Kakashi followed the direction Kei's blind cane pointed, spotting two figures hurrying east down the street, the very same pair who had questioned him earlier at the teahouse.
For a moment, Kakashi felt the whole situation was absurd. He couldn't believe anyone would fall for something so ridiculous.
"What, surprised?" Kei asked.
Kakashi pursed his lips and said, "Don't these people have any sense of judgment?"
"You're mistaken. They do," Kei replied calmly. "They're perfectly capable of discerning truth from lies, but they still chose to believe."
"When one person says something improbable, nobody believes it."
"When two people say the same thing, it's still dismissed."
"But when three people, or more, keep saying that same impossible thing... people start to believe."
Before Kakashi could respond, Kei continued, "It wouldn't matter if it was pork delivery or something else. As long as enough people repeat it, someone will believe it."
"And once the first person believes, more and more follow."
"When belief reaches a critical mass, even a falsehood becomes 'truth.'"
He gestured again toward the teahouse entrance. Sure enough, a few more people stepped out and headed toward East Street.
Kakashi's gaze flickered as he watched. This scene, it mirrored a painful memory.
Back then, everyone had condemned his father for abandoning the mission to save his comrades.
At first, the accusers were few. But as time passed, their numbers grew… and grew.
Now, watching shadow after shadow leave the teahouse and walk eastward, Kakashi stood by the roadside, lost in thought.
Kei didn't interrupt. He remained beside Kakashi in silent companionship. At this moment, words weren't necessary. What Kakashi needed was time, to think.
The method Kei had used stemmed from a aphorism: illusory truth effect.
At its core, the idea was a lesson in herd mentality.
When used harmlessly, like claiming pork was being delivered, it posed little danger. But had Kakashi announced a dangerous beast was prowling the streets, panic would've spread like wildfire.
That's the danger: when rumors weaponize conformity.
After about half an hour, Kakashi finally returned to himself. Kei spoke gently, "Alright. That's enough for today. Let's find a place to rest. We'll talk more tomorrow."
"…What exactly are you trying to do?" Kakashi asked.
There was a subtle shift in his tone, no longer calm. And perhaps, a trace of resistance.
"I'm just conducting a few experiments. All you need to do is assist me," Kei said.
Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked toward a nearby inn.
Kakashi clenched his teeth. Then followed.
Nightfall draped the small town in darkness, perfect for sleep. Kei slept soundly.
But Kakashi? He lay wide awake.
Moonlight poured through the window as he stared outside, his mind replaying that absurd lie from the afternoon, over and over again.
When morning came, Kei noticed Kakashi's exhaustion instantly.
With a smile, he asked, "Didn't sleep all night?"
Something about that smile felt mocking.
"I don't sleep well in unfamiliar beds," Kakashi muttered.
"Oh? That's a problem. We'll be changing locations daily from now on," Kei tilted his head, then added with an indifferent tone, "Regardless of how well you sleep, orders are orders. You'd better start adjusting."
Kakashi took a deep breath, reminding himself not to get angry. That would mean losing.
So he said nothing.
Kei wasn't bothered in the slightest by Kakashi's attempt at silent resistance. After all, in front of a seasoned psychologist, silence meant nothing.
Words, facial expressions, body language, even breathing rhythms, could reveal a person's mental state. If an ordinary observer could catch hints from these cues, how much more could a trained therapist?
Yesterday's session had already stirred Kakashi's emotions. Today, Kei intended to deepen those ripples.
Cane in hand, he led Kakashi straight to the town's hospital, more precisely, to the ward for critically ill patients.
Even without using any sensory techniques, the atmosphere there was suffocating: sorrow, helplessness, and despair hung in the air like fog.
Kakashi instinctively slowed his steps, trailing behind. He didn't know what Kei was planning, but he doubted it was anything good.
Suddenly, a desperate voice echoed from a room ahead.
"Doctor, please, I'm begging you, save my child!"
"…I understand how you feel. But this is a hospital. Treatment costs money," came the cold reply.
"I don't have that kind of money…"
The father's pleading continued, but all he got in return was a blunt refusal.
Kei had found what he was looking for.
He led Kakashi straight to that room.
Outside the door, Kei instructed him, "Go in with me. Tell the father you're willing to pay for the treatment, but in exchange, he'll need to work off the debt for you."
Kakashi frowned. "Since when does a psychologist handle a doctor's job?"
Kei shrugged. "Let's just say this is a case of medical empathy."
Kakashi hesitated. He knew there was more to this than met the eye.
But he had already made a promise.
This time, no matter what, he couldn't let Kei have his way again. At least… not completely.
They entered the room together.
Kakashi repeated Kei's prepared lines to the despairing father.
The man clutched Kakashi's hand tightly, tears in his eyes. "Thank you, thank you, shinobi-sama! I'll do anything, anything, if it means saving my child!"
Kakashi fell silent, overwhelmed by the man's gratitude.
But Kei pressed further.
"You realize, once you take this money, you might not see your son again for a long time. Maybe… never again."
The man looked toward the weakly breathing child on the bed. He wiped his tears and said, "If he can live a healthy life, even without me around, it's worth it."
Kakashi's eyes flickered.
Kei continued, "What if he wakes up and hates you for not being there?"
"If he can live peacefully… even if I must die for it, I don't care," the father said without hesitation.
Kei nodded. He took out his wallet and handed over the necessary funds.
Then gestured for Kakashi to leave.
But Kakashi didn't move.
He stood there, watching the man weep with joy… and felt something stirring in his heart.
A storm of emotions.
He said nothing and just… watched.
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200 P.S = 1 Extra Chapters
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