A/N: I'm not going to lie, if I thought I'd keep up with it I'd turn this into it's own story because I have an undying love of AUs and I like to shover Shinpi into as many of them as I can.

BZZZZZZZZZ

Minamino Shuichi, known to his friends affectionately as Kurama, counted the seconds of silence that lapsed after he'd pressed the call button on the box controlling a large gate protecting a rather expansive and well tended estate, if the glimpses he could catch through the bars were anything to go by. He waited nearly a minute for someone to answer before shifting his shoulder bag into a more comfortable position and checking his watch. He once again pressed the small green button restarting the process of waiting to be acknowledged.

Sighing when yet again, a minute passed without a response he wrinkled his nose. He'd been warned about this interviewee. Yomi had sent him because everyone else had failed to actually get anything worth writing about. He didn't often like to conduct these sorts of frivolous meetups. He preferred to meet with innovators, scientists, people who were changing things, who were growing their fields or helping people. He even enjoyed working in areas claimed by disaster more than being forced to sit across a table from someone who made far too much money doing far too little while living a lifestyle of useless opulence. The fact Yomi had forced this assignment on him showed how desperate the director of their magazine had become to land this piece.

Mentally, he prepared his opening for this article. I was left standing at the gate for five minutes before anyone actually bothered to acknowledge me, a symptom of the narcissism inherent in the upper class and the obvious, selfish, disregard for anyone's time not their own. Though I do have to say, the gate was rather beautiful with it's vines and roses twisted from the wrought iron, reaching toward the sky with intentions bared as the lovely curves formed jagged spikes to keep out would-be intruders.

The sound of gears whirring grabbed his attention as the gate began to slowly peel open, allowing him to properly see the manicured lawn that carpeted only a bit of the front yard, lining the driveway before fading into thick gardens on either side. Delicate lanterns and string lights hung from the trees providing soft light to guide him to the front door, but he'd barely made three steps in before nearly dropping his bag at the sound of a deep voice.

"You're late."

Kurama turned slowly to see a man dwarfing him on his left, a look of sheer disinterest painted over his features. Long dark hair pulled back into a half-bun, the strands seemed to melt into the black suit he wore.

"She hates it when people are late." The man started walking up the driveway toward the front door.

Kurama checked his watch and glanced up at the man. "I apologize for any confusion but I'm actually a little early."

"You were supposed to be here a half-hour ago." The man didn't bother looking back at him.

Kurama felt it best not to argue, as it didn't seem like it would get him anywhere. The man's stern tone left little room for compromise so he'd take it up with his host herself. Whatever miscommunication had occurred should be cleared up quickly that way. As they walked he made note of everything he could, the style of lanterns, the trees, the large glass windows displaying a luxurious interior of the house. Well, less of a house and more a mansion. One of the biggest homes he'd ever crossed the threshold of. He captured the appropriate details in his small digital voice recorder and let his opinions rest in his mind where he could call on them out of ear-shot.

Golden light fell from the branches of the trees, courtesy of the lanterns, and it spilled from the black-trimmed floor-to-ceiling windows as though the house was incapable of containing it all. Two visible levels made up the home from the outsiders view, the second set back slightly so that an overhang of a wrap around balcony worked as a divider between floors. He couldn't make out the details of what might lurk above him, actual walls existed up there protecting the interior from his prying gaze. The roof held a particularly 'custom made for someone with money' slant, what he could see of the tiles looking far from traditional. Everything about the appearance of the abode was crafted with intention, he could see that. It was made with style and precision which he could appreciate. Almost as though the house hungered to be a piece of artwork but instead suffered the fate of being a usable structure.

They walked into a spacious foyer, spotted by potted trees. A table at the center of the room, red stained wood that stood out against the glittering white marble floor, was burdened with a vase of painfully arranged flowers. The vase, he noticed, had veins of gold flowing through the colorful design. It didn't look like a particularly expensive piece so it was strange to him that his hostess would take the time to have it repaired instead of just buying a new one.

He wasn't left standing there for long before the sound of heels clicking against the marbe alerted him to the presence of someone new. In casual, purposeful strides the object of his boss's ire revealed herself and he felt immediately like he was going to hate every second of this ordeal. That sort of raw confidence of someone who has no need for the opinion of others cloaked the woman as she pressed a dangling earring into her earlobe, fastening it in place before sweeping her blue eyes toward him.

Takani Amon-Shinpi, known throughout many social circles as simply Shinpi, stood before him with some interest lighting her face. An heir to her father's fortune should he pass, she had a twin sister who was even more removed from the public than she was. Notoriously private scoring an interview was a prospect that had many journalists and reporters clamoring over one another. Making it to the end of one was an instance so rare he had never actually heard of it happening.

That's why Yomi had sent him here.

He'd never in his career failed to accomplish a task handed to him. He was the last resort, the ace up the sleeve.

Kurama took her entrance as a moment to lock the details of her outfit into place. Readers ate up that sort of information. An unusually tall woman, she stood with her chin level with the floor, her sapphire jewelry competing with her eyes for which could shine the darkest. A designer gown, he'd have to ask her who made it, draped her frame in a wash of blush pink silk. The geometric black boning of the bodice created a defined cage around her ribs and chest though it covered anything one might consider immodest unless one objected to collarbones. The skirt spilled down toward the ground, kept from pooling around her feet only by the height of the black hees she wore. A slit up the side came to a stop just above her left knee. Crimson hair formed a braid on the right side of her head, gathering into a sleek ponytail at her nape.

She stopped dead in her tracks, single red eyebrow rising to carve an arch on her forehead before she glanced down at her wrist watch, a delicate looking thing of silver and what he thought looked like mother-of-pearl. Her eyes rose again to meet his, this time with her lips pursed.

There was no false sense of friendliness for his presence. She obviously didn't feel the need to make a good impression or she merely didn't value his opinion enough to bother

"You're considerably late, Mr. Minamino." She told him with some annoyance. "I don't appreciate people who lack regard for my time. Do you have nimble fingers? I need help with my buttons."

"Buttons?" She walked over to him and turned around so he could see the row of buttons rising from the small of her back to between her shoulder blades, closing her gown. Lifting her hair out of the way she waited for him to act, which he did with delicate motions, working the loops closed.

This was already turning into one of the strangest interviews he'd conducted.

"I apologize, but I think there was a mistake somewhere in our line of communication. I was told to arrive here at seven, which I've done." He smiled for her, putting on that charm that foiled most of his problems. "I was left waiting at your gate for a few minutes so I didn't intend to waste your time, I can assure you Ms. Takani."

Lifting his wrist so she could check the time with interest she made a small sound of understanding. "Perhaps you need to change your battery, Mr. Minamino because your watch is no longer accurate."

He blinked at her then pulled his arm back. To demonstrate she lifted her wrist so he could see the face of her watch. She was correct. Frowning he examined his timepiece with disdain.

Of all the days for it fail him.

"I'm surprised you rely on a watch and not a cellphone. That's awfully dated of you." She offered him a cheeky smile while remaining close. "Is that a choice of yours?"

"No. My phone is actually broken at the moment, Ms. Takani, thank you for your concern." He explained while trying to keep his curtness from his voice.

"Shame. I rather enjoy eccentric personalities who do things for the sake of doing them." She shrugged. "Unfortunate that your watch has cost you this opportunity."

"Pardon me?" He stared at her. "What do you mean?"

"I have a benefit to attend, and I carved out a bit of time to allow this interview but unfortunately that time has passed. I'm already going to be late." She tossed him an apologetic smile. "I'm very sorry to have wasted your time."

He felt heat flood his face, not just from his immediate wave of frustration but also embarrassment that this was actually his fault and not the will of an arrogant heiress. Yomi was going to be beyond pissed. Though her phrasing did indicate she had never meant for the interview to succeed.

"You're still wearing your jacket." She seemed to notice suddenly. "And your bag. Hai, why is this gentleman not seated somewhere?"

"He was late, you were in a hurry." The dark-haired giant appeared again. "Why waste any more time?"

"Your luck is awful." She told Kurama with a knowing look. "I've been there too. I'll try to make it a little better for you. You'll ride with me to the event, we'll do the interview in the car and you'll at least recoup some of your time. Not ideal but better than nothing."

She didn't seem to need to wait for his approval before she began to walk away as though she expected him to follow. He remained in place until the giant, now known simply as Hai, nodded for him to get moving. Out of obligation he traced her path through the house, leaving the foyer to pass through the large dining room then the impressive kitchen. Eventually he found himself in a rather large garage, the vehicles within including at least one motorcycle, a town car, a sports car he didn't know the make of off the top of his head but he was certain Hiei would, and another motorcycle and some empty spots clearly meant for cars that had already left.

The man in the suit opened the town car's rear door and allowed for the woman to slide in first before Kurama followed, arranging himself to take up as little space next to her as possible while Hai moved around the vehicle to claim the driver's seat. The engine was quiet as it purred to life, unlike most of the taxis Kurma had been in. It also smelled considerably better with no hint of the pungent remains of cigarette smoke like Yusuke's beaten down relic.

"If we're on the record you should turn that on." Ms. Takani tapped the digital recorder in his breast pocket with a small smile. "Go ahead, start up your questions. It'll take us only about twenty minutes to get to the venue. That should be enough time."

It decidedly wasn't enough time, Kurama knew, and he suspected she knew this as well. It occurred to him that she'd only allotted a half-hour for their interview. How was he supposed to create a full biopic from such little information? It didn't help that his only notes from Yomi were 'find out whatever you can, just make it interesting enough to sell magazines'.

"What is this benefit you're going to?" He asked, flicking the switch on the device to catch their conversation on the tiny memory card within.

"It's to raise money for a program I'm fostering. Tutors for children in lower demographic schools. The test scores in some areas display a laughable difference between higher and lower income districts and I'd like to even the playing field. No child decides their circumstance and they shouldn't be punished as though they had a hand in what little privilege they received. By opening free tutoring to those districts I'm hoping to boost the chances of more children seeing the benefit of continuing education." She smiled for him as though he might take a picture, an artful display of sincerity and teeth.

He had no intention of photographing her though and it seemed to allow her to settle more comfortably.

"Do you think tutoring is the answer to such a discrepancy in achievement?" He wondered, checking the bitterness coating his tongue.

"No." She admitted to him readily with a headshake. "But it is the first stage of a larger plan I have. We're working with some schools, a select few as a test, to provide what we're calling scholarships to children who apply for work permits. Instead of requiring the children to take jobs we are offering them a sort of base salary in monthly payments. I feel the income boost is more likely to impact their situation. The flip side of this, of course, is the requirement for them to upkeep their grades. Thus the free tutors."

"It's an interesting idea." Kurama told her.

"You don't seem to agree with it or perhaps it doesn't agree with you." She lifted her chin delicately, offering him another knowing smile as street lights flashed over her eyes. "I'd like to hear your opinions on this matter. Perhaps I'll gleen something important that I'm missing."

"So, you're raising money for this cause. What else are you doing with your time?" He pressed on, ignoring her obvious push to get him to talk.

"Is this not enough?" She wondered aloud with humor.

"Surely it doesn't occupy your every second."

"You're correct in that assumption." She conceded with a smile that touched her eyes but not with warmth. More so it seemed she was enjoying something at his expense.

He waited for her to elaborate and realized quickly she wasn't going to. This was the trouble he'd been warned about. Amon-Shinpi was a notoriously noncompliant interviewee, more than once outright leaving in the middle of a question if she didn't feel like answering. He had the fortune of having her trapped in a car with him.

She had the benefit of a time limit on their ride, however.

"I read your article on the doctor in Berlin, by the way. Fascinating, the work he's been able to accomplish with neural networking. Do you two keep in touch? I'd love to hear about his theories on mechanized prosthetics." She traced the line of her necklace, a line of tear-drop shaped glittering sapphires that met at her collarbone before forming a line down her chest in a mimicry of water sliding over her skin. "You should do a follow up piece with him on that matter. I'd enjoy reading it."

Kurama stared at her for a moment before a crease formed in his brow. "You read that article?"

"I did." She nodded. "I've read quite a few of your more prolific pieces. I was actually quite surprised when you went to work for Yomi given your talents. That's my victory though, I get to be interviewed by my favorite journalist, however briefly." She grinned outright, such an honest expression he wished he'd had a photographer present because it was nothing like the few images of her in the tabloids or staged professional shoots he'd seen of her. "This is hopefully a victory for us both."

He'd never once seen this woman depicted as smiling in any newspaper or magazine or tabloid. Not once.

"Did you come up with this tutoring program?" He asked, pushing for more details on what she'd already offered since he didn't feel there was enough time to begin a new line of interrogation.

"No. It was something that was brought to my attention by someone else, but I took up the cause." Her allowance came with an edge. "Why did you accept such a silly interview? This must seem awfully dull to such an accomplished man."

"Every interview has its value." He informed her easily, a line he'd offered a hundred times to a hundred people.

"Interesting."

"What is?"

"That you'd lie to me in my own car." Amon-Shinpi's smile turned dangerous and her eyes fixed to his like missiles locking onto a heat-signature. She reached over and tapped his recorder where it rested in his pocket. "You have rather staunch views on the frivolity of fundraising at this level. I doubt coming to work for a man like Yomi has changed your views."

"I didn't mean to offend you." Kurama frowned, doing his best to recover whatever had gone wrong.

"You didn't offend me, Mr. Minamino. I'm merely commenting on the fact that you don't want to be in this car." She pointed out easily, but her gaze never lost its sharpness. "You know, Yomi did a good job sending you. I have to applaud his efforts. That man does have a talent for learning and exploiting a weakness."

"We're pulling up." The driver announced.

"What weakness?" Kurama glanced at the cars lining the side of the road as they approached their stop.

"Well, you made it farther than most of your comrades. That'll count for something. You've been far more tolerable to be around." Amon-Shinpi fussed over her hair for a moment. "And father will be happy that I sat still long enough to answer a few questions. We both win."

The car pulled up to the curb of an expensive hotel with what he knew would be a wildly lavish ballroom full of equally rich people. As she exited the car with all the grace and self-assurance of a woman on a mission, he leaned out.

"Hayato, take him wherever he needs to go." She touched the car's roof as she spoke to the driver through his window.

"What weakness?" Kurama repeated earnestly, curious for her answer.

"My adoration of beautiful things." Her smile was neither innocent nor threatening and he couldn't quite place its meaning but he wanted to dive from the car to continue this vein of conversation. He didn't get the chance as the driver pulled away, forcing him to yank the door closed or fall out.

"That'll be something, at least." Kurama spoke to himself.

A laugh from the front seat earned his attention, confusion maring his brow. A pair of dark eyes met his in the rearview mirror, a sudden light of humor touching what had previously been an emotionless face.

"You should check your recorder."

Kurama pulled the device from his pocket and sat stunned in silence for a moment as he grappled with the meaning of the driver's words. She'd turned it off.

The only interesting, honest part of his interview had been off the record.