Reborn as a Yamanaka Genius

AKIRA YAMANAKA

The night air was cool, with a crisp breeze that sent a welcome shiver down my spine as I made my way to Aiko's house. It was late—well past the time I'd usually bother someone with a visit—but this wasn't something I could delay. These past few days had been a whirlwind, stirring emotions I hadn't felt since I was an active jōnin, fighting my way through S-rank missions.

Shock. Awe. Even envy—though I'd sooner swallow kunai than admit it out loud.

Envious of a four-year-old. How pathetic would that sound if I ever dared to say it? But damn. Satoshi Yamanaka, at the age of four, had accomplished things that took most years to master. And that? That was terrifying.

Because if what I suspected was true, the whole village would know about him soon enough. The world might know. And that kind of attention? It never boded well.

 I knocked on the front door of the clan head's house, letting out a quiet breath to steady myself. This conversation wasn't going to be easy.

A beat later, the door slid open, revealing Aiko, her warm smile as radiant as ever. "Ah, Akira-sama, my apologies for making you wait. Please, come in."

I rolled my eyes as I stepped inside, immediately catching the scent of jasmine that wafted through the home. "How many times do I have to tell you? Drop the formality already. You make me sound like I'm ancient."

"You are anc—" She laughed, deftly dodging the playful smack I aimed at her shoulder. "—oh, don't look at me like that, I'm just teasing."

I sighed but couldn't stop the grin from tugging at my lips. I knew her far too long to take offense at her light jabs. She was my daughter, in all but blood.

Aiko led me to her tea room, a small, cozy space with tatami mats and a couple of candles flickering on the low table. The soothing ambiance wrapped around me as I sat down, watching her move with the kind of grace only someone at peace could manage. Aiko was always like that—calm, warm, her smile bright enough to make the world feel lighter. Satoshi really was her peace.

She poured the tea, the delicate clinking of porcelain the only sound in the room for a moment. "So," she began, sliding a cup toward me, "how's everything going?"

I took a sip, savoring the fragrant jasmine, letting it coat my throat. It was absolutely divine.

I need to ask her for some of this tea to take home.

But I didn't come here to talk about tea. Setting my cup down, I subtly signed the hand seal for privacy over the table.

Aiko's smile faded slightly as she raised an eyebrow, but she didn't hesitate. Her hand slipped beneath the table to activate the privacy seal built into the room. "It's on," she said, her voice now more serious. "What's going on, Akira? What could possibly require a privacy seal?"

I met her gaze head-on. "I believe Satoshi has a Kekkei Genkai."

The silence that followed could have swallowed us both whole.

Aiko blinked, her cup halfway to her lips. She set it down carefully, looking at me like I'd just sprouted a second head. "I'm sorry... What did you say?" 

"I think Satoshi has a Kekkei Genkai," I repeated, my voice calm but firm. "I'm about 80% sure."

Her face paled slightly, and I could see the flicker of panic in her eyes, the mother in her immediately going to war with the clan leader's wife. "And why do you think that?"

I tapped my manicured nail against the edge of the table, organizing my thoughts. "For starters, his chakra capacity is… astronomical. It's on par with an Uzumaki or a Senju—maybe higher. That's not something you see in a Yamanaka. Our chakra reserves are decent, but nowhere near that level."

Aiko's brows furrowed, but she didn't interrupt. She was well aware of her son's abnormal chakra capacity. All of us were.

"And then there's his genius," I continued, leaning forward slightly. "No, calling him a genius doesn't do it justice. He's… something else. A monster."

Aiko's eyes narrowed, and she straightened in her seat. "Akira, my son is not a monster."

I raised my hand, stopping her before she could spiral. "I don't mean that in the literal sense. But... he will be. In terms of raw potential? Satoshi's on another level. Let me be clear: he performed the Mind Transfer Jutsu on me in one attempt. One. I showed him the hand signs, explained the technique, and he did it perfectly."

Aiko looked genuinely shocked. I knew she was aware her son was exceptional, but understanding a child's intellect and seeing them perform complex ninjutsu weren't the same. Not even close.

"I've seen geniuses," I said, leaning back in my seat, "I've trained them. Inoichi took over half a year to master the Mind Transfer Jutsu. Transferring your consciousness into someone else's body requires an extraordinary balance of chakra and mental strength. Satoshi did it on his first try. Do you understand what that means?" 

Aiko's hands trembled slightly as she picked up her cup again, though she didn't drink from it. "So… you're saying he has an exceptionally high Yin chakra affinity?"

"Yes. The highest I've ever seen, Aiko. Higher than mine, even. I tried to escape the jutsu, but I couldn't. I was held hostage in my own mind. That's never happened before." I paused, letting that sink in. "And it's not just that. His ability to learn, to absorb information… it's beyond anything I've ever encountered. That Minato kid everyone keeps talking about? He can't even compare."

"Now you're exaggerating. You're—"

"I don't exaggerate," I interrupted, my tone leaving no room for argument. "Satoshi read and memorized seventy-three books in a single day. Not just skimmed them—memorized them. He has perfect recall. Clan history, political treaties, battle tactics, chakra theory, ambush strategies… he read them all. At this rate, he'll finish every book on the first floor within the month."

The shock on her face deepened, and I could see her struggling to process what I was saying. But it was the truth. No matter how insane it sounded, it was the truth.

"And that's not even mentioning his body's unnatural stamina and regenerative qualities…"

After a long pause, Aiko finally whispered, "This level of intellect, chakra capacity, memory… this hasn't been seen since…" She trailed off, but I knew what she was thinking.

"Since Kanemoto," I finished for her.

Her eyes snapped to mine, wide with disbelief. "You're comparing my son to the founder of our clan?"

I nodded. "Kanemoto Yamanaka was the only one in our history documented with similar abilities. He had unparalleled chakra reserves, an extraordinary Yin affinity, and a mental capacity that rivaled the Nara. He created most of our clan's jutsu, laying the foundation for what we know today. And Satoshi… he fits the profile."

Aiko stared at me, the weight of my words crashing down on her. She wasn't just hearing this as a mother now. She was hearing it as the wife of the clan head, the woman responsible for the future of the Yamanaka.

"Your four-year-old son," I continued, my voice softening, "is showing signs of inheriting the same abilities as Kanemoto. His potential is nigh limitless, Aiko. He could do things our clan hasn't seen in centuries."

"So." Aiko's voice wavered slightly, as if she needed to catch her breath after everything I'd laid out for her. She took a deep inhale, her eyes darting to the teacup in her hands, likely trying to steady herself.

Hell, I wouldn't blame her. The weight of what I just dropped on her wasn't something you could casually brush off. Not when it concerned your child.

"What now?" she asked, the concern in her voice painfully obvious.

The look on her face was all too familiar. Every mother had that same haunted expression when they realized their child had the potential to be something more—something that could either elevate them to legend or destroy them before they had a chance to live.

This world had a way of turning geniuses into weapons, chewing them up and spitting them out once they'd served their purpose. They were praised as heroes, martyrs, or legends, but in the end, they were all the same: tools for war. And I knew Aiko was thinking the same thing.

Her voice was calm, but the unspoken fear was clear. "I don't want him to become just another weapon for the village," she said quietly, staring down into her tea as if it might offer some wisdom. "I've seen it happen to too many others. To Inoichi. To—"

She paused, not daring to finish the sentence, not daring to invoke the memories of fallen family members, those whose brilliance burned too bright and too fast.

I set my cup down, the sound sharp in the otherwise quiet room. "You don't have to worry about that," I said, my voice firm, no room for doubt.

"Satoshi wants to be strong. He's made that crystal clear. And I'm going to make sure he becomes the strongest. By the time I'm through with him, no one will be his equal."

I didn't say it to make her feel better. I said it because I meant every word. Satoshi was a rare phenomenon, one the village—or the world—hadn't seen since Madara and Hashirama. A lofty comparison, but the truth.

He had potential that would make the Uchiha and the Hyūga look like amateurs. If anyone could change the trajectory of this twisted world, it was him. And by everything I held dear, I would make sure that boy lived up to his potential.

The flicker of doubt in Aiko's eyes didn't fully disappear, but I could see her trust in me hadn't wavered. She knew I was dead serious. Still, a part of me understood that no matter how much I trained him, no matter how strong he became, she'd always worry about her boy. That was what it meant to be a mother.

We talked late into the night about Satoshi's future, our words weaving together visions of his training, his progress, his inevitable rise. We both knew what it would mean—no normal childhood, no playing in the park with the other children, no carefree life. But that was what he wanted, and if that was his choice, we would respect it.

This was a shinobi world, after all. There was no space for innocence here, not for long.

Before I left, I casually asked for some tea leaves to take home. As I expected, Aiko handed over a small bag, her face lighting up in a fond smile.

"It's a blend Satoshi concocted a couple of days ago," she said, passing the bag over with the usual warmth. "Pretty tasty, right?"

I paused, staring at her, deadpan. "Wait. Satoshi made this?"

Aiko laughed softly. "Of course. Didn't I tell you? He's got quite the knack for blending teas lately. Said something about balancing the flavors and aromas just right."

My face must've given away my disbelief because Aiko's smile widened, clearly amused. I stared down at the small bag of tea leaves in my hand, my thoughts racing.

What can't this kid do?

I left her house that night with a head full of plans and a knot of disbelief twisting in my gut. Satoshi wasn't just smart, wasn't just talented—he was something beyond. A genius wasn't a strong enough word. And, frankly, it was terrifying.

But it was also exhilarating.