Naruto: Starting by Reading Minds in Naruto

Zetsu rose from the stone near the summit of Amegakure’s highest tower. Rain slid over the two halves of his body as he stopped beside Pain. 

”I have useful news.” 

The Deva Path did not turn. ”Speak.” 

”In ten days, the Land of Fire’s protective service will send personnel to Konoha for advanced instruction in genjutsu release. I can enter their group and learn the methods being prepared for them.” 

Zetsu had watched Sensory Saturation trap all six Paths and poison their shared link with more information than Nagato could process. In the thousand years since the Sage of Six Paths, each age had produced only a handful of people capable of such genjutsu. Outside a Mangekyō forbidden technique, Zetsu could scarcely imagine its equal. The exchange offered a chance to learn Konoha’s methods of genjutsu release. 1

”Do not allow yourself to be discovered,” Pain said. 

Nagato had already found a countermeasure through his own research. An easier method of release would still give him an advantage in battle. 

Nagato called himself a god because only overwhelming power could impose order upon the shinobi world. He did not confuse that claim with permission to become careless. The Five Great Nations had survived generations of war by producing new weapons whenever old assumptions failed. 

”Information is what I do best,” Zetsu said. 

His body sank through the roof and disappeared. Pain remained above the village, listening to rain that no longer felt entirely beyond deception. 

At Training Ground 98, a three-meter wall of packed earth waited before Tonbo. He prepared his new technique. 

”Illusion Body: Reinforced Frame.” 

Chakra entered the pathways of his right arm while a second current reached the motor centers of his brain. The genjutsu did not tell him the limb was stronger. It gave his nervous system a precise set of false instructions, then used Yin Release and Living Weave to impose a temporary support structure over what already existed. 

His right arm darkened as the new structure took shape. It followed muscle fibers, crossed joints, braced bone, and anchored tendons along calculated lines. Tonbo closed his hand. Every part of the arm contracted in a single coordinated instant. 

He struck. Air compressed before his knuckles. A shallow cone appeared in the wall before physical contact, then the fist drove through it. Earth burst outward. Cracks raced from the point of impact, and the entire structure collapsed into a cloud of dust that tore furrows through the ground behind it. 

Pain arrived a heartbeat later. Something snapped near Tonbo’s shoulder. Ligaments tore under recoil, bone fractured, and the arm dropped uselessly to his side as the lattice dissolved. He caught his breath, placed his left hand over the injury, and activated Mystical Palm Technique for emergency stabilization. 

”Still unbalanced,” he said through clenched teeth. 

Reinforced Frame had succeeded within the arm. The added system of support drew inspiration from structures recorded in animals: the lifting efficiency of ants, the explosive joints of mantis shrimp, and the stored force of a frog’s legs. Living Weave reproduced those principles as a second anatomy connected to his own. 

His shoulder had not shared the improvement. The strike already rivaled Tsunade’s monstrous strength, perhaps even exceeded it. With further development, driving a kunai through Susanoo might cease to be a fantasy. The rest of his body remained responsible for absorbing the reaction. Enhancing one link merely transferred failure to the next. 

That made the present technique forbidden in practice, if not yet in classification. One use disabled the limb; without immediate healing, repeated testing would leave permanent damage. The Eight Gates also purchased power by sacrificing the body, but their danger was understood. Tonbo’s new method did not yet possess reliable limits. 

He recorded the result with his left hand and walked toward Konoha Hospital. The medical staff recognized him before he reached the treatment room. This was at least his tenth visit in five days. All those injuries had come from developing his own technique. 

Tonbo had absorbed the portions of medical study relevant to muscles, bones, nerves, and chakra circulation with dangerous enthusiasm. He could perform first aid and understand a diagnosis; he could not replace a trained medic, nor master the whole discipline merely because one branch served his research. 

The women treating him talked among themselves. ”A jōnin who keeps getting injured inside the village? Have we been invaded?” 

”He’s handsome. I want to ask how to reach him.” 

”He has a wife and two children.” 

”So? Even the quickest shinobi can be caught.” 

Tonbo finally sent his admirers away. Tonbo decided the replacement bandages needed to be finished soon; anonymity had practical value. After treatment, he remained on a bed with the arm immobilized and a medical text open across his knees. The door opened before he completed a page. Orderlies carried in Chōza Akimichi, whose enormous body made the hospital bed look temporary. 

Tonbo closed the book. ”Chōza?” Chōza turned his head and managed a tired smile. Bandages crossed his torso, and bruising darkened every visible limb. 

”Tonbo. How did you end up here?” 

”A new technique objected to being tested. What happened to you?” 

”The Three-Tails.” 

Tonbo’s attention sharpened as Chōza lowered his voice. ”It appeared in a lake deep inside the Land of Fire. Our team was ordered to observe and contain the area in case it moved toward settlements. The beast detected us, and containment became a fight.” 

He had consumed the Akimichi clan’s secret medicines and expanded his body to its limits. Even so, the Three-Tails had broken through the team and battered him badly before withdrawing beneath the lake. It had not been defeated. The shinobi had simply proved troublesome enough that the beast preferred isolation to continuing the battle. 

”The location is classified,” Chōza added. ”Do not repeat it.” 

”Then perhaps you should not tell secrets to a man who spends his days extracting them.” 

Chōza chuckled and immediately regretted it. ”I trust you. You have fought beside my clan, lead the Analysis Team, and have a family here. There are few people safer to tell.” 

”What does your technique do?” Chōza asked after the pain passed. ”We are both trapped here. Perhaps I can help.”