Naruto: Starting by Reading Minds in Naruto

”Those three?”

Tonbo lifted his cup in the Konoha izakaya. ”They’re adequate. Barely chūnin. Come back when they make jōnin, and then I’ll be impressed.”

Talent, he had learned, placed hard limits on most lives. In breadth of ninjutsu knowledge, Tonbo believed he now approached Hiruzen in everything except certain forbidden techniques. He had studied his students closely, organized what he knew, and tailored his instruction to each of them. Their progress had been fast by ordinary standards, but they were still not geniuses. Without an unexpected breakthrough, ordinary jōnin would probably be their ceiling.

Hijiri Shimon stared at him. ”You aren’t satisfied? They’re fourteen. They have years to grow. I’m seventeen and still a chūnin—I may never become a jōnin.”

He looked at Tonbo with open envy. His friend learned at an absurd pace and, judging by the careers of all three former students, taught nearly as well.

”Enough,” Shimon said. ”To your return to the Analysis Team.”

Their cups met with a bright clink.

Tonbo drank happily. This was the life he wanted: a wife, a father, friends, comrades, former students, and a superior willing to leave him alone most of the time. He had none of the suspicion or betrayal that haunted Konoha’s highest offices.

The Analysis Team was especially comfortable. Its members read memories, organized intelligence, and submitted reports. There was little glory and even less reason for colleagues to scheme against one another.

The two men continued talking until Ayame arrived, caught Tonbo by the ear, and dragged him home.

”Drinking again?” she demanded once they reached the house. ”Do you remember that you live here?”

”It was professional communication. Maintaining good relations with colleagues is essential.”

Marriage had changed Ayame in subtle ways. She was no longer merely the girl behind Ichiraku’s counter. She carried herself like the mistress of their household, warm but increasingly willing to challenge her husband’s worst habits. Tonbo suspected that living with him had made her bolder than she would otherwise have become.

Her stern expression suddenly softened, and color rose into her cheeks.

”Dragonfly, we still need to do something improper tonight.”

”Improper?”

Tonbo saw her embarrassment and understood. If she wanted a child, she could simply say so. They retired early to continue the family line.

Later, at Training Ground 98, six kunai flashed through the air and embedded themselves at carefully selected points—in trees, beside the river, and deep in the earth. Each carried a prepared talisman.

Tonbo stood at the center of the formation.

”Barrier Technique: Sealed Horizon Barrier.”

He began a sequence of more than a hundred hand seals. Chakra poured from his body and traveled through the six anchors. The talismans answered one another, lines of force connecting until a translucent boundary enclosed the entire training ground.

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Tonbo formed the final seal. The boundary folded inward, and without sound or impact, Training Ground 98 vanished.

To an outside observer, the trees, river, slopes, and paths had been replaced by a broad stretch of empty, level earth. Birds in the neighboring branches stared at the impossible absence, cried in alarm, and fled in a disordered flock.

Beneath the visible world, a phantom shell enclosed the missing land. Only Tonbo could see its pale outline. Inside, nothing had been damaged. The river flowed at the same pace, the trees stood undisturbed, and sunlight still reached the ground. Tonbo remained at the center of the training field exactly where he had begun.

The only meaningful difference was the boundary. The space within the shell had been separated from what lay beyond it. From outside, there was only vacant ground. From inside, the training ground continued as though nothing had happened.

”More than two years,” Tonbo murmured. ”And it finally works.”

The Sealed Horizon Barrier combined barrier ninjutsu with fūinjutsu and spatial principles. He had designed it to protect his family from the devastating attack Pain would one day bring against Konoha. Without a suitable space-time ability, striking through the boundary from outside should be impossible.

Whether Flying Thunder God or Kamui could penetrate it remained uncertain. Kamui would probably fail without a coordinate inside the separated space. Flying Thunder God, on the other hand, should work if a marked location remained within the barrier. The distinction required testing, but very few shinobi possessed either technique.

The greater problem was scale. His current formation covered only one training ground. Enclosing all of Konoha would demand official approval, extensive preparation, and cooperation from the village leadership. Hiruzen was too cautious to authorize something so disruptive. Tonbo would probably have to wait until Tsunade became Hokage.

”The disturbance came from here.”

Voices reached him from outside the boundary. Three members of the Uchiha Police Force approached the empty land and stopped in disbelief. An entire training ground had disappeared, yet the bare earth before them looked solid and real.

Tonbo watched from inside the barrier. One of the newcomers was Uchiha Shisui, which presented an excellent test: could the Sharingan’s perception detect the barrier?

Shisui crouched, rubbed dirt between his fingers, and surveyed the boundary.

”Could an enormous Earth Release technique have leveled the area?” one officer asked.

”No,” Shisui said. ”The ground hasn’t been moved that way.”

His three-tomoe Sharingan appeared.

He examined the vanished training ground, searching for residual chakra and physical inconsistencies. The longer he looked, the deeper his frown became. A river reached one side of the flat expanse, seemed to pass into another space, and emerged at a distant point without ever crossing the exposed ground.

Shisui walked to the water’s edge. Up close, the current seemed perfectly ordinary, as if the hidden segment of river still occupied the place where it had always been.

”Genjutsu?”

He disrupted his chakra. Nothing changed. The other two officers tried the same release and found no illusion to break.

”What happened here?” one asked. ”Could this be an enemy attack?”

The fleeing birds proved that the change had been sudden. Yet a spy seeking secrecy would hardly erase an entire training ground in sight of Konoha. Shisui made his decision. ”We report this to Hokage-sama.”

”Why involve him? Patrolling the village is the Police Force’s responsibility. We should investigate it ourselves.”

”The Uchiha clan’s responsibilities are Konoha’s responsibilities,” Shisui replied. ”This concerns the village.”

The answer did not please his companions. Shisui had heard the growing bitterness within the clan, in complaints about the Hokage and demands for the Uchiha to act independently. Each new sign of division saddened him.

Before the argument could continue, Ayame approached carrying a bento box.

”Dragonfly! I brought your lunch.”

She rounded the last bend and stopped.

The familiar training ground was gone. In its place stood three severe-looking officers of the Uchiha Police Force.

Ayame’s smile disappeared. Tears gathered in her eyes.

”You’re with the Police Force,” she said. ”Where is my husband?”

Tonbo had told her he would be testing a new technique here. Now the field had been erased and he was nowhere in sight.

Had they arrested him? The thought broke the last of her composure, and tears spilled down her cheeks.