Naruto: Starting by Reading Minds in Naruto

At the Ninja Academy, Iruka surveyed his classroom with restrained suspicion. 

For months, Tonbo had summoned him for lessons whenever their schedules aligned. The attention made no sense until one bright afternoon, when Iruka was eating with Mibu Shinobu and remembering old missions. Tonbo appeared without warning, announced another evaluation of Iruka’s genjutsu, and included Shinobu in the exercise for good measure. 

Iruka had prepared. After studying Eightfold Flavor, he developed a technique that sealed his ears against incoming sound. It worked perfectly against the auditory transmission. 

Tonbo caught him with an ordinary visual illusion instead. 

The defeat reminded Iruka that his teacher’s original specialty had never depended upon music. Shinobu, hardened by Intelligence and Interrogation training, endured the experience better, but afterward adopted a practical rule: invite Iruka to meals only when Tonbo was confirmed busy elsewhere. 

Iruka tested that rule twice. On the first occasion, Tonbo’s shadow clone found them before dessert. On the second, Shinobu spotted a woven sparrow on the windowsill and fled through the kitchen without explanation. The bird proved harmless, but Shinobu refused to return. Iruka finished both meals alone and began to suspect that his social life had become another casualty of his students’ rebellion. 

Repeated investigation finally revealed the cause. Several Academy students had attacked Tonbo and claimed Iruka had sent them. Worse, Shikun and Saiji had spread the idea to other classes. 

Iruka felt betrayed. He devoted himself to these children’s education and future survival, and they repaid him by making him the target of a bored genjutsu specialist. Their use of misdirection deserved professional approval. Their choice of victim did not. 

Today he had gathered enough evidence. His attention settled on the likely conspirators, particularly Shikun and Saiji. Hana belonged to another year but would face him soon enough. 

He had reconstructed the scheme from overheard boasts, conflicting denials, and one remarkably detailed drawing confiscated from a younger student. The original trio had turned their successful strike into Academy legend. Each retelling made Tonbo taller, the earthen wall higher, and Iruka more directly responsible. In one version, Iruka had issued a formal mission and promised extra credit. 

That final invention offended him most. If he ever assigned an attack on Tonbo, he would at least teach the students how to escape afterward. 

The boys noticed his scrutiny almost immediately. 

”Iruka-sensei is acting strangely,” Shikun conveyed with a glance. 

”He’s watching us,” Saiji’s answering expression said. 

”Looking for an excuse?” 

”Study. We already suffer Tonbo-sensei’s genjutsu after class. I refuse to suffer Iruka-sensei’s too.” 

Months of shared training had created an alarming degree of silent coordination between them. Their chakra control remained mediocre, but their instincts for observation and conspiracy were excellent. 

Both bent over their work with faultless concentration. 

Iruka’s gaze moved around the room. Every former troublemaker was behaving. Students who once whispered through lectures now took notes. Even the proud Uchiha children maintained classroom discipline rather than risk Eightfold Flavor. 

The improvement extended beyond silence. Written scores had risen, equipment disappeared less often, and sparring disputes ended before instructors intervened. Fear had accomplished in months what repeated lectures had failed to achieve. Iruka appreciated the results even while questioning the method—and while resenting that none of the children had confessed what they had done to him. 

He should have been pleased. Instead, he wondered whether he had extinguished something essential in them. The whistle hanging against his chest felt unbearably idle. 

”Beat up Iruka-sensei,” a child mumbled. 

Every head turned. 

Hyūga Tokuma slept at his desk, entirely unaware that he had voiced his dream aloud. 

Iruka smiled. 

The expression was so delighted that several students recoiled. Uchiha Tōma, who had rarely admired anyone outside his clan, regarded Tokuma with new respect. In a classroom governed by fear, the sleeping Hyūga had challenged fate itself. 

A piece of chalk struck Tokuma between the eyes. 

He woke slowly, saw Iruka standing over him, then noticed his classmates’ fascinated stares. Understanding arrived all at once. 

”Everyone continue studying,” Iruka said. ”Tokuma and I will discuss sleeping and speaking during class outside.” 

He gestured toward the door. Tokuma rose with the solemnity of a prisoner walking to judgment. 

The room erupted the instant they disappeared. 

”He’s finished.” 

”What flavor will he get?” 

”Something hot. Tokuma hates spicy food.” 

”It should be Tōma’s turn next.” 

”As if Iruka-sensei could catch me,” Tōma muttered. 

The other students ignored him. Suffering the technique themselves was dreadful; predicting a classmate’s reaction was excellent entertainment. Tokuma usually ranked near the top, obeyed rules, and had experienced Iruka’s disciplinary genjutsu only a few times. That made his fall particularly satisfying. 

A short while later, Iruka returned with Tokuma behind him. The Hyūga boy’s face was tight and unhappy. 

Several classmates inspected him for evidence. His eyes were dry, his breathing steady, and his steps controlled, but none of that proved anything. Tokuma possessed enough pride to conceal humiliation until he reached home. 

”Let this be a reminder,” Iruka said. ”Discipline is not merely about pleasing your instructor. On a mission, the habit of remaining alert may keep you and your teammates alive. Study now so that you possess the knowledge to survive later.” 

He sent Tokuma to his seat. The slight upward curve of Iruka’s mouth revealed how much he had enjoyed the lesson. 

At last, he understood Tonbo’s enthusiasm. An unpleasant consequence could correct behavior, promote progress, and offer the instructor a modest amount of revenge at the same time. 

Iruka finished the lecture, assigned quiet work, and left the room after warning everyone not to give him another reason to return. 

Tokuma waited several seconds. 

”Byakugan.” 

Veins rose around his eyes as he watched Iruka continue down the corridor. Once the teacher passed beyond useful range, Tokuma’s miserable expression vanished. A smug smile replaced it. 

His deskmate leaned close. ”What flavor was it?” 

Tōma pretended not to listen. Everyone else abandoned the pretense entirely. 

”I don’t know,” Tokuma said. 

”How can you not know? Did he choose something you liked?” 

Iruka generally used only one sensation for classroom discipline. The goal was correction, not torment, and a short exposure was enough to make his point. 

Tokuma folded his arms. ”We are shinobi. Did you expect me to experience the same genjutsu repeatedly without searching for a countermeasure? You underestimate the Hyūga bloodline.” 

The class went silent. 

The Byakugan offered more than distant sight. Tokuma could observe the movement of chakra through his own network with a precision unavailable to most students. Each previous punishment had shown him where the foreign chakra entered and how it spread. He had spent weeks reviewing those moments and rehearsing a response, waiting for a chance to prove it worked. 

His distress in the corridor had been an act. Iruka believed the illusion worked because Tokuma had allowed him to believe it. 

”How did you break it?” Shikun asked. 

Every student leaned forward. Moments earlier, the subject had been gossip. Now it concerned their collective survival. 

Tōma frowned. Tokuma had not merely resisted Iruka’s genjutsu; he had deceived their teacher afterward. The Uchiha boy had accomplished neither, and the knowledge stung. 

Tokuma let the suspense build, enjoying the rare advantage. ”The answer begins with knowing exactly how the chakra reaches you.”