Naruto: The Shameless Uchiha Tycoon

Through the narrow crack in the sliding door, Ren watched the scene unfold.

His dad leaned in, pressing a heavy, lingering kiss to his mom’s neck. She let out a soft sigh, her hand reaching up to gently untie the sash of her robes. The heavy fabric loosened, slipping off her shoulders.

The mood in the room shifted instantly from a tense political discussion to a heavily romantic, highly intimate evening.

Ren’s tiny hands gripped the wooden doorframe so hard his knuckles turned white.

They are about to make Itachi. Right now.

Panic spiked in his chest. He wasn’t going to let some edgy, traumatized teenager exist just to murder him in thirteen years.

He pushed his face closer to the crack, monitoring the threat level. His mom shifted on the futon, letting her robes fall completely away. Ren got a full, explicit view of her completely naked, her pale skin glowing in the dim moonlight. His dad let out a low, ragged breath, shifting his weight, visibly aroused and preparing to finally seal the deal.

Hell no.

Ren didn’t have a kunai. He didn’t have ninjutsu. He barely had the motor control to run down a hallway without falling over. But he had the one ultimate, unstoppable weapon in any parent’s universe: the toddler tantrum.

He took a deep breath, filled his tiny lungs to absolute capacity, and slammed his shoulder against the sliding door.

”WAAAAAAAH! MOMMY!”

He burst into the room crying hysterically, flailing his arms as if he were being chased by a pack of wild dogs.

Inside the room, the romantic tension shattered like cheap glass. His dad froze, ripping his lips away from his mom’s neck. His mom gasped, instinctively pulling the blanket up to cover her bare chest and turning toward the door.

Ren didn’t stop. He unleashed a high-pitched, fake sob and launched himself forward, diving literally between them on the futon.

”Monster!” Ren wailed, burying his face directly into his mother’s cleavage and clutching her blanket in a death grip. ”Scary monster in the dark! I want to sleep with Mommy!”

”Ren? Sweetheart, it’s okay,” his mom cooed immediately, her maternal instincts completely overriding whatever romantic mood she had been in seconds prior. She wrapped her bare arms around him, rocking him gently. ”It was just a nightmare. Mommy’s here.”

Ren peeked out from under his mom’s arm to look at his dad.

His father was still frozen in his leaning position. His jaw was clenched so tightly Ren could actually hear his teeth grinding. The veins on his dad’s forehead were bulging, pulsing visibly in the dim light.

His dad’s right eye twitched. Once. Twice.

And then, in the absolute dark of the bedroom, a pair of blood-red eyes suddenly flared to life.

Holy crap, Ren thought, burying his face back into his mom’s chest to hide his terror. He actually activated the Sharingan out of pure, unadulterated parental frustration.

”Fugaku,” his mother whispered softly, noticing the red glow. She patted Ren’s back, hiding a deeply amused smile behind her hand. ”Put your eyes away. You’re going to scare him more. I think he needs to sleep with us tonight.”

His dad let out a slow, agonizing breath. The Sharingan faded, leaving behind the dark, defeated eyes of a man who realized he was absolutely not getting laid tonight.

”Of course,” his dad ground out, his voice tight. ”He can sleep between us.”

Ren practically vibrated with victory.

Mission accomplished, he cheered internally. Take that, canon timeline.

That night was only the beginning.

Ren quickly realized that a single interception was not going to cut it. His parents were determined to produce a second heir, which meant he had to monitor them like an S-rank threat.

The next three weeks became a masterclass in tactical espionage action.

Ren studied the layout of the Uchiha home, memorizing which floorboards creaked and which doors slid open quietly. He timed when his dad returned from clan meetings and precisely when his mom finished the evening chores.

Every single time the house got a little too quiet, Ren struck.

On Tuesday, his parents were enjoying tea alone in the courtyard, the moonlight hitting them just right. Ren ”accidentally” knocked a heavy porcelain vase off a hallway table, shattering it into a hundred pieces and bursting into tears.

On Friday, his dad had finally managed to lock the bedroom door. Ren bypassed it entirely. Using entirely too much effort for a two-year-old, he dragged a wooden stool to the engawa, climbed up, and started throwing heavy pebbles onto the roof tiles right above their room, claiming he was fighting imaginary ninjas.

Whenever things got intimate inside, Ren ensured chaos reigned outside.

By the end of the third week, the atmosphere in the household was incredibly tense.

His dad was functioning on minimal sleep and maximum sexual frustration. The man walked around the compound radiating a heavy, murderous chakra that terrified the clan elders. He snapped at lieutenants and glared at anyone who made sudden noises.

His mom, on the other hand, was glowing with quiet amusement. She knew exactly what Ren was doing. She didn’t know why her son was acting like a jealous little tyrant, but she clearly found her husband’s agonizing frustration incredibly funny.

One evening, Ren was sitting on the porch, eating a rice ball and keeping a watchful eye on his parents’ bedroom door.

His dad stepped out onto the porch, his face lined with stress. He looked down at Ren. Ren took a slow bite of his rice ball, maintaining unblinking eye contact.

His dad looked up at the ceiling, his chakra flaring slightly.

”I know you are doing this on purpose,” his dad muttered, his voice dangerously low.

Ren just blinked innocently, offering his dad half of the chewed rice ball.

His dad didn’t take it. He just turned on his heel and marched toward the training yard.

I won, Ren thought smugly, taking another bite. No Itachi for you. The future is safe.

But as Ren would soon learn, there was a fatal flaw in his perfect defense. A toddler’s body requires fourteen hours of sleep a day.

An adult ninja requires three.

He was fighting a war of attrition against an elite Jonin, and his mortal meat-sack was about to betray him.