Naruto: Starting by Reading Minds in Naruto

The Akimichi barbecue restaurant was loud with the sound of grilling meat, and Iruka’s team ate like they meant to make up for a lifetime of missed meals.

”Eat all you want. Your captain’s got money enough to cover it,” Tonbo said, popping a piece of grilled meat into his mouth.

”This is amazing. When do we get our first mission, Captain?” Tessen Togekei asked between bites, unable to hide his eagerness.

”I want to learn everything a shinobi can do,” Iruka added. ”So I can teach it properly, someday.”

”Right after we finish eating. Challenging work — perfect for genin fresh out of the Academy.” Tonbo smiled.

”What kind of mission?” Mibu Shinobu leaned forward. ”Something big? Catching enemy spies? Defending the border?”

”Those are child’s play, compared to this one.”

All three went still, eyes burning with anticipation. Could it really be something tied to Konoha’s survival itself?

”It’s difficult. And it matters to the Village’s survival, in its own way.”

That was true enough, as far as it went, though Tonbo suspected they’d already convinced themselves this meant something far grander than it did — perhaps connected to whatever had impressed him about that morning’s exercise.

”Tell us now, Captain.”

”Eat faster if you want to know.”

They ate faster.

A tall, familiar figure approached their table before the mystery could be resolved further, a gentle-looking woman beside him carrying a round-cheeked baby.

”Tonbo! Taking a team out, are you?” Chōza Akimichi grinned at the sight of him.

”Chōza-senpai. Long time. Yes — first team I’ve ever led properly.” Tonbo turned to the baby in the woman’s arms. ”This must be Chōji. Inoichi-senpai mentioned he’s the same age as his daughter.”

Chōji, plump and content, turned toward the sound of his name before his attention drifted immediately to the meat sizzling on the grill.

”Isn’t he? Cutest thing in Konoha,” Chōza said, beaming.

”He’s got your build already, senpai. Give him time and he’ll be carrying this whole Village on his back.” Tonbo had always known how to flatter a proud father.

Chōza laughed, delighted. ”Naturally. Look at that frame — just like mine, back in the day. This meal’s on me, by the way.”

”Want,” Chōji said, pointing at the grill, drool threatening to spill over.

”Here, say ’uncle’ first.” Tonbo held a piece of grilled meat to the baby’s mouth.

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”Uncle.”

”Good boy.” Tonbo laughed and let him have it.

Chōza and his wife didn’t object — shinobi constitutions could handle grilled meat at any age, and the boy was clearly enjoying himself. Watching him chew with such single-minded happiness, Tonbo found himself smiling. This one would grow into something remarkable, strong enough one day to use the clan’s greatest technique without needing the pills that usually came with it — an achievement no Akimichi before him had ever managed.

The team greeted Chōza in turn, and the Akimichi family settled at their own table nearby, warm and unhurried.

”Alright. Everyone’s full. Let’s move — mission time,” Tonbo said once the meal wound down.

”Yes, sir!” the three answered, practically vibrating with excitement.

The farmland waited on the edge of the residential district, rows of paddy stretching out under the open sky. Three figures bent over the mud, planting rice seedlings one by one, while Tonbo stood at the field’s edge with a book, glancing up now and then with the look of a man quietly enjoying himself.

”Captain Tonbo,” Mibu Shinobu called out, mud to his elbows, ”our great mission is planting rice?”

”Of course. Shinobi need to eat same as anyone else, don’t they? Starve the Village and there’s no Village left to defend. Feeding a thousand shinobi might matter more than winning a war against some other Village.” Tonbo glanced over only once he’d confirmed none of them were slacking.

”But it’s so boring,” Iruka said, dejected. Was this really what a shinobi’s work looked like?

Tessen Togekei clearly shared the thought, mud-streaked and unconvinced.

”A shinobi endures what can’t be endured. Can’t manage this much, and I’m not handing you anything harder,” Tonbo said, feigning irritation. ”And weren’t you supposed to be the top student at the Academy?”

That landed. All three straightened, indignant.

”Captain, I had perfect marks in theory. Don’t underestimate me,” Iruka said. He’d worked hard for those marks, chasing the dream of becoming a teacher worth respecting.

”Theory’s one thing. Who told you farming wasn’t shinobi work? It’s not just part of the job — it’s an important part,” Tonbo said, closing his book with the air of a man delivering settled wisdom.

”What’s the actual use of it, though?” Tessen Togekei pressed, and the others nodded along. Beyond teaching patience, what exactly was the point?

”Fine. First lesson, then. Listen carefully.”

”Go on,” they said, still fairly certain he was making this up as he went.

”First — chakra is physical and mental energy refined together, and work like this builds the mental half.” A fair point, though not one that made rice-planting any more special than half a dozen other assignments, and they said as much with their expressions.

”Second — shinobi work depends on cover identities for intelligence gathering, and a farmer who can actually farm makes for a convincing one.” That drew open scoffing; nothing in the Academy’s espionage lessons had ever mentioned farming as useful cover, and none of them could see how it would gather anything worth knowing.

”Third—”

There was a third reason. The three of them waited, curious how far he intended to stretch this.

”If everyone else in the Village does their part and you three don’t, it undermines the unity Konoha depends on. That’s how a Village starts coming apart at the seams — so you’ll do your part, same as everyone else.”

He’d meant to press further, gesturing at the neighboring team also bent over their own paddy, but the memory that rose with the gesture belonged to another life entirely, one that wasn’t fully his own — a fragment in which a team much like this one had accepted exactly this kind of reasoning without a second thought. He couldn’t quite recall why it had worked so easily there and seemed to be landing so poorly here.

Iruka, unexpectedly, was the one who broke first. ”So that’s it — this is the Will of Fire the Third talked about. Training it in us. Should have known, Captain. A man who can lead like this clearly carries it himself.”

”Exactly right. Can’t be the only ones falling behind, either.” Mibu Shinobu’s hands, ankle-deep in mud, found new purpose. ”For the Will of Fire!”

”Yosh! Behold my Rice-Planting Technique of Unbreakable Will!” Tessen Togekei declared, eyes shining.

Tonbo said nothing.

Whatever half-formed argument he’d been building toward, it hadn’t worked half as well as three sincere words from an old man who actually believed them.