By the time Kei finished "inspecting" the sanatorium and outlining the necessary modifications for the subterranean ward, the sun had already set. After bidding Haru goodnight, he returned to his own quiet courtyard to continue the grueling, repetitive process of stimulating his optic nerves with the Body Revitalization Jutsu.
He intended to visit the Main House later that evening. He needed to formally report that Shinnō was dead and unable to cure his blindness. The closer he maneuvered toward his ultimate victory, the more meticulously he had to maintain his helpless, loyal facade. He could afford zero mistakes.
However, before he could leave for the Main compound, his sensory web snagged on a small, familiar chakra signature approaching his front gate.
Neji. And the border collie was trotting right beside him.
Even without his eyes, Kei could perfectly perceive their body language. The boy and the dog stood together in the dirt road outside his courtyard, both projecting an aura of tense, reserved caution. Neither of them made a sound.
Kei walked over, unlocked the wooden gate, and swung it open, offering a warm smile. "Please, Neji, come in."
Neji stepped cautiously over the threshold. The border collie, however, took one look at the blind doctor, instantly tucked its tail tightly between its legs, and dropped onto its belly just outside the gate. It absolutely refused to cross the line into the courtyard.
Kei knew the animal was terrified of him. He had, after all, nearly crushed its skull during their last interaction. He ignored the trembling dog and turned his attention to the boy.
"You have come to see me a bit later than I anticipated," Kei noted mildly.
Neji looked up at the doctor's gentle, smiling face. Despite the warmth of the expression, Neji instinctively felt a chill. "I have been carefully studying the principles you taught me," the boy explained quietly. "I was worried I hadn't mastered the lesson well enough, so I delayed my visit."
"You are not the border collie, Neji. There is no need to be so terrified of me." Sensing the boy's rigid tension, Kei's smile softened into something genuinely reassuring. "Do you remember what I told you the day we first spoke? We are family."
Hearing the validation, Neji finally let out a long, shaky sigh. His shoulders dropped a fraction. He had genuinely feared facing the doctor again. During their last session in the pet shop, Neji had realized with terrifying clarity that the smiling, soft-spoken therapist was infinitely more ruthless than the monsters in the Main House.
After a moment of silence, Neji spoke again. "The elders informed me today. You are going to be my official sensei."
"And what are your thoughts on that arrangement?" Kei didn't rush to accept the title. He tilted his head. "You are well aware that I am blind, Neji. I cannot activate the Byakugan, and I likely cannot teach you the advanced physical katas of the Gentle Fist."
"If you desire a physically stronger master, you only need to say the word. I can easily speak with Great Elder Taihiro and have him assign you a Main House elite."
Neji shook his head vehemently, his small face setting into a mask of absolute, adult seriousness. "No. I want you to be my teacher."
"Are you certain? In this clan, once a choice is made, there is very rarely room for regret."
"I am certain," Neji answered without a fraction of hesitation. "I want a master who can teach me how to forge my mind into a weapon. I do not want someone who only teaches me how to throw a punch."
Sensing the absolute, hardened conviction in the boy's voice, Kei nodded in deep satisfaction. His psychological surgery had taken root perfectly.
"I hear the elders whispering that you haven't been complaining about the Main House lately," Kei observed.
Neji nodded. "Because, Sensei, you taught me that a dog preparing to bite does not bark. I understand now that until I possess the absolute power to kill them, I must bide my time."
"During this waiting period, I must sheathe my fangs and ensure they never feel threatened by my existence."
"Excellent," Kei praised softly. "Your comprehension is remarkable. At the very least, you are vastly more intelligent than a certain silver-haired idiot who requires multiple beatings to understand a simple concept."
Neji blinked, momentarily confused. "A silver-haired idiot?"
"You will have the distinct displeasure of meeting him eventually," Kei waved the question away. "However, while you understand the core theory of the lesson, your practical execution is still flawed."
Neji frowned deeply. He quickly reviewed his own behavior over the past few weeks, desperately trying to identify where he had made a tactical error.
After several moments of intense thought, the boy came up blank. He bowed deeply from the waist. "Sensei, please instruct me!"
Kei was genuinely delighted by Neji's submission. The boy was proving to be one of his most receptive patients. The beauty of pediatric psychology was that a child's worldview was still malleable. Once an adult's ideology calcified, breaking it required violent, repeated trauma—like what he had to do to Kakashi. But a child's mind could be molded with a few well-placed words.
"You have successfully learned the border collie's primary survival mechanism," Kei began, pacing slowly across the courtyard. "You understand that hiding your malice and remaining silent buys you the time necessary to grow."
He paused, turning his sightless face back toward the boy. "But if silence is your only tactic, you will starve in the dark. You will never acquire the resources necessary to grow strong."
"Because even if the Main House slowly lowers their guard when you stop complaining, they will never stop watching you. They will always remain fundamentally suspicious of a quiet Branch member."
"Therefore, Neji, you must now master the second survival skill of the domesticated dog."
Neji looked thoughtful, but the concept eluded him. "What is the second skill?"
"It is quite simple to explain," Kei said, "but concepts are often difficult to grasp without proof. Let me demonstrate the result."
Kei turned and walked into his kitchen. He retrieved a single, cooked sausage from the pantry. Walking back out into the courtyard, he stopped a few feet from the gate and beckoned to the terrified border collie still cowering in the dirt.
The dog whined softly. It looked at the sausage, and then looked at the smiling man holding it. It remained completely flat on its belly, shivering, refusing to cross the threshold.
Kei wasn't impatient. He simply pinched off a small piece of the meat and tossed it gently into the dirt, right in front of the dog's nose.
The collie flinched, but the smell of the meat was overpowering. It gently sniffed the sausage, hesitated for a long, agonizing moment, and then quickly snapped it up and swallowed it whole.
Kei pinched off a second piece. This time, he tossed it a few feet closer, forcing the dog to stand up and take a step toward him to reach it.
The dog trembled violently, but the hunger won. It crept forward, snatched the meat, and retreated a half-step.
For the third offering, Kei did not throw the meat. He simply held the piece of sausage flat in his open palm and waited.
The collie hesitated for a very long time. It whined, pacing nervously back and forth. But the overwhelming fear was slowly being eclipsed by the promise of a reward. It began to creep forward, inch by agonizing inch.
And then, the behavioral shift occurred.
The dog's tail was no longer tucked tightly between its legs. It slowly lifted, and began to wag in a slow, sweeping, submissive rhythm. It was actively seeking the man's approval.
Sensing the shift in the animal's posture, Kei lowered his hand slightly, allowing the dog to gently take the meat directly from his palm.
Having consumed the third piece, the dog's terror seemed to evaporate entirely. It sat directly in front of Kei, its tail wagging frantically, its ears pinned back in a pathetic, desperate attempt to curry favor and beg for more.
The fawning, desperate animal sitting in the dirt was entirely unrecognizable from the terrified creature that had been cowering at the gate five minutes ago.
Kei pointed his cane at the begging dog. "Tell me your assessment, Neji. What did you just observe?"
Neji scratched the back of his head, analyzing the interaction. "Sensei... do you mean I need to learn the dog's observational skills? To carefully read the room and determine if the elders are in a generous mood before I approach them?"
"Your logic is sound, but your conclusion is incorrect," Kei chuckled softly, a dark amusement coloring his voice.
Neji fell silent, staring intently at the doctor, waiting for the true answer.
Kei pointed his cane directly at the dog, which had now rolled over onto its back, exposing its soft belly in absolute submission, begging for a belly rub.
"What I mean, Neji," Kei said, his voice dropping into a cold, ruthless whisper, "is that you must learn how to wag your tail."
"Did you not notice the psychological shift? The moment the dog began wagging its tail and acting pathetic, it completely disarmed the tension. It became approachable. But when it was cowering silently at the gate with its tail tucked... even though it wasn't growling or showing its teeth... it still radiated fear and defensiveness. And defensiveness makes the master paranoid."
Neji looked down at his own dog. He remembered how often the collie wagged its tail when they played in his room. It was true; ever since he had brought the animal home and it started fawning over him, he had completely forgotten that it possessed the jaw strength to crush bone.
Neji then thought back to the dog's initial posture at Kei's gate. It hadn't barked. It hadn't growled. But its rigid silence and tucked tail screamed that it was anticipating a fight. It was begging to be kicked.
But now? Now that it was wagging its tail and showing its belly? Anyone walking past would think it was the sweetest, most harmless creature in the world. They would probably bend down to pet it, or offer it a scrap of food.
Neji looked up at his blind teacher, a profound, sickening realization dawning in his eyes. He hadn't expected his second lesson in shinobi warfare to be a literal masterclass in how to act like a submissive pet.
"Learning to hide your hatred and remain silent merely prevents you from being executed," Kei lectured, his voice echoing in the quiet courtyard. "But learning how to smile, how to grovel, and how to wag your tail... that is how you extract resources from your masters. And by hoarding those stolen resources, you forge the blade you will eventually use to cut their throats."
"Neji. Listen to me very carefully," Kei knelt down, bringing his face level with the boy's. "You must never, ever view submission as a stain upon your honor. When our power is insufficient, kissing the boot that steps on your neck is not cowardice. It is the ultimate act of predatory patience. We smile today, so we can slaughter them tomorrow."
Kei stood back up, resting his hands on his cane.
"For your second lesson, Neji, I will give you a piece of ancient wisdom from my homeland."
Kei's voice rang out, cold and unyielding. "'Therefore, when the heavens are about to place a monumental burden upon a man's shoulders, they will first violently break his resolve. They will exhaust his muscles, starve his belly, strip him of all wealth, and ruthlessly sabotage his every endeavor.'"
"'Through this absolute, unyielding torment, the heavens forge his mind into iron, harden his nature into steel, and grant him the terrifying power to achieve the impossible.'"