Reborn as a Yamanaka Genius

"So…" Haruto drawled, his words muffled by a big bite of the crème-filled pastry I whipped up as a 'thank you for waking up so early and entertaining me' snack.

He sprawled on the long cream-colored couch, wedged between Daiki—head tipped back, mouth open, clearly nodding off—and Nao, who looked thoroughly disgruntled, dressed in satin pajamas and house slippers as he nursed his black coffee with slow, tired sips.

After swallowing, Haruto continued. "Just to clarify—am I dead, or is it really this early?" 

Right. It was Saturday morning, and the sun hadn't even stretched its arms yet before I called all five elders, plus my parents, to my studio—a room they custom-made for me based on a design of mine (they truly do spoil me). I knew it was early, and it could have waited, but I was excited—and this was important.

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[A/N] Image of Satoshi's Studio

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Haruto's sarcasm hung in the air as I walked a fresh tray of pastries over to Akira and Masaru, who were studying the paintings and books lining the shelves across the back of the room. Some books had been gifts from the elders and extended friends and family, while others were my writing.

Akira eyed the pastries, snatching one, then two, then three, while Masaru took only one and quietly returned to leafing through a scroll of tactics I'd recently "theorized": The Art of War.

Mom and Dad stood beside the piano, yawning, eyes half-open, their bodies so close they might as well have been Siamese twins. From the looks of it, they had quite a long night.

Setting down the tray, I picked up two identical scrolls and handed one to Haruto.

"You had us come over here this early because of a scroll?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, sleep still crusted in the corners of his eyes.

"Yes," I replied, handing him a small needle. "If you could, please put a drop of blood on the scroll."

That got everyone's attention. Daiki's eyes blinked open, half-lidded, watching, observing.

Haruto didn't bother asking why; he was more than used to my out-of-the-box request.

Sticking his thumb with the needle, he let a drop of his blood fall onto the scroll. Green wisps of chakra enveloped his hand, instantly healing the small prick.

"Now send your chakra into it," I instructed.

He complied, infusing the scroll with his chakra. 

"Perfect. Thank you—no, you can keep that. Just the needle," I added as Haruto tried to hand me the scroll instead of the needle. I took a step back, glancing around at everyone. "As you all know, Akira-sama has been teaching me Fūinjutsu over the past year, but this morning, I had a breakthrough in my research."

"You have?" Nao pushed his glasses up, suddenly more awake.

I nodded. "Fūinjutsu, at its core, is an art form. Every brush stroke, every connection, every character comes together to create art—art that has an effect. With that in mind…" I let my thumb brush over the scroll in my hand. "I created a two-way storage seal."

Silence settled over the room.

Then, "Hold up. Wait a damn minute. That was too abrupt," Akira said, arms crossed, eyes laser beams. "Come again?"

"These two scrolls are linked," I explained, motioning between Haruto's scroll and mine. I turned to my desk, set the needle down, and picked up a book. I infused chakra into my scroll, and the book vanished.

Then I looked back at Haruto. "Anything stored in this scroll…"

Haruto's gaze dropped, his expression brightening.

"…can be accessed by that scroll," I finished.

Haruto blinked, then focused his chakra into the scroll. A small poof of smoke and the book I'd just stored appeared in his hand.

The room fell into stunned silence. Eyes widened. Mouths gaped. Whatever sleep remained evaporated in an instant.

"What. The. Fuck?" Haruto just about yelled, his voice echoing across the room. Nao would have frowned at the outburst if he wasn't so stunned.

Nao shot up, "How in the—oops." Droplets of his coffee splashed on the gray carpet below.

I assume he astutely recognized my irritation as he moved for a napkin to dab up the spill. "My apologies. I got a… little excited."

My gaze followed the napkin until he cleaned every last drop. I'll have to deep clean the spot later.

"So you're saying anything that's stored in one scroll can be accessed by both?" Masaru asked, The Art of War now tucked under his arm. From the looks of it, he'll try to slip out of here with it.

"That's right."

"And the blood and chakra at the start was for…?" Akira asked, her expression analytical.

"A two-pronged recognition system." I took a seat in a chair beside my desk. "Which took way too long to create."

Fūinjutsu is arguably the most intricate and intellectually demanding of all jutsu arts. Whereas taijutsu relies on physical prowess and ninjutsu relies on elemental manipulation. Fūinjutsu is a language in itself—one of symbols, chakra, and intention.

When someone reproduces a seal, they are essentially "copying" an existing code without fully understanding its internal logic.

Fūinjutsu is basically a complex system of codes. The codes are essentially "programs" written with a specialized script that can manipulate chakra in various ways. I was never a programmer, but I assume, just as in a programming language, each component of a seal is a command—an instruction—encoded in a universal language that the chakra network can interpret and enact.

Some symbols can stand alone, while others require specific arrangements or parings to activate.

Which is why it took months to figure out the right arrangement of codes. Thank Kami, I didn't blow up anything in the meantime.

"The blood and chakra signatures make it so the scroll requires a matching imprint for access," I said, tapping the scroll in my hand. "If someone tries to open it without the correct signature, it stays sealed."

"That's my boy," Dad muttered.

Haruto activated his chakra, sending the book back into the scroll. I immediately retrieved it from my scroll with a quick infusion of chakra.

Masaru's eyes studied me. "Did you create this with the war in mind, too?"

Too. Just like Whisper, he meant. 

I offered a small smile. "Yes. Information distribution and resource management are some of every village's greatest weaknesses."

Nods and murmurs of agreement passed around the room.

Summons (and regular animals) were often used to shuttle information and supplies, but not everyone had access to a summon, and there were obvious vulnerabilities in relying on both methods alone. 

"I know there are situations where time is critical, where plans shift unexpectedly, or resources are destroyed, leaving shinobi stranded without a way to communicate or access what they need." I glanced at the scrolls. "This is my answer to that problem."

"So, am I correct in assuming these work long distances?" Masaru asked, his index finger tapping lightly on his crossed arm. 

"That's where you all come in," I replied. "The seal should allow them to work regardless of distance, but it needs testing."

"We can test that later today," Daiki said, eyes meeting Masaru's. A silent conversation was happening beneath the surface. "How much can it—they store?"

"Unfortunately, it should just be ten cubic meters for now."

Nao looked aghast. "Unfortunately?"

Akira mirrored his expression. "Just?"

"Honey…" Mom looked at me, eyes tinder. "That's a lot of space."

"… I suppose," I replied. I was actually trying to make it at least one hundred, but that goal was a dead end—at least for now.

"See?" Nao whispered to Haruto. "This is exactly what I was talking about."

"That's enough for a small armory," Dad added.

"You could stock a field medic's kit with enough bandages, antidotes, and medical herbs to last for months—or carry enough rations and water to keep a squad sustained for weeks behind enemy lines," Akira said. "And that's not even mentioning that it can be accessed at two points simultaneously." She gave me a look. "How long does it take to make a set, Satoshi?"

Satoshi. Not "boy." I had long since evolved from a noun to a proper noun.

"About five minutes for a set, though the time should decrease as I practice."

I have long since discovered that Apollo's talent in art, now a part of me, extended to more than just drawing, painting, or sculpting. Art was ambiguous—it was in every movement, every brush stroke. Art was incorporated into every facet of human life—from the flow of taijutsu to the arc of a thrown kunai. 

Everyone's eyes honed onto mine.

"Well, who needs sleep when we've got new shit to test?" Haruto said with a grin.

"Yup," Daiki got up from his seat, already walking out the door.

"I'll change and meet you all at the gate in twenty—no, ten," Nao said, his slippers sliding across the floor as he rushed out.

Akira lingered a moment longer, giving me an approving nod before she also slipped out.

"Mind if I borrow this?" Masaru asked, gesturing to The Art of War tucked under his arm.

"Not at all. Hopefully, it's a decent read."

He gave a slight nod. "It is." And with that, he followed the others out.

As fast as they came, they disappeared, and it was just me, Mom, and Dad in the studio.

This was just the beginning. They'd see soon enough.

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[A/N] I had this planned for a while now, but I believe I saw someone who also had a similar seal idea a couple of days ago: Dark_B3rry