Naruto: Starting by Reading Minds in Naruto

Bringer-of-Darkness belonged to a branch of genjutsu unlike the methods Tonbo already understood. 

Visual illusions entered an opponent’s chakra network through sight. Auditory genjutsu used sound as its carrier. Bringer-of-Darkness spread chakra through an area much like ninjutsu, yet imposed an illusion rather than producing a physical effect. Integrating it into his personal system would require more than a few days of experimentation. 

Tonbo refused to consume all his time forcing an answer. He practiced the technique for a short period each day, recorded what he learned, and allowed experience to accumulate. His principal research remained visual and auditory genjutsu, along with the mind-affecting principles he had begun studying through his duties in the Analysis Team. 

Eightfold Flavor was one practical result: sound carried his chakra to the target and distorted the senses of taste and smell. Bringer-of-Darkness might eventually become another component, but only after he understood how to combine its field with the precision his other techniques required. 

”It hurts!” 

Saiji dropped beside the stone pillar and clutched his foot. Tears gathered in his eyes as he glared at the surface that had defeated him again. For an instant, he appeared ready to attack it with his clan’s secret technique. 

Then he glanced at Tonbo, who sat nearby practicing his harmonica, and reconsidered. 

Shikun was equally exhausted. Sweat had soaked his shirt and flattened his carefully parted hair. Precise chakra control demanded a patience neither boy had expected. 

”Keep trying,” Hana called. ”I’m starting to understand it.” 

She placed one foot against the pillar, then the other. For several steps she walked horizontally, her body held at a perfect right angle to the stone. 

”See? It isn’t—” 

Her chakra fluctuated. She fell onto the grass with a thud, then sat up grinning. 

”How did you do that?” Saiji asked. 

Shikun leaned closer, waiting for the secret. 

”You gather the chakra like this, then hold it like that, and when it feels right, you step.” 

The boys stared at her. Hana’s explanation meant absolutely nothing to them. 

A new melody drifted across the plateau. 

Heat bloomed at the backs of their throats and rushed upward, sharp enough to strip away every trace of fatigue. All three children sprang upright, coughing and blinking tears from their eyes. 

”Work hard,” Tonbo said, raising the harmonica. ”Once you master the exercise, you may leave. Otherwise...” 

He played one ominous note. 

”Yes, sir!” they answered together. 

The sensation faded quickly, but the memory remained. They attacked the pillar with renewed determination. 

Tonbo watched them between musical exercises. Hana possessed good instincts and fine chakra control. She would master the first stage soon. Shikun and Saiji were another matter. Their output varied wildly, and neither recognized his own mistakes until after falling. 

He called the boys over one at a time and pressed two fingers against each ankle while they formed chakra. Shikun’s bursts came too sharply; Saiji let his concentration disperse whenever he anticipated a fall. Tonbo assigned different rhythms to their breathing and sent them back to the wall. Neither transformed immediately, but both managed one additional step. 

They would not finish today. 

That did not trouble him. He had adopted the children as an incidental training project, not promised to turn them into legendary shinobi before sunset. If they returned and continued working, gradual improvement would be enough. 

”Big brother, is the bad uncle really here?” 

Sasuke walked through Training Ground 98 with his small hand wrapped around Itachi’s. He searched the open paths and surrounding forest while carrying the woven Itachi figure Tonbo had made. Its polished threads flashed whenever sunlight crossed them. 

”You call him a bad uncle,” Itachi said, smiling, ”but you are the one who wanted to find him.” 

”The brother he made is handsome.” 

Sasuke held the figure up as proof. Its surface had grown smoother from weeks of play. 

Itachi’s smile lingered when he looked at it, then faded into his usual composure. The shadows beneath his eyes had deepened over the past two months. Missions and the pressure within his clan had forced him to mature even faster than before. 

Sasuke noticed the exhaustion without understanding its cause. To him, Itachi remained capable of anything. That certainty was why each interruption mattered so much: every mission carried away the person around whom his small world revolved. 

”He trains here almost every day,” Itachi said. ”If he is in the village, we should find him.” 

”Why can the bad uncle train every day when you always have missions?” 

Sasuke would have been content merely to watch his brother practice, but Itachi was absent more often than he was home. 

”Because I am still a genin. I need experience as well as strength, so I receive many assignments. When I become a jōnin, I may have more time for you.” 

”Like Father?” 

”Something like that.” 

A broad shadow swallowed the path. Sasuke looked up and stopped walking. The massive wall of earth towered above the trees, its summit almost lost against the bright sky. 

”What’s that?” 

Itachi could distinguish Tonbo sitting on the upper edge, harmonica raised to his mouth. ”An Earth Release technique. He must be training.” 

From above, Tonbo sensed two familiar chakra signatures entering his range. The Uchiha maintained their own training grounds, so Itachi had little reason to come here by accident. 

Moments later, the brothers reached the base of the wall. 

”Tonbo-senpai,” Itachi called. 

Tonbo stepped over the edge. He dropped dozens of meters and landed before them as softly as a falling leaf. 

Sasuke retreated behind his brother, eyes wide. The bad uncle was strange, but that had been impressive. 

”Itachi!” Tonbo said. ”Did you need something? And why have you stopped calling me big brother?” 

Embarrassment flickered across Itachi’s face. After their time apart, the familiar address felt increasingly awkward. ”Please don’t tease me, senpai. My little brother wanted to see you.” 

Tonbo noticed the figure in Sasuke’s hand. ”I thought you had come to spar. I developed several new genjutsu, and a Sharingan wielder would make an excellent test subject.” 

Itachi went still. His skill had improved markedly, but he had not discovered a reliable way to break Tonbo’s illusions. His chakra reserves also remained too limited for several countermeasures he wished to attempt. 

”Perhaps another time,” he said carefully. 

Sasuke peeked around his leg and raised the toy. ”Bad uncle, I want more brothers like this one.” 

”I can arrange that. But first, your uncle gets a hug.” 

Tonbo crouched and swept the nearly four-year-old boy into his arms before either brother could object. Sasuke squirmed furiously, but one of Tonbo’s arms held him in place without effort. 

”Let go!” 

”Hold still. I am making your reinforcements.” 

With his free hand, Tonbo drew weaving strands from his tool pouch. His fingers moved in a blur. Within seconds, several miniature versions of Itachi rested in his palm: one standing with a kunai, one seated in thought, another preparing a shuriken, and one with its arms folded in perfect imitation of Itachi’s solemn posture. 

Sasuke stopped struggling. 

His eyes grew brighter with every new figure.