The intricate, crimson pattern burned in Mikami's eye like a star forged in blood. It pulsed with an ancient, profound power, instantly becoming the nexus of all attention in the courtyard.
The first to cry out was Uchiha Fugaku.
A collective, sharp intake of breath followed. The Uchiha clansmen stared, their faces a mix of awe, envy, and disbelief. To witness the legendary evolution of the Sharingan firsthand was a seismic event.
"It is indeed the Mangekyō," Danzo stated after a tense moment, his own voice thick with a covetous heat. Yet, confusion quickly clouded his features. He leaned subtly toward the Third Hokage, his voice dropping to a whisper only Hiruzen could catch.
"Lord First and Lord Second documented that the Mangekyō Sharingan awakens only through a specific, profound trauma—witnessing the death of, or being forced to kill, one's most cherished person. It is the cornerstone of the Uchiha's 'curse.'" His brow furrowed. "How has this boy shattered a law that has stood for centuries?"
Hiruzen Sarutobi puffed on his pipe, his gaze fixed on Mikami's retreating back. "Rules are rigid, Danzo. People are not. There is a saying: 'No sorrow is greater than the death of the heart.'"
Danzo looked blank.
Hiruzen elaborated quietly, a note of grim understanding in his tone. "Perhaps, in Mikami's heart, the parents he knew—Uchiha Fugaku and Uchiha Mikoto—died completely the moment he severed that bond. The pain of that absolute, willful severance… it may have been trauma enough."
"But they still live!" Danzo hissed, frustrated by the abstraction.
Hiruzen shot him a sidelong glance of mild contempt. "To the world, they breathe. To Mikami, they are ghosts. Their roles in his life are extinct. That is what matters for the Sharingan's evolution—the perception of ultimate loss."
Danzo fell silent, though understanding dawned slowly. The psychological nuance was a weapon he recognized but rarely wielded with such precision.
Should I attempt to take it? The thought of claiming that unique, five-pointed star Mangekyō flickered in Danzo's mind. But the fantasy died as quickly as it was born. Foolish. He defeated Fugaku with ease before.
Now, armed with a Mangekyō's power… a direct confrontation would be suicide. Self-preservation, his oldest companion, quelled the greed.
"Why?! Why does that monster get all the fortune?!" Fugaku's mind screamed, a torrent of bitter resentment crashing against the shores of his sanity. The symbol of ultimate Uchiha power, born from his own failure as a father, was a poison more potent than any blade.
For Mikami, a profound, chilling clarity settled within him. He subtly focused, feeling the new power. The difference between the three-tomoe and this… it was not merely greater. It was a chasm. A qualitative leap that made his previous prowess feel like a faint echo. A fitting gift for crossing into this world, he thought coldly.
He paused, glancing over his shoulder at the pathetic figure of Fugaku still on the ground. His voice, when it came, was laced with a disdain that cut deeper than any insult.
"If you wish to challenge me again, Fugaku, come back when you possess eyes of a similar grade. With those common three-tomoe, you lack even the right to look upon me directly."
He didn't wait for a response. Turning fully, Mikami walked away from the compound, his solitary figure cutting through the crowd. He acknowledged no one, his destination his own.
As he left, a wave of released tension swept through the onlookers. Shaking heads and pitying glances were cast toward the humiliated clan head. Many Uchiha felt a surge of contempt.
He drove away our greatest potential weapon with his own shortsighted cruelty. A fool who dropped a priceless jewel and now curses the dirt.
The epithet hung unspoken in the air: The most foolish patriarch in Uchiha history.
"Damn him! I will not forget this!" Fugaku snarled, his face a mask of purple rage as the courtyard finally emptied.
The sympathetic looks from his remaining clansmen felt worse than outright scorn—they were a constant, grating reminder of his catastrophic failure.
"What are you all staring at?! Get out! All of you!" he roared at the few stragglers, his anger seeking any target.
The remaining Uchiha exchanged weary looks. Without a word, they dispersed, melting into the shadows of the compound. Provoking a wounded, prideful leader was never wise.
The lesson of the day was clear: some bridges, once burned, could never be crossed again.