"People of the Hidden Leaf, and honored guests from beyond the village—welcome to Konoha, and to the unveiling of a brand-new product, born of the Uchiha clan's ancestral wisdom and contemporary creative genius."
"I'm sure you're all wondering what exactly this so-called new product is. Well then, let me assure you: today is destined to be the day history changes."
"I believe that from this day forward, when people speak of history, they will speak of the time before this product launch—and the time after. And everyone here today will be remembered as part of that pivotal moment."
"Because all of you are now participants in a grand event that will reshape the history of the Shinobi World!"
Uchiha Kei's voice rang out dramatically through the sound system the Uchiha clan had set up in advance, accompanied by a live professional orchestra. The atmosphere surged instantly.
The audience was stunned. Kei's words were undoubtedly exaggerated, but somehow they stirred something in their chests. Excitement swept through the crowd.
Even the seasoned veterans among the shinobi found themselves thinking: Wait... we're going to be part of history? Just by attending this product launch? Tch—how could anyone stay calm after that?!
The idea of being recorded in history was irresistible—even in this world. What shinobi wouldn't want to leave a grand legacy in their clan's records?
The energy in the venue skyrocketed.
Why didn't anyone question Uchiha Kei's claims?
Simple. People underestimated the weight of the Uchiha name.
As one of the founding clans of the Hidden Leaf Village, the Uchiha were renowned throughout the Shinobi World. Though often seen as prideful to a fault, their reputation was ironclad.
Kei standing center stage meant he was representing the entire Uchiha clan—staking its centuries of honor on this moment.
Could anyone really doubt what he said?
Maybe a few skeptics remained, but to the vast majority, Kei's words were absolute. To them, they really *were* becoming part of history.
Even the Uchiha themselves were getting swept up in the moment—some of them so excited they activated their Sharingan on the spot.
These clan members, though not overly familiar with Kei, trusted the decision of the elders who appointed him. In their eyes, that made Kei a legitimate representative of Uchiha authority.
For some of them, especially those who never thought they'd amount to anything more than a name in the family records, the thought of making history was an overwhelming gift.
Who could resist such a thing?
Soon the entire venue was roaring with excitement. Many regretted not bringing their family and friends—missing out on immortalizing them all together.
When news of the event spread later, those who hadn't come would deeply regret it—among them, Konoha's own F4.
Koharu Utatane and Homura Mitokado were especially disappointed. As for Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, he was already destined for the history books, so his regret was minor.
The only one who looked like he might punch a hole in the wall was Danzo Shimura. A man of the shadows, doomed to obscurity, yet consumed by his thirst for power and prestige—his desire for the Hokage title being the clearest symptom.
Of course, none of that mattered to Uchiha Kei. He was simply fulfilling his duty as the "next-gen host."
And he did so remarkably well. Even with thousands watching, he never once stuttered. His exaggerated tone and passionate words maintained the energy in the room perfectly.
He spoke for quite some time, keeping the excitement level high.
Sure, if judged professionally, Kei wasn't exactly a great emcee. In fact, he came off pretty amateurish. But his audience wasn't used to this level of showmanship—this was a crowd of shinobi, not media-savvy civilians from Earth.
For these backwater shinobi, Kei's performance was more than enough—just copying what he'd seen from classic product launches in his previous life did the trick.
If his genjutsu game hadn't been the first title unveiled, he'd probably have shouted that classic line: "Leading by a mile!"
Finally, after all the build-up, Kei turned and extended his right arm in invitation.
"Now, let's welcome the young hero of the new Konoha era, the eternal spokesperson of my genjutsu game, my lifelong friend—the one and only Yellow Flash of the Leaf—Minato Namikaze!"
"Please, give him a warm round of applause!!!"
Kei started clapping first. The planted Uchiha in the crowd followed immediately.
Everyone else joined in, creating a wave of thunderous applause. Some even cheered loudly.
And in that applause, Minato Namikaze stepped onto the stage with a warm, sunny smile, waving to the crowd.
But behind that handsome, radiant smile... was a bead of cold sweat. And his grin looked a little stiff.
Some in the crowd began to wonder.
In the VIP section backstage, where family members of the organizers sat, Kushina Uzumaki clapped while leaning toward Kikyo Uzumaki.
"Kikyo, since when did Minato have the nickname 'Yellow Flash'? And he's 'famous,' too? Did I miss something while I was busy working on the game with Kei?"
Kikyo scratched her head. "Uh, would you believe me if I said this is the first time I've heard that name too?"
Kushina's face twitched. "So... Kei made it up, huh?"
Kikyo gave a wry smile. "Probably... yeah."
Kushina fell silent, then glanced at her boyfriend with sympathy in her eyes. She knew he'd just been thrown under the bus by his best buddy—and was probably embarrassed enough to claw out a whole apartment with his toes.
And she was right. At that moment, Minato desperately wanted to grab Kei by the collar and ask why the hell he'd made up some random nickname like "Yellow Flash" and even called him "famous."
Come on—just a minute ago, Minato had never even heard of that name!
In actual history, he didn't earn the title until several years later during the Third Great Ninja War.
Still, no matter how embarrassed, Minato couldn't blow his friend's act. So he stayed on stage, smiling like nothing was wrong, and waved to the crowd as scripted.
Kei didn't let his buddy suffer long. Right on cue, a pre-arranged Uchiha walked up with several sealing scrolls, placed them on the stage, and stepped back.
It was time—the hands-on game demo had arrived.
Kei explained: initially, the genjutsu game required a Sharingan and a completely willing participant to function.
But after a lot of optimization, the technique could now be sealed into scrolls. As long as the target didn't actively resist, opening the scroll would bring them into the genjutsu world.
This was the product that would be sold after the event: the genjutsu game!
To be honest, civilians didn't think much of it. But the shinobi...
They were skeptical.
Willingly exposing oneself to a Sharingan genjutsu or even a scroll-based version? That was against every survival instinct a ninja had.
In any other situation, questions and accusations would've flown. Someone might've even used the chance to target the Uchiha.
But not today.
Not at an unprecedented product launch with thousands watching. Even if people had doubts, no one dared speak them aloud.
In that tense silence, Uchiha Kei and Minato exchanged a glance. Minato nodded, then calmly sat down cross-legged on the stage.
He opened the scroll.
Instantly, a pair of invisible Sharingan appeared before him. Without resistance, he accepted the technique, and his consciousness entered the game world.
This time, there were no weird hallucinations like "Rinkostadt" or "O-God System Activated."
At the same time, Kei activated three more scrolls around the stage, forming a triangular formation.
All four scrolls resonated. A new technique triggered.
Under the expectant gaze of the crowd—and the nervous eyes of Kushina, who had helped develop the new jutsu—a clear 3D projection appeared above the stage.
It displayed Minato inside the game world.
The game—called "Fruit Ninja" by Kei—was now live in front of 5,000 people.
Minato, playing for the first time, looked around curiously.
He found himself in a sunny, endless field with blue skies and white clouds. Ahead was a small farm—fields the size of a soccer pitch, and a few wooden houses beyond.
It was bright and peaceful, nothing like the bleak game "Return Home."
Everything felt real: the smell of grass and soil, the warmth of sunlight. Minato couldn't help but smile.
The crowd couldn't feel what he felt—but they could see it all clearly.
Gasps filled the venue.
They hadn't entered the game, but the visual and audio impact alone stunned them.
And this—was just the beginning of their amazement.