Orochimaru's defection and his subsequent atrocities were officially announced the following day, plunging Konoha into a state of absolute uproar.
Human experimentation was the ultimate taboo. It was a line strictly forbidden by every hidden village, an unforgivable violation of the laws of nature and shinobi ethics. But to learn that one of their own legendary heroes had been systematically harvesting Konoha citizens from the streets? The outrage was seismic.
Facing a furious, terrified populace, Hiruzen Sarutobi immediately convened a village-wide assembly. Standing upon the Hokage Monument's roof overlooking the masses, the Third Hokage bowed his head, formally apologizing for his lax oversight.
"For Orochimaru to commit such unspeakable acts... I, as your Hokage, bear the undeniable responsibility," Hiruzen's voice projected over the crowd, thick with sorrow. "I have failed the trust you placed in me, and I have failed the victims who perished in the dark."
The crowd murmured, the anger beginning to waver in the face of the old man's apparent grief.
"From this day forward, Orochimaru is designated an S-rank missing-nin, carrying the highest bounty in the bingo book. I swear to you all: I will lead this village to capture him, and we will bring absolute justice to the fallen."
Anchored by a heartfelt, emotionally devastating apology, the somewhat hunched figure of the Third Hokage successfully quelled the raging fire of the villagers' anger.
In fact, the manipulation was so flawless that several prominent civilian leaders actually began to shout words of comfort to the Hokage, begging him not to shoulder the blame alone.
"Please, hold fast to your faith in the village!" Hiruzen called out, his voice ringing with renewed conviction. "Believe in our Will of Fire! Wherever tree leaves dance, one shall find flames..."
Ultimately, intoxicated by the romanticized ideals of the Will of Fire, the assembly concluded. The villagers dispersed peacefully under the watchful guidance of the ANBU.
A catastrophic crisis of faith had been seamlessly, masterfully neutralized by the Third Hokage.
Time marched relentlessly onward. Half a month slipped away in the blink of an eye.
Initially, the streets buzzed with nothing but Orochimaru's name. Civilians and shinobi alike speculated feverishly on when the traitor would be dragged back in chains. But as the days bled into weeks, the fervor naturally decayed. The sensationalism faded like snow melting in the spring sun.
Life, as it always does, demanded to continue. The daily grind of survival and commerce reasserted itself, and the missing Sannin became little more than a ghost story.
Inside the quiet walls of his psychological clinic, Kei Hyuga was as busy as ever. He had anticipated this exact societal reaction. News cycles were predictable beasts: they exploded into a blinding inferno upon ignition, only to burn themselves out and vanish into ash days later.
Late that afternoon, as the setting sun cast long, golden shadows across the floorboards, the steady stream of patients finally ceased. Kei stretched his arms overhead, relishing the brief respite.
Before he could even ask, a steaming cup of freshly brewed tea was gently placed on the corner of his desk.
"Thank you for your hard work today, Haru," Kei murmured, his voice smooth.
Ever since the orchestrated near-death encounter with Orochimaru, Haru's demeanor had undergone a profound, microscopic shift. The most glaring evidence of this change was her newfound anticipation of his needs. He no longer had to issue a command; Haru would simply prepare his tea at the precise optimal moment.
To an outside observer, it appeared to be a trivial adjustment in domestic routine. But to a clinical psychologist, it was a monumental victory.
It represented the successful rooting of subconscious psychological suggestion. As long as Kei continued to apply the correct pressure, this foundational conditioning would eventually bloom into absolute, unwavering loyalty.
In the clinical realm, this phenomenon was a textbook application of Pavlovian conditioning. Taken to its darkest, most extreme theoretical conclusions, it could be weaponized to forge a mind completely subservient to a 'master.'
Of course, Kei considered himself a distinguished, righteous professor of the mind. He naturally possessed no desire to engage in such perverse, cartoonish villainy. His objective regarding Haru was purely pragmatic: he needed the Main House's spy to defect to his side.
And it seemed that day was rapidly approaching. When the psychological tether was fully secured, he would officially launch his counter-offensive against Taihiro and the Caged Bird Seal.
Hearing his gratitude, Haru stepped back, her posture rigidly formal. "Do not misunderstand, Kei-sama. I am simply executing Lord Taihiro's orders to facilitate your operations."
"Do not worry, Haru. I would never misunderstand your devotion," Kei replied noncommittally, taking a slow sip of the tea.
Haru offered no further rebuttal. She retreated to her chair in the corner of the room, clearly unwilling to engage in further verbal sparring.
Just as Kei set his cup down, his sensory web flared. Two distinct chakra signatures were approaching the clinic's front door.
One was intensely familiar: Shisui Uchiha, whom Kei had not seen since the night of the failed raid half a month ago.
The second signature was entirely new, yet it carried an identical, icy density unique to the Uchiha bloodline. It was a cold, calculating pressure that felt like a blade resting against the throat.
Kei instantly deduced the newcomer's identity. Itachi Uchiha.
The legendary prodigy. The fool who, much like Shisui, had allowed his mind to be entirely consumed by the Hokage's Will of Fire. In Kei's clinical assessment, Itachi's pathology was infinitely more severe than Shisui's. This was the boy who would eventually slaughter his own parents and exterminate his entire lineage just to spare his younger brother.
The door chime rang.
Refusing to deploy his customary, welcoming smile, Kei calmly lifted his teacup and took another sip, utterly ignoring the two elite shinobi as they stepped into the room.
Shisui immediately registered the blatant hostility etched onto the blind doctor's face. It was exactly the reception he had anticipated. He gestured for Itachi to sit in one of the patient chairs before taking a seat himself.
"I admit my failure," Shisui began, his voice devoid of its usual arrogant hum. "I was entirely mistaken. I should not have solidified my judgment of you based on superficial prejudice."
"It took you half a month to cultivate a shred of basic self-awareness," Kei noted drily, not bothering to turn his head.
Shisui absorbed the mockery without flinching. "I have spent this entire time seriously contemplating the reality you told me to observe."
Kei shook his head slowly. "If you came here to claim that you have finally seen through the rotting essence of this village... save your breath."
"Why?" Shisui asked, his brow furrowing. "You explicitly ordered me to dissect the truth."
"I explained the parameters to you a long time ago, Commander," Kei said, finally setting his teacup down with a sharp clack. "I cannot save you. Only you can save yourself."
Kei folded his hands on the desk. "If you had truly achieved clarity, you would not be sitting in my clinic right now. With your intellect and power, you would already be actively dismantling the problem. I have absolutely no doubt about that."
"Conversely," Kei continued, his voice dropping into a lethal chill, "if you still have not understood the truth... then you also have no business sitting in my chair. Because it is utterly pointless. Your tragic fate is already sealed. I have no doubt about that, either."
Shisui fell silent, the weight of the assessment bearing down on him. "In your professional opinion, then... do you lean toward me having achieved clarity, or remaining blind?"
"Without a shadow of a doubt, you remain entirely blind."
Kei didn't even need to ask. He knew, with absolute certainty, that Shisui had failed to internalize the lesson of the Orochimaru cover-up.
The proof was sitting right next to him.
Though Itachi had not spoken a single word since entering the clinic, Kei's heightened empathy could vividly feel the intense, suffocating suspicion radiating from the younger Uchiha. Itachi's hostility was identical to the paranoid prejudice Shisui had harbored weeks ago.
"I should not have held out any hope for your rehabilitation," Kei sighed, lacing his tone with profound disappointment. "That was a terrible miscalculation on my part. But fortunately, failure is an excellent teacher."
Kei picked up his pen, signaling the end of the session. "I realize now that further dialogue between us is a waste of oxygen. At least, for the time being."
"And when, exactly, will it become meaningful?" Shisui asked, a note of desperate frustration cracking his composure.
Kei tilted his head slightly, 'looking' directly at the silent prodigy sitting beside Shisui. "Very soon, I imagine."
"Let us leave, Shisui-niisan," Itachi finally spoke. His voice was smooth, cold, and entirely devoid of childishness. "This man is a charlatan. He is merely spouting disjointed nonsense to manipulate you."
For the past two weeks, Itachi had listened to Shisui obsessively analyze the words of this obscure, blind psychologist. Concerned for his mentor's mental state, Itachi had specifically requested to accompany Shisui today, intending to evaluate the doctor's threat level.
What he found was a man speaking in vague, pretentious riddles. Itachi concluded that Kei was a dangerous fraud, and that Shisui needed to sever contact immediately before the charlatan compromised his judgment further.
Hearing Itachi's blunt dismissal, Shisui looked at Kei, his expression caught between defensive loyalty and lingering hesitation. He had genuinely come here seeking guidance, but Kei's impenetrable hostility left him no tactical opening to continue the dialogue.
With a heavy, silent sigh, Shisui rose to his feet and followed Itachi toward the door.
Hearing the younger Uchiha's arrogant assessment, Kei merely shrugged. But just as Itachi's hand touched the doorknob, Kei's voice cut through the quiet clinic like a blade.
"Tell me, Shisui. Are you familiar with the nature of weasels?"
Itachi froze.
"They are fascinating creatures," Kei murmured, his voice echoing with a dark, prophetic weight. "They possess a truly abhorrent biological quirk. Once a weasel enters its killing state... its predatory instinct overrides all logic. It will indiscriminately slaughter everything it sees, regardless of necessity."
At the sound of the word weasel—the literal translation of his own name—Itachi slowly turned around. He leveled a glare of absolute, glacial fury at the blind doctor. He was a genius; the thinly veiled, horrific accusation was impossible to miss. His already abysmal impression of Kei instantly plummeted into open hostility.
Sensing the explosive spike of killing intent radiating from the younger boy, Kei chuckled inwardly.
Alienating Itachi with a single, highly inflammatory psychological strike was a phenomenal tactical trade. He was already exhausted trying to untangle Shisui's mess; he absolutely refused to take on a second, vastly more diseased Uchiha zealot as a patient.