Mind-reading—also known as memory scanning—was a technique generally avoided during times of peace. But in times of war, it became common practice. In such chaotic eras, ninjas would use any means necessary to extract information, and reading a target's thoughts was one of the most effective methods. However, few could master this art. Among those who could, the Yamanaka Clan of the Hidden Leaf Village stood at the top.
Typically, a ninja would first resort to interrogation. If that failed, they would then employ genjutsu—illusion-based techniques—to coax the truth out of a subject. But if the subject's will was strong enough to resist even hypnosis, there remained only one method: direct intrusion into the target's mind to read memories and thoughts. This final approach came with a heavy cost—it could severely damage the subject's psyche, induce memory loss, or even leave them mentally broken. Therefore, it was not used lightly.
But in wartime, no one clung to ideals of compassion. Even the smallest fragment of information could tip the balance, and for that, ninjas would go to any length.
Amano Ren was just a child without chakra. Even from a strategic standpoint, Hiruzen Sarutobi wouldn't have considered starting with the most extreme method. However, if genjutsu failed to affect Ren, suspicion would inevitably rise—could he be a spy from another village?
After all, one of the key traits of an elite spy was an unshakable will. It wasn't uncommon for the most dangerous operatives to not only resist genjutsu but to feed false information while under hypnosis.
The Hidden Leaf's ninja forces acted quickly. Within just three minutes of the decision being made, two masked ANBU operatives appeared in the room where Amano Ren had been placed. At that moment, Ren was shoveling food into his mouth and didn't notice the silent arrival of two strangers behind him.
"Amano… Ren?"
The ANBU on the left, wearing a grey fox mask, spoke the boy's name with awkward pronunciation.
Ren froze, startled by the sudden voice. He turned quickly—and was greeted by two eerily dressed individuals. They wore tight black outfits, a sword strapped to each of their backs, and masks that completely concealed their faces.
"You guys are…?"
He began to ask who they were, but before he could finish, the first ANBU interrupted, "Come with us."
The cold tone, strange clothing, and blunt demand set Ren instantly on edge. He didn't hesitate—grabbing a ceramic bowl off the table, he bolted toward the window. When he was first placed in this room, he had already scouted the layout and mapped out two escape routes in his mind.
The ANBU hadn't expected such a violent reaction. As they paused in momentary surprise, Ren was already at the window, one hand on the sill, preparing to leap.
Just the mere presence of the ANBU—and their prickly attitude—had triggered Ren's internal alarms. But what he hadn't considered was their level of skill.
The moment his hand touched the window frame, one ANBU vanished in a flicker, appearing behind him and knocking him unconscious with a swift, precise strike—calculated not to injure. It was a clean, controlled move, reflecting his mastery over his own strength.
As pain bloomed at the back of his neck and darkness swallowed his vision, Ren felt an icy dread settle over his heart.
Just moments ago, during dinner, he had felt safe. He had thought this might be a place where he could begin to understand this world. But now that illusion had been shattered.
This incident defined his impression of the Hidden Leaf. First impression: bad. Second impression: worse. It would be difficult to change that in the future.
If this world allowed for "what ifs," then perhaps—someday—he would look back on today's decision with regret.
When Amano Ren awoke, the first thing he felt was discomfort—his arms and legs were bound.
He looked down and realized he was strapped to a chair. He didn't panic, nor did he shout. From the moment he met Orochimaru and Tsunade, Ren had understood that he was nothing but a pawn—helpless to the whims of others. It wouldn't even be surprising if they chose to kill him the next second.
Panic was useless. Instead, he started analyzing his surroundings.
The room was large and dimly lit. The only illumination came from two white candles affixed to the arms of the chair. The light wasn't strong enough to reveal the walls, only the floor a few feet ahead. Beyond that was nothing but darkness.
Ren gave up scanning the space and shifted his focus to the ropes binding his wrists. No give at all.
"I'm such an idiot…" he muttered silently.
He had no real choice back when he first encountered Orochimaru. Looking back now, it was simply a matter of whether he'd die sooner or later.
His upbringing had left him with deeply rooted caution around others. He always assumed the worst-case scenario—not just as a precaution, but as a learned instinct, born from having seen too much darkness.
And right now, he was imagining several gruesome endings. Though the specifics varied, the outcome in every one of them was death.
But…
Amano Ren didn't want to die.
His eyes shifted slightly, his expression calm, but his thoughts were now racing.
An unfamiliar room. Bound hands and feet. Dim lighting. Too many unfavorable variables.
"You don't need to worry. I'm not going to hurt you."
A gentle voice broke the silence.
Accompanied by soft footsteps, a figure emerged from the shadows and walked toward him, stopping a meter away.
Ren's heart skipped, but his face remained composed. He raised his head slightly and studied the man.
Thin lips pressed into a straight line. A defined nose. Sharp, sword-like eyebrows under which intense eyes gleamed.
He was striking—a man of both presence and poise.
So this is the one…
Yamanaka Harano didn't mind Ren's cautious gaze. He followed the prepared procedure: build rapport through conversation, use genjutsu to draw out the truth, and only resort to the Yamanaka clan's secret jutsu as a last measure.
"You think I'll fall for such a cliché line?" Ren scoffed at the remark.
Harano blinked, surprised by the defiance. He peered closer into Ren's eyes. What he saw wasn't just indifference or fear of death—but also a deep, unguarded wariness.
This child…
He tapped the forehead protector tied around his own head with a finger and chuckled dryly. "Believe it or not, the truth will reveal itself."
Then, locking eyes with Ren, he began forming hand signs.
Genjutsu: Realm of Dreams.
Ren's eyes widened as he tracked Harano's complex hand gestures. To his astonishment, every movement remained crystal clear in his mind—before he could even process this sudden enhancement in memory, Harano's eyes transformed into spiraling vortices.
In the blink of an eye, Ren—and everything around him—was sucked into darkness.
Then, just as quickly, came light.
Ren opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was his younger sister, Ruri, leaning against the bed.
His heart trembled.
"Onii-chan, are you okay?" she asked, her pale, delicate face filled with concern. Her large eyes shimmered with worry.
"I'm fine…" Ren whispered, slowly shaking his head.
Warm sunlight streamed through the window. He reached out and held Ruri's small, cold hand—it felt completely real.
This couldn't be a dream. It couldn't…
"Onii-chan, why are you crying?"
"Huh?"
Ren touched his cheek—his fingers came away wet.
He looked out the window, into the blue sky, and smiled.
"Just… some dust in my eye."
Outside the illusion, Harano Yamanaka lowered his hands, staring at Ren's vacant, glassy eyes.
"Where are you from?" he asked softly.
Ren gave no reply. He sat motionless, like a puppet with its strings cut.
Harano frowned. The genjutsu had clearly taken effect.
He tried again, "What's your name?"
Still no answer.
His frown deepened. He tried several more questions—each one simpler than the last—but received no response at all.
"Is he… really a spy?" Harano muttered under his breath.
When he first met Ren, the boy's level of wariness had made Harano doubt that possibility. It was too strong, too instinctual—unlike anything a trained spy would display.
But now, seeing how Ren responded—or rather, failed to respond—even under a successful genjutsu, he began to question his initial judgment.
Half an hour passed.
He had learned nothing.
"…No choice, then."
Harano sighed quietly. He didn't want to use the Yamanaka Clan's secret technique—not on a child.
But he was out of options.