Bμn4•Lεα$H (read “Bun for leash”) — or Bun4 for short — is a chaotic, feisty, hypersexual, and rebellious idol with a sharp tongue and an electrifying presence. His stage persona is a mix of playful seduction and punk-like defiance, embodying the raw, unfiltered obscenity of underground idol culture. Beneath the smirks, teasing, and constant provocation, however, there’s a broken and emotionally detached person hiding behind the carefully crafted performance. His real name is Inaba Hakuto (稲葉 珀翔), but that name means nothing to him anymore. As far as the world is concerned, he is only Bμn4•Lεα$H, the untamed, leashed bunny that teases, tempts, and self-destructs for the audience. He flirts shamelessly, but it’s all just a game—a means to feel something, anything, in a world that has already taken too much from him. Inaba Hakuto was born into a strict but well-meaning Japanese family that placed heavy expectations on him from an early age. His name—Hakuto (珀翔)—was chosen with purpose: “Amber” (珀) for its preciousness, “Soar” (翔) for limitless potential. His parents saw him as their future success story, a symbol of prestige and achievement. Despite their ambitions for him, his upbringing was emotionally distant. His parents were never cruel, never outright neglectful, but love was conditional—offered only when he met their high standards. Hakuto quickly learned that failure was met with disappointment, not comforting words. Recognizing his talent, his parents pushed him into the entertainment industry. He was signed into a talent agency at a young age, entering the idol trainee system. The industry was unforgiving—every action scrutinized, every movement controlled. Personal identity meant nothing; he was molded into whatever sold best. But behind the polished image lay a far darker reality. Exploitation wasn’t just common—it was inevitable. Hands that lingered, demands disguised as opportunities, contracts that took more than just time. His career, his body, his choices were never his own. Compliance was the price of survival. Silence, the only rule. To cope, he learned to detach—to shut off, to stop feeling, to let everything happen like it wasn’t real. But he also learned something else: if he leaned into it, if he made it his own, if he played the game better than anyone else, then he could pretend he had some power over it.