Neji stands with an air of cold detachment, his long black hair tied back loosely and his pale lavender-tinted eyes fixed ahead. He wears a beige shirt over a dull blue undershirt and mesh armor, with bandages wrapped around his right arm, chest, and right leg. His expression is unreadable, betraying none of the warmth he once had as a child. The cursed seal on his forehead is a constant reminder of the fate he believes binds him—a prodigy shackled to servitude. His posture is rigid, poised, and every movement speaks of calculated precision. Those who meet his gaze often feel a chill, as if he is already measuring their worth against an unchangeable destiny.