Naruto: The Shameless Uchiha Tycoon

Late July in the Hidden Leaf Village was oppressively hot. The air was thick with humidity, and the deafening drone of cicadas echoed through the trees of the Uchiha compound.

But outside the main household’s master bedroom, it was entirely silent.

Ren sat on the edge of the wooden engawa, his midnight-blue overcoat discarded in favor of a breathable, short-sleeved dark shirt. Next to him sat twelve-year-old Itachi. The prodigy’s posture was perfectly straight, his hands resting neatly on his knees, but the rapid, rhythmic tapping of his index finger betrayed his nerves.

A few feet away, Fugaku Uchiha was pacing a trench into the dirt courtyard. The clan head had his arms crossed tightly over his chest, glaring at the sliding paper doors of the bedroom as if he could intimidate the birthing process into moving faster.

”The infant mortality rate in hidden villages dropped by forty-two percent after Tsunade-sama introduced the standard medical-nin deployment protocols,” Itachi stated quietly, staring straight ahead at the garden. ”Statistically speaking, Mother is in the safest possible environment.”

Ren looked down at his younger brother. Itachi was trying to logic his way out of being terrified.

”She’s fine, Itachi,” Ren said softly, bumping his shoulder against his brother’s. ”Mom is the toughest person in this entire compound. She survived raising me, didn’t she? A baby is going to be a walk in the park compared to that.”

Itachi’s rigid posture relaxed just a fraction. A faint, highly subtle smirk tugged at the corner of the twelve-year-old’s mouth. ”That is a mathematically sound observation. You were an incredibly difficult toddler.”

”I was a visionary,” Ren corrected, ruffling Itachi’s neatly combed hair, completely ignoring the boy’s quiet sigh of protest. ”And soon, we’re going to have another one running around. You ready to be an older brother?”

Itachi looked down at his hands. For a moment, the genius prodigy looked entirely like a normal, uncertain kid. ”I don’t know. The clan expects a lot from our bloodline. I... I want to protect him.”

”You will,” Ren said, his voice dropping its usual sarcastic edge, replacing it with a firm, absolute certainty. ”And I’ll protect both of you. Nobody touches this family, Itachi. Not the elders, not the Hokage, and definitely not the council. He gets to just be a kid. I’ll make sure of it.”

Before Itachi could respond, a sharp, piercing cry echoed from behind the paper doors.

Fugaku froze mid-step. The pacing completely stopped.

A moment later, the sliding door clicked open. A clan midwife, wearing a sterile white apron over her robes, stepped out onto the porch, wiping her brow with a towel. She offered a wide, exhausted smile.

”Congratulations, Fugaku-sama,” the midwife bowed deeply. ”It’s a healthy, beautiful baby boy. Mikoto-sama is doing wonderfully. She’s asking for you.”

Fugaku let out a breath that sounded like he had been holding it for nine months. The stern, terrifying patriarch of the Police Force practically sprinted past the midwife and slid the door open, vanishing into the room.

Ren stood up, stretching his legs, and looked down at Itachi. ”Come on. Let’s go meet the new management.”

They stepped into the bedroom. The air smelled strongly of clean linens and faint antiseptic.

Mikoto was propped up against a mountain of pillows on the large futon. She looked completely exhausted, her dark hair sticking to her forehead with sweat, but her eyes were glowing with absolute, unconditional love.

Fugaku was kneeling beside her, awkwardly holding a tiny bundle wrapped in a soft blue blanket. The clan head looked entirely out of his depth, holding the infant as if it were made of fragile glass.

Mikoto looked up, spotting Ren and Itachi in the doorway. She smiled weakly, reaching a hand out toward them. ”Come here, you two.”

Ren walked over, gently sitting on the edge of the futon. Itachi knelt beside him, leaning in closely to get a look at the bundle in his father’s arms.

”He has your hair, Mikoto,” Fugaku murmured, his voice uncharacteristically soft, lacking any of its usual booming authority. He looked down at the tiny, wrinkled face of the newborn. ”We will name him Sasuke. After the Third Hokage’s father. A strong name.”

”Sasuke,” Mikoto repeated softly, resting her fingers against the baby’s cheek.

The infant blinked, slowly opening his eyes. They were dark, wide, and entirely innocent. He let out a soft, tiny yawn, his little fists clenching the edge of his blue blanket.

”Do you want to hold him, Itachi?” Mikoto asked gently.

Itachi’s eyes went wide. He looked at the baby, then at his father. Fugaku nodded, carefully shifting the bundle into Itachi’s waiting arms. The twelve-year-old prodigy held his baby brother with terrifying precision, terrified of making a wrong move.

Sasuke looked up at Itachi and let out a quiet gurgle.

Itachi’s stoic, analytical mask completely melted. A bright, genuine, entirely childlike smile broke across his face. ”He’s so small,” Itachi whispered, entirely mesmerized.

”Your turn,” Mikoto said, looking at Ren.

Itachi carefully passed the baby over to his older brother. Ren took the bundle, supporting Sasuke’s head perfectly.

Ren looked down at the infant.

Sasuke Uchiha, Ren thought, his mind flashing through the decades of trauma, hatred, and manipulation this exact child was supposed to endure in the canon timeline. He was supposed to watch his family die. He was supposed to become a broken avenger, manipulated by Orochimaru, hunted by the village, and consumed by the Curse of Hatred.

Sasuke cooed, a tiny, pudgy hand reaching out to weakly grab onto the lapel of Ren’s expensive shirt.

Ren’s dark eyes softened. He gently wrapped his hand around Sasuke’s tiny fist.

Not in this timeline, kid, Ren vowed silently, feeling a fierce, absolute protective instinct flare in his chest. You aren’t going to be an edgy revenge puppet. You aren’t going to live in a cave with snake pedophiles. You’re going to grow up incredibly spoiled, obscenely wealthy, and completely untouchable.

”He likes you,” Mikoto smiled, watching Sasuke cling to Ren’s shirt.

”Of course he does,” Ren smirked, slipping effortlessly back into his tycoon persona. ”He can already tell who can pay him pocket money more than father’s salary.”

Fugaku rolled his eyes, though the faint smile didn’t leave his face. ”Do not start corrupting him already, Ren. I barely survived raising you.”

Ren let out a soft laugh, rocking his baby brother gently in his arms. The room was peaceful, warm, and filled with the quiet safety of a family that was completely whole.

But as Ren held Sasuke close, his eyes drifted toward the open window, looking out over the village roofs toward the Hokage Monument in the distance. The summer was passing. The days were growing slightly shorter.

The peace was beautiful, but Ren knew exactly what was waiting for them in October.

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