Naruto: The Shameless Uchiha Tycoon

Three acres of flat, undeveloped dirt sat two miles outside the eastern walls of the Fire Capital. To anyone else, it was barren land. To Ren, it was a blank canvas.

He walked across the dry earth, his charcoal kimono catching the afternoon breeze. Pakura walked a few paces behind him, evaluating the terrain with the cold, sweeping gaze of a veteran commander.

”The sightlines are too open,” Pakura noted, kicking a loose rock. ”If we build warehouses here, anyone in those woods can watch the cargo loads. We need watchtowers on the four corners and a ten-foot perimeter wall. Stone, not wood.”

Kakuzu stood near the edge of the property, consulting a massive scroll.

”Stone walls require hauling granite from the northern quarries,” Kakuzu rumbled, his voice muffled by the high collar of his indigo court robes. ”That increases construction overhead by eighteen percent. We will use packed earth and reinforced timber.”

”Stone,” Ren corrected, scanning the perimeter. ”We are storing millions of ryo in luxury cosmetics, Kakuzu. If a rogue fire jutsu burns down our inventory, we lose the royal concession. Spend the money. I want stone walls, heavy iron gates, and barracks for Pakura’s security teams.”

Kakuzu grunted, crossing out a line on his scroll and aggressively recalculating the budget.

A commotion broke out near the main road.

A dozen thugs marched onto the property swinging iron-wood clubs, kicking up dust to announce their arrival. They were led by a fat, red-faced man dressed in gaudy yellow silk, a heavy gold chain resting on his chest and a ledger tucked under his arm.

Pakura’s hand dropped to the lacquered bracer on her forearm. Kakuzu kept his eyes on his scroll, instantly assessing the approaching muscle at zero bounty value.

”Halt construction!” the fat man barked, stopping ten feet from Ren. He looked the thirteen-year-old up and down, sneering at the Uchiha crest on Ren’s haori. ”I am Trade Magistrate Enkai. I oversee the eastern commercial district. Who authorized you to break ground on this land?”

Ren calmly turned around. ”I hold the deed.”

”A piece of paper doesn’t give you the right to operate in my district,” Enkai spat. ”This is the Capital, boy. Any new enterprise requires a commercial charter. You need a magistrate’s seal to hire laborers, build kilns, and transport goods on that river.”

Enkai flashed a greasy, extortive grin.

”Those seals come with a standard district tariff of twenty percent of your gross revenue. Pay up, or my men will smash every brick you try to lay.”

Ren sighed.

”Pakura,” Ren said mildly. ”If his men take one more step, break their knees. Leave the Magistrate standing.”

The thugs laughed, gripping their clubs tighter.

Pakura vanished.

A sickening series of cracks echoed rapidly across the dirt field. In exactly two seconds, the laughter was replaced by screaming. All twelve thugs collapsed into the dirt, clutching shattered kneecaps.

Pakura reappeared exactly where she had been standing, smoothly adjusting her sleeve.

Enkai froze. The smug grin slid off his face as the agonizing screams of his men filled the air. He stumbled backward, staring at the Uchiha boy in pure terror.

Ren pulled a stack of heavy, wax-sealed documents from his obi.

”Let’s talk about jurisdiction,” Ren said smoothly.

He held up the first document. ”This deed was signed over to me by Lady Katsura, the wife of the Eastern Port Governor. She is a founding patron of this land.”

Ren held up a second scroll. ”This shipping lane agreement was drafted by Lady Shizuka. Her husband controls the river barges you just tried to tax.”

Finally, Ren pulled out the heavy cream-colored parchment bearing the gold seal of the Fire Daimyo. He held it right in front of Enkai’s pale, sweating face.

”And this,” Ren whispered, ”is an exclusive procurement contract demanded by Lady Madoka, the Daimyo’s wife. She expects her shipment of goods from this exact plot of land by the end of the week.”

Ren stepped closer, forcing the terrified magistrate to look him in the eye.

”Tell me, Magistrate Enkai,” Ren said softly. ”Are you trying to extort the Port Governor? Are you trying to tax the Ministers? Or are you actively trying to sabotage a direct order from the Daimyo’s wife?”

Enkai’s knees gave out. He collapsed onto the dirt, completely horrified.

He had just threatened the personal investments of the most ruthless, powerful noblewomen in the entire country. If Lady Madoka found out he was delaying her luxury goods, he would be stripped of his title and executed for treason before sunset.

”N-no!” Enkai stammered, bowing his forehead against the dirt. ”A misunderstanding! Complete misunderstanding, young master! You are exempt from district tariffs! Entirely exempt!”

”Take your men and leave my property,” Ren ordered, tucking the scrolls back into his obi.

Enkai scrambled to his feet, screaming at his crippled thugs to crawl back to the road if they had to.

Ren watched them flee, then turned back to his CFO.

”Political leverage is vastly cheaper than paying bounty cleaners,” Ren noted.

By nightfall, the heavy iron desk in the master study of their rented estate was covered in ink pots, maps, and tall stacks of ryo notes.

Kakuzu sat behind the desk, organizing three distinct ledgers. He moved with absolute precision, dividing the ten million ryo they had received from the royal treasury into separate operational channels.

”Three books,” Kakuzu rumbled, tapping the heaviest ledger. ”The first book is our legal revenue. It tracks the raw material costs, the worker wages, and the shipping overhead. The profit margins are entirely clean. The Daimyo’s tax collectors can audit this book anytime they wish.”

Kakuzu slid the second book forward. It had a black cover.

”The shadow ledger,” Kakuzu explained. ”This tracks the patronage bribes, the political ’gifts’ to the noblewomen, and the off-the-books funds we use to bypass local magistrates. It never leaves this room.”

Kakuzu tapped the third, smallest book. ”And the blood budget.”

Pakura leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. ”Blood budget?”

”Sabotage, route security, and hazard pay,” Kakuzu stated, looking at her with his glowing green eyes. ”When rival merchants hire bandits to burn our caravans, or when Danzo Shimura sends more black-ops to kill us, the cost of replacing the goods and paying you to slaughter them comes out of this book.”

”Understood,” Pakura smirked. ”Make sure it’s well-funded.”

Ren stood by the window, looking out over the glowing lanterns of the Fire Capital. The gold was secured. The land was cleared. The supply chains were protected by an S-rank monster and a legendary kunoichi.

He walked over to the desk. Kakuzu slid a pristine, official registration deed across the wood. It was the final piece of paper required by the Capital’s registry to formally establish their enterprise.

Ren picked up the ink brush and signed his name at the bottom, sealing the document with a sharp press of red wax.

He looked down at the official title he had just registered.

Uchiha Apothecary.

Kakuzu glanced at the wet ink. ”Apothecary? We are currently manufacturing soap and vanity lotions. That is a medical designation.”

”Soap is just the foundation, Kakuzu,” Ren replied smoothly. ”Vanity opens their vaults today, but we aren’t going to stop at cosmetics. Eventually, we are going to sell them stamina, youth, and survival. We are going to corner the market on biology itself.”

Ren set the ink brush down, his dark eyes reflecting the lantern light. ”’Luxury’ is a passing trend. An ’Apothecary’ is an institution.”

”Authorize the hiring of the construction crews tomorrow morning at double the standard wage,” Ren ordered, stepping back from the desk. ”I want those vats operational in three days. We have a royal court to supply.”