Break #7: In which Celty Pranks Friends, Laughs Herself Sick, and Invites Near Strangers to Her Wedding (Part 2)

Celty's motorbike was anxious to run the next day. Celty changed back into her black suit, and spent some time driving around her apartment just to calm her bike down. It would suddenly surge forward and try to steal some speed before Celty applied the brakes. The first few minutes of every morning were always bumpy, but Celty thought her bike was trying to make a point that day. Good thing she didn't bruise easily. Eventually the bike submitted to her will and she dared to venture into the city.

I still have so many people to prank, Celty thought. I've done Izaya and Namie...Kadota's gang...Shizuo...Simon...Anri...who else?

Only Seiji and Mika and Masaomi and Mikado didn't know by now. Them, and the streetside artist that Shinra had originally pegged as drawing Dullahans. It would be good to close the loop there.

The only place where Celty knew where to find them was the park with the fountains, so she went there, parked her bike, and ordered a take-out ramen lunch to eat. She waited, watched, and munched.

It was a Friday, so not many Raira students were here—it was still morning.

There were some choir singers who had taken up part of the park to practice. It sounded pretty. Some of the songs were in English. A few were even familiar and made Celty a little nostalgic for Ireland. It was strange. Where was she when she heard these songs? She knew she wasn't supposed to hear, back then, but it was so silly that humans believed that the people of the twilight couldn't take an interest, or that they were too far gone to appreciate it, when the music was so beautiful... And vaguely, vaguely, Celty felt that what they sang of had once been more familiar to her, and dearly important.

There was the woman who came to the park to improve her Japanese. She had improved greatly since she first came here, and even since that time when she had been looking for "lost things" and Celty had written the kanji for "head," 首, on her signboard. That must have been a puzzle for the woman, now that she thought about it. What would the woman have understood? Perhaps she thought it was an idiom or joke of some kind, as if Celty had lost her "sense," but Celty was being quite literal. Celty wondered what other people had written there: keys, surely; other people; jackets; glasses; and other articles... The woman stood there at the edge of the park, talking and joking with people whom she recognized. She seemed innately happy. The word that first came to her mind whenever she looked at that woman was "gutsy," and she always felt a little confused by that; but although the word was vulgar, it wasn't a bad thing in this woman. Celty wondered if she would have the courage to do anything of the kind if she went to another country. Probably not... She really should talk to her. Another day...

Actually, what if she explained it to the woman now?

"Sorry, but... um... do you remember that day when you were writing down the names for lost things?"

"Ah. Yes, I remember. That was a very interesting day!"

"Um." Celty rubbed the back of her neck. "Do you remember...my word was kubi, wasn't it? The word for head, 首. I guess that's kind of strange..."

"Yeah. I wondered when I came across it," said the woman.

"Well...I...I found it," said Celty.

"Really? What do you mean?"

"I'm the Kurobaikaa you've probably been hearing about. You know, dresses in black and is never seen without a yellow cat helmet? My head has always been separated from my body for as long as I can remember—I know that quite clearly, now—because I'm a Dullahan, but someone stole my head many years ago and I came to Japan to look for it."

"Oh yes, I've heard of you. Seen you, actually—weren't you the one who drove that motorcycle up the wall, that one time? Hmm. I've never heard of a Dullahan before."

"Yeah, it's not a very famous type of magical creature. Even in Europe. You're not surprised?"

"No, I've seen a lot of interesting things. Have you heard of the Legend of Sleepy Hollow?"

"Nope."

"I swear I saw it once. Hey, can I see your head? I'll be careful."

"You mean, take it off?"

"Yeah, why not? You can hold it. I just want to look."

"Sure." I showed Mikado last year, because he asked too. I was surprised he was as stoic as he was. Oh, but then I was really headless. I wonder... "Come into the shade. I don't want to startle the other people here." Celty unwound the scarf from her neck, lifted her head from her shoulders and held it out to the woman.

She gasped with excitement and bent to study it. She seemed entranced. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Celty half-smiled. "Yes, my boyfriend often says so. Lately, anyway."

"Boyfriend? Who?"

"Shinra Kishitani, you must have seen him. He's a doctor." Celty left out the part that he mostly worked underground for fishy pharmaceutical companies like Namie's and fixed up people with no insurance, who were mostly yakuza or gang people...

"He's the one with the lizard hair, isn't he?" The woman sculpted the shape around her own hair with her hands.

Celty chuckled. "And the white labcoat, and quite possibly a stethoscope hanging around his neck, also. Hey, would you like to come to the wedding? It's sure to be interesting." She said it on the spur of the moment. She rather liked the woman.

"Really? Could I? It would be okay?"

"Yes, sure, come. It might not be as interesting as you think, Shinra probably is thinking of a Western wedding..."

"That's fine, I can't believe it!"

"Then let's be friends."

"Yes! Do you know the date?"

Celty shrugged. "No, we don't know. We haven't decided still. Hey, if you come, here's what you can do for me: I have a friend who doesn't have many connections right now. She's a very interesting person, though, so if you can become her friend, then that would be great. I'm sure you'll hit it off..."

They parted ways and Celty returned to her park spot. School got out and the Raira high school students began to flood the park.

And there they were—Anri, Mikado, and Masaomi, flitting about the golden edges of the park as they were lit by the afternoon sun above, talking and laughing guiltily because they really ought to be getting home, but they were so anxious to be together. Anri was the first to see Celty, a sliver of shadow at the edge of the trees, and she was the first to slip away, while Mikado and Masaomi seemed to be coming towards Celty.

Celty circled around them, and coming from behind, she spoke strongly. "Mikado."

Mikado stopped, and his weight snapped a twig underfoot. Masaomi froze beside him, tense.

"Do you remember me?"

Mikado shook his head silently. "I don't recognize..."

"You asked something of me once. You asked to see what was under my helmet."

Mikado whipped around. "The Black Rider?" He grabbed Mikado's elbow, alarmed.

And there she was, black leather jumpsuit and yellow cat-helmet, poised, her posture casual and wry as usual.

"I have something to show you," she said.

Alarm bells instantly went off in their heads. Mikado gulped, and Masaomi frowned. Mikado said, mouth dry, "You've never spoken to me before. You've always typed into your cell phone..."

Celty inclined her head, and began to pull off her yellow helmet, pressing delicately from the bottom, negotiating with friction, revealing her face inch by inch. Scarf—black and sparkling—chin—lips—nose—eyelids, eyebrows, forehead—

Mikado stood there, entranced, eyes wide and staring. Masaomi squeezed Mikado's forearm a little tighter.

At last Celty swept the helmet from her head, and light-brown hair fell to her shoulders.

Mikado blinked once, bewildered, and fainted dead away. Masaomi struggled to keep Mikado's body from falling over and injuring itself and kept glancing confusedly from Mikado to Celty, who was gulping with hysterical laughter.

"You're the Black Rider?"

Celty bowed slightly.

Masaomi growled, "What the hell—"

Celty turned slightly pink. "He didn't even react when I was still headless," she giggled.

"He saw you when you were headless?!"

"Yes–"

"And it's now that he faints?!" Masaomi shouted in consternation.

Celty sat down on the wet earth and whooped with laughter, holding her sides together.

"Blimey!" Masaomi snapped, "Are you irresponsible or what?" because he didn't know what else to say, and laid Mikado down beside the woman.

Celty howled harder.

"So you weren't headless to begin with?" Masaomi said gruffly.

"Yes. It was stolen from me in Ireland—"

"Hold it right there. I don't want to know," said Masaomi, holding out one hand as a stop sign dramatically.

Celty smiled, and it wavered like a reflection on water. "You are probably wise."

Masaomi snorted. "Not wise. But I'm not a complete naive idiot like this guy." He shook Mikado's shoulder impatiently.

Mikado was finally starting to come around. "Ah, urgh—" he groaned. "What happened?"

"You fainted," Masaomi told him grumpily.

"Really? I'm sorry. Why—" he remembered. "Oh. Celty-san."

"You know her proper name?" Masaomi's voice sounded strange.

"Um. Yeah," Mikado murmured, and tried to get up. "Where is she?"

Celty shifted her position and knelt by Mikado's head. "Right here."

"Oh. You look really nice..." said Mikado.

Celty shrugged. "Thanks, I guess."

"Really...different. Sorry I fainted on you. It was just so strange... I promise I'll get used to it."

Celty chuckled. "Oh, Mikado. Kiddo, you're the only one who thinks that, believe me."

"Hey, nee, Celty-san. This must be a strange question to come up with—so suddenly, but do you ever—do you want to be anonymous?" Mikado asked.

"Sometimes," said Celty.

"Okay." Mikado closed his eyes. "I thought so... I won't reveal your identity."

"Thanks. Arigatou, Mikado-kun." Celty made as if to get up.

"Celty, I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm not sure that Mikado can make it home on his own," Masaomi interjected, a little too patiently. "Can you give Mikado a ride on your bike?"

"As you wish," said Celty, trying to look contrite, and so she did. She chatted with Masaomi while she pushed the bike with Mikado seated slumped over the handlebars, and they parted amiably at the boys' apartment. She told them, "Come to my wedding. You, Masaomi, Mikado, and Anri." They promised they would.

Celty dressed in her new clothes the next day, once again, after doing some errands and went out to the park late in the day, hoping to catch a little of the magic of the previous day. It wasn't to be, but she sat down, relaxed and listened to the water flowing from the fountains anyway. The peaceful, even, quiet sound made it easier to clear her head and forget about her worries. But time had passed and now it was very near to dark. She should probably be going home about now.

She looked up and she saw Saika, no, Anri Sonohara, was staring at her from across the park. When their eyes met, Anri's eyes flared red for an instant, but the glow faded quickly.

Celty had been recognized. She uncrossed her legs and waited.

Anri looked away quickly and glanced at the boys on either side of her. Then she made a decision. She nudged them, excused herself with a small bow, and skipped over to stand over Celty, looking uncertain and hesitant. The boys turned, wondering, to watch her, then shrugged and went on their way: Anri must have her reasons.

"Doumo," Anri said softly. "How do you do." She studied Celty's face, her own expression serious. She seemed a little perplexed at what she found there, but otherwise, did not react.

"Fine. And you?" said Celty, standing.

"I am doing well."

Celty sensed that wasn't exactly the case, but it was still the truth as far as Anri was concerned. Anri always seemed ill-at-ease. Some trauma in her past, like whatever bound her to Saika, would probably make normal parameters of need and stress hard to judge.

"Would you like me to walk you home while we talk?" asked Celty. "It's very late."

"If you would. Please," said Anri quietly. "It is always so late when we see each other."

"So it seems. But then, we are people of the twilight, after all."

Anri bit her lip and didn't answer; instead, she said abruptly, "I felt it when you reclaimed your head."

That made Celty feel anxious. "Oh...yes...I'm sorry. You did, didn't you? Did it hurt terribly? I never thought about what the resurgence of the bond would do to Saika."

Anri's eyes glowed red, remembering. "Yes. It hurt. It was like a rubber band, snapping. It's all right. But the sting has gone." The brightness faded to a dull brick red.

But Celty wondered. I don't envy her the mental backlash. "And Saika? How is she?"

It was, perhaps, the wrong question to ask. Then again, it might have been the right one. For a moment Celty thought Anri was about to attack her. Her eyes flashed cherry-red, and Saika slid from her right palm. But Anri grabbed her right arm with her left and mastered herself just barely; the only evidence of the faltering of her control was a slight trip in her step, and she kept walking and put her eyes on the road ahead. A sheen of sweat shone on her neck.

"Is it hard for you to be with me right now?" Celty asked her.

"Yes," Anri ground out, between her teeth. A sheen of sweat slicked her forehead.

"You shouldn't worry. Saika can cut me, but she can't infect me." Celty was pretty sure of that. Certainly the daughters of Saika had no power over her, and Celty couldn't understand how Saika could have severed her head without her knowledge without it making an attempt to infect her. Which meant that the infection attempt must have failed. If there was a reason for that, Celty suspected that it was because she wasn't one of Saika's beloved humans.

"I know...that's why she's..." Anri suddenly clenched her jaw.

"No, what I mean is, that's why you don't have to worry. Rest easy. Relax, girl."

A line furrowed between Anri's eyebrows, then disappeared. She relaxed slightly. "I see." If she lost control, it wouldn't hurt Celty, nor anyone else walking the streets here.

"So...you wanted to talk to me, that much was clear. Is something bothering you?"

"Masaomi's come back."

"You've talked about the incident with the Dollars and the Yellow Squares...?"

Anri shook her head.

"Then you should," said Celty quietly.

"You're right," said Anri. "And I keep trying, but they won't reply, or look at each other straight in the face."

"Perhaps you need some outside support," Celty suggested.

"Like what?" Anri's brow wrinkled.

"Talk to Simon about it. He'd be glad to help. He can listen—or prod the boys into spilling their guts. I've seen him at peace talks. He knows what he's doing."

"I wouldn't go that far..."

"But Masaomi-kun and Ryuugamine-kun would both accept that, right? Dinner at Russian Sushi? But here's the real reason I suggest it: the truth is, even if the three of you weren't at war, the respective organizations that you three represent almost came to blows."

Anri flinched.

"You are all leaders, and Masaomi and Ryuugamine need to behave as such. As adults. I know that smarts, but you need to learn when to get help, and when to face the facts."

"Thanks," said Anri slowly. "I'll do that."

"I'm glad. I know you can." Celty's face softened with fondness. "I hate to see the three of you so vulnerable."

Anri smiled. She didn't really know why, but with Celty, Anri didn't feel like a kiseijuu, a parasite. Celty made her feel like her favors were a gift, not a theft. Anri wondered at it.

They reached Anri's home, and Celty saw her inside to her apartment; and then she left, speeding off into the night. Had she remembered, she would have invited Anri to her wedding, but had forgotten.

"Mikado-kun!" A honey-blond kid yelled from across the street and sprinted over the scramble crosswalk to the park. Mikado turned around just in time to duck as Masaomi tackled him. "Aaaah!"

"Mou, I saw that TV spot of yours—" Masaomi latched himself onto Mikado's neck. "—illegally posted on YouTube!"

"We were on television?" said Mikado, struggling. "Why illegally...?"

"Yessss, you and Anri. With Kaaaasssuuuukkaaa Haaanejiiiiimaaaa! Weren't you? Don't you remember? Whatcha talkin' about?"

"Oh, yes. That," said Mikado, finding his balance again.

"'That.' That's all you can say, 'that.' What's this codswallop about you not being able to start something without me, eh? Baka!" Masaomi reached out and lightly mussed Mikado's hair.

Mikado winced. "Get off, Anri will think weird things about me. She's standing right over there, you know! —Well, I couldn't! It didn't feel right!" As quickly as Masaomi had mussed his hair up, Mikado smoothed the uneven spikes that Masaomi had made. He scowled.

"Come on. Me'n Saki skipped out of town, never gave a thought to the two of you, so why shouldn't you have gone out and been selfish? For once? Saki and I went to Tokyo Disneyland, and the ocean, and ate like a ton of crab one day, and—" Masaomi kept babbling enthusiastically. "We were watching gulls fly on the sea when the Ikebukuro special came on! Saki showed me on her phone!"

"Erm..."

"Well, in any case, I'm not interested in Anri. I only looked out for her because she was clearly in trouble with that creepy teacher. And you liked her. I love Saki, I have since... I don't even remember, it's been so long... So do what you please. Okay? Clear?" Masaomi bopped Mikado on the head.

"Yes. All clear." Mikado rubbed the spot.

"Okay!"

"Speaking of which, where is Saki?"

"She went to go speak to Simon at Russian Sushi," Masaomi answered, and blathered, "She doesn't know you guys, I have to introduce her and she felt awkward and she has some things to discuss with Simon, like I said. She wanted us to get things straight first which was quite easy to do, don't you think. Didja know Izaya is on the move?"

"Oh..." said Mikado. "I thought he disappeared. Why would he be on the move?"

"Retreat is movement!"

"Masaomi-kun?" Anri asked shyly.

"Anri-chan," Masaomi rejoined.

"Um," Anri turned pink, but she set out determinedly, "You left very quickly after, um, you know. The Yellow Scarves meeting. I think we need to all talk about what happened there. And not online either. Of course that helps but it's really not...not the same. We need to talk. Because we don't know who we are."

This time, Masaomi wasn't so enthusiastic. He glanced at Mikado; Mikado was staring a hole into the pavement. Finally, he sighed and scuffed the ground, clearly unhappy. "All right. We'll head over to Russian Sushi, meet Saki, and talk there. All right? Saki must've known our problems were bigger than I wanted to admit."

"I wouldn't say problem," Mikado put in. "We're having communication issues, that's all."

Masaomi rolled his eyes.

"Thanks, Masaomi-kun, Mikado-kun," said Anri, and smiled a little. The smile made her face seem softer.

"Celty has invited us all to her wedding. Can you come?" asked Mikado, a little awkwardly.

Anri dipped her head, surreptitiously taking Mikado's hand, and squeezed. "Yes."

That night Celty received a visitor shortly after dinner, and for some reason Shinra was having breakfast dessert.

He didn't knock, or ring the doorbell. He opened the door, stepped in, and sloughed off his shoes. "Yo." He saluted. The blond hair made it immediately obvious who the visitor was. "Looks like it's going to rain," he commented.

"Aaaah, Heiwajima-san," Shinra sang, pouring a box of rice krispies cereal and splashing it with too much milk, as usual. "Come in~~~! Did you know—"

"You've been engaged," Shizuo interrupted, to save himself the trouble of listening to Shinra.

"Ah, how'd you guessss—?" Shinra whined, clutching his heart.

"You left me a slightly hysterical and possibly drunken message on my answering machine..." Shizuo rolled his eyes. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out from whom." Shizuo took another step inside and craned his neck. "Celty, if I may ask—"

Celty popped her head into the kitchen and said, "Yes? Hai?"

Shizuo whipped his head around to see her face, and was felled by the shock. He slipped on the slick floor of the genkan, tried to catch the molding on the sides of the doorframe, and landed on his back with a thud. Shizuo groaned, loudly.

In the kitchen, Shinra winced and scurried to help him up. Shinra mouthed at Celty to stay where she was. Celty did, though she was slightly confused.

Finally Shizuo clomped into the kitchen and sat down to rest against the island counter, rubbing his lower back with his hand. "Damn flea," he muttered. He was trying to conceal the fact that he was carefully avoiding looking at Celty.

"What now?" asked Celty, resigned.

"Oh, Izaya-kun decided he just had to jump on my back during auditions a couple weeks ago. It cracked."

Shinra squinted. "And it still hurts?"

"Well, what do YOU think!?" Shizuo roared, imitating nothing so much as a bellowing T-Rex, rising awkwardly from his crouch. "I fell, and I was just starting to feel better!"

"Definitely hurts," said Shinra nasally, and bit his tongue in concentration as he stared at Shizuo. Shizuo's movements were unbalanced.

"You're staring. Stop that," Shizuo said irritably.

"Oh, come on. You know you can't afford a regular doctor right now," Shinra muttered, still studying Shizuo's stance, and suddenly shot out his arm and stabbed him in just the right muscle.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHH!" Shizuo yelled, flailing, and he jerked forwards to crash over the kitchen sink, breathing hard.

Shinra ducked and skipped behind the kitchen island, barely avoiding Shizuo's involuntary swipe. "You see? No doctor would tolerate that kind of treatment, Shizuo-kun. They'd think you meant it. Lucky you've got me. Now, I think you've sustained an injury to your..." Shinra began chattering in his best medical-speak, weaving around the kitchen, a safe distance away from Shizuo's reach, until Shizuo's eyes glazed over. "Okay, so at the end of it, you need to avoid pulling yourself up with your arms, like this, you see—" Shinra demonstrated pathetically. "Or, you know, no climbing trees, ropes, pulling things from above, et cetera et cetera, are you listening, Shizuo-kun?"

Of course he wasn't.

Shinra bounced on his toes. "Well at any rate, don't do any of that and you'll heal up good as new in three weeks. Aren't you happy, old boy, old pal? Just for comparison, most people would take six months—"

Shizuo growled. "How am I going to stay away from Izaya for three weeks?"

"Oh. Better make it four, then," said Shinra, deflating, and he flung himself into a chair so that it slid backwards and hit the dining table.

Celty sighed, which drew Shizuo's attention to her again.

He dropped his gaze very quickly, and stared at Celty's feet. "You've got your head back," he mumbled, and glanced up. Just once, but looking into her eyes was heady. One glance sent him reeling, almost physically knocked him back and then when he recovered, he realized he was overcome with—with shyness. It made him feel unstable—so anxious—as if he were about to fly into pieces. It was not like his anger, which coldly and ferociously split him apart and oriented the shards of himself in one deadly direction: this was different. No. Shizuo did not understand it, but he knew something inside was close to breaking. His hands began to shake.

And suddenly Shizuo saw it, eyes affixed to the kitchen linoleum floor, in a single image: Celty's face, beaming, but obscured by a wedding veil. The facts that he knew, but hadn't let himself accept. Celty had her head. She was about to be married.

It hadn't been real, before. Although he had passed on Izaya's hints as advice to Celty, he hadn't believed Izaya, not even for a single moment. He hadn't dreamed that Celty would succeed. Celty was always searching and searching for her head. She had no time for anything else. And then she fell in love with Shinra; and that was all right, because she was still searching, she was still restless, and there were times when anyone could sense the raw chasm between them when Shinra's priorities didn't exactly align with Celty's. And then she agreed to marry Shinra, and Shizuo still was not alarmed. Why would, why should, Shizuo be worried? She was still herself, she was still Celty; she couldn't go through with it. But then— And now her head had come back, and there was nothing to keep her from the happiness she had striven for so long. She would change after that. How could anyone not change because of that? She would be happy with Shinra. She would want for nothing, not even—not even—

What would he do without her friendship?

"Aye," Celty broke in softly. "Thanks to you."

It took him a moment to remember that she was alluding to when he had given her the clue that led her to reunite with head.

It was too much. She was too kind, too humble. She raised him up, which only made him feel more panicked, pathetic, insignificant and undeserving in every way. Shizuo's eyes shot back up to meet hers, about to deny it, deny everything, and his face crumpled. "Don't mind me," Shizuo said gruffly, and swiped his eyes. "I had nothing to do with..." His voice trailed away. He hunched over, touched the wall—not leaning, but touching, groping towards something solid that would not fall away.

This was impossible, impossible, impossible.

Celty shook her head slowly.

"I think...I love...your eyes are very beautiful." His own eyes filled with tears, and Shizuo swiped them away, again, with his sleeve, so that he would not have to look into her eyes. He found it hard to breathe, except in silent hiccups. They weren't really hiccups but it was too sad, too crushingly embarrassing to call them dry sobs.

And Celty and Shinra were silent, observing his grief. Although society tried to soften truth and honesty, they felt that nevertheless it was important to respect it. They were confused but somehow unmoved. It didn't quite feel real. The seconds ticked by and they pondered Shizuo's powerful feelings, trying to understand.

Finally, Shinra said, "Would you like some milk?" Lizardlike, Shinra licked his dry lips, tense. At long last he thought he might have a glimmer, and inkling, of what Shizuo was thinking.

"Yes, thank you," said Shizuo faintly, and pressed his hands against his eyes.

"Sit down, then," said Celty, her voice gentle.

"Celty," said Shizuo, and stopped. He could not go on without her encouragement.

"Yes," she said, hesitating.

"I recognize... there's someone I met...someone I met who looks like you." Shizuo's voice was raw, ragged, and bleeding, like red meat oozing on a cafeteria tray. It was surely part animal. All flesh, it could not bear the stress of his words. It stretched, tore, and broke itself apart into pink stringiness until it clogged his throat...

"Yes," said Celty. She affirmed. She, too, had met her. Mika.

"We were in the park, and there was a lover's spat. You were interested in the girl, and I told you to go ahead. I roughed up her boyfriend, after he attacked me," said Shizuo, almost chuckling, and suddenly gasped as new pain and fresh tears pricked his eyes. Hhhheuuh-hhhhehh. "With those pens." Celty remembered. Shinra looked at him strangely, so Heiwajima qualified, "He attacked me with pens, I didn't use them... He kept yelling about his love and his girl and how he had to protect her until I got ticked. I—I told him that he didn't understand love." Oh, that was the least of it. Shizuo crossed his arms in front of his chest, in an X, each hand clasping the opposite shoulder. "Because—because. He understand nothing about that girl. He blindly trusted that fate had brought them together. Nothing could change his mind—no reason, no logic. Just feelings."

"Shizuo," said Celty, and tears sprang in her eyes. Why are you telling me this? But she couldn't ask. It was imperative that she should not ask, so that what was needed to be said would said without obstruction.

His heart would roll out. No it wouldn't. "But I know you. And I understand now. A little."

"Understand what?" said Celty, weaving uneasily on her feet.

Shizuo rocked once on the floor, back and forth, and bit his lip, shredding the top layer of skin. "Why he couldn't, couldn't change his mind. That he was gone. He was too far gone. No matter what their love meant...what the consequences might be, he couldn't deny it..."

Celty's lips parted, and no sound came out. She put her hands over her mouth. How long? she thought, but didn't say, her heart beating wildly. Her breath fluttered against her fingertips. I never knew, never suspected... Him? Me? We were just friends! Her feelings with colored by dismay, and it wasn't a mild feeling at all, but a sharp, persistent one. How can we get over this? And underneath, dismay trapped panic and anxiety over the future.

Shizuo looked at her miserably. Celty, I don't know if I can change this. Even he wasn't sure quite what he was saying. Nor what he wasn't saying. He wanted her, a piece of her, to be his, forever. He had no right, not even to wanting it. Once she married, she would belong to Shinra, and he knew her well enough to know that she would never look back. Shizuo didn't mean to be this way. He never thought his respect for and his friendship with this woman would lead him here. But he was here. Shizuo was...

Abruptly— "I'm sorry," said Celty, quiet but firm. And she said again, "I'm sorry. I can't, I can't, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I can't—" She turned, fled the kitchen, and burst into tears.

Shizuo let her go, numb, and stared at the cup of milk that had been pushed into his hands without his noticing.

"Shizuo-kun, you made my fiancée cry," said Shinra, pushing his glasses up his nose. He was serious, but he kept his voice deceptively casual. "Unforgivable is too strong a word, I think, for almost any circumstance, but to ask me to ignore what you did just now would be nigh impossible, even for me."

Guilt-ridden, Shizuo mumbled an apology, and set down the milk on the counter.

"She's very delicate right now. And you're her best friend, you know," Shinra reproached him. "You should know better."

Shizuo laid his head on the island counter and pounded it with his fists. The napkins that had been piled in the center of the counter scattered. The island's base scraped and screeched on the tiles.

Sighing, Shinra patted Shizuo on the head, something he'd would never have dared to do in almost any other circumstance. But it seemed appropriate. "Yes, well, I forgive you. I daresay you'll make up before long. In fact, I trust that you will, and that's how you'll make it up to me." Shizuo shrugged and swatted away Shinra's hand as gently as he could. Undeterred, Shinra continued, "Shizuo-kun, I was wondering what you came over for."

"Oh, that. To ask if what Izaya said was a trick, or if Celty got her head back," Shizuo said emptily.

"Oh Shizzy-chan." Shinra patted his arm. Shinra was touching him again. He always did that. Didn't he ever learn his lesson? Reluctantly Shizuo decided to let Shinra do his thing, although it made his skin prickle. "You poor confused soul. You'd better fall in love with someone else, hm? How unfortunate. Save yourself the pain and trouble and do it quick."

"Yeah, I know," said Shizuo, and shifted his stance despondently. "Sorry." But it couldn't be helped. One can't control love—only what one does with it. Though he'd try.

Feeling the need to hurry, to leave and lose himself in the ordinariness of life, he got up and felt around in his pocket for his keys; then he knew what he needed to do. They jingled, reminding him of home, and he clasped them in his hand. They were cool, heavy and jagged, making his hands smell like zinc alloy and copper metal. Home.

"Shinra," Shizuo said, and his voice cracked badly, as it hadn't done for many years. "I'll be there at your wedding. I won't see... Anymore. Can't." He waved one hand feebly. "Goodbye. Tell Celty I lo..." He never finished that sentence. While he had been inside, the skies had opened their vaults, dumping water in torrents, a surprise shower. Shizuo opened the door into the pouring rain, and left. The door closed. Water dripped off the handle and trickled down, making a puddle in the waterproof genkan. And for a few seconds, above the sound of water, the sound of a wailing man could be heard before the water swallowed up his voice.

Shinra pushed his glasses up his nose, and worried. Celty wouldn't speak the rest of the evening, but she allowed Shinra to cradle her to his chest while she sat on the couch, thinking.

"Shinra, you know that old man who drew pictures at the edge of the park?" asked Celty upon waking the next morning. It was perhaps the clearest thought she had had since Shizuo's confession.

"Yeah?"

"Let's ask him to come to our wedding."

" ...'Kay."

Shinra had agreed, but he was half asleep at the time. Celty took Shinra to the park, and Shinra bought ice-cream for Celty, not quite remembering why they had come until they turned the corner on the section with the lake fountains and Shinra saw the old man.

"Oh, oh no, oh no," he said.

"Yes way," said Celty firmly.

"It's going to be a small wedding," he said.

"I already invited some extras."

Shinra slid his hands down his lizard-crest hair until they covered his ears. "Oh dear."

"Come off it. We don't know that many people," Celty reminded him.

"Tashikani, both of our families are small," Shinra admitted.

"There, you see? If it makes you feel better, there are only two people I want to invite whom we both don't know that well," said Celty.

"It's just... I have this crawling creepy feeling that the chapel will be chock-full to bursting," said Shinra.

"Have more trust in me," said Celty.

"I know I shouldn't really be afraid of that. It's just not your personality. It just irks me..." Shinra rubbed his neck.

Celty smiled mildly. "So you're the one with the pre-wedding jitters. I rather thought you might. Listen, I'll let you write the formal invitations."

No comment, went Shinra. Is that supposed to be a consolation?

"Ojisan," said Celty, seeing the old sketch artist. She waved as she walked closer. "Long time no see."

"Ohisashiburi," Shinra mumbled, in echo, shadowing Celty.

"Ah. Ah. Sou? Ah! Futari-domo. I didn't know you knew each other," said the old man in surprise.

"Did you bring your sketchbooks, ojisan?"

"Yes, of course. Why?"

Celty tilted her head at Shinra. "My fiancée here says that you had a portrait of a Dullahan you once saw in Ireland. I wanted to see it."

"Of course. Have a look-see." The old man took his notebook from his satchel and opened it, then paged through it to the section he had sketched that day. He handed it to Celty.

"Oh, un. Ah. Utsukushii," she murmured, and touched the pages gently. She felt like she was remembering something. The dress seemed familiar. A lump arose in her throat and tears pricked her eyes.

She had been someone different, then. So long ago.

Shinra touched her shoulder, and she lowered the notebook.

"Are there others?" she asked thickly.

"Yes."

And she looked. There were pages and pages of them. Some different. Some by herself; some with her faithful, midnight-black stallion, the spirit of which had taken hold of a broken black motorbike, and restored it to life.

"Do none of them have their heads?" Celty asked.

The old man shook his head. "I tried, but I never could manage it. It didn't look right. One day your fiancée stopped by and we had a little disagreement about that, actually..."

Shinra nodded, his face inscrutable.

"I believe he thought she was better without a head," he continued.

Shinra winced, and Celty tugged his hair, to show she had no hard feelings. "But you never—" Shinra choked out.

"No—except—a week ago—" the old man hesitated. Then he decided and plunged into his satchel to bring out a folder of mismatched pages; he drew out the one closest to the front, and handed it to them. Celty held it gently, but she still creased it slightly.

It was her...and her head. It was different. It was her, in her leather jumpsuit, with her yellow cat-helmet tucked under her left arm, and her head cradled tenderly and securely in her right.

"It wasn't like the other ones. I was confused because it was so different, and I was finally able to draw the head. I don't know why, still don't. I was so impassioned that day, I couldn't help it—I just drew. And then I forgot about it, I'm ashamed to say. Until I saw you today and you asked that question...it's you, isn't it?"

Celty nodded.

"Gomenasai," said the old man. "I never thought..."

"It's not your fault," Celty sighed. "People remember me. But I thought you might want some answers."

"Thank you," said the old man.

"Come to our wedding," said Celty, and the two of them faded away, as the old man replied, "I will. Come find me."

Author's Note: Yes, I know how long it's been since I've posted. Sorry. Summer ended, and college started, and my inarticulate beta lives in Africa, so you could say that Life got in the way.

Poor Shizuo. Was it too dramatic? He feels things very acutely. But then, so does everyone in my stories... *evil laugh* But don't worry. All he wants to do is the "right thing."

Read, yonde, and REVIEW-shite kudasai. I'll write faster. I hope.

+ Recently edited for chronology and minor flaws.