Yousei/Youkai

A broad grin was plastered across the face of Orihara Izaya, like a child who had received a new toy to play with. That comparison was fairly accurate, except that in his hands was not a toy, but the possible catalyst for a war that could ravage Ikebukuro.

Still smiling, he leaned back in his office chair and lifted his prize to eye level. Izaya had never really composed an image of what the thought the Dullahan's head would look like; it wasn't even until recently that he had even been certain of its existence. Sure, a little snatch of conversation here, a forum post there; all of it was hearsay, though. Rumors were unreliable, more likely to be mischievous than informative. He of all people knew that well. But in front of him was something concrete and undeniably real, and, underneath his palms, slightly warm.

If not for that warmth, he would've thought the head to be a clever amalgam of materials synthetic and organic. The features seemed almost too perfect, like something from the imagination of a babbling poet. A vaguely curious expression came over Izaya's face as he brushed his fingers down the delicate nose, across the cheekbones, then along the jaw line. With one thumb he gently lifted one of the eyelids, revealing the pale blue-green iris beneath. He probed the flesh of the cheeks, then pressed on both sides of the jaw with his thumb and forefinger, causing its mouth to open slightly. There were twenty-eight teeth (apparently Dullahans couldn't be bothered with wisdom teeth), and surprisingly no cavities or imperfection otherwise (weren't faeries supposed to like sweets?). He let the mouth close and absently ran his thumb over the lips, which were neither too thin, nor too plump.

The entire process was almost entirely investigatory—almost. The head (her head), while not entirely alive, couldn't be considered dead either, nor was it (she?) exactly unconscious. It was this haziness that sent a small chill up Izaya's spine, which he quickly dismissed. He continued his examination by turning the head over in his hands to scrutinize where the neck had been severed. Rather than finding flesh, he observed a black, shadowy substance under the skin. It belied neither warmth nor cold, and while not solid, seemed to prevent him from extending his fingers more than a centimeter in. He mentally compared it to the smoke he had seen pouring from Celty's neck earlier, and then remembered that he had most definitely seen blood on the scalpel Namie's brother had wielded.

With one hand loosely gripping the back of the Dullahan's neck, he fished in his pocket for his knife. Upon finding it, he brought out the blade and eyed it for a moment before deftly nicking the skin across the cheekbone. The wound bled momentarily, then closed seamlessly as if metal had never met flesh. The blood still remained, though; Izaya absently wiped it off with his thumb before setting the head on the desk next to its tank.

As he considered the head before him, Izaya brought up a mental image of the leather-clad cyclist who never showed her face. He knew that the two belonged together, but somehow he couldn't combine the thing so much like a living doll with the animated, if silent, Headless Rider of Ikebukuro. The thought of Shinra briefly crossed his mind; was that how the underground doctor saw the urban legend? Would other humans who knew the Dullahan have any difficulty picturing head and body as one?

While intriguing on its own, that question had little relevance in the grand scheme of things. Izaya once more smiled widely at the Celty's head; even if it had been ugly, grotesque, or frighting, the faerie was still his ticket to Valhalla.

---

A sudden jolt and subsequent thrashing awoke Shinra, sending him into an immediate if groggy high alert. In the dim pre-dawn light he saw the fuzzy outline of Celty sitting upright in bed, her shoulders rapidly rising and falling and one hand raised to where her head would be. He extended one hand towards the nightstand, and placed the other on his lover's shoulder. "What's wrong?" the doctor asked, still groping for his glasses. "Celty, what's the matter? Nightmare?"

The Dullahan shook his hand off, then reached over him and placed something small and cool in his hands: his glasses. Shinra slid them on as Celty jabbed away at her cell phone, then squinted at the backlit screen.

Something cut my face. I know it. I felt it. It hurt.

"It could've just been a dream," Shinra suggested, resting his chin against Celty's shoulder. He wouldn't put it past Namie to experimentally injure a Dullahan's head, though a small part of him doubted it was still in her possession. "Maybe you dreamt about a kamaitachi or something."

He got the impression of Celty shaking the head she didn't have as she busily tapped at the screen. A slight shudder moved throughout her body, causing Shinra to frown as he read the text.

It felt like something was touching my face all over.

She deleted that, then replaced it with a new message.

It felt like there was a demon smiling at me.

AN: The kamaitachi that Shinra references is a kind of Japanese demon, a youkai that takes the form of either a single or trio of weasels that ride the wind and slash at their victims. If you were paying attention, Izaya also makes a reference to kamaitachi in the third episode. Yousei refers to faeries, particularly those of Western origins such as Dullahans.

I am currently in the process of recreating Celty's head with craft store materials. No, I am not insane. Yes, I may be slightly deranged.