December 1, 2008
Monday
9p

The Luxurious Malanastre Theatre in London.  The Malanastre is small but dripping with gold, velvets and diamonds.  Every surface, wood or stone, is intricately carved.  The main feature of this establishment is a theatre, but there is a restaurant and small private parlors as well.  It is Monday night and the main stage is quiet.  Daily Prophet Niobe Thursby waits in an balcony box in the theatre for the subject of her interview. 

The enigmatic Koujirou Nakamura.

The dreadlocked witch of 33 has tried to dress for the occasion, but didn't shoot for the stars.  She short-cropped green robes and billowing trousers tucked into knee-high boots.  Her dreadlocks were piled on top of her head.  Sitting alone waiting for her interviewee, however, she far from looked the part of a high society heiress.  She was a reporter and never one to put on airs.  Her boots were up on the railing, and she was picking at her nails with her quill.  She was a little star-struck to be interviewing someone as wealthy and influential as Nakamura, but she was a professional.  He was just  a wizard.

A very important wizard.  So important, in fact, that he was the baby of both the philanthropists and the Ministry of Magic, who had him on watch.  Level 2. The rumors about the impossibly young Nakamura being two-faced where too juicy to resist.  He'd been hard to nail down, but her editor had finally been able to convince him to give an interview and Niobe had been ravenous about it.

Normally, Niobe tried to leave the celebrity fluff peices to Rita Skeeter, but even the rumors of danger had been enough to entice Niobe Thursby who could never leave well enough alone.  She'd nearly lost her life to ex-lover Cinaed Tawse when she'd pressed him too far into a corner.  And her rekindling of romances with the brutish, violent Dominik Wiedman did not reflect well on her prudence.  Interviewing Koujirou Nakamura with the full intent to weedle into the allegations of misbehavior was just another in a long line of uncalcuated risks.

She turned her hand to look at her nails.  Her left hand had only four fingers, her ring finger severed near the base.  More evidence of her misplaced guts for glory.  She curled her hand into a fist and ran her thumb over the stump.  But this thing with Nakamura - she had this under control. Not like the Runespoors.

But she jumped like a jackrabbit when the door handle turned, springing to her feet.

"Mr. Nakamura?" she asked to the dim light.

“That’s what some call me....”

Came the reply to Niobe’s question and through the dim light emerged none other than Koujirou Nakamura.  An enigma of sorts he had been out and about the past couple of weeks which was odd because he rarely stepped his foot out the door. He had always preferred to do things behind a veil of secrecy and so far his decision to put himself out there had been a bad one.  The terrible night at the Knockturn Alley Business meeting had knocked him slightly, not his confidence but his belief in those who he had believed like minded.  Still today was not a time to brood on past meetings and shady dealings, he had his public image to uphold.  As of now his donations to worthy causes seemed to be doing the trick but for some reason people wanted more.  The ministry had begun to cast a shady eye over him and there were rumours floating around, the fact that they were true did not make it any less of an annoyance.

Still, no need to worry, he could do things himself, Koujirou Nakamura did not need Cinaed to fuel trouble, mindless puppets were in abundance, in fact, Koujirou was just about to use one of them to upkeep his public image.  He would not admit it to Kazuya but he had begun to grow tired of the good guy exterior and as for the donations, every golden coin that exited his pocket seemed to scar him.  Although it caused him great pain to do so, Koujirou smiled at the reporter, whose name he did no know, nor did he care to learn it.  She would understand, after all he was a god, she a lowly worker, a slave to the grind.  It had not escaped Koujirou that she had probably deliberately chosen this location to conduct their interview in an attempt to relax him, get a little bit more information out of him.  Perhaps she would get a little more than she bargained for, who knew?  Moving towards her their eyes met for a brief second before Koujirou leant over to kiss the side of her cheek.  Greetings formally done and dusted he took the seat next to her, crossing his legs as he attempted to portray a cool demeanour.  His first impressions of the woman were not good, she looked like she had been dragged backwards through a hedge, not the look he would have chosen had he been meeting someone of his grandness.  It was actually rather disrespectful, that she felt she could be herself around him, she should have been racked with nerves but that seemed not to be the case.  On the contrary that seemed to be the case more often than not nowadays, he was actually becoming rather depressed over everyone’s lack of respect.

Sitting down, ready to divulge a string of lies, Koujirou did not quite feel himself, he felt, like perhaps he might tell the truth today.  That he utterly despised this country and everyone in it.  That he wished for nothing more than its utter destruction, the death of the upper, middle and working class societies.  These British, they did not appreciate life, or their ancestors, they went about their business in a crude fashion which he just could not get used to.  Better to use the land space for those who deserved it, for those who could appreciate the beauty of nature.  Stroking his cleanly shaven chin his eyes fell across the empty seats and stage before him.  How he would have much preferred this to have been a night at the theatre, instead he was stuck here with a reporter.  Believing that he may have been making the reporter suspicious with his silence he turned his head to the side, his eyes meeting hers once more before he spoke calmly:

“I hope you have a good writing hand, I feel like tonight is going to be one of the most productive nights of your career.  Call it an early Christmas present, what do you wish to know?  I know that your readers and you are oh so interested in my type so let’s work together to give them something, truly beautiful to read tomorrow.....”

Although Koujirou smiled there seemed to be coldness behind it and even as a beautiful fragrance emanated from the well dressed wizard there seemed to be deceit in the air.  Nakamura had as usual spent a while on his appearance, garbed in fine black silk dress robes; they complimented his dark eyes and hair.  His white shirt was buttoned high and his black tie looked uncomfortably tight around his neck.  A long golden chain hung from his breast pocket, though what it was attached to was buried away.  Rather uncharacteristically Koujirou seemed a little fidgety, turning something over and over again in his left hand.  It was a good luck charm, though its magical properties had long since worn off.  Smiling at the reporter he spoke softly:

“Where would you like to start?”

Gods, he was impressive.  Niobe had never seen Nakamura in person, only in a few photographs.  But the arrogance he emitted could only be felt first hand.  He was dressed amazingly and his bored, polite perfect manners just dripped with money and betterness.  She accepted his greeting kiss and sat back down, crossing one leg over the other. 

Gods, he was something wasn't he? Ten years younger than she was, and the richest person she'd ever heard of.  His arrogance, his self-control - it all pointed to an interview that promised to be challenging.  And it also rang clearly of a man who could very well live up to the danger that the rumors described. 

"My name is Niobe Thursby and this," she indicated her fluffy black quill, "is a Verbatis."

She touched the tip to a pad of paper on her thigh and when she let go, it stood on its own, quivvering.  Ready to sop up and scribble down every erm, ah, word and breath either of them uttered.  Other reporters preferred quills with some sort of filter, the ones that focused on noting the important information.  Some reporters even used quills that added journalistic style, making quotations print-ready from the get go.  Not Niobe Thursby.  Thursby wanted every little nuance down, every utterance committed to her sacred notes so that she knew she'd have full context, the whole truth when writing her article. 

"He's a clever quill and will be doing the grunt work."

He looked bored already, and behaved like he was giving her a gift. Flattering himself. Perhaps he didn't read much.  Or underestimated the power of the press.  The interview would be doing them both some good and it was ultimately Niobe who got to decide how the scales tipped. 

Nonetheless, he was a magnificent white peacock and she couldn't help but smile.

"I'd like to start with the check you recently dropped to the Remus Lupin Resource Library at the Werewolf Registry.  Fact or fiction?  I can't say it's always the most popular move to support werewolf issues.  So polarizing.  Even the Minister of Magic's new initiatives aren't smoothing over public opinion.  It was an anonymous donor, but I can't help but wonder if it was you."

When she introduced herself he flashed her a small smile, similarly when the type of pen she was using was revealed he nodded in its direction.  It was not his favourite type of pen, it would note down his every move, scrutinize every noise that came out of his mouth.  Still, he was Koujirou Nakamura, he could outsmart any being, human or magical object, it mattered not to him.  Straightening his robes he prepared himself for her first question whilst still portraying a composed demeanour.  After a few seconds it came, her mouth formulating the words before allowing them to roll of her tongue and like that, the game had begun.  Both the pen and Koujirou stared at each other for a moment before the former made his move, smiling he spoke.  His voice portrayed his inner confidence, indeed he sounded rather happy with this line of questioning.  Of course it had not been Koujirou who made the donation; it was the work of Kazuya, his truth teller.  Nakamura always trusted Kazuya with public relations; it was he that chose where the money went and it was Koujirou who footed the bills.  Werewolves hmmm?  What the hell was Kazuya thinking?  Koujirou despised magical creatures; they were ridiculously unclean and far below him.  Still the public, fickle as they were, loved to see a powerful figure embrace lesser beings, even if it was these lesser creatures they blamed for any misgivings:

“You and your readers Niobe, they never miss a trick do they?  Even when it comes down to a friendly anonymous donation they always need to find out where it came from.  Its your job I guess but yes, I shall stick my neck out there and say that it was I who dropped them some funds and I shall tell you why Ms Thursby.  For too long these poor, innocent beings have been trampled underfoot.  Now, I will not pretend to understand these creatures but I am of the belief that all species have their share of good and bad.  Remus Lupin’s Resource Library seems to want to help those who have retained their human qualities and I, being a successful business man, simply wish to help in any way possible.  I can’t help through mental means so I did so through material ones.  I don’t care what the ministry think and I would like it to be known that I would be willing to help anyone who wished to do some good at least once.  Be it providing funds to help muggle born’s into magical education, providing funds for setting up oversees scholarships for less fortunate pure blooded families than myself or even helping an ex convict back into the world of, honest, hard work.  The ministry can scoff at me for seeing well in everyone and everything but I really don’t care Niobe, I just want to be remembered, for all the right reasons when I am gone from this planet....”

It was a poetic speech, riddled with lies but it seemed almost beautiful.  Koujirou’s ulterior ego had shone through and he was in full swing now, leaning forward in his seat waving his hands around to emphasize important points and nodding in agreement to almost everything he said.  If he really did mean anything he had just said Koujirou would probably have been the nicest person to grace the world, the fact of the matter was however that every praise and good word that rolled of his tongue felt like acid in his mouth.  His money was his own and for as long as he lived he would use it to orchestrate evil and garb himself in the finest things money could buy.  Koujirou was highly trained when it came to getting in peoples heads and he had been extremely careful to hold eye contact with the reporter, using her name every now and again to build up a personal relationship between them.  She was being sucked into his world, led down the golden path to Eden, he promised a life of happiness but at the end of the path there was nothing but misery.  His nose twitched slightly as he thought about what he had just said, a giveaway into his inner feelings but as soon as it had appeared it was gone.  Instead what took its place was another fake smile before more words flowed from a well trained, well spoken mouth:

“Of course my ideas are not shared by everyone Niobe, only a couple of weeks ago I tried to offer a committee based in Knockturn Alley some financial aid in order to turn their backwater society around but they seemed to have taken a disliking to civilised folks.  So all those charities out there who could use twenty thousand golden galleons, keep your fingers crossed because it could be coming your way.  I think I would like to donate to something that helps our younger generation next Ms Thursby.  I believe children are the future and we of Asian descent regard our younglings as sacred, the idea that any potential wizard slips through our societies net, simply because we haven’t the means to find all our own because some are muggle born is ridiculous.  We of magical ability should all at least be given the chance to learn our ancestor’s gift.....”

Stopping short there he decided not to overdo the niceties, he had felt it necessary to mention his visit into Knockturn in case anyone had seen him there and wondered.  Plus, it was always nice to get a dig into those people whom he now had so much hatred for.  Cinaed Tawse, Theadora Kingstreet and that beautiful canary, they would all be made to pay in due course but for now, he had to remain calm and composed:

“Have I sufficiently answered your question Ms Thursby?  Or is there anything you need clarification on?”

The young handsome man was charming and he weaved a tale of such generosity and sincerity that Niobe Thursby couldn't help but raise her eyebrows, smile and nod.  She agreed whole-heartedly that werewolves and muggleborns needed a leg up in a nasty world.  She had personal reasons for feeling less sympathetic towards ex-Azzies who were doing much better than she was thank you very much, owning their own pubs and growing their own beards.   Oh Nakamura was far from humble.  He waxed on with vain glory about his many causes and the golden path that bricked itself up behind him as he strolled through the streets.

The Verbatis quill was recording every word, but it couldn't capture Nakamura's animated passion.  Niobe smiled again, this time for her own benefit.  Rita Skeeter would have shaved off her eyebrows for a chance to sit across from this specimen.  This creature of gold and gilted hearts.  He was poised and practiced, lofty and animated.

And so he was probably either completely insane.  Or completely full of shit. 

But it didn't matter.  Whether he was one or the other, he'd put his gold where his mouth was.  And he was spilling his guts.  And Niobe Thursby had the exclusive. 

And even while taken by his charm and effusive philantrophy, she sensed she was being played - that they all were being played, all of Wizarding Britain.  And that just made this encounter all the more exciting.

When he concluded his response, Niobe smiled again and looked very satisfied.  She took up the notebook and skimmed it, giving the Verbatis quill a rest.  When she set it back down she clicked her tongue, shook her head and grinned.

"You are really something, Mr. Nakamura.  I daresay we'd like to have more of you and your gold in this world.  Someone like you has so much and so much to lose depending on the tide of public opinion.  Risky business, charity."

She nodded a few more times, peering at him, still smiling.  This was fun.  This was a game.  She cocked her head.

"Risky business indeed.  So practiced a hand at it though.  And what - only twenty five years old are you? Instructed by, maybe inspired by your parents? A mentor? An old professor?  Where does an enterprising lad like you find the motivation and wisdom to be so giving?"