Reborn as a Yamanaka Genius

Shikaku's House

Wednesday, 12:00 AM 

Shikaku Nara sat on the cool engawa outside his home, releasing a deep exhale.

As per usual, his day had been long and riddled with troublesome complications.

He had just got home from the battlefield, and now, without a break, may he add, his hours had blurred by in a haze of war reports—accounts of fallen or critically injured shinobi, supply requests snarled by blocked routes, and endless bureaucratic minutiae.

Looking up, he basked in the half-moon, casting a soft, silvery light over the village, filling every shadowed corner with a mystique of unburdened peace.

He would have liked to remain there, soaking in the calm that seemed to run away from him habitually, but two familiar chakra signatures prickled at the edge of his senses from within the house.

His shoulders sagged with another heavy sigh.

Looks like his night was just starting.

Shikaku rose, cushioned sandals now snug on his feet, and made his way to the tearoom at the back of the house.

"You do know it's midnight, right?" he asked rhetorically, his eyes sweeping lazily over tonight's red-and-blond disturbance.

 "You've got to try these—" Crunch. "—Snacks—" Crunch. "—They're the best I've ever had!" Choza said, his words muffled by a mouthful of food.

Dressed in cozy red pajamas, leaning against plush pillows, he looked far too comfortable for someone invading another man's home at this hour.

Shikaku stifled a pang of jealousy—he wouldn't mind being in his pajamas right about now.

As crumbs back-flipped from Choza's mouth onto Yoshino's pristine new rug—that, must he mention, cost more than an arm and a leg)—he did his best to remain impassive.

No matter how much he'd clean it, she'd definitely notice by morning—not that he planned on putting much effort towards the task.

Shikaku couldn't help but brace himself for the inevitable lecture.

Another sigh slipped from his lips.

Taking a seat across from Inoichi, who conveniently already set up the Shogi board, Shikaku accepted a warm, surprisingly sweet-smelling pastry Choza pressed into his hands—forcefully, no less.

Which, all things considered, was quite bizarre. Choza did not share food—ever. 

"So-pa-pi-ya," Inoichi intoned, drawing out the syllables as though the word were foreign to him—it sure was for Shikaku.

"Huh?" Shikaku's gaze flicked up from the pastry, one brow raised.

Pointing at the treat, Inoichi repeated, "Satoshi calls it a so-pa-pi-ya. It's great by itself but tastes even better with honey."

Shikaku's eyes widened a tad in recognition.

Satoshi. Inoichi's son. The boy who has quietly upended Konoha's inner workings—or at least, that's what it felt like.

He would know. Shikaku had a front-row seat to the village's classified documents and a direct line to the Hokage, whose curiosity about the boy was anything but subtle.

Hiruzen had mentioned him in passing more than once, casually probing Shikaku for insight.

Being a seasoned practitioner of keep-my-lips-shut, Shikaku had offered little beyond the obvious.

He's smart. Artistic. And mature for his age. The rest he left unsaid.

If Hiruzen wanted more, he could discover it himself. Shikaku wasn't about to air his best friend's son's business—not that there was anything scandalous to share.

The boy was talented, plain and simple.

The latest report Hiruzen had shared confirmed as much.

Satoshi Yamanaka: Capable of performing genjutsu without hand signs. Successfully ensnared a genin twice his age into attacking the chunin instructor during training.

Shikaku had to stifle a laugh when he read the report.

First, because he knew the Nara girl who had "fought" (if he could even call it that) Satoshi. He'd already given her no end of grief about it.

Second, because he knew full well the boy had been holding back.

If Satoshi had wanted to make a spectacle, he could have opened the spar with exploding clones like he did against Inoichi. Or whatever he did with that Uchiha boy's mind.

Shikaku stopped his brow from furrowing. The incident hadn't been easy to overlook. A ten-year-old boy fainted in class the moment Satoshi and Shisui walked in.

The academy instructor's report was detailed as expected.

"Kiburi Uchiha collapsed suddenly after locking eyes with Satoshi Yamanaka. No prior signs of illness or distress noted."

It's obvious Satoshi did something to him, though what exactly was unclear. Regardless, Satoshi wasn't his child anyway, and Inoichi was more than capable of handling the situation if it ever came to that.

Shikaku dipped his pastry into a small dish of honey Inoichi slid towards him and took a bite.

He (almost) groaned in ecstasy when the bread coated in sugar and honey touched his tongue.

Sweet, delicate, pillowy perfection melted in his mouth, making him feel like he was drifting in a dream.

For a moment, the room dissolved.

He was weightless, standing on a pristine white cloud, gazing down at a lush green forest, leaves swaying in a breeze under an endless pastel blue sky.

The air felt pure, serene, like a place he wouldn't mind staying forever.

Then he swallowed, and he vanished, leaving him back in his tea room; Choza's grin was waiting to greet him. 

"So?" Choza asked, already halfway through inhaling another pastry.

Shikaku didn't respond immediately. Instead, he raised a hand and activated the privacy seal with a pulse of chakra.

The low hum that followed was familiar, and the three of them exchanged silent glances.

Whatever was said now wouldn't leave this room.

 Turning to Inoichi, Shikaku asked, "Does Satoshi have a Kekkei Genkai?"

Inoichi dipped his pastry into the honey again and took a bite before responding with a faint smile.

"Why do you think that?"

Shikaku leaned back slightly, his tone dry. "Well, other than the obvious—causing illusions with food isn't exactly your clan's specialty."

"That's what—" Crunch. "—I said!" Choza chimed in, his voice still muffled by the pastry. "Honestly, I wish he was born into my clan. We wouldn't waste his talents."

He shot Inoichi a pointed look, but Inoichi only chuckled, entirely unbothered. "Yeah. We think he has one."

Choza, distracted mid-bite, missed his mouth entirely.

"Since when?" Shikaku asked, moving a piece on the Shogi board.

"Since he was four," Inoichi answered, countering the move.

Choza hummed. "And you think it's food-related?"

"No," Inoichi's lips pressed into a thin line. "We think it's the same one our clan's founder had."

Shikaku's hand froze mid-air, his brow arching slightly. He had considered a number of possibilities, but this hadn't been at the top of the list.

Yamanaka weren't known for genjutsu but for their yin affinity and mind jutsu.

Over the years, Inoichi had kept them updated on Satoshi's progress, and Shikaku had long suspected the boy's abilities couldn't simply be attributed to being simply smart.

Shikaku had tasted Satoshi's cooking before and had been caught in an illusion then, too. And months ago, the child painted a family portrait for Yoshino that they had to put in the basement.

If Shikaku stared at it long enough, the painting would pull his mind into it—he could feel the emotions that embodied the image. Hear the birds chirping; feel the wind against his skin.

If he didn't have strong enough willpower, he could see himself being trapped. 

The three of them shared a bond forged over fourteen generations; their clan's histories intertwined long before Konoha existed. So, it wasn't unusual for Shikaku and Choza to know bits and pieces about the Yamanaka clan's founder.

"It's good you've kept this under wraps," Shikaku said at last, his tone serious, eyes narrowing slightly—the unspoken warning hung in the air.

There were people who would do anything to get their hands on him.

"I know." Inoichi moved another piece on the board. "Oh, did you know he skipped a few grades the other day?"

The question was aimed squarely at Shikaku, who rubbed the back of his stiff neck, the thought of Yoshino's massage skills flitting across his mind. That would hit the spot right about now.

 To an outsider, Inoichi might seem modest, but Shikaku had known him all his life. This was gloating, Yamanaka-style: subtle, understated, and smug.

"I must have missed when 'a few' started meaning five," he said, tone flat, as he countered Inoichi's move.

His thoughts lingered on the deliberation he knew Hiruzen wrestled with after witnessing Satoshi's performance.

The written portion of his test was perfect—every question was answered correctly.

Another abnormality.

The test wasn't just about knowledge; it was designed to evaluate how the kids thought.

While some questions covered basic topics—math, history, the such—most required creative extrapolation.

For instance, if a bird has ten feathers on its left wing and eleven feathers on its right wing, which wing carries the most weight?

Neither—the bird's body carries the weight.

The exam's purpose was to see how they could think critically and adapt in the field rather than relying on rote memorization.

Satoshi's score impressed him, being that he was the one to create it.

His cumulative evaluations were all assessed as being worthy of immediate graduation. But that gave Hiruzen even more to think about.

Yes, Satoshi was gifted—seemingly more so than even Sakumo's son or Minato at the same age. But could the Hokage, in good conscience, place the Yamanaka heir on the battlefield at just five years old?

True, he'd done the same with Kakashi, but the results had been… complicated.

Kakashi already showed signs of overconfidence, coupled with a distaste for teamwork. Instead of collaborating with those he should rely on, he alienated them.

Minato's reports confirmed it hadn't been easy managing the dynamics within Kakashi's team.

The two boys consistently butted heads. The girl, on the other hand, swayed wherever the wind blew.

"Five?" Choza nearly choked. "He skipped five grades?"

Inoichi tilted his head as if considering. "Is that a lot?"

Choza stared at him, expression flat, before returning his attention to his pastry.

Apparently, entertaining Inoichi's antics wasn't on his agenda tonight.

"Is that why you invaded my house at such a delightful hour?"

"No," Inoichi replied.

Of course not, Shikaku thought dryly. 

Reaching into a bag behind him, Inoichi pulled out two scrolls and handed one to Shikaku while keeping the last for himself.

"Mark it with blood and channel your chakra into it," he instructed.

Shikaku didn't bother asking questions. It was late, his patience had run thin, and bed was calling.

He complied, watching as Inoichi deposited a Shogi piece into his own scroll.

His mind, as always, began connecting the dots.

"This…" His fingers brushed the edge of the scroll. "Please tell me this is what I think it is."

Inoichi's smile was maddeningly coy. "Try to take the piece out."

Shikaku barely hesitated, pouring chakra into the scroll. A Shogi piece dropped neatly into his lap.

Choza's reaction mirrored his.

Silence and a sweet, delicious aroma blanketed the room.

Then Shikaku leaned slightly forward, exhaustion melting away.

"What's the range?"

"We haven't found the limit yet," Inoichi said, finger rubbing the inner corner of his eye. "But so far." he paused for a beat. "It appears to be limitless."

"What?" Choza exploded. Shock and everything else present.

A perfectly reasonable reaction to the revelation of a two-way storage seal that seemingly didn't seem to have a distance limit.

Inoichi nodded, his casual demeanor at odds with the bomb he'd just dropped. "At the very least, it works across several thousand kilometers."

Shikaku stared, speechless.

His days were drowned with countless supply requests and limited paths to get the shinobi what they needed. But this—this was a logistical miracle.

If it didn't require so much energy, he would've shouted in glee.

"Only we know about this?" Shikaku guessed. And accurately, at that, from Inoichi's nod.

"Just us, Aiko, and the elders." He said. "There should be fifty scrolls inside. Twenty-five for both of you." 

His message was clear. Only their clans can access these scrolls—Shikaku and Choza had no problem with that.

"Who made this?" Shikaku asked, already guessing the answer

Inoichi's grin widened. "Who do you think?"

Shikaku didn't respond. He didn't need to.

The answer was obvious.

Inoichi's five-year-old son had created something that might have just shifted the war in Konoha's favor.