Naruto: The Shameless Uchiha Tycoon

Midnight at the northern Konoha supply gate was pitch black and biting cold.

Ren stood in the shadow of the massive wooden walls, pulling his gray cloak tighter against the wind. The Uchiha police patrol had passed ten minutes ago, exactly on schedule. He was completely alone.

He pulled out his pocket watch, thumbing the glass in the dark.

12:14 AM.

He was cutting it close. If the supply run failed, the cafe would have nothing to sell in the morning. The Diamond Lounge would remain closed. The revenue stream would dry up completely, and in less than four days, Mito Uzumaki would walk into the restricted ward and end her grandson’s life.

Ren tapped his foot against the dirt, his heart hammering a dull, anxious rhythm against his ribs.

Then, he heard it.

The low, heavy creak of wooden wheels straining under massive weight.

Ren stepped out of the shadows. Emerging from the tree line was a massive transport wagon. It was stacked high with heavy wooden crates, covered by a thick, rain-soaked tarp.

But there were no horses pulling it.

Kakuzu was walking at the front, the thick leather harnessing ropes wrapped casually around his massive forearms. He was hauling a three-ton merchant wagon up a muddy incline using nothing but raw, terrifying physical strength.

He didn’t look tired. He looked irritated.

Kakuzu pulled the wagon to a stop exactly five feet from Ren. The heavy wooden wheels dug deeply into the mud.

Ren stepped forward, pulling out a small chakra-powered flashlight to illuminate the scene.

The S-rank missing-nin looked like he had just walked through a meat grinder. His dark cloak was soaked in fresh blood. Three shuriken were embedded in his shoulder, and a jagged, scorched gash cut across his chest, revealing the thick black stitches holding his body together beneath the fabric. The wagon itself was peppered with kunai, and the back left wheel was slightly charred from an explosive tag.

”Draft animals are a terrible investment,” Kakuzu grunted, casually reaching up and pulling the shuriken out of his shoulder. He tossed the bloody metal into the mud. ”They panic under fire. I had to kill both horses and pull the wagon the last ten miles myself.”

Ren didn’t ask if Kakuzu was okay. He didn’t ask what happened. He walked straight past the immortal killer, grabbed the edge of the heavy tarp, and pulled it back.

He checked the cargo.

The wood of the crates was unscratched. He pried open a lid. Inside, packed in dry straw, were perfect, pristine bags of premium cane sugar. In the next crate, dry, flawless lotus leaves. The Akimichi-grade rice was stacked exactly as requested, completely untouched by the carnage outside.

”The cargo is intact,” Ren said, turning back to Kakuzu, his voice strictly professional. ”Status of the route?”

”I encountered a heavily entrenched Sand platoon holding the pass,” Kakuzu rumbled, his green eyes glowing in the dark. ”They refused to let the wagon through. Since none of them possessed a bounty in the underground bingo books, their interruption was a complete waste of my time. I slaughtered them for the sheer inconvenience.”

Kakuzu stepped forward, holding out a massive, bloodstained hand.

”They delayed me by exactly one hour and fourteen minutes. I am invoking the hazard pay and the hourly penalty clause.”

Ren didn’t hesitate. He pulled out his heavy leather pouch and a stack of high-denomination notes.

”Base pay was fifty thousand,” Ren recited, counting the money in the beam of his flashlight. ”Ten thousand was paid in advance. The twenty percent hazard bonus is an additional ten thousand. The ten percent delay penalty adds five thousand. Your total remaining balance is fifty-five thousand ryo.”

Ren stacked the money into a neat, dense brick. He handed it directly to Kakuzu.

Kakuzu took the cash. He stood in the freezing rain, flipping through the bills with terrifying speed, his eyes tracking every single watermark.

He stopped.

Kakuzu looked down at the thirteen-year-old boy. There was no short-changing. No haggling. No sudden plea for a discount because of the dead horses. It was the exact, mathematically perfect sum they had agreed upon, paid instantly upon delivery.

”You did not deduct the cost of the draft animals,” Kakuzu noted, his voice dropping to a low, intrigued rumble.

”You delivered the cargo in perfect condition,” Ren said simply, tying his empty pouch back to his belt. ”How you pulled the wagon is an operational detail. I don’t micromanage my contractors.”

Kakuzu carefully tucked the massive stack of ryo into his cloak. The killing intent that constantly hovered around him like a dark cloud seemed to completely recede, replaced by a profound, calculating respect.

”You are weird for a kid,” Kakuzu said.

”I’m a businessman,” Ren corrected. He grabbed the heavy leather harnessing ropes. ”I’ll take the wagon from here.”

Kakuzu watched as the thirteen-year-old boy gripped the ropes. For a split second, the immortal killer considered warning the kid that the wagon weighed three tons.

But Ren simply leaned forward, his secretly purchased Muscle-Density Support flaring to life. The heavy wooden wheels groaned, and Ren pulled the massive transport wagon forward with shocking, Chunin-level strength, his face entirely blank.

Kakuzu’s eyes narrowed slightly at the display of hidden power.

”If the war continues to restrict your supply lines,” Kakuzu called out into the dark. ”Leave a contract on the bulletin board at the Tanzaku tavern. Address it to the Treasurer.”

”I expect volume discounts for repeat business,” Ren replied over his shoulder, not breaking his stride as he hauled the wagon into the shadows of the village.

”Ten percent,” Kakuzu agreed smoothly. The immortal bounty hunter turned and vanished into the trees, richer and deeply satisfied.

By 2:00 AM, Ren had successfully hauled the entire wagon into the hidden underground cold-storage beneath his cafe.

He stood in the freezing room, surrounded by five hundred pounds of raw materials. His muscles ached, and his clothes were soaked with rain.

He opened the system interface.

He had withdrawn a massive amount of physical cash to pay Kakuzu, and the system instantly reflected the severe financial hit.

[PREVIOUS BALANCE: 44,500 BC]

[DEDUCTION: -6,000 BC (60,000 Ryo Withdrawal)]

[CURRENT BALANCE: 38,500 BC]

Ren stared at the glowing blue numbers. His progress had just been brutally knocked backward. To reach the 50,000 BC cost of the Senzu Bean Fragment, he now needed a staggering 11,500 BC.

That meant he had to generate 115,000 Ryo in clean profit in just ninety-six hours.

It was an insane number.

But as he looked at the massive stacks of sugar, rice, and lotus leaves, the dark, manic smile returned to his face.

The logistics were solved. The bottleneck was broken. He had the raw materials, and the Konoha elite were trapped in the village, addicted to his luxury tea.

Ren grabbed a heavy bag of sugar, threw it over his shoulder, and kicked open the doors to the kitchen.

”Kenji! Sayuri!” Ren roared, his voice echoing through the building. ”Wake up and get the fires started! The supply chain is open!”

The 96-hour grind had begun.