Uchiha Kei: Game Dev in the Shinobi World

A major event had shaken Konoha—no, not just one, but several!

The first was the unprecedented success of the new game launch. "Ultimate Storm," the first ever true competitive shinobi game, was destined to go down in history. It might even bring about a revolution in the entire shinobi world.

After all, the atmosphere of "fairness," "transparency," and "justice" meant that strength was truly tested by one's jutsu and battle prowess, not inflated by arbitrary stats. Here, even the Kage of each nation had to fight in an even playing field. That meant even civilians could, in theory, defeat the mighty shadows of the shinobi world.

The deeply rooted "gekokujō" gene—where the lower overturn the higher—was reignited by this game. Everyone who played it, even those repeatedly defeated, sang its praises. Once word spread about the mechanics of the game, people everywhere were thrilled and saw it with renewed understanding and anticipation.

It wasn't that everyone wanted to beat up the Kage—but surely everyone had someone they hated but couldn't defeat.

In the current shinobi world, while some rare exceptions allowed weaker shinobi to surpass the strong, the gap between ordinary people and shinobi was a vast, uncrossable chasm.

Class structure was rigid. Civilians had no hope of rising. Even those rare few born with shinobi talent represented only a microscopic fraction of the population—one in hundreds of thousands. Not enough to count.

So for civilians, "Ultimate Storm" shattered the impossible wall between them and shinobi. Even if it was just in-game, that was more than enough.

What had once been impossible even in dreams had become a reachable reality.

Suddenly, even those struggling to get by were moved. They thought: if I just spend a little money to play this game, I could take down those arrogant shinobi—what an experience!

Why not beat up the noble lords too?

Well, shinobi were few and spread out. Most lived in villages, and except for rogues and wanderers, most followed the rules and didn't pick fights with civilians.

But the nobles? They were like real-world celestial dragons—attacking civilians without consequence. Offend them in-game, and you might suffer the consequences in real life.

In short, "Ultimate Storm" caused a phenomenon-level response. From the daimyō to the commoner, everyone became obsessed. The Fire Daimyō even sent invitations to his vassal states and the other great nations' daimyō, summoning them to play.

And here's the kicker—these daimyō were all connected by blood. The great nations had intermarried for centuries, forming a kind of shinobi-world version of the Habsburgs.

So even during the Great Shinobi Wars, while soldiers died in droves, the daimyō of two warring nations could sit together, drink tea, and play mahjong—arguing at most over some minor political squabble before returning to business as usual.

Now, with genjutsu games, perhaps the next war would be fought on the frontlines while the backlines enjoyed gaming.

What would come next, no one knew. Especially now that the shinobi world had someone like the Golden Flash—a natural rebel.

Aside from this new game's explosive impact, another huge event struck Konoha. On the same day as the game's release, chaos broke out ten kilometers outside the village.

The details were unknown. Konoha immediately sealed off the area and allowed no one in.

To handle the matter, the famed sealing team stepped in, led by the hidden queen of the sealing corps—Uzumaki Kushina, the strongest surviving member of the Uzumaki clan. Her barrier engulfed the entire area, cutting it off entirely.

Those who knew were shocked. Who would've thought the Nine-Tails' jinchūriki could do something like this?

Some with sharp sensory perception said she had used the Nine-Tails' chakra—but that claim was quickly dismissed.

Everyone knew the Nine-Tails hated its jinchūriki. The most powerful of all tailed beasts, the fox had never submitted—not even to the legendary Mito Uzumaki. It was said not even she had tamed it.

And Kushina? Stories about her losing control of the Nine-Tails were common. Though the situations were always handled, they proved one thing: there was no real harmony between her and the beast.

So the idea that the Nine-Tails helped her? Laughable. No one believed it.

Thanks to that powerful sealing barrier, the incident at Root was completely concealed. Konoha made no public statement—they clearly wanted to keep things quiet.

Naturally, outside forces scrambled to investigate. Meanwhile, Konoha privately worked to contain the situation—but it was a nightmare.

Root had been destroyed. That wasn't something Konoha could just ignore.

The higher-ups were still locked in debate. Was it worth pursuing?

After all, in their eyes, this was Shimura Danzō's mess. He made the mistake, and now he'd paid for it.

A poor experimental subject had returned for revenge—using the unstoppable power of Wood Style to obliterate Root and cripple Danzō.

On paper, Konoha should investigate fully.

But Wood Style was far too unique. If word got out that someone other than Hashirama Senju had awakened it, it would be a massive blow to Konoha's prestige.

Besides, the mysterious avenger hadn't attacked Konoha itself. He had only destroyed Root and spared Danzō's life. Clearly, he didn't want to start a war with the village. His message was simple: punish the guilty, not the innocent.

In that light, did Konoha really have grounds to pursue him?

Thus, the elders argued for days with no end in sight.