Through the glass wall of his office, Katsuki watched Hana Sukehiro stare at her laptop like it had personally insulted her.
Her brows were drawn tight, mouth slightly pursed, fingers hovering over the keyboard in hesitation-no, calculation. That was different. She wasn't lost. She was solving something.
Then Naomi walked up to her desk.
Hana flinched.
Katsuki's eyes narrowed. Too jumpy.
He didn't like that.
"Where the hell did you find her?" he asked, still watching.
Kai, leaning lazily in the chair across from him, stretched his arms behind his head. "Told you. Referred by a friend."
Katsuki exhaled sharply through his nose. "I give her three days."
Kai smirked. "That long?"
"She'll fold," Katsuki continued, ignoring him. "Have you seen her? She thinks this is just a game."
Kai tilted his head slightly, eyes still on Hana, watching the way her fingers drummed against the desk in rapid succession, her lips moving slightly-probably thinking out loud, unaware she was doing it.
"What I see," Kai murmured, "is someone excited to actually practice law."
Katsuki scoffed, rolling his shoulders back. "Then why did she fail the bar?" His voice was flat, disinterested. But the next part was deliberate. "Twice. If she's that eager."
Kai glanced at him. Ah. There it was. The itch in Katsuki's brain.
A puzzle he wasn't willing to acknowledge as a puzzle.
Kai considered his next words, weighing the best way to poke at it. Then, casually, he said, "I can find out."
Katsuki didn't respond at first. Just kept watching Hana.
She was muttering something now, clicking between screens at a frankly irresponsible speed. Her brain moved fast. He could see it in how her focus jumped, in how she flicked her pen between her fingers absentmindedly, in how her eyes darted over the screen like she was scanning for something no one else saw.
Kai waited. Then, smoothly: "Do YOU want me to find out?"
Katsuki barely turned his head. "No."
Kai smiled. Knew it.
"Fine," he said, pushing himself up from the chair and buttoning his suit jacket. "I'll still find out, but I'm not gonna tell you."
Katsuki barely flicked a glance his way. This bastard.
Kai stretched, rolling his shoulders. "Time to christen our new hire."
Katsuki just shook his head and didn't respond.
Through the glass, Hana exhaled sharply, then suddenly turned to say something to Naomi.
Let's see what she's made of.
_______
Hana stared at the screen, her soul slowly exiting her body as she scrolled through the abyss that was Katsuki Hasegawa's inbox and calendar.
What. The. Hell.
This wasn't just bad. This was a level of organizational chaos that defied logic, reason, and possibly the laws of physics.
His inbox had 14,763 unread emails.
His calendar? A war zone.
Meetings stacked on top of meetings, with no breathing room, lunch breaks, or any sign that he was, in fact, a mortal man who needed things like food or sleep.
Who the hell worked like this? Did he time travel? Did he exist in a pocket dimension where there were more hours in a day?
Hana zoomed in on one particularly cursed time block.
A deposition at 10:00 AM. A board meeting at 10:30 AM. A client call at 10:45 AM.
Hana physically recoiled.
That's not how time works.
She was so busy contemplating whether Katsuki Hasegawa was bound by the same space-time continuum as the rest of humanity that she didn't hear someone approach.
"I see you've found the abyss."
Hana flinched.
A quiet chuckle followed, and then Naomi-impeccably dressed, composed, radiating the energy of someone who had already seen it all and lived to tell the tale-pulled out a chair and sat next to her.
Hana exhaled. "Seriously. How does he function like this?"
Naomi just smiled. "Painfully."
That was not reassuring.
"Here's the thing," Naomi said, tapping a fingernail against the desk. "You don't manage Hasegawa. You redirect, contain, and occasionally manipulate him into thinking your ideas are his."
Hana squinted. "So he's a cat?"
Naomi smirked. "A very rich, very dangerous, workaholic cat. Yes."
Hana nodded slowly. "Okay. So how do I... keep the cat from clawing my face off?"
Naomi leaned in slightly. "First rule: buffer his schedule. He doesn't put in breaks, but if you don't, he will run himself into the ground and somehow still show up to court ready to destroy lives. Give him space between meetings. He won't notice, but he will use it."
Hana took mental notes. Okay. So, treat him like an overclocked laptop before it bursts into flames. Got it.
"Second rule," Naomi continued, "filter his emails. Aggressively. He won't answer anything that isn't absolutely necessary. If a client is indecisive, get rid of them. If a junior associate is panicking, handle it before it reaches him."
"Got it. Be the firewall."
"Exactly. Third rule: anticipate his moods. If he sends out one-word emails, something pissed him off. If he stops responding entirely, he's plotting someone's demise. If he suddenly takes an interest in a case he originally ignored, he's either bored or hunting for blood. Either way, tread carefully."
"Jesus Christ."
Naomi smiled. "You'll get used to it."
Would she?
Would she really?
Before she could spiral any further, Naomi forwarded something to her. Hana's phone buzzed with a new file.
"Contacts," Naomi explained. "Assistants, reservation officers for hotels and restaurants, here and in about thirty other countries. Travel agents, journalists, secretaries-basically, everyone who could make your life easier. Build connections with them."
Hana dramatically gasped, "This is-"
Another notification.
"Also," Naomi continued, "a list of Hasegawa's preferred restaurants, coffee orders, tailors, mechanics. His insurance information, emergency contacts, everything."
Hana clutched her phone like it was a signed contract from God Himself.
She almost wept.
"I would die for you, Naomi-san."
Naomi laughed. "Keep that file updated. You know, in case you quit." She paused, then tilted her head.
"But... I have a good feeling about you."
Hana wasn't sure why that made something settle in her chest.
Naomi leaned back in her chair, watching as Hana absorbed everything with the same sharp-eyed focus she'd had earlier when tearing apart that contract. Good. She was learning.
"You're going to need a strategy," Naomi said, crossing her arms. "Dealing with them isn't normal corporate survival. It's war."
"War?"
Naomi smirked. "You're handling two of the most brilliant, exhausting, and frankly insane lawyers in the country. You have to learn how to navigate them both. Otherwise, you'll burn out before the month is over."
She tapped a single manicured finger against Hana's desk. "Which means you need a system."
Hana squinted. "A system?"
Naomi nodded sagely. "WWND."
Hana stared.
Naomi's lips twitched. "What Would Naomi Do?"
Hana exhaled slowly. "You're messing with me."
"Not at all," Naomi said smoothly. "You should be asking yourself that question daily. Preferably before making a decision that could end in your untimely corporate demise."
Hana hummed, considering. "Alright, sensei. Teach me."
Naomi smirked. "Rule number one: Kai will get you to agree to things before you even realize it. He's too charming, too smooth. He'll phrase things like a casual suggestion, and before you know it, you've agreed to organize a corporate retreat in Kyoto."
Hana frowned. "That feels... oddly specific."
Naomi sighed dramatically. "Because it happened to me. And now I have a personal vendetta against team-building exercises."
Hana tried—and failed—not to laugh.
Naomi continued, undeterred. "You have to learn to spot the setup before he plays you. If he says something like, 'Wouldn't it be great if...?' or 'You're the only person I trust to handle this...'—abort mission immediately."
Hana narrowed her eyes. "So if Kai says 'Wouldn't it be great if we all coordinated outfits for a gala'—"
"You say no, absolutely not, I am not falling for this."
Hana nodded, filing it away in her mental war manual.
"Rule number two," Naomi went on, "Katsuki will never say what he actually means."
Hana squinted. "Elaborate."
Naomi tilted her head, thoughtful. "If he says, 'This is fine,'—it is absolutely not fine. If he says, 'Handle it,' it means he already expects you to have a solution. And if he ever tells you, 'Good work,'—"
Hana raised an eyebrow. "That... doesn't sound so bad?"
"Oh, it is. Because it means he is now expecting even better work. Congratulations. You've just leveled up your own suffering."
Hana exhaled sharply. "That's... horrifying."
Naomi shrugged. "Welcome to your new reality."
Hana drummed her fingers against her desk, absorbing all of this, mentally engraving WWND into her soul.
Naomi paused, "did Katsuki engage in a verbal sparring match with you earlier?"
Hana exhaled. "Yeah. He asked me to spot mistakes in a contract."
Naomi's smile deepened. "And he told you how he would deal with it, right?"
Hana hesitated.
Now that she thought about it... her previous boss would have just told her if she was right or wrong.
Hasegawa, on the other hand...
Naomi nodded. "They're the best at what they do. Their work ethic is unmatched—borderline unhealthy, but if they see potential in you, they will mentor you." She paused. "But they'd rather die than admit it. So take all the knowledge you can get."
Hana stared at her. "So what you're telling me is... they're secretly good mentors, but they'll make my life miserable the whole time?"
Naomi smiled. "Bingo."
Hana leaned back in her chair, staring at Naomi like she had just unlocked the secrets of the universe.
"So," Hana said slowly, still processing everything. "If Kai is a charming con man, and Katsuki is a workaholic tyrant who refuses to acknowledge human limits—"
Naomi nodded along, completely unoffended.
Hana gestured vaguely. "Then why did you stay?"
Naomi's smirk faltered—not in hesitation, but in something slightly more knowing.
She exhaled, as if considering how much to say. Then, finally:
"Because they're the best."
Naomi continued, voice quieter but certain. "Because as exhausting as they are, they built something from nothing. I watched them go from two arrogant twenty-somethings in a basement to two of the most powerful lawyers in the country. Because they work harder than anyone I've ever met. And because—" she exhaled lightly, shaking her head, "—as much as they pretend otherwise, they're loyal as hell."
Hana absorbed that, a slow realization settling over her.
She had worked for plenty of lawyers before—some brilliant, some competent, most mediocre at best.
But there was a difference between someone who was good at their job and someone who lived for it.
And these two?
They lived for it.
Before Hana could respond, Kai's unmistakable voice interrupted them.
"I hope you're not scaring our new hire, Naomi-san."
Naomi barely looked up. "You don't need me for that."
She stood, giving Hana a quick nod. "Go to my office if you need me."
And then she was gone.
Hana exhaled slowly, then turned to Kai, who looked infuriatingly entertained.
"What did I sign up for?" she muttered, rubbing her temples. "I'm starting to think you tricked me into this."
Kai grinned. "Welcome to Hasegawa & Sato Law."