Uchiha Shisui had always wanted someone to confide in.
Shiba Seika understood his pain perfectly: caught between his clan and the village, unable to move forward or back, and with no one who understood him. The only person in the future he might be able to call a close friend, Uchiha Itachi, was probably still just a four- or five-year-old little brat.
Shisui was suffering.
And from the very first day they met, Shiba Seika had been deliberately, if subtly, guiding him to trust him.
Bearing Aizen's name, he couldn't afford to lose in this department!
Now, in Shisui's eyes, Aizen's final shortcoming—his strength—had been made up for, too. Shisui's trust in Aizen had finally reached a tipping point.
Unable to hold back his emotions any longer, he asked, "Aizen, this may be a little presumptuous, but if—just hypothetically—your clan and village came into conflict one day, which side would you choose?"
Shiba Seika gave a soft chuckle, not rushing to bare his fangs right away.
He still had to unfold this map of the Kingdom of Yan slowly, in case he came on too strong and scared Shisui.
"I'm afraid I can't help you with this one, Shisui. I'm an orphan. I have no parents, much less a clan. And in our Land of Rain, there are hardly any Ninja Clans with a proper legacy."
Shisui's disappointment was plain to see.
But in the next moment, Shiba Seika changed tack.
"But I think that no matter which side you choose, the first thing you should consider is whether they share your sense of justice and your convictions."
Seeing Shisui's confusion, Shiba Seika continued with a smile.
"Let me tell you a true story from our Land of Rain.
Most of us joined because we admired the reputation of Lord