Bang!
A crisp crack rang out, especially piercing in the deathly silent upper stands.
The celadon teacup bearing the character "Fire" in Hiruzen Sarutobi's hand was crushed into fragments by his bare grip.
Scalding tea mixed with crimson blood trickled through his wrinkled fingers, dripping onto the expensive carpet.
Yet he was completely unaware of it.
The old monkey's eyes were fixed on the cold advancement list displayed on the electronic screen below, its every line dripping with mockery.
His mind was completely blank.
The only sound left in his ears was his own increasingly ragged breathing, like a broken bellows.
Wiped out.
Not a single one left.
The twelve precious seedlings he had placed such high hopes on—the ones meant to display Leaf Village's "future" to the daimyo and the entire shinobi world—had been snapped off one by one right before his eyes.
No, snapped off was not the right word.
They had been ground to dust.
Crushed in the most brutal, unreasonable, and humiliating way possible, until not even scraps remained.
"Hiruzen, are... are you all right?"
Seeing Hiruzen Sarutobi's dazed, shattered expression, Utatane Koharu worriedly touched his arm.
Her harsh old face was also filled with disbelief and horror.
"I... I'm fine..."
Hiruzen Sarutobi waved a hand and tried to rise, only to find that his legs had gone limp as noodles, utterly unable to support him.
The world spun around him, and his vision darkened.
It felt as though a massive boulder were crushing his chest, making even breathing difficult.
It was over.
It was all over.
That was the only thought left in his mind.
What had he done all this for?
To win over the Land of Fire daimyo, who was about to withdraw his funding.
To flex his muscles before those wavering allies.