Hatake Sakumo finally met his son, Hatake Kakashi.
At the Konoha Game Center Headquarters.
After completing their mission, Kakashi and his teammates had rushed straight over without hesitation.
Their posture gave off a strong sense of déjà vu—just like students on Earth who used to rush to arcades after school, then to internet cafes, and later to mobile phone shops or smartphone lounges.
Sakumo frowned instinctively.
He didn't have the mindset that games were inherently bad, but seeing his son and his teammates sprinting toward the game center left this father feeling unsettled.
This unease even dulled the anxiety he had felt about their reunion.
Silently, Sakumo stepped into the game center. A cheerful staff member greeted him with a smile.
Such warm hospitality rendered Sakumo speechless. He was unaccustomed to this treatment.
It wasn't that he'd never been served well before, but it had always been by retainers of noble families or at places like pleasure houses—completely different environments.
Still, Sakumo said nothing. After a moment of thought, he took out a black card.
This card had been given to him by Uchiha Kei before he left, with the explanation that it was a top-tier VIP card under the Konoha Game Association. Presenting it at any affiliated store would grant the highest level of service.
This was the Black Gold Membership Card, introduced just a month ago.
The staff member was momentarily stunned at the sight of the card. Then his expression shifted, and he bowed respectfully, apologizing and saying he would call the manager immediately to personally serve Sakumo.
However, Sakumo stopped him and expressed his wish to keep a low profile.
The staff member understood and composed himself, then continued to guide Sakumo inside with utmost professionalism.
There, Sakumo witnessed a scene that could only be described as the Shinobi World's version of cyberpunk. Customers lay, leaned, or slumped in seats with their eyes closed, as if asleep.
However, chakra from the Genjutsu games still flowed. With the illusion scrolls in effect, each person's consciousness had entered the illusion world.
Besides the open public gaming area, there were cubicles and private rooms. The cubicles were separated by wooden partitions, giving players a semi-private space—inspired by internet cafes in Japan on Earth.
Private rooms were actual enclosed rooms with full setups, allowing individuals or groups to play. Aside from being pricier, they were far superior in every aspect. These were true VIP zones.
All around the game center were large and small projection displays showing livestreams of players' gameplay or promotional trailers for various games, reinforcing a surreal cyberpunk dissonance for the Shinobi World.
Additionally, the center included a rest area, dining area, and even accommodations for sleep—allowing customers with enough money to live entirely within the game center.
In fact, quite a few people had essentially made the game center their home. The atmosphere strongly echoed Kei's memories.
Of course, the Konoha Game Association's centers maintained excellent service and environments—far superior to any "black internet cafes" whether on Earth or in the Shinobi World.
The staff proudly mentioned this when giving their tour, and even couldn't help but criticize the poor service of black-market game centers.
Some unscrupulous merchants and nobles had indeed begun opening such centers in regions beyond the Game Association's control or in countries that banned their entry.
Due to the many export points for Genjutsu games, smuggling was rampant. Many games were single-player, requiring no network or multiplayer support. Thus, the Association's backend services were optional.
Naturally, black-market operators exploited this, opening their own centers and profiting from locals.
Prices varied by region but were often even higher than official centers, since Genjutsu games weren't cheap and selling them at low prices wouldn't be profitable.
The Konoha Game Association was well aware of these activities. A little investigation would uncover them, but they didn't interfere—because that was Kei's directive.
"Though these black centers are non-compliant, our influence hasn't reached those areas yet. Rather than trying to manage them now, let them be. They help expand our market and train users.
"When we eventually extend our reach, we'll have a ready-made market to refine and take over.
"Even if we can never exert control, the games used in those places are still ours. We still earn a share of the profits."
This was Kei's reasoning, which earned unanimous praise from others for his foresight, commercial acumen, and strategic vision.
Kei himself remained calm. He claimed it was just a trick Earth people had already played out. Why did Microsoft let pirated Windows proliferate in China?
Simple: to seize the market. Few knew that in the early 2000s, China had its own OS and tested it in internet cafes. But due to stability issues, it was crushed by pirated Windows.
Kei's attitude toward black centers mirrored that logic. Letting them grow had drawbacks, but the benefits were obvious.
Even now, the system still counted players in those centers as Kei's users—just not in sales figures.
For Kei, who was now easily meeting his mission quotas thanks to high game prices, this marginal revenue was negligible.
Of course, the staff didn't know all this. Though they criticized the black centers, their pride and joy in their work was evident.
To this former ordinary Konoha citizen, the job was dignified and fulfilling. Classic corporate culture had thoroughly taken root.
Sakumo listened without commenting. Though newly revived and briefed on much, he still had many questions.
Cautious and composed, Sakumo didn't speak rashly on unfamiliar topics. Even on familiar ones, he remained reserved. He was the epitome of prudence.
To someone like him, this new world was a whole new domain. He would understand it carefully, not judge it hastily.
But more than all this commercial talk, something else weighed on his mind—
"Earlier, I saw the three members of Minato's team come in, but I didn't see them in the main hall. Are they in a private room or a cubicle?"
Sakumo asked, since he hadn't spotted Kakashi or his friends.
The staffer blinked in surprise, then looked at Sakumo in astonishment.
Minato's team was a regular presence here and had special privileges—after all, they were Minato Namikaze's students.
Minato held privileges within the Association not merely because he was the Hokage's aide, but because he was Kei's closest friend.
Thanks to that bond, the trio had received considerable benefits at the game center.
Thus, the staffer grew alert. Suspicion stirred.
He even began doubting the legitimacy of Sakumo's Black Card.
After all, in the Shinobi World, spies and infiltrators were never in short supply.
But Sakumo, ever sharp, immediately sensed the shift.
He was mildly surprised. From his perspective, his son and his friends were just ordinary ninja academy graduates. Why would asking about them arouse suspicion?
Now intrigued, he remained calm.
Rather than escalate things, Sakumo simply handed over the card.
"This card was given to me by Lord Kei himself. You may verify it. Lord Kei said it has an anti-forgery mechanism. If it's fake, it will be obvious."
Hearing this, the staffer's expression changed. He grew more respectful.
But maintaining professional standards, he didn't take it on faith. He accepted the card politely, apologized, and promptly went to verify it.
This level of caution was exactly what Sakumo admired. Only such thoroughness could minimize the enemy's chances to exploit vulnerabilities.
This Konoha Game Association was indeed exceptional—a testament to Kei's vision.
With this thought, Sakumo waited in the rest area.
Soon, the staffer returned, accompanied by another, more formally dressed individual with an imposing air and blond hair—clearly from the Yamanaka clan. A nametag on his chest confirmed it.
This Yamanaka manager respectfully returned the card with both hands and apologized for the earlier lapse.
Given the public setting, he invited Sakumo to discuss things further in his office.
Sakumo agreed with a simple, "Thank you for your trouble."
Inside the office, the Yamanaka manager dismissed the staffer, poured tea, and spoke.
"Sir, we have verified that your Black Card is genuine—it is indeed Lord Kei's. So, may I ask, what is your relationship to Lord Kei?
"I apologize for asking. But the significance of this card is immense, and we must be certain. Also, the three members of Minato's team are VIP guests handpicked by Lord Kei. We are obligated to protect their privacy."
His words were careful, respectful, but principled. He didn't grovel despite the Black Card.
Sakumo quietly nodded, admiring this integrity. Though unfamiliar with the man, he could tell that with such character, and if paired with shinobi talent, this manager would be wasted in retail.
Then again, Sakumo acknowledged that the world had changed, and his views were outdated. He kept his thoughts to himself.
Outwardly, he responded plainly:
"I am Lord Kei's shadow guard. This appearance is a special transformation. It is not my true face."
Simple, direct. A partial truth.
The Yamanaka manager nodded in understanding. That Lord Kei had shadow guards was not surprising. It would be strange if he didn't.
The Uchiha Clan had assigned an entire squad of Three-Tomoe Jōnin to protect Kei around the clock. Not even the Hokage or the clan head enjoyed that.
With that, the manager stopped pressing and told Sakumo that the trio were in a VIP private room. He asked whether Sakumo wanted them summoned.
Sakumo thought for a moment, then shook his head. He said he would observe them for now and meet them after they left the center.
The manager immediately arranged for Sakumo to rest in a VIP lounge and asked if he wanted to play a Genjutsu game. Sakumo declined.
Not out of disinterest. In truth, the White Fang was curious.
But while he looked human, he was technically a "dead man." Who knew if these Genjutsu games designed for the living would malfunction on him?
To avoid risks, he chose not to play.
And so he waited. By evening, the White Fang was sitting expressionless, exuding the quiet rage unique to parents disappointed in their children.
At last, as Kakashi and his teammates exited the center, Sakumo stepped forward and blocked their path.
His voice was firm:
"Hatake Kakashi. Now. With me. To the Survival Training Ground outside the village!"
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