Reborn as a Yamanaka Genius

Chapter 4: Sherlock Holmes Who?



It didn't take me long to fully come to terms with where I had landed.

I had chalked up the whole "build your character to be reborn" experience as some fever dream or a warped figment of psychosis. Reincarnation? Skills and Loot Boxes? Seemed way too much like a lucid coma nightmare. But when the pieces fell into place, it wasn't just a dream.

Needless to say, that revelation short-circuited my brain. The whole day became a blur of disbelief and shock. I might have been drooling at one point, but honestly, who cares? I was still stuck in the fragile body of a two-month-old, unable to express a single thought beyond helpless babbling. It was humiliating.

When I finally snapped out of my stupor, I realized I had soiled my diaper again. Lovely. One of life's little joys, being a baby with no control over your body-or anything else for that matter. I couldn't talk. I couldn't even roll over without monumental effort. The utter helplessness stung the worst. So, I did the only thing my body was capable of.

I cried.

###

It took me some time, but I eventually confirmed it. One day, when I was being carried outside, I spotted the Hokage Monument off in the distance. Only three faces were carved into the mountain. Not one, not two. Three.

Add to that the unmistakable Konoha headbands everyone was wearing and the fact that people kept calling my parents "Yamanaka-san"... well, it was hard to stay in denial after that.

I'm Ino's brother. Well, sort of. I will be her brother... should be. At least one thing was for sure -my father's name is Inoichi. The head of the Yamanaka clan. And I'm the clan heir.

Being born as the clan heir meant expectations-a lot of expectations. But with the talents, I received from the loot boxes, and the Mage Class I picked, the pros definitely outweighed the cons. I could work with this.

So, I made a decision that night. As I stared up at the ceiling of my crib, tiny fists clenched in the blankets, I decided I would become powerful-ridiculously, absurdly powerful- powerful enough to crush anyone who stood in my way with a thought.

Yeah, that sounded good.

Power was freedom, and freedom was the key to enjoying this second chance at life.

Of course, to reach that goal, I had to quantify my goals. Power isn't some vague concept to chase blindly. I needed a concrete goal. So, I decided: S-rank? That wasn't enough. I had to aim higher. Sage-level-at the very least. Anything less would be a waste of my time and potential.

And with that thought firmly planted in my mind, I closed my eyes, already plotting my path to Sage-level as fast as possible.

###

There wasn't much to do as a baby-at least not when your mind was racing at the speed of a grown adult with the burden of knowledge from another life.

But what I could do was think.

The long stretches of silence gave me plenty of opportunity to meditate on my situation, which left me increasingly restless.

And then it hit me.

Chakra.

The energy of this world. A combination of physical and spiritual forces that flowed through the body like blood.

But here's the key: physical energy is honed through movement, action, exercise-but spiritual energy? That comes from the mind. From meditation, discipline, and focus- something my new family was known for.

I might not yet be able to control my body, but my mind? That was a different story.

So, with nothing but time and a silent room as my companions, I began to meditate.

My infant body lay still, but my mind raced. I imagined the chakra moving through me, coursing like rivers underneath the skin. It was difficult at first-like trying to feel the blood in your veins—but I knew it was there. I just had to reach it.

Hours turned into days, days into weeks, and then... I felt it.

A subtle warmth spread from my core. A current, soft at first, then more distinct as I focused. That was chakra-my key to everything.

###

It was around my first birthday that I realized I needed something more. Meditation alone wouldn't cut it. If I wanted to truly unlock my potential, I needed to build a foundation. And not just any foundation-a fortress for my mind.

A Mind Palace.

Mind Palaces were known for organizing knowledge, but I wasn't interested in merely storing information. I wanted to go beyond that.

If I could train my mind to simulate real-world experiences, if I could master techniques within the safe confines of my thoughts, it would change everything.

But first, I needed to protect myself. Being born into the Yamanaka clan, with all its mind- reading, mind-entering techniques... well, it had its risks. One wrong slip, one too-curious relative, and they might uncover secrets I wasn't ready to share-like the fact I wasn't exactly an ordinary baby.

I could already picture it-Danzo's creepy eye on me, or some overly zealous Yamanaka deciding to take a stroll through my thoughts. Not on my watch.

So, I started building.

###

I began by envisioning the core of my palace: a vast, floating island suspended in a sea of clouds. In the center stood a grand castle inspired by the Himeji Castle I'd seen in Japan back on Earth—an intricate, imposing fortress with gleaming white walls and tiered roofs.

It took time, weeks of mental focus, but slowly, the image sharpened, becoming more real with every session. I could feel the wooden floors beneath my hands as I crawled through its halls, smell the fresh air, hear the distant call of birds. It wasn't just in my mind anymore; it felt like another dimension, a world I could enter.

This wasn't just about memory now. This was about protection.

Once I had solidified the structure, I moved on to the more technical aspects. Inside the palace, I stored every bit of information I had in English-categorized, cataloged, and

encrypted.

I wasn't taking any chances. Using a polyalphabetic cipher, I layered my knowledge behind shifting codes that would change every prime number interval.

If anyone dared to break in, they'd find themselves chasing a labyrinth of dead ends, misleading decoys, and traps.

And if that wasn't enough? I locked away my memories of Earth. Buried them deep, accessible only with a mental key that I'd created.

If some rogue Yamanaka decided to poke around, all they'd find were fragmented memories of a baby learning to walk, falling down, or crying for his next meal.

I know what, how, a Mind Palace was to feel, to look like when I closed my eyes. It was always hazy, lacked depth, shape, tangability. But here, with the aid of chakra, I assume, it became

something more real.

Something... Alive.

I dusted off my chibi hands, laughing to myself.

Perfect.

###

With my palace secure, I moved on to the real reason I'd built it in the first place-training. Chakra control was the first hurdle. As a baby, I couldn't physically train, but here, in my palace, I could simulate it.

I envisioned chakra flowing through me, circulating like rivers, spiraling outward from my core and pooling in my extremities. It was slow at first-like trying to direct the tide-but each day I practiced, I got better. More precise.

The thing about chakra was that it wasn't just a physical force-it was alive. It thrummed under my skin, responsive to my thoughts, like a muscle that could be trained.

And the more I used it, the more it grew, addicting in its own way. Earth didn't have this... this power, but here? The possibilities were endless.

I began creating exercises-small at first-moving chakra through my body, feeling it respond to my mind.

In the real world, I lay still in my crib, eyes closed, looking for all the world like a napping infant. But in my mind? I was already walking through the halls of my palace, training.

This was just the beginning. Soon, I'd move on to jutsu, to real techniques. But for now, the foundations were laid.

I smirked, clenching my tiny fists. "First step to Sagedom, complete."

###

At two years old, there wasn't much to do except think.

I spent hours lying there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of boredom press down on

me.

I couldn't walk around unnoticed or sneak out to the library like Arther Leywin, and meditation could only fill so much of my time.

The way people smiled at me with those patronizing eyes, the way they expected me to marvel at the most basic things... it was grating. But I had a part to play.

That's why I didn't bother hiding my intelligence from my mother, Aiko. That wasn't me. And while I could see how much my rapid development worried her, there

was no going back. I'd decided long ago I wasn't going to pretend for anyone's comfort, not

even hers.

So, I asked questions. Lots of them.

Sitting beside her on the couch, I pointed to a kanji character in the children's book she held. "What does this one mean?"

"That one means bush," she answered, her voice soft and patient, as always.

I nodded, connecting the dots. "So then, with this character and this one, it says 'the fox runs

to the yellow bush,' right?"

She paused, and though her smile didn't waver, I could see the tightness in her eyes, the way

her fingers flexed slightly around the book's spine. "The fox ran to the yellow bush," she corrected gently. "Very good, Satoshi."

She was trying so hard to stay calm, to act like nothing was out of the ordinary. But I could feel

it, like a breeze brushing past me-the concern she carried. The subtle fear that her son, her precious firstborn, wasn't like other children. And she was right. I wasn't.

It had to bother her, having a child who didn't behave the way a two-year-old should. I could

sit for hours, studying kanji or reading simple scrolls, memorizing characters and concepts after seeing them only once.

But I tried to be considerate. I'd smile more than I needed to, hug her just enough to dull the edges of my abnormality. It was a small price to pay for the peace it gave her.

Still, I couldn't—and wouldn't be the child she probably wished I could be. No matter how

much I loved her.

I could feel it in the way she looked at me sometimes, the weight of her worry, her fear that my genius would propel me too far, too fast.

That I wouldn't get to live a normal life. A life free of the pressures that came with being a

prodigy in the Yamanaka clan.

She was right to be afraid.

###

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the living room, she glanced outside, checking the time by the length of the shadows. "It's about time to go. We'll read more later," she said, brushing a hand gently through my hair. "Put on your shoes. We're

taking a little trip."

"Okay," I said with a wide, sunny smile, hopping off the couch and running to grab my shoes.

I'd learned quickly that playing along made things easier. A little childish enthusiasm could

go a long way.

As we stepped outside, I grabbed her hand, sticking close to her side. Even with the mind of ann/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

adult, there was something about being so small that made the world feel... intimidating. The towering buildings, the bustling crowds, the sheer size of everything around me--it was a constant reminder of my current limitations.

But as we walked, I let myself relax a little. Konoha had its charm, after all. The village was a

forest as much as it was a settlement, with giant Hashirama trees scattered throughout, their roots and branches weaving through streets and between homes.

Rope bridges crisscrossed the canopy overhead, and every now and then, I'd catch sight of a ninja darting between the trees, using them as natural highways.

The first time I saw Konoha from outside the Yamanaka compound, I was struck by how

seamlessly the village blended with nature. It was alive, not just with people, but with the forest itself.

The trees, the bridges, the ever-present detritus on the streets-it all gave the village its name: The Village Hidden in the Leaves.

We walked for about twenty minutes before arriving at the gates of the Akimichi compound.

Grand, but practical, much like the Akimichi themselves.

A young, thick man with brown hair greeted us, bowing deeply. "Yamanaka-san, a pleasure to

see you. Would you like to come in?"

"Hello, Aios-kun. I'd love to, but I can't today. I'm just here to pick up some food Toshoka-

san promised me. Could you check if they're ready?" Mom's smile was warm, genuine.

She was always so... kind when dealing with others. No wonder people liked her so much.

Aios nodded and disappeared inside the compound, leaving us to wait.

###

By the time we got home, it was already dusk. I felt the cool evening air as we entered the kitchen, the smell of herbs lingering in the air as Mom set the bundle down on the table. "Do you want to help with dinner tonight?" she asked, her tone casual but warm. I perked up immediately. Finally! I'd been subtly pestering her for days, looking for any

excuse to test Jõichiro Yukihira's Culinary Package. I could already feel the culinary instincts tingling in my fingers, ready to spring into action.

"I do!" I said, letting a bit of childish excitement slip into my voice. It wasn't entirely faked-

I was genuinely curious to see what I could do in the kitchen.

Mom smiled, clearly pleased. "Okay, your job is to prep the ingredients. Start by washing the

rice in the sink."

I nodded, trying not to let my disappointment show. She always gave me the most menial

tasks, probably thinking they were appropriate for a two-year-old. I couldn't exactly tell her

that I'd rather be in charge of the entire meal.

Still, I played along. "The whole bag?"

"No, around three-fourths... or, I mean..." She hesitated, trying to explain what three-

fourths was to a two-year-old.

I pointed to the bag. "Where there's this much left?"

She blinked, then nodded. "Yes... That's right."

I got to work, grabbing a wooden block to stand on and pouring the rice into the bowl. My

hands moved quickly, washing the rice precisely, watching the water turn cloudy as the starch

rinsed away.

It was a simple task, but I couldn't help but feel the urge to do more. After a few passes, the

rice was perfectly clean.

"I'm done, Mom. What's next?"

She turned from the cutting board, clearly surprised. "Already?"

I nodded, gesturing to the sink. "See?"

She ran her fingers through the rice and gave a small smile. "Good job, Satoshi."

The next ten minutes were more of the same-washing, holding, standing around. I knew she

was being careful, trying not to overwhelm me.

But her idea of 'helping' was torture-not because I minded the chores, but because I could

see how the dish could be so much better.

When she overcooked the onions by forty-two seconds, I held my tongue. But when she cut the chicken thighs at a 36-degree angle with a 2.2-centimeter thickness instead of the ideal 45-degree angle with 1.5-centimeter slices, I had to bite my lip to keep from saying anything.

Finally, I excused myself from the kitchen. Jōichirō's cooking talent was a curse in this situation. I couldn't stand watching her butcher the dish any longer. Sighing, I slumped into the living room, resolving to take control of the kitchen next time.

Maybe one day she'd trust me enough to let me actually cook. But until then, I'd have to survive this torture.