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“The world doesn’t revolve around you,” Obito exclaimed proudly, his goggles reflecting the glare of the afternoon sun and making Kakashi squint. “Some people actually have hobbies.” Businesslike, he turned and headed in a direction opposite to the Uchiha compound.
Kakashi couldn’t believe his ears. Did Obito just refuse to play with everybody? Strange disappointment tickled his back and sides, fingers curling into half-fists.
The Uchiha boy had never been able to resist a challenge offered by Kakashi, struggling to beat him until he was blue in the face, and honestly, it was Kakashi’s guilty pleasure. Obito never backed down, no matter how silly the game; the other children rarely manifested at least a lick of Obito’s unswerving—sometimes even frankly horrifying—obstinacy. What kind of hobby could change the natural way of things in the playground?
He had to find out.
Kakashi secretly tailed Obito until his self-proclaimed nemesis reached the thick wooden doors of Konoha drama school. It was a department of the shinobi Academy, but in Kakashi’s opinion it was more like a kindergarten where children wasted time wagging their tongues and making faces instead of training real jutsu and martial arts. Who even needs the ability to change the sound of their voice in the thick of battle? Why not just quickly and efficiently eliminate your enemy, no chatting necessary? And those little stage plays? Puerile. (On the other hand, kick-the-can wasn’t much smarter either, but it presented some competition and was an intense physical activity at least. It made more sense for a shinobi).
Kakashi closed his eyes all-knowingly, shrugged, and set course for home, but the questions this new piece of information about Obito had raised kept springing in his head like noxious weeds.
Did Obito think of himself as an actor, or something? That Uchiha who couldn’t tame, imitate or hide a single emotion?
Or could he?
(Oh how Kakashi wished to smother his curiosity).
***
“You’re early today,” noted Sakumo when Kakashi crossed the threshold of their house.
“There’s no one to play with!” he huffed, taking off his shoes.
“Even ‘the future Hokage’ won’t play with you anymore?”
“He took up acting.”
“Oh!” Smiling widely, his father broke off his meditation of polishing ninja tools and looked right into Kakashi’s eyes. “Your mother loved the performing arts.”
“She did?” he asked in a small voice, bewildered.
“Sometimes she was even giving acting classes to kids like your friend!”
“Really? But dad, reciting lines isn’t the same as throwing kunai or climbing cliffs. No wonder Obito can never defeat me.”
“The most masterful victories are achieved without kunai and shuriken. Sometimes, without any jutsu, or even plain fists. Something unpredictable; something no one can calculate beforehand. A word and a smile so natural you’re automatically trapped. Call it no-chakra genjutsu. It’s the art of pretending. Pretending to the point of being somebody else—and taking everybody along for the ride into a reality woven with your charisma, not chakra. Your mother’s word and her smile could trap anybody for good if she desired so. She wasn’t captain of an infiltration squad for nothing.”
“And you’re saying these ridiculous stage plays help?”
“Well…” Sakumo smiled. “If you’re a ninja, pretending is an art worth learning and refining, and our Academy provides classes for kids talented in this area. The skills they’re working on there are very much transferrable and can be put to good use in many aspects of shinobi life; most ninja start learning those later in life though.” He sighed, longer than normal, and shook his head. “But perhaps acting isn’t your thing. It’s okay. There are many other techniques a ninja can put to use.”
The phrasing sent a tiny jab to Kakashi’s ego. So acting was Obito’s thing, then? Was it an area where Obito could outdo him?
Sakumo must have read his thoughts. “Just go and take a look.”
***
Purely for the sake of practicing infiltration (a true shinobi skill!) Kakashi went to take another look.
What he expected to see: kids having fun. Childish pastime.
What he actually saw: the kids were having fun, but the plays were somehow not childish at all. The one they were rehearsing this time was a full-blown historical tragedy that dealt with war, betrayal, loss, disaster, justice and death.
His gaze fell on Obito.
What the...
Obito was the brightest star, the wildest sparkling thing in the play. No outdoor game had ever absorbed him as much as walking across the stage—clomp-clomp—made-up and dressed as some ‘Madara,’ and powerfully roaring out orders. Oh how Obito enjoyed donning that persona! How frighteningly comfortable he was, impersonating the character with the most savage mane of hair ever!
Kakashi completely forgot about his playground buddy’s lousy five years of age; he didn’t even realize he’d been holding his breath watching Obito act.
That Madara guy left Konoha and returned with the flames of destruction burning in his eyes. His friend Hashirama (Genma?! What are you doing here, you fox?) tried to stop him, but in the end had no choice but to kill his former comrade. And so astonishing was the smile of dying Madara, sharp like a young crescent and full of eerie foreboding, that it gave Kakashi goosebumps. His mind couldn’t help but linger on one word: Amazing…
This little drama club was not as pathetic as he’d imagined. And how could Obito act like that? (Did they teach so well here?)
Could Kakashi... do the same?
After the rehearsal, he dashed to one of the teachers and demanded to let him enroll in the school. He hoped he inherited at least a tiny bit of his mother’s talent which Sakumo admired so much.
***
Obito’s glare was almost burning holes in Kakashi’s skin (thankfully, Obito’s Katon left much to be desired yet) while they were reading the script of the new play under the gigantic brim of Kakashi’s straw hat, spread over both of them like an umbrella.
“No one will see your facial expressions if you keep that mask on. On stage, the face is important!”
“Not for my character,” Kakashi said smugly. “A scarecrow doesn’t need to show his face to be convincing. It’s all about the way he moves.” Some theater kami had smiled upon him: such a suitable role, as if tailored for his likes and quirks.
Obito groaned. “What are you even doing here, Kakashi? Did you get so bored — I didn’t even know you’d like — just look at your stupid attire! The kimono and all. The hat. The beads.”
Calmly, Kakashi said, “At least I don’t have those rubber horns sticking out of my forehead.” He was surprised how much he enjoyed baiting Obito this way. It was even more fun than tossing him to the ground on a spar. “Stop being so… dramatic. Maybe I just love a challenge.”
“The horns are a sign that I’ve reached satori! I’m like the Sage of the Six Paths now. I know all the secrets of the universe and I’m cognizant of everything happening in this chaotic mundane world!”
“‘Cognizant,’ yeah, right. Learning new words, Sage Obito?”
“It’s—it’s right there in the script!” He almost pierced the book with a finger.
“I know,” drawled Kakashi. “Don’t forget, though, that Scarecrow helps bring down this Sage in the story. Your character may know all the secrets of the universe, but he’s not ‘cognizant’ of what’s in Scarecrow’s head.”
Obito snorted. “Must be a really special brand of straw.”
While fun, this bickering wasn’t helping to learn the script. Kakashi sighed and refocused on the dialogue. Obito didn’t take the hint, staring at Kakashi with narrowed eyes.
“Just admit you missed me, Scarecrow.”
“Shut up and go back to learning the lines.” He hoped the flush wouldn’t be visible above the mask.
“Ah… Learning lines is my least favorite part of acting,” Obito grumbled. “If I had the Sharingan, would I be able to copy them straight into my memory? I wish I could just improvise whenever I wanted…”
“Obito,” he admonished.
A few more minutes of peace. And then:
“Without me, it was no fun in the playground, right?”
“…”
“Tell me, Bakakashi,” Obito lightly elbowed him in the ribs. “Come on, spill it!”
“All right!” burst out Kakashi, twisting his face into a wild look capable of terrifying any bird, and when Obito’s own eyes jumped wide in bewilderment, Kakashi attacked with a weapon he had never before employed: a crushing hug. “O my viridescent dango ball!” Kakashi intoned. “There’s no place on earth where you can hide yourself from Scarecrow!” The script fell on the floor with a thud.
“Let go of me!” squeaked Obito, flailing his hands — a reaction Kakashi had absolutely anticipated and was now savoring. Unexpected words or actions could effectively unsettle an opponent after all, even if they required a few embarrassing moments of silliness. Maybe he could employ this method on a real mission sometime…
Kakashi released Obito and assumed his typical calm demeanor again.
“You’re weird, you know that?” Obito whined, straightening out his outfit. “Could have opened your heart to me in a less bone-crushing manner.”
“Relax, Obito. It’s just acting. Also known as pretending. An improvisation. A test.”
“‘A good actor is like liquid that takes the shape of the vessel—the persona,’” Obito quoted the teachers. “It wasn’t pretending, not completely. I know how it works, Kakashi! There’s honesty to good acting. Your words were half-true.”
“Have you just admitted I can be a good actor, then?”
“Only because you admitted that you missed me.”
“Actually, I never admitted that.”
“Okay, you didn’t. But Scarecrow did. Now I’m ‘cognizant’ of what’s in your head!’”
Kakashi shrugged. “Just some straw…”
