"Itachi!" Mirai smiled.
"Looks like you've been doing well!"
"Of course. I eat well and drink well every day—life's been great!" Mirai scratched his head foolishly.
"Look at you, though. You've had it rough, camping out in the wild every day, with dried fish by your side. Must be exhausting!"
"Mm." Itachi nodded.
In truth, the two of them could not exactly be called close, but neither were they strangers.
If they were strangers, Itachi would not have spared Mirai during the Night of Blood Slaughter.
But if they were close, neither of them had much to say.
At present, they could only exchange a few simple pleasantries as members of the same clan.
This meeting was merely because Itachi wanted to see how Mirai had been doing. Nothing more.
Listening to their conversation, three black lines appeared over Kisame's head.
"You're Mirai?"
To keep Itachi from continuing the conversation, Kisame stepped forward on his own and interrupted them.
"Hmph! That's right, it's yours truly!" Mirai kept looking at Itachi, not even giving Kisame a proper glance.
When it came to showing off, Mirai had never feared anyone.
When it came to talking trash, hadn't he utterly destroyed Konoha's group of experts with his words?
So in that regard, he feared no one.
"Hmph! A brat who hasn't even grown all his hair yet dares to act so arrogantly? You're courting death!"
Kisame sneered repeatedly, anger already rising in his heart.
Mirai was completely unfazed and immediately fired back, "You ugly freak, shark-face, dried fish—what the hell are you barking about? Believe it or not, I'll turn you into real dried fish!"
"You...! Bastard! You little punk, you're asking to die!"
Kisame's chest heaved with rage, yet he could not find anything to retort with.
Furious, Kisame pulled out Samehada,