Naruto: The Outsider’s Resolve
CH_10.11 (377)

There were ways to protect the mind from outside invasion. One such method was using highly specialised and complex genjutsu to place mental blocks inside the target's mind to stop them from divulging sensitive information. The genjutsu protected the mind against the administration of truth serums that lowered the target's inhibition and made them much more susceptible to revealing knowledge they wouldn't otherwise.

It also protected the mind against the Hidden Leaf's Yamanaka clan.

Since their creation, the Five Great Shinobi Nations—including Hidden Leaf Village—were locked in an active arms race where they competed against the Yamanaka clan in terms of trying to come up with better and stronger ways to defend against the Mind-Body hiden jutsu that itself improved over generations.

At the start of the post-Warring States Era, the Yamanaka clan was possibly the biggest problem in the shinobi world. They were stealing secret and confidential information directly from the people's minds, giving the Hidden Leaf a massive advantage in intelligence, which they used to gain and assert their advantage over other Hidden Villages.

It had got so bad that giving false information to foreign intelligence operatives and spies or keeping them in complete darkness had become a common and necessary practice, as being captured by Leaf meant a meeting with a Yamanaka who would scour their mind for any information.

Even Hidden Leaf was cautious of the mind walkers that resided in their house.

However, that couldn't be the solution, so the villages began researching ways to keep them out. Genjutsu was soon identified as a promising avenue, and it was pursued with such vigour and desperation that a young Hōzuki Gengetsu from the Hidden Mist created the first working genjutsu to block Yamanaka from accessing memories.

He would later go on to become the Second Mizukage of the Hidden Mist Village.

But what Inenpachi had before him was not genjutsu. It felt like a natural part of the central hub, something that was created by the mind for some purpose.

He stepped off the tunnel and floated into the spherical room. Instantly, a massive pressure slammed him into the web of yarn.

"Is something wrong?"

Outside, Takuma felt something was wrong when he felt the pressure from Inenpachi's hand on his head increase.

"Your brain is tougher to traverse," Inenpachi said calmly. In his experience, telling people he saw something wrong in their minds tended to freak them out and make them exponentially more difficult to work on. He wanted to find out more about this anomaly he had never seen or read about before.

Luckily, his choice of words seemed to do the trick as Takuma seemed pleased that his mind was difficult for a Yamanaka.

The pressure inside the mind was a natural response of the mind trying to protect itself. It was a common occurrence for a Yamanaka, but he had never felt a response this strong, and this was when Takuma was willing to have him in his mind. He couldn't imagine what it would be like if he were forcefully trespassing.

He endured the pressure, manoeuvred around the yarn web, and floated close to the brain. It sat in a brain-shaped hole in the wall, and he could tell it was still intact in one piece, but half of it was on the other side, shrouded in darkness. As he held a hand to the brain, a scroll as thick as his body slid out of the tissue.

Inenpachi closed his eyes to focus on the brain and received all sorts of information about Takuma, from his stress levels to how well he processed inputs like sensory and motor domains. His brain seemed to be exceptionally proficient in processing auditory inputs, which meant he had excellent hearing.

He checked all the things he had originally come to check before setting his eye on the metal door.

He floated up to the vault-like door, which was so black that it seemed to absorb all light. Inenpachi noticed that the web of yarn seemed to be avoiding the door, as the space in front of it was empty. The door didn't seem to negatively influence the central hub, which reaffirmed his feeling that this was another natural structure, but he also couldn't deny that the wall shouldn't be there.

A fever was the body's response to kill the virus; it was completely natural and beneficial, but that didn't mean everyone should always have high fevers. The metal door before him was of the same function as a fever.

He raised his hand towards the circular wheel on the door and instantly felt the pressure grow heavier, as though it was warning him not to touch it. When he grabbed the wheel, he felt the pressure double, and it was still rising. He needed to hurry because Takuma's mind was trying to crush him, and it seemed to be fully capable of doing so.

Inenpachi twisted the wheel until the door clicked loose, and suddenly all the pressure disappeared like wind behind a wall. The thick panel swung open to reveal an infinite, stretching darkness.

And when he looked down, Inenpachi beheld a child the age of nine or ten. His skin was the colour of ash, and his hair was barely visible, almost blending into the darkness around him. He was barefoot, draped in grey rags that hung off his malnourished, bony body like clothes hangers.

"Takuma?"

The child—a spitting image of Takuma—looked up at him with eyes that were darker than the abyss around him. He opened his mouth, and his jaw dropped a little low before he let out a horrifying scream that brought with it a soul-crushing pressure.

Inenpachi instantly pulled out of Takuma's mind with no second thoughts as a world of pain assaulted him.

After Inenpachi was gone, the ash-skin child closed his mouth and stepped back into the darkness as the door swung closed. The wheel turned and locked the door, returning equilibrium to silence to the central hub of Takuma's mind.

In Inenpachi's office, the iryō-nin and his research subject were on the floor, screaming in pain, both of them clutching their heads.

"W-What did you do!" Takuma screamed as he shakily stood up and took out a kunai, only to fall in the next moment when his vision had quadrupled. He felt his heart pumping faster than in any fight he had been in, and felt adrenaline suitable for a horse in his veins.

Inepachi stopped screaming and lay flat on the ground with eyes wide in shock, fixed on the ceiling. His chest heaved and fell rapidly as though he was out of breath. Takuma called for him a few more times, but he didn't respond.

Takuma calmed down as the pain subsided and his balance and vision returned to normal. He approached Inenpachi, who seemed out of it. His eyes were unfocused, and he seemed listless, as though he were unconscious with open eyes. His caution faded, and his worry for the iryō-nin took over as he saw him lying still on the floor.

"Inenpachi?"

Takuma touched the man's arm, which seemed to snap him out of whatever condition he was in. Inenpachi hurriedly sat up and turned around to grab his shoulders with a firm grip. He was sweating so much that droplets dripped from his nose and chin.

"There's something really wrong with you, Takuma," said Inenpachi in a severe tone. His usual calm, gentlemanly demeanour was nowhere to be seen; he seemed almost fanatical as he shook his shoulders.

"W-What?"

"Forget about shadow clones or anything else. We need to talk about what I saw in your mind because I fear something that shouldn't be there in the deepest depths of your mind."

Takuma thought he was exaggerating, but the look in Inenpachi's eyes told him otherwise.

———

 .

What Inenpachi had told Takuma concerned him greatly. The way it was described made him stressed about the thing inside his mind that even a Yamanaka couldn't be sure about.

The only silver lining was that Inenpachi was confident it was a creation of his own mind and not the work of any external force, but that didn't really matter much at the moment.

Takuma ended up telling him that he had no memories from before he was ten years old, in desperation that if he gave some information, Inenpachi would recognise what it was and come up with a solution, and everything would be good.

He chose his words carefully because he didn't want anyone to know about his real secret. He also withheld the visions of repressed memories and the headaches that would occur whenever he tried to think about his past.

"You're missing memories might be because of this separation," Inenpachi said in speculation. "Likely due to a traumatic experience your mind is trying to shield you from by burying it, but I must advise, this is not healthy. I have seen cases of repressed memories, but never anything like yours. We have no idea what might be happening on the unseen side. It might break one day and flood your brain, which could cause untold damage. It's imperative that you deal with it on your own so we can solve this with the least amount of hardship."

Takuma's shoulders tensed as he shifted uncomfortably. His eyes flicked nervously toward the door while his breathing grew quick and shallow. Though nothing in the room had changed, the air seemed to compress around him, becoming almost suffocating. In one sudden movement, he shot to his feet—his chair screeching against the floor.

"I-I... I'm not ready to talk about it right now," he said, unable to meet eyes with the iryō-nin. For some reason, he felt ashamed of this moment of weakness. He hadn't come to the Yamanaka for mental health purposes, but for a research collaboration, which had now derailed before it even started because of his issues.

"I understand," Inenpachi replied with complete understanding. "Take as much space and time to think about it before deciding what you want to do, but don't ignore this. Talk to someone you trust about this first."

He thanked him and got out of there as fast as possible. After leaving the clinic, he found himself in a park. The afternoon sun hung in the sky as he sat on a bench under the shade of a tree. His foot tapped rapidly against the ground while he felt anxious enough to puke up everything in his stomach.

He was sure that the divide in his mind was because he took over the body, and wondered if whatever lay behind it belonged to the "boy". He always knew that the memories hadn't disappeared despite never receiving them. Now he had proof that not only were they present, but his possession of the body had turned them into something abnormal. It felt like having a bomb inside him that could blow up at any moment without warning.

He tilted his head back and draped his arm across his eyes, but couldn't stop the hot tears that welled up beneath his eyelids. The irony wasn't lost on him. Just days ago, he'd been seething at the foreign emotions infiltrating his mind—intrusions that threatened the boundaries of who he was. Now, that anger had transformed into something far worse: raw, unfiltered terror.

What if clearing the mental block meant the boy's memories would flood in, mixing and merging with his own? Would he recognise himself after absorbing someone else's lifetime of experiences?

His fingers trembled against his forehead. Everything from his previous life had already been stripped away. All that remained was his sense of self—his final possession—and now even that stood at risk of contamination.

The weight of his watch pressed against his wrist as he lowered his arm. Ignoring the problem wasn't viable either. Whatever this was, whatever dwelled behind that mental barrier, would likely metastasise into something unimaginable if left unchecked.

His stomach twisted into knots. Logic told him there was only one path forward, yet that path paralysed him. The temptation to pretend none of this existed pulled at him like a dangerous undertow. Just contemplating his options sent waves of anxiety crashing through his chest—what would happen when he actually took action?

He'd never understood the appeal of denial until now.

The sun had shifted positions dramatically by the time his mind finally exhausted itself. It felt like hours had passed, leaving him slumped on the bench, no closer to resolution than when he'd stormed out of the clinic. Through the mental fog, one clarity emerged: where he needed to be, and who he needed to see.

With heavy limbs and a heavier heart, he rose and turned towards home.

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