Shisui didn't dare lift his head
He did not argue. He did not defend himself. He barely even allowed himself to breathe too loudly. Only after Kei's footsteps had completely faded into the night did the suffocating pressure around his chest begin to ease.
The scattered banknotes lay across the alley like quiet accusations.
He tugged at his collar, loosening it as though it were strangling him. It wasn't tight. Not even close. And yet it felt as if something invisible had wrapped around his throat.
"Why did I want so badly to prove he was the culprit?"
The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Guilt gnawed at him. He had forced a search without evidence, driven purely by suspicion, and the result had turned him into a fool.
Normally, no matter the situation, he prided himself on remaining composed. Yet when facing Kei, something inside him refused to stay still. His judgment wavered. His emotions surfaced too easily.
He couldn't understand it.
Finding no answer, he bent down and began picking up the banknotes one by one.
It took him the entire night.
When he finally gathered the last of them, the alley had long fallen silent. He stood there for a moment, surrounded by nothing but damp stone and distant wind, before leaving in a daze.
Back home, he tried smoothing the wrinkled bills flat. No matter how carefully he pressed them, the creases remained. The folds refused to disappear.
Staring at those stubborn lines, he felt as though they were mocking him.
....
The next morning,
Kei slept until nearly noon.
When he finally awoke, heavy rain was already pouring down. The downpour emptied the streets of pedestrians, leaving only the distant presence of Shisui trailing far behind him.
Shisui maintained a distance of more than two streets and even slowed his pace deliberately, as if afraid that closing the gap might reveal something.
Kei paid him no mind.
He walked at his usual rhythm, neither slowing nor acknowledging the shadow behind him.
Outside the clinic, Haru waited.
"You don't seem particularly concerned about your own business," she said coolly as he approached.
Kei tossed her the key casually. "My apologies. I overslept. Perhaps next time you could come wake me."
"Hyūga Kei, I am not your servant."
"I know," he replied seriously. "You serve the Great Elder's household. There's no need to emphasize it, everyone is aware."
Haru said nothing more. She pulled open the clinic door with unnecessary force and stepped inside. Kei followed calmly, took his seat, and declared the clinic open for the day.
Unfortunately, the rain intensified, and no patients arrived. With nothing to do, Kei rested his head lightly on the desk and appeared to doze.
Of course, whether his eyes were open or closed made little difference.
Behind him, Haru stood like a statue. For reasons she could not articulate, irritation simmered within her as she watched him sit idly.
She was merely an assistant, and unofficially, a monitor assigned to observe him. Yet lately it felt as though she was the one maintaining the clinic while he drifted through it effortlessly.
She did not understand when the dynamic had shifted.
But under no circumstances would she be the one to initiate that conversation.
The silence inside the clinic stretched on, broken only by the steady rhythm of rain against the roof.
Outside, Shisui stood beneath an umbrella, holding a brand-new paper bag in his arms.
He paced several times at a distance carefully chosen. From there, he could be seen from the clinic if someone looked, and he could hear if anyone called out.
If not for last night's incident, he would have walked in immediately and returned the money.
Now, each step toward the door felt unbearably heavy.
The rain fell harder.
Still, no voice called out to invite him in.
No moment came to free his feet from their invisible restraint.
After nearly an entire day standing in the storm, he finally turned away.
The money could wait.
The truth could not.
Once alone, Shisui reviewed everything from the moment he accepted the mission until now, searching for overlooked connections.
When he reached the memory of the scattered banknotes, two voices rose within him.
One insisted that Kei was the culprit and that the investigation must continue.
The other warned that he had already erred once and should not compound that mistake.
After prolonged hesitation, the first voice prevailed.
He would continue suspecting Kei.
He told himself firmly that this decision had nothing to do with trying to erase the shame of last night.
To justify it, he assembled his reasoning carefully.
First, Kei's route home. There were broader, safer main roads available, yet he consistently chose the narrow alleys of the slum district at night. Why?
Second, the crime scenes. Twice, Kei had been nearby, and no other suspicious individuals had been present.
Third, Kei's ability. Though blind, his shinobi strength remained intact. With his skill set, capturing civilians would not be difficult.
Taken together, the suspicion felt logical.
He considered confronting Kei directly again but abandoned the idea. Verbal exchanges with that psychologist had consistently left him at a disadvantage. The suffocating humiliation of the previous night still lingered vividly.
No.
He would gather evidence first.
When the proof was undeniable, Kei would have no words left.
For reasons he did not fully recognize, Shisui found himself anticipating that moment.
He resumed his investigation in earnest.
He combed through nearly every alley in the slum district, tracing patterns, observing shadows, listening for disturbances.
Yet despite his efforts, he found nothing.
More than once, he watched helplessly as villagers vanished before his eyes, leaving no trace behind.
Worse still, the unseen perpetrator grew bolder. Each day, the number of disappearances increased.
Frustration mounted.
Night after night, Shisui saw Kei pass through the alleys. The following day, someone would be gone.
Coincidence?
He could no longer accept that explanation.
And so, on this particular night, when Kei closed his clinic and stepped once again into the narrow passageways, Shisui moved.
He appeared directly in Kei's path.
"Our famed Shunshin no Shisui isn't busy pursuing the truth tonight?" Kei asked calmly. "Back to troubling me instead?"
Shisui drew his short blade from behind his back, eyes locked onto Kei.
"You can't deceive me."
Kei tilted his head slightly.
"I'm genuinely curious how you've managed to be so thoroughly wrong."
"Stop trying to twist this," Shisui snapped. "Once or twice might be coincidence. But don't you think there have been too many coincidences?"
Kei's expression remained tranquil.
"Can you guarantee," he asked quietly, "that what you're seeing is truly the truth?"
A faint pause hung between them.
"It seems," Kei continued, "that you learned nothing from last time."
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