Having successfully utilized a display of overwhelming physical dominance to bypass Neji's psychological armor, Kei returned home, thoroughly satisfied with the afternoon's progress.
That evening, he did not bother initiating a formal mental simulation of the young prodigy.
Unlike the labyrinthine, suffocating complexities of Hatake Kakashi's trauma, Neji Hyuga's pathology was brutally simple. It was a straight, unbending line of hatred directed entirely at the Main House, fueled by the sacrificial murder of his father and the agonizing reality of the Caged Bird Seal.
Great Elder Taihiro had explicitly commanded Kei to 'counsel' the boy, aiming to eliminate this treasonous resentment. Kei had smiled and accepted the mission, but he had absolutely no intention of brainwashing Neji into loving his oppressors.
His clinical objective was vastly more pragmatic. He was not going to teach Neji how to forgive the Main House. He was going to teach the boy how to become invisible to them. He was going to teach him the art of the perfect, lethal lie.
The following morning, Kei woke early. The spring air was crisp and clear, and his mood was exceptionally light. He dressed methodically, gathered his cane, and stepped out into the courtyard.
Haru was already waiting by the gate, standing with her customary, perfect posture. Beside her stood Neji.
Expanding his sensory web, Kei immediately noted the erratic, exhausted frequency of the boy's chakra. Neji's pulse was slightly elevated, and his breathing was shallow. Much like Kakashi after their first encounter, the prodigy had clearly spent the entire night agonizing over the cognitive dissonance Kei had inflicted upon him.
Hearing the rhythmic tap of the doctor's cane, Neji turned his head. "Where exactly are you taking me?" he demanded, his tone clipped and defensive. "I still have my afternoon training quota to complete."
"Neji, relentlessly punishing your physical form is certainly one avenue to accumulating power, but your existence cannot be defined exclusively by striking a wooden post," Kei replied smoothly, raising a hand in a calming gesture. "A sharp blade requires occasional rest to maintain its edge. Therefore, for today's clinical excursion... I am going to take you to buy a dog."
"Buy a dog?" Neji blinked, completely derailed by the absurdity of the statement. He had braced himself for a grueling psychological interrogation or a forced march to a hidden training ground.
Standing behind them, Haru's brow furrowed slightly. However, having shadowed the doctor for months, she had learned that Kei's operational logic was often deeply unconventional. He possessed a terrifying talent for weaponizing the most mundane, seemingly irrelevant aspects of civilian life to execute his psychological surgeries.
"Precisely. A dog," Kei smiled warmly, stepping past the gates and gesturing for them to follow. "As the civilian proverb dictates, they are humanity's most loyal companions."
"I am already regretting my decision to humor you," Neji muttered, shaking his head as he fell into step beside the doctor. "If you are attempting to procure a ninken for combat utility, you are wasting your time. The Inuzuka clan holds a complete monopoly on combat-grade hounds. Do you possess the political capital to requisition one of their pups?"
"You are over-analyzing the parameters," Kei chuckled softly. "I have no need for a ninken. We are simply purchasing a civilian pet."
Neji clamped his mouth shut, utterly speechless. He desperately wanted to demand how a domesticated, useless civilian animal could possibly aid his quest to overthrow the Main House. But the phantom sensation of Kei's finger resting against his Caged Bird Seal silenced his protests. He had lost the wager; he was bound to follow the doctor's arrangements for the day.
However, Neji made a silent vow: if Kei failed to provide a flawless, tactical justification for this humiliating waste of time by the end of the excursion, Neji would permanently sever all contact with the eccentric psychologist.
Sensing the boy's simmering frustration, Kei paid it no mind. He casually led the two Hyuga out of the clan compound and toward the bustling, commercial heart of Konoha.
While the Hidden Leaf was a military dictatorship, the vast majority of its population consisted of ordinary civilians. Therefore, nestled between the weapon smiths and the shinobi supply depots, the village streets were lined with standard commercial enterprises. Pet shops were a surprisingly lucrative industry, serving both lonely civilians and genin squads desperate for D-rank retrieval missions.
Approaching the entrance of Konoha's largest civilian menagerie, Kei didn't even need his heightened hearing to register the chaotic cacophony of barking, yipping, and howling echoing from within.
Stepping through the doors, Kei bypassed the felines and avian enclosures, navigating directly toward the canine sector.
Stopping before a massive wall of wire cages, Kei pointed his cane toward the chaotic, barking mass of animals. "Observe the inventory, Neji. Your clinical directive is simple: evaluate the subjects and select the dog you believe is the absolute fiercest."
"What is the tactical value of this exercise?" Neji crossed his arms, his Byakugan remaining deactivated. "A civilian pet is still a civilian pet. Regardless of its aggression, it provides zero combat utility to a shinobi."
"Everything in this world possesses intrinsic, exploitable value, Neji," Kei countered smoothly. "The flaw lies not in the object, but in our inability to perceive its utility."
"Do not rush the diagnosis. Simply execute the directive. By the conclusion of this experiment, the tactical value of this selection will be glaringly obvious to you."
Neji hesitated. He deeply resented performing such a trivial, demeaning task. He felt his time would be infinitely better spent bleeding on the training posts. But he had spent the entire night agonizing over Kei's lecture regarding 'inner power,' and a burning, desperate curiosity compelled him to see the charade through.
With a heavy sigh, Neji stepped closer to the cages and began a methodical, visual assessment.
The shop housed a chaotic variety of breeds: thick-coated Huskies, muscular Shepherds, trembling Chihuahuas, aloof Shiba Inus, and massive, fluffy Samoyeds.
Lacking any formal education in canine behavioral psychology, Neji defaulted to standard shinobi threat-assessment protocols.
First, he systematically eliminated the small-breed dogs. Regardless of how aggressively the Chihuahuas snarled and snapped at the wire, Neji calculated that their lack of physical mass rendered their aggression entirely impotent.
Next, he evaluated the remaining medium and large breeds. He instantly disqualified any dog that was cowering in the back of its cage, exhibiting lethargy, or avoiding eye contact. In a combat scenario, fear and hesitation were fatal flaws.
Finally, Neji locked his gaze onto a cluster of large, heavily muscled mixed-breeds near the center of the wall. They were throwing their entire body weight against the cage doors, baring their fangs, and unleashing deafening, vicious roars at anyone who stepped too close.
"My assessment is complete," Neji announced, pointing to the cluster of aggressive hounds. "Those four. They possess the greatest physical mass, and they are projecting the highest level of uninhibited hostility."
"Are you absolutely certain of your diagnosis?" Kei asked, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips. "I am willing to grant you a secondary evaluation if you wish to amend your selection."
Neji's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Seeing the doctor's infuriating smile, Neji instantly assumed Kei was attempting to execute a psychological bluff, trying to manipulate him into second-guessing his own flawless logic.
"I am certain," Neji stated, locking his jaw. He refused to be manipulated.
"Very well," Kei nodded. He turned his head, raising his voice slightly to cut through the din. "Shopkeeper. If you please. I require you to open those four specific cages and place the subjects together in the central viewing enclosure."
A nervous, sweat-drenched civilian scurried over, looking horrified. "Lord Ninja, I strongly advise against that! Those are dominant, highly territorial males. If I place them in a confined space together without proper introduction, they will tear each other to shreds!"
Sensing the man's entirely justified hesitation, Kei did not waste time deploying diplomacy. He reached into his robes, extracted a thick wad of the Main House's ryo, and tossed it casually onto the counter.
The heavy thud of the currency instantly cured the shopkeeper's moral objections. The man's fearful expression evaporated, replaced by the greedy efficiency of a merchant. Ignoring the extreme risk of a canine bloodbath, the shopkeeper unlocked the four cages and aggressively herded the snarling beasts into a large, reinforced chain-link pen in the center of the room.
"Are you intentionally trying to orchestrate a slaughter?" Neji demanded, his bewilderment deepening into genuine disgust. "Placing four highly aggressive, territorial predators in a confined perimeter guarantees a violent struggle for dominance."
"Do not rush the diagnosis, Neji," Kei murmured, resting his hands on the pommel of his cane. "Simply observe the empirical outcome."
Since he had no authority to countermand the doctor's orders, Neji crossed his arms and stared intensely at the viewing pen, fully expecting a horrific, bloody melee to erupt.
For the first sixty seconds, the enclosure was absolute chaos. The four massive dogs lunged at each other, their hackles fully raised, snapping their jaws and unleashing terrifying, guttural roars that shook the shop windows. They postured violently, looking mere inches away from ripping each other's throats out.
But as the second minute ticked by, a bizarre phenomenon occurred.
The dogs did not engage.
No blood was drawn. The deafening, vicious barks gradually lost their lethal edge, devolving into high-pitched, nervous whining. The aggressive posturing ceased. One by one, the massive hounds backed away from the center of the pen. They retreated to the four distinct corners of the enclosure, circled a few times, and submissively lay down on the linoleum floor.
Within five minutes, the terrifying predators Neji had selected were entirely silent. They no longer projected a shred of ferocity; in fact, two of them were actively avoiding eye contact with each other, their tails tucked securely between their legs.
Neji stared at the subdued, pathetic animals in absolute, paradigm-shattering disbelief. He had applied flawless shinobi threat-assessment logic. He had selected the loudest, most physically imposing threats in the room.
Yet, the moment they were stripped of their cages and forced into an actual, unmediated conflict... it was all revealed to be an empty, pathetic illusion. Their terrifying roars were nothing more than a desperate bluff.