Naruto: The Shameless Uchiha Tycoon

By the second week, the rusty, abandoned teahouse had transformed into a highly functional goldmine.

Ren wiped down the front counter with a damp rag, enjoying a brief lull in the midday rush. The air inside the shop was thick with the rich, caramelized scent of boiling brown sugar and steeped black tea.

He leaned against the wood, crossing his arms and taking in the view.

To his right, a trio of teenage medical kunoichi were huddled around a corner table. They had just finished a grueling shift at the hospital, and their white uniforms were stained and wrinkled. But as they sipped their iced milk tea, the sheer relief washing over their faces was undeniable.

To his left, two newly minted Genin kunoichi walked up to the counter. They were panting, completely covered in sweat and dirt from a brutal morning training session.

Ren rested his chin on his hand, offering them a highly practiced, charming smile.

I really love this job, Ren thought, letting his eyes casually scan their athletic, toned figures. Solid eights. The standard-issue sandals are tragic, but the sheer stamina required to be a ninja does absolute wonders for muscle definition.

”Two boba teas, please,” one of the Genin gasped, wiping sweat from her brow. ”We’re dying out here.”

”I can see that,” Ren said smoothly, already grabbing two wooden cups. He scooped the pearls and poured the iced tea with the practiced flair of a seasoned bartender.

He slid the cups across the counter, making sure his fingers lightly brushed against the kunoichi’s hand as she reached for her drink.

”Ice cold, just for you,” Ren winked shamelessly. ”Though be careful. With the heat you two are bringing into my shop, the ice might melt before you can finish it.”

The kunoichi blinked, a furious blush creeping up her dirt-streaked neck. Her teammate giggled, elbowing her in the ribs. They dropped their coins onto the counter and hurried over to a table, whispering furiously and glancing back at him.

Ren scooped the coins into his lockbox, immensely satisfied.

Shameless? Yes. Profitable? Absolutely.

The bell above the front door chimed violently.

The light, relaxed atmosphere in the shop instantly died. The giggling stopped. The medics in the corner stiffened, their hands instinctively dropping toward their utility pouches.

Ren looked up.

Elder Tetsu strode into the shop. He was the exact same prune-faced senior Uchiha elder who had tried to forcefully inspect Itachi’s chakra coils years ago. The man didn’t bother waiting in line. He bypassed a glaring Chunin and marched directly to the front counter, his dark robes swishing aggressively.

He looked around the spotless shop with a deep, condescending sneer.

”Well, well,” Elder Tetsu rasped, his dark eyes finally landing on Ren. ”It seems Fugaku’s punishment finally instilled some work ethic into you. The clan is pleased.”

Ren didn’t stop wiping the counter. He didn’t bow. He didn’t even blink.

”What can I get you?” Ren asked in a flat, deadpan monotone.

”I will take a cup of whatever sugary nonsense you are serving these soldiers,” Tetsu demanded, waving a wrinkled hand dismissively. ”Consider it a clan contribution tax. An offering to your elders.”

Ren stopped wiping the wood.

He slowly looked up, meeting the elder’s dark, arrogant eyes.

Oh, you want a freebie? Ren thought, a cold, capitalistic rage flaring in his chest. You wrote me off. You called me a feral disgrace. You actively told my father to ignore me forever. And now you want to drink my inventory for free under the guise of clan tax? Not in this lifetime.

Ren reached under the counter.

He pulled out a small, beautifully painted wooden sign and slammed it down directly in front of the elder.

The sign read, in bold black ink:

UCHIHA ELDERS PAY DOUBLE.

(Police Discount Excluded)

Elder Tetsu stared at the sign. The wrinkles on his forehead deepened until his face looked like a topographic map.

”What is the meaning of this insolence?” Tetsu hissed, his voice dropping to a dangerous, threatening whisper. ”This building belongs to the clan! You exist because Fugaku allows it!”

”The building belongs to my father,” Ren corrected smoothly, leaning his elbows on the counter. ”The inventory, the labor, and the recipes belong to me. My system, my rules. That’ll be forty ryo.”

Tetsu’s hand twitched toward his kunai pouch out of sheer reflex. ”I could have this hovel shut down by sunset, boy.”

Ren didn’t flinch. Instead, he simply pointed a thumb out the front window.

Sitting on the front porch was a squad of four highly caffeinated, battle-stressed Inuzuka. One of them was chewing on a wooden cup so aggressively his fangs were splintering the wood. Next to them stood the three exhausted medical kunoichi, who had just stepped outside for fresh air.

”Go ahead,” Ren challenged, a dark, cynical smirk playing on his lips. ”Close the shop. But you go out there and tell them you’re the one cutting off their sugar supply. See how the active military reacts to an old man taking away the only thing getting them through a fourteen-hour shift.”

Tetsu looked out the window.

The Inuzuka squad glared back, their ninken growling low and vicious in their throats. The medics narrowed their eyes, their hands resting on their medical pouches. They didn’t care about Uchiha politics. They cared about their caffeine.

Ren had weaponized his customer base. He had successfully turned the village’s active military into a human shield for his margins.

Tetsu’s face turned an ugly, mottled shade of purple. He realized instantly that if he caused a scene and shut down the shop, half the village’s logistical and medical staff would riot at the police station by nightfall.

The elder violently slammed forty ryo onto the counter.

He snatched the cup of milk tea Ren pushed forward and stormed out of the shop without another word, nearly taking the door off its hinges.

The tense silence in the shop broke the moment Tetsu was out of sight. A few of the Genin actually let out a quiet cheer.

Ren calmly swept the forty ryo off the wood, dropping the coins into his heavy lockbox.

Rule number one of the Tycoon System, Ren thought smugly, wiping the counter down one more time. Never let them touch the margins.