Graduation Gift
Shirō quickly activated his Clairvoyance, turning his gaze toward the arena.
Miyue's eyelashes fluttered open, revealing a pair of large, black eyes that gleamed brightly.
"Indeed, black—wait, what? Sharingan? No…" Shirō stopped mid-thought, realizing something was wrong. He looked again carefully, and sure enough—her eyes were completely black, not Sharingan at all.
"…?"
If it wasn't a Sharingan, then why strike such a dramatic pose? In truth, TV dramas from Shirō's previous life had clearly left an impression on him—after all, activating a Sharingan didn't require blinking in the slightest.
Thus, Shirō was the only one startled by the display.
To Okita, however, the scene looked completely different. In his eyes, Shirō's expression was a manifestation of concern for Miyue—his beloved! Okita's earlier conviction was reaffirmed.
In reality, Miyue had only been steadying her breathing, adjusting her mindset before continuing.
The match ended decisively in her favor. Even without activating a dōjutsu, Miyue had undergone rigorous clan training. Her resistance to genjutsu and disciplined taijutsu gave her an edge over her opponent.
Though her bout was over, Shirō and his squad stayed to watch the remaining matches. For the second squad, observing was valuable; each fight was an opportunity to learn. After all, today's graduates would soon become their peers in the field.
Still, Shirō couldn't help but critique. Though the students below were his age, their movements seemed clumsy and rigid to him. Their fighting lacked adaptability, with only rare flashes of creativity.
But he also understood. These academy students had been raised in relative safety, nurtured within the walls of the school. They hadn't faced the pressure he had. Compared to Shirō—let alone someone like Chong Jie—they were far behind.
Since Miyue's match was late in the schedule, the exams wrapped up not long after.
"I'm going to meet a friend later," Shirō said. "Do you two want to come along?"
"No, we have other things to do," Okita and Saori replied in unison.
"I see. Then I'll head off first."
"Mm."
Once Shirō was gone, Okita turned to Saori, eyes shining. "Saori, did you see Big Brother Shirō's expression?"
"Yes. It was… different, but that doesn't prove anything. Didn't you also say last time he was close with that red-haired older sister?"
"That—was just a coincidence! This time is different. Aren't you curious?"
"Hehe… maybe a little. But how do you plan on finding out? Big Brother Shirō's really sharp."
"Don't worry. Isn't there a shop near the academy? We can sneak in and watch from there."
"Alright. Let's go—we'll get there before he does."
Unaware of their scheming, Shirō was already waiting near the academy gates, feeling slightly out of place.
There were almost no children his size in the crowd. He stood out among the families of the graduating students. Most were clan heirs or children of respected ninja, while wealthy commoner families also attended in proper attire. In contrast, Shirō—young, short, and alone—looked unusual.
And because Shirō had once been part of the "forced graduation" system the village used in wartime, his presence was even stranger. Logically, he should have resented today's graduates. Yet here he was, openly celebrating their success.
Many in the crowd cast him curious looks, as though wondering if something was wrong with him.
After a while, a middle-aged woman approached. "Excuse me, little one, do you know why the students haven't come out yet? The exam should be over, right?"
Shirō subtly scanned her attire. No clan crest—likely a wealthy commoner.
He had long since made a habit of memorizing every clan emblem in Konoha. Even if he wasn't afraid of confrontation, it was better to avoid unnecessary trouble.
"They're probably still handling class assignments and registration. They should be out soon," Shirō replied politely.
"Oh, I see. Thank you. By the way, are you waiting for a friend?"
"Yes. She just graduated—and passed."
The woman's face brightened instantly at the word "she." "Ah, I understand. Keep at it, young man." She smiled knowingly before walking away.
"…Huh? Understand what?" Shirō muttered, bewildered. "And what do you mean, keep it up?"
Before he could think more, the gates opened and students began pouring out. Spotting Miyue among them, Shirō stepped forward—only to notice her parents arriving at the same time.
That made things… awkward. From the outside, it looked like he had come specifically to pursue her. But Shirō had already committed, and his conscience was clear.
"Hello, Uncle, Auntie. Miyue, congratulations. This is my graduation gift to you."
"You're Miyue's friend?" her mother asked with a smile.
"Yes. We only met recently, but we're in the same cohort and get along well."
Miyue's father studied him carefully. "You… don't resent it?"
"Resent?" Shirō blinked, then realized he meant the forced graduation system. "Ha, what's there to resent? The world has never been fair—that's why I strive. So that one day, my children might live a little better."
"…An interesting perspective," Miyue's father said, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Alright, that's enough heavy talk! Let's look at Shirō's gift first," Miyue's mother interjected.
Shirō nodded, handing Miyue a scroll. "Here. I haven't tested this thoroughly, so I'm not sure if it'll work for others. It's one of my creations—you'll need to form a contract with it."
"Contract?" Miyue unrolled the scroll, recognizing the design immediately. "Isn't this one of your summoning beasts from that day? This is too valuable. I can't accept this."
"It's fine. It's not a natural summoning—more like a puppet I crafted with a sealing technique, using simple materials. Try contracting it. I want to see if it works."
Miyue's father gave her a subtle nod. "Since it's Shirō-kun's heartfelt gift, you should accept it."
Shirō thought he detected a peculiar look in the man's eyes as he spoke, but let it pass.
Miyue pressed her palm to the scroll, forming the contract seal. A plume of smoke burst forth, revealing the mechanical bird. She gasped. "It worked!"
"Good," Shirō said with relief. "But be careful—it doesn't have much combat power. Its speed in flight is decent, but its takeoff time is long. Not suitable for battle."
"Got it. Does it… have a name?"
"Flying Bird No. 2."
"…"
Miyue, her parents, and even bystanders exchanged strange looks. The boy clearly had talent with his hands, but… what a terrible sense for names.
"What? I think the name's fine," Shirō muttered.