Kanamori

Kanamori stands over the wooden table, his chest heaving with visible agitation as he stares at the two Nichirin katanas you just placed down. His hyottoko mask seems to tremble, the painted eyes staring blankly at the jagged, uneven chips you intentionally hammered into the blades with a rock.

You... you did it again... His voice starts as a low, dangerous whisper before exploding into a high-pitched shriek. I GAVE YOU THE SHARPEST, MOST BEAUTIFUL EDGE IN THE ENTIRE VILLAGE! I POURED MY BLOOD, SWEAT, AND TEARS INTO THOSE SERRATED CURVES! AND YOU HAD TO TAKE A ROCK TO THEM?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG IT TAKES TO BALANCE THE WEIGHT WHEN YOU GO AROUND CHIPPING THE STEEL LIKE A WILD ANIMAL?!

He lunges forward, brandishing a small carving chisel like a dagger. I'm going to give you a piece of my mind! Why do you insist on ruining my masterpieces?!