Naruto: Starting by Reading Minds in Naruto

At Konoha’s main gate, Izumo Kamizuki and Kotetsu Hagane processed merchants, travelers, and returning shinobi. Izumo looked up from the register when four familiar figures appeared on the road. 

Hayama led them, ponytail shifting behind him and sword across his back. Tonbo, Anko, and Itachi followed in flak jackets marked by three months of border duty. 

Izumo nudged his partner. ”Hayama and Tonbo were assigned together. How did those two earn the same mission?” 

Kotetsu watched their former classmates approach. ”They travel the border while we remain at this gate. There is no justice in the world.” 

Their complaints were mostly habit. Gate duty placed them at one of Konoha’s most important points of contact and required judgment about everyone who entered, but importance did not make the routine exciting. A returning caravan meant another manifest; a returning patrol meant another debriefing entry. Hayama and Tonbo at least brought news from beyond the walls. 

”Old friends,” Tonbo called. ”Gate duty again? I keep waiting for my turn, but no one grants me such an easy assignment.” 

Hayama offered the two guards a restrained smile and nod. 

Izumo completed the team’s return registration. ”Spare us. I would rather travel through foreign lands than record cargo permits all day.” 

”I would not. Between the Analysis Team and this post, I choose the gate. Travel is exhausting, and my wife is never waiting at the end of a foreign road.” 

The mention of Ayame sharpened Tonbo’s impatience to finish the debriefing and go home. 

He had received brief replies to his messages, enough to know that she and the child remained healthy. Written reassurance had not quieted every worry. Three months could change a pregnancy quickly, and no sensory technique allowed him to confirm her condition from the border. 

”Brother!” 

A small child with spiky black hair emerged from the nearby crowd and ran toward Itachi. His short legs carried him three quick steps before one sandal landed on a loose stone. Fear crossed his face as he pitched forward. 

Itachi appeared in front of him and caught him before his hands reached the ground. 

”Sasuke, be careful,” he said, lifting the boy into his arms. 

Mikoto Uchiha followed at a calmer pace, laughing softly behind one hand. ”He heard you were returning today and insisted on waiting here.” 

She turned to Hayama. ”Thank you for looking after my son.” 

”Itachi was my teammate, not my student,” Hayama replied. ”He required very little protection. His ability justifies everything people say about the Uchiha clan’s prodigy.” 

Sasuke’s eyes widened with pride. ”Big Brother is the best.” 

”He is adorable,” Anko said. She stepped forward and reached for his cheek. 

Sasuke slapped her hand aside and buried his face against Itachi’s shoulder, peering at her from safety. 

Anko forced a smile. ”I am your brother’s teammate. I protected him during the mission. Surely that earns one little pinch?” 

Sasuke hid farther. 

”Be polite to Anko-senpai,” Itachi told him. 

”No.” 

Anko stared at the child in defeat. 

Tonbo decided to attempt a different method. He took several thin strips of reed and woven fiber from a pouch, then folded and twisted them beneath Sasuke’s curious gaze. Feet appeared first, followed by legs, a small torso, and a carefully shaped head. 

Within minutes Tonbo held a miniature woven Itachi. 

The likeness was simplified but recognizable: the same dark hair, the same forehead protector, and the same composed posture reduced to a figure small enough for Sasuke’s palm. Tonbo even shaped a tiny Uchiha crest across its back, using darker fibers saved for the final detail. 

Sasuke leaned away from his brother far enough to see it clearly. His eyes brightened. ”Big Brother.” 

”Exactly,” Tonbo said. ”Play with me for a moment, and it belongs to you.” 

Anko ground her teeth. Once again Tonbo possessed a useful skill she had never thought to learn. She began considering whether a craft might help her with children before remembering how much three-color dango the supplies would cost. 

Sasuke studied the figurine, plainly wanting it. ”No.” 

His eyes never left the tiny Itachi. 

Tonbo fell silent. Anko’s disappointment vanished so quickly that she laughed. 

”The great analyst has been defeated by a three-year-old.” 

The gate guards and nearby travelers smiled at the exchange. The Uchiha they usually encountered through the Police Force carried themselves with guarded severity. It was difficult to reconcile those officers with the child clinging possessively to his brother. 

Mikoto noticed the attention and did not withdraw. For once, the eyes upon her family held amusement rather than suspicion. Sasuke cared only about Itachi and the toy; the simplicity of his refusal softened the formal distance that usually followed the clan through the village. 

Itachi watched their reactions. Ordinary villagers were capable of looking upon an Uchiha with warmth. The distance between clan and village had been built over years, but perhaps it could still be reduced through ordinary moments like this. 

Tonbo refused to accept defeat. He lifted Sasuke from Itachi’s arms, supporting the child’s back and holding him at eye level. ”You can refuse to play with me, but you are keeping the gift.” 

He pressed the figurine into Sasuke’s hand. 

For Tonbo, the moment carried an absurd private satisfaction. The furious, powerful shinobi Sasuke might one day become was currently small enough to hold with one arm. Future legends were far less intimidating before they learned to speak in complete sentences. 

He had once encountered these people only as distant figures whose decisions led toward catastrophe. Living beside them changed the scale. Itachi was an exhausted child trying to solve an adult conflict. Sasuke was a toddler who wanted a figure of his brother. Knowing their future did not make their present less ordinary. 

Sasuke stared at Tonbo’s bandaged face from an unfamiliar distance. His mouth opened, his eyes filled, and then he began to wail. 

He did not release the figurine. 

Everyone looked at Tonbo. 

Mikoto maintained a strained smile. During the mission she had worried about how hardship might affect Itachi; now she wondered whether this strange teammate had spent three months encouraging his worst habits. 

Itachi’s suspicions were confirmed. Tonbo was a powerful, thoughtful shinobi with a genuine Will of Fire—and an inexplicable need to provoke people who could not stop him. 

Perhaps small flaws made his ideals more human. Itachi was not entirely convinced. 

”Bad man,” Sasuke cried. 

Tonbo returned him to Itachi without changing expression. ”All right. Back to your brother. The figurine remains yours, despite your terrible manners.” 

Safe again, Sasuke clutched Itachi’s vest with one hand and the woven figure with the other. His tears stopped almost immediately. He examined the little copy with complete happiness, a trace of mucus still beneath his nose. 

Tonbo’s thoughts returned to home. Ayame would give birth in approximately seven months. Their child would surely be even more charming than Sasuke, and Tonbo intended to enjoy every year before adulthood turned simple affection into arguments and pride. 

He had been away for three months. The Hokage could have his report; after that, the rest of the day belonged to his family.