The three options that suddenly appeared were like a last straw—almost bringing Akira to tears of joy.
What did I tell you?!
How could a true transmigrator like me not get something like this?
He quickly scanned the choices.
It wasn't a legendary system, a cheat code, or some old man falling from the sky—
but it was three clear options!
And better yet, they came with an immediate reward: one of the ultimate ocular techniques—the Rinnegan or the Tenseigan—right from the start!
My system is amazing! So powerful!
Akira couldn't help but feel a surge of secret excitement.
They automatically dismissed the third option.
What use was charm when you were just going to die with your eyes closed?
That left a choice between Option One and Option Two.
After careful consideration, he settled on Option One.
First, from a reward standpoint, the Rinnegan was objectively more versatile and powerful than the Tenseigan.
Second, choosing Option Two still carried a high risk of certain death.
And third—though this wasn't really a logical reason—he personally preferred Princess Kaguya.
But why was Option Two so dangerous?
For one, now that Kaguya's plot had been exposed, what would she do afterward? Once the dust settled, wouldn't she take her anger out on him first?
And how was an infant supposed to defend himself against a furious Otsutsuki?
Second, Ōtsutsuki Isshiki's personality was unpredictable—and poorly fleshed out in the original canon. There was no guarantee he'd believe Akira's warning.
Worse, the original story never clearly explained why Kaguya betrayed Isshiki in the first place. Without that context, Akira's explanation might sound vague or even suspicious.
What if Isshiki interpreted his words as deliberate provocation? He'd be dead on the spot.
And even if Isshiki did believe him—if the two Otsutsuki turned on each other and started fighting right then and there—how could a helpless baby possibly stay unharmed in the middle of that chaos?
No, Option One was clearly the only viable path.
He knew the story of Kaguya's sealing inside and out: how her sons changed, why she was sealed, the exact methods used, and even the location of her prison.
He could explain everything clearly and convincingly—which made his testimony far more credible by comparison.
Of course, even in the best-case scenario, freedom would likely be out of the question. From that point on, he'd probably be coddled, controlled, and treated as a tool.
But as long as he was alive, there was hope—and he couldn't forget about the system's reward!
Who knew? Maybe he could even use the Rinnegan to pretend he was a legitimate member of the Ōtsutsuki clan.
That alone would give him a fighting chance to turn the tables someday.
It was a shame Akira had died so young in his previous life—the kind of anti-cliché, high-risk choice story hadn't even become popular yet.
Most people wouldn't even consider it seriously.
LOL. Who in their right mind would think like that?
Everyone else would've picked the safest, lowest-reward option without hesitation.
But not him.
He dove straight into analysis—aiming unflinchingly for the choice with the highest possible reward.
He might just be the first transmigrator bold enough to make this kind of gamble… right from the very beginning.
After analyzing the situation, Akira couldn't help but give himself a mental thumbs-up. Brilliant, he thought. Absolutely brilliant.
Without hesitation, he shouted inwardly: "I choose option one!"
Then—before he could even savor his decisive moment—his mouth opened and out came:
"Aba aba aba…"
Akira: "???"
What… was that?!
Ishiki frowned. "Can't understand a word."
Princess Kaguya tilted her head, then shook it slowly. "Nonsense."
Akira's soul withered.
That was supposed to be his grand, system-triggering declaration? "Aba aba aba"?!
His eyes widened in horror. Despair clawed its way back into his chest.
Oh right—he was a baby. A literal infant. His vocal cords hadn't even figured out vowels yet, let alone plot-altering dialogue choices.
He'd forgotten the cruel truth of transmigration: in Naruto, newborns don't monologue. Hell, even baby Naruto just cried, drooled, and occasionally glowed with chakra. Not a single intelligible word until he was years old.
This realization plunged Akira into existential dread.
No matter how hard he willed it—Option One! Option One!—his chubby lips refused to cooperate. The system remained stubbornly silent. No flashy menus. No divine voice. Just gurgles and the impending sense that he was about to be erased from existence.
"What is this brat babbling about?" Ōtsutsuki Isshiki scowled, tapping his black rod impatiently. "Enough noise. Kill them already. Their pathetic squirming is tiresome."
He took a step forward, staff glinting with deadly intent.
Akira's heart hammered. Moments ago, the appearance of three system options had felt like salvation—like every isekai protagonist before him, he'd assumed fate was finally cutting him a break.
But now?
Reality was cold.
And final.
He couldn't speak.
He couldn't fight.
He couldn't even crawl away.
With a sigh that barely stirred the air, Akira closed his eyes.
He couldn't bear to watch Kaguya's serene, porcelain face one second longer. Every glance made him ache—was it admiration? Fear? Or just the cruel irony of dying inches from legendary beauty?
But just before his lashes met…
He swore he saw it.
A faint, enigmatic smile curling at the corner of Kaguya's rose-petal lips.
Then—
[You have chosen Option Three: Remain silent, close your eyes, and accept fate.]
[Mission Complete.]
[Reward: Charisma +1]
Akira: …Seriously?