Yamamoto Kaito returned to his room, unmoved by John Wick's repeated refusals. For someone to owe you a debt—especially a sizable one—that kind of insistence simply wouldn't work.
He was only deepening John Wick's impression of him, making sure his sudden help wasn't met with suspicion.
Because soon, John Wick would face a grave crisis. At a church, he'd be struck unconscious by a car sent by Russian mob boss Viggo Tarasov, captured alive, and nearly suffocated with a plastic bag.
Kaito planned to rescue him before John's old friend Marcus—the green-faced, Goblin-like fellow—could intervene. After all, saving a life is a one-time opportunity; he wouldn't let Marcus hog both chances.
After a brief rest, Kaito left the Continental and headed toward Little Russia, where the church stood.
John was sure to arrive at dawn.
Surveying the area, Kaito soon located the warehouse where John likely was held. He settled on a rooftop with good vantage but decent cover to wait.
—
Day broke.
Gunshots rang from the church, rousing Kaito from shadowed concealment. Those shots signaled the Baba Yaga was on his kill spree.
Kaito pulled out binoculars, keen to witness the show.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Every bullet found its mark. The entire sequence flowed like water—sleek, efficient, without wasted motion or needless chatter. There was a raw beauty to it—nothing like some idiot killers who soapbox mid-fight or gape at their victims with romantic eyes.
John Wick's unrelenting, no-nonsense style inspired Kaito's admiration. He meant to recruit him for straightforward tasks.
Such an assassin was no weaker than any Hawkeye—an invaluable ally early on.
As Kaito marveled, the shootout ended. Two women fled the church, while smoke billowed from the basement.
Kaito knew what was gone: Viggo Tarasov's cash, antiques, artwork, and incriminating evidence tying him and crooked officials—burned to ash by John.
Kaito clicked his tongue. "Such a waste. Could've converted all that into copper coins."
John emerged, selecting a perfect vantage on a rooftop overlooking the church's square. Neither man noticed the other—John awaited Viggo; Kaito awaited John's capture.
Soon, Viggo received a call, speeding toward the church with thugs in tow. Furious, he stormed out of the basement, shooting a priest who'd unlocked the underground vault's door.
John, watching from the rooftop, finally moved with his Coharie Arms CA-415 assault rifle, descending toward the fray.
"Damn it—all turned to ash."
Viggo cursed, asking his men, "Can we salvage this?"
"You know what's down there."
"The money's nothing."
John's actions enraged him.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
A henchman next to him dropped from a bullet. Viggo ducked behind a car's side.
"Strike back!" he ordered.
The goons returned fire, but failed to harm John, losing several men to his ruthless marksmanship.
Above, Kaito watched with relish. "Gangsters can't compete with pros—especially legends like the Baba Yaga. Their shooting's atrocious—looks like they're tracing bloodlines on the floor."
"Wasn't John once Viggo's man?"
"Tsk tsk tsk… to be wiped out by your own retiree—that's a real son's betrayal."
One, two, three… six kills.
In moments, John felled six Russians; after reloading, two more. Eight dead.
One thug jumped into a car, aiming to ram John.
Kaito stayed silent; he'd been waiting for this moment.
Bang!
The crash echoed—John was sent flying, unconscious.
Gunfire ceased. Viggo and men bound John, preparing to "talk" at a warehouse. Kaito smirked internally.
Though the outcome suited him, he reminded himself—face the enemy, don't chatter. Kill them outright.
If Viggo had just shot John immediately, none of this would've happened: his son would be alive, and so would he.
Villains die by talking too much.
Silently, Kaito trailed Viggo and crew, moving like a shadow into the warehouse without a sound.
Viggo ordered his men to tie John to a chair.
As John slowly awoke, Viggo began, "John, let me be clear—my men will tear you apart."
A chair was dragged opposite John; Viggo launched into a long-winded tirade.
From the shadows, Kaito smiled wryly—such grandstanding was almost laughable.
When Viggo and his men prepared to suffocate John with a plastic bag, Kaito struck first, sending two shuriken flying.
Whish. Whish.
Silent but deadly, the blades killed two mobsters instantly—hands clutching throats, no sound but convulsions, then stillness as blood gushed out.
Outside, Marcus, ready to intervene, saw the shuriken kill and relaxed. He watched through his sniper's scope, waiting for the final outcome.
Kaito stepped from the shadows, greeting John: "Hey, John."
"I knew you'd come."