Naruto: Starting by Reading Minds in Naruto

Itachi continued staring at Tonbo, unmoved by the threat of another genjutsu.

”Stubborn child,” Tonbo said. ”The Will of Fire is protection. You protect the people and things that matter to you. I do not plan my life around choosing between family and village.”

He leaned back against the tree.

”The time you spend rehearsing an impossible choice could be used to grow stronger. Hashirama Senju and Madara Uchiha reached a level where entire nations had to account for their decisions. If two shinobi could combine the power of the Great Buddha and Susanoo, who would force terms upon them?”

Power created options. Tonbo did not mean that strength solved every moral conflict, only that accepting helplessness in advance guaranteed the worst kind of choice.

If Itachi spent years preparing to sacrifice either clan or village, he might become so accustomed to the premise that he never searched for another path. Tonbo preferred an ambition that sounded impossible to a resignation that made catastrophe inevitable.

Itachi’s gaze wavered. The argument had merit, but absolute strength did not exist. Even the most powerful shinobi could fail, and if the conflict between clan and village became irreconcilable, someone would still have to decide.

He stored Tonbo’s answer without treating it as a solution. It would not stop him from trying to become a bridge between the Uchiha and Konoha.

Anko rubbed her still-burning lips. ”You’re dreaming. Hiruzen-sama could not protect everything. Neither Minato nor the Sannin entered battle without deciding what to sacrifice.”

She had faced a choice of her own when Orochimaru abandoned Konoha. Her teacher chose ambition; Anko chose the village.

That decision had not felt noble. It left her with anger, unanswered questions, and the suspicion of people who remembered whose student she had been. Hearing Tonbo dismiss the need for choices touched a wound he could not see.

”That is why the question is useless,” Tonbo said. ”Especially when Itachi demands an answer as if someone else can provide the correct one. Every person’s Will of Fire is different. Other lives can guide you, but no one can make your decision.”

He tapped one finger against his temple.

”You must think for yourself.”

”I understand, Tonbo-senpai.”

Itachi recognized that further questioning would gain nothing.

”And you,” Anko said, pointing at Tonbo. ”The peppers are not forgotten. I will beat you for that eventually.”

Birdcalls and rustling leaves filled the pause that followed.

Tonbo stood. ”We have rested enough. The captain has already begun his route, and we did not come here to debate philosophy.”

All three returned to the mission at once.

Tonbo produced several compact devices and tossed one each to Anko and Itachi. Curved bands rested around the neck, with a receiver near one ear and a small transmitter at the throat.

”Short-range radios,” he explained. ”Civilian workshops in the Land of Fire began selling them last year. They are bulky, and the reliable range is only about one kilometer, but they let us speak without regrouping.”

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He had purchased several during the team’s visit to the capital and tested them before bringing them into the field.

”Show us,” Anko said.

Tonbo demonstrated the controls, selected a shared channel, and moved through the trees until foliage concealed him.

The radios were not secure against interception, so he assigned short call signs and warned them never to transmit classified detail. Their purpose was immediate coordination: direction, distance, danger, and confirmation that each member remained conscious.

”Testing. Can you hear me?”

His voice emerged clearly from Itachi’s receiver. The boy looked toward the sound’s true origin, confirmed Tonbo was not nearby, and adjusted the controls as instructed.

”Received.”

”This is useful,” Anko said over the channel. ”When I command a team, everyone will carry one.”

Hayama’s voice joined them. ”Patrol independently, but remain inside radio range. Report every anomaly immediately.”

Anko blinked. ”Captain, when did you get one?”

”Hayama and I were classmates,” Tonbo replied. ”Naturally, I coordinated with him before giving equipment to the rest of you.”

Five days of patrol produced nothing.

They moved at irregular hours, changed routes, inspected abandoned camps, and questioned merchants without revealing the full purpose of the mission. At night they slept in rotating shifts beneath concealment barriers. No hostile chakra approached, no false tracks survived examination, and no captured traveler carried useful information.

Tonbo’s perception covered the forest. Itachi examined tracks and distant movement with the Sharingan. Anko sent snakes through roots and brush, while Hayama applied years of field experience to every likely route. None found a reliable trace of the attackers.

With Hayama’s permission, Tonbo expanded the search along the entire trade road between Fire and Iron.

He rode high above the trees on a woven eagle, binoculars trained on a broad road running through the forest. The section three kilometers ahead marked the site of the latest caravan attack.

The road stretched beyond sight, wide enough for loaded wagons but hemmed in by tall trees. Countless hiding places overlooked it.

Steep ground pressed close on one side several kilometers ahead while a stream cut off easy escape on the other. A small force could trap a caravan there, strike the guards from elevation, and disappear through the forest before reinforcements arrived.

Movement appeared in the distance.

”An ore caravan.”

Roughly fifty people accompanied a dozen horse-drawn wagons. Armed escorts moved around the formation, alert and unusually cautious. They knew what had happened to earlier shipments.

Tonbo activated his radio.

”Ore caravan entering our sector. Approximately fifty people and twelve wagons. An ambush remains possible.”

Three acknowledgments returned in the correct voices.

He continued observing. Number of travelers, wagon spacing, visible weapons, posture, expressions, tracks, and the rhythm of the escorts’ patrols entered a mental map organized through polar coordinates. Tonbo wrote key details on a small pad.

He compared the depth of wheel ruts to the apparent loads, counted how often each guard looked toward the trees, and marked travelers who clustered without speaking. Habit turned the moving crowd into data without erasing the people inside it.

Several people did not fit.

Their eyes repeatedly followed the escort shinobi. When they looked toward the wagons, the tension in their mouths and cheeks contradicted their otherwise neutral expressions. Any single reaction could be dismissed. Taken together, the pattern was wrong.

One supposed merchant smiled when an escort turned away, then reconstructed a worried expression a fraction too late. Another watched the lead wagon with the concentration of someone measuring distance rather than protecting cargo. Their disguises copied faces; they did not fully copy the habits belonging to those faces.

Tonbo guided the eagle across the forest and descended at the predetermined meeting point. Hayama, Anko, and Itachi were already waiting.

”What did you find?” Hayama asked.

”The caravan is being watched from inside. I believe several infiltrators are traveling with it. The road narrows farther ahead, and that is the most likely attack site.”

Anko frowned. ”How could you identify transformed spies from that altitude?”

Itachi waited for the explanation as well.

”Transformation is built from a reference,” Tonbo said. ”A poor transformation reproduces appearance without perfectly reproducing unconscious expression. Several travelers showed combinations of microexpressions that did not match normal reactions to the guards or cargo.”

He unfolded his notes.

”The suspicious behavior, the known attacks, and the ambush terrain support the same conclusion. I may still be wrong. If so, preparation costs us nothing and proves the caravan safe.”

Each fact reinforced the others. Tonbo could not claim certainty, but the probability was close enough to act.

Hayama studied the notes rather than relying on Tonbo’s reputation. Itachi traced the predicted route across the map, and Anko considered where her snakes could approach unseen. Within moments, suspicion became an operational plan.