nepleutpas | ( musebox )

Japan wasn't exactly her first choice to live, and writing stories about politics wasn't really her forte, but a job was a job. She'd worked hard to get where she did, and Iris had to admit that it was a great honor to be given the opportunity to report overseas. It didn't hurt that her sister, whom she hadn't seen in years, was living in Japan with her husband and cute little daughter.

Still... there were so many more interesting things happening back "home" in Central City. Because, despite having lived in this place for a year now, and having made a name of herself as a reporter, Iris still didn't consider it home.

Her head shot up at the sound of the huge glass doors opening. Just the man she'd been waiting for...

"Excuse me!" She may not look Japanese, but at least she'd picked up the language quickly. "Takatori-san!"

After twenty years of it, Mamoru was well accustomed to being surrounded by reporters and cameras. He knew to walk with confidence and poise, and to always have a smile ready. He knew how to dodge undesired questions and how to work a crowd to his advantage. And, more than anything, he knew that there was no more likely time to meet a reporter than when election season rolled around... especially after a press conference was scheduled.

He was ready, then, when he walked into his office building and immediately heard the call and scuttle of one such reporter. Iris West was a relative newcomer, but she was talented. Easy to look at, too, a quality that only helped anyone in the public eye.

He politely paused in his walk rather than seek to escape into the elevator and eventually his office. A man who ran from reporters was a man with something to hide. Mamoru tried to avoid that appearance as much as possible.

"Good afternoon, Ms. West. You're looking well."

Mamoru was polite, attractive, and relatively young for a politician. He knew how to charm his audience, but Iris wasn't about to let him distract her from her point.

She flashed him a warm smile -- just enough to ease him -- before plowing ahead. "Elections are coming up."

Waiting. She wanted to see how he'd respond. If he'd resist, or if he knew by now that there really was no escaping Iris West.

"So they are," Mamoru voiced with a returned smile, as though he had simply been so busy governing he had not noticed all of the ads and pundit speculations. Oh, he knew what this would be about, no question. Every reporter was eager for the status and career boost that the breaking of a new story before all the other reporters would earn. He didn't fault them for working extra hard considering. But that didn't mean he was about to make it easy. There were reasons for keeping major announcements until the official press conference. More news sources equaled a bigger audience.

She'd done some digging of her own. Perhaps even attempted to make a few friends that worked with him. But she still hadn't been able to get a scoop. Mamoru was good, Iris had to give him that one.

But she was good as well.

"Did you hear? There have been rumors floating around that Fujikawa is intent on running for your position." She may have been behind the start of that rumor. Though, really, everyone knew Fujikawa had been eyeing that position for quite some time. So it wasn't much of a rumor. The only question was, would that position be available any time soon? Was he planning on holding his space, or moving on to something greater?

Mamoru lifted an eyebrow and chuckled sheepishly. "I'm afraid I hadn't heard that. Is there a mutiny brewing, Ms. West? It sounds like I should be worried."

Fujikawa had been a contender within the party some time ago, and of course private meetings were discussing the strategical merit in placing him in the candidacy once it became vacant. But those talks were no more public yet than his decision to seek higher office, which made them off-limits for discussion as well. Iris had already started the conversation down that path, meaning he would need to proceed with extra caution if he was going to avoid flashing any of his party's hand.

"Should you?" She taps a perfectly manicured finger against her chin. "Obviously, they're just unconfirmed rumors," and here, Iris lowers her voice just a little, to keep the conversation 'just between the two of them.' "But rumors always have some basis, don't they? Everyone gossips these days."

It's true she may have had a drink or two with one of the interns working for Mamoru. And neither of them had exactly been secretive about that. She'd agreed to drinks in hopes to dig for information, and he'd agreed in hopes she'd go home with him that night. Neither of them, unfortunately, got their wish. He'd been a little too much of a skeeve to talk about anything other than himself, and quite obviously not her type.

It'd been a long stretch, in any case. An intern probably would never even get to meet the man in office. He probably just fetched coffees and made copies. Still, she wondered if she could use that as leverage. Pretend she had more details than she actually did.

"Some more than others," Mamoru pointed out with a smile. That might be referring to journalists, and it might be a suggestion that some relied on it a bit too much.

"I confess, I have no information that would give cause for me to be concerned. If my colleagues are displeased with my performance, I'm sure they will find an appropriate way of letting me know. Would you excuse me, Ms. West?"

If he could slip off with no more than that, he'll have done well.

She wouldn't let that happen. Thankfully, it doesn't take much more than a simple step to get between him and the elevators. She's small, so she doesn't come off as threatening, but she stands her ground, and she gives off an aura of confidence.

"If you don't mind my asking," she's sure he does, in fact, mind. But it isn't much of her concern. It's all just formalities, really. "How does such an influential and famous man manage to remain so private?" She's done her research, and the media was strangely quiet about Takatori Mamoru.

Perhaps the tabloids here in Japan didn't work the same way as those back in America. Iris had no interest in baseless rumors or idle gossip, but that didn't mean she didn't expect them to come out, regardless.

Mamoru was not particularly large himself, but he took Iris's spontaneous blockade with stride. Not so easy, then. Well, it had been worth a try. He responded with a quiet, good-natured laugh.

"You give me too much credit, Ms. West. I'm not nearly that famous... and certainly not interesting enough to garner the attention of gossip columnists."

She expected such an answer. Though she didn't expect him to be quite as humble or easy-going about all of this. She had to admit, there was a small degree of growing admiration for the man.

"Anything garners attention with gossip columnists where I'm from," from the tone of her voice, it was clear that this was not something Iris personally endorsed. "But I'd have expected the people to want to know a little bit more about the man in charge of, well, their lives. To an extent."

Mamoru smiled kindly. "Now you truly overcredit me. I'm one of many, working collectively to make people's lives better. Unobtrusively, if done right." Granted that he was one of the most influential figures in that collective, but there was no falseness in his modesty, nor in the note of concern in his voice as he redirected the conversation.

"It almost sounds like you speak from some personal experience with these columnists. Do they come after star reporters as well?" Mamoru could imagine all too well the sort of fictional 'news' that might feature a young, good-looking woman, especially a single one. He had seen for himself the humiliation and harassment female journalists often faced from off-stage hecklers while trying to report in public. Perhaps it was different for reporters who worked in print. Mamoru hoped so.

His question distracted her for a moment. She'd managed to gain a certain amount of status here in just one year, though Iris suspected most of it was due simply to the fact that she was The American reporting Japanese news. But she was still a newbie in the eyes of Japanese journalism, refreshing occasionally, but nothing important or particularly interesting.

Back in Central City, however, she'd been the best there was. She'd built herself a career, and that came with a price. Other reporters played dirty, but Iris never allowed herself to sink to that level. Unfortunately, that didn't mean she'd come out squeaky clean. When they couldn't be the first on the scene, other reporters would often be the first to dig up dirt on her. Or simply make it up.

She'd become some sort of celebrity overnight.

"The population has a right to know what is going on around them." She became a reporter to help people. "How can their lives be made better if they don't know how to speak up, or who to speak to?" She relaxed into a smile. It must be frustrating to deal with reporters showing up and trying to get information. Frustrating, but it was her job. She didn't care about his personal life, but if Mamoru did decide to run, that was something the public had a right to know about. "Everything else is just..." Iris paused, trying to find the right Japanese word to sum up her thoughts regarding idle gossip. "...irrelevant." Not quite the word she'd have hoped for, but the only one that was popping up in her mental dictionary at the moment.

"Their lives can be made better by voting for the politicians that truly want that for their constituents. Most of my youth was spent under humbling conditions. I haven't forgotten what it's like to live like that. And while we rely on reporters like you to get the message of what we really stand for to the public, at this point in time, I have no message to send out-- except to please accept my invitation to attend the press conference scheduled for this Friday afternoon. Thank you, Ms. West."

Then, deft as could be, he sidestepped Iris and slipped into the elevator.

She'd stopped by Koneko on her way here, but it had been so crowded that, even for someone as pushy as Ouka, it'd been hard to squeeze in. She'd passed by the shop before, but had never really had any use for flowers, so had never actually gone inside. But it was hard not to at least notice the shop, what with the high-pitched fangirl screeching that came from it every day. As far as she could tell, there were four people who worked there: two girls and two guys. All of them attractive, maybe a little older than her.

But that was really all Ouka knew -- or really cared to know -- about the store.

That was, until yesterday. She'd stopped by to bring Papa some papers he'd left at home, and as she was walking out, nearly ran into one of the boys who worked at Koneko. He'd struck up a conversation, and for the first time in her life, Ouka was actually left a little... dazed. Before they parted, he gave her one of the flowers in the bouquet he was delivering.

Ouka had no doubt she could stand out in a crowd, but she also didn't feel the need to squeeze through a throng of clingy girls. Still, she'd spent all day at school thinking about that conversation and the flower that was now sitting on her desk at home. And as last bell rang, she came up with, what was quite possibly her best idea yet: Papa attended a lot of events and parties that required flowers. Why walk in and purchase one bouquet of flowers when she could purchase half the store?

And here she was, perched atop Mamoru Takatori's office desk, legs impatiently swinging back and forth. His secretary had said he was on his way up... what was taking Papa so long?

After parting ways with Iris, Mamoru quickly found the door to the service stairs, as they were less crowded than the main ones and the elevators. He climbed four floors and traveled a few halls to get to his office without meeting anyone else along the way. He felt assured, on placing his hand on the doorknob, that the rest of the afternoon would progress rather normally.

Of course, he was right. He simply failed to factor in that normalcy meant a life full of surprises because That's What Children Do. There, sitting atop his desk like it was her throne, was his princess: a now-teenaged daughter who had been so aptly named it was positively eerie.

Mamoru faltered at the door, blinking as he took in the sight of her and combed through recent events and conversations for a logical reason. Naturally, experience had long taught him children did not need logic for anything, and in fact actively defied it more often than not. Even so, he was a man that tried to anticipate to the best of his ability.

Coming up with nothing, he surrendered to the reality and shut the door behind him. "This is a surprise. What's happened?"

Edited 2014-12-10 01:57 (UTC)

There he was. Took him long enough.

The moment she registers that Papa had walked through the door, Ouka excitedly pushed herself off the desk and rushed toward him. "Papa!" Excitement and flattery go a long way.

Not that she wasn't always excited to see him, but this particular situation required just a hint more than usual. She looped her arms around one of his and ~~shoved~~ lead him toward his chair.

"Have you heard of a shop called Koneko?" Straight to the point. Because, really, what was the point of wasting time?

Mamoru was not so perplexed by his daughter's appearance as to be immune to her excitement and charm. Something about the way she smiled melted him every time. He was smiling back before she reached him, and extended his arm to welcome her into the hug he thought she was coming for-- how little he knew! Instead she had a hold of it so that she could properly usher him straight to his chair, as though it were surely the only way he would ever find it a whole seven steps away.

His confusion only grew as Ouka mentioned the one shop he never wanted to hear her say. Loro Piana would have been preferable to Koneko. Why did she even want to know, and how could he steer her away from it?

"I've heard of it," he ventured guardedly. "What about it?"

Oh good, he'd heard of it. If Papa approved of the place, it must be somewhere worth investigating more into. Not that he'd said exactly that he approved (because 'heard of' and 'approve' are two completely different concepts) but sometimes, selective hearing comes into play.

"W-ell..." Now that he's seated at his chair, Ouka perches herself on his desk once more. It gives her a bit more of an advantage to be at almost eye-level with him, and she really does enjoy dangling her feet off something.

"I was thinking, you should get more flowers to liven up the office. And maybe home, too."

Mamoru raised an eyebrow at that proposition. If Ouka wanted more flowers, that could easily be arranged. The thing was that Mamoru knew better than to think this was about getting flowers. She had given herself away off the bat. This was not about floral decorations so much as it was getting them from this specific shop. For now, though, he played along.

"Do you? I suppose I can look into it. But why do you think they're needed? An office isn't meant to be lively, you know."

She may be direct and upfront most of the time, but Ouka has been in the business of Asking Papa For Things long enough to know that sometimes it's better to wheedle her way into a conversation first.

This was a time for wheedling. Mostly because of the topic... she couldn't just straight up tell Papa about her interest in a guy. No, she was fairly certain things wouldn't quite work out the way she wanted them to if she opened with that.

"Well, you want people to like you, don't you?" Still, being abrupt and not thinking through her words carefully is still a signature Ouka trait... "Flowers would make the place more welcoming."

A pause. Just enough for effect, but not enough to give him a chance to respond.

"And you throw a lot of parties, don't you?" Though, the way she'd said the word 'parties' made them sound far more trivial and silly than what they actually were. "Could you use Koneko for your parties from now on?" Did he already? She'd never taken the time to really check... but if he didn't, it surely needed to be something to happen.

Soon.

Mamoru tried to keep his amusement to himself. Kids rarely appreciated the idea that adults found them funny unless they were trying to be. Ouka said some of the most outrageous things. She and Hinata both had work left to do in the tact department, but that was what growing up was for.

(Really, he wasn't very concerned about not being liked enough without flowers. He did very well in elections as it was.)

In truth, he naturally did buy flowers from his own business when the occasion arose, but that didn't mean he wanted Ouka anywhere near that place. He waited out her appeal and decided the charade had probably gone on long enough. Time to trap her in her own words. Sorry, sweetie, but your manipulation tactics are still a little too overt. ~~watch and learn from the master~~

He sent her a conciliatory smile. "Well, if it means that much to you, I can look into more flowers. But there's a much closer shop in block 14, and I think it has a bigger selection. Will you help me look there? You have a better eye for aesthetics than I do."

"H-huh...?"

There was a moment of stunned silence as Ouka processed his suggestion. Well. That didn't exactly go as planned.

"But..." She'd made this whole thing about the flowers and not the shop itself. And after a moment of thinking everything over, she couldn't exactly figure out a good counterargument to Mamoru's suggestion.

"But I like Koneko." So she didn't provide one. The light, but very much detectable whine in her voice should be enough to at least buy her a minute or so more to completely rethink her strategy.

Uh huh. That was exactly what Mamoru thought, and exactly what he feared. Koneko still had its reputation among schoolkids, though with the more... diverse staffing, it wasn't limited to the girls anymore. Dinah, in particular, had an impressive following, though the male admirers didn't flock and generate buzz the same way the female ones did.

But Ouka was not allowed to be one of them, and he planned to make sure she knew that right away.

So at the baseless protest, Mamoru arched an eyebrow and asked, with perfect cluelessness, "Why?"

Hair pulled tight in a high bun, Hinata wound up and tossed to work on her five-turn. Most of her classmates were on three-turns, and a few on four, but one of the perks of having a rich dad was getting the best private instructor money could buy. And she practiced-- a lot-- even on days the club didn't meet.

Most practices were in the school gymnasium, where the high ceiling, smooth floor, and large, open court accommodated tosses, spins and running tricks without having to be outside in bad weather. Of course, sometimes the teacher held it outside in bad weather on purpose: for practice tossing to compensate for the wind, or catching in the rain, which slickened the metal shaft with water. For today, though, they were inside.

She noticed a girl she didn't recognize, though she was reluctant to introduce herself. Both of her parents were really good at talking to people. Hinata, however, was not. It seemed like every time she tried, something went wrong. She tripped up her words, or she put her foot in her mouth, or the other person said something that she simply didn't know how to respond to, and so ended up being awkwardly silent.

Sometimes, she wished she had her sister's confidence. Ouka seemed like her polar opposite in personality. She occasionally said things that Hinata would be horrified to have come out of her own mouth, yet Ouka never missed a beat. Hinata didn't know how she did it.

One thing was for sure, though: she didn't do it by avoiding people.

With that in mind, against her more natural tendencies, Hinata mustered some courage and approached the new girl.

"I don't think I've seen you before. Did you just transfer?"

Changing schools half way through the year wasn't easy, but sometimes it had to be done. Clow Reed was a very busy man who was often away on business, but he'd moved Touya and Sakura here on the hopes that he would be able to be around a little bit more. For someone as friendly and outgoing as Sakura, being new to a school wasn't too difficult a task.

She'd wanted to join at least one new club, but there were so many choices to make that she'd decided to check out a few before committing to one. She'd never done... whatever this was called... before. But it looked interesting. There was one girl in particular who seemed to be far better practiced than the rest.

.... Oh! She hadn't realized she was staring until the girl noticed her and began walking her way.

"Ah! Hi!" Could this be her first friend? "Tomorrow will be my first official day, actually. But I wanted to take a look at some of the clubs, first."

"You're really good with the..." and here she pauses, and makes a twirling motion with her hands. "... the stick!"

She was friendly, and her voice sounded really nice, like the sort of girl you might expect to hand out goodies to the entire class, not just a couple of close friends and her secret crush. Hinata liked her already.

That liking only grew with the compliment that sent a bit of color to her cheeks. "Thank you!" She beamed, and caught herself a moment later. "I mean," she sheepishly added. "I'm not that good..." That was the polite way to reply, wasn't it? The non-egomaniac way. But oh, baton she could talk about. And new girl sounded like she might be interested in trying.

"Baton. It's really fun. Do you want to try? It takes a lot of practice, but..." She offered the baton, then realized she should probably introduce herself.

"Ah-- I'm Hinata."

( musebox )

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