Naruto: Starting by Reading Minds in Naruto

The capital of the Land of Fire made Konoha look provincial.

Tonbo’s team confirmed that Asuma had entered the Guardian Twelve, sent the final intelligence to Konoha, and spent several days walking streets broad enough for military formations. Electric lights shone above shops selling radios, field glasses, mechanical clocks, and tools Tonbo had never expected to find outside the half-remembered images of another life.

He bought what seemed useful. Compact radios could transform coordination between separated teams. A good telescope extended a sensory shinobi’s reach without revealing chakra. Even ordinary equipment, placed in the right hands, could decide a mission.

The merchants carried civilian inventions beside shinobi equipment without treating the distinction as important. Signal lamps shared shelves with explosive tags. A clockmaker sold sealed timers to demolition specialists. Tonbo wrote down prices and suppliers, already considering what the Analysis Team could use and what Konoha might reproduce more cheaply at home.

Seeing the capital also answered an old question. Konoha possessed the greatest concentrated military force in the Land of Fire; that did not make it the country’s only power.

A vast barrier enclosed the capital. Tonbo felt its layers whenever his perception brushed the city walls. The daimyō had the Guardian Twelve, but noble families maintained private shinobi forces of their own, and several chakra signatures within the palace district belonged to people no sensible jōnin would dismiss.

Konoha could not simply conquer the country that funded it. The village was the largest military institution in a complicated state, not a state unto itself.

”Worth seeing,” Tonbo said as they left the capital behind.

Nearly a month had passed since the team departed Konoha, making this their longest mission. Iruka, Mibu Shinobu, and Tessen Togekei had imagined dangerous battles and heroic victories when Hiruzen assigned them a B-rank task. They had instead gathered information, trained until their muscles shook, and watched their captain defeat Asuma before any of them joined the fight.

They were a little disappointed. They were also much stronger.

Iruka used a burst of chakra through his feet to keep pace. ”When we get back, the others won’t recognize us.”

”I could defeat ten of the person I was before we left,” Mibu declared.

”Your old self would lose to a chair if Captain put it under genjutsu,” Tessen said. ”My new technique is what matters. My father won’t believe it until I show him.”

They had been fortunate in their assignment. Tonbo taught them as disciples rather than temporary subordinates, correcting details most captains would have left for experience to punish.

Iruka’s Water Dragon had grown denser. Mibu could turn firm ground to mud before an opponent completed a charge. Tessen’s Wind chakra no longer merely clung to steel; it narrowed along the cutting edge. None of them had become invincible in a month, but each understood how to continue improving without a captain standing over his shoulder.

His secret techniques remained beyond them. Even Mibu, the only one with a real inclination toward genjutsu, had learned how far away they were. The Psycho Mind Transmission required mastery over foreign minds. Tonbo’s genjutsu required precise control of chakra pathways and a medical shinobi’s understanding of nerves. His woven constructs demanded another discipline on top of both.

”Enough boasting,” Tonbo called. ”We’re increasing speed. Body Flicker. On a battlefield, arriving a minute early matters more than looking impressive on the road.”

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He formed a seal and vanished ahead.

The three cursed and followed.

Konoha’s gate appeared before sunset.

Izumo Kamizuki and Kotetsu Hagane sat at the registration desk, bored enough to complain openly.

”Why do we always get gate duty?” Izumo asked.

”Tonbo already has a genin team,” Kotetsu said. ”We’re chūnin too. Where’s ours?”

”Guy still works under Chōza-sama. If he gets a team before us, then we can be jealous.”

Kotetsu yawned and rested a hand near the enormous hammer he carried. ”My weapon is starving for action.”

”Someone’s coming.”

Four figures approached along the road, one tall and bandaged, the others struggling not to appear winded.

”Izumo. Old Iron,” Tonbo greeted them.

”Good afternoon, senpai,” the genin said together.

Kotetsu’s eyes narrowed. ”Why does he get his name while I’m ’Old Iron’? Do I look old to you?”

”Only around the eyes.”

Kotetsu ignored that and studied the three younger shinobi. ”This is your team? You aren’t wasting their talent, are you? Your Academy scores weren’t better than ours.”

”I carry the Will of Fire,” Tonbo said solemnly. ”How could I waste the village’s youth? Tell him what it’s like serving under me.”

”Captain is the best,” the three answered at once. ”He’s amazing. The most dedicated shinobi in the world.”

Izumo and Kotetsu exchanged a long look.

”Did you put them under genjutsu?” Izumo asked.

”Education often resembles magic to the uneducated.”

Tonbo signed the team through the gate. ”I have a report to deliver. Drinks later.”

The four departed before Kotetsu found an answer.

”He invited us drinking,” Izumo said.

Kotetsu watched Tonbo disappear into the village. ”Good. I’ll put him under the table. Being a special jōnin won’t save him from that.”

Tonbo dismissed his students once they reached the administrative district and went alone to the Hokage’s office. His complete report covered Asuma’s route, his decision to join the Guardian Twelve, Chiriku, the assassination network, the capital’s defenses, and every message previously sent in fragments.

He kept observation separate from conjecture. The barrier around the capital was confirmed; the number of private forces was an estimate. The attackers’ memories proved a contract, but not the identity of the person who paid for it. Hiruzen would have enough information to act without mistaking Tonbo’s deductions for facts.

Hiruzen read the first pages while Tonbo waited.

”You did well,” the Hokage said at last. ”Go home and rest.”

”Yes, Hokage-sama.”

After Tonbo left, Hiruzen returned to the section concerning his son. Asuma would not come home soon. Perhaps distance would succeed where repeated arguments had failed.

”Find your king,” Hiruzen murmured.

Working for the daimyō kept Asuma within the Land of Fire and under eyes Hiruzen trusted. For now, that would have to be enough.

Tessen Togekei had no intention of resting.

He separated from his teammates and found Kamano Kisa, a former classmate from the Academy and an old rival of roughly equal skill.

”You want to spar?” Kisa asked.

”Captain trained us for a month. I need to measure the result.”

Kisa smiled. ”My teacher trained me too. Don’t assume you’re the only one who improved.”

They went to Training Ground 45 as the lowering sun turned the field yellow. After forming the Seal of Confrontation, both reached for their weapons.

Tessen opened with several shuriken.

Kisa produced a pair of chained sickles and spun them into a shield. Metal rang against metal. The force of the impact traveled up his arms and changed his smile into surprise.

Less than two months had passed since graduation. Tessen’s throws felt as though they belonged to someone years ahead.

They closed into taijutsu. Kisa’s clan style had troubled Tessen throughout their Academy days: chains altered the range of every attack, and the sickles punished careless approaches.

Now the pattern looked slow.

Not because Kisa had become weaker. His chains still carried the same deceptive reach, and his hands moved with the confidence of clan instruction. Tessen had changed. A month of being ambushed by his captain, questioned after every mistake, and forced to fight while tired or half blind had taught him to look beyond the weapon itself.

Kisa’s shoulders revealed the next swing. His rear foot turned before the chain changed direction. Tessen saw more than a dozen counters in the first exchange alone.

He used none of them immediately. Winning too quickly would tell him less than testing the limits of what Tonbo had taught.

He shortened his grip on the kunai, entered the chain’s circle at the moment Kisa expected him to retreat, and withdrew before the second sickle could close. Kisa adjusted. Tessen adjusted again. What had once been a desperate exchange became a problem with several workable answers.

Kunai met sickle beneath the fading light, and Tessen smiled. His captain had been right. The foundation changed everything.