As the shimmering sand closed around him, Mikami made no move to evade the swirling dust. He allowed the granules to abrade his skin, closing his eyes lightly, facing the desperate situation without a trace of fear.
Yet, this aura of detached calm appeared utterly different to the outsider observing the scene.
"Worthless!" The newcomer's voice boomed like thunder, his breath steady and powerful. He had a large build and a dark, weathered complexion. His imperious shout seemed to hang in the air, the potent chakra within it causing visible ripples in the atmosphere.
He was a monk.
"Wiped out by a mere child in less than half an hour… a whole supply convoy of a hundred shinobi. How is this possible? You have shamed the very name of Sunagakure!"
The lanky monk's lips curled in disdain as he took in Mikami's sand-pitted ninja attire. His cold eyes swept over the gruesome aftermath—the scattered limbs and lifeless forms—showing not a shred of pity, only scathing contempt.
Clang! Clang! CLANG!
A metallic shriek, like steel grinding against steel, erupted from the sand cocoon encasing Mikami. The monk, whose name was Fuku, glanced up, a flicker of interest in his eyes.
"Oh? Not dead yet. It seems this waste has some skill after all."
A faint, almost predatory smile touched Fuku's lips. He crossed his arms, observing the shifting sands with keen anticipation, his expression one of casual curiosity. It was the look of a cat toying with a cornered mouse, eager to see what struggle it might muster.
BOOM!
The golden shell of sand exploded outwards, bursting apart like a shattered celestial bloom. Mikami stood revealed within, utterly unscathed. His gaze locked onto the mysterious monk studying him with such blatant amusement. Mikami's brow furrowed, his expression darkening, a cold glint flashing deep within his eyes.
He raised his hand, thumb extended, pointing directly at the monk.
"Laser."
A searing beam of light lanced forth, crossing the distance in the blink of an eye.
"A kinjutsu performed without hand seals… intriguing," Fuku mused, his initial surprise giving way to that same condescending calm. He watched the approaching beam with utter nonchalance, a picture of unflappable superiority. He didn't even bother to move.
The arrogance of this old fool, acting all high and mighty, Mikami thought, his eye twitching in irritation. I'll wipe that smug look off your face. He heightened his guard internally. A user of Magnet Release, appearing out of nowhere… only a handful in the world commanded such a Kekkei Genkai. This was no ordinary opponent.
THUD!
Just before the laser could strike, a thick wall of iron-laden sand erupted from the ground before Fuku, swallowing the attack whole.
"Hmph. You there, what is your name? I am Fuku," the monk declared, dispersing the protective sand and lifting his chin haughtily. He stared down at Mikami, his gaze dripping with contempt.
"Stop right there," Mikami cut him off, his voice icy. "Who do you think you are? The fact I've never heard of you proves you're a nobody. A washed-up relic who needs to learn his place. Especially a shriveled, ugly old fossil like you—you have no right to know my name!"
A wave of disgust churned in Mikami's gut, and he unleashed a verbal assault, pouring every ounce of venom he could muster into his words.
"You… you call me ugly?!"
The monk, Fuku, seemed to glaze over the rest of the insult, but those two words struck him like a physical blow. His face contorted, a vein throbbing at his temple as his chakra flared violently. The verbal barb seemed to wound him more deeply than any physical attack could.
"You will DIE for that!"
Fuku's eyes burned crimson with rage. His lanky frame shot forward with unexpected speed, his hand—disproportionately large and powerful—snapping out like a bear's paw to seize Mikami by the throat, a grotesque grin splitting his face.
He seemed to envision crushing Mikami's skull.
"You dare call me ugly?! I'll send you to meet your ancestors, you little brat!"
Fuku roared, exhilaration surging through him as he saw Mikami stand motionless, seemingly within his grasp. His triumphant smile was a terrifying sight.
Yet, Mikami only offered a strange, grim smile in return.
The dark pools of his eyes churned, transforming in an instant into the sinister pattern of a whirling pentagram Mangekyō Sharingan. He fixed his gaze on Fuku's outstretched, powerful arm.
"Amaterasu!"
Twin trails of blood streaked from the corners of Mikami's eyes. From his vision, an inky, all-consuming black flame burst into existence, clinging to Fuku's arm almost the instant it was perceived.
"GYAAAGH! IT BURNS!"
Excruciating pain screamed through every nerve in Fuku's body. He stared in horror at his right arm, now wreathed in impossible black fire that devoured everything it touched.
"The Mangekyō Sharingan?! Damn you, boy! You're from the Uchiha?!"
"Perish."
The word was a whisper of frost. In a flash of golden light, Mikami vanished, reappearing directly behind the shrieking monk. A killing intent so cold it seemed to freeze the air settled around them.
"Have you ever been kicked… at the speed of light?"
The question hung for a fraction of a second.
"Now, I'll let you experience it. Lightspeed Kick."