Renzo struck the air with a sharp twist of his hip, the sound of his punch cutting through the quiet forest. His bare feet dug into the damp soil, his breathing steady as he followed through with another strike, then a kick, each movement precise. Sweat clung to his shirt, and his fists ached from repetition, but he pushed on, fueled by Jack's teachings.
Jack stood nearby, leaning against an old tree, arms crossed. His gray hair was tied loosely at the back, his beard unkempt but his eyes sharp as ever. He watched without comment, letting Renzo fall into rhythm.
The forest was alive with birdsong and the rustle of leaves, but beneath it Renzo felt something else. A presence. He did not even need to glance toward the trees to know Gon was there again, watching him just as he had been for the past three days.
Jack finally spoke. "Your form improves. Still, your strikes lack intent. You must strike as if the enemy stands before you, not as if you are sparring with the wind."
Renzo exhaled, lowering his fists. "Yes, Master Jack."
"Again."
Renzo obeyed, adjusting his stance, fists up. He thrust forward with more weight, imagining an opponent's guard breaking beneath his knuckles. His heel drove into the soil with his next kick, dirt spraying outward.
From the corner of his vision, movement flickered. A head peeking from behind a trunk. Brown eyes wide, unblinking, filled with energy. Gon Freecss.
Renzo's lips curved slightly. He had known for days, but it seemed Gon thought he was still hidden.
Jack's voice broke the rhythm. "Stop."
Renzo halted mid-breath, looking toward his teacher. Jack's gaze flicked briefly toward the treeline where Gon crouched, then back to Renzo.
"Let him come," Jack said softly.
Renzo nodded.
Sure enough, Gon finally stepped out from behind the tree. He brushed dirt off his shorts and walked forward with that same fearless, childlike stride that seemed to radiate energy. He stopped a few steps away, eyes fixed on Renzo, then shifted to Jack.
"Hi," Gon said cheerfully, bowing slightly in respect. "I'm Gon."
Jack raised a brow, his expression unreadable. "I know who you are. You are the boy Mito raises."
Gon nodded eagerly. "Yes. That's me." Then his attention snapped back to Renzo. "You're amazing. I have been watching you train for days."
Renzo wiped sweat from his forehead and gave a small shrug. "You were not exactly hidden."
Gon blinked. "Really? I thought I was quiet."
"You were quiet," Renzo admitted, chuckling softly. "But you stare too much. It is easy to feel."
Gon grinned, scratching the back of his head. "Guess I need to practice hiding better."
Jack stepped forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Curiosity is one thing. But tell me, boy, why are you here?"
Gon did not flinch under the stern tone. Instead, he looked directly at Jack. "Because I want to know what he is doing. He trains so hard, like he is fighting something only he can see. I have never seen anyone move like that."
Renzo crossed his arms, studying the boy. "You are not interested in martial arts, are you?"
Gon shook his head. "Not really. I like fishing and exploring. But watching you made me curious."
Jack's lips curled faintly. "Curiosity can be dangerous. Especially when it wanders too close to things it does not understand."
Gon tilted his head. "Like what?"
"Like what Renzo learns here," Jack replied. His tone was firm, but not unkind. "This training is not for outsiders. It is not a game."
Renzo glanced at Jack, then at Gon. Something about the boy's open smile, his honest curiosity, made it hard to push him away. "But it is not wrong to watch, is it?"
Jack let the silence stretch before sighing. "Watching is not forbidden. But remember, boy, knowledge is a weight. Do not take it if you cannot carry it."
Gon's grin widened. "I can carry a lot."
Renzo laughed despite himself. "I believe that."
Jack shook his head but did not argue further. "Very well. Renzo, resume."
Renzo dropped back into stance, fists raised. He moved again, strikes sharp and clean, each breath timed with his movements. He could feel Gon's eyes locked on him, studying every step.
As he trained, Gon eventually sat cross-legged on the grass, his chin resting on his hands. He watched in complete silence, his usual energy subdued by fascination.
When Renzo finally stopped, drenched in sweat, Gon clapped loudly. "That was incredible! You looked like you were cutting the air."
Renzo exhaled heavily. "It is not as glamorous as it looks. It is just repetition. Over and over again until the body remembers."
"Still," Gon said brightly. "It feels alive."
Jack stepped forward. "That is because Renzo does not simply swing his arms. He puts intent into every movement. It is what separates practice from purpose."
Renzo looked at Gon, curious himself now. "Why are you so interested? You said you like fishing more."
Gon smiled, his eyes sparkling. "Because you look like you are having fun. Even when you are sweating and tired, your eyes look different. Like you are chasing something."
Renzo froze at the words. Fun? His training rarely felt like fun. It was grueling, exhausting, demanding. Yet somehow, Gon's innocent perspective made it sound lighter than he had ever allowed it to be.
Jack studied the two silently, then spoke. "Enough for today. Renzo, go wash. Gon, if you insist on watching, then you will sit quietly. No interruptions."
"Yes, sir," Gon replied without hesitation.
Renzo chuckled again. "Careful, Gon. If you stay too long, Jack might make you train too."
Gon's grin only widened. "That does not sound so bad."
Jack sighed but said nothing.
That evening, as Renzo walked home with sore muscles, Gon followed beside him like a shadow. The boy asked endless questions.
"How long have you been training? Do you train every day? Can you break rocks with your fists yet? Do you fight wild animals?"
Renzo shook his head, trying not to laugh. "One at a time, Gon. And no, I do not fight animals. Not unless I have to."
Gon tilted his head. "But you could, right?"
Renzo smirked. "Maybe. But why would I?"
"Because it sounds cool."
Renzo glanced at him. "You are strange."
"So are you," Gon shot back without missing a beat.
They both laughed, the forest echoing with the sound.
When they reached the edge of the village, Gon stopped. "I'll see you tomorrow, right?"
Renzo raised a brow. "Tomorrow?"
"Of course," Gon said as if it were obvious. "I want to watch again."
Renzo hesitated, then nodded. "If Jack allows it."
Gon beamed. "He will."
As Gon ran off toward Mito's house, Renzo stood for a moment, watching him disappear into the distance. His chest felt oddly light.
When he finally returned home, his adoptive father was sitting on the porch, smoking his pipe. The man was broad-shouldered, weathered by years of work by the sea, his dark hair streaked with gray. He looked at Renzo with calm eyes.
"You look like you enjoyed yourself," his father said.
Renzo shrugged. "Just training."
"Not just training," his father said knowingly. "There was someone with you."
Renzo blinked. "How did you—"
"I know the sound of your footsteps when you come home," his father interrupted. "Today they were lighter. Happier."
Renzo looked down at his hands, still sore from striking the air. He thought of Gon's grin, his endless questions, his fascination.
"Yeah," Renzo admitted softly. "I guess there was."
His father smiled faintly and took another puff of his pipe. "Good. No man should walk his path alone."
Renzo said nothing, but deep down he knew his father was right.
For the first time since waking on Whale Island, Renzo realized he had found something he did not expect. Not just a teacher, not just training, but a friend.