The appearance of Fū and Orochimaru once again disrupted Kei's hard-won peace, and that night his sleep was shallow and restless.
When morning came, the sky mirrored his mood, dark clouds pressing low, the air heavy with the promise of rain.
Kei let out a quiet sigh beneath the covers.
Life doesn't stop just because you wish it would.
With that thought, he rolled over and got up. After dressing neatly, he adjusted his collar with habitual precision. Even as a psychologist, especially as a psychologist, appearance mattered.
The white coat, in particular, carried its own quiet authority. Once worn, it inspired trust almost instinctively. That, too, was a form of psychological suggestion, something that existed across every profession. Of course, uniforms could stir other kinds of emotions as well, though those were private matters and none of his concern.
Leaning on his blind cane, Kei took the narrow path out of the Hyūga compound. The moment he turned onto the old street where his clinic stood, he sensed someone he absolutely did not want to encounter, Uchiha Shisui.
Without hesitation, Kei turned around. He had already decided that today, he would not be opening the clinic.
Unfortunately, Shisui was as persistent as ever. Like a strip of adhesive plaster, he closed the distance in an instant.
"Kei-kun," Shisui said evenly, falling into step beside him. "There are a few things I'd like to ask."
Damn it
Kei could feel him matching his pace stride for stride. With a faint click of his tongue, he said, "I thought you promised to stop troubling me. And since when did we become close enough for you to address me like that?"
Shisui did not answer. He simply continued following, clearly prepared to stay at Kei's side until he received what he wanted.
Unable to shake him, Kei changed direction once more and headed back toward his clinic. Fine. He would open after all, but he had already decided he would do nothing productive today.
He brewed a pot of hot tea and settled into his seat, deliberately ignoring Shisui's presence as though the man were no more significant than a stray draft slipping under the door.
Shisui's patience, however, far exceeded Kei's expectations.
"Hyūga Kei," he began calmly, "orphaned in childhood. A month ago, you fell unconscious and woke blind, having lost the Byakugan. Shortly afterward, you opened a psychological clinic, and because of your exceptional ability, your name has gradually begun to spread…"
"So?" Kei asked lightly, even though Shisui had just recited nearly every major event of his recent life.
"There's one thing I don't understand," Shisui continued. "Before losing your sight, you had no background in psychology. How did you become so proficient in such a short time?"
For a brief moment, Kei's heartbeat skipped.
Outwardly, however, he remained composed. He lifted his teacup and took a slow sip.
"Is it so difficult to believe that I might simply be a genius?"
"A genius?" Shisui's tone suggested he found that unlikely. "Then Kei-kun is truly remarkable."
"Remarkable?" Kei countered smoothly. "Compared to you? You are Shisui of the Body Flicker."
Shisui pressed his lips together and chose not to pursue that thread.
Setting his cup down, Kei spoke more directly. "I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, but you've come to the wrong person. I cannot help you."
"I don't think that's true," Shisui replied at once. "You saw into my heart. That isn't something an ordinary person can do."
"I did not see into your heart," Kei corrected calmly. "Your words, your tone, your emotional shifts, they told me everything I needed to know."
"That doesn't matter," Shisui insisted. "What matters is that you named my fear."
"Shisui," Kei said evenly, "there was no meaning in it. I was guessing."
Even without sight, Kei could feel the intensity of Shisui's gaze. This was not a whim. Shisui had decided on him, and unless Kei gave him something, peace would not return.
Though, in truth, peace had already been disrupted since Shisui's last visit.
After a brief silence, Kei finally said, "I understand your anxiety. But I truly cannot save the Uchiha, and neither can you."
"Why are you so certain?" Shisui's voice sharpened. "The Third Hokage will help the clan."
"And that," Kei replied quietly, "is exactly where the problem lies."
His tone shifted as he continued, "As a shinobi, you should understand one principle: relying on others is never as dependable as relying on yourself. I'm not denying anyone's character or goodwill, but you are too weak."
Shisui's brows drew together. "I don't agree. I'm strong enough, my ninjutsu, my taijutsu, even my eyes… I have the ability."
"Yes," Kei acknowledged. "In many ways, you are nearly perfect."
Then his voice cooled.
"But when it comes to the human heart, you know nothing."
Shisui fell silent.
Kei gave a faint shake of his head. Shisui was indeed an extraordinary shinobi. At this point, he had already awakened the Mangekyō Sharingan, and its ability, Kotoamatsukami, could alter a person's thoughts without their awareness. Few powers were more terrifying.
And yet, despite such strength, he understood little about politics, about power, about how authority concealed itself behind righteous language. The conflict between the Uchiha and the village was not merely emotional; it was a struggle of power and conspiracy wrapped in layers of darkness. And in that darkness, Shisui had chosen to place his trust.
That trust would one day destroy him. When despair and collapse closed in from all sides, he would choose to end his own life.
And after Shisui… there would be Itachi.
Kei took another sip of tea, now slightly cooled, the faint bitterness sliding down his throat. He knew far more than he should, but knowing did not grant him the power, or the desire, to change anything.
He had never been a hot-blooded hero of justice. What he wanted was simple: to regain his health, to reclaim his freedom, and then to live quietly and safely for the rest of his life.
In the end, Shisui left without the answers he sought.
After he was gone, Kei remained standing at the entrance of his clinic for a long time, sensing the oppressive weight of the sky above. The clouds thickened, the air grew heavier, and the coming storm felt inevitable, though no one could say when it would finally pass.
Days slipped by. Kei continued opening his clinic as usual, though Shisui had clearly not given up. Even while sitting inside, he could sense the other man lingering nearby, wandering the surrounding streets as though waiting for an invitation that would never come, or perhaps searching for something else entirely.
Kei ignored him completely.
He would not invite trouble into his own life.
One evening, when the hour grew late, Kei closed the clinic and began walking home. The rain had not ceased for days, and puddles gathered across the streets.
He carried no umbrella, yet not a single drop touched him. Anyone standing close enough would have seen the rain deflecting just short of his body, as though repelled by an invisible barrier. It was a delicate chakra control technique he had honed after losing his sight, misfortune turned into opportunity.
As he stepped out of an alley, a sudden sense of danger tightened around his heart. Instinctively, he raised his cane and struck forward.
Several figures wielding kunai appeared in his perception, yet the cane passed through them like smoke. Illusions.
The phantoms dissolved.
Lowering his cane, Kei tilted his sightless gaze toward the rooftops, his expression darkening.
On the roof ahead stood Shisui, rain soaking his clothes as he looked down in contemplation.
The Kei standing below bore little resemblance to the approachable psychologist of the clinic. The indifference on his face was not one a healer should wear.
Kei inhaled slowly. "Is this how you test your fellow villagers?"
"It was only a probe," Shisui replied. "They were illusions. You wouldn't have been harmed."
Kei let out a quiet, cold laugh. "And? What did you learn? Are you satisfied?"
After a pause, Shisui said, "At least I confirmed that you are still a shinobi."
"I have always been one," Kei replied calmly. "Before losing my sight, I was already a Chūnin. And who decided that a psychologist cannot also be a shinobi?"
Shisui clenched his fists slightly. "I can't win an argument with you."
"That's because I'm speaking the truth," Kei said as he stepped out of the alley. "There's no deception in it."
He walked away into the rain.
Shisui remained where he was for a long time before turning into another alley. Several unconscious figures lay there, drag marks still visible on the wet ground, fresh enough that the rain had not yet erased them. They had been abandoned only moments earlier.
Even in the darkness, their thin, tattered clothing was apparent, and the odor clinging to them, built up over time and neglect, was something even the rain could not wash away.
Shisui stared at them, lost in thought.
Then came the familiar sound of a cane tapping against stone.
"How strange," Kei's voice drifted from behind him, "to see them, isn't it?"
Shisui turned, surprise flashing briefly across his eyes. He had not expected Kei to return.
"What happened to them?" Shisui asked, a trace of accusation in his tone.
Kei shook his head slightly. "They are part of the village too. You simply do not see them."
"That's impossible," Shisui frowned. "The village would not allow its people to fall into such misery."
"I wouldn't know," Kei replied with a small shrug. "I'm not the Hokage."
After a brief pause, he added, "You should visit the orphanages. The places you rarely notice. Walk more. Look more closely."
His voice softened.
"After all, even beneath the light, there are shadows."
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