Naruto: The Shameless Uchiha Tycoon

The next evening, the sharp chemical sting of antiseptic hit the back of Ren’s throat the moment he entered Konoha General Hospital.

The lobby had the rhythm of a battlefield and the organization of a drunken market. Medics shouted over the clamor of injured shinobi, stretchers were being hastily wheeled down the corridors, and the sheer volume of civilian casualties still waiting for triage was staggering.

Ren hated the noise. He hated the lack of efficiency. But he needed to see the Chief Medical Officer, so he adjusted the cuffs of his tailored charcoal suit and pushed his way through the crowd.

Kakuzu followed closely behind him, his green eyes scanning the room with deep offense.

”This triage system is hemorrhaging money,” Kakuzu grumbled, stepping over a puddle of spilled water. ”There are three carts of premium gauze sitting unguarded near the west stairwell, completely unaccounted for in the supply ledger.”

”It’s a hospital recovering from a tailed beast attack, Kakuzu,” Ren replied calmly, not breaking stride. ”Remind me to never let you audit a disaster zone.”

”I am billing them for the wasted inventory,” Kakuzu muttered.

They reached the administrative wing. The two tired guards posted at the end of the corridor straightened up, ready to block the civilian businessman, but one look at Kakuzu’s dead, murderous eyes had them wisely stepping aside.

Tsunade’s office was at the very end of the hall. Ren opened the heavy oak door and walked in.

Tsunade was sitting behind her desk, aggressively rubbing her temples. Her blond hair was tied back in a messy tail, her grey medical coat was wrinkled, and there was a half-empty bottle of sake standing beside two cups of cold, black coffee. Patient files, casualty lists, and reconstruction forms covered absolutely every inch of her desk.

She didn’t look up. ”If you are not actively bleeding out, get out of my office. Visiting hours ended at eight.”

”Then it’s lucky half your emergency supplies currently have my company seal on the crates,” Ren said smoothly.

Tsunade lowered her hands, blinking the exhaustion from her amber eyes. She glared at him as he walked over to the visitor’s chair and sat down.

He reached into his jacket, pulled out the thick, heavily sealed black scroll he had acquired the night before, and tossed it onto the center of her desk.

”I told you I needed a permanent biological cure for my ocular degradation,” Ren said, crossing his legs. ”You mentioned that village ethics severely restricted your ability to conduct the necessary cellular research.”

Tsunade stared at the dark wax seals. ”I did.”

”So, I outsourced the R&D,” Ren stated flatly. ”Open it.”

Tsunade eyed him suspiciously before reaching out. She channeled a small burst of chakra, cracking the coded binding formula, and unrolled the scroll across her desk.

She started reading.

Her expression was clinical for exactly three seconds. Then, her eyes snapped back to the top of the parchment, tracking the complex biological sequencing. Her breath hitched.

”Ren,” Tsunade said, her voice dropping to a dangerous, deadly quiet whisper. ”This is my grandfather’s cellular data. There is only one person twisted enough to possess this kind of raw mapping.”

”Orochimaru was experiencing a severe lack of government funding,” Ren replied calmly. ”I offered him a private grant.”

Tsunade stood up, slamming her hands onto the desk. ”Are you out of your mind?! Do you understand what kind of blood is on this research? The mortality rate for forced integration with these cells is ninety-nine percent! It doesn’t just reject the host, it violently overtakes their biology!”

Ren’s smirk faded, his expression turning completely serious. ”Yes.”

”And you still brought it to me?” Tsunade demanded, her amber eyes burning with a mix of fury and disbelief.

”Because you’re the only person alive who can turn it into something that saves people instead of making more corpses,” Ren said smoothly, his dark eyes locking onto hers.

Tsunade stopped. The anger hit a wall.

She looked back down at the scroll. Ren had brought her the ugly foundation of a cure. Rejection thresholds. Optic-nerve bonding theory. It was preliminary, but the math was undeniably real. He had placed the kind of research on her desk that medics dreamed about.

The heavy, suffocating stress that had been crushing Tsunade for the last two weeks suddenly boiled over. He had bypassed the village’s authority entirely, walked into an underground lab, and bought a medical revolution with a checkbook, all to drop it in her lap because he trusted her to clean the blood off it.

Something hot moved beneath the anger, and that only made her angrier.

Tsunade walked past the desk, crossed to the office windows, and dragged the blinds shut hard enough to make the wooden slats rattle. The streetlights outside vanished behind the wooden slats.

”You went behind the village’s back and funded Orochimaru’s illegal research?” she said. Her voice had dropped low enough to make the room feel smaller.

”He was experiencing a severe lack of government funding. I corrected a market inefficiency,” Ren corrected.

Tsunade walked slowly across the room, stopping directly in front of his chair. She reached down, her hand closing tightly around his silk tie, pulling him to his feet.

She raised her free hand. Her thumb brushed gently along his cheekbone, stopping just short of touching his clouded right eye.

”You idiot,” she said, quieter this time.

”Efficient idiot,” Ren corrected.

”No,” Tsunade whispered, her amber eyes dropping to his lips. ”Mine to fix, apparently.”

She pulled him forward, and the office door clicked locked behind them.

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