Disclaimer: I do not own Jonathan Crane or the Scarecrow, nor anything else of DC Comics.

Wherever we go, it's the same, whether it's at a faculty party, a symposium, or a forward planning committee on world domination. Someone will look at me, whom people often describe as 'chilly' 'antiseptic', 'awkward', and my favorite, 'creepy', and then at my wife, Yureiko, who is petite, graceful, sweet-faced and usually smiling, and ask, bewildered, "How did you two meet?", as if we came from different planets.

If I feel the impulse to be rude, I reply, "Oh, I threw her together in the basement out of spare parts." They laugh at that, until my 'chilly' stare and deadpan demeanor get to them. Then I laugh, and say, "Gotcha!", which gets an even bigger laugh. They go on their way, thinking that Crane isn't such a stick in the mud after all. Yureiko thinks it's hilarious, because in a way, it's true.

(On one such occasion, I replied that I bought her from a brothel keeper in Burma for five hundred dollars. She did not find that hilarous. I wound up sleeping on the sofa that night.)

The other reply is a proper 'how we met story'. It's also a complete fabrication. Most often we tell it jointly, over a dinner table, somewhere that we can beam at one another fondly. That part, at least, is genuine.

I usually start, "Well, of course you know I went to Japan a couple of years ago, to return Lady Suzume's remains. While I was there, my host—I was staying with a professor at Tokyo University—introduced me to his niece Yureiko, who was visiting them for part of the summer. I thought she was a lovely young girl, rather serious and quiet. I thought it was very considerate of her to offer to show me the sights the next day, and I certainly didn't want to be rude."

"But we were thinking two different things." Yureiko frequently adds, in her charmingly accented voice. "We went to the important temples and gardens in the University area, and by the time we stopped for a bowl of noodles, I was very hot and thirsty, so I ordered a beer. Jonathan, who was sitting at the counter, suddenly sits up even straighter, and says, 'I'm sorry. I don't know what they let you do at home, but I wouldn't feel comfortable with providing alcohol to a minor.' I could only look at him with my mouth open, and then I asked him, 'How old do you think I am?' And he says—."

I take over again at that point. "'Fourteen!' Mind you, I thought she was a very intelligent, well-informed, and poised fourteen year old—much more so, in fact, than many of the college graduates we turn out over here."

At less than five feet tall, Yureiko, with her triangular kitten's face and her slim, delicately formed figure, makes the error plausible. "And she replied, 'I'm twenty-four.'"

"I was shocked." Yureiko laughs. "It took a moment for that to sink in, and then I wanted to cry. I liked him so much already—I could barely look at him because I was afraid I couldn't stop staring at his eyes—I hadn't met very many Americans then, but he was so different than how I thought of them—not loud or fat or overfriendly—and he was different from the young men I knew, too. I never dated very much, either. I'm not fun. I don't have a cute personality, I would rather go to the dentist than to a karaoke club, and I don't care for pachinko. And I'm quiet and I read a lot. All that meant I stayed at home most nights."

"All of those statements could be said to apply to me as well." I contribute.

She nods. "I'd never asked a man out on a date before, and it took a lot of courage to do it. So I asked him, 'Then what did you think we were doing today? Because I thought we were on a date.' He didn't answer, and I couldn't bear it any longer, so I ran out of the noodle shop."

"I was still in shock myself." I tell our by-now rapt audience. "I'm thinking—twenty-four? She's twenty-four? And she asked me out? Being no fun myself, and not having a cute personality either—not to mention being broke for so many years while I went through both college and medical school, I had come to believe I was completely undateable.I realized I had to go after her. There was no way I was letting this one slip through my fingers. So when I caught up with her, I apologized and explained, and then we went back for that beer."

"And when we were drinking it, he said, 'This will make a great story to tell, someday." Yureiko blushed.

"I was right, wasn't I?" I counter.

Then we smile at each other while our listeners laugh, and come out with 'how-we-met' stories of their own, reassured that the Cranes are a nice, normal young couple, after all.

The truth—the real truth—is much stranger and much more interesting.

It began when my nose itched...

A/N: I took the weekend off of writing because it was so beautiful, and now I'm stalled on Can't Get You Out Of My Head. I'm hoping this gets me back on the fanfic bicycle. The title of this story is taken from a line Falcone has in Batman Begins: "Ignorance is bliss, my friend. Don't burden yourself with the secrets of scary people."

And anyone who's curious as to who I would cast as Yureiko should go to Youtube and look up Yukie Nakama, an exceptionally fine Japanese comedian and actress.