Even if you didn't want to make friends with someone—even if you downright disliked them—you still had to stay in the company, right?
By now, unless they'd joined within the last two days, everyone at Berry Pro already knew who Hiro Saitou was.
The president's nephew.
He'd visited the office multiple times already, and rumors were swirling: the president had been quietly assigning him tasks to "groom him" for something bigger.
To most, that meant one thing—the president intended to bring Hiro into the company's core. This was just the beginning of his trial.
So anyone dumb enough to look down on Hiro Saitou risked more than just a cold shoulder. They could get dumped with grunt work, stuck in limbo under a nitpicking boss, or worse—fired.
And now, here was that same Hiro Saitou, barely twelve, handing out bags of sea bream yakisaki and introducing a classmate to everyone with a smile.
It wasn't flashy, sure. Not like those spoiled rich heirs with chauffeurs and diamond watches. But still—he didn't need to act arrogant to be powerful.
Even handing out something simple like pastries, Hiro got polite bows and warm responses.
"We'll take care of her."
"Don't worry, Saitou-kun."
"Of course, leave her to us."
They weren't just being nice. They were being smart.
Hiro could guess what some of them were thinking behind those fake smiles. But it didn't matter.
This was part of the plan.
By walking Ai Hoshino through the company and introducing her personally, he made sure nobody would mess with her.
She wouldn't survive in the industry if she didn't have backing.
But Ai didn't realize any of that. She just thought Hiro was doing some weirdly formal "greeting ritual."
She had no idea how many quiet battles were already being fought behind the scenes.
In truth, these little gift handouts weren't just friendly gestures—they were a declaration: this girl is under Hiro Saitou's protection.
And since this company was owned by his family, that meant something.
Before they began handing anything out, Hiro asked Yoroko Maeda at the front desk for the daily schedule.
"This is today's personnel assignment," she said, showing him the roster.
He scanned it quickly, memorized the key names, and nodded. "Thanks, Maeda-san."
Then he turned to Ai.
"Let's go."
Carrying the bag together, they started delivering the pastries, one stop at a time.
"Thanks for your hard work," Hiro said again and again. "She's a newly signed idol and my classmate. Please take care of her."
Truthfully, just showing up with Ai would've been enough.
But Hiro believed in being thorough. A small gift and a few kind words smoothed everything over.
Why make enemies when you could win allies?
At each stop, he introduced Ai to the staff and explained their roles—who did scheduling, who managed costumes, and who edited promotional content.
But there were too many people.
After a while, Ai's brain felt like it was melting.
"There's no way I'm remembering all of this today..." she muttered, overwhelmed.
Hiro paused, realizing she wasn't used to this kind of thing.
She was still just a student. Of course she wouldn't be used to all this networking and company structure.
He glanced again at the roster. Most of the team had already received gifts. They'd made a strong enough impression.
"There's no need to push it. Let's head to the dance studio."
"Huh? That's it?" Ai blinked. "Can I start practicing now?"
"Well... I still have a few more gifts left to give," Hiro said, biting into one of the pastries as they walked.
He'd meant for this to be Ai's proper introduction, but if it was overwhelming her, there was no point in dragging it out.
He could finish the rest himself later.
"You don't want one?" he asked, his mouth full. "Still plenty left."
"Not before practice," Ai replied firmly. "I'll get sluggish."
Hiro smirked and led her to the studio.
Inside, the practice room was wide and empty—around two hundred square meters—with only a few mirrors, sound equipment, and bags lying around.
At the far end stood a man in a sharp black suit and sunglasses, arms crossed, watching over several girls rehearsing their steps.
"Ai, you're finally here," he said, turning toward them. "What's this brat doing with you?"
"Don't look at me. I didn't want to come," Hiro said lazily. "I just wanted to see how you train her."
"Don't take this lightly!" the man snapped. "The idol world isn't some fairy tale."
Ai stood frozen, unsure how to react as the man's voice grew louder.
"Idols live inside a dream made of lies. That's what fans pay for."
"Dance, vocals, stamina—that's the bare minimum."
"But that's not enough. Looks, aura, presence—all of it matters."
"Even then, you could still fail. One scandal, and it's over."
"I've seen idols disappear from one bad headline."
Hiro, unfazed, stepped forward with a grin. He still had boxes of sea bream yakisaki in hand.
"Catch!"
Without warning, he tossed the whole stack at the instructor.
Startled, the man scrambled to catch what he could, fumbling several boxes as others crashed to the floor.
He glared at Hiro. "You brat—again?!"
"Qi! Rattan! Elegant!" Hiro laughed, teasing with random dramatic words as he skipped back a few steps.
The man looked like he wanted to chase Hiro down and pin him to the floor. "One of these days, I'm going to teach you some manners!"
"Good luck catching me," Hiro grinned.
Still chewing on red bean pastry, he winked at Ai, who was doing her best not to laugh.
That was Hiro Saitou.
Always reckless.
Always unpredictable.
And always... watching over her.
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