Naruto: Starting by Reading Minds in Naruto

Steel rang through the forest.

Shuriken came whispering between the trees in volleys, striking kunai, branches, and the hard edge of Asuma’s finger blades. He turned one aside and ducked another, catching a glimpse of Chiriku fighting at his back.

”These friends of yours?” Asuma asked, knocking a shuriken into the undergrowth.

The answer nearly vanished beneath another storm of steel. Chakra rose behind Chiriku in the shape of a many-armed Bodhisattva, its spectral hands beating aside one weapon after another.

”My apologies,” the monk said. ”I neglected to mention that a Fire Temple monk traveling to the capital as a guardian shinobi tends to attract attention. Some may wish to kill me. Others may prefer to take my identity and use it to reach the daimyō. I doubt the road will be peaceful.”

”You might’ve led with that.”

Asuma formed hand seals and drew a deep breath.

”Fire Release: Ash Pile Burning.”

A cloud of hot ash poured between the trees, rolling over the hidden attackers before they could scatter. Their faces showed for an instant through the gray. Asuma snapped his teeth together.

The cloud exploded.

Screams broke the rhythm of the assault. The surviving shinobi hesitated, and that moment cost them. Asuma rushed the nearest while Chiriku’s chakra arms swept in from the opposite side. Steel flashed, earth churned beneath hurried feet, and within minutes the forest went quiet again.

One attacker tried to flee through the canopy. A chakra hand caught him before the second branch and hurled him back into Asuma’s path. The last two broke in opposite directions, but without the cover of the volleys neither made it beyond the clearing.

Asuma wiped sweat from his brow and looked over the bodies. ”Joining the Guardian Twelve isn’t much of a retirement plan.”

”I have put you to some trouble,” Chiriku said, smiling as calmly as he had in the tavern.

”You can apologize after we find out who they were.”

The search produced common weapons, plain clothing, and not so much as a scrap of paper. No forehead protectors. No insignia. Nothing on the bodies that pointed toward a village, employer, or country.

Even their tools had been scrubbed of maker’s marks. Whoever had sent them had expected bodies to be found and prepared accordingly.

”They dared attack a monk of the Fire Temple,” Chiriku said. ”They would hardly carry proof of who sent them. You will find nothing.”

”I wouldn’t be so certain.”

The unfamiliar voice brought both of them around at once. Asuma raised his blades; Chiriku stepped beside him as four figures emerged from among the trees.

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All four wore Konoha forehead protectors. Three were children. The man leading them was tall, dressed in a shinobi vest, with bandages wrapped around his head and across his eyes.

Asuma’s jaw tightened. So the old man had sent someone after him after all.

The bandaged shinobi lifted a hand. ”It’s been a while, Asuma. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me already.”

Asuma studied the height, the covered face, the familiar voice buried beneath years he had not paid much attention to. At last he found an unremarkable boy from his Academy days hidden somewhere in the man before him.

”Tobitake Tonbo?”

Chiriku relaxed a fraction. An acquaintance, then, though not necessarily a welcome one.

Tonbo pressed a hand to his chest as if wounded. ”Three years in the same class, a face no reasonable person could forget, and you still sound uncertain. Cruel.” He glanced back at his genin. ”Let this be a lesson. Forgetting a comrade’s name is terribly rude.”

The three exchanged wary looks. Teasing the Hokage’s son to his face did not seem like a lesson they were eager to practice.

”Why are you here?” Asuma demanded. ”Did the Third send you to drag me home?”

”Hokage-sama sent us to learn what you’ve been doing. If possible, I’m also meant to persuade you to return.”

”Then you’ll have to break my arms and legs and carry me.”

Asuma settled into a fighting stance. Chiriku did the same beside him.

”I don’t know the cause of this,” the monk said, ”but if he means to force you, you will not face him alone.”

Tonbo sighed. His students watched him, waiting.

”There it is,” he told them. ”A shinobi without the Will of Fire, ready to attack comrades from his own village. Don’t follow that example. This is what happens when a captain fails to educate his subordinates properly. If any of you lead teams someday, do better.”

Iruka, Mibu Shinobu, and Tessen Togekei nodded with grave attention. Their captain could apparently turn even a runaway shinobi into a lecture.

Asuma’s frown deepened. He could argue with his father as much as he pleased. Hearing someone else use him as proof of the Hokage’s failures was another matter.

”You’re only a squad captain. What gives you the right to judge the Hokage?”

The corner of Tonbo’s mouth twitched. ”You do. Rude, reckless, and entirely too pleased with yourself.”

That was enough.

Asuma lunged.

”Stand back and watch,” Tonbo told his students. ”Consider this a combat lesson. Move the bodies clear as well. We may need them afterward.”

His kunai met Asuma’s blades with a sharp crack. Wind-natured chakra bit into the metal at once, carving a thin line along its edge.

”Not bad,” Tonbo said. ”Your nature transformation has come a long way.”

His right foot snapped upward.

Asuma jerked his head back as the Leaf Rising Wind grazed his chin. Tonbo turned with the missed kick and brought the same leg down in a chopping strike. Asuma caught it on both forearms, but the force drove his feet into the earth.

Every technique was familiar. That only made it worse. Tonbo used the Academy’s common taijutsu without wasted motion or warning, each transition hiding the next until Asuma found himself reacting too late. His own close combat, a point of pride, had no room to breathe.

At the edge of the clearing, the three genin dragged the dead attackers farther from the fight. They stared whenever they could spare a glance, mouths open at the sight of their captain suppressing Asuma with nothing more exotic than ordinary Konoha forms.

Chiriku watched more carefully. He had fought beside Asuma for several days and seen enough ambushes to respect his skill, especially at close range. Yet the bandaged shinobi controlled every exchange.

Who was Tobitake Tonbo?

Asuma broke away with a spread of shuriken, gaining the space for another sequence of seals.

”Fire Release: Ash Pile Burning.”

Ash billowed across the clearing. Tonbo formed his own seals without hurry.

”Water Release: Water Wall.”

Water surged up between them. The ash burst against it with a muffled roar, heat turning the surface to steam, but none of the fire reached Tonbo.

”Watch closely,” he called to his students from behind the wall. ”When the enemy commits to Fire Release, answering with Water Release is usually the cleanest counter.”

Asuma’s face went red. Being outmatched was bad enough. Being used as a classroom demonstration was intolerable.