Naruto: The Shameless Uchiha Tycoon

The women started leaving the sprawling pile of cushions slowly, pulling on discarded robes and searching for their undergarments.

Katsura made it the furthest. She had pulled her crimson kimono mostly back into place and was already halfway to the salon door when Ren noticed her walk was slightly too stiff.

The heavy silk shifted around her legs, briefly revealing the thick black waist strap of the feedback harness still buckled around her hips.

”Katsura,” Ren said from the cushions.

She stopped. She didn’t turn around immediately.

”Put the demonstration model back in the case,” Ren told her.

Katsura finally looked over her shoulder, adjusting her collar with feigned innocence. ”I am merely conducting an extended durability test.”

Shizuka, who was still trying to untangle the twisted straps of her sheer black lingerie, immediately pointed a finger at her. ”You are just a thief. You want to take the prototype so I have to wait longer for mine.”

”I am securing company assets,” Katsura shot back.

Madoka was already sitting properly on the edge of the nearest couch. She had recovered most of her composure, though her hair was still loose, her lipstick was smeared, and her silk robe hung slightly crooked.

”You both ordered custom models twenty minutes ago,” Madoka reminded them calmly, taking a slow sip from her wine glass. ”Take it off, Katsura.”

Velvet cushions covered half the rug. A bottle of lubricant had fallen onto its side near the abandoned vibrator and a single stocking, while the tables were crowded with empty wine glasses marked by different shades of lipstick.

Ren sat in the middle of it all, his chest covered in sweat and scratch marks, smelling like five different expensive perfumes.

He held out his hand. Kakuzu would notice the flagship prototype missing the second he opened the case, and Ren was not going to explain to his treasurer why a noblewoman had walked out wearing it.

Katsura sighed and reached beneath her kimono to unbuckle the leather straps. She pulled the harness free and reluctantly dropped it into Ren’s waiting hand, the thick silicone dick swinging heavily from the front.

”The straps started chafing my inner thighs near the end,” Katsura complained. ”And I want my custom one moved to the front of the line.”

”Absolutely not,” Shizuka objected instantly.

Madoka didn’t raise her voice. She simply looked at Ren. ”I expect mine delivered when it is ready.”

Behind the carved screens, silk rustled as the other women searched for stockings, underwear, and whatever else had disappeared during the night. Nobody called the servants in yet.

Katsura lingered beside Ren after returning the harness. She slid one hand into his hair, bent down, and kissed him slowly before finally pulling away.

Shizuka immediately moved in and stole another kiss right after her, her tongue sliding into his mouth simply because she refused to let Katsura have the final word.

When Shizuka stepped back, she bumped shoulders with Katsura.

”You’re still a thief,” Shizuka muttered, but she reached out and pulled the crooked collar of Katsura’s crimson kimono into its proper place.

Katsura casually slapped Shizuka’s hand away, then reached out and fixed the twisted lapel of Shizuka’s robe in return. ”And your thighs are going to be bruised for a week from riding his dick that hard.”

”At least I have stamina,” Shizuka retorted.

Neither woman moved away.

Madoka watched them over the rim of her glass, finished the last of her wine, and quietly set it aside.

Before leaving the salon, Ren handed each woman a plain folded sheet.

There wasn’t much on the sheet: what they wanted, the size where it mattered, preferred material and color, any changes they wanted from the demonstration models, and where Ren was supposed to send the finished package. The last line asked whether a servant could accept the delivery or whether it had to be placed directly into the buyer’s hands.

Madoka folded hers neatly and tucked it into her sleeve.

Katsura looked at the paper and frowned. ”Can I not simply tell you what I want?”

”You can,” Ren said, picking up his shirt from the floor. ”But Kakuzu will still demand the written numbers. He trusts paper far more than he trusts people.”

Several of the women laughed. None of them had dealt with Kakuzu for long without learning how seriously he took written accounts.

Morning sunlight was streaming through the windows of the residence dining room by the time Kakuzu finally walked in.

He arrived expecting signed textile contracts and cosmetics ledgers. Instead, he found Ren sitting at the long table, eating breakfast and looking entirely exhausted. Katsura, Shizuka, Madoka, and two of the other women were still at the table with him. One wore her dark hair pinned back with a jade comb; the other had recovered enough dignity to hide behind a cup of strong tea while they finished their orders before leaving.

Kakuzu stopped in the doorway long enough to take in Ren’s exhausted face, the unusually quiet noblewomen around the breakfast table, and the stack of folded order slips beside Ren’s plate.

Whatever questions that raised apparently weren’t important enough to ask. His attention settled on the papers instead.

”Confirmed orders or requests?”

”Confirmed,” Ren said, taking a drink of water.

Kakuzu’s expression improved immediately. He crossed the dining room, picked up the stack, and started reading.

Whatever had happened in the private salon was none of his concern. The amount of money those order slips represented very much was.

”Half upfront for custom work,” Kakuzu said, reading Katsura’s slip. ”Red silk costs extra. Private delivery costs extra. And if you want yours made ahead of everyone else’s, add another thirty percent.”

Katsura lowered her teacup, glaring at him. ”I am one of Ren’s oldest investors.”

Kakuzu didn’t even look up. ”Then you can afford it.”

Katsura slowly turned toward Ren.

Ren found his breakfast considerably more interesting.

Shizuka laughed openly at Katsura’s suffering—right up until Kakuzu reached her order.

”Silver buckles and a different silicone attachment,” Kakuzu read. ”They will need a new mold for this. You are paying for it.”

Shizuka looked deeply offended.

Madoka quietly placed a heavy sealed pouch of ryō beside her order slip.

Kakuzu picked it up, tested the weight in his palm, and gave her the first genuinely approving nod he had offered anyone all morning.

The other three slips were no less troublesome. One woman wanted Ren’s staff sent to her estate for a private lingerie fitting. Another had ordered five vibrators after apparently deciding that sharing one with friends was beneath her dignity. The last wanted the feedback harness again, but with softer straps around her thighs.

Kakuzu calculated the total deposits. He wrote the final number at the bottom of his ledger and paused briefly, staring at the sheer volume of ryō generated in a single night.

”Is the new business still indecent?” Ren asked quietly from across the table.

Kakuzu closed the ledger. ”Indecency is completely irrelevant if the customer pays the deposit in advance.”

The estate manager entered the dining room a moment later, carrying a silver tray stacked with fresh correspondence.

He bowed and set the tray beside Ren.

Ren opened the first envelope, then the second.

By the third, he stopped pretending last night’s supposedly private preview had remained private.

Nobody mentioned what had happened on the cushions. They wanted the products.

Why wasn’t I invited to the preview?Lady Katsura’s maid mentioned a new private women’s collection. Send a catalogue.I want to reserve an appointment.I want whatever Lady Shizuka ordered.I will pay double the standard price for absolute discretion.

Ren slowly lowered the letters and looked toward the women at the table.

Katsura held her hands up. ”I haven’t spoken to anyone.”

Shizuka shook her head. ”Neither have I.”

Madoka didn’t bother denying anything. She simply took a sip of her tea.

Ren looked at the woman hiding behind her teacup.

She sank a little lower behind it.

Madoka set her cup down, her tone perfectly measured. ”Do not worry about the gossip, Ren. As long as the company remains entirely discreet, the rumors will only drive your prices up.”

She glanced at Kakuzu before looking back at Ren. ”Women in this city will tolerate plenty of scandal as long as it stays private. Keep their names off anything a household clerk can read. Send plain packages. And don’t leave records that a husband, rival, or curious servant can get their hands on.”

Madoka lifted her tea again. ”Do that, and they will keep buying.”

It was the same discretion that had kept the capital women buying his cosmetics, perfumes, and clothing for years. The only difference was that nobody wanted a vibrator or leather harness appearing in the household accounts.

As the women finally rose to leave, Shizuka hung back briefly while the others moved toward the courtyard.

She stopped beside Ren’s chair.

”When are you returning to Konoha?” she asked.

”Soon,” Ren told her. ”Once the factory orders are organized.”

Shizuka rested her hand on his shoulder. ”Two years of waiting is finished. The next time you come to the capital, you tell me yourself. I am not hearing about it from the textile guild again.”

She glanced toward the hallway where Katsura was waiting.

”You waited two years because you were slow,” Katsura called back.

Shizuka rolled her eyes, then leaned down and gave Ren one last kiss before following her toward the courtyard.

Madoka remained behind while Katsura, Shizuka, and the others headed toward their waiting carriages.

Only when the hallway had cleared did she turn back to Ren.

”My custom order is to be delivered personally,” Madoka said, her dark eyes locking onto his. ”Not through your couriers. Not through your servants. And certainly not through Kakuzu.”

”I’ll bring it myself,” Ren said.

Madoka nodded once, adjusted the edge of her sleeve, and walked toward her carriage with her usual unhurried composure.

Once the carriages were gone and the residence was quiet, Kakuzu finally put the finalized numbers in front of Ren.

The orders were excellent. The problem was making them.

The capital workshop could handle the ordinary products, but filling every noblewoman’s custom request would eventually slow down everything else. Ren had no intention of spending another month here personally supervising leather straps and silicone molds.

”Have the managers open a separate workshop for the custom orders,” Ren said. ”Don’t accept more than they can actually make. If the noblewomen have to wait, they wait. They’re already willing to pay for it.”

Kakuzu nodded.

”You handle the money, deliveries, and contracts. If somebody asks for something completely new, send that one to me.”

Ren was done babysitting sex toys. The workshop could make them, the managers could ship them, and Kakuzu could squeeze every last ryō out of anyone rich enough to buy them.

”Wrap the remaining capital work up quickly,” Ren told his treasurer. ”I intend to return to Konoha.”

Kakuzu had no objection, provided Ren signed the remaining account papers before getting anywhere near the carriage.

As Kakuzu gathered the contracts, the estate manager returned to the dining room and handed Ren a small, sealed message tube that had arrived via standard shinobi courier from Konoha.

Ren cracked the wax seal and unrolled the small slip of paper.

He recognized Tsunade’s handwriting immediately. She had finally finished reviewing the foreign-chakra compatibility seal concept he had left with her before his departure.

The note was incredibly short.

Come see me when you return.The idea is workable.I have conditions.

Ren read the three lines again before folding the note.

Kakashi immediately came to mind—the transplanted Sharingan that remained active every waking hour, steadily chewing through chakra that his body had never been built to waste.

Ren slipped Tsunade’s message into his pocket.

Across the table, Kakuzu was still meticulously counting the heavy deposit pouches from the noblewomen ordering harnesses, lingerie, and private devices.

Ren looked at the pile of capital orders, then at Kakuzu.

”Finish what you need here today.”

Kakuzu looked up from the money.

Ren tapped the pocket holding Tsunade’s note. ”We’re going back to Konoha.”

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