A/N: This was supposed to be a one shot, oops. Have a part two.

Kurama's studio apartment felt all the smaller for having seen the spacious interior of the Takani home. Hai, whose name he had learned was actually Hayato once the man corrected him upon their polite dismissals on the curb outside the building, had driven across town to drop him at his door. It was a kind thing to do, to have her driver deliver him safely home, but that act felt hollow in the wake of discovering she'd tampered with his digital recorder.

He could already hear Yomi berating him for letting his opportunity slip away. Calling him a fool for not planning better. He dreaded what poor excuse for a new assignment he'd be given in retaliation for this failure. He'd been sent because he was the best and had still come up short.

Truly, he'd underestimated his opponent.

Maybe it was the way she'd seemed accommodating that had thrown him off. Offering to let him ride with her to at least recovery some of his time had been thoughtful. Now it seemed deviously well planned. He had let his guard down and paid for it dearly.

That woman was every bit the monster she was rumored to be.

Though, he couldn't place blame solely on her bare shoulders. Sulking, he sat himself on his hand-me-down couch and removed his watch to study the face, reading the time with the feeling of a man knowing the clocks were stopping as his fate sealed around him. When he'd been at the estate it had been a little over a half hour late and now it was forty minutes. Rapidly, it seemed, his battery was giving out. He'd have to visit a jeweler first thing in the morning to get it repaired to avoid future errors.

Irritated, he set the watch to the side on his coffee table and opened the laptop he'd left on the charger awaiting his return. He plugged his earbuds into the recorder and hit play to listen to the interview as he began drafting this mess of an article.

It didn't help that he had no goal in mind. Yomi's lack of guidance in that area and his own lack of interest in the subject were a recipe for haplessness. Should he frame the entire thing about her benefit? A benevolent princess sitting in her multi-million dollar castle surrounded by a carefully curated forest of the family's making?

Or should he write a scathing editorial about how she had ruined the interview with no remorse by pressing stop?

It was too late in the night to choose and he didn't have enough to substantiate any personal opinions. He couldn't exactly cite his annoyance as a credible source. He set the scene, described the grounds, the house, but once he got to where he was supposed to introduce the woman herself he faltered. Unplugging his headphones he set the device to record and listed off his impressions, described her outfit and demeanor, her car, her driver or butler or whatever the man was, and when he was out of words he turned it all off.

His laptop. His recorder. His calm.

Instead he rose to his feet, dug in a kitchen drawer for his emergency stash of cigarettes that he only smoked when he was at an impasse and moved out to his balcony to pollute the night air with his vice. Dragging in a lungful of smoke he stared over the dusky horizon of a city alive despite the residents resting in their homes. There had to be a way to make this work out for him. A way to come out on top.

He just needed to think and it would come to him.

"What did you expect?" Hiei grumbled from below Kurama, under a car on his rolling creepy. The sound of swearing followed the tell-tale metal clatter of something falling against the shop's concrete floor. "If you're going to stand there whining at least be useful. Slide that light under here."

Kurama did as requested, using his foot to slide a rather bright lamp light under the car.

"I expected to deal with a reasonable human being." Kurama griped.

"That's your first problem, you expected too much from the start. No one with that much money is ever going to be reasonable. The human part is also a stretch." Hiei grunted. "Mukuro is going to have my ass for having you back here again."

"I know." He admitted. "I'm just frustrated. She turned off my recorder and she did it so slyly. The only mildly interesting thing she had to say. All the talk about her charity work is common knowledge, it was all announced the same night during the benefit."

Hiei slid out from under the car, gripping the bumper with a dull expression. "You're annoyed she bested you because you're used to getting your way."

"No, I'm annoyed I have nothing and Yomi is demanding I get a second interview. Do you know how many people have ever managed to land a second interview with that woman?"

"No, but I can assume from knowing you the number is about to go up by one." The other man collapsed back on his creeper and slid under the car once again. "Stop complaining and get it over with."

Kurama tossed his hands in the air and paced away from his friend, turning at the sound of a knowing giggle. He spied Yukina who had grease on her cheeks. She wiped her hands on a shop towel and shook her head at him. Her teal hair was pulled up into a handsomely sloppy bun, a white bandana rolled and tied atop her head in a cute bow. Somehow she managed to look sweet even in her mechanic jumper.

"He's right. It's not like you to give up so easily." She told the redhead.

"I didn't say I was giving up." Kurama sighed heavily, running his clean hands through his bangs then his hair. "I'm just frustrated. That's allowed, isn't it?"

"Who is this viper of a woman?" Yukina asked with humor, walking over to an oil and paint stained counter to grab her dented metal water bottle.

"An heiress by name of Takani." He lamented.

She choked on her water. Another clash of metal and then the quick sound of the creeper's wheels rolling as Hiei emerged once again.

"Did you say Takani?" He demanded, eyebrows high on his forehead.

"He did." Yukina regained her breath after a second of sputtering. "Oh, Kurama."

"I retract my previous statement." Hiei snorted with a smirk. "You're never going to get that interview. That woman is as stubborn as she is tall."

"You know her?"

"She's a regular customer." Yukina explained with an apologetic smile. "We're the only shop she'll take her vehicles to. She says we're the only trustworthy mechanics she's ever met."

"She favors Yukina because, in her words, it's nice to finally have a mechanic as pretty as they are competent." Hiei rolled his eyes.

"She said the same thing about you." Yukina pointed with a laugh. "She's a harmless flirt, but she knows her cars and she knows how to pay well for good service. She slides us a tip every time she comes and she'll even bring food."

"She's annoying and thinks she knows more than we do and she'll argue over whether or not work actually needs to be done." Hiei contradicted with feeling. "She's just nice to you because you're cute."

"That's why everyone's nice to me." Yukina beamed with the declaration. "Don't look so sour, she told me that even though you're surly you're very fun to look at."

Kurama had to laugh at that. He considered everything they were saying. "Maybe I should take quotes from you two."

"No."

The new voice that cut through the conversation made Hiei glare at Kurama with a look of accusation as Mukuro leaned in the doorway leading to her office, her hand on her hip. Her blue eyes studied the redhead with some interest but also boredom.

"The Takani family are respected customers, and they have been coming here for years. I'm not going to have them scared off because you were here stirring up trouble, Minamino." She explained. "And do you two not have enough to do?"

"I fucking told you." Hiei grumbled before laying back and disappearing under the car once more.

"I'm just taking a short break. I'm almost done." Yukina hid her smile behind her water bottle as she took another sip. "Good luck, Kurama. You're going to need it."

…

Kurama had a cup of hot tea next to him at the small round table in his kitchen, headphones in as he replayed his brief interview again looking for grains that he could turn into mountains. Anything to use that would be fresh. Any truth that had escaped notice.

Something.

Come on, Takani, give me something.

"And father will be happy I sat still long enough to answer a few questions. We both win."

Kurama hit pause on the recorder and stared at his laptop screen for a few hot seconds before he made a consideration. It wasn't his best idea, in fact it seemed underhanded. Yomi had told him to do whatever he could.

He needed a second interview.

And Miss Takani had him handed the way to it without a thought.

BZZZZZZZZZ

Kurama held little hope for an answer as he pressed the call button that would, theoretically, open the towering wrought iron gate separating the Takani estate from the rest of the mundane world. This time his watch had a fresh battery, his phone had a new screen courtesy of his boss, and he was fifteen minutes early. Just as he was about to lay into the button with passive aggressive intensity, the gate began to move.

The tall man greeted him with subdued humor. "You must be a masochist."

"I don't know what you mean." Kurama provided a false smile. "Is Miss Takani prepared to see me?"

Without answering, the man gestured for him to begin walking. Kurama held his recorder loosely in his hand, admiring the grounds in the sunlight. The flowers of the garden were in bloom, speckling the green of the bushes, vines, and leaves with vivid and varied color. He could now also see that creeping ivy scaled this side of the grey-brick wall enclosing the estate. The trees, upon closer inspection in daylight, were blossoming fruit trees. He came to a stop under one and reached up to glance his fingers off the petals of a small white flower.

The air was fragrant with the perfume of the trees coming to life, prepared to ripen and provide their fruits to the world.

"Peach blossoms are rather beautiful, aren't they? And the fruit they provide is so sweet."

Kurama lowered his hand slowly, turning to look over his shoulder. Amon-Shinpi stood a distance away, watching him. Her shoulders were covered today, in a dirt smeared white tee shirt that hung loose around her form. A black sun hat cast shade over her face. On her hands were abused garden gloves. The jeans she wore were stained on the knees, holes worn through them in several places. Even her tennis shoes were messy, ruined by grass and mud. As he watched she pulled the gloves off delicately, shoving them into her back pocket before crossing her arms over her chest to regard him.

"I have to say, I am quite surprised by you. It takes a special touch to catch me off guard these days." She offered him a practiced smile and her tone was warm but he was familiar with the coldness it disguised.

He steadied himself to deal with the blowback he knew was coming his way. He'd known the risk of his actions but he committed to them anyway. He was in for a penny and a pound.

"Does your mother know you're here, at a stranger's home?" She asked, still smiling for him, the picture of a hostess in her prime.

"Pardon?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I would think you'd need her permission. Since you're clearly a child." She beamed at him. "After all, no adult man would tattle to someone's father the way you did."

Hayato snorted to cover a laugh at Kurama's expense. He shook his head and left, which Kurama only caught in his periphery because he was not about to take his eyes off the woman as he spied the gardening knife strapped to her ankle.

"I received a very enlightening phone call from my father last night in which he told me I had to give you more time because I apparently, rudely, dismissed you. That was news to me because as I remember it you were late to meet me and then I graciously offered you time to at least ask a few of your questions."

"Miss Takani, please allow me to explain. I did not call you rude." Kurama adjusted his bag higher onto his shoulder. "I merely contacted your father as a way to establish communication with you. I informed him that our interview was unfortunately cut short. I assure you that I did tell him it was my fault I was late, and I made sure to mention you did attempt to give me some of your time. It was not my intention to get you into trouble."

"Is that so?" She lowered her chin toward her chest to drop her friendly act.

"I may have also mentioned, in passing, that you accidentally seem to have turned off my digital recorder when you touched my pocket in your car. If he mistook your actions for intentional, that was not my doing." He flashed her another of his charming grins to try to throw her off his scent.

Blue eyes swept him foot to head like she was scanning him for falsehoods. Clicking her tongue she loosened her arms and turned to study the garden behind her. "You have one hour, Mr. Minamino. That is all I'm willing to give you."

"I'll keep my recorder close to avoid any more mishaps so I won't have to call on you a third time." He agreed, following her over the lawn as she began to walk. She offered a huff of laughter and shot him a peculiar look he didn't quite understand. "Are we going to sit?"

"No." She led him into the garden, the grass giving way to red mulch that lined paths from this point around the side of the grounds.

Now that he had made it passed the front of the house he could see how far the garden actually stretched. The yard was expansive, the garden larger than his whole apartment. What felt like a mile away he could see a massive greenhouse glistening in the warm summer air. He began to quickly regret wearing a long-sleeve button down and black slacks, suspenders pressing into his shoulders under his blazer. The heat was going to make quick work of him, he realized.

He hadn't thought that maybe the heiress would do her own gardening. He assumed they'd meet indoors, in the kitchen or parlor or an office where there would be air conditioning.

They came to a stop when she knelt to the ground, pulling her gloves out of her back pocket to slip them once again over her hands. Beside her spot was a pile of weeds on one side and on the other seedlings in need of transplant.

"Do you enjoy gardening?" He asked her.

"Is that an official question?" She responded a bit dryly without looking at him. "Yes, I do. I enjoy being outside and I like working with my hands. I believe working on something you enjoy builds character."

"When did you start? This garden is impressive." He once again glanced over all the flowers, shrubs, trees, and the stone fixtures laid throughout.

"I've been gardening since I was a child." She told him without inflection. "Being outside always came naturally to me."

"You started this when you were a child?" He stared at her. "That's an incredible feat for a child, how old were you? It looks professionally laid out."

"I didn't plan the garden, I helped cultivate it. My grandmother designed it and began the work. I'm merely continuing another legacy." Amon-Shinpi paused her work. "She loved this garden. It brought her a lot of joy so I make sure it stays well-kempt."

"A sort of living memorial." He nodded despite her not looking his way.

"All memorials are for the living." She muttered in response, though it was such a quiet response he wondered if his recorder would even pick it up. He decided to place the device on the ground between them, safely atop the mulch with the microphone facing his interviewee so he could pull his notebook from his bag and start taking notes for himself.

"When you say another legacy, are you referring to being the heiress of your father's fortune?" He wondered, sketching a rough depiction of the garden surrounding them.

"I have to wonder why everyone hyper fixates on the money." She told him, pulling back to rest her bottom on her heels so she could finally look him over. "You would think my father is nothing but a walking banknote from the way people talk about him. There is more to him, you know. He's a man of great esteem."

"I'm not here to talk about your father, I'm here to talk about you." He glanced up from his drawing to settle his attention on her.

"Then ask better questions and leave my family out of it." She demanded coolly. "You brought my father up, I commented on it. That is a conversation. You don't want to talk, you want me to talk, so ask questions that will make that happen."

"You have a reputation for being hostile to reporters and journalists. Want to comment on that?" He let his eyebrows raise because he felt a smile might provoke her and he didn't need that.

"Sure. I'll gladly tell you that my entire life has been dotted by the people looking to make money on my family, or a name on my family, or merely who feel like proximity to us is in itself a social status. That once a reporter harassed my sister to the point that she would not leave her room for fear of being accosted. That I have had my own unfortunate encounters, most of which revolve being asked impertinent, personal questions from strangers who are just trying to make a few dollars and have no idea that what they're doing is insincere." She stabbed at the roots of a weed with her words, working it free from the soil through force. "My life is not a script ready to be read by the hungry eyes of outsiders, Mr. Minamino. It is a real life, belonging to a real person, and that person happens to feel that being put on display like a character in a book is troublesome."

Her rant came to an abrupt end as she stopped moving.

"That's off the record." She added emptily.

Kurama lowered his notebook and studied her with keen interest. "Why?"

"It doesn't matter why, I said it's off the record and you're supposed to be a man of integrity. So it's off the record." She didn't seem to know what to do with her hands. "Ask me something else."

He looked around them, silent for a beat. A beat too long it seemed because she glanced at him, he could feel it and just make out the movement from the corner of his eye. "Which is your favorite?"

"What?" She made a face when he looked at her, confusion pulling her brows together and messing up her mouth.

"Of the plants." He gestured around them. "Which is your favorite?"

"If you're going to make fun of me you can go." She rolled her eyes.

"You told me to ask you a question, and I still have nearly an hour with you. Surely the discussion of flowers isn't too personal." He continued to look at her until she finally relaxed some and took a moment to look around them.

"Gardenias." She admitted after a moment. "I like the way they smell. I think they're beautiful."

"Ah, and you do have a weakness for beautiful things. I do remember that." He gestured to her with his pencil and a smile. "Gardenias, that's lovely."

"I like the pomegranate blossoms as well. They are just so starkly different from all the other fruit trees we have. The deep red of the petals in the late summer and fall just feels so incredibly passionate to me. A lust for life in those flowers, and they bloom so much later than the others. I admire them greatly." Her eyes studied a tree that did not bear flowers currently and Kurama could only guess it was the object of her adoration. "Pomegranates are one of my favorite fruits as well."

"Interesting. In Ancient Greece the pomegranate was known as the fruit of the dead, sprung from the blood of Adonis. I'm sure you're familiar with the myth of Persephone." Kurama gestured loosely with the pencil in his hand.

"Of course. That is a common understanding of the fruit, but did you know that in Ancient Egypt it was a fruit used in medicines? And it held the symbolism of prosperity and ambition." She raised her eyebrows. "It has a long, diverse history."

"Is that what you like about it?" He tilted his head in curiosity. "The symbolism and history?"

"No. I just always thought they were pretty and tasted good. When I was eleven I decided they were my favorite and it's been hard to change my mind since." Amon-Shinpi offered a shrug and a smile that finally felt looser and more sincere. "Is this really helpful to you? I don't think anyone has asked me my favorite anything since I was probably ten."

"And yet at eleven you decided on your favorite fruit." He smiled too. "It is helpful to me."

"How?" She scanned him again.

"Trade secret, regretfully." He shook his head. Opening his mouth to ask another question, he was promptly interrupted.

"You've been out here for hours, you need to drink something Hichi." A soft voice pestered gently, bringing attention to a young woman with a tray of drinks. She stopped and allowed her attention to pass over Kurama, gold eyes making a quick study of him before moving to the redhead on her knees in the dirt and grass. With a brilliant smile she set the tray down on a nearby lawn table with a glass top, safely tucked in the shake of a towering tree. "Thirsty?"

"You didn't have to come out." Amon-Shinpi rose and wiped her gloves on her pants before removing them. "I'm in the middle of an interview."

"Yes, I know. Hai told me you had a special guest. I thought I'd come out and see him for myself." The woman turned a sly look to her sister. "Unless you want me to go back inside?"

"It might be for the best." She pressed lightly, walking over to procure a glass of what looked to be lemonade.

"You must be Mr. Minamino, my sister is an ardent admirer of your works." The woman stepped around Amon-Shinpi to offer her hand to him to shake. "I'm the other sister, Kuya. I hope she's behaving herself."

"Yes, she's mentioned that." Kurama gestured to the device on the ground. "It's nice to meet you. I should warn you, I'm recording right now."

"And drawing." She tapped his notebook. "A nice depiction of the gardens. You have a talent in art."

"A skill developed from necessity." He assured her kindly. "I wasn't aware anyone else would be here."

"Why wouldn't we be? It's our home." She turned to her sister with a particular look that demanded to know what was being said when she wasn't around. "I don't plan on interrupting long, it's just that my sister has been toiling away out here since morning. I needed to make sure she wasn't dying of dehydration."

"It is rather warm." He commented, glad to be in the shade. Reaching for a drink he smiled. "May I?"

"Please, yes." Kuya nodded earnestly which caused her sister to huff. "What sort of things have you two been talking about?"

"I don't mean to be rude, but I would prefer if we didn't discuss the details of the interview. I'm sorry." Kurama offered the apology with heartfelt sentiment. "It's imperative to me to keep the confidence and trust of those I'm writing about."

"That's refreshing." Kuya turned to Amon-Shinpi with eyebrows raised. "The last man I asked that told me everything. Well, I hope you're not sharing too many secrets Hichi. I'll be inside if you need me."

Kurama pulled his brows down as he shot looks between the twins, noting their similarities and their differences. They, at first glance, were nearly identical. In fact he was nearly positive if he caught them from behind he'd mistake one for the other. Yet upon closer inspection they were starkly different and it wasn't merely the eye color that gave them away. Posture was another indicator. Amon-Shinpi stood with her feet squared, chin level if not slightly raised. Kuya's body was more open, head inclined. She had softer arms and a more shapely waist.

Kuya dipped her head toward her sister and spoke in a quiet voice he couldn't hear.

"He's fine. We'll be done soon anyway. Thanks for the lemonade." Amon-Shinpi lifted her glass in salute.

When Kuya turned and left, her sister chugged the rest of her drink and set the ice-filled glass back on the tray.

"You needn't rush on my account." Kurama expressed. "We have time."

Her eyes roved down him and she pursed her lips, hands moving to her hips. "You're sweating."

"It's warm." He reminded her.

"Suit yourself." She shrugged and went back to her spot to continue digging out weeds and filling the spaces with seedlings. "Next question?"

Kurama hid his sigh well before leaving the sanctity of the shadows so he could hear her better and be heard on the recorder. With a glance he assured himself that it was in fact still operating, she hadn't tampered with it in the few minutes it took him to join her.

"We'll consider your sister's arrival off the record." He told her easily, getting back to doing his sketches of the scene.

That piqued her interest, as she lifted her head. "That's awfully considerate."

"Not quite. I'm not writing about her so her interruption doesn't hold much interest to me. You're the topic I'm focused on, Ms. Takani. It's easiest for me to work if I keep to that premise."

"She's right, that is refreshing."

"Hmm?"

"Nothing." Amon-Shinpi smiled to herself, going back to her work. "That wasn't a question, it was a statement."

"Tell me more about your tutoring program. What brought it on, where are you planning on going?" He watched her relax some and he bid his time, let the recorder do its work as he took his personal notes in the margins around his sketches. He flipped a page as she spoke and focused on her entirely.

The shapes of Amon-Shinpi in her sunhat, on her knees, working the flowers and weeds were easy to form. He didn't add details, just the outlines as she spoke. It would help him remember later.

She explained that she had been approached about the plight of some students from someone close to the source. Another concerned student, she claimed. Based on conversations she'd formed a plan that went in stages. He knew all of this already because he'd read the newspaper the morning after her benefit. She wasn't describing anything new.

Their interview continued, softball questions to get her talking and then one or two more interesting, diving, inquisitions to add substance to his notes. The hour passed before he was ready to let it go and the chiming on Amon-Shinpi's phone to indicate the end of their time together found the two of them sitting in the grass, her with dirty gloves and him stripped of his jacket so he could comfortably speak and not overheat.

"That's it." She told him. "The end of the line, Mr. Minamino. I think you'll find I've been substantially more cooperative this time. Hopefully you've found enough to make it worth your while."

"Hopefully." He agreed. "Either way, you've done your part. I appreciate you meeting with me a second time, Ms. Takani."

"Don't call my father again."

"I'll see myself out."