Back in his room, Shiranui Hayate wasn't angry about John Wick's repeated rejection. If you want someone to owe you a favor—especially one large enough to change their life—simply asking isn't enough.
His persistence was merely to etch his image into John's mind, ensuring that when he finally did intervene, John wouldn't view the sudden help with too much suspicion.
Hayate knew a major crisis was coming. At the church, John would be blindsided by a car driven by the Russian mob boss Viggo Tarasov's men. He would be captured, bound, and nearly suffocated with a plastic bag.
Hayate planned to move before John's old friend Marcus—the man who bore a striking resemblance to the Green Goblin—could intervene. A life-saving debt only needs to be paid once per person; he wasn't about to let Marcus hog both opportunities. After a brief rest, he slipped out of the Continental and headed toward the church in Little Russia.
By dawn, the Boogeyman would arrive to start his slaughter.
Daybreak arrived.
A few muffled gunshots echoing from the church jolted Hayate from his hiding spot. The dance of the Boogeyman had begun.
Hayate pulled out a pair of binoculars and began to observe the performance.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Every shot was lethal. Every movement was fluid, devoid of wasted motion or unnecessary chatter. It had a unique, lethal charm—nothing like those idiots who feel the need to explain their philosophy for ten minutes mid-assassination.
It was this efficiency that made Hayate want to recruit him. In his eyes, a killer like John Wick wasn't any weaker than someone like Hawkeye; in the early stages of this world, he would be an invaluable asset.
The battle ended quickly. Two women fled the church, and moments later, thick smoke began billowing from the basement.
Hayate knew what was burning: Viggo Tarasov's cash, antiques, art, and the blackmail material he used to control government officials.
Hayate clicked his tongue. "What a waste of money. They could have been converted into so many Copper Coins, and he just burns them."
Hayate watched as John emerged and moved to a vantage point on a nearby roof. John never noticed Hayate hidden on a separate rooftop. Both men were waiting—John for Viggo, and Hayate for John to be captured.
Viggo arrived soon after, frantic. Upon seeing the smoldering ruins of his vault, he executed the priest who had opened the doors for John.
Seeing this, John didn't hesitate. Gripping his Coharie Arms CA-415 assault rifle, he descended to the ground.
"Damn it! He burned it all to ash!" Viggo cursed, turning to his men. "Is anything salvageable?"
Tat-tat!
The crack of the rifle cut him off. A henchman beside Viggo slumped to the ground. Viggo dove behind his car, screaming for his men to return fire.
From the roof, Hayate watched the firefight with interest. "These mobsters are a joke compared to a professional. Their aim is so bad they might as well be 'body-outline' artists. To think John used to work for this guy... talk about a son ruining his father's entire empire."
"Three, five... nice, that's six."
Hayate counted the bodies as John moved with precision, dropping eight Russians in the blink of an eye.
Then, one of Viggo's men floored it, aiming his car directly at John. Hayate made no move to help. This was the moment he had been waiting for.
CRASH.
The impact sent John flying. He hit the ground hard and lost consciousness.
Viggo's men bound John and prepared to take him to a warehouse for a "chat." Hayate watched, feeling a bit speechless.
While the outcome was exactly what he wanted, it served as a grim reminder: Never talk to your enemy. Just kill them. If Viggo had just put a bullet in John's head right there, his son would live, and his empire might survive.
Instead, the villain chose to talk.
Hayate followed them silently, his ninja-enhanced speed and stealth making him a ghost in their wake. He slipped into the warehouse unnoticed as they tied John to a chair.
Viggo began his long-winded monologue as John slowly regained consciousness. Tucked away in the shadows of a corner, Hayate's lip curled in a smirk. This was almost painful to watch.
As Viggo finished his rant and signaled his men to suffocate John with a plastic bag, Hayate struck.
Two shuriken whistled through the air.
Swoosh—Swoosh!
The projectiles tore through the silence, striking the two henchmen before they could touch John.
They clutched their throats, unable to make a sound. Their limbs trashed momentarily before blood erupted from their necks, and they collapsed, dead.
Outside, perched in a sniper nest, Marcus watched through his scope. Seeing the shuriken finish the job, he realized his intervention was no longer required. He kept his lens trained on the interior to see how it played out.
Hayate stepped out from the darkness, a casual wave of his hand.
"Hey, John."
"I told you... you'd eventually need my help."