Smith stared at the ornate box on his desk. John had offered to leave all four with him, but Smith had insisted he take the Four-Star Ball along. Better to track John's movements through the sphere's energy signature.
The locations of the remaining three had surprised him. Ivan Vanko, Tony Stark's future enemy, the son of Anton Vanko, had somehow acquired one. Given the man's poverty and bitterness, money would likely be sufficient inducement to part with it.
Xu Xialing was more complicated. Xu Shang-Chi's sister ran underground fighting rings in Hong Kong, commanded her own criminal network. John would need to negotiate carefully there.
The Osaka Continental was the wild card. The manager, Shimazu Koji, was one of John's few genuine friends, someone who might actually risk everything for him. That made it easier and more dangerous in equal measure.
Smith closed the box and locked it in his safe. The real reason for urgency gnawed at him: his current power wasn't enough.
Yamcha's abilities had made him superhuman by assassin standards, bulletproof against small arms, enhanced strength and speed. But he wasn't invincible. Grenades could kill him. Sniper rifles would penetrate. Heavy weapons would tear him apart. He didn't have Captain America's vibranium shield or Thor's divine durability.
And he knew exactly what was coming..
Smith needed to reach 50 combat power minimum before the Battle of New York. Preferably higher. The Dragon Balls were his fastest path to that strength. As soon as John Wick make his wish, he himself will get 3 more draws.
Meanwhile
Puar appeared in John's quarters carrying three manila folders. "John, Master Smith asked me to give you these and said I'm assigned to you now."
John accepted the files and read quickly. Three targets. Three locations. Clear intelligence on each Dragon Ball holder.
He looked up at the floating shape-shifter. "How exactly am I supposed to travel with you without drawing attention?"
Puar's form rippled and compressed, transforming into a blue cat-shaped balloon "Like this. Just keep me close."
John nodded. Simple enough. "First stop: Osaka."
Osaka Continental Hotel
Shimazu Koji moved through his hotel with the bearing of a man who'd spent decades perfecting hospitality as a lethal art form. He nodded to guests, noted security positions, assessed threats with the automatic awareness of a career assassin.
At the front desk, a guest approached. A powerfully built man, clearly American, with a German Shepherd at his side.
Akira, the concierge, greeted him professionally. "Welcome to the Osaka Continental. How may I assist you?"
The man slid a gold coin across the marble. "I need a room."
Akira took the coin, then glanced down at the dog. "I apologize, but we don't allow animals."
"Emotional support animal."
Akira's eyebrow rose fractionally. "Yours?"
The man looked down at his dog, his expression softening. "Other way around. I'm his emotional support human. Isn't that right, boy?"
He crouched and scratched behind the shepherd's ears. The dog's tail wagged enthusiastically.
Akira suppressed a smile and produced a keycard. "He must remain in your room at all times."
"Understood." The man, the Hunter, according to his registration, took the card and headed for the elevators.
"Enjoy your stay, sir," Akira called after him.
The Hunter settled onto a couch in the lobby, his dog lying at his feet. He pulled out his phone and scrolled to the Continental's bounty board. John Wick's face stared back at him, the number beneath it reading $22,000,000.
"Not bad at all," he murmured.
He withdrew a leather-bound notebook from his jacket, a personal kill ledger. Page after page displayed targets he'd eliminated, each one marked with a red X. He found John Wick's portrait near the back and began sketching an X in preparation.
Shimazu completed his circuit of the lobby and stopped beside Akira. "There's a dog in my hotel."
Akira sighed. "Emotional support animal."
"I doubt that very much." But Shimazu let it drop. He had more pressing concerns. "What's my schedule tomorrow?"
"Dinner with your daughter at eight."
Shimazu's stern expression softened almost imperceptibly. "She's worried about you. Says you've been working too hard."
A rare smile touched Shimazu's lips. "I must have saved a nation in my past life to deserve such a thoughtful daughter."
"Good things happen to good people," Akira said quietly.
"Indeed." Shimazu scanned the lobby again. "How are our guests?"
"The Gold Circle members are nervous. The news from New York has everyone on edge."
"The world has never been peaceful."
Akira lowered her voice. "Winston was executed yesterday. Beheaded by Zero on the Adjudicator's orders."
Shimazu's expression didn't change, but his jaw tightened slightly. "How are our staff handling it?"
"Concerned. Afraid."
"Perhaps I should get you an emotional support animal as well," Shimazu said dryly.
Akira didn't smile. "Father, " She caught herself, glancing around to ensure no one had heard. "One wrong decision regarding John Wick could destroy us. The High Table will come."
She didn't know John had joined the Fraternity. Like everyone else, she assumed he'd seek help from his old friend.
"We haven't offended the High Table," Shimazu said calmly. "We honor the old rules."
"Everyone knows your history with John Wick. When he arrives, and he will, the High Table will hold you accountable." Akira's voice was tight with worry. "Wherever John goes, nothing grows. Everything dies."
Shimazu turned to face his daughter fully. "I knew John Wick before you were born, Akira. Before the Continental. Before any of this." His tone softened. "I understand your concern. But we treat all guests with courtesy. That's our way."
Akira lowered her head. "Forgive me."
Shimazu watched her walk away, then called after her: "Tell my daughter I'm looking forward to dinner tonight."
Akira's tense shoulders relaxed slightly. A small smile touched her lips.
Shimazu sighed. The High Table controlled its operatives through leverage, family, loved ones, anything that mattered. That's why he'd never publicly acknowledged Akira as his daughter. To the world, she was merely his most trusted concierge.
It was the only way to keep her safe.
But if John Wick truly came seeking help, all of Shimazu's careful protection might crumble. The High Table would burn the Osaka Continental to ash, and everyone inside with it.
Let's hope it doesn't come to that, Shimazu thought, returning to his rounds.
He had no idea John Wick was already on his way.