Break #6: In Which Celty Takes Full Advantage of the Benefits and Advantages of Owning a Head (Part 1)

Celty took herself off to Izaya's apartment. Maybe not the smartest thing to do—what if she ran into Izaya, what would he say?—but she wanted to keep up with Namie, and she had a mission to accomplish. So she squared her shoulders, nodded decisively, and rang the doorbell. She wrestled a little to get the yellow cat helmet off of her head before Namie opened the door. The scarf around her neck kind of pulled, twisted, and stretched strangely. That was awkward.

Namie opened the door. She stared at Celty and squinted, letting her eyes rove up and down, until she finally focused to start with Celty's feet and work her way up to her head. That seemed to waylay her confusion. She flinched when she got to the scarf at Celty's neck, but bravely continued to look her in the face. Then she came to herself, and slowly turning pink, looked at the ground again, and said, "Sorry. I was staring. It's hard to reconcile..."

"Don't worry about it. Hello, Namie."

"Hello, Celty." Namie hesitated, not knowing what to do next.

"Is Izaya in?" Celty asked.

"Yes, he is. He can hear us, too."

"I heard that!" Izaya's voice interjected faintly from afar.

Namie smiled wanly. After a moment to consider, Namie said, "Come in," and stepped back from the door. "Izaya..." She shook her head. "He's not...never mind. You might as well see him, I suppose."

"That wasn't my intention, sure, but..." Celty let out a breath of air and smiled. "Good, I have a confrontation to look forward to. I'm sure he feels up to gloating."

Namie flashed her a short, grateful smile. "I'm glad you understand." She probably didn't want Celty going in to see him with the wrong expectations. Izaya's approach to relationships tended to unbalance people, even the ones who had known him the longest.

"Men," Celty agreed. "Utter fools, the lot of them. If you'll excuse me, I'm coming in. Ojamashimasu!" she called, stepped inside the house, and removed her boots.

Namie stepped back for her and pointed to the stairs that led up to Izaya's office space over the kitchen. "Go up there."

Izaya shrieked, "No! — Don't come up here, you'll interrupt my beautiful work. I'll come down to see you, so stay there!"

"He won't come down. Go up there," Namie urged her.

Celty called up to Izaya, "Well, at least let me see what you're working on!"

Celty mounted the stairs quickly and popped her head up just over the office floor to take a peek.

There were piles of papers everywhere, scattered on the floor.

Celty smiled. "My goodness, Izaya, I'd never thought you'd waste this much paper! I thought you were an electronics kind of guy."

Izaya turned halfway and scowled at Celty. Then he took a double take, and his face went unreadable as she mounted the stairs. He opened another file and examined its contents, possibly trying to avoid looking at her. "The old way works better," he muttered.

"Well? What are you doing?" asked Celty.

Izaya carried on as if nothing had happened. "I'm finishing up some information—it's broker work," he said shortly.

"I thought you quit."

"I never quit. I went on hold. No, don't come here!" Izaya held up one hand warningly.

Celty scanned the floor again, appraisingly, and leaned on the wall. "If you keep this up, you are going to have a very short life," she said conversationally.

"But at least it won't be boring, ne?" Izaya turned back to the file he was currently contemplating.

"I suppose not. But it won't always be pleasant for you."

"Ain't that the truth," he muttered, tapping the file and frowning.

"What is it?"

"Well, for instance, seeing you with my head," he said, pretending nonchalance.

Celty snarled.

"Temper, temper." Izaya snapped the file shut and laid the papers in yet another pile on the floor. "Get out of my way. I'll come down to talk to you." He weaved his way through the piles and followed Celty downstairs. Celty led him to the kitchen, then turned around.

Izaya raised his chin and put his hands on his hips. "I'm surprised you chose to forgo your sculpted boots and gave up the opportunity to traipse all over someone's house in them. Aren't you here to insult me?"

"No."

"Pity, because that's exactly what I would do in your place," said Izaya coldly. "And then this conversation would be over. Everyone's happy and we never speak to each other again. It works out so well."

"You are not me, and I am not you," said Celty calmly. "But also, there is one other person whom I respect in this house. If I stooped to that level, I would also be insulting her—and I would rather not, if you don't mind. I would rather confine my quarrel to you."

"Yes, how did you persuade Namie to give you the head? My head?"

This time Celty slapped him. Hard. And it felt good. Very good. "Don't distract me. I know you have things to hide, and I know what you're doing and it's not necessary or helpful to either of us. You're just avoiding the issue. Now. First of all, she offered. Second, pretend to have ownership over my head again and I will take you to the ground. Don't think I won't."

Izaya rubbed his cheek, which was quickly turning pink from the force of her slap. "Point taken. Namie said the same." At least for the moment, he seemed remorseful.

Honestly, he was trying to rile her up. And for what purpose? Didn't he ever see what he was doing? No wonder he never had friends. He did everything he could to provoke them into crossing the line of no return, just to make sure that they wouldn't cross it entirely of their own volition. It was a classic "drop-them-before-they-drop-you" situation. Celty tried not to sigh. When he was like this, Izaya was simply tiresome.

So she stood tall, clasped her hands behind her back, and spoke the truth as directly as she saw it. "I have the most irritating feeling that you just baited me to prove a personal point of yours. I have no idea what it could be." Her blue-green eyes were piercing. "So drop it. Talk about the issue we have standing between us right now."

Izaya's crocodile mouth stretched cruelly, poised to say something irrelevant and even more damning—

Namie stepped forward briskly and clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Stop."

"What?" Izaya turned to look at her in irritation.

"I said, stop. Say you're sorry and we can all move on." Namie shook his shoulder, slowly and gently, but hard enough to make him sway.

Izaya said flatly, "But I'm not sorry."

"Shut up. You're an idiot." She shook him harder.

Izaya hissed like a cat, trying to break from her hold. His narrowed eyes didn't waver from Namie's.

Namie's grip tightened. "No. No, you listen to me. Celty is my friend."

Izaya walked forward, wrenched his shoulder out of her grip and crossed his arms, turning to face her. "Oh?" he said.

"Yes. So back off. And as such, you should apologize. At least tell her what the hell you were actually doing with the head, because I sure don't know. You owe her that much at least. Do the right thing."

Izaya's nostrils flared, and he locked eyes with Namie, breathing anger. And then he closed his eyes, turned back to Celty, and to Celty's amazement, he did what Namie said.

His voice was flat, and slightly disconnected from his feelings, but he did what she said.

"I am sorry that I hid your head for so long. In all fairness, in the beginning I was protecting it from the...tender..."(Izaya's lip curled with distaste) "ministrations of the Nebula Corporation. Namie and the head came together." Namie inclined her head, and he continued, "It certainly would not be safe with them. Namie was also attached to it because it's yet another painful and pathetic reminder of her brother Seiji, as twisted as that is." He glared at Namie. Namie didn't react. "And then I got interested. I had a theory that perhaps it was sleeping because it needed something like a war to wake it up."

"It had something to do with a valkyrie," Namie put in, sounding bored. "If that means anything to you. It was also about the time when the Dollars and the Yellow Scarves went head to head."

Celty blinked.

With a glance at Namie, Izaya went on warily. "Whatever. I failed to wake the head. I got bored, and I needed to use my office to receive visitors again. People start to ask questions when they see the head drifting in preservation fluid like a trophy. I never really intended to give it back to you, but I didn't have a need for it anymore, and I just wanted to see what might happen to it next. So I dropped hints to Shizuo and waited."

"And here we are," said Namie.

Izaya pointedly turned his back on them both.

Celty folded her arms and said quietly, "I've still got you to thank that I got my head back after all." Izaya twisted to stare at her with an expression that said very clearly, Are you insane?, and he pretended to inspect some of Namie's new potted plants in front of him. Celty sighed. "Thanks for the apology. I'm honored, truly, it's more than I expected. Look, Izaya, I've got a new job with Tom Tanaka, Shizuo's old boss, but if you ever have work for me to do you can still call me up. Don't forget. It's not like I support everything you do, and I'll refuse any jobs that I see as unreasonable as usual, but I'm not opposed to working for you either. Okay?"

Izaya nodded curtly.

"Thank you, Celty," said Namie, on his behalf.

Celty made a face. On the contrary. Apparently, I couldn't have had a civil conversation without you. "Namie, I've got some things I want to ask you."

"What kinds of things?" They drifted into the living room, away from Izaya.

"Womanly things."

"Excuse me for a moment." Namie turned and shouted over her shoulder, "Go back to work, Izaya!"

Izaya made grumbling noises and made as if to go upstairs. Celty noticed he didn't ascend all the way. It amused her rather.

"As I was saying...um...actually I came here because I was wondering if you knew anything about makeup and clothes." Celty blushed a light pink.

"Really?"

"Yes. Umm... I know you were a respected as scientist and President at Yagiri Pharmaceuticals. Shinra mentioned working with you sometimes. I thought you'd know about, oh, you know, workplace fashion or something. How to look presentable."

"Ye-es," said Namie, uncertainly.

"I don't own any clothes of my own. I've never needed to. I have my black suit, which I can change into any form at will, but I don't have any color. And...well, now that I've got my head back, I want to be able to walk around in public without anyone guessing that I'm the Black Rider. So I think something besides black that isn't biker gear is in order."

Namie's face was twitching, as if she really wanted to smile, but couldn't quite yet. "Yes. Yes, I see. Me too...there's still a bounty on my head, but if I'm with you..." Her voice wobbled a little with a dawning happiness. "I think I can do that. I'll be back in just a minute. Wait for me, please?"

"Of course."

Namie turned, grabbed the stair railing, and yelled to the rafters, "IZAAAAYA, I'm going out! With CELTY!"

Unaccustomed to the noise, Izaya clutched at his hair, and screeched his reply, "Well, go on! I won't believe it until I see it!"

"I KNOW!" she bawled, and ran to get her purse from her room.

"Are you guys always this loud?" Celty asked Izaya.

Izaya didn't deign to answer that with anything but a light shrug. Must be a new thing. He turned around on the office stairs and said in his normal voice, "I have just one thing to say."

"Say it."

"You've got your head back. You'll be in danger from Nebula."

"I was in danger to begin with," said Celty.

"No, you worked out a deal with Shinra's father Shingen, let him do the experiments, and that protected you from Nebula's influence. But Nebula always takes notice when there are new developments and nuances to the immortal beings they study. Regaining your head would qualify. Even if they choose you reject you for further experimentation...which they probably will...you'll be in the grey for at least three months once they find out."

"Thanks for the warning, Izaya."

"Don't thank me. I did it for Namie."

"If you insist."

Namie came rushing from the hall. "Hey! What did you guys talk about? I heard my name."

"Nothing," said Celty and Izaya, almost in unison. "Nebula," Celty added, afterwards. Izaya glared at her. "Hey, I've got something to announce to you both."

"What?"

"Shinra and I are engaged to be married!"

Izaya smirked. "I knew it. The doc was crazy about you. Congrats. I got the phone call last night." His tone was ironic. "Sometimes Shinra acts like a teenage girl."

Celty stiffened, but didn't otherwise react. Namie shot a look at Izaya; turned back to Celty. "Congratulations to you both. I'm glad to see you and Izaya getting along," said Namie, cramming things into her bag.

"We usually do," Celty reassured her. "Izaya seems be working through some kind of paranoia." Celty glowered in his direction.

Izaya didn't refute this. He simply shook his head, turned, and walked slowly back up the stairs, all the way. They heard his office chair's wheels roll back and creak forwards, and then there was taut silence.

"He's ashamed, I think," said Namie, biting her lip, glad to have someone to talk to about Izaya for once. She held out the door to the apartment, and they both put on their shoes.

"Probably. He prides himself on being able to figure out the human race. He doesn't like being proven wrong, or being shown a side of himself that he isn't exactly objective." Celty shook herself quickly and walked out the door. "That said, I've never seen this side of him before."

"Yes..." Namie locked the door behind them.

"It's good to see that he trusts you. You're a good influence."

"What?" Namie gawked at Celty.

"Well, he does trust you. He wouldn't obey anyone else like that. I'd like to see anyobody else try and make him apologize."

"I...I guess you're right," said Namie, a bit shaken.

Celty thought that unsure, bewildered expression of hers was rather cute.

They went shopping. They bought three kinds of lipsticks for Celty, one a dark purplish red that made her look edgy and gothic, one a soft orange red that went well with her hair, and the third was a light pinkish purple that was just barely more intense than the actual shade of her lips. It's like chapstick, Namie explained. Namie said that the rest of the makeup supplies could wait for another day, since Celty's goal was to appear in public looking normal, so they needed more time to look for clothes. Truth to tell Namie probably just wanted another one of these girl-time dates.

They needed that time because Celty was a little lost in the clothes department. After some consideration, Namie decided they should start with pants. No one could go wrong there. Unfortunately Celty had a taller and more buxom figure than most girls in Japan, and they found very little for a long time until finally they found one that fit. They were plain blue bell-bottomed jeans. "Here, order a lot of these," said Namie. "They're practical. We'll search for something more fancy later."

"Okay," said Celty happily, and clutched her shopping bags to her chest.

The blouses were much easier after that. Namie had a good eye for the practical items that Celty needed. Of course it helped that their tastes were similar: high quality, sleek, no branding, classic. Namie liked texture, which Celty was oblivious to; and Celty liked dark colors, a serious affliction which Namie tried to alleviate as best she could—sometimes whimsically.

In the middle of their trip, Namie realized Celty didn't have any underclothes at all, and she was probably going to need them. Someday. Okay, that could be awkward. And she'd really rather not be involved.

The conversation went much like this. "Do you need any pointers on getting a bra?" "No. You just find what fits, right?" "Pretty much. Go play. I'm going to take a nap over here while you do that, okay? And get some underwear too. It doesn't have to be lingerie. Comfy is good... Please don't show me what you get." With that, Namie yawned, curled up in the corner of her favorite department store, and took a nap. Celty woke her up when she was done, barely fifteen minutes later. Namie glanced at the clock. "Wow, that was fast. Well done."

With renewed energy, they took off to scout out jackets, shoes, socks, and purses. Celty was simply fascinated by the jackets, which bemused Namie. "But you never get cold," she observed. And Celty said, "Ermm...sometimes...But they look so cool!"

And at the end— "Would you like a white lab coat of your own?" Namie teased.

"No thanks, I'm good." Celty grinned. "Shinra can keep his just fine."

They went out for ice-cream, and stayed in the parlor long after they were done, talking about boys and Izaya and Shinra and what Namie's life at Yagiri Pharmaceuticals was like, hashing out Shinra's involvement there, and a couple of Namie's ideas for what she wanted to do next.

"Maybe you need to meet the right person to get you started," Celty suggested. "You don't have that many connections. The only guy you had to help you before was Shingen, a little, who was at the time working for your university—wow, thinking about it, that phase didn't last long for him before he got kicked out, but he sure had a huge impact—and your uncle, I guess?"

Namie's brows furrowed, and she put her head on her left hand, thinking. "Yeah. Could be. My uncle died, leaving his post open. And my father stepped in, but he isn't ... he isn't here anymore. We don't even know..." She shook her head.

"He probably funded you until you got your feet off the ground, huh."

"Yes, exactly. We barely had time to become profitable and recoup his investments twice over before we were bought out."

"Ouch." Celty winced.

"Yeah. It hurt. I don't want to fail like that again. It was really good to have Dad manage the business, it left me time to dream." Namie played with her water glass. "Until he left. I could do business just fine, I think. I watched him closely enough. But I can't be the scientist, the visionary, the manager, and the businesswoman all at once. I need to have only one role so I can focus. That's why I'm afraid..."

"Right. You need a group of people, a team to support you, with connections."

Namie nodded. "The thing that scares me about that...the reason why I don't like to think about it is...well, you know, I'm shy." She lowered her head and massaged her neck. "The only way I know how to cover for it is by being bossy."

"I believe it." Celty drummed her fingers on the table. "Maybe if you told Izaya what was hanging you up, he would help you."

Namie considered. "It's worth a try. He does have tabs on everyone, it's just not usually people in the respected scientific community..."

Celty laughed harshly and wiped tears from her eyes. How long it had been since she had cried for joy. "But in the immortals community, he's got tabs everywhere. That is so Izaya. Always looking for excitement." She shook her head. "And it's also perfect for you, because of your interests. Hopefully they're not all Nebula. But it's not just scientists. If you can find a businessman who is interested in your ideas, or an investor, anyone...those people can help you too."

"Yeah. Thanks, Celty."

"Anytime. Hey, do you know what Izaya was working on?"

"I have an idea. That's all. I think he's keeping track of his enemies' movements. Well, his and mine." Namie stroked the wood of the table.

"Hmm."

Namie looked up. "Explained something, did it?"

Celty stretched. "A little bit, yes. I hope he's having fun at LME. Makes life easier for all of us."

"Not for me," said Namie ruefully.

"Oh, come off it. You get what, twelve whole hours to yourself?"

"It gets a bit lonely. I don't have much to do. And Izaya's too tired to order me around much after nine o'clock, though to be fair, I complain a lot. To maintain appearances."

"Then we should do more together. Is there anything you'd like to try? A class or something?"

"Karate," Namie answered promptly.

Celty cracked her knuckles. "I hear it's hard on the joints. How about judo?" Celty countered. "Or cooking?" Celty liked to cook, but she wasn't quite confident of how good it tasted.

"I know how to cook. I can teach you, if you like. I bet Shinra would like Korean black bean sauce. Wushu!"

"Tai-chi!"

Namie gave her a withering look.

Celty scratched her head. "On second thought, let's avoid combat."

"Why?" Namie demanded.

Celty grinned guiltily and held up her hands. "Too many choices. And you're scaaaaaarrrry..."

"Why you—!" Namie grabbed Celty's shoulders and shook her back and forth while Celty laughed and laughed, squealing something that sounded like "I don't wanna fight! I don't wanna fight!" and people turned to look at them. Then Namie hooked one of Celty's arms into a headlock position until Celty sputtered, "K-k-kendo!"

That one Namie didn't care for so much. She released Celty, sat back and wrinkled her nose. "Expensive. Lots of sweat. Okay, maybe it's stereotypical, but I prefer naginata-jutsu over that."

That got Celty's attention. "A pole-arm. Yes." She thought of her scythe. "That could actually be useful. I like it. Namie, you remember...?" Celty outlined the shape of the scythe with her hands. Namie's eyes lit up. "You're a genius!"

"Ah! Yes, I do remember." Namie grinned at Celty. "Let's do it. I'll look up classes."

"It can't just be schoolgirls who are learning, I'm sure." Celty grinned back.

"Even if there are, oh! Bah! Who cares?" Namie waved her hand dismissively.

It was just so nice to have a girl for a friend.

The next day, Celty took the tags off of the clothes she bought and assembled her outfit: a long-sleeved green shirt—well, more of a tunic, it had a cord to tighten the the shape of the figure—and then dark blue jeans underneath. It looked pretty normal, but nice. Celty took her head off to brush her hair, an activity which would have scandalized Shinra if he saw. She chose some sandals and her new purse and hopped over to the mirror to fix her makeup and her scarf.

She was about to go, but then she hesitated. She wanted to take a really good look in the mirror before she headed out into the city looking like a normal person for the first time. It was still startling to see her own pale moss-green eyes staring back at her. She thought she might have black hair—wouldn't that suit her so well?—but instead her hair was a soft reddish brown. It was puzzling. It made her look gentle, and, well, rather young, not imposing or powerful at all, as she had become used to thinking of herself. Was that really her?

Shinra came up behind her and threw his arms around her shoulders and waist. "I just happened to hear you thinking..." He peeked over her shoulder at the mirror.

"Oh, you did, did you?" Celty wriggled her trapped arm out of Shinra's embrace and locked both of his arms together with her hands at his wrists. Now he couldn't move unless she let him.

"Yes. You're thinking you're not pretty enough, or not normal-looking enough, or something," Shinra said. "But you're Celty. No one in their right minds can keep their eyes off you." He tried to wrest one arm away from Celty in order to push his glasses back up on his nose, but failed. He sighed and rested his head against her shoulder instead.

"Buu-buu. That was not what I was thinking. And 99.99999...oh forget it...percent of humanity can keep their eyes off of me just fine."

Shinra sniffed. "Their loss. Wait, I don't want to share you anyway! So what were you really thinking?"

"That I'm not sure if that face...is me. If it represents me, I mean. I know it's my face. It's beautiful. I know that, too, and I'm glad. But I'm not sure if it says the right things about me to people. Do you know what I mean?"

"What, that you are gentle and kind and kind of shy and totally cute?"

"Yes. Like that."

"Well, it's true. Except the 'shy' part depends. Of course, it's also true that you are sophistocated and old and wise and smart, and that you aren't a pushover by any stretch. I guess you'll just have to show people that those things are true through your actions, just like everybody else. Besides, have you ever considered what a yellow cat motorbike helmet says to people?"

"Errrr..." To be honest, Celty never had thought about that. And it was a present from Shinra, many years back. How could she not...?

Shinra chuckled. "Figures. Celty, that old thing worked for you because you're you. On anybody else, they would look like a dork. But eventually it kinda became your icon, and once that happened people stopped worrying about what it meant and it was just you."

Celty snorted with humor, imagining it. "So you're telling me to stop worrying and get over it."

"I'm telling you to stop worrying and get over it. To be honest... Listen, Celty, this is Human Culture 101: people relate to people with faces. Or animals. Actually, even things with faces..." He distracted himself.

"So I've been telling you for years."

Shinra stood on his tiptoes to make himself seen over Celty's shoulder and made a face. "Yeah, but I hereby proclaim myself weird. What I'm trying to say is, people will feel more at ease when they approach you now. I'm sure you've met some people who were just plain terrified of you because of your helmet, right? Even though it was a happy yellow."

"I guess. Occasionally." Celty reflected. "They couldn't figure out how to talk to me. Wouldn't even look at what I was holding in my hands, to see what I had actually written there."

"Yeah. They didn't have a clue." Shinra tried to stick his face under her arm. It didn't work. "But because you have this face, even ordinary people will give you a fair chance. And moreover, they'll see qualities that they might have assumed you didn't have at first glance when you didn't have your head, that you actually have."

Celty took a moment to track that statement. "Oh. You mean...the qualities that they can see in my face now, like kindness, were the qualities they really needed to see first, before they would give me a chance. They thought I was dangerous."

"Umm. Yeah," said Shinra, still weaving his head about to catch sight of the mirror. "And they're kinda right...you are, technically...but you would never harm them, because you are gentle and kind and don't want to hurt anybody, even your enemies. Don't deny it, I've seen you. They just didn't know because they couldn't see it, and when their instincts screamed at them, and, you see, you've got to trust your instincts."

"So it's the right face for me."

"Yes it is." Shinra smiled, and Celty released his arms and let him take a step back. She turned around and took his hands again in a light grip, swinging them a little, and in the moment her expression was blissfully happy. She was not looking at him directly, but she was blushing, and her eyes were sparkling.

She was so beautiful it made his heart seize with joy. Taking a deep breath, Shinra said to her, gabbling a little and talking too fast from excitement, "Have I—have I mentioned how g-gh-ghhm glad! I am that I am now able to do—this—" He released her hands and pulled her shoulders down, and he kissed—

Celty stumbled back, taken by surprise by the sudden surge in momentum, but in the blink of an eye she had regained her balance and locked her fingers behind Shinra's head, and she finished the kiss.

They both gasped for air. And once she got enough of her breath back, Celty said, "Yes, I am too—" and Shinra grabbed her again, a little roughly because his hands were shaking and wouldn't grip properly, but Celty hardly cared, her head was whirling with happiness and excitement and the next several moments were very, very busy.

[...]

Finally Celty pulled back, and Shinra coughed and wheezed, "Sorry I grabbed you like that—I was—"

"No, no, it was nothing. Let's take it a little slower next time—"

"Yeah, uh, I—yeah I meant to—but I—I—" Shinra's hands couldn't gesture enough. "I love you."

It was a little comical but she knew exactly what he meant. "I love you, too." Celty embraced him again.

And Shinra said into her shoulder, "You were about to do something important. By yourself. Are you ready to go?"

"Yes."

"Just one more—"

Celty smiled. "Fine. But after that I've got to say goodbye to my motorcycle, and then I'm leaving."

"All right," Shinra sighed.

Celty had to say goodbye to her motorcycle because it would be offended if she left it behind without a reason. It didn't like to be without her, and Celty rarely ventured into the city without it. It may have looked like an inanimate object, but it still had the spirit of a horse pounding in its engine, and it longed to have its "run."

So she explained her errand, and why she was leaving it behind, and in response the bike thrummed with contentment. Celty promised to take it out on a good long ride the next day.

Hmm, maybe that's why she was getting in trouble with the police lately. Riding her bike was a system of subtle negotiations, and it didn't always like to listen to her worries about the speed laws. The bike could handle itself, it reminded her often, and therefore speed restrictions and safety worries were unnecessary. It would never crash or run over people, for instance, so what was the point?

Celty could rarely convince it otherwise, and what made it all the harder was that she also liked the speed. That probably rendered her arguments ineffective...

She patted it once more, brushed herself off, and left. The engine rumbled to itself.

Celty walked to the main square and looked around. She doubted if anyone would recognize her the way she was dressed now, but what if she introduced herself to them?

That made her feel very sneaky. She stretched cracked her knuckles. If there was a time to prank, this was it.

First order of business. She hadn't realized when she left the apartment, but now she was hungry. So she went into the sushi shop off the corner of the square, and let herself in.

The bells tinkled, and she closed the door softly. Then she caught Simon's eye, put a finger to her lips, and winked.

Simon's jaw dropped and he gaped like a fish.

Celty sighed and smiled at him. She took out her cellphone. It's me, Celty. The Black Rider. Don't tell anyone! Is Kadota's gang here? I want to surprise them.

Simon nodded, and led her down the hall. He was always eager to please. He blocked the doorway to the room and Celty slipped out from behind and under his arm, and scurried to stand behind Kadota, blocking his eyes.

"Kadota-kun! Guess who?"

"Ahnnngh. I don't like this game!" Kadota groaned. "Please! Anyone! Just tell me who it is!"

Celty giggled. Togusa, Erika, and Walker were all gaping, wordless. A piece of salmon slipped from Walker's chopsticks and fell on his rice.

Togusa said slowly, "Kyohei, you're going to have to guess."

"What? Nobody else can tell either?" Kadota said, annoyed. "Why's that?"

"We were kind of hoping that you knew her...Sort of..." said Togusa. "Have you been... um..." His eyes flickered and he turned red.

Erika licked her lips. "Should we intervene, Dotachin?" A catlike smile pulled at her mouth. Her hunger for action was hard to hide.

"No, no, something seems familiar," said Kadota. "And stop calling me that! Can I have my eyes back, strange woman? Since nobody seems to recognize you?"

"Fine," said Celty, and stepped back. Erika and Walker wriggled sideways to make room for her to sit, and she did, laying her hands in her lap demurely. "Let's play twenty questions."

Kadota blinked several times and stared at her. "Looks like Mika Harima, but isn't. You're way taller. And you've got a different figure. Are you her mother?"

"No."

"Sister."

"No."

"Cousin."

"No."

"Aunt."

"No."

"Grandmother," Kadota gave up in defeat. "Oh, for heaven's sake!"

"No. Fifteen questions left," Celty warned.

"How do you know me?"

"Through my fiancée, I guess. And the information broker. I don't know, actually. It seems like I've known about you forever."

"Jeez..." Kadota looked to the others for help. "That's way too open. Can you guys...you know...?"

Walker leapt in quickly. "So, how do you know all of us?"

"Oooh, that's a lot harder. I meet you around town pretty often."

Kadota moaned and clutched his hat. "You're going to ruin my reputation with the kids!"

Celty glanced at Erika. She certainly had the fiery glint of a girl busily constructing mental fantasies. "Sorry," Celty said cheerfully.

Erika leaned forward. "Ne, ne. Are you in a relationship with Kadota?"

"Nope. Just friends. 12 questions!"

"Well, shoot. Are you—gay?" Erika asked, while Walker yelped, "That's irrelevant!"

"Didn't I just say I had a fiancée?"

"Oh yeah, you did." Erika tried to look contrite and failed. Kadota clapped a hand over his face. Over in the corner, Togusa blew at his air mopily.

"I'll give that one back to you... Togusa, I've yet to hear from you. What do you say?"

Togusa pressed his lips together, then said, "Are you a celebrity?"

"Oh, good question! Perhaps you should define what a celebrity is. Eleven questions."

"Are you an idol?"

"Nope."

"A singer?"

"Not at all. You don't want me in a karaoke bar. Well, actually... Hm. Actually, that might change."

What in the world? Togusa tried again. "An actor?"

"No."

"But you're famous."

"Yes. Seven questions."

"Are you a local?"

"Yes, of course. I live in this district."

Kyohei and Togusa exchanged glances. They should have known. "Are you a businesswoman?"

"Not really."

"What kind of job?"

"I'm a transporter and a...bodyguard, you might say. Oh no, that's not the right description at all." Celty wondered what Tom would describe her job as. "Enforcer, that's it."

"Do you know Tom Tanaka?"

"Yes. One question to spare!"

Walker blurted, "Are you the Black Rider?" and Erika crowed with triumph.

Celty was so excited that she had a coughing fit. "Aaaww, I was so close," she complained. "All right, I admit I lost. You know my name, though, right?"

"Celty Sturluson," Kadota answered. "That takes the cake. In fact, I'll buy you one."

"Why, thank you! You didn't have to!" Celty was touched.

Kadota smiled thinly. "You certainly are a troublesome woman. So, who's your fiancée?"

"Shinra Kishitani, of course." Celty smiled.

Kadota nodded. "Just making sure. Good for you. Congratulations."

"Congrats!" said Togusa.

"The best!" said Walker.

"Make lots of love!" Celty shot Erika a pained and pointed look, to which she was impervious. The rest of the gang suddenly became very interested in eating up their rice and avoided each other's eyes.

Kadota leaned back and put his hands behind his neck. "So...you have a head."

"I do."

"Do I want to know why your face looks like Mika's?" asked Kadota.

Celty shrugged. "Not really, but it's no secret. You never know what you're going to need to know on the streets. You see, I have been looking for my head for a very long time. Before I came to Tokyo, actually—let's just say that was thirty years or so. I came very close to it. It turned out that Shingen, Shinra's father, used Saika to steal my head without my knowledge. Well, he studied it for a while, and then handed it to a partner of his, a certain Yagiri. Do you follow?"

"Oh my—god," said Kadota, completely shocked. "Seiji-kun. Seiji Yagiri."

"Seiji-kun?" Erika chirped. "Yep, he's been dating Mika for a while. Or should I say, she stalked him until he gave up and surrendered to the tsundere. And now they're deep in love! They are sooo cuuuuuuuuute."

Slightly pained by that assessment, Celty continued. "Yes. Seiji's father owned the head, and Seiji fell in—lust?—love?—with it. And then Mika was stalking him. They had an accident, he thought he'd killed her, and Namie—scientist, president of Yagiri Pharmaceuticals, you remember her? She's Izaya's housekeeper right now—she fixed up Mika. Apparently in whatever illicit experiments were going on there, they do plastic surgery pretty regularly, so Namie easily reconstructed Mika's face to look like my head's."

"That's some serious work of mischief," said Kadota, turning gray.

"There you have it. It gets worse. Seiji falls in love with Mika, who is wearing my face."

"You're right, that is worse," said Kadota drily. Togusa pinched him. "What?"

"Sarcasm."

Kadota rolled his eyes. "Oh. My never-ending bad habit. Please continue, Celty."

"As I was saying, the worst part is that I then spotted Mika and cornered her because I sensed my head nearby. I have no idea why. It actually wasn't my head. But she has quite a scar on her neck. So...I thought my head had been sewed on hers, and I couldn't get it back without killing her! It was quite a dilemma!"

Everyone just kind of stared at her, at a loss for words. The 'joke' just didn't work for Celty. It was unthinkable for Celty to set aside mercy and kindness even for an instant. Even for a joke. She couldn't really have considered...

Sensing this, Celty coughed and blushed a little. "Sorry. Of course I couldn't do that. But...eventually I realized that wasn't my head stuck on Mika. So I kept searching. And here comes the weird part. Namie's business got taken over by this foreign enterprise, Nebula. She fled with the head to Izaya's apartment. Izaya decided to play a game of 'wake the head' according to his own weird apocalyptic theories and failed. He got bored, dropped a hint to Shizuo, and Shizuo related it to me. And I got it back."

"Huh. Shizuo and Izaya actually communicated?" Kadota leaned forward, speaking in an even lower voice than normal.

"Yep."

"Where are they, by the way?"

Celty too dropped her voice, put a finger in front of her lips and blew. "That's a secret. Shhh. They are being very, very good."

Kadota nodded. He understood.

Togusa shook his head hard, like a dog shaking off excess water. "That. That story is seriously messed up. I feel like...like..."

"Like some weird and bizarre soap opera invaded the earth and we never knew it," supplied Walker.

Togusa seized on it. "Yeah. Kinda like that. Exactly. It makes me start to wonder if our lives are quite that bizarre... Remember when you were writing that novel and we saw aliens flying across the city? You were so excited..."

"Of course I remember. That was my novel that incident was imitating!" Walker said gleefully.

Kadota shook his head. "Oi, Walker. I read your novel and there was nothing in there like that incident."

Erika stuck out her tongue at Kadota on Walker's behalf. Kadota raised his eyebrows.

"Sure, drama like this happens. I'm sure we all know families whose fates were royally tangled up, even without magic. Our lives happen in such a way that we don't think these things are that extraordinary at the time, do we?" Celty stretched lazily. "Shall we go get that cake, Kadota-san?"

"Oh, it's 'Kadota-san', now, is it?" Kadota looked around the table. "Never trust a woman being playful. Well, you guys ready to go?"

"Ikimashou! Let's go!" Walker and Erika were almost in chorus. They liked cake.