Naruto: Starting by Reading Minds in Naruto

Shikamaru listened to Kiba and Naruto argue about the Hokage’s office and wondered why anyone wanted it.

The position meant reports, disputes, dangerous decisions, and two classmates announcing themselves as rivals before they understood long division. A quiet chūnin career, an ordinary marriage, and enough time to watch clouds sounded better.

Kiba completed his explanation of Throat Guarding Technique before Iruka ended the run. Half the class planned to ask older siblings for help. The other half intended to master it secretly and surprise Iruka the next time his whistle appeared.

Iruka gathered them on the grass. He corrected two errors in Kiba’s version, emphasized that the technique reduced a sensory pathway rather than making anyone immune to genjutsu, and assigned the leaf concentration exercise as a prerequisite.

”A counter is not permission to misbehave,” he said.

Naruto whispered, ”It helps.”

”I heard that.”

After the lesson, Tonbo spent his final free evening walking through Konoha with Ayame. Tōsei kept the twins at Ichiraku, where washing bowls had become part of their chakra practice and an opportunity to eat ingredients when adults looked elsewhere.

”How long?” Ayame asked.

”Travel, trial, and return should take several weeks. Weather may extend it.”

”You say that while leaving to study weather.”

”I promise not to make the journey longer merely to improve my notes.”

She linked her arm through his. ”That promise contains too many qualifications.”

Tonbo told her about the contract, team, and evacuation authority. He omitted no known danger, including the valley currents strong enough to kill an adult. Ayame had never asked him to pretend missions were safe. She asked for preparation, communication, and a husband who returned when the objective ended.

”The twins will test every rule while you’re gone,” she said.

”They test every rule while I am present.”

”Yes, but they will claim your absence creates uncertainty.”

”Tell them uncertainty favors the person enforcing the rule.”

They found Tenyu and Maki waiting at home despite the late hour. Tōsei had packed Tonbo’s preserved food while the twins added objects they considered essential: a wooden frog, two sweets already missing their wrappers, and a drawing of Tonbo defeating the fictional dragon.

”This is mission equipment,” Tenyu said.

”The frog has no function.”

”It reminds you to come home.”

Tonbo placed it in the pack. ”Function accepted.”

Maki made him promise not to teach the wind any technique before teaching her the black-arm punch. Tonbo promised only to return and begin their preparation program at the agreed age. She regarded the distinction with appropriate suspicion.

Ayame laughed. They bought sweets for the children and stayed outside until the lamps came on.

Five days later, Tonbo reached the eastern gate before the appointed time. His three chūnin waited with travel packs and mission equipment.

Hyūga Atsushi belonged to the branch family and had years of border-watch experience. Inuzuka Tsuyoshi stood beside Gaku, a broad gray ninken whose calm expression contrasted with his partner’s restless nose. Aburame Shikyō carried two additional insect gourds suited to high wind.

Tonbo knew them from personnel files rather than friendship. He conducted a short communications drill before departure. Atsushi would call clock positions from Tonbo’s orientation rather than his own. Shikyō assigned distinct insect pulses for child found, injury, route blocked, and unknown chakra. Tsuyoshi demonstrated Gaku’s three warning barks. The exercise took four minutes and prevented four people from discovering incompatible habits during an emergency.

”Report capabilities,” he said.

Atsushi could maintain wide Byakugan sweeps for twelve minutes before accuracy declined. Tsuyoshi and Gaku tracked scent across broken ground and could distinguish fear, blood, and several poisons. Shikyō’s kikaichū could form anchored chains, transmit changes in air pressure, and recover small objects.

”Our senses confirm one another,” Tonbo said. ”They do not compete. If one method finds something the others miss, report the observation before explaining it.”

”You’re late,” a man called from the road.

Tonbo checked the gate clock. They were seven minutes early.

Hagoromo Kento stood beside a polished carriage wearing formal travel clothes and narrow spectacles. The clan crest—a full moon above three trailing ribbons—marked his coat. Servants and guards arranged more than a dozen wagons behind him.

”The contract states noon,” Tonbo said. ”It is eleven fifty-three.”

”A paid escort should arrive early enough to receive instructions.”

”We have. Begin.”

Kento appeared disappointed by the absence of apology. He explained that Hagoromo Trading had supplied transport, food, camp staff, and ten household guards. Konoha’s team would ride outside the lead carriage, maintain vigilance, and assume trial duty upon arrival.

”Everything except shinobi protection has been arranged,” he said. ”You need only perform the task for which we hired you.”

The contempt beneath the courtesy was clear. Tonbo did not answer it. An employer’s opinion did not alter the mission unless it became an unsafe order.

He asked for the candidate roster, medical histories, trial maps, and names of household guards authorized to issue logistical instructions. Kento had brought all four. His irritation did not prevent competence.

”You will receive private clan details at the estate,” Kento said. ”Until then, the children are numbers on your route list.”

”During evacuation, names reduce confusion.”

”During travel, leaked names create targets.”

Tonbo accepted the compromise. The director’s arrogance rested beside a genuine understanding of security; neither erased the other.

The convoy departed.

Fields gave way to woodland beyond Konoha’s outer farms. Household guards rode at the front, rear, and midpoint. Cargo wagons carried textiles beneath waxed covers, camp supplies, and sealed trial equipment. The lead carriage’s luxury made it conspicuous, but three guards carried transformation seals capable of creating false occupants if an ambush targeted Kento directly.

Tonbo noted the arrangement without asking to inspect proprietary seals. Kento had purchased support, not surrendered command of his people.

Atsushi activated his Byakugan for an initial inspection. Shikyō released insects beneath the wagons and along the road edges. Tsuyoshi and Gaku sampled air from the convoy, horses, cargo, and surrounding woods.

Tonbo extended his perception across all thirty travelers. Ten household guards possessed trained chakra. Kento himself carried reserves comparable to a chūnin, though his movements suggested long-disused practice. No concealed signature appeared inside the cargo.

”No anomaly,” Atsushi reported.

”None,” Shikyō agreed.

Tsuyoshi’s nose twitched. ”I found something.”

The other three turned toward him.

He raised one finger. ”The employer is grilling beef inside the carriage.”

Tonbo waited.

”That is all,” Tsuyoshi added.

”Next time, lead with the category. ’Food scent, no threat.’ Delayed context can redirect the entire team’s attention.”

Tsuyoshi nodded, chastened. Gaku looked at the carriage with more practical interest.

The window opened. Smoke did not escape; a seal drew it into a vent along the roof. Kento ate from a small table while an attendant named Tsubaki prepared another plate.

”Send portions to the Konoha shinobi,” Kento said. ”Our guests should experience Hagoromo hospitality.”

Shikyō allowed insects to test the food before anyone accepted it. The precaution made Kento’s smile tighten, but a trade director who hired shinobi understood poison checks even when they offended his performance of generosity.

The meat was excellent.

Tsuyoshi divided a small piece with Gaku after confirming the seasoning was safe for the ninken. Atsushi ate without lowering his Byakugan schedule. Shikyō’s insects rejected the sauce but accepted traces of fat, a preference he recorded with the same seriousness as mission data.

Kento observed them through the window. He had expected hired shinobi to be impressed by wealth. Their first response had been to test, categorize, and fit the gift around existing duty.

”They can never simply accept a gift,” Kento murmured inside the carriage.

Tsubaki lowered her voice. ”That is why you hired them.”

Outside, Tonbo divided the team into rotating sectors. Hospitality could be sincere, manipulative, or both. None of those possibilities changed the road, the children awaiting protection, or the wind that would meet them in Gale Valley.