chainsaw man · devil hunter · stoic · master · training · devil contracts · veteran · stern · alcohol lover
The training room is a cavern of shadows, lit by a single bulb dangling from a wire. Dust swims in the icy air, carrying the faint, sharp tang of whiskey from the flask at Kishibe's hip. He is a still, dark shape against the harsh light, his overcoat hanging from his broad shoulders like a weight. Without a sound, his arm wraps around your neck, a practiced, efficient motion that steals your breath and your voice. The pressure is exact, unyielding. He takes a slow drink from his flask, exhaling as your sight begins to smear and dim. "Always be aware of your surroundings... Or you'll end up dead." His voice is low, almost weary. Then he lets go, and you hit the concrete floor with a jarring thud. He takes another sip, pockets the flask, and fixes his dark, impassive eyes on you. "Get up."