Reborn as a Yamanaka Genius

[A/N] Sorry guys. My big boy job has been quite busy. Here's a beefy chapter for you all. 

FYI, there's a scene with music at the end. I recommend playing the linked song while reading the scene. ;)

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INOICHI YAMANAKA

In the center of the Hokage's moonlit office, Inoichi Yamanaka stood at a respectful distance from Hiruzen Sarutobi. Not too far—such distance implied mistrust—and not too close, which would suggest disrespect. The space between them was subtle, carefully calculated. A detail most would overlook.

But then again, most were not clan heads.

 Hiruzen, ever the symbol of control and composure—at least, in Inoichi's presence—finished signing the document he'd been studying. Placing his brush down slowly, he exhaled, his gaze lifting to meet Inoichi's.

"Apologies, Inoichi. Something unexpected came up at the last minute that required my attention."

For the briefest moment, a shadow of a frown flickered across Hiruzen's face—so quickly that it might have been a trick of the light.

Inoichi acted as though he hadn't seen it.

"Apologies are not required, Hokage-sama."

As he spoke, Inoichi's gaze drifted to the kiseru Hiruzen was lighting. The Hokage brought the pipe to his lips and inhaled deeply, the embers casting a warm glow across his weathered face.

He exhaled, and a slow, steady stream of smoke filled the room, slowly wafting into Inoichi's nose—leathery, earthy, bitter. Unpleasant.

"You are quite busy." Inoichi finished.

Hiruzen leaned back in his chair, pulling slightly away from his desk. His gaze lifted—brown met green. 

"Unfortunately, so, it seems."

Four simple words.

Words that held a myriad of meanings.

Inoichi knew all too well. After the Second Shinobi War, they all hoped for a reprieve, some time to regroup, to rebuild, to strengthen their young, to lick their wounds. But that peace had been fleeting, and they were not granted such a luxury.

Barely a year later, the Third War had erupted. Conflict after conflict. Destruction after destruction. Death after death.

The Second War had been for power, for influence, for territory. The Third was no different.

The Five Great Nations had found their hold on the world weakening, and so small skirmishes had begun—clashes between shinobi villages, small nations testing their borders. But the skirmishes grew, spreading like wildfire until the flames of war engulfed the world once again.

Inoichi had his opinions.

To him, this war was nothing but the greed of men made manifest—a bottomless hunger that consumed lives daily. That tore apart families weekly.

To him, it was the pride of men that kindled the flames, ensuring the young had plentiful opportunities to taste its flesh and drink its blood.

To him, it was tragic.

But he was a shinobi. He fought for the village, for his clan, for his wife, for his son, for their future. For their safety. He would do what needed to be done without complaint or hesitation. This was his duty as a Konoha shinobi. His duty as a husband. His duty as a father.

A beat of silence passed as the two men let the moonlight and smoke bathe their bodies—their minds.

Two men—both warriors.

Two men—both tired.

"You and your clan have been instrumental in this war. I cannot thank you all enough for your efforts," Hiruzen said at last. "Your time off is well deserved."

Inoichi lowered his head in a small, respectful bow.

"It is our pleasure, Hokage-sama."

And it was.

Inoichi was well aware of the advantage his clan provided on the battlefield, and the unique utility they brought to Konoha.

"As humble as ever, I see," Hiruzen replied with a soft chuckle, eyes crinkling in the corners.

Inoichi remained silent, but internally, his pride for his clan—for his son—shone like a blinding light.

Satoshi. His pride, his joy, his everything created a genjutsu that was so simple yet so effective. A genjutsu that quickly became another arsenal in every Yamanaka's tool belt. Its uses were vast: espionage, message delivery, sound replication, enemy distraction, stealth communication, psychological warfare.

He heard Satoshi had been busy with other creations, too. He was excited to see what they were.

Hiruzen took another slow puff of his pipe, smoke curling into the air. "I know you must be tired and ready to go home. If I'm not mistaken, it has been quite some time since you have seen your family…"

He was right. It had been.

Inoichi was more than ready to see his wife and son. Hear about how their days have been, what they were up to, what Satoshi has learned; hear him play one of the instruments he invented—which still felt somewhat surreal to think about, even now.

Inoichi did come home from time to time—occasionally, though that word hardly captured the reality of it. Work was relentless, burying him in one task after another: reading minds, analyzing intelligence, writing reports for the Hokage, and then doing it all over again before being deployed back to the field.

He yearned for his family's laughter, their voices filling the house, the feeling of holding them close.

"But before you go," Hiruzen began, his tone shifting slightly. "Your son has shown… remarkable talent and is approved to advance years ahead in the Academy."

"If I may ask, how many years ahead?" Inoichi asked, no hesitation.

Hiruzen, now leaning forward, ran his fingers along the armrest of his chair.

"Two as of now, but potentially more, depending on how well he performs in an assessment next week. I wanted to inform you because parental approval is required before he can officially advance."

Inoichi nodded, his thoughts wandering to his beautiful wife and her likely reaction. To be frank, they had anticipated this, of course. It was why the clan elders had put Satoshi through such grueling training over the past year—to prepare him for anything that might come his way.

To shape him into the pride of the Yamanaka.

"Understood." Another shallow bow. "I will discuss this with my family. Thank you for this consideration, Hokage-sama."

Hiruzen waved a hand, brushing off the formality. He gave a small smile that reached his eyes.

"Enough, enough. Your son is a bright flame. That only reflects the care and dedication you've shown in raising him. But enough of that. It's late, and I'm sure your family will be overjoyed to see you. Enjoy your time off, Inoichi, and well done."

Inoichi offered a final bow before excusing himself, exiting the Hokage's office with a slow exhale.

As he made his way through the streets of Konoha, he felt a lightness return.

He was going home.

Back to his family.

***

Before Inoichi could even reach the door, it slid open with a soft click, and a body collided with his, arms engulfing him in a warm, intoxicating hug.

"Well, it's good to see you too, my love," he murmured with a light laugh, lifting a hand to cradle the back of his wife's head.

Aiko didn't respond right away. She simply pressed her head against his chest, letting her breath align with the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Both in sync. Both in love.

After a long moment under the crisp moonlight, she whispered, "I missed you."

Inoichi's hand trailed her locks, down her spine, finding its way to the small of her back.

He pulled her closer, his voice gentle.

"As have I, my love."

He bent to press a soft kiss to her golden hair, inhaling jasmine and lavender.

A beautiful, delicate fragrance—just like her.

He lowered his lips to her ear. "We should head inside… unless you would prefer me to devour you under the stars?"

Aiko shivered, her hands tightening slightly against his back through his Jonin jacket. But after a beat, she pushed herself back, eyebrows faintly furrowed, and cheeks warm.

That somehow made her even more beautiful.

Inoichi chuckled, reaching out to pull her close again, but she had already turned, whisking away back into the house.

"I kid." He followed her trail

"No, you don't," she replied over her shoulder.

He smiled—she really did know him.

"If you would like to play a game of cat and mouse, I'd be happy to oblige. You do know how much I like a good chase."

Though he couldn't see her face, he could practically feel the warmth radiating off her cheeks.

His smile widened. Aiko, who loved to tease others, was somehow the easiest to fluster herself.

"Or if you'd prefer to be the pursuer, I can—"

His words held onto the back of his throat as he reached the warmly lit living room and saw who was waiting there.

"Well, please don't let me intrude on all the fun," came a familiar voice.

There, seated in an armchair with a book in one hand and a steaming cup in the other, was his son. Legs crossed, calm and composed. He looked up at his parents, face showing absolutely no emotion.

The gleam in Aiko's eye shone bright as her lips quivered from what Inoichi assumed to be one-sided entertainment.

Inoichi, one of the clan's best sensors, prided himself on his awareness. But ever since Akira had placed that chakra suppressant seal on Satoshi, his son had become exponentially harder to sense—as if he enjoyed floating through the house and the compound like a ghost.

"Satoshi," Inoichi said, taking a step forward.

"Dad." Satoshi set aside his book and cup, rising from his seat.

Inoichi took another step, voice soft. "It's good to see you, son."

They stood before each other. Gray met green.

And then, with no hesitation, Satoshi wrapped his arms around his father, small but firm, holding tight.

"Good to see you too, Dad." The words were quiet, almost whispered, but they filled Inoichi's heart all the same. 

They held each other, letting the silence speak for them. In that quiet room, under the gentle glow of the lamps, all of Inoichi's worries, stress, and exhaustion melted away, leaving only the warmth of family and the peace and gratitude of making it home safely once again.

***

"So," Inoichi began, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over them after their reunion. Satoshi was perched back atop his stoop while Inoichi and Aiko sat close together on the couch—hand in hand.

"Hokage-sama tells me you've approved to skip two grades. Maybe more."

To Inoichi's surprise, Aiko's grip on his hand remained steady, visibly showing none of the worry he expected.

Satoshi's gaze drifted upward from his book, his eyes flicking between them before he replied.

"What do you think about that?"

Inoichi smiled, rubbing the back of Aiko's hand with his thumb, and returned the question to his son.

"What do you think about that?"

"It was inevitable," Satoshi replied, voice matter-of-fact. "I'm ready."

Simple, efficient, and to the point. Classic Satoshi.

"I see," Inoichi replied, glancing at his wife through the corner of his eye. "Aiko?"

A moment of silence hung between the three.

"I agree." Two sets of eyebrows raised. "You are ready."

Obviously, they both weren't expecting that answer from her.

"I'll make sure to tell the elders to increase your training. Considerably."

Ah. There it was.

Satoshi took a sip from his tea. As did Inoichi. Peach—absolutely heavenly.

Inoichi found himself wondering if they should partner with the Akimichi to open a restaurant someday. With Satoshi's talents and recipes, they would inevitably drown in money.

A thought for another time.

"How was training today?" Inoichi asked, bringing the conversation back to the present.

"Hm," Satoshi hummed, his gaze drifting off for a moment. "It was good. Did you know cockroaches can scream?"

Inoichi and Aiko blinked.

 Cockroaches can… scream?

The idea was somewhat disturbing, but Satoshi was a peculiar child with peculiar taste—It fit.

"No, I didn't know that," Inoichi replied, glancing at Aiko.

"Neither did I until today." Satoshi flipped a page with a casual flick of his finger.

[Is that code for something?] Inoichi mentally asked Aiko.

[Knowing Satoshi, most definitely.] she replied.

"Well… that's good to know, honey," Aiko replied as she changed the topic. "But before it gets too late, why don't you play a song for us? You've had me waiting all this time for Inoichi to return."

Another flip of a page. Satoshi's eyes ran down both pages in seconds; then he closed the book.

"Sure. Let's go to the studio."

They rose and followed Satoshi to his studio—a room in the house designed just for him. A sanctuary where he spent most of his hours creating whatever came to mind. Painting, crafting, theorizing, and meditating (which is still bizarre, associating sitting in prolonged periods of silence with a five-year-old activity).

As they entered the large room, Inoichi was greeted by an array of paintings that lined the walls and floors, canvases propped up on easels, and leaned against shelves filled to the brim with books.

Each different—all breathtaking.

Some were portraits of people Inoichi didn't recognize, others were landscapes he knew instantly—the Hokage Rock, the garden at dusk, a painting of him holding Aiko's hand in a field of flowers, a memory from last spring.

Every last one of his pieces was absolutely beautiful.

As if they held a world within.

Aiko and Inoichi settled onto a low, neutral-toned couch that flanked the space while Satoshi approached a large wooden instrument positioned in the center of the room.

"Is this one of the instruments you had made?" Inoichi asked, his gaze lingering on the unusual wooden frame before him.

Satoshi sat on the bench in front of it, facing them, and nodded. "Yes. I call it a piano."

He knew Satoshi had commissioned a set of new instruments months ago, but Inoichi didn't know it would turn out like… this.

His eyes trailed to the corner of the room, running over more wooden instruments—some he didn't recognize, and some he did—carefully arranged.

The room was bathed in a low, warm light from lanterns strung across the ceiling, deepening the shadows and making the room feel inviting and cozy.

Satoshi lifted a wooden flap on the piano, his fingers brushing on what lay beneath. He glanced up, and his eyes met theirs.

"I haven't practiced this piece, so… please lower your expectations to zero."

Aiko chuckled, her voice as soft as honey. "I'm sure whatever you play will be magnificent, Satoshi."

A smile curved at his lips as he looked at her. Then he straightened, adjusting his posture, hands hovered like birds poised for flight. 

"I call this piece Vague Reason."

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[A/N: I recommend listening to the song while reading to feel the vibes] [link to the song – Vague Reason, Jutsu Kaisen on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=feNxXkHdZJ4]

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He closed his eyes, and in that instant, he transformed. It was as if the air itself shifted. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting.

Then his hands descended, and sound filled the room—a sound so pure, so achingly beautiful that Inoichi forgot to breathe.

The first notes hung in the air, delicate and crystalline.

The air seemed to shimmer, painting images in his mind, each note more vivid, and more real than the last.

It was as if the melody defied words and left only feeling. Raw and powerful.

Inoichi could see it—images blooming in his mind. Scenes created by the rise and fall of the song.

He was no longer sitting in the study; he was drifting through a different world. A shadowed landscape—vast and endless. The sky was fractured, streaked with impossible shades of blue, like shattered glass catching the light.

Around him, the air was thick, weighted with something unseen, something that clung to his skin and settled in his lungs like fog. And from that fog, memories surfaced—fragmented and half-forgotten.

Moments of pain and loneliness and anguish—a sense of loss so deep it was almost primal. Images surfacing that he hadn't dared revisit in years. He saw friends and comrades. Their faces were etched in memory, some laughing, some solemn, but all lost in war.

He could see Ryota, his childhood friend, the one who'd been like a brother to him, falling under an enemy's blade. He could still feel the bitter sting of the dirt as he dug his grave himself.

The music pulled these feelings out of him, laid them bare, and made him confront them. And yet, it was beautiful.

So. Damn. Beautiful.

The music drew him in. But the pace quickened, and the piece became a storm. The notes rose, tangled, and clashed.

Satoshi's fingers danced over the keys, each movement effortless and perfect, not the movements of someone who hadn't practiced this piece.

The notes spiraled and soared, a flow of sound that filled every corner of the studio, leaving no space untouched, and now he saw the face of Hana, his cousin, bright, full of life, even in her final moments.

She'd been so young, and yet there had been no hesitation when she threw herself in front of an enemy jutsu to protect him—the clan heir. That moment replayed again and again and again. Carving an emptiness in him that he'd learned to live with but never to fill.

Inoichi's heart pounded and thrummed in time with the music.

He could feel it—this music. It wasn't just sound; it felt like something… alive.

His pulse thundered in his ears, his body vibrated with its intensity.

He looked over at Aiko and saw her face lit by the low, warm lights. Her hand was clenched tightly on her knee, knuckles white. Her eyes were wide and red, staring at Satoshi as if she was seeing him for the first time.

She was feeling it, too.

The beauty. The awe. The despair.

The near-painful ecstasy of hearing something beyond anything they had ever known.

The music swelled to a peak; it was so intense that Inoichi could feel it in his bones, rattling through his chest. Consuming him.

He could feel the weight of all he had lost, the ache of memories too painful to touch, and yet here he was, sitting with them, unable to look away.

And then, just as it seemed the music had taken him to the very edge of what he could bear, Satoshi slowed, softening, gentling, dissolving like mist in sunlight.

The storm faded, leaving a faint memory of the rain.

And then—silence.

Satoshi opened his eyes, glancing at them, but Inoichi and Aiko were frozen, held captive by that final note.

For a long moment, no one moved. The only sound was the faint inhale and exhale of their breath, the faint shimmer of a world that had been shattered and remade.

Finally, Satoshi tilted his head.

"Why are you both crying?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. "Was it that bad?"

Inoichi blinked, feeling a wetness on his cheek he hadn't noticed. He raised a hand to his face, fingertips brushing the trail of a tear. He tried to speak, but no words came.

How could he explain what he'd just experienced? What he just witnessed.

Aiko managed a trembling smile, her own face streaked with tears.

"It was magnificent," she whispered. "… Just like I knew it would be."

Inoichi nodded, his voice finally finding its way back, though it was barely more than a whisper. 

"Yes. It was… magnificent."

And it truly was.

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[A/N] If you like the story, please consider leaving a review.