Although Miki Yūya was cursing someone out, his attention wasn't on Konohamaru at all.
His attention was like a taut string that had been trembling for the past half hour.
Something was spying on him.
It wasn't a gaze or killing intent, but a deeper, more horrifying scrutiny-as though an invisible hand was working its way upstream along the river of time, trying to seize his ankle and drag him toward some predetermined ending.
The sensation flickered in and out, like spider silk brushing against his skin. He knew it was there, but couldn't catch hold of it.
Miki Yūya's back was ramrod straight, his gaze seemingly casual as it swept over the surrounding treetops, rock faces, and shadows.
His breathing was steady, his tirade never lost its rhythm, but every nerve had already sharpened into a blade.
"...That's why I said you never learn-"
Before he finished, the sharp clash of weapons rang out in the distance.
Konohamaru had already charged off to deal with the bandits who had been knocked down earlier, one by one.
Miki Yūya remained where he was.
Not because he was careless.
That sensation-it was back.
Clearer and stronger than before, like an icy needle piercing the back of his head and driving down his spine.
He could almost "see" the path of that scrutiny:
It didn't shoot toward him from any particular direction. It seeped out of the "future" itself, like a drop of ink falling into clear water, spreading slowly and irreversibly.
Someone was using some kind of technique to peer into his thread of fate.
Miki Yūya's pupils abruptly contracted.
The next second, his presence vanished.
It wasn't concealment or camouflage. He had been completely erased on the level of causality.
Advanced conqueror's Haki erupted from his body like invisible armor,