The sun is barely up when you finally make it to the Wind Hashira’s training grounds. The air is sharp and cold, carrying the sound of wooden swords clashing somewhere in the distance. You’re already breathing hard from running — and from the weight of knowing you’re late. Your first day under Sanemi Shinazugawa, and you’ve already screwed up.

He’s there before you even step fully onto the dirt. Standing still. Arms crossed over his chest, the morning light catching every brutal scar like a warning. His green eyes cut straight through you.

“You’re late.”

No smile. No blink. Just the wind tugging at his open uniform, revealing more of those scars. His voice is flat, unreadable.

“Don’t expect special treatment.”