"Hoo~"
Samui took a deep breath, grabbed the barbell with both hands, slowly bent her knees, and squatted down until her thighs were parallel to the ground. Then, she extended her legs using the full contraction of her quadriceps, standing up until fully upright.
She held the peak contraction for two seconds.
A textbook barbell squat.
Beside her, Duan squatted and stood up simultaneously, spotting her with care.
500kg squat.
In Duan's previous life, that amount of weight would've shattered world records. But in this world, where an average ninja's body held 130 trillion cells, feats of strength like this weren't extraordinary.
In Duan's memories, a woman named Tsunade could wield Gamabunta's ten-ton tantō with terrifying ease.
Once. Twice. Three times...
Samui maintained a steady rhythm, continuing her squats.
"Try to rely on your body's strength alone. Don't cheat with chakra," Duan reminded her calmly.
Gradually, Samui's strength waned. Her legs began trembling, her core wavered. On her final rep, she sank into the squat but couldn't rise. Her face tightened in pain.
Just as the heavy barbell threatened to collapse onto her, Duan's strong arms supported her from the sides—gripping her rib cage gently to steady her spine.
Together, they completed the final squat.
"Boom."
Samui placed the barbell back on the rack and exhaled hard.
"You've improved. But don't push yourself too far—it's easy to get injured," Duan said sternly.
"Understood, Curator. I won't do that again," Samui replied, bowing slightly, brushing her sweat-soaked blond hair from her face, her cheeks tinged pink.
Physical contact during training was inevitable, but Duan's earlier gesture—supporting her by the ribs—made her slightly self-conscious.
She wore a white, tight-fitting sports T-shirt and pink yoga pants, her powerful yet feminine figure on full display.
Duan observed her critically.
"Your physique is progressing well," he said with a professional air, like a judge assessing a competitor.
Samui's build was balanced: firm, curvaceous, and athletic.
Voluptuous, but never excessive.
The peak of physical development.
"Thank you, Curator," Samui replied, pleased. The praise filled her with a deep sense of accomplishment.
Now she understood why the Fourth Raikage was obsessed with fitness. He trained constantly—obsessed with molding every muscle.
Turns out, fitness was addicting.
After resting briefly, Duan handed her an elastic band.
"Final set. Do kneeling side-leg raises to engage the glutes."
Samui nodded, tied the band above her knees, and knelt on the yoga mat, palms flat, hips raised.
She began her reps.
"Keep your back straight. Form is everything. Imagine...a dog peeing on a tree," Duan instructed from the nearby bench.
"Got it."
Samui imagined the scene, trying to mimic the motion. With the image in mind, she found her glute muscles engaging more effectively.
Just as the duo focused on training—
"Pardon the intrusion. Did I come at a bad time?" came a cold voice from the doorway.
Uchiha Inahura.
He stepped into the gym, frowning slightly at the sight before him.
"Keep going, Samui. Don't stop," Duan instructed her, then turned to face Inahura.
"Why are you here?"
He thought the surveillance issue was resolved.
"Relax. I'm not here from the police department today. I'm here as a fellow Uchiha clansman—with an invitation."
Inahura got straight to the point.
"Yatsushiro-sama sent me. He wants to meet you—discuss matters regarding the clan."
Duan raised a brow.
Yatsushiro.
He'd heard the name. Second-in-command of the Police Force, and leader of the Uchiha radical faction. A man whose power was second only to the patriarch, Fugaku.
Apparently, Yatsushiro had taken interest in Duan's strength.
"I've heard you're dissatisfied with your sister's marriage to Fugaku. That's why you left the clan compound, right? You're not alone. Many feel the same."
Inahura's tone grew persuasive.
"Think about your sister. About your future. Come with me. We want to change things—for all of us."
It was a carefully prepared pitch.
Duan stared at him for a moment.
Then responded with one word:
"Okay."
He had expected someone to come sooner or later. Whether it would be the moderates or radicals first—he wasn't sure.
But as a time-traveler, not a born Uchiha, Duan felt detached from the clan's fate.
He had no intentions—yet—to save the Uchiha.
Instead, he wanted to watch them self-destruct.
The Kaguya Clan of Kirigakure rebelled and perished, but at least they died united. Gloriously.
Uchiha? The most powerful clan in Konoha? They imploded with a whisper, devoured from within.
Pathetic.
Duan turned to Samui.
"We'll stop here for today. Don't forget to stretch—post-workout recovery is important."
"Understood."
Samui stood and bowed.
As Duan and Inahura exited, her expression turned thoughtful.
She'd overheard everything.
The radicals wanted Duan. They were asking him to betray his brother-in-law—the clan leader himself.
Had Duan already decided?
He seemed to accept far too easily.
Samui stroked her chin in contemplation.
Things within the Uchiha clan were heating up.
Half an hour later.
Duan followed Inahura back to the Uchiha district. They twisted through side streets until they arrived at a grand estate. The doors opened, and they stepped in.
Crunch.
The gate shut behind them.
Nearby, beneath a blooming cherry blossom tree, a shadow stirred.
Uchiha Fugaku.
His eyes narrowed.
"So, Yatsushiro made his move. Trying to win Duan over?"
Fugaku's voice was low.
He hadn't approached Duan first—he wanted to observe.
Would Duan truly oppose him? Would he choose to side against his own sister's husband?
If so, there was nothing more to say.
Only disappointment remained.