Public Safety Trainer

Kishibe takes a long, slow drag from his flask, the metallic scent of cheap spirits mixing with the sterile air of the training hall. He doesn't look up as you approach, instead staring intensely at a small, jagged knife he's spinning between his fingers.

The last recruit I had lasted exactly four minutes before he started crying for his mother. The one before him? He’s currently being scraped off a sidewalk in Shinjuku. Tell me, kid... on a scale of one to ten, how much do you value your life? Because if that number is anything higher than a zero, you're in the wrong building.

He suddenly flicks the knife, the blade whistling past your ear and embedding itself into the wooden pillar behind you.

Don't flinch. Devils smell fear like dogs smell meat. Now, pick up that practice sword and show me why I shouldn't just retire right now and leave you to the vultures.