Um?
Inahuo stared at Duan's departing back. Suddenly, as if struck by lightning, realization dawned on him.
Of course! Why didn't I think of that earlier?
His heart leapt, and without hesitation, he rushed out of the retreat room to where Samui stood.
"How do I become a member here? I need a card!" he blurted.
"And us! We need cards too!" the others quickly chimed in, their eyes gleaming with newfound urgency.
Samui froze for a moment, dumbstruck.
This gym—usually so deserted it might not see a single visitor in half a month—now suddenly had over thirty Uchiha clamoring to join at once.
Could it be… that our business is actually turning around?
Collecting herself, she smiled politely. "Please register at the front desk."
And so they did.
One after another, Uchiha clansmen formed an orderly line, waiting for registration like eager recruits.
"The membership card for our Body Transformation Department is 500 ryō per month, 1,000 per season, and 2,500 per year. The longer the term, the cheaper it becomes. Which would you prefer?" Samui recited smoothly.
"An annual card."
Inahuo paid without hesitation.
For a jōnin, 2,500 ryō was a small expense, especially when weighed against the benefits of gaining Duan's guidance.
Samui took his details—height, weight—then handed him a white T-shirt and red shorts with the words 肉改 (Body Reform) printed boldly across them.
She also produced a small booklet.
"This is an introductory fitness manual written by the curator himself. It covers training methods, diet, and step-by-step guidance on building an ideal body."
Inahuo's hands trembled as he accepted it, as if he had been given a priceless relic. He immediately began leafing through it, eyes wide with reverence.
The sight spurred the others. Soon every clan member eagerly purchased a membership, collected their clothing, and received a manual.
Samui added warmly, "If you have questions while training, you may ask me anytime. I'll assist as best I can."
"Thank you!" Inahuo and the others chorused sincerely.
Ten minutes later, the gym buzzed with motion.
Dozens of Uchihas emerged from the locker room in matching shirts and shorts, flooding the equipment area. Grunts, roars, and the clang of weights filled the once quiet hall.
Samui moved among them like a true coach—correcting postures, demonstrating movements, and answering questions patiently.
"Drink!"
With a sharp shout, she bent down and deadlifted a barbell weighing over 600 kilograms.
The Uchihas gaped in awe. Their pride as shinobi was humbled instantly.
No wonder the curator keeps her by his side. She really is extraordinary.
From that moment, they began addressing her as "Coach Samui."
Samui herself found it surreal.
These Uchihas—normally arrogant, aloof, and feared throughout the village—now called her coach with genuine respect.
It felt like a dream.
Yet she knew well: this respect wasn't truly for her. It was for the man behind her—the curator who had made all of this possible.
Still, she used the chance to chat with them, carefully listening to their conversations.
Soon, the truth spilled out.
The clan meeting, the kaleidoscope Sharingan, Susanoo, the revelation of Duan as Uchiha's hidden powerhouse.
Each word shocked her further.
The man she had served quietly for three years—the one she thought overlooked by his own clan—was in fact terrifyingly strong.
No wonder the Raikage values him so highly, Samui thought, her heart pounding. His judgment was right all along.
Meanwhile, during the training session, Inahuo noticed a framed photo on the wall.
In it, a young Duan—seventeen or eighteen, muscles leaner but already exuding dominance—stood beside a middle-aged man with thick brows, a watermelon haircut, and an infectious grin. The man flashed a thumbs-up, his teeth gleaming.
"Coach… who is that man?" Inahuo asked curiously.
Samui glanced at the photo, her expression softening. "That was the curator's old friend, Might Duy. They called each other 'muscle comrades.' He passed away during the Third Ninja War."
Might Duy.
The name hit like thunder.
Inahuo's breath caught as he remembered—the man who had opened the Eight Inner Gates Formation and single-handedly annihilated the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist. A legend whispered among shinobi.
So even that man was a member of this gym…
The Uchihas' blood burned hotter. If such legends were forged through this place, then surely their path too lay here.
They trained harder, nearly to the point of madness.
Luckily, as shinobi their bodies far exceeded those of normal humans. Otherwise, with this level of exertion, half of them would already be in the hospital with muscle collapse.
By evening, the once-proud clan lay sprawled across the floor, drenched in sweat, utterly exhausted.
Samui clapped her hands. "That's enough for today. Remember—muscles grow during rest. Don't overdo it."
No one dared disobey.
She added apologetically, "Ah… but the bathroom hasn't been maintained, and the showers are broken. I'll fix it soon. Sorry for the inconvenience."
"It's fine," the Uchihas said, shaking their heads. "No trouble at all."
Bang.
The door to the retreat room opened.
Duan emerged, his calm gaze sweeping over the crowd. Instantly, every smile froze, and silence fell.
Would he scold them for being noisy? Drive them away?
Instead—
"Samui. Give them each a fitness meal to make up for the lack of baths," he said casually.
"Yes, curator."
Samui hurried to prepare. Soon, steaming plates of eggs, broccoli, and chicken breast were served.
The Uchihas stared at the bland food with despair. But under Duan's watchful eye, they forced it down, masks of suffering plastered on their faces.
One by one, they bolted from the gym before they could vomit, stumbling into the street.
Passersby gawked as the proud Uchihas—drenched in sweat, clad in strange T-shirts and shorts—marched along, unfazed by the stares.
Their voices rang with excitement as they discussed their training, manuals clutched tightly like sacred texts.
Meanwhile, in the Hokage's Office—
The Third Hokage lowered his pipe, eyes widening at the crystal ball.
"So the great Uchiha gathering… was for gym practice?"
He sighed, shaking his head.
Let them be. If all the Uchihas spend their time lifting weights instead of flaunting power, perhaps this village will finally know peace.
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