Naruto: Starting by Reading Minds in Naruto

The Guardian Twelve stood at the top of a larger organization devoted to the protection of the Fire daimyō. Its formal guard included specialists in taijutsu, ninjutsu, genjutsu, barriers, seals, and secret techniques. The Twelve were selected from that force after severe examination and served as its most visible commanders. 

Konoha supplied some candidates. The Fire Temple supplied others. Noble houses maintained shinobi traditions of their own and sent their most capable heirs. Together they formed the strongest military institution in the Land of Fire outside Konoha itself. 

Assassination attempts were not rare. Rival states, missing-nin, and private interests had all placed prices upon officials at the capital. Few attackers reached the inner estate. A single guard might possess strength comparable to Asuma or Chiriku; as a coordinated body, they combined protections specifically designed to cover one another’s weaknesses. 

One old Konoha record claimed that five members had killed a rampaging tailed beast during the Warring States Period. Killing was not the same challenge as capturing a beast for sealing, but the Five Great Villages could lose many jōnin accomplishing the latter. The record showed how dangerous the daimyō’s guard could be. 

The capital did not rely upon Konoha for everything. Tonbo wondered how much of the eighty-thousand-strong army of the coming war would be drawn from the five countries’ own forces. People who admired Hiruzen’s political skill underestimated the daimyō and his nobles. The great nations had shaped the world since the Warring States Period, even if the hidden villages held its most extraordinary individual fighters. 

Every few years, its guard exchanged instruction with the hidden village or the Fire Temple. The arrangement strengthened the Land of Fire as a whole, but it also reminded Konoha that the government funding it possessed soldiers, intelligence, and priorities beyond the Hokage’s command. 

Controlling the daimyō with a simple genjutsu and taking his country? About as likely as Guy becoming Hokage. 

”And now they want genjutsu release,” Tonbo murmured as he reviewed the briefing at home. 

The request meant the guard had identified a weakness. It also meant its officers expected Konoha to share enough expertise to correct it. Tonbo could respect the discipline of an organization that studied its own deficiencies while still resenting the hours it intended to take from him. 

He anticipated another difficulty. The daimyō was the highest noble in the country, and many families close to his household treated lineage as evidence of worth. Their representatives might accept instruction readily from Kurenai or Murakumo, whose names carried established genjutsu traditions, while questioning why a civilian-born shinobi stood beside them. 

The Sarutobi, Shimura, and Ino–Shika–Chō were unusually approachable for noble families. Without such a name, Tonbo would have to earn recognition through ability. 

Tonbo was not worried. Anyone who came to learn release had already admitted vulnerability to illusion. He had affected the Sharingan and the Rinnegan without possessing either. If arrogance prevented a student from listening, a carefully controlled example could make the lesson memorable. 

The exchange might benefit him as well. The guard recruited techniques from temples and noble houses that did not enter Konoha’s ordinary archives. Chiriku’s Welcoming Approach: Thousand-Armed Murder was one example of an art developed outside the village system. Tonbo would not demand secrets, but observation and professional conversation often revealed principles no formal exchange included. 

At dawn, he kissed Ayame, crouched beside the twins, and surrendered the last illusion of leave. 

”Watch over your mother,” he told Tenyu and Maki. ”I am returning to work against my better judgment.” 

They answered with cheerful noises that offered no sympathy. 

Tonbo greeted neighbors on his way through Konoha and reached the Intelligence Division early. The Analysis Team’s office smelled of paper, sealing ink, and old tea. Inoichi lay asleep across the leader’s desk, one cheek pressed into a stack of harmless requisition forms. 

Tonbo tapped the wood. ”Division Head. Wake up.” 

”Who is interrupting—” 

Inoichi raised his head and stared into pale blue eyes beneath prematurely gray hair. ”Who are you?” 

Tonbo waited. 

Sleep drained from Inoichi’s face. He coughed and straightened the nearest papers. ”Ah. You. Where are those ugly bandages?” 

”Lost during the mission. Their replacement is still being made.” 

Ordinary cloth could cover his face, but it would neither carry Sensory Saturation nor feel as comfortable as the custom material. Carrying such a powerful sealing technique made the bandage much harder to produce than an ordinary sealing scroll. Until then, his uncovered appearance drew enough attention in the street to make him miss anonymity. 

Inoichi decided he preferred the bandages too. The bare face threatened his long-standing claim to be the most handsome man in the Intelligence Division. 

He rose, placed both hands on Tonbo’s shoulders, and guided him toward the desk. 

”Everything here is yours again. Perform admirably. I have been exhausted in your absence.” 

”Spend the recovered time with Ino,” Tonbo said. ”If you miss these years, you may discover later that neither of you knows how to speak to the other.” 

Inoichi looked at him with surprise. ”Fatherhood has made you concerned with everyone else’s children.” 

”The Will of Fire is always shining. I have looked after plenty of children; you simply failed to notice.” 

No wonder Hiruzen was so loved. He kept watch over the whole village—Tonbo, Iruka, Naruto, Kakashi. He was also an old peeper, of course, but he must have seen Tonbo teaching Hana and her two friends. Inoichi, head of Intelligence, had somehow missed such a splendid display of the Will of Fire. What a waste. 

”Then I was negligent,” Inoichi admitted. ”I will make the time.” 

He had sought relief from the extra position because the division consumed too many hours, not because he coveted another title. With Tonbo back, he could lead at the level only he could serve and still return home before Ino fell asleep. 

They began the handover. 

Eight months of records looked formidable until Tonbo examined them. Peacetime had left the Analysis Team with little urgent work. Dokuraku Meguri had accepted temporary teaching duties. Hijiri Shimon had served as a proctor during the most recent Chūnin Exams. Other analysts supported archives, logistics, or ordinary departmental labor while waiting for material worthy of their specialization. 

Even their temporary jobs were easy. Foreign infiltration missions like his were rare. He had chosen well: the Analysis Team was still the best place to retire. 

As places to recover from dangerous work went, the Analysis Team remained difficult to improve upon.