After Hayate Shiranui announced the mission rewards, Umino Iruka pulled out the short sword and shuriken he had confiscated from the Hand. He placed them before Hayate and asked:
"Lord Hayate, are there ninjas in this world as well?"
As Iruka spoke, everyone turned their gaze toward Hayate. Only Hotaru focused intently on the implication of Iruka's question.
Hayate glanced at the two items. He didn't spare the short sword a second look, but he picked up the shuriken and examined it. Its design was remarkably similar to those from the Shinobi World.
He spun it casually between his fingers before setting it back down. "Iruka, in this world, only we are true ninjas—possessing the power to turn the mundane into the miraculous."
"As for other factions, the agents they train may be called 'ninjas' like us, but in reality, there is no connection. They do not possess Chakra."
"You can think of them as a mere variant of the Samurai."
With Hayate's explanation, Iruka and the boys understood. They stopped dwelling on the Hand's "ninjas," but Hotaru sat in silence, etching one word into her mind: Chakra.
Through Hayate's words, she realized that his incredible abilities—and the gap between him and other organizations—stemmed entirely from the existence of this "Chakra."
The discussion was cut short when Charlie and the cleanup crew arrived. Upon entering, Charlie removed his hat and held it to his chest. "Respected Elder Shiranui."
Hayate took a gold coin from his pocket and pressed it into Charlie's hand. "The Continental must be quite busy today."
Charlie accepted the coin, a faint smile appearing on his face. "Business is very good. The cleanup crews are overwhelmed. Many clients have even taken to bringing their targets directly to the hotel for processing."
Hayate nodded, watching as Charlie's team loaded Madam Gao's body into the van. He signaled for Iruka to follow them and ensure the cremation was handled personally.
Fisk Tower.
Wilson Fisk, having just ended his call with Hayate, stood looking out at the night falling over Hell's Kitchen.
"Is this the power of the High Table... and Hayate?" he mused.
"In less than half a day, the Hand's presence in New York has been obliterated. Even Gao, one of the Five Fingers, has met her end."
Reflecting on the day's events, Fisk gained a far more direct understanding of the High Table—the organization that sat above the world's underworld and controlled eighty percent of its assassins. If it were possible, Fisk wanted a seat at that table.
A knock sounded at his door. "Enter!"
Bullseye walked in, a wide grin on his face. He held a set of photographs. "Fisk, look who we found."
Fisk took the photos. The first showed Daredevil lying on the ground, blood leaking from his nose and mouth. The second showed him unmasked, revealing his true face.
A rare smile spread across Fisk's face. This was an unexpected, double blessing.
"To think our Daredevil was actually Hell's Kitchen's famous blind lawyer. That is quite the headline," Fisk said. "Bullseye, do you know who solved this headache for us?"
"He died outside Madam Gao's building," Bullseye replied. "From what I've gathered, he was killed because he tried to block the Shiranui Agency from taking Gao away."
"Ha-ha-ha-ha!"
Fisk burst into a booming laugh. "Hayate truly is my lucky star. Not only did he remove Gao, but he cleared out this nuisance Matt Murdock as well."
"I heard he has an Adjudicator under him named Night Devil. It seems this blind lawyer's name was a bit of an insult to the Agency."
"I'll need to collect a batch of fine whiskey to properly thank Hayate. I hear he has quite a taste for it."
Stark Mansion.
Tony Stark was back in his workshop, feeling the hum of the miniature Arc Reactor in his chest. He realized that during his crash in the Mark 1, a copper wire had come loose and was shorting slightly against the casing.
He needed to build a new model. The conditions and materials in that cave were nothing compared to what he had here.
His thoughts drifted from his kidnapping to his rescuer, Hayate, and the magical displays he had witnessed. "Jarvis, bring up everything we have on Hayate Shiranui."
"Certainly, sir. Data collection is complete."
Tony began swiping through the holographic projections.
"God, he's an orphan? Raised and trained by an assassin?"
"The Continental Hotel... an interesting place. A neutral zone?"
"New York's top hitman. Code name: The Ninja Master."
"He's actually a ninja? That's not what I expected. I thought he was some kind of genius biologist, like me."
"Founded his own agency, took on various high-level contracts, and eventually became an Elder of the High Table."
Tony then looked into what the High Table actually was. His brow furrowed. He had just announced the closure of his weapons division, only to find out his savior was a notorious assassin.
While Hayate didn't just take assassination contracts and was now an Elder—meaning he likely didn't "work" personally anymore—it wasn't exactly what Tony had imagined. Then he remembered the talking dog Pakkun and the massive blue snake, Aoda.
"I don't make friends based on their status," Tony muttered to himself. "His personality is like mine—he settles his debts."
"Yes, a debt of gratitude. He's the man who saved my life."
It definitely wasn't because of the talking dog or the lightning-fast giant snake. Definitely not...
"Jarvis."
"At your service, sir."
"Scrub Hayate Shiranui's data from the web."
"Sir? All of it?"
Tony thought for a second. "Yes. Every piece of negative record or digital trail. Make it disappear."
"Understood, sir. Beginning operation."
With the orders given, Tony turned back to his workbench and began crafting his next-generation Arc Reactor.