Uchiha Kei: Game Dev in the Shinobi World

The finals had begun. Kakashi and Obito, in perfect sync, instantly activated what could only be described as an intense showdown mode.

On the uneven, rock-strewn wasteland map, the two of them let out roars as if they were sworn enemies.

"Kakashi!!"

"Obito!!"

"Secret Art: Blood Mist Thousand Kill!"

"Ultimate Technique: Flash Prison Slash!"

After their fiery shout-out of each other's names, both launched their ultimate moves right out the gate, showing off their 'friendly rivalry' in the most explosive way possible.

The impact sent them flying in opposite directions. Each took a massive hit—both health bars plummeted to yellow, about 40% gone. Classic shōnen energy: take the damage, never lose the spirit.

And then—without warning—the iconic Naruto battle BGM, "Gekiha (Shaking Heaven)," began to play.

This track, beloved by fans from a previous life, now roared through the shinobi world. The fiery sound stirred everyone's blood. It was everything they'd ever dreamed of from a hot-blooded battle. One by one, the audience rose to their feet, eyes locked on the two fighting figures.

In-game, Namikaze Minato observed the passionate clash in silence, then smiled and turned toward the leisurely approaching Akimichi Torifu.

"Torifu-dono," Minato greeted politely.

The muscular, dark-skinned Torifu grinned in return but made no move to fight. Instead, he turned to watch the battle.

"Minato, those two are your students, right?"

Minato nodded. "Yes, they are my proud disciples."

"Then let's hold off a bit," Torifu said. "Let's see which one of those little guys wins. The music, the way they're fighting—it's got my old bones burning with youthful fire."

Minato agreed, happy to witness such a clash between his pupils. This wasn't just for show—he wanted to see who came out on top. A battle full of power, passion, and no risk of actual death? Who wouldn't want to watch?

Even Uchiha Madara, typically lounging lazily, was now sitting upright, his eyes glued to the screen, his Sharingan activated.

Sure, to him, this was kid-level stuff. But those fervent shouts of each other's names—it hit him like a thunderbolt. Memories surged back.

"Hashirama…"

He murmured the name of the man who haunted his past, lost in nostalgia, bittersweet and filled with longing.

Meanwhile, Kakashi and Obito once again shouted each other's names as they clashed, their flashy techniques lighting up the battlefield like a neon rave.

To Madara's aging Sharingan, it wasn't just a fight—it was a vivid memory of his youth, of his rivalry with Hashirama Senju.

He closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift back decades…

When he opened them again, a fire now burned in his gaze. He couldn't reclaim his Hashirama, but through this game, he could at least test the spirit of today's shinobi.

Madara wasn't alone in this feeling. Many seasoned ninja watching felt the same—aching to leap into the fray, to experience that reckless, explosive thrill.

It was addicting. This was a new kind of "burn"—not just a clash of fists, but a full-on audiovisual assault. Battle choreography, stirring music—it was almost irrational how exhilarating it was.

And who could resist that? A battle so epic, so satisfying, so hyped—it was worth dying for!

"Ohhhhhh!! My dearest friends Kakashi and Obito! You're both so youthful! So passionate! I can't take it anymore! This kind of battle—how can I not be in it?! Damn ittttt!!!"

Inside the VIP box for the Might duo, Might Guy had tears streaming down his face, shaking with emotion like a writhing caterpillar.

Might Duy's response? Immediate.

WHAM.

He decked his son with a controlled punch, knocking Guy flat.

"Son, have you forgotten my words? Self-restraint. Even youth must be tempered with discipline!"

"You can't just lose yourself every time your friends go all out in front of a crowd! Someday, under Lord Kei's guidance, you'll stand on an even greater stage. Do you want to shame him by losing control then?"

Guy blinked through the pain, guilt flooding his face. "I'm sorry, Father! I lost control… I failed youth!"

Duy nodded solemnly. "Good. As punishment, you'll run ten laps around Konoha after the press conference. I'll run with you."

Eyes brimming with tears, Guy cried out, "Father!"

Duy patted his shoulder. "It's only right. As father and son, we stand together—like your ninja way of youth demands. If you're committed, give it your all. No regrets."

Guy hugged him, wailing, the scene so dramatic you'd think it was from a slapstick comedy.

Good thing this wasn't the future, and Might Duy wasn't Rock Lee, or you'd have two green bowl-cuts sobbing in harmony.

Elsewhere, in the staff room, Nohara Rin watched the match with a completely different mindset. Seeing her teammates crash into each other so passionately had shocked her—and yes, the music and visuals were thrilling… at first.

But that thrill faded, replaced by an odd, uneasy feeling.

Obito aside, something about Kakashi felt off. He wasn't the kind of person to scream names and throw himself into an all-out brawl. Even at his most emotional, he kept control.

So what was going on? Screaming "Obito!" while launching full-power attacks, not dodging incoming strikes—it was so out of character. Was he losing it, or just done caring?

Rin didn't get it. But she was shaken.

In-game, both health bars were red. Kakashi and Obito had clashed so fiercely, exchanging blow for blow, that they were on the brink of mutual defeat. One final strike remained.

It was certainly exciting for them. Obito was all-in, burning with passion. Kakashi? Not quite.

He was just doing his mission.

Yes—Rin was right to be suspicious. Something was definitely off.

Kakashi's behavior was no accident. Before the match, Uchiha Kei had given him a secret task: go full drama, fight Obito in the finals like it was a life-or-death grudge match. Scream his name. Get the crowd going.

Kakashi had been stunned. Mortified, even. That wasn't his style—he wasn't built for over-the-top theatrics.

But Kei had him cornered.

"Kakashi, don't you always say ninja must put the mission first? This is your mission. Or are you going to betray your own code?"

It was basically the ninja equivalent of, "You wouldn't want something… unfortunate… to happen, would you?"

Kakashi, still a brash young boy who hadn't lived through the Third Great War or Obito's death, was all about mission-first ideology. So he had no choice.

No matter how reluctant, Kakashi had to go along with it.

And now, forced to yell and flail like a lunatic in battle, Kakashi wanted nothing more than to vanish. To die from embarrassment. It was humiliating.

His only solace? He was using an avatar—not his real body. That helped him survive the shame. Barely.

Now, overcome with self-loathing and cringing with every shout, he just wanted to end it all. To drag Obito down with him.

And he did.

With a final clash—accompanied by one last dramatic shout—the two finished each other off. One beheaded by a blade, the other garroted by chains.

Double KO. Curtains down.

Uchiha Kei, mastermind behind this entire show, nodded in satisfaction. Kakashi had nailed the role. The drama, the emotional impact—it was all perfect.

As the scene closed, Kei reaped his true reward: a massive wave of emotional energy from the livestream viewers—and two golden spirits.

This was his experiment. Could a dramatic, live-streamed performance, viewed by a crowd of powerful figures, generate golden spirits through combined emotional resonance?

Turns out: yes.

And Kei was right. With viewers like Madara, it didn't even require them to play. Just watching was enough.