In a blink of an eye, two days had already passed since Duan's return.
He spent those days training in the gym, never leaving the compound, living as though nothing unusual had happened.
As for Danzo's attempt to assassinate him—such a thing might as well have never existed. The reason was simple.
First, Duan had already disposed of the evidence, selling the corpses to the black market exchange. Four Root operatives had fetched him ten million taels. Second, he knew that even if he dragged their bodies to the Hokage office, it would not shake Danzo's position in the village.
So, he planned to bide his time and take profit steadily, like shearing wool. If Danzo dared to send more assassins, Duan would simply kill them again, selling their corpses for money as often as it took.
But.
If the day came when the fish and net truly broke together—
Duan had no intention of scheming. He would simply march into Root's base, crush Danzo, and end it.
Right now, though, his mind was on another matter.
The clan assembly of the Uchiha was only one day away.
---
Inside the gym, a ring had been set up.
At this moment, Duan and Samui were sparring atop it, both dressed in white T-shirts and red shorts with the words "Muscle Reform" printed on them. They were practicing Jiu-Jitsu.
Though its name sounded similar to the Hyūga clan's Gentle Fist, the two arts were worlds apart.
Jiu-Jitsu, passed down from Duan's "previous life," was a grappling discipline.
Its essence lay in dragging an opponent to the ground, then using suffocation holds, locks, and leverage against joints to subdue them completely.
Its weakness was obvious—it wasn't suited for fighting many foes at once.
But its strength was equally clear: in a duel, it reigned supreme. Even in a world of chakra and jutsu, Duan believed it was still the "king of one-on-one combat."
After all—whether shinobi or ordinary men, all had one head, two arms, and two legs. Human joints and muscles obeyed the same principles. Even Kaguya Ōtsutsuki could not escape her body's natural mechanics.
If there existed a martial art capable of toppling gods, Duan was certain it would be Jiu-Jitsu.
---
Now, in the ring—
Duan and Samui were locked in a cross position on the mat, their bodies forming a ninety-degree angle.
Duan's massive legs clamped tightly across Samui's chest and neck, while one of her arms was caught between his thighs and trapped against his torso.
"Pop."
With a thrust of his hips, the leverage snapped into place—Samui's elbow joint suddenly hyperextended, strained to the limit.
She risked a tear, even a clean dislocation.
"Papa! Papa!"
Samui frantically slapped the mat in surrender, her face wincing in pain.
This was the arm lock—the cross armbar—the most iconic hold in Jiu-Jitsu.
Easy to learn, yet endless in variations. Simple in appearance, but difficult to master.
"Understand? Good. Now it's your turn."
Duan released her, gesturing for her to attempt the move.
Samui adjusted quickly, her golden hair clinging to her face with sweat. She mounted him smoothly and transitioned into the armbar, the sequence almost flawless.
"Savvy is good." Duan, pinned beneath her, still nodded in approval.
"Thank you, Curator." Her lips curved faintly. Praise from him always made her chest swell with pride.
---
Next, they moved to the rear naked choke.
Duan demonstrated, locking her neck from behind just as he had done to Tsunade days earlier.
"Now—your turn."
Samui circled behind him, leaping up and snaring her arms around his throat. Her long legs swung forward, clamping his waist, anchoring tightly.
But here lay the problem.
Duan's frame was colossal. Her legs simply weren't long enough to fully lock him down. Worse, her ample bust interfered with the angles of her technique, blunting her leverage.
"Boom."
With a shrug of brute force, Duan broke free, flipping her flat onto the mat with ease.
Seeing her frustration, he offered calm instruction:
"You've made rapid progress lately. At least the level of a Konoha shinobi."
"Really?"
Samui forced a smile, but inside her pride burned.
A mere genin? She was a special jōnin of Kumogakure—an elite kunoichi of the Hidden Cloud. Compared to Konoha's shinobi, she knew her village's combat standards were superior. Yet here, in front of Duan, she was treated like a beginner.
Then, unexpectedly—
"Do you want to become a shinobi here? The salary is better than this gym. If you'd like, I can recommend you to my brother-in-law."
Duan's words made her freeze.
"No, Curator." Samui waved her hands in alarm. "I…I want to stay here with you. Please… don't drive me away."
Her voice trembled.
She couldn't afford to leave. The Raikage had tasked her to remain close to Uchiha Duan, to study him, to report his every habit. She needed to eat with him, train with him, watch him constantly. Becoming a Konoha shinobi was the last thing she could allow.
"Very well." Duan gave a nod, dropping the matter.
The two resumed practice, drilling until dusk.
---
That evening, the door creaked open.
Uchiha Itachi entered quietly, his presence calm yet sharp.
The sound of bodies hitting the mat drew him to the ring, where Duan and Samui were entwined in a triangle choke demonstration.
Samui's pale thighs clamped around Duan's neck, her hands forcing his head downward toward her chest. Against anyone else, the position was inescapable.
But not Duan.
"Boom."
He rose to his feet, Samui dangling helplessly, then slammed her down hard onto the mat.
His voice came low:
"Technique is vital. But strength is the root. No matter how perfect the technique, a three-year-old child will never defeat a grown man."
Samui, red-faced, bowed in understanding. "Yes, Curator."
Even as she endured humiliation, she recognized that her growth under him was accelerating.
"…Forgive me. Did I interrupt?" Itachi finally spoke.
Duan dropped from the ring, wiping sweat with a towel. His dark eyes settled on his nephew.
"I heard from Samuel you haven't trained here these last days. Mission work?"
"Everything went smoothly. Thank you, Uncle, for your concern." Itachi bowed slightly, then hesitated before speaking again:
"Uncle, I wish to discuss something… about tomorrow's clan meeting."
"Oh?"
Duan studied him for a moment, then gave a firm nod. "Alright. Let's walk."
---
The two left the gym, climbing the quiet mountain path behind the alley.
For a time, only the cicadas and their footsteps filled the silence.
Finally, Itachi lifted his head. His voice was steady, though his eyes searched his uncle's face.
"Uncle… have you awakened the Sharingan?"
To this day, he had never once seen Duan reveal it.