Konoha.
In the office on the top floor of the Hokage Building, the air seemed frozen solid by the blue smoke curling from a Pipe, sluggish even when it stirred. The Konoha F4—Sarutobi Hiruzen, Shimura Danzō, Mitokado Homura, and Utatane Koharu—each occupied a corner.
No one spoke.
The silence was so deep that the faint rustle of ash falling from the pipe's rim was audible, striking the floor like tiny needles.
"Hiss—hoo—"
Sarutobi Hiruzen took a fierce drag on his Pipe. The smoke ring he exhaled had barely unfurled into a full circle before a breeze slipping through the window tore it apart.
He suddenly choked several times. "Cough, cough, cough..." Danzo and the other two said nothing. At a time like this, whoever spoke first would shoulder the pressure.
A shadow flashed through Sarutobi Hiruzen's eyes. The Pipe between his fingers was already glowing red with heat. His third load of tobacco had burned down to the bottom, sparks licking at the wooden mouthpiece, yet he seemed completely oblivious.
A layer of ash lay across the front of his red-and-white Hokage robe like a scattering of crushed snow, making the way he rubbed the pipe stem seem all the more brooding. He could not even spare a thought for his appearance—a clear sign of his frustration.
(Qingwu secretly gloated: Smoke, smoke, smoke. That's all you ever do. Smoke yourself to death, you old bastard. Feeling anxious now, aren't you?)
(Void: So satisfying...)
"Inhale—exhale—" As he took another drag, those eyes, usually filled with gentleness and fatigue, looked as deep as two ancient wells. They reflected the clouds drifting past the window while concealing raging waves beneath.
Having regained his youth, Sarutobi Hiruzen was far more composed. *If none of you will speak, we can all sit here and wait.