Sensing Neji's confusion, Kei spoke calmly. "Seems your method was wrong. The dogs you picked weren't nearly as fierce as you imagined, in fact, you could even call them gentle."
"But why?" Neji frowned. "Those dogs had the largest builds, the loudest barks, and were the most active in the cages."
Kei replied, "That's because judging things by appearances alone is never enough. What you needed to see was their nature."
"You didn't grasp that. So naturally, you couldn't pick the fiercest dog."
"Oh yeah? Then why don't you try picking one?" Neji challenged. "Let's see what kind of dog a blind therapist like you thinks is 'fierce.'"
He could accept that Kei was stronger than him. But to imply that even his judgment was worse? That was harder to swallow. Kei couldn't even see. How good could his instincts really be?
"Alright then," Kei said, unbothered. "I'll show you how to choose the fiercest dog."
He didn't take Neji's words to heart. After all these years as a therapist, Kei had grown used to skepticism. If he got upset every time someone doubted him, he would've broken down long ago.
Tapping forward with his blind cane, Kei slowly walked to the rows of dog cages. Unlike Neji's elimination method, Kei's approach was meticulous. He activated his full sensory awareness, sweeping through the room, scanning every dog.
Eventually, he pointed to a medium-sized Border Collie. "That one. Out of all the dogs in the store, it's the most dangerous."
The dog in question sat quietly in its cage. Its ears were perked but relaxed, fur sleek and shiny, with a chestnut coat and patches of white along its chest and tail tip.
It wasn't large. It didn't bark. It hadn't moved an inch since they arrived. It looked, if anything, docile.
"You're serious?" Neji raised an eyebrow. "That one looks way calmer than the ones I picked. That mutt probably doesn't even bite."
Kei didn't argue. He simply approached the cage and reached his hand inside, gently petting the dog's head. The Border Collie didn't react, it sat there silently, not moving or resisting.
Neji crossed his arms and sneered. "Some psychology expert you are."
"I know what you're thinking," Kei replied, still smiling. "You're eager to prove me wrong, to convince yourself that your failure wasn't really a failure. But just wait. Keep watching."
He signaled the shopkeeper to open the cage. The dog didn't even flinch. It stepped out with quiet grace, sat calmly on the floor, and stared up at Kei.
Kei set his blind cane aside and knelt down. He patted the dog's head and chin again. Still no response.
Neji didn't say a word. But he was waiting, waiting for Kei to embarrass himself.
Kei didn't rush. This time, he leaned in closer, pressing his face near the dog's muzzle like he was posing for a photo.
Everything about Kei's posture radiated comfort and trust.
And then,
In a heartbeat, the dog's entire demeanor changed.
Its calm face twisted into a snarl. Its lips peeled back, baring a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. With lightning speed, it lunged straight at Kei's face.
Neither Neji nor Haru had time to react. Haru's breath caught in her throat, a split second from shouting a warning. But by then, it was already too late.
The dog's jaws were inches away from Kei's cheek. If it bit down now, it would tear flesh from bone.
But just as its teeth were about to sink in,
Kei moved.
With precise timing, he sidestepped and clamped a hand firmly on the dog's scruff. The Border Collie thrashed violently, but its fate was sealed. Once its neck was gripped, it couldn't fight back.
Kei returned it to the cage. As soon as the door shut, the dog once again lay down quietly, docile as ever, like nothing had happened.
No one watching could believe it had just tried to maul someone.
"What the hell just happened…?" Neji muttered. "Why did it suddenly attack?"
He couldn't make sense of it. That dog had let Kei touch it several times. It hadn't shown any aggression at all, until that one moment.
Had Kei not been prepared, there was no doubt he would've been seriously injured.
"Because the dogs that really bite," Kei said quietly, "don't bark."
"They don't bare their teeth. They don't snarl or whimper. They act harmless, let you test them, tease them, poke and prod them. But unless they're sure they can kill… they wait."
He walked over to retrieve his cane and added, "And when you finally drop your guard, when your weapon is lowered, when your back is turned… that's when they strike."
"They don't give you a chance to defend yourself. No warning. Just the kill."
"And those loud, blustering dogs you picked? Even if they look fierce, everyone stays alert around them. They're not scary. Because they can be predicted."
Neji was stunned into silence.
Kei had been talking about the dog, yes, but the message was clearly meant for him.
"Neji," Kei said gently, "this is the value of inner strength."
"There's a saying, 'A gentleman hides his sharpness within, and only strikes when the time is right.'"
It wasn't just Neji who heard those words. Haru had remained silent this entire time, observing everything. She understood the double meaning in Kei's lesson.
And Kei had deliberately not excluded her from hearing it. Because this was her final test.
If she understood his point, and aligned herself with it… then she was his, completely.
As Neji quietly digested everything, Kei continued, "Think about it on your own time. But now, let me ask you another question."
"…What is it?" Neji said after a pause.
"Do you know how to raise a dog?"
Neji considered answering instinctively, but stopped himself. After a moment of hesitation, he said, "I'd like to hear your answer."
Kei smiled.
Then, turning toward Haru's direction, he said clearly: [TL: Oh sh*t, emotional damage]
"It's simple. When the dog behaves, you reward it. When it misbehaves, you punish it."
"As long as you do that consistently, you'll raise a dog that obeys without question, one that won't dare bite the hand that feeds it."
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200 P.S = 1 Extra Chapters