Dito watches the man dart off, sheathing the spear in the scabbard at his side in one fluid motion. "Shigaraki. Tomura." He speaks the names softly; slowly, as if savoring their taste on his tongue. With a glance over a Bakari, meeting her dubious expression with one of amusement-- get a load of this guy, huh?-- Dito kicks himself into a run to catch up with the taller, lankier man.

The mist is thick, clinging to the ground and obscuring many of the road hazards along the way-- rocks and upturned roots and broken gravestones. But Dito has always been almost preternaturally surefooted, and he evades each patch of uneven ground as if he had predicted it beforehand. In no time at all he's neck and neck with Shigaraki, Bakari loping in an easy gallop alongside him.

"So... what sort of quarry are we after? A lycanthrope? A banshee? Something with a lot of eyes and a segmented torso?" Dito's voice is even; nonchalant. He doesn't even sound out of breath from the pace Shigaraki has set.