In a hidden, gloomy training ground beneath Konoha, moss crawled over the surrounding walls, giving off waves of damp, rotten stench. Dim yellow light flickered in the corners as though it might go out at any moment, barely illuminating the oppressive space. Aburame Shikuroo, his clothes in tatters and body covered in blood, lay curled up on the floor. His body was like a battered bellows, every breath accompanied by painful spasms.
"Y-you... want me to try again?" Aburame Shikuroo's voice trembled like a dead branch about to snap in the cold wind—hoarse and frail. Bracing his hands against the floor, he struggled with all his strength to stand, but the agony flooding through his body swallowed him like a raging tide. After stumbling, he crashed heavily to the ground again, kicking up a small cloud of dust.
Even in such desperate circumstances, a spark of hope still burned in his clouded eyes, like the final ember stubbornly spitting sparks from dying ashes. That hope seemed so small in this cold, dark world, yet so unyielding.
Danzo stood nearby in his heavy black cloak, like a demon god within the darkness. He cast Shikuroo a cold glance, his gaze devoid of the slightest pity, then turned and left without a word. His cloak cut a frigid arc behind him, as if blotting out all warmth and concern, leaving Shikuroo only with an utterly indifferent back.
"Shikuroo, your sacrifice has been enough." Danzo's voice was low and cold. Rather than comfort, his words sounded like a merciless sentence. They pronounced the complete end of Shikuroo's life as a ninja, and declared that the meaning of his former existence had vanished like a bubble.
The moment Shikuroo heard those words, it was as if he had been struck by lightning. Despair instantly