Naruto: Starting by Reading Minds in Naruto

Tonbo paced outside a delivery room in Konoha Hospital beneath harsh lights while two older men watched from a bench. 

He had removed the bandages he normally wore in public. White hair framed a pale face; equally pale lashes surrounded blue eyes whose unfocused appearance revealed little of what he perceived. Passing nurses glanced at the handsome young man, then noticed his anxious pacing and understood that his wife was inside. 

Tonbo’s perception crossed the corridor walls easily, but he refused to extend it into the delivery room. Detecting chakra would tell him almost nothing useful, and following every fluctuation would only give his imagination more material. For once, blindness offered less torment than information. 

”Tonbo, sit down,” Teuchi said. ”You are making me nervous, and I was perfectly calm before you started.” 

He remembered pacing in much the same way before Ayame’s birth. Knowing the behavior was natural did not make it easier to endure from someone else. 

Tobitake Tōsei was less sympathetic. ”A jōnin should possess better self-control. Did they give you the rank by mistake?” 

Tonbo finally stopped. ”This is my first time becoming a father. It would be stranger if I weren’t worried. Neither of you can claim you calmly waited for your own children.” 

His father and father-in-law found other places to look. 

”Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?” Tonbo asked. ”We still haven’t settled on a name.” 

He had examined memories from enemy shinobi without flinching and solved problems that baffled trained analysts. Naming one child had defeated him for months. 

”You had the entire pregnancy,” Teuchi said. ”How do you have nothing?” 

Tōsei considered the matter gravely. ”If it is a boy, name him Tobitake Tenku. A name that invokes the open sky will encourage him to rise above everyone. I gave you a name associated with flight, and you became a jōnin. The evidence is clear.” 

He looked extremely satisfied with his reasoning. 

”No,” Teuchi said. ”A boy should be Tonkotsu and a girl Miso. Either one would understand the family business from birth.” 

Tonbo rubbed his chin. Apparently the method was to choose a desired future and attach a related word to the surname. 

”Then a boy can be Captain and a girl Director. They would begin life as senior officers.” 

Both grandfathers stared at him. 

”Why stop there? Call the child Hokage,” Tōsei said. 

”Or Daimyō,” Teuchi added. 

”If Ayame agrees, those remain possibilities.” 

Tōsei pointed toward the far end of the corridor. ”You are no longer participating in the naming discussion. Stand over there until Ayame can protect the children from you.” 

Teuchi agreed immediately. The two grandfathers then began a quieter argument over whose family traditions deserved priority. Tonbo listened in disbelief until he realized that their ridiculous debate served the same purpose as his pacing. None of them could help Ayame, so they filled the waiting with anything that kept fear from settling. 

Tonbo turned back toward the delivery room with a huff. 

A baby’s cry sounded beyond the door. 

All three men rose. 

A second cry followed, distinct from the first. 

Tonbo’s joy sharpened into alarm. There were two children. He had known twins were possible, but hearing both voices made every risk to Ayame suddenly immediate. 

The doors opened at last. Two medical-nin emerged, each carrying a bundled infant. 

”Congratulations,” one said. ”A boy and a girl. The delivery was natural, and both children are healthy. Their mother is healthy as well.” 

The tension left Tonbo so quickly that his knees weakened. He approached the children and felt an unfamiliar certainty before he touched either one. Their chakra signatures were small and unformed, yet recognizably connected to Ayame and to him. 

They were not an abstract future any longer. They were two lives for which he bore responsibility. 

The realization did not feel like a burden. It felt like discovering a source of strength he had never known he possessed. 

One infant closed a tiny hand around his finger. The other slept through the exchange, unconcerned by the adults gathered around them. Tonbo tried to memorize their breathing, the weight of the first touch, and the sound of Ayame’s tired voice from within the room. His inherited memories contained entire lives, yet this moment belonged only to him. 

Tōsei and Teuchi forgot every proposed name as soon as they saw their grandchildren. Their earlier rivalry gave way to equally helpless smiles. 

One month later, Tonbo stood before the Hokage’s desk with exhaustion and displeasure written plainly across his uncovered face. 

”I am sorry to take you away from your children,” Hiruzen said. ”The mission is urgent, and every other suitable jōnin is already assigned.” 

Tonbo accepted the document without complaint. Konohamaru had been born roughly a month before his twins, and Shinnosuke received only two weeks with his son before duty called him away. The village demanded sacrifices even from the Hokage’s family. 

That did not make leaving Ayame and two newborns hurt less. 

”The information came from Amegakure,” Hiruzen continued. ”Our source reported internal unrest beginning more than two years ago, but the report reached us only recently. You will lead a squad into the Land of Rain, determine what changed inside the village, and learn the intentions of whoever now controls it.” 

The two-year delay disturbed Hiruzen almost as much as the report itself. Intelligence from the Rain should have moved through established channels, yet someone had kept it from the Hokage’s office until repeated losses made concealment impossible. Tonbo recognized the outline of an internal struggle before Danzō ever entered the room. 

Tonbo read the attached summaries. ”Three previous intelligence teams disappeared.” 

”All experienced operatives,” Hiruzen said. ”That is why I am sending you. Gather what you can, but withdraw if the danger becomes unreasonable. I will not trade a fourth team for the same silence.” 

The delayed report and missing squads suggested more than a routine political struggle. Amegakure occupied a dangerous crossroads, and Tonbo’s inherited memories associated the village with Akatsuki. After nearly seven years in this world, he was approaching one of the forces he had hoped to avoid. 

He reviewed the mission boundaries carefully. Investigation did not mean confrontation. If Akatsuki already controlled the village, identifying that fact and returning alive would be a success. Heroics would leave Ayame widowed and his children without a father before they could remember him. 

”Understood. Who is on my team?” 

”Your former student Tessen Togekei and two ANBU specialists,” another voice answered. 

A man entered the office. He bore a cross-shaped scar on his chin, but both arms remained sound and he carried no cane. Tonbo recognized Danzō Shimura from the Nine-Tails’ attack. 

His presence explained the two unnamed operatives and raised far more questions than it answered. 

Tonbo looked toward Hiruzen. 

”Danzō supervises ANBU training,” the Hokage said. ”Like me, he studied under the Second Hokage.” 

”Lord Danzō.” Tonbo inclined his head. 

Danzō returned the greeting without warmth. 

Tonbo kept his expression neutral. Whatever interest the older man had in this mission, it would not be simple.