Naruto: Starting by Reading Minds in Naruto

Tonbo left Shimon and walked toward the Hokage Tower with both hands behind his head.

”A temporary appointment created that much distance. What would happen if I became Hokage in truth?”

Shimon’s reverence felt like a curse attached to the office. As Analysis Team leader, Tonbo had received his respect, but the pride of an old teammate remained visible beneath it. They had fought in the same trenches and survived the same missions.

The title of Hokage seemed to have pushed those memories a hundred thousand miles away. Shimon could now boast that he once served beside the Hokage, yet no longer behave as if they still stood side by side.

Tonbo found the change deeply uncomfortable.

Despite his strength and position, he remained an ordinary person who wanted familiar people to speak naturally. Most acquaintances would probably react as Shimon had. Only family and powerful peers such as Kakashi might ignore the distance.

To everyone else, Tonbo risked becoming a story rather than a companion: *I once served with the Hokage. I once fought beside the Hokage.* The boast would preserve the fact and erase the relationship. Each repetition placed the speaker farther from the person he claimed to know.

No wonder rulers so often became lonely. Fortunately, Tonbo’s office had not reached that extreme, and he intended to abandon it before it did.

In a dark cavern, seven-colored projections formed a circle.

”Orochimaru certainly knows how to create trouble,” Hidan said. ”Konoha suffered enormous losses. Are we truly not going after the Nine-Tails?”

He wanted another massacre and did not bother concealing it.

”The preparations are incomplete,” Pain replied. ”We will wait a little longer. The proper time is approaching.”

Konoha’s weakness was tempting, but an early attack on the Nine-Tails could expose Akatsuki before its members were positioned to collect the remaining jinchūriki. Pain had no intention of trading the larger plan for Hidan’s desire to kill during a brief opening.

Kakuzu considered the wider problem. ”We still need the jinchūriki’s location, and we must prevent the Five Great Nations from uniting. If they cooperate before collection begins, the plan becomes much more difficult.”

Sasori turned toward Zetsu. ”Have you found Orochimaru, or has he escaped your surveillance again? The invasion created an ideal opening.”

Deidara answered before Zetsu could.

”Why the hurry, Sasori? Between the two of us, the legendary sannin would die before our art. Orochimaru is only a remnant of an old age.”

Once Orochimaru witnessed true art, Deidara believed, the traitor would enter the Pure Land regretting his betrayal of Akatsuki.

”Do not underestimate him,” Zetsu said. ”He survived the Second and Third Shinobi World Wars. The strength he displays openly is not the whole of him. Without Pain’s intervention, recruiting him would not have been easy.”

Deidara remained unimpressed. ”Living on old glory does not make him great.”

Sasori disliked the interruption more than the boast. Orochimaru had abandoned Akatsuki and kept the ring that marked his membership. The insult was personal, and Sasori wanted the former partner dead by his own hands rather than consumed by Deidara’s performance.

”Enough,” Sasori said. ”Do you have his location?”

Zetsu spread his hands. ”No. He left no confirmed trail. The man is too cunning.”

”Useless. If there is nothing else, we are leaving.”

Sasori’s projection disappeared. Deidara followed him with a hurried complaint.

Zetsu shook his head. ”No respect for the organization’s discipline.”

Kakuzu had also lost interest. ”We have a valuable contract. Hidan, move.”

The two vanished together.

Itachi remained silent while the meeting emptied. His dark eyes followed every argument and departure without revealing what he thought about Konoha, Naruto, or the chaos Orochimaru had created.

Konoha had survived the invasion and Itachi’s own visit, but Hiruzen was dead and Kakashi had fallen beneath Tsukuyomi. Every Akatsuki member saw opportunity in those losses. Itachi gave them neither encouragement nor information beyond what his role required.

Far away, snakes hissed through an underground tunnel.

At its end, dim lamps illuminated Orochimaru’s laboratory. Kabuto pushed his glasses higher as he delivered the latest report.

”Lord Orochimaru, our strongholds in Rice Country can no longer be used. Konoha’s Acting Hokage has sent a force led by Aburame Shibi to the border. They are pressuring the daimyō to dissolve Otogakure and allow a search for you.”

Orochimaru laughed softly despite the pain in his arms. ”Rice Country will not dare confront Fire Country directly. Have our people withdrawn?”

”The evacuation is complete. They dispersed through different routes. Even a capable pursuer will find only pawns who were not valuable enough to serve as test subjects.”

Useful researchers, experimental records, viable bodies, and trained agents had already moved. The people left behind knew only pieces or carried false destinations. Konoha could arrest them, question them, and announce success without touching Orochimaru’s essential network.

The abandoned personnel and facilities could occupy Konoha without exposing anything essential.

”And Tsunade?”

”We found her. Shall we depart now?”

”Prepare everything. I will need her to restore these hands.”

The Reaper Death Seal’s damage burned through Orochimaru’s arms without pause. The pain exceeded what ordinary shinobi discipline could suppress.

Kabuto lowered his eyes. ”If my medical ninjutsu were better, you would not have to risk meeting someone like her.”

He had tried every treatment available to him. The damage did not behave like injured flesh. The Shinigami had taken the function of Orochimaru’s arms at the level of the soul, beyond ordinary cellular repair. Admitting the limit felt like admitting he had failed the person who gave him purpose.

”No. Your ability is excellent. I have told you before: you are the finest gift heaven ever gave me. You are more useful than anyone—even Kimimaro, even Sasuke.”

Orochimaru’s gaze held complete sincerity.

”Go. Prepare the medicine that eases the pain.”

”Yes, Lord Orochimaru.”

Kabuto smiled faintly and withdrew.

Orochimaru watched him leave. He had not lied. Kabuto possessed the greatest talent he had ever seen, but the boy’s purpose remained vague and dependent on other people. If he found a goal truly his own, he might someday surpass Orochimaru.

A new flare of burning crossed the damaged pathways. Orochimaru hissed through his teeth, seized by the urge to destroy something merely to answer the pain.

Kabuto walked the long passage toward the medicine room. His shadow stretched beneath each lamp.

*More useful than Kimimaro and Sasuke.*

The praise filled him with strength even while he recognized its limit. To Orochimaru, a perfect reincarnation vessel carried an importance Kabuto could never match. Kimimaro’s bloodline and Sasuke’s Sharingan made their bodies irreplaceable. Kabuto possessed no comparable kekkei genkai.

Yet Orochimaru needed him. For a person whose identity and goals remained indistinct, that need created warmth. Kabuto never tired of hearing it.

He knew the praise was also a method. Orochimaru understood exactly which words steadied a subordinate without a stable self. Knowing that did not cancel their effect. Manipulation and sincerity could occupy the same sentence when the speaker truly valued usefulness above every other bond.

He reached the laboratory and began preparing the medicine. Whatever place he occupied among Orochimaru’s instruments, he would not betray the trust given to him.