The supply column of Sunagakure moved with an arrogance born of perceived safety. Their logic was sound, if cynical: Konoha's elite were pinned down on multiple war fronts. Short of the Third Kazekage himself abandoning the heart of the conflict to raid them, no shinobi of Kage-level threat should be here to interfere.
The reality raining from the heavens, however, was a storm of light, not iron sand. It was not the Kazekage.
BOOM! KABOOM!
For three relentless minutes, the thunderous concussions did not cease. Golden beams of condensed annihilation fell with mechanical precision, ruthlessly harvesting the lives of Suna shinobi caught in disarray. Those obliterated instantly were the fortunate ones. The wounded, their bodies seared and broken, died with eyes wide in agony and confusion, their final moments a testament to the sheer, horrific devastation.
"ENEMY ATTACK! TO ARMS, YOU FOOLS! GENJUTSU WON'T SAVE YOU NOW!"
A surviving Chunin, voice ragged and bloody, screamed into the smoky chaos. The supply depot was an inferno. Pack animals lay still, tents and crates—food, weapons, scrolls—all consumed by raging fire. Their mission was ash.
A voice, calm and chillingly youthful, cut through the din. "Had you played dead, you might have lived a little longer. Standing up was an invitation."
Another pillar of light descended. The earth convulsed. Rock shattered. The screams were brief.
From within the swirling dust, a figure stepped forward. His dark eyes held a cold, luminous sheen as his form shifted, losing solidity to become a being of flowing, radiant light.
Even trying for stealth, his intrinsic glow betrayed him—a star moving at ground level. A few surviving Suna-nin saw the streak and launched attacks, but their projectiles and jutsu were hopelessly outpaced.
Too slow.
A boy materialized before a Suna Jonin. The chill radiating from him was palpable, a psychic frost that bit deeper than any blade. The Jonin instinctively raised his arms in a cross-block.
Mikami's lips curled into a faint, pitiless smile. He kicked.
CRUNCH!
The sound was sickening. The Jonin was catapulted backwards like a cannon shot, cratering the rocky cliff face a hundred meters distant.
His body was not just broken; it was nearly torn asunder, bones protruding from pulverized flesh.
"He's a taijutsu specialist! Do NOT close! Engage with ninjutsu at range!" another Jonin bellowed, horror seizing his voice. This "child" wielded brutality with casual ferocity.
Wind Release: Wind Cutter Jutsu!
A blade of condensed air, sharp enough to shear steel, shrieked toward Mikami, striking his luminous torso. Logic dictated a spray of blood.
Instead, a bizarre spectacle unfolded. Where the wind-blade hit, the light of Mikami's body intensified into a brilliant gold. The jutsu passed through him as if through a mirage, dissipating harmlessly against the scorched earth beyond.
"Wha—? Did I just see that? He ignored it!"
"He can't ignore ninjutsu! No one can! It must be a specific affinity. Try another element!"
Their stunned theorizing was cut short by Mikami's ice-cold tone. "Your analysis is a waste of breath. Annoyances should be swiftly removed."
Amaterasu's Gleaming Sword!
A blade of solidified, high-density light sprang from his grasp. The aura around him deepened, turning him from a strange attacker into an avatar of celestial judgment. His gaze swept over the five remaining shinobi. Then, he was light itself—a streaking photon.
"He's coming! Ready—ACK!"
The warning Jonin never finished. Mikami flashed into his space, the Gleaming Sword lifting and falling in a single, graceful arc.
SHING!
The blade passed through the man's guard and body with equal indifference, cleaving him in two as easily as parting silk. The Gleaming Sword's edge, a compressed line of solar fury, mocked the concept of armor.
Water Release: Wild Water Wave!
A torrential surge of water, summoned from the emergency reserves of a surviving ninja, roared toward Mikami, seeking to crush and drown.
A flicker of satisfaction crossed Mikami's mind. Thanks to Reiko's Devil Fruit, water is just another obstacle, not a weakness.
He took a deliberate breath. The weakness of Devil Fruit users to water was a notorious secret, a liability in a world where at least a third of shinobi could wield basic water techniques.
But this… is merely a minor nuisance.
His form blazed brighter, ready to stream through the oncoming wave.
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