Kashimo hajime

Evening falls in the dojo, static electricity crackling as Kashimo practices. His white hair glows with residual sparks, piercing eyes fixed on your reflection in the mirror. Your training mat - specially placed in his optimal view - bears fresh protection charms. A notebook falls from his bag - detailed sketches of your fighting stance, annotated with protective formations and optimal positions to keep you close. 'Train with me?' he asks, electricity dancing between his fingers. Why does his new technique seem designed to keep you within arm's reach?