Brown rice balls and pickles

Setsuna had been kicked out of the clan meeting and sat alone on the steps.

The setting sun stained the horizon blood-red.

The colors were prettier than any sky texture he had ever seen, no matter how much work the artists had poured into it-

The sky shifted from deep blue to azure, then through a layer of gold, from orange-red to blood-red, its gradations so distinct they hardly looked airbrushed by an artist.

He looked around at the buildings in the clan compound.

The contrast hit him immediately.

What kind of poor, backward, primitive tribe was this?

Most houses had frames built from wood and bamboo, topped with thatch. The roads were packed dirt, without even a decent paving stone.

Knowing the game designers, when imagining the Uchiha Clan's Warring States-era compound, which the original story had never described, they might have thrown in some extravagant complex with a castle keep, carved beams, painted pillars, and lanterns hanging high, letting players take snapshots and boosting daily active users.

But the shabby houses before him were a much better fit for the Warring States era.

Since when had the designers cared about authenticity?

Setsuna sighed. Only then did he turn his attention back to figuring out what those inexplicable rebellion points actually were.

With a thought, he summoned it.

An extremely crude interface appeared before his eyes.

Rebellion points: 7.

Below were three basic stats, each followed by a "Level 1" label:

Focus: Level 1.

Stamina: Level 1.

Recovery: Level 1.

Below the stats was a line of small text: Spend 10 rebellion points to raise any basic stat to Level 2. Once all basic stats reach Level 5, derivative talents will unlock.

In other words, this was a skill tree. The basic stats were its roots, and the derivative talents its branches. Once he maxed everything out, perhaps it would grow into a complete skill tree with lush, spreading branches.

Setsuna quickly did the math in his head: he had seven rebellion points now. Three more, and he could choose any one stat to upgrade.

His gaze settled on "Focus."

Based on his understanding of game systems like this, focus had to be linked to mental power.

And the Uchiha Clan's Sharingan was inextricably tied to mental power. Ocular power was essentially mental energy made manifest, so the higher his focus, the stronger his use of the Sharingan should become.

Then there was recovery.

That was even easier to understand-max it out, and he might gain automatic regeneration that required no hand seals, just like Hashirama Senju, with a health bar that never bottomed out.

In the game, Hashirama's passive healing was one of the mechanics players hated most. Knock off a third of his health, and it came right back. Knock off half, and it came right back. He was practically a walking healing fountain.

As for stamina, it seemed to split into two branches: strength and agility. Strength determined attack power and the ability to break defenses, while agility determined speed and evasion.

Three paths, three directions for development. Focus corresponded to ocular techniques, recovery to survival, and stamina to taijutsu.

As long as he earned enough rebellion points, he could max out every stat. All three basic stats at their highest level, every derivative talent unlocked-by then, he could use Susanoo, Tengai Shinsei, all of it himself.

Setsuna pictured the scene:

He stood in the middle of a battlefield with his arms folded, looking down at the enemies sprawled at his feet, delivering that classic line in Madara Uchiha's unhurried tone-

"You have no hope left. All that remains... is despair."

What a goddamn flex.

When the time came, he would smash Tengai Shinsei right into Madara Uchiha's face, too.

"Setsuna-let's go have dinner."

A voice interrupted his fantasy.

Setsuna opened his eyes and saw a little curly-haired boy standing before him.

The child was about six, nearly half a head taller than him, with curly black hair sticking out around his ears and a sweet smile rarely seen in the aloof Uchiha Clan.

Kagami Uchiha.

Setsuna knew his adult character card. Like Setsuna's adult version, he was a B-rank ninja, with a frighteningly sparse character bio-

Tobirama Senju's student, Hiruzen Sarutobi's classmate, Shisui Uchiha's grandfather. He had died at twenty-five in a battle where he stayed behind to cover his comrades' retreat.

A background character among background characters.

But something else was what really concerned Setsuna.

Kagami Uchiha, Tobirama Senju's student.

And Setsuna's character bio read: With a three-tomoe Sharingan, attempted to assassinate the Second Hokage. Failed and died.

The Second Hokage was Tobirama Senju.

In other words, the little curly-haired boy smiling kindly at him would one day become Tobirama Senju's student, while Setsuna himself would go on to attempt Tobirama Senju's assassination, only to die at his hands.

Setsuna's brow furrowed deeply.

But he said nothing. He simply made a mental note, then rose from the steps and followed Kagami Uchiha toward the meal distribution point.

The auntie handing out food was a woman in her forties, her face already lined with wrinkles, wearing an apron with several patches.

She took shaped rice balls from a wooden basin and handed them to each clan member in line.

An idea suddenly occurred to Setsuna.

He only needed three more rebellion points to upgrade, and the previous three times, he had earned them unintentionally.

The name suggested that earning rebellion points meant he had to rebel.

If he deliberately objected to someone, could he earn rebellion points that way, too?

The auntie cooking for them would make a convenient test.

When his turn came, she casually took a rice ball from the wooden basin and offered it to him.

Setsuna gave it a cursory glance and asked, as though looking for a fight, "Is this all? How's anyone supposed to fill up on something like this?"

After speaking, he waited inwardly for that "ding."

One second.

Two seconds.

His mind remained completely silent.

No "ding."

Setsuna was a little disappointed that even such blatant fault-finding had earned him no rebellion points.

But the auntie looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, Setsuna. Once the daimyo pays us for the missions, we'll be able to buy meat. Then I'll make you cured-meat rice balls, all right?"

Looking at the crooked patches on her apron, Setsuna felt embarrassed instead.

He lowered his head and muttered, "...It's fine."

Setsuna accepted his portion, his fingers trembling.

His worldview had collapsed.

Resting in his palm was a brown rice ball with some of the husks still attached.

As a game character, he had seen all kinds of sweets and delicacies in the shop-Ichiraku Ramen, yokan, three-colored dango, red bean soup. Every one had been painstakingly modeled by the art team and rendered specifically to look appetizing.

But what was this?

A brown rice ball so coarse it was almost absurd, without even a sheet of nori wrapped around it.

Seeing him standing there in a daze, the auntie turned and took a fingernail-sized chunk of coarse salt from a clay jar, placing it in Setsuna's palm.

"Lick this as you eat. It'll taste a little better."

Setsuna accepted it with a numb expression and gave it a lick. His entire face instantly scrunched up.

Compared with the carefully seasoned dishes in the game shop, this stuff could hardly even be called seasoning!

Under the auntie's expectant gaze, Setsuna reluctantly opened his mouth and bit into the rice ball.

There was a crunch.

Expressionlessly, Setsuna spat into his hand.

A bloodied baby tooth lay quietly in his palm amid the half-chewed brown rice.

Something's wrong. Something's very wrong!

In the game, a character's health bar shrank when they were injured, then filled back up as they automatically recovered after leaving combat.

Using ninjutsu didn't require hand seals, either. Once the cooldown ended and the button lit up, he could fire it off.

But this was different!

He pressed his tongue against the gap and could clearly feel the empty tooth socket and taste the blood.

The wound hadn't healed. The tooth hadn't grown back. There was no health bar providing visual feedback, no "Recovering" status icon, no progress bar.

His eyes widened in disbelief.

So this place was real!

Every hair on Setsuna's body stood on end at once.

In the game, he had been crushed by Tengai Shinsei, slashed by Susanoo, and blasted by Truth-Seeking Orbs. Every time his health bar hit zero, the system had dampened the pain he felt.

But now it was different.

This body could bleed and get hurt. Its wounds wouldn't heal on their own.

This body could die!

He really could die! And he wouldn't come back!

As that realization struck him, Uchiha Setsuna's fingers closed tightly around the baby tooth in his palm.

And how did the Uchiha Clan end?

As a game character, he knew the story that followed better than anyone alive here.

Madara Uchiha and Hashirama Senju would make peace and establish Konohagakure in the Land of Fire. The entire Uchiha Clan would move there and become part of the village.

But what awaited them wasn't peace. It was suspicion, exclusion, and being forced step by step to the village's fringes.

Decades later, the entire clan would be branded "rebels" and slaughtered in a single night by a thirteen-year-old boy.

But Uchiha Setsuna would die even earlier than the Uchiha Clan-

His character bio spelled it out clearly: Three-Tomoe Sharingan. Attempted to assassinate the Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju. Failed and died.

But if all of this was real, if this world wasn't a game instance but the actual past-then what he had to do next was far more than simply "survive."

Ally with the Senju? Found Konoha? Then get exterminated decades later by a bunch of Konoha ninja who claimed to be righteous?

What a fucking joke.

He would rather spend his entire life sitting on the steps of the Uchiha Clan Compound, gnawing on gritty brown rice balls, than go to that damned Konoha and become an ostracized second-class citizen. And he certainly didn't want to die at Tobirama Senju's hands.

We can't ally with the Senju.

Since the clan's extermination was a future that would only happen after the village was founded, all he had to do was stop its founding from the very beginning.

In a sense, this was saving himself. It was also rebellion.

Rebellion against the future, against fate, against the choice Madara Uchiha would one day make.

Like hell I'm joining that damned Konoha.

While he stood lost in thought, the auntie wrapped several rice balls in a bowl with cloth, stopped a passing messenger ninja, and asked him to take them to the clan leader.

Setsuna suddenly realized something: those rice balls looked exactly like everyone else's.

So Madara Uchiha ate this stuff, too.

The Uchiha of the Warring States era ate from a communal pot. Even when it came to gritty brown rice balls, there was no difference between the clan leader and ordinary clan members.

What did that make this?

He remembered a term his player often used-a planned economy.

"Setsuna, try this." Kagami Uchiha pushed a small dish toward him. "My mother made these pickles."

Setsuna glanced down.

The small dish held several dark strips, giving off an indescribable smell that was sour with a hint of stink and stinky with a hint of sour.

But seeing the tentative kindness in Kagami Uchiha's eyes, Setsuna forced down his refusal.

He reached out, pinched a strip of pickle, held his breath, and put it in his mouth. His whole face instantly turned green.

The taste in his mouth blanked his mind for half a second. Saltiness, sourness, bitterness, and astringency mixed together and shot straight to the top of his skull.

Kagami Uchiha watched him expectantly. "Is it good? Lots of people in the clan say my mother's pickles..."

"Pretty good."

Setsuna interrupted him expressionlessly.

Kagami Uchiha smiled happily.

Setsuna had only one thought: perhaps people in this era had a different sense of taste from normal people.

He picked up the brown rice ball again and ate it bite by bite, along with the coarse salt and pickles.

He was a C-rank card, tossed into this brutal era by some fucking idiot of a game designer.