Naruto: The Shameless Uchiha Tycoon

At exactly five minutes to six, Ren knocked on the front door of the main Uchiha household.

He had swapped his midnight-blue overcoat for a comfortable, high-quality dark grey yukata. Standing right behind him, towering over the porch awning, was Kakuzu. The immortal missing-nin had actually followed Ren’s instructions, changing into a stiff, deep olive merchant’s kimono. He looked incredibly out of place, like a mountain troll awkwardly stuffed into formal wear.

The sliding door clicked open.

Mikoto Uchiha stood in the entryway. She was heavily pregnant, one hand resting on her swollen stomach, but her dark eyes were bright and entirely focused.

She didn’t look at the S-rank bounty hunter looming on her porch. She didn’t look at the polished, expensive fabric of Ren’s clothing. She just looked at her son’s face.

”Five years,” Mikoto said, her voice a dangerous, maternal mix of joy and absolute fury.

Before Ren could offer a smooth greeting, she stepped forward and pulled him into a tight, crushing hug. Ren let out a soft laugh, wrapping his arms around his mother. For all his wealth and political leverage, in this doorway, he was just a kid who had missed too many holidays.

”I’m home, Mom,” Ren said warmly.

”You’re entirely too thin,” Mikoto scolded, pulling back to pinch his cheek. ”And you didn’t write nearly enough.”

She finally looked past him, her eyes landing on the giant standing on her porch. Kakuzu stared down at the matriarch of the Uchiha clan. His glowing green eyes were cold, calculating, and inherently terrifying.

Mikoto didn’t even blink.

”You must be Kakuzu-san,” Mikoto smiled warmly, clapping her hands together. ”Ren wrote that you take very good care of his accounts. Please, come in. I have slippers that should fit you.”

Kakuzu stared at her. He had fought the First Hokage. He had ripped the beating hearts out of hundreds of elite shinobi. But faced with a pregnant woman cheerfully offering him house slippers, his brain temporarily stalled.

He looked at Ren for guidance. Ren just smirked and walked inside.

Kakuzu silently removed his sandals, forced his massive feet into a pair of woven guest slippers, and ducked awkwardly to clear the doorframe.

”Brother.”

Ren stopped in the hallway. Standing near the entrance to the living room was Itachi. At twelve years old, he was already wearing the standard Uchiha high-collared shirt, his posture perfectly straight, his dark eyes sharp and unsettlingly observant.

”Look at you,” Ren smiled, walking over and ruffling his little brother’s hair, completely ignoring Itachi’s quiet sigh of protest. ”Mom says you’ve been interrogating the clan doctors.”

”I was merely compiling data on prenatal chakra development,” Itachi corrected politely, adjusting his hair. He looked past Ren, his eyes briefly locking onto Kakuzu. Itachi’s gaze sharpened, instantly recognizing the immense threat level of the man, but he didn’t reach for a weapon. He looked back at Ren.

”The fifty guards you brought into the compound,” Itachi said, his voice dropping into a serious, analytical tone. ”They are wearing standard civilian uniforms, but their footwork is strictly military. If you are masking a private security force as civilian laborers, how are you bypassing the regional toll taxes on the eastern road?”

Ren stared at his twelve-year-old brother. He felt a profound, overwhelming surge of pride.

”We don’t bypass the tolls,” Ren answered, keeping his voice equally serious. ”We own the transport company that collects them. We pay the tax to ourselves and write it off as a corporate operating expense.”

Itachi’s eyes widened slightly in genuine realization. He nodded slowly, committing the loophole to memory. ”Fascinating. A closed-loop asset transfer.”

Kakuzu, who had been silently judging the structural integrity of the hallway, paused. He looked down at the twelve-year-old boy. For the first time since entering the village, a look of profound respect crossed the immortal killer’s face.

Dinner was an exercise in intense, suffocating awkwardness.

Fugaku sat at the head of the low dining table, staring a hole into his grilled mackerel. He refused to look at Kakuzu. Every time the clan head tried to assert his presence, his eyes would flick to the seven-foot-tall monster sitting cross-legged in his dining room, delicately holding a cheap porcelain teacup with two massive, scarred fingers.

Mikoto, on the other hand, was a flawless hostess.

”So, Kakuzu-san,” Mikoto asked cheerfully, passing him a bowl of miso soup. ”Ren tells me you handle all of his financial planning. That must be a very stressful job.”

”It has its challenges,” Kakuzu rumbled. He took a sip of the green tea Mikoto had poured for him.

Kakuzu paused. His glowing green eyes narrowed slightly as he stared down into the cup. It was standard, mass-produced civilian leaf. Not the premium, hand-picked mountain blends they drank in the Capital. Kakuzu looked around the room, silently calculating the value of the Uchiha compound’s real estate, and felt deeply offended by Fugaku’s lack of liquid assets.

”I ensure Ren’s capital remains secure,” Kakuzu continued, setting the cheap tea down. ”And I eliminate any... liabilities... that threaten our revenue.”

”That’s so wonderful,” Mikoto beamed, entirely missing the lethal implication of the word liabilities. She scooped an extra portion of rice into Kakuzu’s bowl. ”You must work up such an appetite. Eat up, please. It’s on the house.”

Kakuzu stared at the extra rice. Free food.

The missing-nin didn’t argue. He picked up his chopsticks and began to eat with mechanical efficiency.

Fugaku cleared his throat heavily, finally breaking his silence. He looked at Ren.

”The elders are in an uproar,” Fugaku said, his voice stern. ”The spectacle you made this afternoon was entirely unnecessary. They expected you to return quietly. Instead, you commandeered a property and stationed armed men across from the main shrine.”

”I was just moving in, Dad,” Ren replied casually, picking apart his fish. ”I didn’t realize buying new furniture was a clan offense.”

”Do not play coy with me,” Fugaku warned. ”They have summoned you to the main shrine tomorrow morning. They intend to discuss your operations in the Capital. And, more importantly, they intend to discuss your financial obligations to the clan.”

”Obligations?” Ren smiled, taking a sip of his soup. ”I’ll gladly meet with them. But if they think they’re getting a percentage of my money just because we share a last name, they are going to be deeply disappointed.”

Fugaku sighed, rubbing his temples. He looked exhausted. The dynamic had shifted so drastically that he didn’t even know how to advise his son anymore.

”They hold a great deal of influence, Ren,” Fugaku said quietly. ”Do not underestimate them.”

”I grew up, Dad,” Ren replied, his tone softening just a fraction. He looked at his mother’s swollen stomach, then at Itachi, who was quietly taking mental notes on the conversation. ”And I realized that influence doesn’t keep a roof over your head or your supply lines secure. Power does. I just chose a different kind of power than the Sharingan.”

The table went quiet. Even Kakuzu paused his eating, glancing at Ren with mild approval.

Mikoto smiled softly, breaking the tension. She reached across the table and placed a warm hand on Ren’s arm.

”Well, whatever kind of power you chose,” Mikoto said warmly, ”I’m just glad you’re home in time for the baby.”

Ren smiled back. ”Me too, Mom.”

He meant it. Looking around the small, modest dining room, Ren felt the sharp, protective instincts of his reincarnated knowledge flare up.

Now, he just had to make sure a giant orange fox didn’t burn this house to the ground.

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