It was a Friday morning, and Hana was already drowning in work, which meant it was the perfect time for someone to test her patience.
Sure enough, a shadow loomed over her desk, bringing with it the distinct energy of bullshit.
"No," she said immediately, not bothering to look up.
Kai hummed in amusement. "I haven't even said anything yet."
"You don't have to," she said, signing off on an expense report with the reckless speed of a woman who had other shit to do. "You have that look. And you only approach me when you need something."
Kai tsked. "O ye of little faith, Sukehiro."
She finally glanced up, unimpressed. "Get to the point before I add you to my list of workplace enemies."
He leaned casually against her desk, smile widening. "Alright. You're French right?"
Hana pointed a highlighter at him "Japanese-French. I don't even identify as French, I've never been to France"
"Uh-huh" Kai hummed "But on a scale of one to ten, how French are you feeling today?"
Hana looked at him suspiciously. WHAT.
"...Why?"
"See, we'll have a call with a French client in five minutes," Kai said smoothly. "Unfortunately, they speak neither English nor Japanese. They also, fun fact, don't have an interpreter."
"You have an actual interpreter on your payroll."
"Yes," he said pleasantly. "But I don't trust them not to filter Hasegawa out."
Hana snorted despite herself. "You mean soften his verbal war crimes into something more diplomatic?"
"Exactly," Kai said, grinning. "And you, dear Sukehiro, possess the unique skill set to translate even Hasegawa's most obscene profanities into something professional."
Hana exhaled slowly. "You mean, I'm the only one insane enough to."
"That too," Kai admitted.
She narrowed her eyes, already seeing the trap he was laying. "I hate you."
"I take that as compliment" he said, entirely unbothered. Then—before she could reject him outright—he gripped the back of her chair, spun it around, and started pushing her straight toward Hasegawa's office.
"Hey—"
"Shhh, trust the process."
Hana flailed uselessly as he rolled her like office furniture straight into Katsuki's lair.
-----
Katsuki knew something was wrong the second Kai entered his office.
Not because Kai being here was unusual—he had a bad habit of strolling in unannounced—but because he was pushing Hana's chair in front of him like a goddamn offering.
Katsuki's gaze dropped. Kai's hands—both of them—rested firmly on Hana's shoulders.
His fingers drummed against the fabric of her blouse, light and familiar.
And Hana?
She didn't even react.
She was too busy scowling at the universe, arms crossed, radiating grievance.
Something in Katsuki's chest tightened, sharp and irrational.
Kai—ever the opportunist—caught the flicker of irritation immediately and pressed.
"Good news, Hasegawa," he said, smiling like he knew exactly what he was doing. "I brought you a translator."
Katsuki's eyes snapped to him. "We have an interpreter."
"Yes," Kai said. "But would they try to—what was it, Sukehiro? Soften your verbal war crimes?"
Hana made a noise of betrayal, twisting around to glare at Kai. "Stop quoting me!"
Katsuki barely heard her. His focus remained on Kai's hands, still resting lightly on her shoulders—like he had the right to keep them there.
And worse?
She wasn't pushing them off.
He didn't like that.
Didn't like the way it looked.
Didn't like the implication that Kai could just move her wherever he wanted.
That was—irrational. Unimportant.
So he ignored it.
Completely.
Instead, he leaned back, folding his arms. "She's not an interpreter."
"Well," Kai mused, giving Hana's chair a final push—closer to Katsuki's desk, away from him. Good—"she is today."
Katsuki exhaled slowly, willing his irritation into something more manageable.
Then, with cool detachment, he looked directly at Hana.
"How French are you feeling today, Sukehiro?"
Her expression was murderous.
But she didn't say no.
_____
The meeting started exactly as expected.
Which was to say, with immediate hostility.
Katsuki, sharp-eyed and already unimpressed, leaned back in his chair as their French client launched into a rapid-fire tirade the moment the call connected.
Hana, seated beside him, did not hesitate.
« Je comprends parfaitement votre frustration, Monsieur. Permettez-moi d'expliquer la situation plus clairement. » (I completely understand your frustration, sir. Allow me to explain the situation more clearly.)
Her voice was calm, measured, smooth in a way that was highly un-Hana-like—which immediately set off alarm bells in his head.
Katsuki knew how she usually handled difficult clients. She was quick-witted, also sharp-edged, cutting, and just this side of insolent when she thought someone was being unreasonable.
And yet, none of that was present here.
Just polished professionalism, delivered in a language he didn't understand.
His gaze narrowed.
"What did he say?" he demanded, cutting through the conversation.
Hana, completely unfazed, flicked her eyes toward him before returning her attention to the screen.
"He's frustrated about the contract revisions," she said smoothly. "He thinks the language is too rigid."
Katsuki exhaled sharply, already prepared for this nonsense. "Tell him that's because their existing contract was written like a glorified handshake deal, and we don't operate on good faith alone."
Hana did not translate that immediately.
Instead, she smiled—sweet, deadly, a sure sign that she was about to manipulate the hell out of this conversation—and launched into something that was definitely not a direct translation.
« Je comprends votre préoccupation. Cependant, notre objectif est d'assurer une clarté totale et de protéger les intérêts de toutes les parties impliquées. » (I understand your concern. However, our goal is to ensure total clarity and protect the interests of all parties involved.)
Katsuki's gaze snapped to her.
"I don't think that's what I said."
Hana did not look at him.
"You said something aggressive," she murmured, still smiling, "and I translated it into something that won't immediately piss him off."
Kai, who had been entirely too quiet, hummed under his breath.
"She's good at this," he mused.
Katsuki ignored him.
Because he was still watching her, still tracking the way she spoke—too fluidly, too confidently, like this wasn't even a conscious effort for her.
It was unnerving, honestly.
Hana was always sharp, always quick, but this was something else entirely.
She was effortless.
The words came out smooth, refined—each syllable precise in a way that made it clear she wasn't just fluent; she was comfortable. And for someone like Hana—who thrived in chaos, who let her words run wild and unfiltered in every other setting—this was a rare display of control.
Katsuki didn't like surprises. Didn't like learning new things about people he already had figured out.
And yet, here he was, watching his assistant speak in a language that had no business sounding this good coming from her mouth, feeling a completely unwanted flicker of—
No.
Not attraction. Not that.
But something close to fascination.
(And fascination was not a word he liked either.)
Hana continued speaking, seamlessly weaving between Katsuki's increasingly combative instructions and her own diplomatic filters, shaping his profanities and verbal assault into something that wouldn't immediately result in a lawsuit.
And every time he caught the edge of something he knew wasn't a direct translation, his irritation grew.
"This is bullshit," he muttered, low enough that only Kai could hear.
Kai, of course, was smug as hell.
"She's doing you a favor, Hasegawa."
Katsuki scowled. "By ignoring half of what I'm saying?"
"By making sure you don't burn this deal to the ground in record time."
Katsuki gritted his teeth, eyes flicking back to Hana.
"Ask him," he said, watching her reaction closely, "why the hell he didn't bring his own interpreter."
Hana, without missing a beat, turned back to the client and said—
« Nous apprécions votre patience. Afin de mieux répondre à vos attentes, permettez-moi de clarifier quelques points. » (We appreciate your patience. In order to better meet your expectations, allow me to clarify a few points.)
Katsuki's glare sharpened.
"That wasn't a question."
Kai actually laughed, shaking his head.
Hana ignored both of them, gracefully steering the conversation toward finalizing the agreement rather than letting Katsuki turn it into a full-scale war.
By the time the meeting finally wrapped, Katsuki was certain that not a single profanity had made it through her filter, which meant the French client had received a highly edited, PR-approved version of his thoughts.
Which meant he'd been effectively censored.
Which meant—
"I hate this," he muttered, still watching her, still tracking the way she settled back into her chair like she hadn't just betrayed him linguistically.
Kai, unbothered, closed the call with an easy smile.
« Merci pour votre temps. Nous organiserons un suivi très bientôt. » (Thank you for your time. We'll arrange a follow-up very soon.)
Hana's head snapped around so fast she almost gave herself whiplash.
Kai spoke perfect French.
Kai had spoken perfect French this entire time.
And he had said nothing.
Hana glared at him.
Kai, the absolute bastard, just winked.