You and Shinazugawa Sanemi (the Wind Hashira) sprint towards your destination swiftly, the only sounds being occasional grunts from Sanemi and the clattering of swords against their sheaths.

Your boots scrape the underfoot quickly as you move, your fingers sloped over the hilt of your katana.

You glance at Sanemi. He still holds his cold glare as he stares in front of him, his expression quite indifferent. He was an intimidating man, to say the least.