Two consecutive, humiliating defeats had finally made Shisui hesitant to return to the clinic, a development that pleased Kei immensely. For the first time in weeks, he was afforded a brief period of genuine peace.
Unfortunately, in the shinobi world, peace was always a temporary illusion. Within days, Kei's sensory web snagged on a new, covert presence monitoring him from the shadows.
It was Hatake Kakashi.
The ANBU captain had utilized a flawless Transformation Jutsu to adopt the appearance of an elderly, unassuming vegetable vendor down the street. He maintained a massive operational distance from the clinic, executing a textbook stakeout.
Yet, the very first time Kakashi subtly flared his chakra to probe the clinic's interior, Kei's heightened senses locked onto him instantly.
There was simply no avoiding it; the compensatory enhancement of Kei's sensory perception following his blindness was nothing short of monstrous.
Recognizing Kakashi's signature, Kei made the tactical decision to feign complete ignorance. In his assessment, this surveillance was undoubtedly a direct stress test from the Third Hokage.
It seemed that despite Kei's impassioned, Oscar-worthy recitation of the Will of Fire in the alley, Hiruzen Sarutobi was not entirely convinced of his fanatical loyalty.
If that is the case, Kei thought, casually arranging the pens on his desk, then I will simply let the Hound watch. He was portraying a devoted successor of the Will of Fire; what did a patriot have to fear from the Hokage's gaze?
Truthfully, Kei actually wished Kakashi would abandon the covert surveillance and simply walk through the front door. If the ANBU captain sat on the sofa for a formal consultation, Kei could exploit his psychological trauma and extract a massive System reward.
But Kakashi clearly had no intention of becoming a patient. Believing his disguise to be impenetrable, he remained at his vegetable stand, silently observing.
That evening, the final civilian patient departed, and the clinic's official operating hours drew to a close.
Generally, the likelihood of walk-in patients after dusk was practically zero. However, since Kei had nothing pressing to attend to at his empty home—save for staring at the walls he couldn't see—he always kept the clinic open late into the night.
Consequently, his assigned shadow, Haru, was forced to stand guard until the very last moment.
Today, however, a strange deviation occurred. Just as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting long shadows across the floorboards, Haru abruptly broke her statue-like stillness.
"I have an urgent matter to attend to," she announced abruptly. "I must leave the premises for a short time."
Kei didn't look up from his desk. "If you have business, then see to it."
Haru offered a curt nod, placed the clinic's ledger and pen neatly on the corner of the desk, and walked out without a backward glance.
Kei didn't overthink the sudden departure. Even elite spies occasionally had logistical issues or operational check-ins to manage. He simply settled back into his chair, enjoying the rare solitude.
An hour passed. Just as Kei was considering locking the door and calling it a night, the heavy scent of cheap sake wafted through the open window, accompanied by the erratic, stumbling footsteps of someone approaching the clinic.
Kei automatically expanded his sensory perception to profile the arrival. He paused, intrigued. The chakra signature belonged to a Hyuga. This would be his very first time treating a member of his own clan.
The man's emotional state was chaotic. Even from down the street, Kei could feel the heavy, oppressive wave of frustration and alcohol-fueled sorrow radiating from him. The man's heavy, theatrical sighs echoed clearly in the quiet night air.
Initial profile, Kei deduced instantly. A disillusioned, middle-aged shinobi drowning his grievances in a bottle.
Listening as the man stumbled through the door, the chime ringing sharply, Kei pasted on his customary, warm clinical smile. "Good evening. How may I be of assistance?"
"You're Kei, aren't you?" the man slurred, his voice thick, attempting to force a semblance of sobriety. "I heard you set up a shop down here."
"I am," Kei confirmed gently. He tilted his head, feigning a moment of recognition. "Are you... Uncle Akira? My apologies. Because of my condition, I am forced to identify my family by their voices alone."
"It's fine, boy, it's fine," Akira Hyuga waved a dismissive hand, stumbling toward the sofa and collapsing into it. "I heard the civilians talking. They say you've become some kind of miracle doctor for the mind. So, here I am."
"Is something troubling you, Uncle Akira?" Kei reached across the desk, picking up the ledger and pen Haru had left behind, adopting the posture of an attentive listener.
Akira shook his head heavily, letting out a long, shuddering sigh. "It's been a nightmare, Kei. I've encountered some truly vile things recently, and I just can't shake the anger."
"What specifically is bothering you?" Kei prompted, his voice a soothing balm. "From a psychological standpoint, vocalizing your grievances in a safe environment is an excellent way to vent toxic pressure."
"Don't even get me started on the 'safe environment,'" Akira scoffed bitterly, taking a pull from a small flask hidden in his robes. "I don't know what madness has possessed the Main House lately, but they've been acting like tyrants. They insisted on punishing me..."
Kei listened intently as Akira launched into a rambling, furious tirade.
According to the drunk shinobi, several years ago, he had made a few offhand remarks expressing mild dissatisfaction with the Main House's allocation of resources. This ancient, trivial grievance had allegedly been resurrected during the recent clan crackdown, resulting in his sudden, draconian confinement. Now released, he was suffocating under the injustice of it all.
Logically, this wave of paranoia and punishment within the clan was the direct fallout of Kei's own 'tallest tree' conversation with Taihiro. Therefore, it made perfect sense that collateral victims like Akira would be seeking an outlet for their rage.
But was that the reality of the situation?
Kei's instincts screamed at him to be cautious. He did not survive this long by taking coincidences at face value.
Choosing his words with surgical precision, Kei offered a mild, entirely neutral comfort. "Uncle Akira, you must not let this consume you. Try to look toward the future; there is no hardship that time cannot eventually heal."
"You don't understand, Kei! You're blind to it!" Akira snapped, ignoring the accidental cruelty of his words as he took another aggressive swig of sake. "The Main House has gone entirely too far this time! I made one comment a decade ago. Was it truly necessary to lock me in a cell like a traitor?"
Before Kei could attempt to de-escalate, Akira pressed the attack. "And it isn't just me! Do you have any idea how many innocent Branch members they've disciplined this week? Even young Master Neji was nearly tortured by that one-eyed bastard Taihiro, but thankfully Lord Hiashi intervened!"
Every word out of Akira's mouth was a violent, treasonous condemnation of the Main House. From a psychological perspective, the furious ranting perfectly matched the profile of a wrongfully imprisoned, drunken man.
But as Kei listened to the litany of complaints, his face remained an unreadable mask of placid calm. He absolutely refused to offer a single syllable of agreement or sympathy.
Idly stroking the smooth iron of his cane, Kei abruptly shifted the paradigm. "Uncle Akira, if my memory serves me correctly... your son is Taka, is he not? I heard he is preparing to graduate from the Academy with exceptional marks."
Akira choked on his sake, his tirade grinding to a violent halt. He stared at the blind doctor, clearly derailed by the sudden pivot. "Uh... yes. That's right. How did you know that?"
"I occasionally overhear the aunts and uncles gossiping in the compound," Kei lied smoothly, maintaining his serene smile. "They all speak incredibly highly of Taka's diligence and loyalty."
Checkmate, Kei thought.
While Taka Hyuga was a minor background character in the grand scheme of the shinobi world, Kei knew exactly who he was. In the original timeline, Taka would eventually be assigned as the personal, fanatically loyal bodyguard to Hinata Hyuga, the heiress of the Main House.
For the father of a future Main House zealot to suddenly stumble into Kei's clinic, loudly broadcasting treasonous sentiments and desperately trying to bait Kei into agreeing with him... the reality of the situation was glaringly obvious.
This was not a therapy session. It was a wiretap.
It was a loyalty test orchestrated directly by the Main House.
If Kei had offered even a fraction of sympathy, if he had uttered a single word agreeing that the Main House was tyrannical, Akira would have instantly reported the treason to Taihiro. The Caged Bird Seal would have been activated before midnight.
"That boy is... well, he's a good kid," Akira stammered, attempting to recover his footing and steer the conversation back to the trap. "But what about you, Kei? If you have any grievances about how they've treated you since you lost your eyes, you can tell your uncle. I'll stand with you."
"What grievances could I possibly harbor?" Kei asked, his voice rising in volume, projecting a tone of absolute, bewildered devotion. "Even though the heavens took my sight, the clan has been nothing but endlessly merciful to me!"
Kei leaned forward, his face glowing with manufactured gratitude. "Uncle, you simply do not know the depths of their kindness! The Great Elder himself personally visited me. He provided me with a massive financial stipend to ensure my survival, and promised that the Main House would always protect me!"
Kei tilted his head, his milky eyes 'staring' intently at the shocked older man. "So, Uncle, you truly should not harbor such dark thoughts against our masters. Instead, you should reflect on how you can better serve them. Without the absolute protection of the Main House, where would the Branch be? We would be slaughtered by the other villages for our eyes."
Kei paused, letting the silence hang heavy. "Do you not agree that is the undeniable truth?"
Akira opened his mouth, desperately trying to formulate a response to the fanatical display, but Kei immediately cut him off.
"Uncle Akira, it is growing quite late. You have consumed far too much alcohol, and your mind is clouded with false shadows. You should return home before your family begins to worry about your state."
Looking at Kei's beaming, entirely loyal smile, the hand Akira used to grip the sake bottle trembled violently, spilling the liquor across his knuckles.
"You brat... lecturing your elders now," Akira muttered, his drunken facade cracking entirely. He stood up abruptly, his movements stiff and sober. "Never mind. I am done speaking with you."
Without another word, Akira turned and marched swiftly out of the clinic, vanishing into the night.
As soon as Akira's chakra signature faded completely, the loyal smile melted from Kei's face, replaced by an expression of cold, predatory focus.
If his mind had been clouded by arrogance for even a second, he would have walked right into the guillotine. He had vastly underestimated the depths of Taihiro's paranoia. The Great Elder wasn't satisfied with merely planting a spy; he was actively deploying agents provocateurs to test the waters.
And suddenly, Haru's "urgent business" made perfect, chilling sense.
For Taihiro's honey-trap to be effective, Kei needed to believe he was completely unobserved. Haru had been ordered to vacate the premises specifically to create the false illusion of privacy, encouraging Kei to speak treason freely.
Right on cue, exactly ten minutes after Akira's departure, the clinic door chimed.
Haru walked in, her face an unreadable mask of professional detachment. "I have concluded my tasks, Kei-sama."
"Excellent timing," Kei noted mildly.
Haru moved to her customary position behind his chair, resuming her silent vigil.
Kei stretched his arms over his head, letting out an exaggerated yawn. "Haru, would you be so kind as to brew a pot of tea? Your preparation is always vastly superior to my own."
Haru paused, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at the back of his head, but she complied. She moved to the kitchenette, steeped the tea, and placed the steaming cup silently on his desk. She turned to resume her post.
"Actually, Haru," Kei murmured, his voice lazy and entitled. "I have been experiencing some severe tension in my shoulders today. Be a good assistant and give me a massage."
Haru froze. She took a slow, deep breath, her fists clenching tight enough to turn her knuckles white. "Do not push your luck, Kei-sama," she warned, her voice vibrating with suppressed fury.
"Why are you becoming hostile?" Kei asked, feigning innocent confusion. "Did you not perform these exact domestic duties when you served in the Great Elder's household?"
Haru's breathing grew heavy and ragged. She refused to dignify the insult with a response.
Kei took a slow sip of his tea. "You are merely serving a different master now. Perhaps, if you fail here, the Main House will assign you to serve even more men in the future. Tell me... will you display this exact same insolent attitude when they pass you around?"
"Enough." Haru's voice cracked like a whip, the stoic facade finally, violently shattering. "Do not try your twisted psychological games on me! I see exactly what you are doing, and your sick tricks will not work!"
"I am merely attempting to foster communication," Kei replied smoothly, turning his chair to 'face' her. "As my assistant, an open dialogue is essential for our operational synergy."
"Shut up!"