Roy reached out with trembling hands, his fingers wrapping around the braided silk hilt of his father's katana. The moment he took the weight, his posture shifted. He tried to mimic Ethan's stance, widening his feet and lifting the blade above his head to execute the vertical downward strike.
SHUG!
The swing was incredibly awkward. Roy's shoulders were completely stiff, his elbows flared out at an unnatural angle, and the trajectory of the blade wobbled visibly before cutting into the empty air. He tried to transition into the horizontal slice, but his balance gave out, forcing him to stumble half a step forward just to keep from falling over.
Ethan watched the display, a faint, sighing breath escaping his lips as he shook his head. "Your body is entirely too tense, Roy. You are fighting the weapon instead of directing it."
