Kids and Acting

--- Managing Director's POV ---

In the realm of theatrical execution, myriad considerations come into play, ranging from the intricate orchestration of lights to direct the audience's gaze, to the strategic adjustments necessary for optimal sound propagation, ensuring even those at the farthest reaches of the auditorium can clearly discern the actors' voices.

The theater space itself plays a pivotal role, designed to facilitate sound distribution without excessive dispersal, allowing every member of the audience an immersive auditory experience.

Yet, above all, the soul of a play resides within its actors. They are the catalysts of emotions and the architects of atmosphere, whose performance can sway the scales between resounding success and catastrophic failure, the ripples of which a company might never fully recover from.

As the Managing Director, I am no stranger to the journey these actors have tread. Having walked in their shoes for a considerable span, their endeavors to impress me often meet an insurmountable bar. However, there have been a few exceptions – that young boy being one of them.

There was something extraordinary about him, an inexplicable tingle in my instincts that even my seasoned experience couldn't ignore.

Though I may be labeled as an "old coot," I was not yet near the end of my days. When my intuition compels me to focus on a particular talent, I take that as a personal interest, rather than the company's, even to the extent of witnessing the play itself.

Interestingly, my fellow "old coots" have also raised inquiries about him, and this shared fascination speaks volumes. There is undoubtedly something remarkably distinct about this young prodigy.

As the curtains gracefully part, revealing the stage before us, my discerning eyes focus on the young actors about to embark on the first scene of the play. They all appear competent, which is expected of them at this level, but one of them captured my attention in a peculiar manner.

That child will surely fail today.

Ah, intriguing. I wonder how he will deal with this.

--- Ren's POV ---

The air was filled with palpable anxiety, a common occurrence among the child actors. Each child displayed varying degrees of nervousness, but it was carefully controlled, allowing them to execute their assigned roles with reasonable ease.

Yet, all eyes were on me, and with good reason.

Unlike the others, I showed no signs of anxiety, a fact that seemed to perplex the onlookers.

They preferred a performer who exhibited a hint of nervousness but managed it skillfully, rather than someone who seemed impervious to any anxiety, as it could imply I was suppressing my true emotions.

However, I had no time for such indulgence. My focus lay solely on delivering my best performance in this play. I refused to entertain their misguided expectations.

After all, I had a greater purpose driving me—to reach heights beyond their limited imagination.

Thus, I shed extraneous layers in my acting. At this moment, I was Hiroto, and the only reality that mattered was the one unfolding on that stage.

As the curtains unfurled, a sea of curious eyes met my gaze, but their presence held no sway over my composure. The scrutiny of the audience didn't ruffle my focus; rather, I embraced it. Their watchful attention was an invitation to etch an indelible memory of this moment into their minds...

---

After a small introduction by a narrator, the first scene began, as rehearsed, with a sense of anticipation permeating the air. The young actors stepped into their roles, each attempting to project the essence of their characters onto the stage. Amid the flurry of excitement, an unnoticed undercurrent began to weave its way through the scene.

"Let's play again!"

My voice carried the intended cheerfulness, but a subtle shift caught my attention. Among the group, one child seemed to struggle, his anxious fidgeting betraying the pressure he felt.

"I-I..."

The stammering voice belonged to Kiba, a figure often at the forefront. His unexpected struggle with a single line puzzled me. The disparity between his usual confidence and this nervous state seemed like a puzzle piece out of place, begging for a solution.

I could only imagine the internal turmoil he must be grappling with. As someone who frequently played the role of a leader, his inability to even deliver this line could feel like a public unraveling of sorts. It was a vulnerability that pierced through his façade.

As an actor, the instinct to respond and adapt kicked in. A decision in a split second, born from a deeper understanding of what was needed to proceed onto the next scene without completely making this play a failure.

Departing from the carefully rehearsed script was a calculated gamble, a leap of faith to offer a lifeline to a fellow actor in the midst of struggle.

"...What are you doing? We're waiting for you!"

The words I uttered were not just a line but a bridge, a gesture meant to gently pull him back into the rhythm of the scene. It was a risk, one I was willing to take, for sometimes the most authentic moments in theater are the unscripted ones.

His response trembled through the air, "Alright."

The faintest of smiles brushed across my lips, not born of amusement but of camaraderie. The tension that had momentarily arrested the scene began to yield, its grip loosening.

How many times did I go through the same worry and anxiety he had, convinced I had blown my cover? After all, I was human as well. There had been times my responses must have made my parents think something was amiss, but I still continued to do my best and act like the fool and innocent child all this time.

Seeing someone else struggle with the same issue brought the faintest relief to me.

"We should go home!"

The words, an on-the-spot creation, interwove with the scene, like a missing piece snapping into place. A collective breath seemed to release its hold as if it was only natural. The staff and all the older actors must have been scared shitless.

The other child actors, momentarily frozen by the unexpected twist, gradually found their footing again. The synergy of the play was restored with a little difference.

I was now considered the leader among them, and even Kiba himself was convinced.

Well, not that I cared.

Still, my improvised lines harmonized the situation, allowing the scene to progress as if it were all part of the script.

This play had to be a success, I could not accept any other outcome.