Chapter 03: A False Reality, A Dangerous Game

Chapter 03: A False Reality, A Dangerous Game

A dim, flickering light bulb hung from the ceiling, casting long shadows against the cold, gray walls of the cell. The air was heavy with a damp, metallic scent, and the only sound was the faint hum of ventilation. A small bed, a stainless-steel sink, and a toilet occupied the cramped space. Sasuke Uchiha sat on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his head tilted downward.

He opened his eyes slowly, dark orbs staring at the floor. The Sharingan had long since faded, leaving behind a weary expression. For a moment, he remained still, lost in thought.

"So," he began, his voice calm but edged with bitterness, "this is where I've ended up. After that incident, they called me crazy. Three days in solitary confinement. Plenty of food and water—not treated as a criminal, exactly—but the questions never stopped."

His tone grew more detached as he recounted his ordeal to an invisible audience, a habit he had developed in this strange world.

"They keep asking the same things. 'Why did you do it?' 'What were you thinking?' They don't get it. They can't."

He looked up at the small, barred window near the ceiling of the cell. The faintest sliver of daylight filtered through, barely enough to pierce the gloom.

"I haven't seen the sun in days," he muttered. "And no matter how many times I try to talk to the system, it doesn't answer me. Not even a single notification. It's like it's abandoned me."

Leaning back against the wall, Sasuke let out a long sigh. He was beginning to adapt to the rhythm of this world—waking up, eating, sleeping, feeling fatigue and hunger. Everything felt too real, too visceral.

"And that," he whispered to himself, "is dangerous."

The metallic clank of the cell door being unlocked broke his train of thought. He sat up straight, his senses sharpening as the door creaked open. A police officer stood there, his expression neutral.

"You have a visitor," the officer said.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he stood. His movements were deliberate, his expression unreadable.

The visitor's room was brighter, the sterile white walls illuminated by fluorescent lights. A long table separated visitors from detainees, with chairs arranged neatly on either side. Sasuke was led in and seated at one end of the table. He glanced at the far door as it opened, revealing two figures he recognized immediately.

His mother and father stepped into the room. Mikoto Uchiha's eyes were red and puffy, evidence of sleepless nights and endless tears. Fugaku Uchiha walked beside her, his usual stoic demeanor cracking under the weight of visible worry.

"Sasuke!" Mikoto cried out, rushing forward until she was stopped by the table. She clasped her hands together tightly, her lips trembling.

Fugaku followed more slowly, his jaw set, though his eyes betrayed the storm of emotions swirling within. He sat beside Mikoto, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder.

Sasuke's chest tightened at the sight of them. Their faces, their emotions—it was all so vivid, so genuine. It made the artificiality of this world all the more difficult to believe.

"Are you okay?" Mikoto's voice was soft but strained. She leaned forward slightly, desperate for reassurance.

Sasuke hesitated before nodding. "I'm fine."

"Fine?" Fugaku's voice was firm, laced with a mixture of anger and hurt. "Three days in solitary confinement, Sasuke. Do you call that fine?"

Mikoto placed a hand over her husband's, shaking her head slightly. "We're not here to scold him," she whispered. Turning back to Sasuke, she asked, "Did we... fail you somehow? Were we not there for you when you needed us?"

Sasuke's eyes widened slightly. "No. That's not—"

Mikoto cut him off, her voice breaking. "If we hurt you, if we missed something—if you ever felt like you couldn't talk to us—we're so sorry."

Fugaku looked down at the table, his hand tightening into a fist. "I thought I was a good father. Strict, maybe, but fair. Did I push you too hard? Expect too much?"

The weight of their words pressed down on Sasuke, guilt gnawing at his insides. He clenched his fists under the table, his nails digging into his palms.

"Please," he thought, a silent plea echoing in his mind. "This is enough. Stop. Is this really just a game anymore?"

The raw emotion in the room overwhelmed him. The AI had woven a world so convincing, so tangible, that he found himself questioning the very fabric of his reality. Was this truly a game, or had he been trapped in something far more sinister?

Before Sasuke could respond, the door opened again, and a police officer stepped in. "The boy has been stable for the past three days," he informed them. "He can leave, but only if he signs a few documents and promises not to attempt anything reckless again."

Back in the visitor's room, Sasuke signed the necessary forms. His movements were automatic, his mind elsewhere. As they left the station, his parents flanking him protectively, Sasuke avoided their gazes.

The drive home was silent. Sasuke sat in the backseat, staring out the window as the city lights flickered past. Neon signs illuminated the streets, some displaying images of pro heroes like Endeavor and All Might. Their larger-than-life personas seemed to mock his internal struggle.

"It's hard to treat this world like a game anymore," he whispered to himself, his breath fogging the glass. "Maybe I need to stop fighting it. Blend in. Wait for someone in the real world to rescue me... if that's even possible."

The Uchiha household was as immaculate as Sasuke remembered, every corner spotless and carefully arranged. Mikoto and Fugaku moved cautiously around him, their concern evident in every glance and gesture.

"Enough," Sasuke finally said, his tone firm but not unkind. "It was all a misunderstanding. I wasn't trying to..." He trailed off, unwilling to say the word.

Fugaku crossed his arms, his gaze hardening. "We don't need to discuss it further," he said. "But know this—you've shaken the trust your mother and I had in you. That trust will take time to rebuild."

Sasuke nodded silently.

"Go to your room," Fugaku added, his voice quieter but no less authoritative. "I don't want to see you again tonight."

Without a word, Sasuke turned and ascended the stairs. His footsteps were steady, his expression unreadable.

Closing the door behind him, Sasuke leaned against it for a moment, letting out a slow breath. His room was as he'd left it—simple, clean, with minimal decor. A desk, a bed, and a mirror hung on the wall opposite the door.

He stepped toward the mirror, his reflection staring back at him. His dark eyes bore into his own, as if searching for answers.

"I have to stop acting like a lunatic," he muttered. "If the AI is testing me, trying to break me, then I'll show it just how far human willpower can go."

Straightening, Sasuke addressed the unseen force he believed was behind his predicament.

"This world you've created to trap me? I'll make it my playground. You'll regret choosing me as your target, you damn system."

His gaze shifted to the closet. Pulling it open, he found a short-sleeved blue shirt, gray shorts, and a pair of arm guards. A small bundle of shuriken sat on the shelf, glinting faintly under the room's light.

A small smile tugged at his lips. "At least you gave me the basics," he muttered. "Fine by me."

He grabbed the clothes, tossing them onto the bed. As he changed, his resolve solidified.

"Sasuke Uchiha," he whispered to himself, "is logging into the game. Starting now."

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