Naruto: The Shameless Uchiha Tycoon

The first objection came before Ren had finished saying the word academy.

Fugaku sat at the head of the low table with Mikoto beside him. Thirteen-year-old Itachi occupied a place farther down, younger than every clan officer present but clearly there for more than family decoration.

Half a dozen elders and two Police captains stared at Ren as if he had proposed turning the compound into a bathhouse.

”If you intend to open a preparatory school for shinobi training—” one elder began.

”No weapons,” Ren cut in.

The elder’s face darkened. ”Then what exactly are you teaching?”

”Accounting,” Ren said, counting them off on his fingers. ”Construction. Medical support. Basic sealing. Trade, contracts, food storage, emergency response, and how to move supplies without losing half of them.”

”This is an insult,” a Police Force captain barked, slamming a hand on the tatami mat. ”The Uchiha are the sword of Konoha. We are a warrior clan. We do not push pencils for civilians!”

Ren looked at the captain. ”And how well has that reputation served us?”

The room went dead silent.

”It earned us the village’s suspicion and a constant position on the casualty lists,” Ren continued, his voice dropping its polite veneer.

Another elder sneered. ”Manual labor is beneath this clan’s pride.”

”You spent yesterday afternoon in my office asking me to save three clan-owned shops from bankruptcy,” Ren pointed out flatly. ”Pick a position.”

Fugaku finally held up a hand, silencing the grumbling elders. He looked at his son, his Sharingan spinning briefly before fading back to black.

”You cannot simply reshape the future of the clan without approval, Ren,” Fugaku said, his voice heavy with authority. ”This pulls our focus away from the Police Force.”

Ren reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a thick stack of papers, dropping them squarely onto the center of the low table.

”These are the responses from the families my staff contacted over the last two days,” Ren said. ” Uchiha families whose children are not suited for combat service. War widows looking for a trade. Merchants, construction families, the Yamanaka shops, and the Haruno household.

The stack covered nearly half the table.

”You are giving them another path before the village decides they should become shinobi,” Itachi said.

Ren glanced at his younger brother. Itachi had understood the real purpose of the academy before any of the elders did.

”Will the academy accept children who already attend the shinobi academy?” Itachi asked.

”Of course,” Ren answered. ”They should learn at least one useful skill before graduation.”

Several elders bristled at the insult to the shinobi curriculum, but Fugaku remained silent. He stared at the enrollment forms. Fugaku looked through the names again. Rejecting the proposal would not make the demand disappear. It would only put the clan head’s signature on every refusal.

”The clan will review the instructors and sealing lessons,” Fugaku stated, keeping a grip on his authority.

”You may review them,” Ren replied easily. ”Approval is a separate service.”

Mikoto quietly poured a fresh cup of tea and placed it gently in front of her husband. She didn’t say a word. Mikoto poured Fugaku another cup of tea and looked at him.

Fugaku’s mouth tightened.

Fugaku sighed. He picked up a pen and signed the clan’s official charter approval on the top page.

Ren slid a thinner folder toward Itachi.

”You’re reviewing the student safety rules.”

Itachi opened it without complaint. ”Why me?”

”Because you are the only person in this room who can read forty pages without treating it as a personal attack.”

Several elders glared at him.

Ren smiled. ”See?”

Fugaku sighed and signed the charter.

”Mother remains the clan’s most efficient approval process,” Ren noted.

Three days later, registration for the Uchiha Civilian Academy officially opened.

Ren had already begun converting a large Uchiha-owned property near the commercial district into the new academy. Bright banners hung from the roof, and the line to register stretched completely around the block. Civilian parents stood with their children, talking excitedly, while a few Uchiha elders stood across the street, watching the proceedings as if they were attending a funeral.

Just inside the main doors of the temporary registration hall, Kakuzu sat behind a wooden desk, ruthlessly processing the fees.

A nervous woman approached the desk, holding the hands of two young orphans.

Ren stood nearby, watching the line. ”I promised free admission for war orphans and low-income families, Kakuzu. Process them.”

Kakuzu did not look up. He slid a massive, seventeen-page packet of complex financial verification forms across the desk toward the bewildered woman.

”Fill this out,” Kakuzu instructed the woman. ”Include your household income, property records, and two witness seals confirming financial hardship.”

Ren sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. ”They are children, Kakuzu.”

”Children grow into fraudulent adults,” Kakuzu replied, tapping the paperwork. ”Sign the bottom.”

Before Ren could overrule his treasurer, the front doors opened, and Kurenai Yuhi walked into the hall.

Kurenai Yuhi entered the hall and immediately studied the doors, windows, clerks, and filing cabinets. Ren had hired her to find out how easily his staff could be manipulated. The academy was going to store student records, merchant agreements, warehouse maps, and private seal designs.

Someone would eventually try to steal them. He needed to test his staff against genjutsu.

”I expected more guards,” Kurenai noted, walking over to Ren with a confident smirk.

”I am testing the managers,” Ren said. ”They need to recognize when they are being compromised.”

Kurenai didn’t waste time. She walked down the hall to the administrative offices and went to work.

The results were catastrophic.

Within twenty minutes, one logistics manager had signed an imaginary fifty-percent discount on premium lumber. Another revealed the warehouse code to an illusion of his furious mother. A third realized he was trapped in a genjutsu, panicked, and tried to bribe Kurenai with Academy funds.

Kakuzu stood in the hallway, his green eyes burning with murderous intent.

”I am deducting all imaginary losses from their real salaries,” Kakuzu stated.

Kurenai walked out of the last office, looking highly amused. She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms as she looked at Ren. ”Your staff is incredibly easy to rob. My rates just went up.”

”Fix them,” Ren said.

”I will,” Kurenai promised. She tilted her head, a playful, challenging glint in her red eyes. ”But I haven’t tested the man paying the bill yet.”

Ren paused.

Tsunade’s medical ban echoed in the back of his mind. No Mangekyō. No Black Vault. No Red Ledger. If he was going to survive Danzo’s next move, he needed to know exactly how sharp his standard defenses were without relying on the Mangekyō to solve the problem for him.

Ren turned fully toward her. ”Proceed.”

Kurenai’s eyes flashed.

The hallway vanished instantly, replaced by a quiet private office with polished floors and an expensive desk. Kurenai sat across from him, sliding a perfectly forged funding agreement toward him.

”Sign it,” illusion-Kurenai said smoothly. ”It secures the academy’s funding for the next decade.”

Ren read the first page, then the second. By the fourth section, his expression flattened.

Six percent loss.

Kakuzu would have set the building on fire before allowing that contract onto his desk.

Ren caught the inconsistency, gathered his standard chakra, and forced it sharply through his pathways.

The office cracked apart like shattered glass.

Ren was standing in the academy hallway again, exactly where he had been. Kurenai blinked, slightly surprised by how fast he had broken the illusion without even flashing the Sharingan.

”Six percent loss in the fourth section,” Ren said, adjusting his suit jacket. ”Offensive.”

Kurenai stared at him. ”That was what broke the illusion?”

”Bad margins are highly disturbing,” Ren replied completely deadpan.

Kurenai let out a soft laugh, taking a step closer.

”You are difficult,” Kurenai said.

”Careful, Kurenai,” Ren said, his dark eyes meeting hers. ”I bite back.”

Kurenai smiled, completely unfazed. ”Good. Difficult clients pay more.”

Kakuzu, who had been watching the entire exchange with cold, calculating eyes, nodded in absolute approval.

”Hire her,” Kakuzu said.

”I was already going to,” Ren replied.

”Then negotiate the rate down,” Kakuzu ordered, turning back toward the registration desk.

The light mood broke when one of the clerks walked past carrying a stack of forms.

Kurenai’s smile vanished.

”Stop.”

The clerk froze. Kurenai caught his wrist and studied him for several seconds, her red eyes narrowing.

”Someone put him under a weak genjutsu before I arrived,” she said. ”Nothing deep. A few questions at most. Whoever did it was testing how easy your people are to influence.”

Kakuzu looked over from the registration desk. ”Attempted theft of educational property.”

Danzo was the obvious suspect, but Ren preferred invoices with evidence attached.

”Record the trace,” Ren said. ”If it matches one of Danzo’s people later, add it to his balance.”

A few minutes later, one of Ren’s guards appeared at the end of the hallway with a nervous Hokage Tower courier beside him.

”Official notice,” the courier said, holding out a sealed envelope.

Ren broke the seal. Hokage Tower’s security office had scheduled a formal inspection of his private guards and every sealing course offered by the Academy.

Danzo had failed to take the lumber. Now someone in the tower wanted an excuse to interfere with Ren’s guards and lessons.

Ren handed the notice to Kakuzu.

”Add security law to the curriculum.”

Kakuzu scanned the letter. ”Theory or practical lessons?”

Ren glanced toward the long line of families waiting outside.

”Very practical.”

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