Konoha Village.
Uchiha Itachi stepped into a remote and deserted alleyway, making his way toward the door of a fitness gym located at the far end.
He looked up.
What met his eyes was a striking wooden plaque with five large red characters engraved on it:
Physical Transformation Department.
Itachi sighed lightly, a hint of helplessness flashing in his eyes.
He didn't enjoy running errands—especially when the person he had to meet was someone he found unpleasant.
Unfortunately, that person happened to be his uncle.
---
Taking a deep breath, Itachi pushed open the door of the gym and stepped inside.
At the front desk, a young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes rested her chin on her hand, yawning lazily from boredom.
Itachi recalled the woman's name:
Samyi.
She was fair and attractive, and especially… well-endowed—an appearance that often caught the eye.
But not even such a charming receptionist could save this gym from its chronic lack of customers.
A gym?
He had heard they were popular up north, especially in Kumogakure (Hidden Cloud Village). But here in Konoha, there was clearly no market for it.
> "Itachi, are you here to see the curator?"
Samyi's voice rang out in surprise when she noticed him.
Itachi gave a calm nod.
The "curator" she referred to was his uncle: Uchiha Dan.
> "The curator is in the equipment area. Let me take you there," Samyi said, stepping out from behind the counter. She had nothing better to do, after all.
> "No need to trouble yourself. I'll go alone," Itachi replied coolly, bowing politely to her.
As he walked away, Samyi watched his departing figure with a strange glint in her sea-blue eyes.
She had arrived in Konoha three years ago. On the surface, she worked as a front desk assistant at this gym—but in reality, she was a spy from Kumogakure.
Over time, she had gathered a good amount of intelligence.
Uchiha Itachi—son of the Uchiha clan's patriarch, Uchiha Fugaku—was widely known as the most promising genius of his generation. He passed the Chūnin Exams alone at just ten years old.
And not long ago, he made history again—becoming the youngest ANBU operative in Konoha at the age of eleven.
Such a genius was, naturally, one of her key surveillance targets.
And now, she finally had the opportunity to observe him up close. As a trained operative, how could she let it go to waste?
She followed him quietly.
---
Training Area.
The expansive room was filled with metallic training equipment: power racks, bench presses, chest press machines, seated rowing machines... along with rows of dumbbells and barbells gleaming with a cold sheen.
It was overwhelming to the eyes.
Itachi recalled that his mother once told him that his uncle made a trip to Kumogakure three years ago to personally import this equipment. The cost had been astronomical.
A shame, really.
Despite the top-tier equipment, the gym was always empty. Like now—not a single customer in sight.
Then again, with a location this remote, it was hardly surprising.
Itachi couldn't help but recall something his father once said about his brother-in-law:
> "That guy has no talent—whether it's for being a ninja or doing business."
At that moment—
He heard a sound from deeper inside the gym.
A low, rhythmic humming.
It wasn't human speech—more like the low growl of a beast. It echoed through the building with a foreboding rhythm, carrying a primal warning that kept strangers at bay.
Itachi's expression didn't change. Calm as ever, he continued walking unhurriedly through the equipment area, following the strange sound until—
A tall, bare-chested figure entered his field of view.
His uncle: Uchiha Dan.
Itachi stopped. His pupils shrank slightly.
Dan was sitting on a dumbbell bench with his back turned, holding a pair of massive dumbbells and performing shoulder presses.
What stunned Itachi wasn't the motion—but the sheer, overwhelming visual impact of Dan's back.
The latissimus dorsi muscles surged like rolling mountains, swelling and contracting with each press.
A thick, snake-like erector spinae muscle ran down his spine, perfectly centered and linking to the surrounding, deeply defined muscle groups. It was like a Christmas tree of flesh, each segment bulging with terrifying definition.
Even the lower back muscles, notoriously hard to train, stood out in perfect symmetry—like abdominal muscles carved into the back.
For a moment, Itachi experienced a strange illusion.
It was as if he wasn't looking at a man, but at the devil's face, formed entirely from rippling muscle.
Especially under Dan's shoulder blades, where three developed muscle groups—the teres major, teres minor, and infraspinatus—twitched and flexed together, forming what looked like a pair of evil eyes.
Eyes that glared back at Itachi.
A chill ran down his spine.
He felt an inexplicable pressure, the kind that no Genjutsu or ninjutsu could explain.
There was something feral, monstrous, almost unnatural about this back.
Something... divine.
Or perhaps, devilish.
The only thing visible amidst Uchiha Dan's chiseled form was the unusual purple five-pointed star birthmark underneath his thick neck, right at the joint with his left shoulder.
Itachi regained his composure quickly, his expression returning to its usual calm.
Though he had already located his uncle, he didn't immediately deliver the message. Instead, he stood motionless and composed, waiting respectfully for Dan to finish his training.
Finally—
With a loud bang, Uchiha Dan dropped his massive dumbbells onto the steel floor. The floor trembled from the impact.
His muscle fibers, now flushed red from congestion, steamed faintly. Moisture condensed into vapors from the intense heat radiating off his frame.
Samui, waiting nearby, stepped forward with a towel. She offered it with both hands, eyes slightly sparkling.
Itachi chose that moment to speak:
"Uncle, Mother wants you to come to our house for dinner tonight."
"I'm busy," Dan replied curtly, still not turning around. His cold, gravelly voice oozed with disinterest.
Itachi frowned. He had anticipated such an answer.
Still—
"Itachi, you must bring your uncle," his mother, Uchiha Mikoto, had pleaded with him earlier that morning.
"She said there's something important to discuss with you," Itachi added, maintaining his composure. "So please, accompany me."
Despite the polite phrasing, Itachi's tone hardened imperceptibly—more ANBU than nephew.
Uchiha Dan paused, then turned.
Without a word, he walked forward, towering over his nephew.
Nearly two meters tall, Dan's form blocked the ceiling lights behind him. His shoulders, broad as tree trunks, and pectoral muscles as thick as boulders, cast a shadow over Itachi.
He examined the boy, face stern: sharp black hair, eyebrows like twin blades, chiseled features hardened by years of training. Though they were blood, Dan barely acknowledged their familial bond.
But Itachi held his gaze with practiced stillness.
This man is nothing to fear, he thought.
Dan, now 24, was Mikoto's younger brother. As far as Itachi knew, his uncle had shown no aptitude for ninjutsu or genjutsu. When tested with chakra paper, the strip remained unchanged—an anomaly in a clan known for its potent chakra.
He was, in every conventional sense, a shinobi failure.
What Dan did have was sheer brute strength.
His reputation was already infamous: during his first week at the Academy, he had hospitalized a teacher with his bare fists over a dispute.
He was expelled within three days.
Later, he cut ties with the Uchiha clan altogether, and after Mikoto's marriage to Fugaku, Dan vanished from the family compound.
He opened this gym in a back alley of the village, never registering with the Shinobi Corps, never affiliating with any division, and practically forgotten by most of the Uchiha.
In short: a disappointment, an embarrassment, and to Mikoto, a lingering worry.
To Itachi?
A relic.
Now, in this eerie gym, the two Uchihas faced off.
"So, what if I don't go?" Dan crossed his massive arms and stared down at the boy.
"As I understand," Itachi responded flatly, "Father wants to offer you a position at the Konoha Police Force. If I were you, I wouldn't ignore such a chance."
He had overheard his mother convincing Fugaku two nights ago. After years of rejecting his brother-in-law, Fugaku had finally agreed to extend an offer. It was rare, and likely never to be repeated.
A career. A salary. A place.
"You're telling me what to do?" Dan's voice dropped half an octave, the temperature seeming to follow.
"That's right," Itachi replied, voice even colder.
His patience had run out.
He'd killed on battlefields at four. At seven, he spoke like a Hokage. To him, this exchange was an errand, and Dan was wasting his time.
Dan's eyes narrowed.
He lowered his arm and curled one hand into a boulder-sized fist.
Itachi didn't flinch. He raised his own hand silently.
Time to show him the difference between muscle and mastery.
Samui, still lurking nearby, watched with mounting excitement.
She had never seen Dan fight.
But surely, Itachi—the Uchiha prodigy, ANBU at 11—would easily dispatch this rogue brute.
Then:
BOOM!
A punch. Sudden. Thunderous.
Itachi staggered back, eyes wide, knees buckling. He dropped to one knee, clutching his abdomen.
He vomited. Violently.
Dan kneeled beside him, rubbing his head affectionately, mock concern in his voice.
"Why'd you throw up? Stomach upset?"
Itachi couldn't speak.
Doubled over, pale-faced, he gasped for air as Dan ruffled his jet-black hair into a mess.
Dan stood, glanced at Samui.
"Bring my cute nephew some water. And a mop."
"R-right!" Samui blinked, startled.
What just happened?
She hadn't even seen Dan move.
Itachi, still breathless, raised his head.
Fear.
For the first time in years, real fear.
The punch was real. And fast.
So fast, he hadn't seen it.
Was it genjutsu? No... I would have felt the disruption. A dōjutsu? No sign. So what the hell was that?
Whatever it was, one thing was now clear.
Dan wasn't just strong.
He was hiding something. Something frightening.
"Tell my sister," Dan said, voice low, "her cooking isn't worth the trip. Don't come find me again."
He picked up his towel and walked toward the showers.
Itachi stumbled out of the gym, gripping his stomach.
Samui approached Dan cautiously.
"Director... do you dislike Uchiha Itachi?"
She'd seen it. The punch hadn't been a joke. That wasn't discipline—it was a warning.
Dan didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he asked: "What do you think of my nephew's personality?"
"He's calm, smart, polite. A genius. Everyone admires him."
Dan snorted.
"Don't be fooled by that boy's face. Weasels are vicious. They kill not just to feed, but for pleasure. They even kill their own."
He flicked her forehead with two fingers.
"Remember that."
Then, without another word, he vanished into the misty showers.
—CRASHH—
Water cascaded over his muscular body.
In the foggy mirror, a second figure appeared behind Dan.
Tall. Towering.
Humanoid, over three meters. Dark blue skin. Heavy grey armor. Helmeted face.
A spiritual projection.
His Stand: The World.
Dan had used The World's power to stop time for a single second. That's all he needed to deliver one devastating punch.
A light punch, by his standards.
Had he struck harder, Itachi would be nothing but bloodied limbs.
Dan met the gaze of his other self in the mirror.
His eyes glinted beneath the steam.
"Tch. The kid's still green."