Naruto: Starting by Reading Minds in Naruto

Naruto rubbed his arms. The pressure of Tonbo’s entrance had raised goosebumps along them.

”So strong.”

”Is that what a jōnin can do?” Sakura asked quietly.

Kiba made a dismissive sound. ”He’s showing off. Deliberately.”

His envy undermined the complaint. Showing off before the Hokage looked very enjoyable, and Tonbo had never taught him that entrance. Akamaru barked, imagining the day Kiba became Hokage and declared a holiday for dogs. He would like to walk before a pack with that same overwhelming presence.

Sasuke examined his hand. He had felt the pressure and seen the impossible images, which meant the genjutsu had reached him before he noticed its beginning. Yet he had not met Tonbo’s eyes. It had not begun with a sound either.

Some other method, then. The realization was disturbing, but remembering the illusion Itachi had forced upon him was worse. In Sasuke’s judgment, this demonstration still fell short of his brother’s power. Were these really the shinobi Konoha expected to pursue Itachi?

Ino muttered that a man Tonbo’s age ought to have outgrown showing off.

Across the arena, Konohamaru recognized the examiner.

”That’s Tenyu’s father. He’s in charge?”

Hiruzen smiled. ”He’s a jōnin. You’ll be just as impressive someday.”

Privately, he thought the entrance a ridiculous waste of chakra. Even without missions to perform, Hiruzen kept reserves ready for an emergency. Tonbo had spent his on spectacle. Had peace made him forget a shinobi’s need for caution?

”I’ll surpass him,” Konohamaru said. ”And you. I’ll become the Fifth Hokage.”

Hiruzen laughed and wished him luck.

Kabuto adjusted his glasses in the audience, continuing to look unwell. For a moment he had thought his identity exposed.

As a medical shinobi, he had recognized the genjutsu’s effect upon his nerves. Tonbo had induced a physical stress response to create that oppressive feeling. It was an ingenious application. The Wind Release that carried him to his seat had been no less impressive.

Kabuto would have to estimate this man’s strength more generously. He did not consider himself a match. Orochimaru would have to handle him.

For now, the candidates offered useful information for next year’s operation. He settled down to watch.

”Fūma Shikun and Doi Masaru,” Tonbo called. ”Everyone else, wait in the audience. A bout ends when a candidate cannot continue or I judge that the result is decided.”

Wind lifted the remaining candidates and deposited them in the stands. Tonbo stepped back from the two left on the field.

Shikun smiled at his former teacher. He had trained for years and still remembered how much Tonbo’s instruction had helped him. He meant to become a chūnin this time. Failing before that particular examiner would be hard to endure.

The two candidates formed the Seal of Confrontation.

Shuriken opened the bout. Each tested the other’s defenses from a distance before deciding that neither would win so easily. Then they closed, exchanging kunai strikes and taijutsu.

Tonbo followed the fight through his senses. There was little ornament to it, and that pleased him. Smoke covered substitutions; clones interfered with a clear attack. Other ninjutsu appeared only when an opening justified the chakra.

This was how ordinary genin and chūnin fought: with familiar tools, basic techniques, and thought. Exceptional shinobi could make it easy to forget how much depended upon those skills.

Shikun’s natural talent had never been great. Even with the foundation Tonbo had given him, he was sixteen and still a genin. His judgment and proficiency now suggested that this attempt might be different. He had become an accomplished shinobi by his clan’s standards.

The exchange grew sharper. Shikun dropped a smoke bomb before Doi and brought out a giant windmill shuriken. He threw it, then began forming signs.

Doi broke out of the smoke to find the weapon coming directly toward him. A succession of kunai struck it, slowing its approach enough for him to duck and escape along the ground.

Shikun had prepared for that. A second windmill shuriken came from a blind angle.

Earth rose in answer. Doi formed a wall between himself and the second weapon, blocking its path.

Shikun smiled and pulled with his right hand.

Doi heard the vibration behind him. The first shuriken, the one he had already evaded, was returning. Its blade was too close. He shut his eyes, expecting the strike.

Metal rang. Wind brushed his face, but no pain followed.

He looked back. A stone rod had risen through the weapon’s central ring. The shuriken spun around it, unable to reach him.

”Winner: Fūma Shikun,” Tonbo announced. ”You both did well.”

Doi let out his breath. The referee had stopped the attack. He could only acknowledge that he had been outmaneuvered.

They formed the Seal of Reconciliation and left the field. Doi looked dejected; Shikun was smiling at the praise from his old teacher.

Tonbo called the next pair without stopping to talk. From the referee’s position, the bouts that followed gave him plenty to enjoy. He liked watching shinobi find answers with their minds instead of relying upon ever larger techniques.