Minato Namikaze was not a cowardly shinobi. In fact, he possessed a level of courage and integrity few shinobi could match. As one of Konoha's elite Jōnin, he had nearly reached the Kage level at just nineteen years old. According to the historical trajectory, he would soon surpass the legendary Sannin and beco the Hidden Leaf's brightest young star—a super weapon capable of changing the tide of the Third Great Ninja War.
His legendary feats spoke for themselves: Minato Namikaze was a prodigy blessed with both talent and bravery.
But...
What he was experiencing now genuinely shocked him. The scene before him was unlike anything he'd ever encountered—it was pure nightmare fuel.
And to make things worse, after entering this ga world, Minato could feel that his body was incredibly "weak." It was as if 90% of his strength had vanished, leaving him pathetically fragile.
Such a dramatic drop in power naturally bred unease. Combined with the deliberately terrifying setting Uchiha Kei had crafted, it wasn't surprising Minato had a rare mont of vulnerability.
Fortunately, Minato was still Minato. Even in this state, he quickly regained composure and asked calmly,
"Kei, are you there?"
Uchiha Kei's voice responded instantly. "I hear you, Minato. How do you feel? I an, how real does this ga world feel to you?"
Minato thought for a mont, clenched his fists, felt around his body, then answered, "It's quite realistic. I can sense it's not entirely real, but it's far more convincing than any genjutsu I've experienced—it doesn't feel like a dream."
Still within the ga world, Uchiha Kei observed everything from a godlike vantage point and nodded thoughtfully. "I see. So it's not real enough yet. I'll need to optimize it further."
Minato replied, "Well, if it's just a ga, maybe it doesn't need to be *that* realistic..."
Kei nodded. "True. Even in virtual reality gas, you'd intentionally dial down realism to prevent people from confusing reality with fiction."
"But I have great faith in the ntal and physical resilience of shinobi. That's why I believe pursuing peak realism is still the best path."
Minato: "...I'm not sure what this 'virtual reality' stuff is, but not everyone in the shinobi world is superhuman."
Kei: "No problem. I'll just make two versions—one hyper-realistic version exclusive to shinobi, and one watered-down version for civilians."
Minato: "..."
For so reason, Minato could sense a twisted desire to troll society behind Kei's words.
Well... maybe he was just imagining it. Kei was a good guy, even if he had a dark sense of humor now and then.
Still mulling it over, Minato asked, "Hey, Kei—why do I feel so weak? Is it sothing about this genjutsu world?"
Kei didn't answer directly. "Use the window to your right as a mirror. Take a look at yourself."
Minato turned and saw a glass window on a nearby building. His reflection appeared in it.
But the person in the reflection wasn't the real Minato Namikaze. It was a scruffy, haggard man wearing a Konoha headband and standard shinobi vest—but he looked like he'd just crawled out of a warzone, dirty, unshaven, and radiating despair.
Minato gasped. "Am I... soone else now?"
Kei: "Yup. Didn't I say? This is a ga. Like those gas we played as kids—pretending to be heroes or villains. You're playing a fictional character I created. He's not a real Konoha shinobi—just a made-up role."
"As the na of the ga suggests, your mission is to play this character and find your way ho in this world."
Minato nodded in realization. "Ah, I get it."
He imdiately grew eager. In the entertainnt-starved world of shinobi, a ga like this was a god-tier novelty. Even on modern Earth, Kei's illusionary ga would qualify as next-level sci-fi tech.
Despite being a genius who had already completed nurous missions and was known as a mature shinobi, Minato was still only eighteen. On Earth, he'd be fresh out of high school—a youth full of life.
He hadn't played much before simply because it wasn't appropriate, and Konoha didn't offer much in the way of entertainnt. He had to act like the "mature elite Jōnin."
But now, with a fun ga laid out before him—one that helped a friend and required no guilt or hesitation—even Minato couldn't hide his anticipation.
Even if the visuals and setting were terrifying and a bit too intense, they were exciting too, right?
And so, Minato began to move.
The cold night breeze whispered past his ears. Ever cautious, Minato held a kunai at the ready, prepared to fight at any mont.
But as he moved forward, the path ahead was nothing but fog and decrepit houses. Lanterns glowed with eerie green light.
Visibility was shrinking fast. Soon, he could barely see two ters ahead. It felt like a Kirigakure shinobi had used the Hidden Mist Technique—except this version had a sickly green hue.
The fog grew thicker. The lights dimd to an uncanny green glow.
It was eerie. Oppressive.
This was the kind of environnt that could easily trigger claustrophobia or thalassophobia.
Minato didn't have those issues, but the unchanging path, paired with the haunting BGM softly looping in the background, was starting to wear on his nerves.
He asked aloud, "Kei, is this ga just walking endlessly forward? Aren't there supposed to be enemies or changes or sothing?"
There was no reply.
Just wind. A low hum.
Then—*ding*. A crisp, unnatural bell rang out. The ambient BGM vanished, replaced by absolute silence.
The sudden change made Minato's heart clench.
Before he could react, he sensed sothing nearby. He turned his head—
—and nearly suffered cardiac arrest.
Barely thirty centiters from his face was a woman. Long black hair covered most of her features. She wore a tattered white robe. Her face was pale with bluish veins, and a single eye peered out, level with Minato's own.
The white of her eye was laced with black veins. Her pupil was an abyssal black, radiating pure hatred and malice.
It was not a human eye.
Even in broad daylight, eting such a creature would be unsettling. But here—in this cursed setting, with her face *right there*—
Minato reacted instinctively.
He raised his kunai to strike. At the sa ti, he prepared to use Flying Thunder God Technique to escape.
Years of combat training had drilled this reflex into him.
But as he moved, his body failed to keep up. He stumbled, nearly falling backward. He barely managed to steady himself after retreating a few steps.
Only then did he rember—this wasn't his real body. He was using the avatar of an ordinary shinobi.
His body and mind were out of sync. He'd underestimated the disconnect.
Still—Minato was Minato. Once he regained balance, he sharply looked back at the woman.
But she was gone.
"Where is she? Wait... was that even a person?"
He was unsure. That twisted aura, that malicious eye—it didn't feel like sothing from this world.
Even in a world as bizarre as the shinobi one, he'd never seen anything like her.
At least, not in his mory.
"Just what the hell was—"
His words stopped. Eyes wide, body frozen.
A cold wind howled behind him.
The chill seeped into his skin. It felt like winter's grip.
A hand—icy, rigid—grabbed his shoulder. The sensation pierced through his clothes like they weren't even there.
Then, near his ear, a cold, otherworldly voice whispered:
"You... can't go back..."
Minato was paralyzed, his mind reeling. That was the sa voice he'd heard earlier—when the ga first loaded and the title was announced.
Next ca the hands around his neck.
Cold. Stiff. Corpse-like.
The fingers tightened slowly.
Breathing beca difficult. Pain welled up in his chest, forcing his mind into survival mode.
And worst of all—he couldn't resist.
He genuinely thought he was going to die.
Then—
Everything vanished.
The cold, the pressure, the woman—they all disappeared.
His mobility returned.
But Minato's body gave out. He collapsed forward, managing only to land on one knee. One hand braced against the ground, the other pressed to his knee.
Dust mixed with cold sweat beneath him.
The experience, a fusion of 21st-century horror ga design and even more futuristic spiritual VR chanics, had pushed this "genius of Konoha" to his absolute limit.
Honestly? For a first-tir, this was way too much.
He didn't want to admit it, but a small, cowardly voice in his head whispered:
"Maybe we... shouldn't play this after all?"
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