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One.
The first time Kakashi steals the hat, Obito doesn’t say anything.
He just watches from behind his desk as Kakashi saunters in without knocking, makes direct eye contact with a confidence that can only be described as criminal, and lifts the Hokage hat off its stand like he owns it.
Then he puts it on.
“Fits me better,” Kakashi says.
“You didn’t even adjust the band,” Obito says flatly.
“Natural charisma,” Kakashi replies, and props one hip against the desk like he isn’t tracking dirt across the polished floor with his sandals. “I think I’d make a fine Sixth.”
“You’d last five days,” Obito responds dryly. “Four of them spent hiding from paperwork.”
“Bold of you to assume I’d make it past the inauguration ceremony.”
Obito wants to throw something at him. The inkwell is too expensive. The mission reports are too important. The nearest paperweight is one Rin gave him.
He settles for glaring.
Kakashi doesn’t even blink. He just tips the hat forward over one eye and leans back like he’s considering a nap. Under the soft gold trim of the brim, his visible eye crinkles in a smile.
Obito sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, and reminds himself that murdering his once-teammate (again) would trigger at least three diplomatic incidents.
“Take it off.”
Kakashi says, “Make me.”
It’s not a flirt. Not quite.
Obito does not flush. He absolutely does not.
He doesn't respond right away.
Just stares at him. The man standing in his office, wearing his hat, with all the self-satisfaction of a cat who’s knocked something off the counter just to watch it fall.
Kakashi lifts an invisible teacup in a mock toast. "Long live the Hat."
Obito rubs the bridge of his nose. “Do you ever get tired of being like this?”
Kakashi tilts his head. “Like what?”
“Obnoxious.”
“Only on Wednesdays.”
“It’s Tuesday.”
“Is it?” Kakashi ponders. “Time flies in the presence of greatness.”
Obito gives him a long look.
Kakashi smiles behind the brim, the visible edge of his mask curling in amusement. He makes no move to return the hat.
Instead, he rifles through his vest pocket and produces a folded scrap of paper. Tosses it onto the desk. It lands between two mission reports like a challenge.
Obito eyes it warily.
“What’s that?”
“Payment.”
“For what?”
Kakashi gestures vaguely. “Wearing the hat. Annoying you. Emotional support.”
Obito sighs, picks it up, and unfolds it.
It’s a crumpled sheet of stationery from the hot springs inn outside the village. On it, in Kakashi’s terrible scrawl:
“Gai broke three training dummies. Again.
Naruto tried to dye his hair.
Ino’s new flowers keep eating birds.”
Obito’s eye twitches ever so slightly. He looks at Kakashi, who’s standing there with a smirk, clearly waiting for a reaction.
He blinks twice, then deadpans, "What is this? How is this payment?"
Kakashi shrugs nonchalantly, as if he’s handed over a priceless artifact. “Well, I did go out of my way to gather the intel, didn’t I?”
Obito pauses.
For just a breath.
Then folds the paper in half and tucks it into a drawer.
Kakashi watches him. Doesn’t comment.
Obito picks up his pen again. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”
Kakashi leans against the desk. “That’s never stopped me before.”
“I could have you arrested.”
“Mm.” Kakashi adjusts the hat so it sits jauntily sideways. “But then who’d keep you updated on village gossip and handle your emotionally constipated shinobi?”
Obito doesn’t smile. Not really. But the corner of his mouth twitches like a muscle that forgot itself.
“Fine,” he relents. “You get to stay. But don’t touch anything.”
Kakashi reaches for the paperweight Rin gave him.
Obito glares.
He retracts his hand with an exaggerated sigh. “Not touching.”
They fall into silence again, but it’s quieter this time. Companionable. The candle flickers low, casting long shadows across the floor.
Eventually, Kakashi sighs and settles into the guest chair, long legs crossed at the ankles, hat still cocked at a ridiculous angle. His head tilts back like he’s drifting.
Obito returns to his paperwork.
He doesn’t say anything when Kakashi dozes off.
He doesn’t take the hat back, either.
Two.
The second time Kakashi wanders into the Hokage’s office unannounced, he’s carrying two bento boxes and exactly the same amount of smugness as last time.
Obito doesn’t look up from the pile of documents in front of him. The Iwagakure foreign aid proposal is still taunting him, as it has for the last two hours. The characters blur together in an endless stream of bureaucratic nonsense. He’s only halfway through when Kakashi appears in his peripheral vision.
Obito sighs quietly. "I’m in the middle of something," he mutters, not lifting his eyes from the document.
“Hmm. Doesn’t look like it’s going well.”
Obito huffs but doesn’t respond. The irritation is mounting, but he knows better than to lash out. He tries, instead, to bury himself in the paperwork even deeper, the faint smell of Kakashi’s lunch wafting over the desk.
“You’re scowling at the same line from yesterday,” Kakashi observes, his voice a little too casual as he sets the bento boxes down with a soft clink of the lid. He doesn’t sit. He just stands there, like he’s earned the right to be a fixture in Obito’s workspace.
Obito can already feel his patience slipping away. He’s tried to be efficient with his time, to keep the paperwork from piling up while he’s handling all the village's daily functions, but Kakashi always finds a way to be... distracting. That infuriating calmness of his, like he’s a force of nature that just exists in Obito’s world.
His stomach growls—loudly.
Obito freezes for a moment, cursing his luck under his breath. His stomach had been grumbling for the last hour, a steady reminder that he hasn’t eaten a proper meal all day. But there’s no time for that. Not when there’s this much to deal with. His gaze flicks back down to the mountain of paperwork in front of him.
"Don’t you have something to do?" Obito scowls, trying to mask the hunger he’s feeling with an edge of irritation.
“I was just out on a mission,” Kakashi replies smoothly, tapping a finger on the edge of the desk. “I thought I’d drop by, make sure the Great Hokage is properly fed. And well-informed.”
Obito’s stomach growls again, louder this time.
Kakashi’s lips twitch, and he doesn’t even try to hide the amusement creeping into his expression. He’s been here enough times to know exactly what’s going on. Obito’s too busy being Hokage to pay attention to something as simple as food. A ridiculous thought when you’re this busy, but that’s just how it always ends up, isn’t it?
Obito sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fine. You win, I’m starving. But don’t think this means I’m thankful ." He barely glances at the bento in front of him as Kakashi opens it, a fresh stream of scent hitting his senses. He really should eat something. His body is telling him so in ways he can’t ignore anymore.
“Hmm. Don’t think I’ll be so easily fooled,” Kakashi replies, picking at the contents of the first bento box with a critical eye. “You’ve been busy for days. I can see it in your face. The paperwork’s driving you crazy, isn’t it?”
Obito doesn’t respond right away. His hand hovers over the chopsticks before he finally picks them up, all the while glaring at the pile of documents like they’ve personally offended him.
“Don’t you have something to do?” Obito mutters, trying to brush Kakashi off once more. “I don’t need your... charity.”
But his stomach betrays him again, letting out another grumble that’s louder this time. Kakashi raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the entire scene.
“I’m fine,” Obito mutters under his breath, finally looking at the bento with a huff of annoyance. He picks up the box, opening it, and before he even realizes it, he’s digging in, the first bite of rice almost too comforting to resist.
“You’re really going to keep pretending you don’t need this?” Kakashi leans back against the desk, casual as ever. “I mean, I could have just left it, but you look like you haven’t seen a decent meal in days. Honestly, I’m kind of impressed you’re still standing.”
Obito doesn’t answer. He chews thoughtfully, the food filling the hollow feeling in his stomach with a warmth he hadn’t realized he was missing. It’s not like Kakashi to bring food just because, and for once, Obito doesn’t question it.
Instead, he turns back to the packet of mission intel Kakashi had laid on his desk earlier, eyeing it with more interest now that he’s not half-starved and more focused on the content than his hunger.
“So, what exactly did you find?” Obito finally asks, half-consciously reaching for the mission intel while trying not to seem too thankful for the food.
Kakashi doesn’t reply immediately. He just watches Obito, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips.
“You know, you really should take a break more often," Kakashi comments, shifting slightly, his tone still far too light for the gravity of his words. "If you keep this up, you’ll turn into a walking pile of paperwork and bad decisions."
Obito lifts an eyebrow but says nothing. Instead, he begins reading over the intel, knowing that Kakashi would never just drop it off without a reason.
“Fine, fine,” Obito mutters after a moment of silence, realizing his earlier grumbling might’ve been more out of irritation than actual hunger. “But next time, knock. At least pretend you have some sense of personal space.”
Kakashi snorts and turns toward the door, still holding that trademark air of indifference.
“Not in this lifetime, Hokage. Not in this lifetime.”
Obito watches him go, his stomach finally settling. His gaze shifts back to the intel, and despite himself, he’s grateful. Even if Kakashi’s timing is almost always terrible, there’s something oddly reassuring about his constant presence. A reminder that, even in the midst of all the politics, missions, and paperwork, Obito’s still... well, human.
He leans back in his chair, letting out a quiet sigh. Maybe he’ll survive today after all.
Three.
Obito hates being sick. It’s not even the physical discomfort; he can tolerate the aching limbs and the feverish burn in his head. It’s the vulnerability. The inefficiency. He can’t focus on mission reports when his brain feels like it’s sloshing around in his skull, and he can’t move quickly enough to manage all the things he has to oversee. Konoha doesn't run itself, after all.
Kakashi doesn’t care.
It starts with a slight headache that Obito ignores. Then a cough. Then a fever that refuses to break.
By the time he stumbles out of bed that morning, half-dazed, Kakashi has already beaten him to his office.
Obito finds him at the desk, looking far too comfortable for someone who doesn’t have an appointment. He’s humming something under his breath, sitting sideways in Obito’s chair like he belongs there.
It’s not even early.
“You’re supposed to be on a mission,” Obito mutters, leaning in the doorway to the office, voice rough from the dry cough he can’t quite suppress.
Kakashi turns his head, lifts a brow. “Well, I was. Until you cancelled it.”
Obito pinches the bridge of his nose, a headache blooming like it always does when Kakashi starts being this annoying. “I didn’t cancel anything.”
“You’re sick,” Kakashi says, with the bluntness of someone who doesn’t care if it’s true or not. “Mission intel from the Sand Village can wait.” He pushes a file toward Obito. “I didn’t see you at the briefing yesterday. They said you looked pretty rough.”
Obito gives him a look. “I’m fine.”
Kakashi watches him with a slightly tilted head, looking a bit too fond, but mostly like someone who enjoys testing limits. “Do you have a fever, Hokage?”
Obito glares, reaching for the file to distract himself. It’s not like he can stop Kakashi from doing whatever he wants. He can just endure it and eventually, Kakashi will get bored. He hopes.
But Kakashi doesn’t leave. Not when he’s standing there, watching Obito try to act normal, then pressing his fingers to Obito’s forehead in a way that makes him freeze.
“You are burning up.” Kakashi’s tone is deadpan. He’s almost too calm, almost too pleased with himself. “Let me guess, you’ve been up all night trying to pretend you weren’t sick.”
“I’m not—” Obito starts, but he doesn’t have the energy to finish the sentence. His throat aches, and there’s a faint ringing in his ears.
Kakashi simply clicks his tongue and leans back against the desk, crossing his arms. “Fine. Don’t listen to me. I’ll make a report for you.”
Obito blinks, still processing. “What?”
“I’m going to go make you soup, and I’ll take care of the paperwork.” Kakashi lifts a hand, waving it vaguely as though it’s nothing. “You can stay here and be stubborn, or you can let me take care of you. Your choice.”
Obito opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He’s too tired for this. Kakashi’s sheer persistence should be exhausting, but there’s something disarmingly natural about it, like it’s just another thing Kakashi does without thinking.
“I don’t need soup.” Obito mutters. His head is pounding, and for a brief second, he wonders how Kakashi (the notorious kitchen arsonist) will manage to make an edible creation. But he doesn’t want to ask that.
Kakashi, of course, doesn’t seem to hear him. He turns the seat around, practically pushing Obito onto it. “Soup’s on the way. Take a nap, Hokage.”
Obito sighs. It’s not like he has the energy to protest. Kakashi has already claimed ownership of his schedule anyway.
There’s a moment of silence. Kakashi stands there with that same quiet smile, arms folded. He’s waiting. Obito knows he’s waiting for him to argue or tell him to go away. But he doesn’t have the strength.
So he closes his eyes instead.
“Fine,” he says, a little too quietly. “Fine, you can take care of the paperwork.”
It’s the first time Kakashi doesn’t tease him for it. Instead, he just gives a soft “Mm-hmm” and walks toward the door.
Obito’s eyelids flutter shut, and he allows himself to drift off into an uncomfortable, feverish sleep.
When he wakes up, Kakashi has not only stayed, but has quietly turned all the files in front of him into neat, organized stacks. The bento is still sitting on the desk, and the soup is waiting on the side, still warm.
He didn’t expect this.
Kakashi glances up from the reports, an unspoken question in his gaze.
“Why do you do this?” Obito asks, sleepily.
Kakashi’s lips quirk slightly, but the response is simple. “Someone has to.”
Obito says nothing more, because for some reason, that answer settles everything.
And so, for once, he lets himself rest.
Four.
It takes Obito nearly two hours to notice.
Which is embarrassing, in retrospect. He’s Hokage. He’s supposed to notice things.
But the morning has been a blur of poorly formatted patrol reports, a minor trade dispute brewing with Kumo, and a thoroughly unhelpful messenger hawk that bit him and then knocked over his tea. He’s focused. Tired. And a little irritated.
So when he finally leans back from his desk and glances at the shelf—just out of habit, just because—it takes a second for his brain to register what’s wrong.
He stares.
Then he slowly stands. Walks over. Takes the photo frame off the shelf.
Instead of the picture that used to be there (Team Minato, ten years old, grinning and sun-dazed in front of the training field) there’s something else tucked behind the glass now.
A drawing.
A crudely inked doodle, to be more precise. Thin lines, almost childlike. Four stick figures in a row. One is wearing an absurdly large triangular hat. One has exaggerated spiky hair and is drawn with what appears to be angry eyebrows. Another has a pair of angel wings on their back and little flowers around them. The last is just an outline, faintly sparkly, with “too handsome” scribbled underneath.
Obito stares at it.
He doesn't laugh.
He also doesn’t put it down.
He turns it over and fights the urge to slam his head into the nearest hard surface when he reads what is written in a certain Jounin’s handwriting:
“Preserving the true historical record, Version 1.0. You’re welcome.”
Obito closes his eyes.
He counts to three.
When he opens them again, the stick figure drawing is still there.
He puts the frame back on the shelf, backwards this time, and returns to his desk.
When he catches him…
Ten minutes later, there’s a knock.
It’s not really a knock, more like a tap , a little off-rhythm, like the person on the other side is knocking for show rather than permission.
Obito sighs. “It’s already ruined. Come in.”
Kakashi slips in with the air of someone who has definitely done something. He’s got a folder in his hand and a slouch in his shoulders, like he’s been dragged here against his will by duty alone.
He drops the folder onto the desk. “Mission update.”
Obito flips it open. “Mm.”
Silence.
Then, without looking up, he says, “You touched my photograph.”
Kakashi doesn’t answer right away. Obito glances up just in time to see him tilt his head, vaguely innocent.
“Touched is a strong word,” Kakashi says.
“You replaced it with a drawing.”
“‘Replaced’ is also a strong word.”
“You gave me angry eyebrows.”
“I thought they were accurate.”
“You made yourself Hokage.”
“I am taller than the rest of you.”
Obito closes the folder and folds his hands over it.
“You drew Minato-sensei with sparkles.”
“He sparkles.”
“You gave Rin a halo.”
“She earned it.”
Obito lets his head fall forward onto the desk with a quiet thunk .
There’s a pause.
Then he hears the faint creak of movement. A shift of weight.
“…Do you want me to put the photo back?” Kakashi asks. Genuinely, quietly. It’s not smug. Just a question.
Obito doesn’t answer at first.
Then, muffled into his sleeve, he says, “Leave it. It’s fine.”
“Really?”
“I’m going to frame your next evaluation like this. Just a stick figure with ‘sleeps standing up’ written underneath.”
Kakashi makes a contemplative sound. “Accurate.”
Obito lifts his head just enough to glare at him.
Kakashi smiles with his eye and—infuriatingly—doesn’t leave. He reaches into his vest and pulls something out.
A second drawing.
Same four stick figures, but this time he’s scribbled a little dog next to his own. There’s also a question mark by Minato-sensei’s hair and what might be a badly drawn kunai in Rin’s hand.
He slides it across the desk.
“For Version 2.0,” he says, and disappears out the door before Obito can throw it at his head.
Obito stares after him.
Then, with a quiet sigh, he tucks the new drawing into his top drawer. Just for now.
He’ll switch the photo back later.
Probably.
Eventually.
Maybe.
Five.
It’s nearly midnight when Kakashi finds him.
The Hokage’s tower is dark, save for one dim office window and the faintest chakra flare still lingering in the air, like static. Not many people could follow it. But Kakashi knows how Obito moves. How he disappears when he doesn’t want to be found.
He climbs the outer wall instead of taking the stairs.
Finds him on the roof.
Obito is sitting near the edge, one leg stretched out, the other bent lazily at the knee. The hat is nowhere in sight. His coat is unbuttoned, shoulders faintly hunched, the glow of the village painting his profile in amber and gray.
He doesn’t turn around.
“You don’t sleep much,” Kakashi says, quiet.
Obito doesn’t answer right away.
Kakashi walks over. Doesn’t ask. Just sits next to him.
It’s a clear night. The stars are bright. Lanterns from the outer districts flicker like fireflies, scattered across the hills.
“Didn’t you have a meeting with the Land of Rivers envoys this morning?” Kakashi asks after a while.
Obito gives a noncommittal grunt. “They want cheaper steel shipments and less border patrol oversight.”
“Let me guess,” Kakashi says, “you said no.”
“I said maybe.” Obito pauses. “They said I was being difficult.”
Kakashi huffs, a short laugh. “You are.”
Obito doesn’t rise to it. He leans back on his hands, spine arched just enough to show he’s tired. Not enough to show it’s gotten to him.
“…Sometimes I think I’m not good at this,” he says quietly.
Kakashi glances sideways. “No one is.”
Obito shrugs. “Minato made it look easy.”
Kakashi tilts his head. “Minato also lost ten pounds the first month and didn’t sleep for three days straight when the merchant guilds unionized.”
“…Wait, seriously?”
“I had to carry him back to his house. Kushina threw a pan at him.”
Obito lets out a breath. A half-laugh. Then he’s quiet again.
Easy silence stretches between the two, shaped by the years they’ve lived and the ones they missed. Not the heavy kind. The kind you don’t need to break.
Kakashi doesn’t say You’re doing fine. Doesn’t say I believe in you.
He just sits. Next to him. Shoulder to shoulder. Close enough that Obito doesn’t feel like he’s floating above the village he’s supposed to protect.
Eventually, Obito says, “You’re not going to give me advice, are you.”
“Nope,” Kakashi replies. “Just bothering you.”
Obito shakes his head. Looks back at the village.
“…Don’t stop.”
Kakashi’s visible eye creases.
He doesn’t answer. Just sits there until Obito finally says, “You owe me another bento tomorrow.”
And maybe it’s the stars, or the quiet, or the ache that never fully left him that prevents Kakashi from even considering the possibility of refusal.
He just says, “Okay.”
One.
The sun is low, throwing warm gold over the village, when Obito ends up overlooking Training Ground Three. He's meant to be reading a draft treaty from the Wind Daimyō, but the thing is twenty-four pages of passive-aggressive phrasing, and his brain is full.
He needs a break.
“Why are you like this?” Genma had asked exasperatedly when he saw him sneak out the tower window earlier.
Obito hadn’t answered. Mostly because he didn’t know. But also because the idea of showing up at Kakashi’s training session in disguise and sowing chaos was simply too appealing to resist. He grabbed a mask from a nearby carnival stall, eyeing the thing with distaste. It was a garish, haphazard blend of bright orange and spirals, with a single eyehole that made it look absurd. In other words, it was perfect.
He lands silently in a tree overlooking the field.
Below: a lot of yelling. A blur of blonde speed. A lot of attitude in navy blue. Some actual talent in pink. And, of course, Kakashi on the edge of the field, one knee on a fence post, reading like nothing around him requires supervision.
Typical.
Obito waits until Sasuke throws a handful of shuriken and Naruto yells something about friendship and rushes in to drop into the middle of the field without warning.
The shuriken pass through him with a shimmer.
All three genin freeze.
“What the—?!” Naruto shouts.
Sakura grabs him by the arm. “Naruto, wait! Who—”
Obito raises a hand. “I come bearing wisdom,” he says gravely through the mask. “And judgment.”
They stare at him.
Kakashi doesn’t even look up. “Obito.”
Obito waves cheerily. “Don’t mind me.”
“You’re wearing an atrocious orange mask.”
“Am I?”
“You’re in the full Hokage uniform.”
“I’m undercover,” Obito says, as if it's obvious. “As a civilian. From the Hokage Office.”
“You look like the Hokage.”
“I get that a lot.”
Sasuke, meanwhile, has narrowed his eyes. “This is a prank.”
“It’s not a prank,” Obito says. “It’s an education. ” He turns to Naruto. “Tell me, Orange One. What would you do if a mysterious masked man appeared in the middle of your training and said he’d never seen a less coordinated bunch of genin?”
Naruto gasps. “You take that back!”
“I would,” Obito says. “But you missed that last punch by a good two meters.”
Naruto hurls himself at him with a war cry.
Obito lets the hit go right through him.
Naruto crashes into the dirt face-first.
“Classic,” Obito says, hands on his hips.
“HEY!” Naruto yells, spitting grass. “No fair! Are you even real?!”
“Philosophically?”
“Physically! ”
Sakura is rubbing her temples. “Naruto, please, think before you attack masked strangers.”
“Masked liars, ” Naruto mutters. “That guy’s totally cheating.”
Obito wanders toward Sasuke, who immediately moves back.
“You,” Obito says. “What’s your deal?”
“…Excuse me?” Sasuke replies flatly.
“You’re the broody one, right?” Obito muses. “You’ve got that ‘cool loner with issues’ aura.”
Sasuke’s eye twitches. “You have a death wish.”
“Ah, but can you kill what you can’t touch?”
Sasuke tries.
Obito vanishes and reappears upside down on a tree branch ten feet away.
“Didn’t think so,” he says smugly.
Kakashi finally closes his book with a sigh. “Obito.”
“Yes?”
“They’re twelve.”
“They’re twelve,” Obito agrees solemnly. “And already behind schedule. You’re slacking, Hatake.”
“I’m going to strangle you with your own hat cord.”
Obito simply disappears with a laugh.
The three genin are left blinking at the empty field.
“…Who was that?” Sakura asks.
“Dunno,” Naruto mutters, brushing leaves off his jacket. “But I’m gonna beat him next time.”
Kakashi exhales, putting the book back into his vest, and doesn’t answer.
He is so going to replace all of Obito’s paperwork with the newest edition of Icha Icha.