The Assessment
After Shirō and the others had talked things through, he asked,
"So, when is Okita's exam? I need to prepare a good gift for him."
"There's no need for that, Shirō. You've already taught that kid plenty," came the reply.
"That's right, Shirō, listen to your uncle. No need to send anything. That child isn't lacking."
"It's fine. This is different. A graduation gift still needs to be meaningful—it's a once-in-a-lifetime event."
"Exactly," another chimed in. "We can't help Okita with the exam itself, but Shirō can still give him something special. This matter is settled."
Keiko then turned to Shirō and said,
"Then this task is entrusted to you. The graduation exam is in a week, so you should have plenty of time."
"Understood, Mom. Don't worry—I'll make sure it's useful for them. Tsk, I'd better get to work now."
"Don't stay up too late," Keiko called after retreating back.
"Got it," Shirō waved as he headed toward the laboratory.
Nanako frowned. "Keiko, this…"
"Alright, it's settled," Keiko cut her off, already turning back to discuss other gift ideas.
Nanako sighed helplessly. She knew Keiko too well—once she decided on something, there was no changing her mind.
Qieshi and Ci Lang simply exchanged glances and quietly drank their tea, unwilling to get involved.
---
Meanwhile, Shirō stepped into the small laboratory he had built in the backyard.
It wasn't a true Magic Workshop—at best, it barely qualified. Most of the time, he used it to assemble puppets. Research and testing he reserved for the wilderness. In this cramped space, one wrong move could blow everything up. In fact, it already had—several times.
Without a proper workshop, there was no way to preserve data from failures. He could only guess at causes afterward. Still, for simple projects and puppet crafting, it sufficed.
Now, he was here to prepare Okita's graduation gift.
Shirō had long since gathered materials for making puppets tailored to Okita and the others, but he'd delayed until his skills improved. He wanted these to be more than mere trinkets.
Unlike Minato, who often handed out Flying Thunder God kunai to allies, Shirō's gifts weren't mass-produced tools. Each puppet was built individually, adjusted to the recipient's chakra nature, and imbued with personal thought.
Okita's would be Wind Release–compatible, while Saori's would align with Fire Release. It wasn't a huge difference—just adjustments in certain parts—but it made each puppet unique.
If his abilities were greater, he would have crafted something grander—like the "Gundams" of his imagination—but for now, this was his limit. Even so, he refused to take shortcuts. Assembly-line puppets lacked soul. Gifts required care, ceremony, and meaning.
Thanks to his improving craftsmanship, a week was more than enough. It wouldn't even delay his training—or his little "sparring tests" against Kakashi.
Whenever he fought using only Eight Extremities Fist, Kakashi was utterly helpless, unable to resist at all.
---
That week, aside from cultivation and puppet-making, Shirō also continued to experience the strange recurring dream.
"Beep… beep…"
The sound echoed again, dragging him into a hazy chase. No matter how many times it repeated, he never realized what he was chasing. Each time the sound faded, he woke up confused.
But this time, something felt wrong. Ever since he learned meditation, dreams had become rare. This frequency was abnormal. Thinking carefully, he realized it had started after he returned from the Land of Demons. He had ignored it at first, but now the recurrence was too obvious.
Still, with his limited magical knowledge, he couldn't analyze whether there was danger hidden in the dream. So he chose the clumsy method—using meditation to forcibly sever the dream.
Fortunately, his meditation was strong. From then on, he no longer dreamed. Or perhaps, he thought grimly, the dream had simply changed—upgrading in a way he couldn't even remember.
---
A week passed in a flash.
On the day of the Academy graduation exam, Shirō and the others waited outside the school. Unlike Miyue's class, Okita's exam wasn't too complicated.
There were three parts:
1. Written Test – simple, basic knowledge every Academy student should know.
2. Ninjutsu Assessment – demonstrating basic techniques. Even the Transformation or Substitution Technique was enough to pass.
3. Combat Evaluation – a spar against an instructor. Gaining the teacher's recognition meant graduation, even if the first two parts were weak.
The overall score determined class placement, which usually mattered greatly for a student's future.
But for Okita and the other elite-class students, their path had already been set. Hiruzen Sarutobi himself had designated their special placement, based on years of observation and performance, not just the graduation test.
So while ordinary families waited nervously, Shirō remained calm. He knew Okita's true ability better than anyone. With his strength, Okita could have graduated long ago. The only reason he stayed in the Academy this long was because Shirō had advised him to deepen his foundation.
The boy was more than ready.
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