Kenshin Tower came into view as he approached Meieki, its glass façade gleaming under the morning sun. The firm occupied the 32nd floor now-top-tier real estate, a far cry from where they'd started.
Five years ago, it had been a goddamn basement.
No windows. Two desks. Two laptops.
No reputation. No clients. Nothing but sheer arrogance and the certainty that they were better than every other lawyer in the city.
And they'd been right.
He and Kai had met at Todai and both pursued higher studies in Harvard. They hadn't exactly been friends at first. More like competitors forced into the same space - two high-achievers constantly trying to one-up each other.
Katsuki had despised Kai's ability to manipulate anyone into anything, and hated the way he could twist conversations and people without even trying. But then he realized - it wasn't just manipulation for the sake of it. Kai was terrifyingly good at reading people, at using people when he needed to, but never without reason. If he was ruthless, it was because he understood the game better than anyone.
And most importantly, Kai could back it up. His arrogance wasn't empty. It was earned.
After graduation, they had both decided the US wasn't worth it. Katsuki returned to Nagoya. Kai stayed in Tokyo. They bet on who would make senior partner first.
Four years later, Katsuki should have won.
Instead, his then-girlfriend-if she even qualified as that-slept with a senior partner at his firm. It hadn't been love. It had been convenience. She got whatever she wanted; he got what he wanted. It had been transactional, like everything else in his life.
Still, he didn't appreciate losing.
So, he quit.
Not because of her - she wasn't worth the thought. But out of pure spite. Pure pettiness. If they thought they could replace him, they were wrong.
He drained his savings. Dipped into his trust fund. Started his own firm from nothing.
And then Kai - either loyal, stupid, or just unwilling to be left behind-also quit, threw in his own money, and moved his ass to Nagoya.
The first year had been brutal.
Kai, who hated networking, networked his ass off. Katsuki worked sleepless nights, hunting down every lead, every possible opportunity. And then-
Their first real break.
A case no other firm wanted to touch without an obscene legal fee. They took it almost for free. Won.
And from there, the momentum never stopped.
Now, they were one of the most elite firms in the city. People wanted to work for them. Most weren't good enough to keep up. The ones who were got rewarded handsomely. The ones who weren't? Easily replaced.
Katsuki pulled into the private parking garage beneath Kenshin Tower, turning off the engine.
Five years.
From a basement to the 32nd floor.
And yet, somehow, he still had to deal with things like new assistants.
Exhaling sharply, he stepped out of the car. Time to see if this one lasted longer than a week.
________
Katsuki pulled into his designated parking space, shutting off the engine with a smooth turn of the key. Across from him, Kai's car was already parked. The bastard was probably upstairs, giving one of his early-morning pep talks to the junior associates and interns.
Kai loved doing that - starting the day with a speech that sounded motivational but had just the right undertone of if you fuck up, you're gone. It was an art form, really. Subtle enough to inspire, just threatening enough to keep them in line. Katsuki never got tired of hearing it.
He stepped out of the Porsche, adjusting his cufflinks as he made his way to the private elevator. The ride up was quiet, the numbers ticking upward until the doors slid open to reveal the main entrance of Hasegawa & Sato Law.
Their names were etched into the glass wall.
Kai had never argued about the order. Never insisted on Sato & Hasegawa.
"The firm's your brainchild anyway," he'd said easily, waving it off. "I just joined the chaos."
Katsuki had never thanked him for that. He didn't need to. They understood each other. Kai had been the only one who could keep up with him, the only one who could match his ambition without crumbling under the pressure. They weren't just best friends; they were more like brothers. There was mutual respect, absolute loyalty, and the unspoken knowledge that if one of them burned, the other would be standing right beside him, probably fanning the flames.
The glass doors slid open.
The receptionist barely looked up from her screen as he entered. She was competent, discreet, and had a near-psychic ability to filter out calls he had no patience for. He tolerated her presence for those reasons alone.
The bullpen was already buzzing with activity, papers rustling, keyboards clacking. Katsuki's gaze swept over the floor, cataloging everything in seconds.
And then-
A junior associate and a paralegal. Too close. Too much eye contact.
Flirting.
They noticed him a half-second too late, scrambling apart like they'd been caught committing a felony. One of them nearly knocked over a stack of briefs in their rush to look busy.
Katsuki didn't say a word. He didn't need to. His stare alone did the job.
He moved past them, satisfied as they practically vibrated with the fear of God, and stepped into his office.
Kai was already inside, watching him with a knowing smirk from where he was perched near the windows. Katsuki ignored him, heading straight for his desk as Naomi walked in.
She slid a thick stack of folders onto the polished surface. "For your signature," she said smoothly. Then, as if it was just as important, she added, "We need a new coffee machine."
Katsuki exhaled. "Naomi-san, you are more than authorized to sign off on this yourself."
Naomi smirked. "I wanted to annoy you first thing in the morning. Payment for promoting me to COO."
Katsuki rolled his shoulders, dryly offering, "Do you want to be my assistant instead?"
She scoffed. "What? And babysit two overgrown toddlers? I'd rather retire."
Then, without waiting for dismissal, she turned on her heel and walked out.
Katsuki watched her go, shaking his head before leveling his gaze at Kai.
"Remind me - why aren't we firing Naomi-san?"
Kai barely contained his laughter. "Do you want to fire her?"
Katsuki thought about it.
No.
Because he had tried once, and Naomi had just laughed in his face.
She terrified him, and she was the only reason he and Kai hadn't burned this firm to the ground yet. She also had more blackmail material on them than any NDA could contain. And because, even if he never said it, Naomi wasn't just their COO - she was family.
She had been their first employee - the first person to believe that two arrogant man-children (Naomi's words, not theirs) could actually make it.
She had taken the job for a laughable paycheck, back when their office was a basement with two desks, two laptops, and zero credibility. Back when clients barely glanced at them, when their only marketing strategy was Kai's ability to charm and manipulate and Katsuki's refusal to ever, ever lose.
Naomi had been there for all of it.
She had put up with Katsuki's impossible standards, Kai's manipulative tendencies, and the absolute chaos of building an empire from nothing. She had cooked for them when they were living off vending machine food, shoved takeout into their hands when they forgot to eat, and let them crash on her couch when they were too broke to afford anything else.
She had seen them at their lowest, pettiest, most reckless.
And she had never once doubted that they would win.
The promotion to COO wasn't about dumping more work on her. It was about giving her the authority she had always deserved. The power to delegate, to sign off on whatever she wanted, to have an assistant of her own if she ever asked for one.
Because the truth was - Naomi had earned this firm as much as they had.
And if anyone tried to poach her?
Katsuki would burn their office to the ground.
He just wasn't about to admit it.
Instead, he exhaled sharply. "No," he muttered. "You know I tried, and she just laughed in my face."
Kai grinned. "I thought so"
Katsuki exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he leaned back in his chair. "Okay, so back to business," Kai said, sliding effortlessly back into work mode.
"Client meeting at ten," Kai continued. "We've got a potential merger on the table - still in early talks, but if it goes through, it'll be a massive payout. The asshole from Moriyama & Co. is still pushing that settlement offer, but I already told him we're not interested in handouts. Naomi wants you to review the partner projections for next quarter, and also, we're apparently being sued -"
Katsuki raised a brow.
Kai waved a hand. "- over a non-compete clause. Some former associate thinks he can take firm strategies to a competitor. I told legal to handle it, but I figured you'd want to personally crush his soul."
Katsuki grunted. "I'll look at it."
"And," Kai added, glancing at his phone, "Sukehiro is starting today."
Katsuki frowned. "Who?"
"Your new assistant."
Right. The one Kai had decided to hire without his input.
Kai, as if sensing his impending irritation, kept talking. "Graduated from Todai Law three years ago."
That caught his attention. "Lawyer?"
"No license. Didn't pass the bar."
Katsuki clicked his tongue, unimpressed. "If she didn't pass the bar, she's not good enough."
Kai only rolled his eyes. "Please. Between you and me, how many idiots with a license do we know?"
Katsuki scoffed. "Fair."
"So," Kai continued, resting an ankle over his knee, "she worked as a paralegal first, then a legal secretary before getting made redundant. A friend of mine referred her - said he hated her guts, but when I told him I needed someone crazy, he suggested her. Apparently, she's the best damn legal secretary he's had the misfortune of working with. And you, my friend, need someone crazy enough to stay."
Katsuki scowled. "Not my fault if every assistant who walked through that door was weak."
"Sure, sure." Kai checked his phone, a smirk pulling at his lips. "She's here."
Katsuki barely resisted the urge to sigh. "I have court."
"No, you had court," Kai corrected. "It's been rescheduled."
Katsuki exhaled through his nose. He didn't like where this was going.
"Great," Kai said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "Can't wait for you to meet her."
Katsuki could.
He really could.
His jaw ticked, a sharp sense of irritation pressing at the edges of his thoughts. Assistants didn't last here.
They never did. The firm was a furnace, and they burned out like paper.
"Who knows?" Kai added, grinning. "This one might last."
Dread curled in Katsuki's stomach.
Somehow, that sounded less like reassurance and more like a threat.