Reborn as a Yamanaka Genius

SATOSHI YAMANAKA 

The cement walls that encircled me did their best to be as intimidating as possible as I flipped through the last section of my test.

Typically, tests are taken in more welcoming environments, surrounded by other test takers.

However, today was atypical.

Two proctors—a young Nara genin and a twenty-something-year-old civilian Chunin—stood at the front of the stuffy room. Their uniforms were pressed to perfection.

The Nara had that half-lidded gaze that said she was here against her will, while the civilian's glasses were so thick I couldn't see his eyes properly.

The chunin's job was to administer the test and ensure I didn't use any means to cheat my way through it, while I assumed I would be interacting with the genin more a little later. 

I closed the test booklet, set my pen on top without flourish, and looked up at them.

"I'm done."

The civilian didn't even glance at the test, just squinted at me over his ridiculous frames like I'd somehow cheated by finishing early.

"Are you… sure?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, dragging my finger along the edge of the desk.

It was an understandable question.

I did just complete a three hour test in thirty minutes.

The chunin took no time waking over with polished steps. He picked up the test and flipped through it quickly.

By the speed at which he went through it, I assumed he was seeing if I completed it all rather than checking if my answers were correct.

"Very well," he said, voice flat.

Once he had the test, they ushered me out of the room and down several dimly lit hallways, the kind of dull light that made it feel ten degrees colder than it actually was.

My thoughts trailed to Shisui. We both came to this building together, but that was the last I'd seen him—they split us up to test us separately.

We turned a couple of corners until sunlight finally kissed my cheek.

We stepped into a wide, open field—only the three of us and some training tools stacked neatly near a post.

"We will begin running through the next set of tests, Satoshi-kun," Glasses said beside me. "Would you like to change into something more… appropriate?"

"That won't be necessary," I replied. "Let's begin, please." 

*** 

HIRUZEN SARUTOBI 

Hiruzen was having a smooth Monday—or at least, as smooth as a Monday could be in a time of war—until two unexpected guests barged into his office and interrupted his peace.

Like so many days before, his lifelong friend entered his office with the ease of someone who believed it belonged to him.

Danzo's footsteps were silent—marking his decades as a seasoned shinobi—and his gaze was sharp, assessing—critical.

He never looked at a person; he assessed them. And he never walked into a space; he claimed it. 

"How may I help you today, Danzo?" 

He had discovered years ago that entertaining his friend's woes was the easiest way to get him on his merry way.

"You neglected to inform me that a grade advancement test would be conducted today," Danzo replied, his voice clipped as he took a seat uninvited. "For two children, no less."

Hiruzen fought back the urge to sigh. Danzo's capacity to find grievance in the smallest of things never failed to amaze him.

"I wasn't aware it was required of the Hokage to consult you on such a minor thing," he replied, leaning back slightly in his chair and resting a hand on his pipe.

"Minor?"

The faint twitch in Danzo's withered face told Hiruzen the word had struck a nerve.

He took quite satisfaction in seeing his old friend bristle, though Danzo was far too disciplined to let the scowl fully form.

"The last child who underwent a grade advancement test was Kakashi," Danzo continued. "And look how promising he's become. It's only logical to assume these two—"

Hiruzen felt the faintest flicker of annoyance. He could see where this was going.

"—children have similar potential."

'Children, ' Danzo had said, though Hiruzen knew better.

Danzo had likely compiled extensive dossiers on Satoshi and Shisui before even stepping foot into the room.

He probably knew their favorite foods, their habits, how often they trained, and knowing Danzo, something absurd—how many steps they took each morning or how many hours they slept the previous week.

For him to feign ignorance and refer to them as mere children was an obvious act of pretense.

Hiruzen brought his pipe to his lips, inhaling deeply. The warm tobacco filled his lungs, his chakra coating his insides, healing the inevitable internal damage.

Tsunade had lectured him countless times about the habit, but it was a small indulgence he refused to give up.

He exhaled slowly, letting the smoke curl around him as he considered Danzo's words.

Kakashi.

The name stirred something painful and bittersweet in him. Memories surfaced briefly, but he pushed them back into the depths where they belonged.

Now was not the time to dwell on the past.

"So," Danzo continued, "It's only reasonable these two will rise to the same level—or perhaps even higher."

Hiruzen didn't respond immediately. He simply let the words hang in the air, turning them over in his mind.

Satoshi and Shisui.

Yes, both boys were talented—prodigies, in fact, according to their teacher's reports. Whether they could surpass Kakashi—or even Minato, for that matter—remained to be seen.

That, after all, was the purpose of today's test.

"They have potential," Hiruzen said finally, "But they are children, Danzo." Children who, like Kakashi, deserve the chance to have a happy life.

Unfortunately, this world was not too keen on letting talented children live normally.

But Hiruzen supposed that normal was subjective.

Danzo's expression didn't shift, though Hiruzen could see the wheels turning in his mind, calculating, always calculating.

He did not doubt that his old friend would already have plans in place for how to use the boys should they prove as extraordinary as Kakashi—his genius had him graduated from the academy in mere months—that was a mistake.

That was Danzo's way—always thinking ten steps ahead, always moving in the shadows. It was both his greatest strength and his most dangerous flaw.

But Hiruzen wouldn't—would never—let that happen.

Satoshi was the Yamanaka heir, and Shisui was Kagami's descendant. No matter their talent, no matter the potential they held, those boys would not be reduced to mere tools for him to use.

Not only would the Yamanaka retaliate, but their allies—the Akimichi and the Nara—would also rise in protest. And then there was the Uchiha.

Hiruzen would rather not have such a big headache anytime soon.

He set the pipe down carefully, his gaze sharp as he spoke to his old friend. "The purpose of today's test is not to measure their future. It is to test their readiness. Let's let the future take care of itself, shall we?"

Danzo said nothing, but the faint narrowing of his eyes was enough to tell Hiruzen the answer wasn't to his liking.

It never was.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and taut. And then, out of nowhere, came the unmistakable sound of shouting from the corridor outside Hiruzen's office.

It was… unusual.

No, more than unusual—it was alarming.

The ANBU stationed within the walls of the Hokage Tower were among the most elite of Konoha's shinobi, their purpose to neutralize any disturbances long before they reached the Hokage's ears.

For this kind of noise to reach his door…

Hiruzen felt a familiar chakra signature brush against his senses, growing closer with every sharp click of heels against the tile.

And then, the door to his office slammed open, revealing a woman who had once been the heart of their team and the soul of their village, but now… but now, she was...

"Lady Tsunade, I really must insist—" came the hurried voice of his secretary, who had been trailing behind her in an attempt to stop the storm that had now entered his office.

A valiant effort but useless, nonetheless.

Hiruzen raised his hand, motioning for the secretary to stand down.

"It's all right," he said, signaling that Tsunade's intrusion was, if not welcome, at least tolerated.

Perhaps it set a poor precedent, but Hiruzen had long since decided that accommodating his wayward student was often the path of least resistance.

The secretary closed the door reluctantly, leaving Hiruzen to watch Tsunade and Danzo have a stare-off.

After a long beat of silence, "I presume you received my letter?" Danzo asked Tsunade, which brought Hiruzen slight confusion.

"I did," she replied, as cool as ice.

"And?"

Tsunade shrugged, her tone utterly indifferent. "It accidentally caught fire."

Most wouldn't have caught the flare of irritation that pulsed from Danzo at her words, but Hiruzen did.

Regardless of how curious he was about what letter Danzo had sent to his student, that was a matter for another time.

"Tsunade," Hiruzen said as he watched Tsunade stare daggers into Danzo's head. For some reason, he thought he could see electricity pulse between them, but perhaps it was his imagination.

"You can't just barge into meetings unannounced." He finished.

He knew, of course, that this wasn't a meeting, not in the formal sense. But old habits died hard, and no matter how futile the effort, he couldn't resist trying to instill a sliver of discipline in his students.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, the lie as transparent as water. 

Well, it had been worth a try.

"So," Hiruzen said, leaning back slightly in his chair, "What do you need?"

"Medical supplies," she replied without hesitation. Another lie. "Just came to make sure the request is being processed properly."

"Is that so?" He asked, but from her jilted body language, Hiruzen decided to drop the matter.

"Yes." Her eyes slid around the room until they stopped—briefly—on the walls, where three ANBU were hiding.

"And what is this meeting about?"

Quite the deflection, but he was too tired to put up a fight. "We were just about to observe a grade advancement assessment for two promising students."

Tsunade's strong gaze shifted between Danzo and Hiruzen, and then, as if stuck by a sudden idea, she waltzed up to his desk and crossed her arms.

"Well, since I'm here, I might as well watch."

Danzo's pinkie finger twitched—subtle, almost imperceptible, but enough to make Hiruzen cough lightly to mask his amusement.

For all her thorns, having Tsunade here might actually prove entertaining.

Without a word, Hiruzen reached for the crystal ball that sat atop its purple cushion on his desk. His fingers brushed the cool surface as he infused it with chakra.

The clear image shifted to reveal the exterior of a nearby building set aside for meetings, evaluations, and other miscellaneous things.

Satoshi stood outside throwing shuriken at moving training posts held to a tree with rope.

He lifted his hand, and with a small flick of his wrist, the shuriken flew towards the wood, hitting it dead center.

Then he did it again, and again, and again.

Every throw was exactly the same—perfect.

It was almost inhuman. It was almost like he was a machine.

"His aim is decent," Tsunade said from above, and Hiruzen had to stop his eyebrow from raising.

Decent? He knows he is an aging man, but if his memory was correct, Tsunade had quite the abysmal throw at Satoshi's age.

What was it she said…? Why throw something when you can punch it into the ground?

Danzo's eyes trailed Satoshi's form and the thrown shuriken over and over.

"I concur," Danzo said, matter of fact.

Now, that was unexpected—Danzo agreeing with Tsunade. But he supposed they were right.

At such a young age, Satoshi's aim was better than many of his seniors.

The testing progressed, evaluating different aspects required of being a shinobi: Shurikenjutsu, fitness, stamina, chakra control, et cetera. Aspects that would be taught at the Academy.

They had to acquire as much knowledge of his capabilities before deciding as to what grade he would be advanced to.

As it remained, from what they were witnessing, Satoshi was years ahead of his peers. 

*** 

SATOSHI YAMANAKA 

I raised a hand over my mouth to cover a yawn. The testing had been going smoothly thus far, but I was more than ready to get it over with.

The testing they put me through was quite extensive, evaluating all aspects: My speed, stamina, decision-making, taijutsu katas, and so on.

But finally, the civilian, who was busy making detailed notes on his clipboard, spoke.

"Good," he looked down at his watch. "We will conclude with a spar. Yukimi-chan, if you would please."

I remained unmoved as the Nara girl, a little more than twice my age, huffed her way up from her stoop.

"Sure you want to spar with those on?" she asked as she stood a few meters away from me, her eyes trailing to my feet.

"Thank you for your concern," I replied, "but I'm okay."

"Suite yourself," she said with a sigh.

"Rules are simple." The chunin said. "Try to do your best for five minutes. Show us everything you got."

I tilted my head to the side. "That's it?"

He spoke while writing more notes on his clipboard. "Correct. That's it. We're just evaluating your capabilities, so come at Yukimi-chan with your all. You have five minutes, so do your best."

That was all I needed to hear.

"Understood."

 ***

HIRUZEN SARUTOBI 

It looks like the spar is about to begin, Hiruzen thought, watching as the little Nara positioned herself at a reasonable distance from Satoshi.

They both raised their hands in the seal of confrontation, signaling the start of the match.

Satoshi took the first move—a small step forward, geta meeting dirt—and after a beat, the Nara's shadow beneath her snaked out swiftly and latched onto…

"What the hell is she doing?" Tsunade asked as she leaned closer to the crystal ball.

Her question was warranted.

The Nara's shadow-binding technique, typically so precise and deliberate, didn't latch onto Satoshi, but instead, the chunin conducting the test.

Hiruzen didn't need to hear the chunin to know what he was screaming.

Satoshi, meanwhile, began taking slow steps her way. His hands hung loosely at his sides, his expression… bored?

"Genjutsu," Hiruzen muttered.

"Huh?" Tsunade blinked.

"Hard of hearing?" Danzo's voice cut in.

The air in the office grew thick as Tsunade's chakra spiked in response, rattling the very walls of the room. Hiruzen turned toward her. "Tsunade, please…"

Her chakra receded reluctantly, though her glare if infused with chakra, might have killed Danzo a thousand times over.

"Danzo," Hiruzen added as his gaze settled on him. The warning was subtle but unmistakable.

The office stilled again, and Hiruzen exhaled silently, relieved—for now—that his office wouldn't be reduced to rubble. Again.

He turned his attention back to the ball.

"It's been reported that Satoshi is talented at genjutsu," he said, "but…" his words trailed off.

But I wasn't aware it was to this extent.

The boy had cast the genjutsu without any hand seals. No outward movements other than a footstep—a genjutsu to ensnare a genin a little more than twice his age.

Naturally, being named the Professor, Hiruzen's thoughts went to how Satoshi did it. It didn't take long for him to come to a couple of conclusions.

Danzo shifted slightly, his expression as unreadable as ever, though his gaze remained fixed on the crystal ball.

Back on the field, the Nara suddenly began to stir, blinking rapidly as though trying to clear fog from her mind.

Her shadow began retracting back to her feet.

Then Satoshi took another step.

The Nara's eyes widened, and she dropped to the ground in a sudden roll, as if dodging something that wasn't there, before lashing out with a low kick that hit… nothing but empty air.

"Hm," Tsunade hummed beside him, eyes narrowing. 

The Nara flipped backward, and her shadow slithered from beneath her again. It stopped when it reached absolutely nothing in the middle of the field. 

Surprisingly, Danzo let out a huff of what Hiruzen assumed to be mild amusement as a slow grin spread across the Nara's face.

She began walking forward, speaking casually now. But there was no one there.

Satoshi approached her—a meter between—and lifted his hands, forming a square with his fingers, framing the Nara's back as though capturing a photograph.

As if jolted by lightning, she froze mid-step, and then she fell to the ground with a shudder.

Satoshi stopped walking.

His gaze shifted up to the civilian chunin, and he spoke.

The chunin looked… shaken. Almost frightened. But he quickly collected himself and nodded rigidly.

Satoshi said something else and dropped his hands; the Nara on the ground went still, then, after a beat, regained control over her body.

She pushed herself to her feet unsteadily, her expression dazed and confused.

"Did he just…" Tsunade went to ask.

"Yes," Hiruzen replied, his hands folded under his chin as he leaned forward slightly. "Yes, he did." 

Silence was the only response Danzo offered. 

*** 

SATOSHI YAMANAKA 

Well, glad that's over. I wonder how Shisui did. 

*** 

Meanwhile, thirty minutes with Shisui… 

"… Um… Shisui is the winner."

Shisui removed the kunai he held at the teenager's neck, took a step back, and gave a shallow bow. His chest rose and fell, breath deep and somewhat labored.

"Thank you for going easy on me."

Both chunin and young genin looked at Shisui, wide-eyed, the same thought flashing through their minds:

He (I) didn't go easy on you!