Chapter 39: The CFO Contract
The underground bounty exchange located three miles outside Konoha’s borders smelled like stale ale, cheap tobacco, and coagulated blood. It was a dark, subterranean cavern where missing-nin, mercenaries, and assassins came to trade corpses for cold, hard cash.
Ren Uchiha walked down the stone steps wearing a perfectly tailored, charcoal-gray civilian suit, carrying a leather briefcase.
Several mercenaries stopped drinking, their eyes locking onto the wealthy, unarmed teenager. Hands drifted toward hilts.
Ren completely ignored them. He wasn’t looking for a street thug. He was looking for his favorite independent contractor.
At the main exchange counter, a hulking figure in a dark, tattered cloak was arguing with the terrified bounty clerk. The man was a giant, his face covered by a dark mask and thick, crude stitches.
He was holding a severed head by the hair, dripping blood onto the wooden counter.
"The bounty flyer clearly stated fifty thousand ryo," Kakuzu growled, his deep, gravelly voice rattling the floorboards. "You are handing me forty-seven thousand, five hundred."
"T-there is a standard five percent processing fee, Kakuzu-sama!" the clerk stammered, holding up his ledger like a shield. "And a cleaning fee! The... the head is leaking on my floor!"
"The floor is dirt," Kakuzu stated coldly, tightening his grip on the clerk’s collar. "I do not pay cleaning fees to dirt. You will give me my two thousand, five hundred ryo, or I will extract the deficit directly from your internal organs."
Ren stepped up to the counter, leaning casually against the bloodstained wood.
"You’re wasting your time arguing over pocket change, Kakuzu," Ren interrupted smoothly.
Kakuzu paused. He slowly turned his head, his unnatural green eyes locking onto the thirteen-year-old boy. The murderous intent radiating from the S-rank missing-nin dialed back slightly, replaced by sheer business calculation.
"Uchiha," Kakuzu noted, dropping the clerk to the floor. He crossed his massive arms. "If you are here to hire me for another black-market supply run, my rates have doubled. Hauling those industrial compressor valves for your freezer system was tedious."
"I don’t need a delivery boy today," Ren said, unlatching his leather briefcase. He pulled out a thick financial ledger and slapped it down onto the counter right next to the severed head. "I need a corporate executive."
Kakuzu raised an eyebrow beneath his stitched mask. "What’s that?"
Ren flipped the ledger open to his beta-test sales projections.
"I have secured a monopoly on high-end luxury cosmetics inside Konoha," Ren explained, pointing to the neatly organized columns. "I manufacture a consumable product for fifty ryo a unit. I sell it to the elite for five thousand ryo a unit. That is a ten thousand percent profit margin."
Kakuzu’s eyes slowly drifted from Ren’s face to the numbers on the page.
"I am currently expanding into industrial-scale production," Ren continued, "and I have a royal envoy waiting outside to escort me to the Capital to finalize a multi-million ryo procurement contract with the Daimyo’s wife. But the Hokage’s advisors are trying to sabotage my supply lines, and the roads are hostile."
Kakuzu leaned over the ledger. His eyes darted rapidly across the ink, analyzing the overhead costs, the projected revenue streams, and the sheer, unfiltered profit margins.
Kakuzu’s breath hitched. He had lived for nearly a century. He had fought the First Hokage. He had hunted the deadliest bounties on earth. But he had never, in his entire violent life, seen math this beautiful.
"Ten thousand percent," Kakuzu whispered, his stitched mouth twitching into what might have been a smile. He looked at the severed head on the counter, suddenly deeply disgusted by the terrible return on investment it represented. He tossed the head onto the floor.
"I don’t need a bodyguard," Ren said, closing the ledger. "I need someone to manage the supply routes, handle the massive influx of capital, and ensure Konoha’s bureaucrats don’t touch my assets. I need a Chief Financial Officer. How would you like to stop digging through the mud for fifty-thousand-ryo bounties, and start printing millions?"
Kakuzu stood up to his full height. He looked at Ren, his green eyes glowing with absolute capitalist greed.
"I require a base salary of five hundred thousand ryo a month," Kakuzu stated, slipping seamlessly into a ruthless negotiation. "I want a ten percent equity stake in all factory operations, full debt-collection authority, and the legal right to physically terminate any employee caught embezzling company funds."
"Fifteen percent equity," Ren countered instantly. "But you handle all route security overhead yourself, and you do not murder the clientele, no matter how much they annoy you."
"We have a deal," Kakuzu agreed instantly.
Twenty minutes later, Ren walked out of the forest and back onto the main road where the royal carriage was waiting.
Lord Kazama, the royal envoy, was pacing nervously next to the gilded wheels. His twelve ceremonial samurai stood in a rigid formation, their polished armor shining in the sun.
"Uchiha-san!" Kazama sighed in relief. "You took entirely too long. We are on a strict schedule. We must depart immediately if we are to reach the Capital by—"
Kazama froze.
Stepping out of the treeline behind Ren was a towering, cloaked monster with stitches across his face and a massive, terrifying aura of killing intent.
The twelve samurai instantly drew their katanas, their hands shaking as they recognized the S-rank missing-nin from the bingo books.
"Stand down," Ren ordered, waving a hand. "He’s with me. Lord Kazama, you remember my independent contractor, Kakuzu. He has just been promoted to my new Chief Financial Officer. He will be accompanying us to the Capital to finalize the royal budget."
Kazama was trembling so violently he nearly dropped his ornate fan. "He is an S-rank mercenary! He is a mass murderer!"
"He is an accountant," Ren corrected sharply.
Kakuzu ignored the terrified envoy. He walked straight up to the gilded carriage and began heavily scrutinizing it. His green eyes darted over the solid gold leaf, the rich red silk curtains, and the twelve heavily armored guards.
Kakuzu pulled a small notepad from his cloak and began aggressively scribbling.
"This entire convoy is a logistical nightmare," Kakuzu growled, glaring down at Kazama. "You have plated a wooden carriage in solid gold, reducing its speed by forty percent while simultaneously advertising your net worth to every bandit within fifty miles. Furthermore, you are retaining twelve ceremonial guards on active payroll."
Kakuzu reached out and effortlessly snapped the blade off the nearest samurai’s katana with two fingers.
"Their steel is brittle, and their stances are decorative," Kakuzu stated coldly, writing a massive red zero in his notepad. "They are dead weight. Fire them immediately and sell their armor for scrap metal to recoup the travel expenses, or I will execute them myself for corporate wastefulness."
Kazama looked like he was about to faint.
Ren stepped up onto the carriage, pulling the door open. He looked back at his new CFO, entirely satisfied with his hire.
"Run the audit on the road, Kakuzu," Ren said, taking his seat inside. "We have a schedule to keep."
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