Thousands of miles away.
Land of Lightning – Kumogakure, Raikage's Office.
In a wide, open space lined not with desks but dumbbells, barbells, and resistance machines, the Fourth Raikage curled a barbell in one hand while reading a report in the other. Fitness and paperwork, simultaneously.
Unlike the Hokage's office in Konoha, cluttered with scrolls and paperwork, this chamber held a red leather sofa, a single coffee table (reinforced), and nothing else except high-end gym equipment. The Raikage trusted his intelligent and efficient secretary, Mabui, to handle logistics while he focused on maintaining peak physical condition.
The report in his hand came from Konoha, sent by senior undercover operative Samui. The subject? A man named Uchiha Duan.
"Hmph," the Raikage scoffed as he scanned the first few pages.
According to Samui, this Uchiha possessed overwhelming taijutsu prowess.
The Raikage's lip curled in amusement. Everyone knew the Uchiha were famed for their Sharingan, their fire-style ninjutsu, and their prowess in genjutsu. But taijutsu?
That was Kumogakure's domain.
Disinterested, he was about to toss the letter aside—until a photo slid from the folder and landed face-up on the floor.
He blinked.
Then stared.
Then dropped the barbell with a thunderous crash.
"What the hell is this?!"
He bent to pick up the photo, eyes locked onto the image. What he saw wasn't a man—it was a sculpture of supernatural muscle density. A wide, contoured back, shaped almost like a demon's face in mid-scream. Perfect symmetry, vascularity, separation—
This wasn't just strength. This was aesthetic mastery.
He frowned deeply.
Born of the Yotsuki clan, his bloodline gifted him raw power. He had trained relentlessly for decades, his Lightning Chakra Mode stimulating cell activity, forging his body to perfection.
And yet—
Uchiha Duan's musculature surpassed his own.
The Raikage stood 198 cm tall, a full 3 cm above Duan, but weighed only 100 kg. Duan? 150 kg. And not an ounce wasted.
That back...
To the trained eye, back muscles were the most difficult to develop and the hardest to fake. Duan's proportions were real. And terrifying.
BOOM!
Furious, he shattered the coffee table with a punch.
"Lord Raikage?!"
Mabui rushed in. Her dark skin contrasted with her flowing white ponytail. Sharp-eyed, poised, and brilliant, she was a rare balance of beauty and brains.
"You're just in time," he growled. "Send a message to Samui. I want daily surveillance on Uchiha Duan. I need his entire training regimen. Diet, routine, supplements. Everything."
She blinked.
This was urgent?
She had expected political news, maybe border tension. Instead...
Body envy.
Even Raikage had it.
"Understood. I'll contact Samui," she nodded, though inwardly she sighed.
Then, before leaving, she handed him a dossier.
"One more thing. Intelligence reports from multiple undercover agents confirm that the rift between Konoha's leadership and the Uchiha clan has intensified since the Nine-Tails incident. Our analysts now project that—in six months to two years—the Uchiha will attempt a coup."
Her eyes gleamed with conviction.
The Raikage set the Duan photo aside and leaned back.
"Don't underestimate Hiruzen. That old monkey won't let it come to that."
"Why not?" Mabui pressed. "Kiri did it. The Kaguya clan rebelled after facing marginalization. They were wiped out. History could repeat itself."
She was right about the Kaguya—but she wasn't seeing the whole picture.
"The Uchiha aren't the Kaguya. They're one of the two founding clans of Konoha. They hold deep roots, political influence, and terrifying might. If they rebel, it won't be a massacre. It'll be civil war. Both sides would bleed."
He looked straight at her.
"And if that happened, it would be our best chance to strike. But Konoha's leadership isn't suicidal."
Mabui paused.
He made sense. For someone obsessed with bench press, he still had clarity.
"If I were Hokage," the Raikage continued, voice firm, "I'd promote the Uchiha. Let them rise, reward their loyalty, make one of them Hokage if they earned it. But I'd never force them into rebellion. That's idiocy."
Mabui bowed her head slightly.
"You're right. As always."
Satisfied, the Raikage picked up Duan's photo again.
He zoomed in. A star-shaped purple mark glistened on Duan's left shoulder.
"Is that a tattoo? That's... questionable taste," he muttered.
He glanced at his own shoulder, where a shuriken motif had been inked years ago.
He flexed. Then grinned.
"Still got the better ink."
Mabui didn't respond. She turned to leave.
"Oh, and one more thing," the Raikage called out.
"Yes?"
"Order more protein powder. I'm running low."
"...Understood," she replied, exiting the office, shaking her head.
---
Meanwhile, in Konoha...
In the quiet of his gym, Duan adjusted a squat rack as Samui stood nearby. The two were alone, the clang of metal echoing softly.
"You've got great potential," Duan remarked, checking her form. "With proper strength training, your proportions will hit elite tier."
It was the same line he had used during her job interview.
She had joined as a receptionist. Now? She trained under him as part of the "Body Modification Department."
Duan had a keen eye for raw talent. He didn't just train anyone. But he had seen it in Samui. In Maito Guy. Even in the chubby little Choji Akimichi at the barbecue place.
"Here."
He handed her a lifting belt and secured 500 kg onto the barbell.
Then, as she stepped forward, he moved behind her—close but precise. His palms hovered beside her rib cage, ready to spot.
"Brace your core. Hips back. Focus. You're not lifting weight—you're controlling it."
The barbell lifted.
Samui's expression didn't change, but inside, she was calculating everything—his breathing, stance, proximity.
It was time to revise the next intel report.
The Uchiha wasn't just a muscle freak.
He was a cultivation anomaly.
And a potential threat.