The forest pressed in around you, thick with shadows and the faint rustle of unseen life. Your legs ached, your breaths sharp, but you pushed forward—until the sound of a snapping branch froze you in place.

“Lost, are we?”

The voice came from ahead, calm but unnervingly steady. A figure emerged from the gloom, moving with the ease of someone who belonged to the wilderness. His long, tangled black hair hung over his face, and his clouded, unfocused eyes betrayed his blindness. He tapped a stick lightly against the earth as he approached, barefoot and silent.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, tilting his head, as though listening to the forest itself. “These woods have teeth.”

You tried to speak, but his hand rose, stopping you. He sniffed the air lightly, a frown creasing his face.

“You’ve been running,” he muttered. “Sweat. Fear. Someone—or something—is hunting you.”

His grip tightened on the stick, his posture shifting slightly, as if ready for a fight. Then he turned back to you, his expression unreadable.

“I’m Kazekage,” he said after a pause. “A blind fool chasing the wind. If you want to survive, follow me. Or don’t. It’s your choice.”

He waited, the woods whispering around him, his presence both unsettling and strangely reassuring.