At the sound of the woman's voice, Pakkun replied with a look of pure annoyance, "Lady, I am a Ninja Hound."
"I am Pakkun of the Ninken. It's perfectly normal for us to speak, alright?"
Hotaru stared at him, her world tilted. "A dog talking is the definition of not normal!"
She looked around and noticed that Iruka and the others weren't surprised at all. Realizing she was the last one in the loop, she turned a pained, resentful gaze toward Hayate.
Seeing her expression, Hayate chuckled. "I am a Shinobi. I use Ninjutsu and Summoning techniques. It's only logical..."
Hotaru really wanted to scream, Is it, though? Is it really?
Hayate stopped teasing her and got down to business. He handed John's bloodied shirt to the pug. "Pakkun, can you find the owner of this shirt?"
Pakkun stepped forward, sniffed the fabric thoroughly, and then turned his snout toward the vast desert, catching the scent on the wind. "The scent is clear. The target is moving, though at a very slow pace."
Hayate considered this. "Pakkun, keep an eye—or a nose—on John. When he stops moving for a significant amount of time, and then starts moving again, let me know."
"It might take a while," Hayate added. "Maybe two or three days."
He remembered that John Wick had to walk until he collapsed from exhaustion before the Elder's men would retrieve him. With John's legendary stamina, even in the desert heat, it would take at least forty-eight hours before he hit his limit.
"No problem," Pakkun said, scratching his ear. "But why aren't we chasing him now?"
Hayate shook his head. "If we catch him now, he'll never lead us to the Elder. We'll rest in the vehicles for now. Once he meets the boss, we can close the distance in minutes with our speed."
The team settled in. Pakkun hopped onto the hood of the SUV, sniffing the air occasionally. Lee and Sasuke began their training drills nearby, Iruka took the first watch, and Hayate sat with Hotaru to explain the true history of the Shinobi.
New York.
Three days had passed. The rain was still pouring.
The Bowery King sat in his "Internet Center," letting the cold water drench his clothes. He cradled a pigeon in his arms, stroking it sadly while the Adjudicator's men stood around him, watching his every move.
Below them, the Bowery was a slaughterhouse.
Zero and his disciples were moving through the tunnels, systematically eliminating the King's men. No one could stand against them. Whether it was knives or firearms, the King's followers couldn't land a single hit on the shinobi-like assassins. The battle only ended when the last of the King's guards lay dead.
On the roof, the Adjudicator approached with her umbrella. The King stood to meet her. "Fine," he rasped. "You've made your point. You have my loyalty."
Having been unable to reach Hayate and seeing his forces decimated, the King decided to fold.
"Actually," the Adjudicator said, staring him down, "I'm going to shove so much loyalty up your ass it'll come out of your mouth."
"I gave you a choice. You made it."
Seeing that surrender wouldn't save him, the King's eyes flashed with defiance. "If that's how you feel, then maybe it's time I told you to climb down from that Table and go to hell."
The Adjudicator's face remained a mask of indifference. "I heard that."
"You gave John Wick seven bullets. You will pay for that with seven cuts."
The King relaxed slightly, surprised it wasn't a death sentence. "Sometimes... you just have to cut a bastard."
He looked at Zero, then covered the pigeon's eyes with one hand. "Don't look, darling." He turned back to the Adjudicator. "The old King is dead!"
He released the pigeon into the rainy sky and stepped toward Zero. "Long live the King!"
Zero didn't hesitate. His blade moved in a blur.
Slash. Slash. Slash.
Seven rapid cuts later, the King let out a cry of agony and collapsed. The Adjudicator looked down at the bleeding man and walked away without a word. The adjudication was complete.
Once the roof was clear, Earl emerged from the shadows. He picked up the heavily wounded King and carried him away into the night.
The Desert.
"Lord Hayate, John Wick's scent has been stationary for a while, but it just started moving again."
Pakkun trotted up to Hayate, reporting the change. Hayate stretched his limbs, the sound of his joints popping echoing in the dry air. They had been camped on the edge of the desert for three days. Despite having plenty of food and water in his storage, staring at endless sand had become incredibly dull.
"Finally meeting the Elder, then?"
"Pakkun, track the movement. Everyone, gear up. We move now."
The team snapped into action. Hotaru checked her modified firearms, ensuring no sand had jammed the mechanisms. Iruka and Sasuke performed a final count of their kunai, shuriken, and explosive tags.
Hayate didn't need to check anything. With the system store at his fingertips, he could buy fresh supplies with copper coins in an instant.
Miles away, John Wick lay unconscious in the sand. A lone nomad leading a camel appeared over a dune. He looked down at the fallen man, hoisted him onto the animal's back, and began the trek toward the hidden heart of the desert.
"Lord Hayate," Pakkun barked, "he's moving again. Faster this time—probably on a mount."
Hayate signaled the group. "Move out!"