Walking out of the Hokage Tower, Kei let the cool evening air wash over him as he dissected his conversation with Hiruzen Sarutobi.
Promoting him to Special Jonin was a calculated, political maneuver designed to secure his absolute loyalty. Assigning him to psychoanalyze Mitarashi Anko was the follow-up stress test, a trial to determine if his psychiatric skills were truly potent enough to mend the village's elite assets.
But the most fascinating data point was the Hokage's seemingly casual, hypothetical question regarding hemophobia.
Of course there were clinical methodologies to cure an irrational fear of blood. That wasn't the issue. The critical detail was that Hiruzen had asked about the cure, but deliberately refrained from officially assigning Kei to track down and treat the patient.
The patient in question was undeniably Tsunade Senju.
Hiruzen was desperately searching for a way to heal the last remaining Sannin, but he was hesitating to pull the trigger. Kei understood the old man's dilemma perfectly. If Kei didn't intervene, when exactly would Tsunade manage to conquer her trauma on her own? And if she remained crippled by fear and drowning in unresolved grief, she would never agree to return to Konoha.
It was a delicious, intoxicating realization. Kei currently possessed the theoretical key to bringing the legendary slug princess back to the village, yet he had absolutely zero intention of doing so until the political landscape favored him.
But the Tsunade variable was a long-term project. For now, he simply needed to play his assigned role and let time do the heavy lifting.
Kei easily tracked Anko's chakra signature. He found her standing alone on the flat rooftop of a building directly across the street from Orochimaru's sprawling, now heavily barricaded estate.
She stood perfectly still, her eyes locked onto the sealed doors of her master's home. Even from a distance, Kei could feel the heavy, suffocating aura of confusion, betrayal, and profound grief radiating from her.
With a silent, effortless leap, Kei cleared the gap between the buildings and landed softly on the rooftop directly behind her. He didn't speak immediately. He simply stood in the quiet night, allowing his presence to register.
Sensing the arrival of another shinobi, Anko threw a sharp, hostile glare over her shoulder. Seeing the blind doctor, she scoffed quietly and turned her attention back to the empty street, completely ignoring him.
Kei stepped forward, holding out a small, paper-wrapped box he had purchased on the way over. He offered his trademark, gentle smile. "I have always found that when the world feels particularly heavy, a skewer of premium dango can help lighten the load."
Anko glanced at the sweet treats. Under any normal circumstance, she would have snatched the box without a second thought. But tonight, her stomach felt like it was filled with lead. She had absolutely no appetite.
"I don't need your charity, doctor," Anko said, her voice rough and dismissive. "Leave me alone."
It was textbook avoidance behavior—the most common, instinctive psychological defense mechanism against overwhelming trauma. Kei was infinitely patient.
"You do not need to punish yourself like this, Anko. What happened was not your fault."
"I told you, I don't need a shrink," Anko snapped, her shoulders tensing. "And when have I ever punished myself?"
"You are standing on a freezing roof, staring at a ghost town, refusing food, and isolating yourself in your grief," Kei pointed out mildly. "Is that not the definition of self-inflicted cruelty?"
Anko scowled, clearly irritated by his relentless, calm persistence. "This is my personal business. It has absolutely nothing to do with you. And do not think for a second that just because you read a few books on the human mind, you have any idea what I am going through right now."
"You are entirely correct. As a clinical psychiatrist, I cannot fully comprehend the depth of your personal agony," Kei agreed, gently shaking his head. He took a slow step closer, lowering his voice. "But... speaking from the perspective of my other identity, I understand perfectly."
Anko stiffened. She turned to fully face the blind man, her eyes narrowing as she processed the implication. She had forgotten.
After a long, tense silence, Anko spoke. "So... you didn't come here as a doctor. You came here to speak to me as his former student."
"Are we not kindred spirits forged in the exact same misfortune?" Kei smiled warmly, offering the box of dango a second time. "While it is true that my tenure under Lord Orochimaru was brief, and I never held the favored position in his heart that you did... my respect and admiration for our Sensei were no less profound."
Anko stared at the box. Finally, with a heavy sigh, she reached out and took the sweets. But she didn't open the wrapper. She just held it tightly.
"Then tell me," Anko demanded, her voice cracking slightly with raw emotion. "Why do you think he changed into that monster? He was never like that before. I know he was always cold, and obsessed with his research, but he..."
Kei understood the psychological architecture of her grief flawlessly. For Anko, Orochimaru was vastly more than just a military instructor. He was the absolute center of her world.
Anko had been assigned to Orochimaru's squad when she was a young, highly impressionable child. In the field of developmental psychology, it is a proven phenomenon that a child will naturally project the role of a surrogate parent onto a dominant, continuous authority figure. Over the years of grueling training and shared survival, Orochimaru had seamlessly filled the emotional void of a father in Anko's heart.
Therefore, Orochimaru's descent into madness and his violent defection wasn't just a military treason to Anko. It was the agonizing, incomprehensible reality of a beloved father suddenly transforming into a butcher and abandoning his daughter.
"I cannot provide a definitive answer to that question, Anko," Kei said softly. "I am not Orochimaru. I cannot map the darkness that consumed his mind. However..."
"However what?" she pressed, desperate for any fragment of understanding.
"However, in the days immediately prior to his defection... he actually sought me out in secret," Kei revealed, dropping a massive, highly calculated lie. "He offered me a place by his side. He asked me to abandon Konoha and leave with him."
Anko's eyes went wide with shock. "He asked you? And... you obviously refused, since you are standing here."
"I refused him," Kei confirmed smoothly. "And my refusal was absolute."
Anko took a deep, shaky breath, her mind reeling from the revelation. "Why did you say no?"
"Because, while he was my Sensei, our fundamental ideologies were violently incompatible," Kei recited flawlessly. "As the ancient proverb dictates: 'When two men walk different paths, they cannot plan their futures together.'"
Anko silently chewed on the proverb, staring intensely at the doctor's bandaged face, trying to find a crack in his serene composure. She found nothing.
"Anko, you truly do not need to let this paralyze you," Kei continued, his tone shifting into a soothing, authoritative cadence. "Because in reality, the dynamic between you and Orochimaru, and the dynamic between myself and Orochimaru, are not drastically different."
"The paths we all ultimately chose to walk simply diverged. And when paths diverge, even the closest of family members eventually become strangers."
"What exactly are you trying to imply?" Anko's grief suddenly flared into defensive anger. "What does walking different paths have to do with the fact that he butchered our own people?! If you came here to spout poetic nonsense and tell me to 'get over it,' you can save your breath. He is no longer my Sensei. I have severed all ties with him."
"If you had truly severed all emotional ties, Anko, you would not be standing on this roof," Kei countered smoothly, raising his cane and pointing it directly at Orochimaru's dark estate. "Your presence here is the absolute, undeniable proof that your heart is still chained to him. The tragedy is that you are punishing yourself for a betrayal you did not commit."
Anko felt a sharp, throbbing ache building behind her eyes. This blind doctor was infuriatingly difficult to argue with. Before she even realized what was happening, he had cornered her, forcing her to confront the agonizing contradictions she had been desperately trying to ignore.
She knew she was running from the truth. But what else could she do? Almost overnight, the man who had raised her, the hero she worshipped, had been unmasked as a mass murderer. She had desperately wanted to track him down, to scream at him, to demand to know why... but he had vanished into the night.
"Just leave me alone, Kei," Anko whispered, the fight suddenly draining out of her. "I don't need your psychoanalysis. Even if we shared the same master, we are entirely different people."
"Are we?" Kei tilted his head, a microscopic, challenging smile playing on his lips. "If you truly believe that, allow me to ask you a single question. Your answer will prove my point."
Anko didn't want to engage further, but the raw confidence in his voice hooked her curiosity. She truly wanted to know why he believed they were the same. After all, Kei had only served under Orochimaru for a single year as a fresh Academy graduate. Anko had practically lived in his shadow for a decade. Orochimaru had personally carved his jutsu into her muscle memory. Their bonds were completely different.
"What is the question?" Anko muttered.
"If Orochimaru had extended the same invitation to you before he fled... if he had asked you to abandon the village and walk into the darkness with him... what would you have chosen?"
Kei knew the horrific, canonical truth. Orochimaru had asked her. And when Anko had tearfully refused, the Sannin had brutally wiped her memory of the exchange, sealing away the trauma. Currently, Anko believed her master had simply abandoned her without a word.
Anko froze, forced to seriously consider the hypothetical scenario. She thought of the horrific human experimentation, the butchered bodies of her fellow villagers.
"I... I would have refused him," Anko stated, her voice hardening with absolute certainty. "I could never condone the atrocities he committed."
"Do you see?" Kei took a slow step closer, closing the physical distance between them. "When faced with the ultimate moral crossroads, you made the exact same choice I did. Does that not definitively prove we share the exact same core values?"
"The only structural difference between us," Kei whispered, "is that I accepted his departure and moved forward. You have allowed his ghost to trap you in a dead end."
Anko instinctively took a step back, overwhelmed by the sudden, piercing clarity of his logic. "That is only because my emotional investment in him was vastly deeper than yours."
"The depth of an emotional investment does not change the objective reality of the return," Kei lectured smoothly. "If you are willing to simply shift your perspective, to view the trauma from a slightly different angle, you will find the exit to your dead end."
Anko stared at the blind doctor. She took a deep, shuddering breath. "What perspective?"
Having successfully baited the hook, Kei didn't rush to reel her in. "These complex psychological principles are incredibly difficult to articulate while standing on a freezing roof. Why don't you join me for a walk tomorrow?"
Anko hesitated, chewing on her lower lip.
"You have no active missions, and dwelling in the shadows of this empty house will not bring him back," Kei pointed out ruthlessly. "He cannot see your grief, Anko. And even if he could, he likely wouldn't care. Why not give my methods a chance? Give yourself a chance to breathe again."
Anko felt a sudden, desperate urge to escape the suffocating weight in her chest. "Fine," she relented. "I will walk with you tomorrow."
"But I am warning you," she added, pointing a sharp finger at his chest. "If this 'shift in perspective' doesn't actually help... do not ever bother me again."
"We have an agreement," Kei smiled warmly, turning to leave. "I will prepare the necessary arrangements. I shall see you in the morning."
"Oh, and Anko?" Kei called over his shoulder before he leapt off the roof. "Eat the dango before it gets cold. It ruins the texture."
With a blur of motion, the doctor was gone.
Anko stood alone on the rooftop, staring once more at the dark silhouette of her master's estate. The house held too many memories. Even now, she still couldn't entirely process the reality that the man who had taught her how to survive had become a monster.
Letting out a long, exhausted sigh, Anko tore open the paper wrapper and took a vicious bite of the sweet dango.
But as she chewed, a sudden, highly irritating realization dawned on her. She had been flawlessly manipulated.
She had been absolutely determined to reject the doctor's help. So how the hell had he managed to secure her agreement for a therapy session after only five minutes of conversation? Looking down at the half-eaten skewer in her hand, she groaned. It was too late. She had eaten his bribe; she couldn't back out of the deal now.
Furious at herself for falling for the trap, Anko shoved the rest of the dango into her mouth, chewing aggressively, using the sugar to vent her immense frustration.