The Triskelion.
Inside the office of Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., Phil Coulson was delivering his debriefing.
"Director, these are the psychological profiles and personality assessments conducted by our experts on Shiranui Hayate and Rock Lee."
"This is the scientific analysis of Rock Lee's physical power and velocity, extrapolated from the surveillance footage."
"Here is the latest intelligence on Shiranui Hayate, along with the video captured by the micro-camera during our last meeting."
"And finally," Coulson added, laying out a final set of papers, "this is the combined report from our behavioral analysts and polygraph experts regarding the truthfulness of the information Rock Lee provided."
Coulson arranged the files across Fury's desk with practiced precision. Fury reached for a folder, skimming the contents as he gave a brief command: "Give me your personal take, Phil."
"Director, based on my face-to-face interaction and the intelligence gathered, I strongly advise against an involuntary extraction," Coulson began.
"The boy, Rock Lee, is not the backgroundless orphan we initially assumed. He appears to be an operative specifically groomed by an organization with deep-rooted traditions."
Coulson pulled several photos from the pile, showing not just Lee, but Umino Iruka and Uchiha Sasuke. He pointed to the metal plates—the forehead protectors—worn by all three.
"Look at this symbol. We haven't found a match in any known database, but all three wear it consistently. Given that they are all of Asian descent, my hypothesis is that they originate from the same hidden enclave. As for why they are under Shiranui Hayate's guardianship, we don't have enough data yet."
Fury nodded slowly, turning his attention to Shiranui Hayate's file.
He tracked the timeline: Hayate's adoption, his registration as a Continental hitman, and the pivotal moment at age eighteen when he killed his adoptive parents to strike out on his own.
The report noted that Iruka appeared when Hayate was nineteen; Sasuke and the assassin Hotaru appeared when he was twenty; and the boy, Rock Lee, arrived when he was twenty-one. Except for Hotaru, all their papers were processed through the Continental by Hayate himself.
"Two years ago, Hayate was a standard gunman," Fury observed. "Since this Iruka appeared, he skyrocketed in the underworld hierarchy. He transitioned into a cold-weapon 'Ninja.'"
Fury let out a cold snort.
"The Hand."
"Those subterranean rats," Fury muttered. "They couldn't stay in Japan. It seems they've managed to slip more operatives into the city."
"It explains why he wiped out the Brotherhood of Assassins. That blood feud has been simmering for a long time."
Clearly, Fury had connected the dots in his own head. To him, anyone claiming to be a "Ninja" with high-level combat skills had to be linked to The Hand. The talk of "Masters" and "Training" only solidified his belief that these were Hand-cultivated soldiers.
"Coulson, terminate contact. The Hand's zealots have no recruitment value. Archive the files under Security Level 4."
"And the surveillance teams, Director?"
"Pull them back. Our elite shouldn't waste their time watching a local turf war between shadow cults."
The Continental.
Hayate sat in the dining area with Hotaru, a slight smile playing on his lips as they shared a steak dinner. Nearby, Winston sat on a lounge sofa, seemingly absorbed in his newspaper.
Hotaru chewed a piece of beef slowly, her eyes fixed on Hayate. After dabbing her lips with a napkin, she spoke softly. "You seem to be in a very good move today, Hayate."
It's a great day, Hayate thought. His morning check-in had granted him 50 Gold Coins, and the "main event" was about to begin.
"Today is a good day," Hayate replied with a grin. "And it's about to get very interesting."
He turned toward the neighboring sofa. "Winston, I think tonight is the night where things finally stop being so... stagnant. Wouldn't you agree?"
Winston snapped his newspaper taut. "Mr. Shiranui, I hope everything proceeds exactly as you wish."
Hotaru shot Hayate a look, annoyed by his constant riddles. Hayate just chuckled. "Don't be impatient, Hotaru. The show is starting."
He returned to his steak, falling silent. Hotaru took a sip of red wine, watching the man across from her. He was a black hole of secrets, and every time she felt she understood the depth of his power, she realized she was only looking at the surface of an iceberg. The thought made her pulse quicken.
Half an hour later, a voice rang out from the balcony above.
"Winston!"
A disheveled, frantic figure appeared. Winston looked up calmly. "Mr. D'Antonio."
"It looks like you've had quite an eventful evening," Winston added, his tone laced with subtle mockery. He spared a glance toward Hayate before looking back at the newcomer. "Seeking sanctuary, I presume?"
Hotaru caught the glance and mouthed silently to Hayate: Is this the "show"?
Hayate nodded silently.
Santino D'Antonio hurried down to Winston, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his breathing shallow. "I want his membership revoked! Now! Immediately!"
Winston remained unmoved. "By the book, Mr. Wick has violated no Continental ordinances."
"You need to remember who I am!" Santino barked, his face reddening with rage. "I am a member of the High Table now. I have the authority to command you—"