Reborn as a Yamanaka Genius

SATOSHI YAMANAKA

Years ago, after creating my Mind Palace, I realized that anything I saw could be categorized and stored, accessible with just a thought. I didn't take long to test that theory.

I started with the children's stories my mother would let me read, then moved on to books about kanji and anything else I could get my hands on.

The result was staggering.

As long as my eyes captured the page, the information was mine. Instantly logged away in neat, accessible files. If I could store information from a book, I wondered, could I store anything I saw? Katas, hand signs, the walking technique mom and dad subconsciously used to move without noise, and so on and so forth.

So far, the answer has been an astounding yes.

I suppose it was like the Sharingan's perfect recall. However, I suspected it might be even better since it was always on, always improving. 

And I wasn't about to hide my capabilities. Not when the stakes were so high. I knew what was out there—what was coming—and I wasn't about to waste time pretending to be an ordinary child. I had to become the strongest person in this world. 

Akira's little test yesterday had been a chance to demonstrate that. The speed at which I devoured those books wasn't a performance—it was simply how I operated. I answered each question she asked without hesitation, down to the specific page numbers.

I was here to prove that I could learn, adapt, and grow faster than anyone else. If she was going to train me, she needed to understand exactly what she was working with.

Unfortunately, the library session was cut short when Akira decided to "reevaluate my training plan."

When I returned today, I could tell Akira had come to some conclusions. I just didn't know what they were yet.

"Here's what we're going to do," she said, finishing the last stroke of her calligraphy on the hanshi paper. Her brush moved with precision, a silent nod that she was the antithesis of a novice.

She didn't look up as she continued. "Since you've shown me your brain is a sponge that soaks up information at an... unnatural rate, your task is to read all of the material on the first floor by the time you start school."

I glanced at the towering shelves surrounding us. There had to be hundreds of books down here. For most people, that would have been an impossible task. But for me?

I nodded. "Understood."

"You'll read until noon each day. Then, we'll take a break to discuss what you've learned. Afterward, we'll move on to jutsu training, followed by physical training to close the day."

I stopped my eyebrow from raising in intreague. "Jutsu training?" I asked. "You didn't mention that yesterday."

Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, fingers drumming lightly on the desk. "Is that a problem?"

Not. One. Bit. It was actually preferred. "No, Elder."

"Good." She waved her hand dismissively, going back to her work. "Now get to reading."

A beat passed. Even though I could guess the answer, I considered asking why she was suddenly allowing me to choose my reading material, but it didn't matter. I'd be reading all the books down here anyway, so the order was irrelevant... For me, at least.

I turned toward the nearest shelf, scanning the titles. The organization of the library wasn't immediately apparent. There were no distinct categories, no obvious system to how the books were arranged.

So, I pulled one from the shelf at random and glanced at the cover: [The Principles Behind the Yamanaka Mind Transfer Jutsu]

Oh, lucky me.

I opened it and began reading.

###

The first thing that struck me was how shallow the explanations were. The book didn't dive into the science of the jutsu, nor did it break down the neurological mechanics I'd been hoping for.

Instead, it was filled with broad, almost vague words:

'To master the mind, one must first understand its currents, for the mind flows like water through the body, ever-shifting, ever-changing. The Yamanaka's sacred technique is one of harmony, of allowing one's consciousness to drift along these unseen rivers and step beyond the confines of the self.'

It talked about sending chakra through specific hand signs to invade someone's brain, allowing the user to transfer their consciousness into the target's body. But there were no real specifics, nothing about which parts of the brain were affected or how the process truly worked.

Being a man of science, I expected more... I craved more.

With a quiet sigh, I snapped the book shut and walked over to where Akira was seated, still engrossed in her calligraphy.

"Akira-sama," I said, holding the book up.

She paused mid-stroke. "Hm?"

I flipped the book around to show her the cover. "Which part of the brain does the Mind Transfer Jutsu affect?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and for the first time, she looked mildly intrigued. "The entire brain," she said simply. "Why?"

I hesitated. "Just curious. It doesn't target a specific portion?" Like the prefrontal cortex or the parietal lobe. I thought. It, of course, could be a mystical technique, and all I had to do was let my mind drift into whatever unseen rivers the book said, but I had a feeling there was more to it than that.

"The jutsu affects the brain as a whole." She replied, matter of fact.

I nodded, not pushing further. "Understood. Thank you."

I returned the book to its shelf and grabbed the next one. Either the Yamanaka clan's research into their own techniques was incomplete, or it was truly as simple as targeting the entire brain.

If the former were the case, I would have to pursue medical ninjutsu as soon as possible. Acquire a technique that could scan the body in real time, something akin to an MRI, that would help pinpoint exactly which areas of the brain were affected.

Science and medicine were my bread and butter. But I've learned that this world relies on imagination and metaphysical concepts of flowing, harmony, currents, and blah, blah, blah.

Regardless, it was a problem for another day.

For now, I focused on my task, pulling books off the shelves, absorbing the information, and replacing them one by one. It was a repetitive cycle, but its methodical nature was soothing in its own way.

The knowledge in these books was broad, but each one was a stepping stone, pushing me closer to the understanding I craved. The more knowledge I had, the more jutsu I could create and improve upon. Knowledge was power, and I was more than willing to soak it all up.

 ###

At noon, I joined Akira at the table for our review session. Books were scattered around us, open to various sections, and I asked questions about anything that had caught my interest or confused me.

"What part of the body does genjutsu affect?" I asked, leaning forward slightly.

Akira barely glanced up from the book she was flipping through. "The chakra coils," she replied. "But genjutsu requires precise chakra control and intelligence. Few people can utilize it other than as a supplementary means to an end. And seasoned shinobi with experience can detect when their chakra flow is disrupted and dispel it quickly."

I nodded, already processing her words. "Is there a way to make someone think they disrupted their chakra flow through the genjutsu? Like adding a hidden layer to it?"

That made her pause. She finally set her book down and gave me a long, scrutinizing look. "Perhaps."

"How would someone go about doing that?"

Her lips twitched, almost like she wanted to smirk. "You're quite interested in genjutsu, aren't you?"

Of course, I was interested in genjutsu—anything dealing with the mind, really. It was criminally underutilized, and I saw its potential—particularly how Itachi wielded it like a scalpel.

People feared his genjutsu, rightfully so.

Yes, he had the Sharingan, but I had Limit Breaker and the Mage class. And on top of that, I had knowledge that wasn't bound by the limits of this world.

The human brain controls everything. If I could develop a technique that directly targets the brain, I might be able to sidestep its weaknesses entirely.

Imagine bypassing the chakra coils, striking directly at the neurons, manipulating electrical signals. The possibilities were endless. Could I create something revolutionary? Something akin to Sōsuke Aizen's Kyoka Suigetsu—minus the psychopathic tendencies, of course.

"It's intriguing," I admitted, nodding slightly.

Akira watched me with those piercing lilac eyes, her expression unreadable. Then she reached for something on her desk—a small square of paper.

"Do you know what this is?"

"Chakra paper," I replied instantly.

"And what's its purpose?" She moved the paper lightly in her hand.

"To determine someone's elemental chakra nature."

She smiled, a sharp curve of her lips. "Correct. Most Yamanaka have a high affinity for Yin chakra, which doesn't register on chakra paper."

A fact I knew from the anime. Only the big five: Water, Earth, Wind, Lightning, and Fire, would make the chakra paper react. Not having a chakra affinity didn't mean you wouldn't be able to learn it. It just meant you would have a more challenging time learning it.

Which, all things considered, shouldn't be an issue for me.

"That's why we specialize in mind-related jutsu," I added.

She nodded. "Genjutsu also draws heavily on Yin chakra. There have been Yamanaka who specialized in genjutsu, but most prefer to focus on using our clan techniques. Now," she said, holding the chakra paper out to me, "let's see what you've got."

I took the paper from her. It felt thin and rough, like papyrus. My mother had told Akira that I'd already been practicing chakra control, so there was no need for her to explain the process. I simply infused the paper with my chakra.

It split cleanly in half, the two pieces drifting to the table like leaves.

"So, wind nature," Akira murmured, crossing her arms. "Just like Inoichi. The rarest of them all."

Wind nature. Interesting. To be honest, I had no expectations about what my chakra nature would be. But all things considered, wind was preferable. It was everywhere. Around us all the time. It was the air in which we breathed. The potential was limitless. Just like me.

Plus, if Ōnoki could use Earth Release to fly, there was no reason I couldn't develop a wind jutsu for the same purpose. After all, if chakra could let us walk on water and walls, what was stopping me from walking on air?

"Satoshi," Akira's voice snapped me back to the present.

I blinked, realizing I'd spaced out. "Sorry, Akira-sama. I was just thinking about my chakra nature."

She raised a brow, clearly scrutinizing me. "You space out often?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but she waved it off with a sigh.

"Anyway," she continued, "since wind nature is rare among our clan, we don't have many wind jutsu at our disposal. But your father knows his fair share, so it shouldn't be an issue."

She conveniently left out how he learned his fair share of wind jutsu. But I just nodded and said, "Understood."

"We'll hold off on practicing it for now," she added, "but since I can tell you're so eager to learn a jutsu, I'll teach you the Mind Transfer Jutsu instead. You've read the principles, yes?"

"Hai," I said, straightening in my chair. "After molding chakra and performing the hand signs, I send my mind and "spirit" into the target's body."

"Good. And what's the weakness?"

"It leaves my body defenseless. And any damage inflicted on the target will affect me."

"Correct," she said, tucking a strand of silver hair behind her ear. "Understand this: while the Mind Transfer Jutsu is the backbone of our clan, it's not foolproof. If your opponent has stronger mental fortitude than you, they can resist or even eject you from their mind."

"How do I gauge someone's mental strength?"

Akira tapped a manicured finger on the table. "Age is a decent indicator. The older someone is, the more developed their mind is. Of course, there are exceptions. But you're safe with people your age... and me, since I won't kick you out."

"Understood."

"Now," she said, leaning back, "I want you to try the jutsu on me. You will not succeed today, but the practice will be good."

She showed me again what the hand signs were for good measure, and I quickly followed suit.

I lifted my hands and brought my fingers together into the seal she had demonstrated. My thumbs and index fingers formed a circle in front of my face while the rest of my fingers spread wide.

I focused on the center of that circle, visualizing my chakra flowing through it. My mind, my spirit—it would all pour through this seal and into Akira's body.

"Don't push too hard, Satoshi. It can sometimes take a year to lea—"

Her voice cut off abruptly.

The world shifted. I wasn't looking through my own eyes anymore—I was looking through hers. My body slumped over on the table, sat across from me, looking lifeless.

I lifted Akira's hand and ran it through her hair, feeling the unfamiliar weight of long silver strands. It was strange... controlling someone else's body, that is.

It felt natural, like it was my body, my mind. I could sense her presence, like a shadow in the back of my mind, but it wasn't oppressive. It was as if her consciousness was graciously giving me space.

What a remarkable jutsu!

It was actually easier than I thought. All it took was channeling chakra and envisioning being in her body. It was simple. Natural, even.

After what felt like a few minutes of moving my (her) limbs, I was satisfied with my findings and focused on returning to my body. With a deep breath, I released the connection, and just like that, I was back in my seat, blinking as my face rested on the table.

My nose was a little sore from where it had smacked the wood. I sat up, rubbing it absentmindedly as I looked over at Akira.

She was staring at me, her lips slightly parted, eyes wide.

She didn't speak, just... stared.

"Is everything alright, Akira-sama?" I asked, curious.

She blinked. Once.

Twice.

Then, finally, she snapped out of it. "... Y-Yes, everything's fine."

She cleared her throat, regaining her composure. But I saw the way her fingers trembled slightly as she folded her arms.

"Well... good job of performing the jutsu. Now, go outside and five laps around the compound."

I frowned. "Five laps?" That wasn't a short distance. The compound was actually quite large. "But I—"

"Go," she said, her usual sharpness returning. "I'll meet you behind the library to work on your katas."

"Hai," I muttered, getting up from the table. The adrenalin from learning a jutsu, using it as if it was as natural as breathing, quickly faded away.

As I walked out the door, a fleeting thought flickered in the back of my mind.

Maybe I should've picked the Warrior Class.

###

Yamanaka Library Training Ground

Time: Exhausted-o'clock 

"Again!"

The sun hung mercilessly above, its heat bearing down on me like a weight as I performed the Yamanaka katas like a machine. Sweat trickled down my neck, mixing with the dirt and blood that covered my hands.

My fists were a mess—bruised, torn, and bleeding. The knuckles felt raw, as if the skin had been scraped off with each punch. My feet weren't much better. They ached with every step, each backward shuffle followed by a sluggish forward movement.

I could feel the pain travel through my body, from my heels to the crown of my head, reverberating through my bones like a jackhammer.

Every breath burned.

My chest was tight, my lungs working overtime to catch air that seemed to disappear the moment it entered my mouth. How long had I been at this? Felt like days, but based on the sun's position, it was only hours.

Time had no meaning when your body was breaking down. I was reaching my limit—hell, I'm sure I reached my limit an hour ago, but this Limit Breaker skill allowed me to push past the wall of fatigue and gain a second, third, fourth, fifth, and now sixth wind.

I would actually be pretty excited about the effects of the skill if I wasn't so damn exhausted.

"Again."

Akira-sensei's voice cut me like a blade—sharp, emotionless, relentless. She stood a few feet away, arms crossed, her face full of indifference. Not a flicker of sympathy. Not even a blink when I vomited earlier from the strain or when my hands split open against the wood of the training post.

My small fists trembled, exhaustion flushed through me. I tightened my grip, feeling the skin stretch painfully over my knuckles. Sweat dripped down my brow and into my eyes, stinging.

Every nerve in my body screamed for me to stop, to rest, but there was no room for weakness under her gaze. No mercy.

I took a deep breath, my chest rattling with the effort, and threw another punch. The wood didn't budge, but my bones sure did. My wrist felt like it cracked on impact, sending a shockwave of pain straight to my brain.

"Again."

Grunting, I bit down on a curse. The word 'bitch' flashed in my mind before I squashed it down.

I thrust my fist forward again, though weaker this time. Blood smeared on the post, a dull thud reverberating from the contact. I was dizzy, swaying slightly, but still standing.

"You're not trying hard enough if you can still make that face. Again!"

I could barely hear her now over the roaring in my ears, the exhaustion settling in like a lead blanket.

But the command was clear. Another punch. Another painful thud. Blood smeared further down the post. If I were a normal four-year-old she would have stopped this torture hours ago. But because of this damn skill—

"Again."

I threw another punch, my vision narrowing, the post blurring into nothingness. My legs shook, my knees ready to buckle, but I couldn't stop. I wouldn't stop.

"Stop. That's enough for today."

The words were a mercy I didn't expect. The moment they left her lips, I collapsed. My knees hit the ground, and the cool grass cushioned my fall. It felt heavenly against my bruised, battered body.

Every muscle trembled, my breath coming out in short, broken gasps. My head spun, and for a moment, I thought I might pass out.

Light footsteps approached, soft against the earth, and then—relief.

A warmth spread through me, gentle at first, then growing stronger. It started at the top of my head, a soothing sensation that washed away the pounding headache I hadn't realized I was suffering from.

The warmth traveled down, soothing the ache in my chest, calming the frantic beating of my heart. It moved into my arms, down to my fingertips, where the stinging pain in my knuckles faded into nothingness.

I let out a long, relieved breath. Akira, it turned out, was not just a sadist but also proficient in medical ninjutsu. That meant she would break me, heal me, and break me again.

"Everything you do," she had said hours ago, her voice cold, precise, "must be perfect. Every movement, every kata, every decision. If it was any other child, I might let mediocrity slide—because that's all they'll ever be."

Her eyes had bored into mine as she spoke with a sense of finality.

"But you? For you, anything less than perfection is unacceptable. Now get to punching, boy." 

Kinda hardcore, right?

Well, I suppose the standards she—the clan—imposed on me were somewhere between the Uchiha's 'be a prodigy or don't bother showing your face' philosophy and whatever the Hyuga did to remind their kids they had one job and failure wasn't it.

The lovey-dovey Yamanaka approach had long since been thrown out the window—but it's what I asked for. What I required. So, no complaints here.

Anyway, it didn't change the fact that my training was finally over for the day.

My body was whole again, but my mind screamed for sleep.

A nap, I thought, would be nice.

===

[A/N] A beefy chapter for you boys and girls (3505 words, oof). I think I deserve some goodies, don't ya think? lol, jk. If you're liking the story, please consider leaving a review!