Naruto: The Shameless Uchiha Tycoon

Shisui blinked, his friendly smile faltering for just a fraction of a second. He looked at Ren’s outstretched arms, then down at the bandaged leg, and finally at Itachi, who was currently eating a dango stick with intense focus.

”Government spy?” Shisui repeated, tilting his head. He let out a good-natured laugh, genuinely thinking it was a joke. ”I’m just Shisui. Fugaku-sama mentioned you both, so I thought I’d come say hi.”

Ren did not lower his arms. He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the older boy.

Look at him, Ren thought, feeling a spike of pure, unadulterated rivalry. He’s polite. He’s talented. He reeks of village patriotism. He’s exactly the kind of guy who convinces little kids that dying for the Hokage is a cool and noble thing to do.

”Introduction acknowledged,” Ren said flatly. ”You may leave now.”

Shisui scratched the back of his head, clearly confused by the sheer hostility radiating from an eight-year-old covered in fake bandages. He looked past Ren, catching Itachi’s eye.

”I was actually heading down to the river to practice some shuriken jutsu,” Shisui offered kindly. ”Do you guys want to come watch? It’s a nice day out.”

Absolutely not, Ren panicked. First it’s watching shuriken, next it’s talking about the Will of Fire, and before I know it, Itachi is slaughtering the clan.

”He can’t,” Ren lied instantly, stepping directly into Shisui’s line of sight to block Itachi. ”He’s allergic.”

Shisui frowned. ”Allergic to what? The river?”

”To the outdoors,” Ren fired back without missing a beat. ”And UV rays. And exercise. And patriotism. If he gets too close to a kunai, he breaks out in hives.”

Behind him, Itachi took another bite of his dango, completely unaffected by the sun currently shining directly on his face.

Shisui smiled patiently, easily recognizing the blatant lie. ”I think he’ll be fine. It’s just by the docks.”

Shisui took a step forward, smoothly bypassing Ren’s outstretched arms with the effortless grace of a trained academy student. He reached out to pat Itachi on the head.

Ren reacted with primal desperation.

He threw away his walking stick, completely abandoning his fake limp, and lunged. He wrapped both of his arms and legs around Shisui’s right calf, locking on like a giant, heavily bandaged leech.

”Run, Itachi!” Ren yelled from the pavement, squeezing Shisui’s leg with all his might. ”Save yourself! Don’t listen to his government propaganda!”

Shisui froze, looking down at the boy clinging to his ankle in absolute bewilderment. He tried to take a step, but Ren was dead weight, dragging across the dirt.

”Uh... Ren?” Shisui asked awkwardly, trying to gently shake his leg free. ”Are you okay?”

”I will never let you take him!” Ren wailed, tightening his grip.

Slide.

The heavy wooden doors of the nearby Uchiha police outpost opened.

Fugaku stepped out, holding a stack of patrol reports. He paused, looking at the street. He saw Shisui standing awkwardly. He saw Itachi eating snacks. And then he saw his eldest son wrapped around Shisui’s leg, screaming about propaganda.

Fugaku’s Sharingan didn’t activate, but the sheer exhaustion in his eyes was almost worse.

He walked over, grabbed the back of Ren’s collar, and peeled him off Shisui’s leg like a stubborn piece of tape.

”Fugaku-sama,” Shisui bowed respectfully, clearly embarrassed by the situation.

”My apologies, Shisui,” Fugaku sighed, dangling Ren in the air. He looked at Itachi. ”Go with him. Watch his form. You could learn something.”

No! Ren screamed internally, thrashing against his father’s iron grip. Dad, you’re handing him the murder weapon!

Itachi simply nodded, finishing his dango. He grabbed Shisui’s hand, and the two of them walked off toward the river. Itachi looked back over his shoulder, offering Ren a small, highly entertained smile. He was clearly enjoying his brother’s mental breakdown.

Fugaku dropped Ren onto the dirt. ”Go home.”

Ren scrambled to his feet, dusting himself off.

Go home? Not a chance.

The riverbank was quiet, shaded by the massive, arching branches of weeping willows.

Shisui stood near the edge of the water, holding three standard-issue shuriken between his knuckles. He was explaining grip angles and wind resistance to Itachi, who was sitting cross-legged on a stump, absorbing the information like a sponge.

Twenty feet away, hidden deep within a thick patch of bushes, Ren was conducting an active sabotage operation.

I need to break his concentration, Ren thought, peering through the leaves. I need to make Shisui look incompetent. If Itachi thinks he sucks at throwing, he won’t look up to him.

Ren reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, polished silver hand mirror.

He angled it toward the afternoon sun. A bright, concentrated beam of light bounced off the glass. Ren carefully tracked the light across the grass, slowly creeping it up Shisui’s back, waiting for the exact moment the boy prepared to throw.

Shisui pulled his arm back.

Ren flicked his wrist. The blinding beam of sunlight hit Shisui directly in the eyes.

Shisui flinched, his eyes watering instantly.

Thwack!

The shuriken flew wide, embedding themselves into the trunk of a tree several feet away from the actual target.

Yes! Ren cheered silently, pumping a fist in the bushes.

Shisui blinked rapidly, rubbing his eyes and looking up at the sky in confusion. ”That was weird. The sun caught me.”

He drew three more shuriken.

Ren picked up a handful of small pebbles from the dirt. Just as Shisui took a breath to aim, Ren lobbed the pebbles in a high arc over the bushes.

Rustle. Snap. Clatter.

The pebbles rained down into the water and the grass right next to Shisui, breaking the silence and completely shattering his focus.

Shisui lowered his arms, turning his head toward the bushes. His polite smile faded, replaced by the sharp, calculating look of an Uchiha prodigy.

Uh oh, Ren thought, shrinking down into the leaves.

Shisui didn’t throw a shuriken. He just blurred.

Whoosh.

Before Ren could even blink, the bushes parted. Shisui was crouching right in front of him, looking at the mirror and the remaining pebbles in Ren’s lap.

Ren froze like a deer caught in headlights.

”Are you... conducting an environmental impact survey?” Shisui asked, crossing his arms and using the exact excuse Ren had shouted earlier.

Ren slowly lowered the mirror. He looked past Shisui and saw Itachi standing on the stump.

”I knew he was there the whole time,” Itachi stated calmly, his dark eyes utterly devoid of surprise. ”I wanted to see how long it would take you to notice him.”

Ren gaped at his baby brother. You little traitor.

Shisui let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. He didn’t look angry. If anything, he looked amused. He sat down in the grass next to Ren.

”You really care about him, don’t you?” Shisui said softly, looking over at Itachi. ”You go out of your way to keep him away from ninja training.”

Ren scowled, tossing the mirror aside.

You have no idea, Ren thought, glaring at the river. I’m trying to keep him away from you.

”I don’t care about training,” Ren said aloud, his voice dropping its usual comedic pitch and turning dead serious. ”I care about ruining your brand. I am not letting him buy into your brainwashing.”

Shisui raised an eyebrow. ”Brainwashing?”

Ren stood up, dusting the leaves off his pants. He pointed a finger directly at Shisui’s chest.

”You,” Ren declared, launching the defamation campaign. ”You work for the government for free. You love paying taxes. You think patriotism pays the bills.”

Shisui looked utterly baffled. ”I... what?”

Ren turned to Itachi. ”Itachi! Ask him about his retirement benefits! Ask him if dead shinobi receive compound interest!”

Itachi immediately pulled his small notepad out of his pocket, his face incredibly serious. He looked at Shisui.

”Shisui-san,” Itachi asked, his young voice crisp and analytical. ”Who profits from the Will of Fire? And does the Hokage match your 401(k) contributions?”

Shisui sat in the dirt, completely and utterly speechless. He stared at the two-year-old asking uncomprehensible questions, and then at the eight-year-old nodding sagely beside him.

Checkmate, Ren thought, hiding a massive grin. Try explaining the Will of Fire when the math doesn’t add up.