Break #10: Wedding Day Travails and the Sharpest of Memories
In her wedding dress, Celty could have been a queen. Against tradition, she had chosen the color black, at Shinra's request; he said he couldn't imagine her in any other color. Against that color, the gentle blue-green eyes that gazed out of her face appeared serene and otherworldly.
Celty liked her wedding dress because it was a conservative, though rather expensive and decadent, like a costume piece. Its style featured a long neck, which meant she could forgo the scarf, and it made the veil look like it belonged there. The sleeves were long and so was the dress, but there wasn't much train. It looked deceptively simple. The material: chiffon, damask, crinoline, muslin. The blackness of the cloth ranged from pure, almost velvet, to a dark bluish-grey smoke.
Shinra couldn't have put any of that into words. What he saw was beauty itself, and that could not be described.
In the church wings somewhere, Shinra and Celty were waiting, passing every agonizing minute waiting for the ceremony to finally start.
"Did you recognize everyone in the church?"
"Just about."
"There's more people here than I thought there would be. What do you think, thirty or so?"
"Uh-huh. Your mother?"
"Yes, she's here."
"You want to talk to her?"
Shinra shrugged, a little uncomfortably. "Maybe later. That she came..."
Celty gripped his elbow.
"...That's enough. I think. For now."
Celty's hand slipped; Shinra snagged her hand and held it.
"Are you ready?"
"I am. Yes."
"Let's go," said Celty, but they lingered. Shizuo and Shingen walked in and they broke apart suddenly. Celty sighed a little. Shingen was, ever obstinate, still wearing his lab coat. But at least they had convinced him to take off the face mask for the ceremony; that was a victory in itself.
Shinra crossed to Shingen's side. "Is mother...?"
"Waiting," Shingen replied, quietly. "Come."
And Celty and Shizuo were left alone. Consciousness of the fact came suddenly, as a shock that made them both start a little.
Celty had trouble meeting Shizuo's eyes. But it was all right, because Shizuo was not seeking hers.
"Here we are," Celty whispered.
"Yes. Are you ready?"
"I am," she said, and her reply was resolute. She did not need to say another word.
"Good," Shizuo said, his voice as low it could go. Unexpectedly, something in Shizuo relaxed, for Celty was completely sure about her decision. Something that had been knocked loose, that had been ricocheting around his heart and causing all kinds of havoc, dropped back into place. He couldn't analyze it and make out quite what it was, but it stabilized him.
Shinra had been right. Everything would be fine. It was entirely possible that in time, they could go back to being friends again, even if the form it took was different. The thought almost made him dizzy with relief.
Namie, in her bridesmaid dress, appeared in the doorway. "It's time," she said.
Shinra's mother dressed in all red. Not alarmingly so, not like a seductress or adulteress at all, which was what Celty had been half-expecting. She wore a large, wide-brimmed red hat. Not that it was all red; the translucent parts could have been mistaken for pink. Her dress, which was a two piece, of a scarf, a blouse, and a modest pencil skirt: dark red, carefully modest, with an airy, breezy flower motif that did not shout either youth or respected age. She wore nylon hose—a brownish red. It was so unprovocative as to seem deliberate. If it was possible, this use of red was almost—unabashed, yet subdued, almost to the point of penitence.
Most unlike the color.
It was almost like a silent message.
The face under the wide-brimmed hat was pretty, but not young. When she sat on the bench and took off her hair, it was plain to see that her hair, put up primly and properly, was streaked with white. Her expression—unreadable; but perhaps a little too composed. Her hands moved restlessly, but the compulsive fidgeting was almost unnoticable because she moved them so slowly and smoothly. She looked somber.
Celty watched her. She was the only one who appeared especially anxious. Celty was pretty sure it was not anxiety about the wedding itself and concern over whether it would work out on Shinra's behalf, however, but more likely her attentuated attachments to her son and her ex-husband and what it meant that she was sitting there, in the place of family, a place she hadn't occupied in a long time.
Celty wondered whether she would like her if she got to know her. Whatever her personal decisions had been, she seemed like a thoughtful person, perhaps even overly considerate. Sharp, as well, and courageous; she must have been, for having dealt with Shingen for any length of time when she was still young.
During the ceremony, Izaya and Shizuo stood so stiffly in their places that sometimes Celty wondered if they were trying to imitate wax statues. Luckily she could still see them breathing or she might have worried.
Kadota was supposed to be the best man, standing between them, but he came down with the flu at the last minute. It was winter season after all; these things happened. He was profusively apologetic. Shinra seized up with dread when he heard the news and hung up the phone.
After a brief consultation with Celty, he put Izaya in Kadota's place and hoped for the best. Shinra didn't doubt that Izaya could make some fine speeches on the fly if he had to—and it seemed that was what would happen—but he was a little worried about what Izaya would say.
However, Izaya quite efficiently put Shinra's concerns to rest. He still owed a debt to Shinra, he said, that he had yet to repay. It was not impossible for him to curb his tongue if Shinra wished him to and pay the proper compliments for the sake of appearances. And so Shinra threw up his hands and gave up control of whatever came next.
Now it all came down to whether he could get along with Shizuo.
About a third of the way through the service, Izaya lost his balance and stumbled backwards into Shizuo. From where Shinra was standing, he didn't think it was on purpose—and he could see Izaya's eyes, which were wide with surprise—but Shizuo wouldn't think that. Of course.
From then on Izaya and Shizuo kept up a quiet game of Nudge-Nudge-Wink-Scowl. Shizuo was inclined to mess up and actually scowl, but for the most part nobody in the audience could see why...and chalked it up to something else. Nudge-Nudge-Wink-Wink.
Namie glared daggers at Izaya whenever he escalated the situation. To his credit, when Izaya noticed this, he did try to shape up.
"...Will you in peaceful times, during sickness, protecting fidelity until death, love this person, respect this person, comfort person, help this person, fulfill these promises?"
"Yes, I so swear."
... "Yes, I so swear."
They looked into each other's eyes, and saw the promise there. The will to do so had been in them for a while, but given words on this day, the weight of that vow hovered between them, nearly visible, nearly corporeal.
Shizuo was so tall that he always had to lean over to fit into the wedding photos, and unfortunately the person he usually happened to lean over was Izaya. Of course. For once, Izaya was slightly more irritated by this than Shizuo was. Izaya impatiently tapped his foot long and loudly enough during the photo shoots to wake the underworld.
This made the picture-taking last quite a bit longer than it ought to have. By the end of it Celty thought that her smile was probably as runny as melted ice-cream. It kept slipping away, down the bottom of her face.
When the pictures were over, Celty's smile snapped into place as if it had never been struggling. Shinra blinked.
"I'm NOT smiling," she muttered to herself. "Why aren't I smiling?"
"I think the image of your mental image of your face isn't representing itself to your head very well, dear," Shinra said. "If that makes sense. I could try to explain but I'd sound even more confused."
"Oh, gods, you heard me!"
"Hey, relax. You did fine. Anyway, actually, traditionally speaking, everyone is supposed to look a bit dour in wedding photos, out of superstition."
"What kind of stupid superstitious memories are those?" Celty glared at him, perhaps thinking that he was teasing her. "Am I doing something wrong?" she demanded.
"No, not at all, which is what I was trying to tell you. What a lovely face. Look, even those two are doing fine now," Shinra said hastily, trying to distract her.
"Please, kiss me before I start hyperventilating," Celty muttered crossly, rubbing her arms. Still—a slight flush appeared on her cheeks, and her expression gradually relaxed to something more natural.
Shinra snickered. That method, indeed, would probably work wonders. When they happened to be in a more private corner, which happened a little faster than he thought it would, thanks to Celty and her blessed smoke-shadows, he complied.
It was a little better at the reception. Izaya went to Shinra's right, and Shizuo to Celty's left, almost as if they had been assigned there. They almost sort of had—would have been—if Celty had actually thought about it... She didn't expect Namie to sit on Izaya's right, either, but it seemed to help. Whether he realized it or not, Izaya censored his worst tendencies around her; and whenever he made a mistake, she corrected him.
Shinra made his speech, which was absolutely golden, and passed out anecdotes and compliments about the newlyweds with flying colors. Somehow he made it seem as if he wasn't being ironic. Still, as Izaya was Izaya, everyone who knew him wondered.
Oh well. All in all, everything had gone rather smoothly so far. And it wasn't like anything better could have been hoped for, with Kadota under the weather. Although, doubtless, Kadota's stories would not have been as entertaining or as colorful as Izaya's.
Oh, and also, Shingen wasn't sitting next to his ex-wife, but then Celty hadn't expected him to. She simply noticed.
"Shall we dance?" Shinra asked. "To open the festivities?"
"By all means," Celty murmured. "And afterwards, we'll open the wine."
"Sounds like a plan."
"I think your cake was better than the reception's."
"Flatterer. Is the catered food really that bad? I feel sorry for our guests, then," Celty teased. Then she leaned close, brushing her lips past his ear. "But I'm glad you think so."
Shinra cheeks flamed a delicate red.
Celty politely declined a dance with Shingen. Shingen sank into the seat next to hers as if he had expected that, and made conversation that passed for reasonably sane. It was perhaps the most enjoyable conversation they had ever had. It was this that distracted her from the fact that Shinra had drifted over to talk to his mother. And then she noticed.
"Will they be all right?" Celty asked him, her eyes distant.
Shingen chuckled and looked over to where she was looking. "Who can say? Sometimes, the truth hurts. Sometimes the medicine is bitter. Sometimes, it's difficult to swallow the pill. Healing skin itches. At times, if the patient isn't complaining, they might be in trouble."
"Would it be all right...for me, to, to..." Celty asked hesitantly.
"Go ahead," said Shingen. "They just needed some time."
"Don't you...?"
"No, we worked out our differences a long time ago. It may not look like it, but we are resolved."
"But Shinra didn't? Wasn't?"
"No. He just bore the hurt, in silence. He was young and resilient when it happened. Ever since, I was waiting for him to ask...but he accepted my word for everything. You know how he was. As the years went by I was the one who forgot, because he didn't act like it mattered. And then he asked, because of the wedding, and suddenly I remembered that I had been waiting."
"And she accepted that?"
"She felt guilty for ending it with me. More so because of Shinra. She couldn't bear it. So neither did she ask."
"I see." Celty looked at her hands.
Shingen reached to lay a hand on her shoulder. Celty soundly smacked his fingers away without ceremony. Shingen flexed his hand, feeling the sting, and chuckled. "Ah, I am glad Shinra chose a feisty woman."
"Oh really? You've never acted like it," Celty muttered, rolling her eyes. "Are you quite sure a modest, demure, fairy-like girl wouldn't suit him better?" But she was joking, and Shingen knew it.
Shingen chuckled again.
Celty stood up and crossed to the floor where Shinra and his mother were sitting.
"Ah, Celty," said Shinra, looking preoccupied. "This is my mother."
His mother slowly raised her head. "How do you do?" she asked.
"Very well," Celty replied, and hastily made her greetings.
"Shinra was telling me about you. It seems he chose well. But perhaps you could have done differently?" Shinra's mother asked tentatively.
"I—" Celty was caught off guard. "I didn't set off to marry him, if that's what you mean. It feels like I was resisting him for forever. I haven't given up anything, I don't think. I gained something. So what else could I have done?"
"Good," Shinra's mother sighed. "It is well that you do not repeat my mistakes. I cannot really object to what my son has chosen, absent as I have been, but if I may, I think he chose well. It brings relief."
Celty also felt relief, of a slightly different kind. With as much composure as she could muster, she ventured, "If I may...might I know your name?"
"Shukufu," Shinra's mother answered immediately. "Shukufu Koorihashi is my maiden name."
"Koorihashi-san," Celty said experimentally.
"Yes. 'Koorihashi' as in, 'broken bridge.'"
"Have you caught up?" Celty faltered. "With Shinra, that is."
"Yes. I did it properly." She smiled.
"Shinra?"
"It is well," Shinra replied, a bit absently. "Mother, we'll keep in touch." Shinra reached out and squeezed Koorihashi's hand tightly for a second, and then let go.
"Thank you, my son," she said, and they left.
"You don't mind, do you?" Shinra asked once they were out of earshot.
"Mind what?"
"Another parent coming into our lives."
"Not at all. I think I would like to get to know Koorihashi-san better," Celty said quietly. "She seems genial and unassuming. Maybe even wise."
"Yes. I thought you might think so. But I needed to ask."
"I had no idea that you had this ache inside you. This is peculiar timing, to say the least, but I suppose if you are happy about it, I am too."
Shinra smiled wistfully. "I hid it well. To tell the truth, I also...forgot. I remembered her, but pursuing her felt like an unattainable dream, for a long time, something I couldn't even ask for, until the wedding happened and I came to my senses."
"Shinra?"
"What?" He turned back to her.
"I'm just curious, but...was there...anything that needed to be forgiven?"
"Of course. Nothing more than the usual complaints of abandoned children. But, more than that...I'm just glad she's back. We can tackle those things in time. I don't want to make her upset. Goodness, she acts guilty enough for three people. How could I hurt her with accusations? I don't know what was running through her mind back then. We've only just met, after a long time."
Celty suddenly linked arms with him and squeezed him closer. "Then I'm glad."
"As am I," said Shinra, wrapping his other arm around her for a quick hug.
Anri, Mikado and Masaomi behaved themselves impeccably. When it came time to present gifts, they admitted that they didn't have the cash to make a full and proper present for each of them, but all three together had scrounged for the right amount as a group. They were quite proud of themselves. Celty was surprised by their sincere effort, and was quite touched, though Shinra didn't blink an eye. Once Masaomi dragged them all out there, they semed to be having fun on the edges of the dance floor. The warmth in Celty's heart always grew when she watched them.
The rest of the Ikebukuro people sought her out one by one. Celty spent time talking to each of them and finding out a little more of who they were. They, along with the kids, were the first to leave the party, but Celty was grateful for the chance to talk to them.
The foreign woman mostly wanted to express her appreciation for the invitation and the experience she had in coming. Celty was glad she had enjoyed herself. Just in case another opportunity to meet came up, they exchanged contact information. It was then that Celty remembered something; she told the woman about the naginata classes she and Namie had been attending, and the woman seemed keenly interested.
The old man had made copies of almost his entire art portfolio. He gave the lot to an astonished Celty, who took them graciously.
"I won't be drawing you anymore," he said. "You may as well have the originals as well, but I thought you might not accept them. In any case, these ones have been cleaned up, so they are not as raw."
Celty shook her head vigorously. "No, it's all right, I don't mind. You don't have to go that far!"
"The compulsion has left me, that's all," said the old man. "Now I can draw whatever I want." He smiled. "A prettier albeit unlikely muse I couldn't have asked for. Because of you, I practiced until I had trained a real talent. I owe my profession to you and your inspiration."
Celty denied it, but he was adamant. "I can do great things now. I know it. When I accomplish something, I'll make sure you know," he insisted. "You'll be one of the first to have a look."
The Blue-Squares looked a bit glum about Kadota's absence, but they also seemed to be trying hard to have a good time to honor their memory of the occasion. For them, the typical way this went was to discuss obscure anime topics of all kinds and relive the greatest fan shipping wars and debates until they gave up and started singing their favorite show tunes.
"Uragiri no yuuyake / yakkai ni (mhmhmhee) ase wo..." Walker sang softly. "...MASHIN wa sakebu utau youni / BLOW UP LOUD / Mukachi na yousei wa soko ni iru / BLOW UP LOUDER / Tsuganai wa kudaketa ai no kakera / aaaahhhh—!"
"What's that from?" asked Togusa. "It sounds ill-fated. But pretty. And mysterious."
"I have no idea. Or this one either: 'Kagirinaku hirogaru / masshiro na ashita ni / nani wo egaku / (Whooah, whoah, whoa!) / Genjitsu ga shimeyuku / makkura na ashita ni / nani wo egaku / Mogaki kagayaku...' " Walker tapped the beat on the table.
"Hopeful? Maybe?" Togusa shook his head. "At least open-ended about the future. Which we have the power to change. I have no idea. Wait a sec, I might have a handle. 'Aaah, asahi wo noboru / BIRU no tanima / Ima shinjireba, kawaru no sa / Muimi ja nai ano yume wo..."
"That's the first song. That part's lyrics are a little like the second, though, if you think about it," said Walker. "Thematically, they're similar."
"Right." Togusa grimaced. He had a good memory for music, but he always felt (mistakenly) that he was no good at the game since his background was more broadly jazz and Jpop than specifically anime.
Erika piped up. "Oh, I've also got one stuck in my head that I can't place. Kind of similar thoughts. 'Konna jidai niwa / Yume ga aru no kana? / Sonna kuchiguse wa iya kita kedo / Zutto warubuttekita tsumori dakedo / Saikin sore sae mo munashiku naru nda...' "
Togusa shook his head. "Eerily enough, that almost seems to apply to us..." He looked a little green. "Like it's talking about what we're trying to find out by joining the Dollars."
They all became strained and drawn, and quiet. It wasn't, precisely, a happy thought.
"Do you remember anything else?" asked Togusa, politely.
'Bokura wa jiyuu da, hikari wo motomeru, tatoeba chou no you...' " She made a face. "I can't remember any more. It's horrible..."
"So... a lyric about butterflies. Like a mind worm, except maybe it's a mind caterpillar," Walker offered, oh-so-helpfully. "Trying to break out of that chrysalis you call 'your brain.' " Walker wiggled his mindsucking alien fingers. Woo-woo.
Erika giggled. "Don't start!"
Walker simply grinned and started spinning stories out of thin air. In this case was doing a stellar job of smashing together fate and physics and Chinese philosophy and zombies and the butterfly leitmotif into one huge and thrilling tall tale. This was his secret skill, the reason why he was assured that he had the talent to be a novelist. If only the plots made sense. Every once in a while, Togusa interjected to steer him back on track, because otherwise Walker's stories gave him headaches with all the questions he'd left unresolved. And Walker's story would keep on marching on...
A couple hours later, a tipsy Erika (which, mercifully, did take a while, though she drank like a fish) babbled incomprehensibly about yaoi and fangirling and giggled at inappropriate intervals. What any observer would have heard was "Shizuo...kee-kh-kee...Celty..." or squeals about 'Shizaya,' an unlikely but very hot and sexy beast (apparently). She wasn't terribly explicit (luckily); the implications were bad enough. Walker moaned every time she said anything particularly ridiculous, which was a lot. At one point Walker playfully tied her mouth shut with an entire string of paper crepe he found lying around. In the five seconds of blessed silence after he secured the makeshift gag, Erika had chewed up the crepe, spat it out, and given Walker a reproachful look. Then she went right back to babbling.
It was quite harmless, really, and nobody ever took her seriously. Which was just how it should be.
It was past midnight, and nobody who was still around could think straight anymore.
"Dancing. No. Not gonna do it!" Izaya protested, looking more and more alarmed by the minute. Shinra was pressuring him. Namie watched him through narrowed eyes.
Shinra tugged Izaya's sleeve in a way that Izaya had come to really hate over the years. "C'mon, you did the karaoke thing with him at the grooms/bridesmaid wedding planning party..."
"We tried to DROWN EACH OTHER OUT! Remember?! Shinra? You were very annoyed with me afterwards!"
"C'mon! Please?" Shinra begged.
"Why are you being so—? If I go along with your utterly unreasonable, incomprehensible, self-contradictory demands will you promise me you won't be put out?" Izaya glanced across the table and grasped at straws for inspiration. "Does Celty know about this?" Fridge logic, but in a pinch... Izaya gulped, waiting for Shinra's answer.
"It'll be fun," said Shinra with a wobbly smile before he collapsed to the table. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her..."
"Oh, Shinra, she's right there," Izaya replied, and tried — and failed — to get control of himself. For goodness' sake, he thought, and slammed his hands on the table. Then he took deep, deep breaths, nearly venting steam through his nostrils, looking for all the world like a Chinese dragon with very, very wide eyes. "Fine. I'll do it. If he agrees."
Shinra smiled and nodded, but he hadn't really comprehended.
Whose idea was it not to drink tonight... Oh yes, Shizuo's... Just in case it lowered their guards enough that they started fighting. Which had been wise at the time and was probably quite wise now. But it wasn't helping, at this rate, because it'll happen anyway.
Izaya nervously met Shizuo's eyes across the table, and clenched his teeth. Then he squared his shoulders and opened his mouth and prepared to do the unthinkable. "THE GROOM SAYS," Izaya said loudly, e-nun-ci-at-ing his displeasure, "That he would like to see us dance."
"No," Shizuo rejected the suggestion immediately with the slightest of jerks of his head.
"Oh-thank-god," said Izaya, and he plopped straight down into his seat, feeling slightly winded. Not tonight, of all nights. Shinra will kill me if I mess up his wedding. He was serious for once. And I still owe him from middle school.
Namie gripped his shoulder, her silent signal for damage control. He could become cool again if he could just think another minute... Breathe deep. This won't last. Don't get worked up.
But Izaya's reprieve didn't last long. At the other end of the table, Celty stirred. Izaya thought she had been asleep but apparently she had heard something of what was going on. "Oh, go on, it'll be fun," she mumbled. "Just this once."
Shizuo was appropriately shocked and horrified, and Izaya saw it. Izaya pulled free of Namie's grip and leapt to his feet again, tensed as if he had been shocked with a live wire. "Oh no, oh no, oh no no no, oh no... I promised Shinra that I wouldn't provoke anything—"
But that shock and horror was quickly turning into something else. Something potentially more sinister. "Oh, why not," said Shizuo, dangerously, as Izaya had known he would, because Celty had encouraged him. His eyes were lit with that particular beastly fire that nobody else had. "It's not like we ever do anything else. And they asked for it." Shizuo jerked his head at Shinra and Celty, who had fallen back into half-awakeness.
"There is a world of difference between fighting and dancing," Izaya objected, scowling, because in any other circumstances he would have been the one insisting on the other way around.
"Not really," said Shizuo.
"THAT'S the problem!" Izaya hissed, scathingly.
"Oh quit your whining. You just contradicted yourself. It's unbecoming for a small-time informant. We'll get this over with." Shizuo grabbed Izaya's wrist and dragged him to the dance floor. Izaya winced in pain and stumbled along. He could get himself out of almost anything else, but Shizuo's grip was nigh unbreakable.
Normally Izaya would pick this moment to draw his knife, start slashing, and get some distance between the two of them, but Shinra had confiscated all of Izaya's knives before the wedding reception, probably in anticipation of something like this. He had his one spare left, a tiny blade that he had started carrying tucked into the lining of his right shoe, just in case the his old enemies or the yakuza came for him one day, but with Shizuo dragging him around there was simply no chance of getting it out. Dammit! Izaya hated being whittled down to his emergency resources, and he hated it doubly because those emergency resources were so hard to extract. Even in emergencies.
"You're going to give me a sprain," Izaya grunted, throwing his weight in the exact opposite direction from Shizuo's. If Shizuo's grip wouldn't do it, maybe he could give himself one and get out of this...
"But at least we're not fighting," Shizuo pointed out, not in the least inconvenienced. "I promised. You promised. So if you are not going to fight me, then I suggest you cooperate."
"Aaaargh—" Izaya growled, still struggling.
Shizuo adjusted his grip on Izaya's wrists, picked him up, and sent him flying through the air. It felt supremely good, as much because Shizuo finally had a little edge on Izaya as for the delight and satisfaction he got from letting his muscles work at peak capacity. "Because as long as Celty doesn't get upset at me, I really, really don't care," Shizuo said, sounding bored, as he spun Izaya in a circle, who immediately began yelling at him out of mingled surprise and desperation. "And this is her special day."
After the second revolution Izaya clamped his jaw shut and stopped screaming at him, but only to preserve his dignity as best he could. There wasn't bloody much left at this point. He just held on.
Shizuo couldn't help it. He had to laugh at the grim, twisted face Izaya was making. It was so funny.
Here and now, he could use his entire strength without fear of consequences, he thought, for he was amazed, grand, drunk on his own sheer power. What an expression Izaya had! It was all the more absurd because right now Shizuo didn't have a reason to hurt Izaya. And he wouldn't. That he had decided on. But of course Izaya didn't know that, he didn't even suspect it. He still expected Shizuo to hurt him at the earliest opportunity. But there was really nothing for Izaya to be afraid of. It was all in his head.
He smiled at the thought, and abruptly, suddenly, the whole situation became hilarious for Shizuo. What began as a hiccup of slight hysteria turned into a full gale of cackling laughter that he couldn't stop. (Izaya blinked spittle out of his eyes and grimly reflected on the titanic strength of Shizuo's lungs, which, he judged sourly, were just as inhuman as the rest of him.)
It was so simple, thought Shizuo, whirling around with an absolutely loopy, dopey grin on his face. Why hadn't Shizuo figured this out years before? He could choose, he could be free, and it was wonderful. Izaya didn't know everything about him, and never would. He couldn't!
Shizuo kept his strength in check, testing his limits, drawing back when he felt he approached loss of control. When he had finished flinging Izaya around, he lifted him up and set him on the ground as lightly as a feather. Before Izaya could regain his senses, he whisked him into a quick, sinuous, twining swing dance, forcing Izaya to stumble through the steps after him. Shizuo's height was in his favor; Izaya never could get the leverage he needed to wrench his hands out of Shizuo's firm grip or stall his momentum. Izaya's pride meant that rather than making himself look silly while digging his heels when he couldn't possibly win gracefully, Izaya gave up resistance. More than that: he did everything perfectly, efficiently, smoothly.
But the dance had to end. When Izaya saw his chance to break free, he took it. It was rather like felling a tree; to him, the maneuver was just as dangerous, but he was desperate. At a weak point in the dance, he hooked his left leg around Shizuo's and sent them both crashing to the ground, Shizuo on the bottom and Izaya on top. Nobody could say he liked being in that position: as powerful as it looked, realistically, it was still too vulnerable. Izaya leapt to his feet and scrambled away as quick as his shaking legs could take him while Shizuo slowly pulled himself up to his knees, and then to his feet.
Once out of reach, Izaya lost his balance and stumbled back, back and back. When he hit the wall, he stuck out an arm and let it support him—if only he could keep standing. He gulped for breath and his whole body shook, from the tips of his toes to the extent of his fingers.
If he didn't calm down soon, strong stomach or not, he thought he was going to puke. If he didn't fall over. Which meant sugar was in order, he thought, deliriously. Blood sugar. Hahaha. Time for cake. Yes, he'd make Namie get some. This had not happened to him in years, in years, although he clearly remembered having had this feeling of—of aftershock.
He was so focused on patching up the frazzled ends of himself that he almost forgot to pay attention to what Shizuo was doing. Then Izaya looked for him surreptitiously. Why hadn't he approached yet?
Shizuo caught his gaze. He didn't step forward. He just bowed to his partner.
When he straightened, before gala looked away, Izaya thought Shizuo's golden eyes looked almost—cool. Speculative. Not angry, not desperate, not cornered. He had the correct emotional distance. He was looking at Izaya, and he had gotten his thinking straight. No way. That's not what was supposed to happen then. Whenever they met eyes, Shizuo was supposed to go out of his freaking mind.
Had the power Izaya had wielded over him ever since high school completely waned? Where was that effortless mind control, that ability he had to perfectly deduce what Shizuo was thinking and what he would do next? Something had changed. Yes, this had been a mistake. He had known it from the beginning. How big, Izaya didn't know.
After a moment, Izaya bowed back, for the sake of appearances. Then he turned and scraped his way off the slippery floor. Namie wordlessly tucked his coat around his shoulders when he dropped back into his seat at the table. It was a sign of how throughly beaten Izaya had been that he forgot to complain, snap, and argue with her about the totally unnecessary show of sympathy. Except it wasn't entirely...unnecessary. And it had been rather subtle. He huddled in his seat and said nothing. He heard a chair scrape back, forward—that was Shizuo, sitting down. No, Izaya wouldn't look at him. In between Izaya and Shizuo, Celty and Shinra were snoring.
Shizuo had unnerved Izaya in a way no one else had done in all his years of life, in a way that was purposely, emphatically non-violent. It was no less than he deserved, Izaya reflected, for having done the same to Shizuo week after week for the past couple of years. And yet, for all that, his shock was all the more disquieting.
But if he just sat there thinking, he was going to collapse for sure. "Namie," Izaya hissed an order in her ear. "I'm exhausted. Need cake. And the strawberry punch. Hurry!"
Namie, shocked, did exactly as he asked without fuss.
Izaya forced himself to put every bite his mouth and chew slowly. When he couldn't eat, he drank something. He consumed until his fingers stopped shaking quite so badly, and the hollow feeling inside had gone. When he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, he unsteadily laid down his fork and fell asleep. There were three hours left until Shizuo and Namie left on their honeymoon.
Celty propped her eyes open. "Lovely theatrics out there."
"Yeah," Shinra said beside her. "Quite beautiful. Who do you think they are?"
"They look an awful lot like..."
"Naw. It can't be..."
"But wouldn't that be spectacular. Doesn't this seem like a dream?"
"Yes."
"Working together like that. It would be marvelous."
"Yes."
"Just for us..."
"Ha, ha, ha. As if...how could that ever happen...?"
Celty and Shinra snuggled together, eyes drifting shut. Celty never quite realized what it was they had started. And they probably would never be told, either. Namie didn't feel like enlightening them.
Was this a good thing? Was this really a good thing? Namie suddenly felt nauseous. Sick worry landed a seed in the pit of her stomach, refusing to be uprooted as easily as a common garden weed.
Because as she watched, the more concerned she became. It almost felt like the cat-and-mouse game that Izaya and Shizuo always played had been irrevocably changed. It had not been just a dance. Their roles had changed places. This might look like business was normal, it might have looked better than that—nothing destroyed, no one hurt, but—Namie gripped her seat—she was quite sure. Nothing would be the same. When things changed, the situation would destabilize. In the short run, yes, peace had won. But in the end? People would get hurt.
But that was inevitable.
Namie gritted her teeth and endured, watching the dancers with focused, calculating eyes. If she had to intervene, she would. All she wanted right now was for Izaya to come back in one piece, unhurt.
"Who did we leave in charge of the getaway car?" asked Shinra.
"Uh. Shizuo, I think," Celty replied.
Shinra squinted at the car. "What did he do to it?"
"Wrote on it. In neon colors."
"Yeah, but I don't recognize..."
Celty patted Shinra's shoulder. "It's in English. They borrowed an American wedding tradition."
"English. English. Oh! I see!" Shinra quickly dismissed it from his mind. To him, the meaning wasn't all that important. The only English he found memorable was related to his scientific discipline.
Celty smile was a little weak. The words were, she guessed, a message to her. They looked cool and all that... Did Shizuo forget that she could read Japanese, Gaelic and English?
The back window said, "FOR THE WOMAN WHO HAD TO LOSE HER HEAD TO MARRY A DOCTOR. EXCEPT THEN SHE FOUND IT AGAIN. REMEMBER ME. HAVE A HAPPY HONEYMOON. 3. XOXO. LUCK. BREAK A LEG. HAHA. NO, PLEASE DON'T REALLY, YOU'RE MORE THAN STRONG ENOUGH ALREADY AND THAT METHOD DOESN'T USUALLY WORK THAT WAY FOR MOST PEOPLE. STAY SAFE." The rest of the car was spattered with the usual Engrish, almost as camouflage: HAVE A LOVELY STAY IN VERY MERRY MARRY PARADISE. ENJOY VITAMIN JUICE AND LUCKY FOURLEAF CLOVER IN GREEN GREEN MACHINE IRELAND. MAKE PEACE & TRU LUVV IN LUXURIOUS EMERALD ISLANDS LIKE BAHAMAS.
How ... conspicuous.
She read the Engrish again, just for kicks, to make sure she understood everything. Emerald islands like bahamas. She almost busted a gut trying to keep from laughing. Let me tell you, one island is not as good as another... As all good Japanese people should know!
"It comes off with water," said Shizuo, coming up from behind her. He was so silent, she hadn't heard his footsteps.
"Oh," Celty said faintly. "Are you sure you weren't supposed to conveniently forget to tell us that? That's how pranks are, right?"
He looked down at her. "Too late now. I'll hose it off after you get to the airport, if you like."
"Thanks, please. Tell me neither Shinra nor Izaya can read it..."
Shizuo bit his lip. "Shinra, no. Though I wouldn't put it past Izaya." He hadn't thought about that before. In an instant, worry and guilt streaked across his face. It had been a weird message.
Celty rubbed her aching head. "At least I'll be gone for half a year. He'll have forgotten."
"Probably," Shizuo agreed, relaxing a little. "I have a present for you."
"What is it?"
"It's in the car. You'll find it, eventually."
"It's not too expensive, is it? Don't test me. Please."
Shizuo turned away. "It's just something to remember me by, not to make you fall in love with me. Because I love you. And I need to let go of you. It's like...what would you call it? My tribute of surrender."
"Shizuo..."
"Celty, I do things my own way. Kind of. It was my brother Kasuka's idea, really. Take it. I want to go back to being friends. This is the promise I've made to get over myself. If possible, I'm going to find someone else to fall in love with while you're gone. I promise I'll clear things up with Shinra if I put you in a bad place."
"Don't make promises like that." Celty twisted her fingers and looked down at the ground. "About finding love. It's not a thing to be hurried, or timed. It's no good under pressure." She looked up at him. "...Okay? I want to go back to being friends, too."
Shizuo nodded assent.
Shinra got in and started the car, and started yelling incomprehensibly, at least until he started laughing and coughing at the same time. He turned the key again and let the car die.
"What else did you do?" Celty queried, curious.
But Shizuo pressed his lips together and shook his head. He didn't know.
"CONFETTI! Dammit!" Shinra punched the wheel of the car and made it honk, making everyone jump. "Why why why why why why why...! There's this cloud of confetti coming out of the air vents! What if that paper makes something fry?" Machinery has never been Shinra's strong point. Celty tittered behind her hand.
"That must have been Izaya," Shizuo said immediately.
"Was it?" Shinra lurched out of the car. "He loves to prank me, almost as much as you, but not quite, obviously..."
Bang. That was the reception hall door slamming shut. "Actually, it was Namie's idea," Izaya drawled, walking towards the car. "But I instituted it. She thought it was cute. I thought it was suitably annoying. What do you think? Are we both right? Or what?" He crossed his arms, looking smug. But he also looked tired. He had probably only gotten a few hours of sleep.
Celty made a face at Izaya and deliberately kissed Shinra on the forehead. In a low voice for only Shinra to hear, she said, "Don't worry, I can take care of the confetti. When the celebration is over."
"How—?" Shinra blinked at her.
"Magic," she said simply. Celty let a curl of smoke escape from her fingers.
Shinra got it. "Ah. Of course."
Shizuo cleared his throat. "I'll be taking you back to the apartment to get changed. Then I'll drive you to the airport. Sound good?"
"We're honeymooning in Ireland," said Shinra, as if everyone didn't know, as if it was still a dream to him. Which it probably was.
She smiled anyway. "Ireland," Celty echoed. "Sounds nostalgic. Like returning back to an old home. Do you think I'll have outgrown it? Shinra?"
He shrugged and grinned, goofily. "Won't know 'till we go find out, will we?"
The newlyweds got in the car, and Shizuo drove them away. Namie and Izaya stood back on the blacktop and waved goodbye.
Izaya turned back to the reception hall and sighed. "Why does the best man have to clean up after the party? Where's Kadota when I need him?" he complained.
Namie rolled her eyes. "Admit it, you liked giving the speeches."
Izaya shrugged.
"Tell me, were you serious or not?" she asked him.
Izaya shrugged again. "95% of the time? The facts were all true, anyway."
"And your opinions?"
Izaya raised an eyebrow. "One way of looking at things. If I chose to adopt that view."
Namie walked away. Turning in slow circles, she pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. Then she stopped. "And the dance?" she asked, turning slowly. This was the question that really rested on thin ice.
Izaya's lips thinned. He whipped around and wrenched open the reception hall doors. Eyes dark, he said, "Let's get busy. I don't want to waste our time."
Namie did not press the subject.
They started working. It quickly became clear that Izaya was no good for cleaning up that day. Remembering the workout he had the previous night, she didn't call him out on it. That would embarrass him. His arms had the strength of wet noodles; he couldn't lift a thing to save his life. Namie made him sweep the floor, pick up trash, and fold tablecloths instead while she dragged all the furniture around. It was not the best of starts to her day. Nor to his; there was no other word for it—he was glum. He quickly ran out of things he could do and spent the rest of the time weaving in and out of awareness and boredom. When at last the room was clean, she turned out all the lights and dragged Izaya to his feet—he kept swaying—and called a taxi. It was a horrid waste of money...no, worth it, she firmly decided; there was no way Izaya could have endured the train back to his apartment. She felt a flash of concern. This might be more than it appeared.
Namie didn't know how they got up all the stairs to the apartment itself. She unlocked the apartment, went in, stripped Izaya's shoes off (he fell asleep on his feet), and peeled off his jacket at the door. Then she pushed him in front of her to his bedroom, and tucked him in with all his nice clothes on. She placed a hand on his temple, just to check. It was a little feverish, so she fetched a cool cloth, some water, and some pudding, and put it at his bedside.
She turned out the light, and did something quiet. It was just an intuition, but she had the feeling that she ought to be able to hear him when he woke up, or she would be irresponsible. And then her own exhaustion washed over her, and then she was gone.
Author's Note:
Shinra's and Celty's vows are Japanese-style. I thought I might as well.
Shinra's mother is a bit of a loose cannon. She just popped in there. Because of the color red. Because I hate leaving a question unfulfilled (like what happened to Shinra's mother, since he grew up with his father). Bear with me... I know not everyone likes side-trips. Especially extra-canon ones. Oh...and Koorihashi/Broken Bridge is no accident. It's meant to be a reference to the expression "Burning Bridges" and also "Mending Bridges." The kanji for "Shukufu," her first name, mean "gentle assistance."
I'm pretty sure that Shinra as I've written him didn't react the way most kids would to parents' separating. Of course, he's kind of a weird person already. Although he's got an adult view of his father nowadays, when he was a kid, his father was everything, and he trusted him implicitly—a little too much, sometimes. Enough not to question practicing surgery at that tender age of nine, I think (I can't remember the facts exactly, but it was too young).
The ex- Blue Squares gang's showtunes are all the Japanese lyrics to the Durarara anime songs, "Uragiri no Yuuyake," "Complication," and "Butterfly." Which is why they can't remember them :-) because they're in them.
The confetti prank thing comes from the personal experience of one of my relatives. Shinra's lucky Celty has magic, 'cause according to family legend, that stuff didn't completely come out of the air vents for years.
That aside, I encourage you to review this chapter. I feel like I am finally moving forward and making progress with the theme suggested in the title. According to my mental calculations (which could be entirely wrong) I am halfway through the story.