The next morning came quietly, sunlight slipping through the classroom windows as birds sang outside.
Shanks had just returned from the Hokage's office, a white envelope in hand. The promotion seal glimmered faintly under the light — his official confirmation as a genin.
He couldn't help but smirk a little. It wasn't pride — not exactly. He'd known this was coming. Still, there was something satisfying about seeing it in writing.
When he found Minato in the training yard behind the academy, the blond was sitting under a tree, calmly working on chakra control exercises.
"Yo," Shanks called out, tossing the letter lightly in his hand. "Guess who's officially a genin?"
Minato looked up and smiled. "Congratulations. You deserved it."
Shanks frowned. "You sound way too calm for someone who's supposed to be celebrating with me."
Minato chuckled softly. "I didn't get promoted yet."
Shanks blinked. "What do you mean, 'didn't get promoted yet'? Didn't the old man say we were both graduating early?"
"He did," Minato replied, "but I got summoned for an early graduation test instead. It's scheduled for Friday."
For a moment, Shanks just stared at him — then his expression darkened.
"You're kidding," he said flatly. "They made you take the test? But I get a free pass?"
Minato shrugged lightly. "It's fine. The test itself is basically a formality. I'll pass."
Shanks narrowed his eyes. "That's not the point."
He could feel irritation rising in his chest — not toward Minato, but toward the situation. Minato had worked just as hard as him, maybe harder. He was every bit as capable. Yet here he was, being told to "prove" himself again.
"You know what," Shanks said, turning abruptly toward the exit. "I'll talk to the old man."
"Shanks, wait—" Minato called, but Shanks was already gone.
A few minutes later, Shanks stood in the Hokage's office, glaring across the desk.
Hiruzen looked up from his paperwork, pipe resting in his hand. "Shanks-kun? You seem… agitated."
"Yeah," Shanks said bluntly. "Why didn't you promote Minato directly? He's as good as any genin out there — maybe better."
Hiruzen tilted his head slightly, amused by the boy's directness. "Shanks-kun, unlike you, Minato wasn't recommended by the Anbu Captain, the Jōnin Commander, or myself. And unlike you, he's not from a clan. You are a Sarutobi — you have protection, recognition, and a name that shields you."
"So what?" Shanks shot back, eyes narrowing. "You think Minato cares what people say behind his back? He's not that kind of person."
Hiruzen's expression softened, but his tone remained calm. "You misunderstand. This isn't about Minato's pride. It's about how the village will see him."
He set his pipe down and leaned forward slightly. "If I were to promote him outright, some of the clan families would take offense. They'd see it as favoritism — a no-name boy elevated above their own prodigies. And in Konoha, such things carry weight. Politics can be cruel, even to children."
Shanks' jaw tightened. "Let them talk. If anyone dares mess with him, they'll have to go through me first."
Hiruzen smiled faintly at the fire in his nephew's eyes. "And you'd win, no doubt. But that won't protect him forever. You won't always be there to shield him. What he needs is recognition earned through his own strength — publicly, indisputably. That way, no one can question it."
Shanks frowned, crossing his arms. "So you're saying this test is… what? A safety measure?"
"In a way, yes," Hiruzen replied. "If your friend passes, and I'm certain he will, it becomes his victory. Not mine, not the academy's — his. From there, his reputation will grow, and so will his security. No one will be able to dismiss him as just a lucky civilian."
The room went quiet for a moment.
Finally, Shanks exhaled sharply through his nose. "Fine. So you're saying this is the best way for him?"
"Yes," Hiruzen said simply.
Shanks smirked faintly. "Alright then, have it your way."
With that, he turned and left, cape fluttering slightly as the door closed behind him.
Hiruzen leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Just like his father," he muttered, half amused, half weary.
Later that day, Shanks met up with Minato again near the training field.
Minato looked up as he approached. "So? What happened?"
Shanks stuffed his hands in his pockets. "The old man explained. Apparently, it's better this way. Something about politics, names, and people talking too much."
Minato tilted his head. "I see. That makes sense."
"Of course it makes sense," Shanks said, clearly still annoyed. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."
Minato chuckled quietly. "You're taking this more seriously than I am."
"Yeah, well…" Shanks rubbed the back of his neck. "Guess it just pisses me off seeing talent like yours treated like it's something that needs to be proven."
He looked away for a second, then smirked. "Anyway, since you've got a test, we might as well make the most of it."
Minato blinked. "What do you mean?"
"I've got a plan," Shanks said, eyes gleaming slightly. "First, when you take that test — go all out. I mean it. Don't hold back, don't play nice. Show them exactly what you can do."
Minato frowned. "All out? Isn't that a bit much?"
"Not for this," Shanks replied. "You're probably going to face a seasoned genin during the evaluation — maybe even a chūnin examiner. Either way, I want you to crush them. Effortlessly. Don't show a single hint of struggle. Let them see the gap."
Minato hesitated, still confused. "And… why?"
Shanks grinned. "Just trust me. Do what I say, and you won't regret it."
With that, he turned to leave.
"Wait— where are you going now?" Minato asked.
Shanks waved over his shoulder. "To make sure your test is worth something."
And just like that, he vanished.
Moments later, Shanks reappeared in front of the Anbu building, expression sharp and determined.
He stepped forward, calling out calmly — but firmly.
"Uncle Sakumo," he said. "I need a favor."
To be continued…