The meeting dispersed, and the clamor settled.
Inside the vast Hokage Office, only the faint crackle of burning tobacco remained, along with the Third Hokage's heavy, sigh-like breathing.
Outside the window, dusk had deepened. The last ray of sunset was shut out by the heavy curtains, leaving only dim yellow lamplight swaying through the room.
The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, sat behind his broad desk. The pipe between his fingers had long gone out, yet he still unconsciously stroked the grain of the sandalwood. His gaze rested on the open scroll upon the desk—the investigation report on the Root Base. It densely recorded the crimes Danzo had committed over the years: human experimentation, assassinating comrades, hoarding forbidden techniques... Every line was like a blade carving fiercely into the heart of this legendary shinobi.
"This old man's life was snatched back from Danzo's fist by you." The Third Hokage spoke slowly, his voice hoarse as if scraped by sandpaper. He raised his head. The dim light cast deep shadows into his weathered wrinkles, and exhaustion and grief nearly spilled from him. Those eyes, once sharp as an eagle's, were now muddy as a swamp, reflecting Neji's calm face.
"As the Kage of a village, I allowed darkness to grow beneath my very eyes..." The Third Hokage's fingers trembled slightly. His pipe tapped softly against the desk with a dull sound. "It is my failure as Hokage."
Neji stood before the desk, his silvery-white long hair glinting coldly beneath the lamplight. His white robes were as pure as snow, untouched by dust. His expression was calm, as though the heavy emotions in the Third Hokage's words could not stir even a ripple in his heart.
"You overstate it, Lord Hokage." Neji's voice was steady as a mirror, neither deliberately distant nor overly