DURARARA!! Vol.4 CHAPTER 1, PART I
WARNING: UNBETA-ED.
I plan to release the entire book as a txt file once it has been beta-ed and everything doublechecked.
CHAPTER 1
KING TELEVISION SPECIAL REPORT: IKEBUKURO, A HUNDRED DAYS AT THE WAR FRONT
"Ikebukuro, a town that knows not what rest is - "
The heavy-hearted voice on TV was narrating the clip showing the view of the night street being shot from a patrol car.
"Two months ago, 'Ripper Night', which resulted in a series of injuries, had left the entire city in panic. Today, however, the Ikebukuro night is not looking any more reassuring."
It was the kind of special report you see everywhere around the end of the year.
In the peaceful living room, precious clips of cases being solved - obtained by journalists who followed the police's heels to shoot them - were airing on TV.
Their subjects weren't anything of national concern - usually the likes of street fights, drunk or license-less driving, or retrieving stolen cars - in fact, hardly anything that was likely to even make its way into regional newspapers.
But these events, captured raw and live on film, did give the audience the impression that malicious crimes were being committed in front of their eyes and convey its central message - "The city is scary tonight."
Still - this special report on King Television had one key difference from other programs of its kind.
"An unnerving shadow is dancing in the darkness of the night on this highway serving like an artery to this city."
The street view was switched to a famous video clip.
"This motorbike's got neither a number plate nor a headlight - what's more, it's painted completely black. Naturally, it's already risky driving to begin with."
As expected, the view was still of the Ikebukuro night.
Nevertheless, it gave off a different vibe from everything that had been on air till now.
At the center of the view, a black motorbike was soaring after another car.
As the narrator had pointed out, the motorbike was equipped with neither a headlight nor a number plate; if anything, it was more like a black silhouette that had turned into a three-dimensional object.
A gunshot was heard, and the rider on the motorbike bent far backwards to dodge it; for a moment the safety helmet seemed like it was floating away in the air.
However, it returned almost immediately to where it was a second before -
- as if it were connected to the rider's shoulder by black elastic bands. This was creepy enough to make the viewer's hair stand on end, but the real problem was the "fact" that revealed itself for a split second during that process.
In the split second the safety helmet had threatened to float away -
It revealed mere emptiness underneath.
The viewer's eyes had not been deluded. Nor was it deliberate camouflage utilizing dark-colored hair on the rider's part .
Because - between the helmet and the rider's neck, the video camera did capture the view of the car from which the gunshot had been fired.
Simply put, the scene could be summed up in one sentence -
"The rider on the Black Motorbike had nothing above its neck."
That would have sufficed.
Strings of shadow extended themselves from the neck hole and grabbed the bottom of the helmet, dragged it towards the neck, and fixed it firmly in position.
The video clip was already surreal enough to be dismissed as fake. However, in combination with the medium via which it was reported, it felt strangely real.
What was more - the rider had one more terrifying feature.
Namely, the long, non-reflecting weapon the rider had been wielding even before the gunshot - which looked as if it were made of mid-summer shadows.
But it was too weird to even be called a weapon.
It was a pitch-black scythe almost twice as tall as the rider wielding it, had a handle about three meters in length and an equally long blade.
When he first captured that scythe on his film, the cameraman had thought that it was a bousouzoku* waving his gang flag as he soared. That was how huge the scythe handle had looked.
*Japanese motorcycle gangs.
It looked as if it were cut out of the silhouette of a tarot Death God's scythe's shadow as it was projected onto the wall - pure, unadulterated black, black, black.
"We have no idea whether he's doing it for personal enjoyment or as part of some bousouzoku activity. His motives have eluded even the police."
It was obvious that the rider had far surpassed the bousouzoku level, but the reporters had to refrain from using words like "fairy" or "monster" due to professional restrictions.
Nevertheless, it was clear to everyone that he was not even human to begin with, much less the likes of "personal enjoyment criminals" or bousouzoku.
It by no means meant, however, that most people were ready to "acknowledge" this fact even if they understand that the rider was something "far surpassing realm of human knowledge".
- Which was why half of the mass media was trying to assign some sort of "meaning" to that "something".
The other half, meanwhile, began to capitalize on people's ability to "accept what they would not accept".
A strange yet very real existence in this modern city.
People had begun to take action to find out the true identity of the Headless Rider. To some it was part of their strange fascination, revived every few years, with the occult - to others it was the exact opposite: they wanted to prove that such strange things did not exist.
Today, the mass media was still on the pursuit for the Headless Rider.
Some reporters had screamed that they had seen "the real monster".
Anyone who was watching the program would have to admit that the rider did look like it did not have a head.
Even if some tried to prove it false, the figure captured vividly in action was too convincing to be dismissed. Some had even started the rumor -
- that the Headless Rider existed somewhere in-between reality and urban legends because of the plethora of rumors that created him.
In reality, you could witness the "urban legend" occupying a sensitive spot in the metropolitan consciousness just by spending a few days wandering the streets of Ikebukuro.
- Which many people continued to do even today.
However, the essential information remained unrevealed. The identity of the Headless Rider was enshrouded in darkness, its very existence reduced to a representation of "modern myths", and dissolved into the society it was in.
And the "myth" itself -
- was working a temporary job in a little corner of Nerima, Tokyo.
♂♀
Somewhere in Nerima, Tokyo
Blinding light surrounded the white skin.
The light was intense enough to blur the boundary between reality and fantasy. Under its brightness lay a naked female.
Above the sufficiently worked-out abdominals a pair of well-shaped breasts were trembling as fingers, smooth as white fish, slid into their cleavage.
The fingers also belonged to a female; her blond hair shone under the light.
She was dressed like some sort of doctor or researcher, but her distinctively babyish face and golden irises were a strange match with the white lab coat she had on.
What was more, her body, even more sensual than the naked female's lying on the bed beside her, was inadvertently making sultry "moves" in her lab coat.
If the blond's body was the type that provoked carnal desires, the body of the female on the bed could be described as healthily beautiful; the two mesmerizing bodies were especially eye-catching in the intense light they were immersed in.
The fingers slid smoothly from the naked female's breasts to her abdomen and lingered around the navel.
It would have been an erotic view had it not been for one problem - one that ruined the mood in its entirety and transformed the scene into one akin to gory pornography.
- One that, all considered, was a little too obvious to the eye.
You could try to tone it down any way you liked, but the female lying on the bed -
- had nothing above her neck.
The cut was too clean and smooth to have been a "cut"; in fact, it looked as if it had been designed that way from the very beginning.
Swirling shadows hid the oesophagus and the spine, which should have been visible, from view.
But even if one were to overlook that fact, the scene still looked like a coroner at work.
The Caucasian coroner and the the strange female body currently under her examination.
It was amazing how the scene lost all its erotic appeal when all that was missing was a head - but as the female in the white coat retracted her hand from the headless "body", what she said sounded a world apart from the lines in a porno or a coroner's proceedings.
"Done! Finished till the end with all due respect! I thank you that you dabbled in this business with respect!"
Her absurd Japanese was followed by something that was even less in accord with the atmosphere.
The headless female's hand moved just barely and a black substance flowed out.
It hardly looked gaseous; if anything, it looked like liquid that blended itself into the surrounding air.
It reflected even less light than what one would normally consider "black"; there was no appropriate way to describe its color save "shadowy" or "dark".
The "shadow" flooded over the completely naked body and wrapped it up in a way that would make the viewer think it had a will of its own.
The female in the white coat looked on with interest, not looking in the least surprised.
In a matter of seconds, the headless female on the bed went from completely naked to dressed in a pitch-black rider suit.
- But remained without a head.
The female in the black rider suit did not seem bothered by her own headlessness. Instead, she grabbed the PDA lying on the table next to her bed.
After deftly typing in a series of words, the alien-like existence showed the display screen to the female in the white coat.
[I did not 'dabble in' anything, The right way to say it is 'helped you out.']
"Oops, I apologize with respect. This makes me very ashamed with respect."
[......So you can read kanji...does that mean your Japanese is weird because you want it to be? For the sake of your characterization or something?]
"That is from the solidly suspicious fact's point of view non-existent. PINKARARINOPUU."
The Headless Rider felt her shoulders slack as the female in the white coat began to grin innocently. She typed some more:
[I don't know whether to take that for a yes or no...but whatever, Emilia, just give me my salary for the week. And the correct pronunciation is 'TOPPINGPARARINOPUU' *. PINKARARI is the name of a horseback bread-seller."
* Meaning "That's all there is to the story" in Akita dialect.
"Really, mentioning the matters concerning payment, this is really cunning of you with respect. You must work more on raising cuteness level and then can you become the Yamato Nadeshiko* with the best of Eastern and Western romanticism."
* The Japanese "ideal female".
[Yamato Nadeshiko? But I'm from Ireland......]
Emilia lowered her head with a pouting face at the headless woman's retort.
"But you are Ikebukuroan now with respect! Also, if you can call me 'Mother', I'll thank you like lightning with kneeling and kowtow like rain and hurricane with respect! 'Mommy' is permitted too, Mama Mia~"
[I'll just...pass...um...it's true that Shinra and I are contemplating our future, but we have yet to discuss anything as concrete as marriage...also, just think about it, you know how old I am...actually, even Shinra is older than you, Emilia, so it's kind of...um...for me to call you Mother...]
The headless woman was squirming as if embarrassed, but owing to her lack of a face to show the blushing, it was as creepy as looking at a zombie struggling after having its head blown off.
[Please, just let me have my salary already! That's the only reason I put up with these distasteful bodily experiments you've been doing on me after all. And what was the last palpating part supposed to tell you about my body?]
"Ahhh, your skin is impeccable as egg white, and fresh out of the bath too......so beautiful and smooth I just did want to touch it closely and become immersed in heavenliness."*
[......I'm too tired to be mad at you right now...just hand me this week's salary already.]
"Yes yes yes, please calm down with respect. Scared homeless jobless people get paid less than you do, you know?"
Emilia handed her an envelope while saying things sounding as if they were meant to distract her.
【THANK YOU MS. CELTY STURLUSON】
In the envelope with these handwritten words lay a hundred 10,000-yen bills.
The headless alien quickly checked the contents of the envelope with a thousand shadowy fingers. Her spirits rose, and the words she typed onto her PDA became peppered with symbols.
[Everything looks good☆Thanks for the opportunity♪]
Taking with her the salary, which was a little too much for a mere week's work, the headless woman - Celty Sturluson - departed the research facility with light footsteps.
Celty's eyes became fixed on a motorbike in the corner of the parking lot the moment she entered it.
It was a motorbike carefully draped under a rain shield. Curiously, the rain shield was not commonplace silver, but rather dark black - the same color as the substance that covered Celty's body.
The second her hand touched it, the rain shield dissipated into fine drops of black mist and disappeared into the air altogether.
It was a magical view, but Celty appeared more than used to it; she mounted the motorbike that had just revealed itself, and put the helmet hanging off its arm onto her neck.
The Headless Rider soaring the night streets, and her motorbike without a headlight or a number plate.
The most eye-catching combination was apparently oblivious to their status as "mysterious creatures" -
The Rider simply let the engine neigh like a horse before charging into the Ikebukuro night.
♂♀
Celty Sturluson was not human.
She was a dullahan, a Scottish or Irish fairy that knocked on the doors of the dying and warned them of their impending death.
She carried her severed head at her side and rode a carriage pulled by a Coiste-bodhar (a headless horse) to the homes of the dying. If they were thoughtless enough to open the door, she would splash upon them a bucketful of blood - and was therefore regarded as a messenger of doom like banshees in European folklore.
Some believed that dullahans were the form Nordic Valkyries took when they fell onto the Earth. Celty herself had no idea whether it was true or not, however.
Perhaps she did know.
But she certainly does not remember.
She lost the memories as to what she was when her head was stolen in her homeland. That was the reason she followed the scent of its presence all the way to Ikebukuro.
Her headless horse was transformed into a motorbike and her armor into a rider suit; for decades she wandered the streets in this city.
But she ended up getting neither her head nor her memories back.
For Celty, life was good as it was.
She had someone who loved her, and people who accepted her for what she was. She was content to be able to just spend her life the way she was with these people.
Having made up her mind, the headless woman decided to show her resolve to the world through her actions rather than her nonexistent face.
- Such was the being named Celty Sturluson.
♂♀
A national highway in Ikebukuro
Celty considered her future plans as she rode back to central Tokyo in a high spirit.
- Never expected I would be able to earn a million yen within a week.
- I'll probably buy Shinra a new pair of glasses.
Shinra was an underground doctor who lived with her; they were now a loving couple.
He was not only in love with her heart, but also with her headless appearance; as weird as that made he sound, Celty loved the underground doctor too from the bottom of her heart.
She felt even better as she pictured the happily surprised face of her beloved freak, and continued to think of ways she would spend the remaining money.
- And then, buy a new portable lapop......
- Also, it's about time to buy a new helmet.
The salary from the temporary job was like a bonus to her. Therefore, she was able to spend it on whatever without having to worry about leaving some for her savings.
She had her usual income as a courier, but that money went almost entirely into her savings for the future.
The temporary job was made available to her a month ago when she met Emilia, who came to Ikebukuro to reunite with Shinra's father.
Emilia, who was employed by the pharmaceutical branch of a large overseas corporation*, simply knocked on Celty's door and asked for her permission to "play with her body".
*Nebula.
Of course, Celty refused at first - but eventually had to cave in despite her reluctance when Emilia added conditions such as "minimal vivisection and cell sampling" and "palpation by female researchers only".
But the delicious amount of money Emilia offered was also an important reason.
- Really, in the old days I would have to let Shinra keep the money even if I earned this amount.
- But now I can buy almost anything online. Civilization is awesome.
Celty's thoughts went increasingly mundane as they continued down the un-monster-like route.
- It feels so nice to not have to spend money on my motorbike. All I have to get Shooter is a brush for his mane since he's not fond of stickers.
Shooter was probably Celty's pet name for her Coiste-bodhar since she stroked him gently as she referred to him as such.
He was apparently pleased, because the usually silent engine let out a neigh of a horse's that made several passers-by jump.
- Oops. How adorable.
As her horse neighed she went on planning how she would use her million-yen treasure like a kid shopping for snacks for his outing the next day.
- That'll still leave me with 700,000.
- I'll get that DVD recorder set I've had my eyes on for a while. The kind that does videotape-to-DVD conversion.
- That way I'll be able to have everything in DVD format - "Try and Understand"*, "Wonders and Discoveries", "The TV Investigation Squad", "Drama on the Ninth", "Friends" and "How Much Is Your Treasure Worth?"*.
* Try and Understand (Tameshite Gatten): A popular NHK program that teaches its viewer to apply science to everyday tasks.
* How Much Is Your Treasure Worth? (Nandemo Kanteidan): A popular TVTokyo variety show that offers to assess the value of any "personal treasure" the participant brings to the show.
- And...what else...right, I'll treat Shinra to something nice. He said he was craving three-five-eight marinaded* sandfish......but is sandfish even in season?
* Three-five-eight marinading: a kind of Japanese marinading technique that will be explained by Harima Mika near the end of this book.
It was already Mid-April, way past the breeding season for sandfish. But for Celty the greater problem was the cooking part.
She didn't have a tongue since she had nothing above her neck.
The "shadow" that flows out from inside her body worked as a kind of radar - Celty didn't know why, but she could see, hear and even smell with her "shadow".
But she couldn't taste, probably because she did not need to eat. She had no idea if things smelt the same to Shinra as they did to her, either.
Even though she could follow recipes, it was impossible to make sure her dishes tasted good on her own.
Thanks to years of training she was now able to make egg dishes such as crab balls and scrambled eggs palatable to Shinra. But for other kinds of dishes all she could manage was to make them look like they did in the recipes. Since she had no sense of taste, it was impossible to tell whether she mistook sugar for salt until Shinra had tried the dish.
- I need someone good at cooking to give me some formal lessons......
- ......I wonder if Anri and Karisawa are good at cooking.
A few females she knew came to her mind, but none struck her as a possible cooking expert. Since she wanted to cook Japanese, asking Emilia was probably a waste of time. Other females she knew were just as idiosyncratic....
- Seriously, housewives are something.
The monster shrugged at the sky in awe of humans. The sun had already set.
The streets were lit, making the stars hardly visible. The moon boasted its light amongst the vast emptiness.
- But it's still a sort of happiness to be able to think about such things.
- I had no idea things would turn out like this when Emilia knocked on our door last month......
Emilia was staying with them - but since she spent her nights at the research facility all week she hardly ever showed up at their apartment.
The dissection table became part of her routine, but she was able to accept that telling herself that the detrimental effects would be controlled to a minimum and the payment would be great.
The traffic light turned red, she braked, her heart at peace because she was living her life like a human.
- Ahh. Exactly. This is what I want.
To lead an ordinary life with the one I love.
This was immense happiness for her, a monster in others' eyes. The Headless Rider felt her heart melt in the warmth of that thought.
- Maybe it won't be such a bad idea after all to call Emilia "Mother" once in a while.
- I wonder what kind of face Shinra would make.
Patiently, Celty waited for the traffic light to change as she pictured her lover's flustered expression.
But -
Humans didn't care about Celty's everyday life nearly as much as she did.
Instead, they insisted on seeing her as an aberration, and proceeded to push her towards the mouth of Hell.
"Excuse me, could I have a minute of your time?"
- Hmm?
Celty turned her attention towards her surroundings upon hearing the voice; her helmet turned around.
A well-built male was holding what looked like a microphone to her as she waited for the traffic light to change.
- ? He's talking to me? Who is he, anyway? Why is he holding a mike to my helmet on the highway?
The male got closer to Celty, whose motorbike was close to the guardrail, and spoke to her over the guardrail in a serious tone:
"I'm Fukumi from King Television, and I've got a couple of things to ask you."
- No. No way......
Seeing another male holding a TV camera at a distance and some men in casual clothes further away, Celty realized what this Fukumi guy was after.
"We're interviewing you for this special report on Ikebukuro we're doing...your motorbike has neither a headlight nor a number plate, right? Isn't that obviously a violation of traffic rules?"
The reporter looked closely at Celty as he said things that were indisputably right.
What was worse, the traffic light had refused to turn green.
- Shoot, traffic lights in this area are slow.
She had no problem riding a motorbike without a headlight or a number plate - yet she cared for traffic lights.
It was sort of ridiculous, but the reporter simply went on talking, apparently not amused.
"You're the Black Motorbike that has been seen since years ago, right? What is your purpose for riding such a dangerous motorbike on the streets?"
At that instant - the engine let out a roar.
Gururu - the roar chilled the hearts of passers-by as if they had heard a beast.
The reporter froze. Despite his doubts about her engine, which did not usually make sounds, he recovered instantly and continued asking:
"Could you say something? Are you aware that you're breaking the law?"
- Ahhhhh......
- What should I do......even if I keep silent like this, I'll make a negative impression on the society.
- I don't care how they see me, but I can't stand the thought of my friends being treated like a criminal's companions...but there's no way I'll be able to get a number plate, and Shooter hates headlights......
She couldn't think of a way out of this situation even though she tried.
She couldnt' deny that she did transport less-than-legal stuff in her courier career. Her motorbike obviously violated traffic rules as well.
But there was no way she could simply say, "I'm a monster. Let me live."
- ......Or is there?
- Would it really matter if I said it?
- Since it's a live report, they'll probably have to trash the film if I let them see something that obviously "can't be." The viewers will probably think it's a fake.
- It's not like I haven't been filmed before anyway.
Celty, having made up her mind, produced her PDA and began to type in the face of the reporter.
"......? What is this? Um......what's happening?"
The reporter was confused by Celty's first proactive attempt to communicate. His eyes wandered between the PDA's display screen and Celty's helmet.
One could hardly blame him considering the contents of the single line displayed on the screen.
[He's a horse. That's why he has neither a headlight nor a number plate.]
"Come on...if you're trying to kid us you should at least......uwahhh......"
The reporter stiffened in shock as he was just beginning to speak with a frown.
The Black Motorbike had wriggled and transfigured to twice its original volume.
With total disregard of the rules of physics, it had taken on the shape of a living creature - a pitch-black horse, in a matter of seconds.
But there was one thing wrong with the horse.
"Eh...ehhhhhh......."
The reporter was expressing his fear not of the transformation process, but of the shape the horse took after it.
- Which was totally understandable.
The Headless Rider's beloved motorbike, which had been without a headlight in the motorbike form, kept that characteristic perfectly after the transformation.
Which meant -
The horse was "without a head".
- Heheh. I haven't seen him in the horse form since we roamed the forests on the Fuji mountain.
Celty stroked the horse's chopped neck proudly as she faced the reporter. She typed words in to her PDA in a firm manner, not seeming to mind his uncontrollable shaking.
[I believe you see what I mean. Now, if you'll excuse us......]
- Horses are "light vehicles" like bikes if I recall correctly, right?
Celty waited for the traffic light to change as she thought.
If clips of her horse were to be aired, most of the people would probably just think that the TV station had finally lost the ability to tell between news reports and sci-fi specials.
That was probably why the existence of "abnormal" creatures were never properly reported in the first place.
The traffic light situated at the crossing began to flash. Celty, knowing that the light would turn green any moment now, put her PDA back and contemplated the coolest way to leave the scene -
- Until, the next second -
"Oi."
A shudder ran down her spine and heart.
"Stand still, monster."
A too-familiar voice sounded from behind. Celty felt her entire body pulsate like the heart of a vivisected frog despite the complete absence of blood in her system.
You must not turn.
But you must turn.
Her instinct and rational thoughts warned her body in turn.
It was right behind her.
"Something" that she couldn't do anything about was right behind her.
Half of her wanted to at least make sure it was him before thinking of escape, while the other half told her to not waste a single second and just run for it -
She turned her sensors slowly towards her back as she heard unpleasant noises from her spine -
And there he was, the traffic cop with a refreshing grin on a white motorbike.
The human traffic police who had planted seeds of fear in her heart before was asking her in a flat tone as he put his foot on the accelerator with a half-pleased, half-mad expression on his face:
"Are you aware that even light vehicles aren't allowed to go on the road without headlights?"
The traffic light turned green.
At the same moment, Celty's peace was put to an end.
Laced by fear, the game of tag between the monster and humans had begun.
However, by the looks of it -
The monster was to be the chased one for a change.
♂♀
The roar pierced the Ikebukuro night as Shooter's giant hooves rang at the movement of his own body.
Celty, who was holding on to the reins that were originally the motorbike's handles, had forgotten to even transform him back into the motorbike.
Shooter, her horse, was a soul who combined dead horses with damaged carriages to form its body. When she set out for Japan, she let him take the form of an abandoned motorbike they found in a metal object disposal area. This was why he was capable of transforming between three forms now.
The headless horse running on its own.
The headless horse dragging an appropriately shaped carriage.
Or, to suit the needs of the modern society, the motorbike without a headlight.
But there was no time to conjure the carriage.
Celty could only hope that the powerful sound of hooves could save her from her ultimate fear, the white motorbike, whose exhaust pipe roared from behind.
The traffic light turned red again ahead of her.
The traffic began to flow on the road before her - if she were to charge into the traffic like this, she would not be able to avoid an accident.
Bodily injuries weren't a concern for Celty, but she couldn't bring herself to disregard the serious accidents that could happen if the drivers were scared out of their wits by her charging headless horse.
- Ahhh!
After making sure that no one was walking on the sidewalk, Celty pulled at the reins and made her horse turn sharply. She felt the pressure gnaw at her back as she decelerated - but there was no time for her to feel afraid. The Coiste-bodhar pranced on her orders.
The giant black creature easily cleared the guardrail and made straight for the outside wall of a building -
And "landed" on it.
From every hoof strings of shadow extended themselves and merged with the surface of the concrete wall.
It looked as if the horse's feet were stuck to the wall with some kind of magical tape that transcended human imagination. Shooter ran vertically onto the wall with Celty on his back at an amazing speed.
"Che! Don't you figure you can escape!"
The male on the white motorbike wasn't wavered in the least at the supernatural sight in front of him.
He made a U-turn to stop his motorbike and watched Celty's moves in silence.
Celty, who felt his stare tingle on her back, tried desperately to figure out a way to escape.
- God. God God God. This is bad. This is hopeless. Just hopeless. Completely hopeless. I'm screwed.
Celty could hardly make her own thoughts coherent. She made for the rooftop anyway.
She stopped for a while on the rooftop of the building, which was apparently a small apartment complex, and contemplated her means of escape.
- R - Right...how about -
And she came up with a plan.
(TO BE CONTINUED IN PART II)
I plan to release the entire book as a txt file once it has been beta-ed and everything doublechecked.
CHAPTER 1
KING TELEVISION SPECIAL REPORT: IKEBUKURO, A HUNDRED DAYS AT THE WAR FRONT
"Ikebukuro, a town that knows not what rest is - "
The heavy-hearted voice on TV was narrating the clip showing the view of the night street being shot from a patrol car.
"Two months ago, 'Ripper Night', which resulted in a series of injuries, had left the entire city in panic. Today, however, the Ikebukuro night is not looking any more reassuring."
It was the kind of special report you see everywhere around the end of the year.
In the peaceful living room, precious clips of cases being solved - obtained by journalists who followed the police's heels to shoot them - were airing on TV.
Their subjects weren't anything of national concern - usually the likes of street fights, drunk or license-less driving, or retrieving stolen cars - in fact, hardly anything that was likely to even make its way into regional newspapers.
But these events, captured raw and live on film, did give the audience the impression that malicious crimes were being committed in front of their eyes and convey its central message - "The city is scary tonight."
Still - this special report on King Television had one key difference from other programs of its kind.
"An unnerving shadow is dancing in the darkness of the night on this highway serving like an artery to this city."
The street view was switched to a famous video clip.
"This motorbike's got neither a number plate nor a headlight - what's more, it's painted completely black. Naturally, it's already risky driving to begin with."
As expected, the view was still of the Ikebukuro night.
Nevertheless, it gave off a different vibe from everything that had been on air till now.
At the center of the view, a black motorbike was soaring after another car.
As the narrator had pointed out, the motorbike was equipped with neither a headlight nor a number plate; if anything, it was more like a black silhouette that had turned into a three-dimensional object.
A gunshot was heard, and the rider on the motorbike bent far backwards to dodge it; for a moment the safety helmet seemed like it was floating away in the air.
However, it returned almost immediately to where it was a second before -
- as if it were connected to the rider's shoulder by black elastic bands. This was creepy enough to make the viewer's hair stand on end, but the real problem was the "fact" that revealed itself for a split second during that process.
In the split second the safety helmet had threatened to float away -
It revealed mere emptiness underneath.
The viewer's eyes had not been deluded. Nor was it deliberate camouflage utilizing dark-colored hair on the rider's part .
Because - between the helmet and the rider's neck, the video camera did capture the view of the car from which the gunshot had been fired.
Simply put, the scene could be summed up in one sentence -
"The rider on the Black Motorbike had nothing above its neck."
That would have sufficed.
Strings of shadow extended themselves from the neck hole and grabbed the bottom of the helmet, dragged it towards the neck, and fixed it firmly in position.
The video clip was already surreal enough to be dismissed as fake. However, in combination with the medium via which it was reported, it felt strangely real.
What was more - the rider had one more terrifying feature.
Namely, the long, non-reflecting weapon the rider had been wielding even before the gunshot - which looked as if it were made of mid-summer shadows.
But it was too weird to even be called a weapon.
It was a pitch-black scythe almost twice as tall as the rider wielding it, had a handle about three meters in length and an equally long blade.
When he first captured that scythe on his film, the cameraman had thought that it was a bousouzoku* waving his gang flag as he soared. That was how huge the scythe handle had looked.
*Japanese motorcycle gangs.
It looked as if it were cut out of the silhouette of a tarot Death God's scythe's shadow as it was projected onto the wall - pure, unadulterated black, black, black.
"We have no idea whether he's doing it for personal enjoyment or as part of some bousouzoku activity. His motives have eluded even the police."
It was obvious that the rider had far surpassed the bousouzoku level, but the reporters had to refrain from using words like "fairy" or "monster" due to professional restrictions.
Nevertheless, it was clear to everyone that he was not even human to begin with, much less the likes of "personal enjoyment criminals" or bousouzoku.
It by no means meant, however, that most people were ready to "acknowledge" this fact even if they understand that the rider was something "far surpassing realm of human knowledge".
- Which was why half of the mass media was trying to assign some sort of "meaning" to that "something".
The other half, meanwhile, began to capitalize on people's ability to "accept what they would not accept".
A strange yet very real existence in this modern city.
People had begun to take action to find out the true identity of the Headless Rider. To some it was part of their strange fascination, revived every few years, with the occult - to others it was the exact opposite: they wanted to prove that such strange things did not exist.
Today, the mass media was still on the pursuit for the Headless Rider.
Some reporters had screamed that they had seen "the real monster".
Anyone who was watching the program would have to admit that the rider did look like it did not have a head.
Even if some tried to prove it false, the figure captured vividly in action was too convincing to be dismissed. Some had even started the rumor -
- that the Headless Rider existed somewhere in-between reality and urban legends because of the plethora of rumors that created him.
In reality, you could witness the "urban legend" occupying a sensitive spot in the metropolitan consciousness just by spending a few days wandering the streets of Ikebukuro.
- Which many people continued to do even today.
However, the essential information remained unrevealed. The identity of the Headless Rider was enshrouded in darkness, its very existence reduced to a representation of "modern myths", and dissolved into the society it was in.
And the "myth" itself -
- was working a temporary job in a little corner of Nerima, Tokyo.
♂♀
Somewhere in Nerima, Tokyo
Blinding light surrounded the white skin.
The light was intense enough to blur the boundary between reality and fantasy. Under its brightness lay a naked female.
Above the sufficiently worked-out abdominals a pair of well-shaped breasts were trembling as fingers, smooth as white fish, slid into their cleavage.
The fingers also belonged to a female; her blond hair shone under the light.
She was dressed like some sort of doctor or researcher, but her distinctively babyish face and golden irises were a strange match with the white lab coat she had on.
What was more, her body, even more sensual than the naked female's lying on the bed beside her, was inadvertently making sultry "moves" in her lab coat.
If the blond's body was the type that provoked carnal desires, the body of the female on the bed could be described as healthily beautiful; the two mesmerizing bodies were especially eye-catching in the intense light they were immersed in.
The fingers slid smoothly from the naked female's breasts to her abdomen and lingered around the navel.
It would have been an erotic view had it not been for one problem - one that ruined the mood in its entirety and transformed the scene into one akin to gory pornography.
- One that, all considered, was a little too obvious to the eye.
You could try to tone it down any way you liked, but the female lying on the bed -
- had nothing above her neck.
The cut was too clean and smooth to have been a "cut"; in fact, it looked as if it had been designed that way from the very beginning.
Swirling shadows hid the oesophagus and the spine, which should have been visible, from view.
But even if one were to overlook that fact, the scene still looked like a coroner at work.
The Caucasian coroner and the the strange female body currently under her examination.
It was amazing how the scene lost all its erotic appeal when all that was missing was a head - but as the female in the white coat retracted her hand from the headless "body", what she said sounded a world apart from the lines in a porno or a coroner's proceedings.
"Done! Finished till the end with all due respect! I thank you that you dabbled in this business with respect!"
Her absurd Japanese was followed by something that was even less in accord with the atmosphere.
The headless female's hand moved just barely and a black substance flowed out.
It hardly looked gaseous; if anything, it looked like liquid that blended itself into the surrounding air.
It reflected even less light than what one would normally consider "black"; there was no appropriate way to describe its color save "shadowy" or "dark".
The "shadow" flooded over the completely naked body and wrapped it up in a way that would make the viewer think it had a will of its own.
The female in the white coat looked on with interest, not looking in the least surprised.
In a matter of seconds, the headless female on the bed went from completely naked to dressed in a pitch-black rider suit.
- But remained without a head.
The female in the black rider suit did not seem bothered by her own headlessness. Instead, she grabbed the PDA lying on the table next to her bed.
After deftly typing in a series of words, the alien-like existence showed the display screen to the female in the white coat.
[I did not 'dabble in' anything, The right way to say it is 'helped you out.']
"Oops, I apologize with respect. This makes me very ashamed with respect."
[......So you can read kanji...does that mean your Japanese is weird because you want it to be? For the sake of your characterization or something?]
"That is from the solidly suspicious fact's point of view non-existent. PINKARARINOPUU."
The Headless Rider felt her shoulders slack as the female in the white coat began to grin innocently. She typed some more:
[I don't know whether to take that for a yes or no...but whatever, Emilia, just give me my salary for the week. And the correct pronunciation is 'TOPPINGPARARINOPUU' *. PINKARARI is the name of a horseback bread-seller."
* Meaning "That's all there is to the story" in Akita dialect.
"Really, mentioning the matters concerning payment, this is really cunning of you with respect. You must work more on raising cuteness level and then can you become the Yamato Nadeshiko* with the best of Eastern and Western romanticism."
* The Japanese "ideal female".
[Yamato Nadeshiko? But I'm from Ireland......]
Emilia lowered her head with a pouting face at the headless woman's retort.
"But you are Ikebukuroan now with respect! Also, if you can call me 'Mother', I'll thank you like lightning with kneeling and kowtow like rain and hurricane with respect! 'Mommy' is permitted too, Mama Mia~"
[I'll just...pass...um...it's true that Shinra and I are contemplating our future, but we have yet to discuss anything as concrete as marriage...also, just think about it, you know how old I am...actually, even Shinra is older than you, Emilia, so it's kind of...um...for me to call you Mother...]
The headless woman was squirming as if embarrassed, but owing to her lack of a face to show the blushing, it was as creepy as looking at a zombie struggling after having its head blown off.
[Please, just let me have my salary already! That's the only reason I put up with these distasteful bodily experiments you've been doing on me after all. And what was the last palpating part supposed to tell you about my body?]
"Ahhh, your skin is impeccable as egg white, and fresh out of the bath too......so beautiful and smooth I just did want to touch it closely and become immersed in heavenliness."*
[......I'm too tired to be mad at you right now...just hand me this week's salary already.]
"Yes yes yes, please calm down with respect. Scared homeless jobless people get paid less than you do, you know?"
Emilia handed her an envelope while saying things sounding as if they were meant to distract her.
【THANK YOU MS. CELTY STURLUSON】
In the envelope with these handwritten words lay a hundred 10,000-yen bills.
The headless alien quickly checked the contents of the envelope with a thousand shadowy fingers. Her spirits rose, and the words she typed onto her PDA became peppered with symbols.
[Everything looks good☆Thanks for the opportunity♪]
Taking with her the salary, which was a little too much for a mere week's work, the headless woman - Celty Sturluson - departed the research facility with light footsteps.
Celty's eyes became fixed on a motorbike in the corner of the parking lot the moment she entered it.
It was a motorbike carefully draped under a rain shield. Curiously, the rain shield was not commonplace silver, but rather dark black - the same color as the substance that covered Celty's body.
The second her hand touched it, the rain shield dissipated into fine drops of black mist and disappeared into the air altogether.
It was a magical view, but Celty appeared more than used to it; she mounted the motorbike that had just revealed itself, and put the helmet hanging off its arm onto her neck.
The Headless Rider soaring the night streets, and her motorbike without a headlight or a number plate.
The most eye-catching combination was apparently oblivious to their status as "mysterious creatures" -
The Rider simply let the engine neigh like a horse before charging into the Ikebukuro night.
♂♀
Celty Sturluson was not human.
She was a dullahan, a Scottish or Irish fairy that knocked on the doors of the dying and warned them of their impending death.
She carried her severed head at her side and rode a carriage pulled by a Coiste-bodhar (a headless horse) to the homes of the dying. If they were thoughtless enough to open the door, she would splash upon them a bucketful of blood - and was therefore regarded as a messenger of doom like banshees in European folklore.
Some believed that dullahans were the form Nordic Valkyries took when they fell onto the Earth. Celty herself had no idea whether it was true or not, however.
Perhaps she did know.
But she certainly does not remember.
She lost the memories as to what she was when her head was stolen in her homeland. That was the reason she followed the scent of its presence all the way to Ikebukuro.
Her headless horse was transformed into a motorbike and her armor into a rider suit; for decades she wandered the streets in this city.
But she ended up getting neither her head nor her memories back.
For Celty, life was good as it was.
She had someone who loved her, and people who accepted her for what she was. She was content to be able to just spend her life the way she was with these people.
Having made up her mind, the headless woman decided to show her resolve to the world through her actions rather than her nonexistent face.
- Such was the being named Celty Sturluson.
♂♀
A national highway in Ikebukuro
Celty considered her future plans as she rode back to central Tokyo in a high spirit.
- Never expected I would be able to earn a million yen within a week.
- I'll probably buy Shinra a new pair of glasses.
Shinra was an underground doctor who lived with her; they were now a loving couple.
He was not only in love with her heart, but also with her headless appearance; as weird as that made he sound, Celty loved the underground doctor too from the bottom of her heart.
She felt even better as she pictured the happily surprised face of her beloved freak, and continued to think of ways she would spend the remaining money.
- And then, buy a new portable lapop......
- Also, it's about time to buy a new helmet.
The salary from the temporary job was like a bonus to her. Therefore, she was able to spend it on whatever without having to worry about leaving some for her savings.
She had her usual income as a courier, but that money went almost entirely into her savings for the future.
The temporary job was made available to her a month ago when she met Emilia, who came to Ikebukuro to reunite with Shinra's father.
Emilia, who was employed by the pharmaceutical branch of a large overseas corporation*, simply knocked on Celty's door and asked for her permission to "play with her body".
*Nebula.
Of course, Celty refused at first - but eventually had to cave in despite her reluctance when Emilia added conditions such as "minimal vivisection and cell sampling" and "palpation by female researchers only".
But the delicious amount of money Emilia offered was also an important reason.
- Really, in the old days I would have to let Shinra keep the money even if I earned this amount.
- But now I can buy almost anything online. Civilization is awesome.
Celty's thoughts went increasingly mundane as they continued down the un-monster-like route.
- It feels so nice to not have to spend money on my motorbike. All I have to get Shooter is a brush for his mane since he's not fond of stickers.
Shooter was probably Celty's pet name for her Coiste-bodhar since she stroked him gently as she referred to him as such.
He was apparently pleased, because the usually silent engine let out a neigh of a horse's that made several passers-by jump.
- Oops. How adorable.
As her horse neighed she went on planning how she would use her million-yen treasure like a kid shopping for snacks for his outing the next day.
- That'll still leave me with 700,000.
- I'll get that DVD recorder set I've had my eyes on for a while. The kind that does videotape-to-DVD conversion.
- That way I'll be able to have everything in DVD format - "Try and Understand"*, "Wonders and Discoveries", "The TV Investigation Squad", "Drama on the Ninth", "Friends" and "How Much Is Your Treasure Worth?"*.
* Try and Understand (Tameshite Gatten): A popular NHK program that teaches its viewer to apply science to everyday tasks.
* How Much Is Your Treasure Worth? (Nandemo Kanteidan): A popular TVTokyo variety show that offers to assess the value of any "personal treasure" the participant brings to the show.
- And...what else...right, I'll treat Shinra to something nice. He said he was craving three-five-eight marinaded* sandfish......but is sandfish even in season?
* Three-five-eight marinading: a kind of Japanese marinading technique that will be explained by Harima Mika near the end of this book.
It was already Mid-April, way past the breeding season for sandfish. But for Celty the greater problem was the cooking part.
She didn't have a tongue since she had nothing above her neck.
The "shadow" that flows out from inside her body worked as a kind of radar - Celty didn't know why, but she could see, hear and even smell with her "shadow".
But she couldn't taste, probably because she did not need to eat. She had no idea if things smelt the same to Shinra as they did to her, either.
Even though she could follow recipes, it was impossible to make sure her dishes tasted good on her own.
Thanks to years of training she was now able to make egg dishes such as crab balls and scrambled eggs palatable to Shinra. But for other kinds of dishes all she could manage was to make them look like they did in the recipes. Since she had no sense of taste, it was impossible to tell whether she mistook sugar for salt until Shinra had tried the dish.
- I need someone good at cooking to give me some formal lessons......
- ......I wonder if Anri and Karisawa are good at cooking.
A few females she knew came to her mind, but none struck her as a possible cooking expert. Since she wanted to cook Japanese, asking Emilia was probably a waste of time. Other females she knew were just as idiosyncratic....
- Seriously, housewives are something.
The monster shrugged at the sky in awe of humans. The sun had already set.
The streets were lit, making the stars hardly visible. The moon boasted its light amongst the vast emptiness.
- But it's still a sort of happiness to be able to think about such things.
- I had no idea things would turn out like this when Emilia knocked on our door last month......
Emilia was staying with them - but since she spent her nights at the research facility all week she hardly ever showed up at their apartment.
The dissection table became part of her routine, but she was able to accept that telling herself that the detrimental effects would be controlled to a minimum and the payment would be great.
The traffic light turned red, she braked, her heart at peace because she was living her life like a human.
- Ahh. Exactly. This is what I want.
To lead an ordinary life with the one I love.
This was immense happiness for her, a monster in others' eyes. The Headless Rider felt her heart melt in the warmth of that thought.
- Maybe it won't be such a bad idea after all to call Emilia "Mother" once in a while.
- I wonder what kind of face Shinra would make.
Patiently, Celty waited for the traffic light to change as she pictured her lover's flustered expression.
But -
Humans didn't care about Celty's everyday life nearly as much as she did.
Instead, they insisted on seeing her as an aberration, and proceeded to push her towards the mouth of Hell.
"Excuse me, could I have a minute of your time?"
- Hmm?
Celty turned her attention towards her surroundings upon hearing the voice; her helmet turned around.
A well-built male was holding what looked like a microphone to her as she waited for the traffic light to change.
- ? He's talking to me? Who is he, anyway? Why is he holding a mike to my helmet on the highway?
The male got closer to Celty, whose motorbike was close to the guardrail, and spoke to her over the guardrail in a serious tone:
"I'm Fukumi from King Television, and I've got a couple of things to ask you."
- No. No way......
Seeing another male holding a TV camera at a distance and some men in casual clothes further away, Celty realized what this Fukumi guy was after.
"We're interviewing you for this special report on Ikebukuro we're doing...your motorbike has neither a headlight nor a number plate, right? Isn't that obviously a violation of traffic rules?"
The reporter looked closely at Celty as he said things that were indisputably right.
What was worse, the traffic light had refused to turn green.
- Shoot, traffic lights in this area are slow.
She had no problem riding a motorbike without a headlight or a number plate - yet she cared for traffic lights.
It was sort of ridiculous, but the reporter simply went on talking, apparently not amused.
"You're the Black Motorbike that has been seen since years ago, right? What is your purpose for riding such a dangerous motorbike on the streets?"
At that instant - the engine let out a roar.
Gururu - the roar chilled the hearts of passers-by as if they had heard a beast.
The reporter froze. Despite his doubts about her engine, which did not usually make sounds, he recovered instantly and continued asking:
"Could you say something? Are you aware that you're breaking the law?"
- Ahhhhh......
- What should I do......even if I keep silent like this, I'll make a negative impression on the society.
- I don't care how they see me, but I can't stand the thought of my friends being treated like a criminal's companions...but there's no way I'll be able to get a number plate, and Shooter hates headlights......
She couldn't think of a way out of this situation even though she tried.
She couldnt' deny that she did transport less-than-legal stuff in her courier career. Her motorbike obviously violated traffic rules as well.
But there was no way she could simply say, "I'm a monster. Let me live."
- ......Or is there?
- Would it really matter if I said it?
- Since it's a live report, they'll probably have to trash the film if I let them see something that obviously "can't be." The viewers will probably think it's a fake.
- It's not like I haven't been filmed before anyway.
Celty, having made up her mind, produced her PDA and began to type in the face of the reporter.
"......? What is this? Um......what's happening?"
The reporter was confused by Celty's first proactive attempt to communicate. His eyes wandered between the PDA's display screen and Celty's helmet.
One could hardly blame him considering the contents of the single line displayed on the screen.
[He's a horse. That's why he has neither a headlight nor a number plate.]
"Come on...if you're trying to kid us you should at least......uwahhh......"
The reporter stiffened in shock as he was just beginning to speak with a frown.
The Black Motorbike had wriggled and transfigured to twice its original volume.
With total disregard of the rules of physics, it had taken on the shape of a living creature - a pitch-black horse, in a matter of seconds.
But there was one thing wrong with the horse.
"Eh...ehhhhhh......."
The reporter was expressing his fear not of the transformation process, but of the shape the horse took after it.
- Which was totally understandable.
The Headless Rider's beloved motorbike, which had been without a headlight in the motorbike form, kept that characteristic perfectly after the transformation.
Which meant -
The horse was "without a head".
- Heheh. I haven't seen him in the horse form since we roamed the forests on the Fuji mountain.
Celty stroked the horse's chopped neck proudly as she faced the reporter. She typed words in to her PDA in a firm manner, not seeming to mind his uncontrollable shaking.
[I believe you see what I mean. Now, if you'll excuse us......]
- Horses are "light vehicles" like bikes if I recall correctly, right?
Celty waited for the traffic light to change as she thought.
If clips of her horse were to be aired, most of the people would probably just think that the TV station had finally lost the ability to tell between news reports and sci-fi specials.
That was probably why the existence of "abnormal" creatures were never properly reported in the first place.
The traffic light situated at the crossing began to flash. Celty, knowing that the light would turn green any moment now, put her PDA back and contemplated the coolest way to leave the scene -
- Until, the next second -
"Oi."
A shudder ran down her spine and heart.
"Stand still, monster."
A too-familiar voice sounded from behind. Celty felt her entire body pulsate like the heart of a vivisected frog despite the complete absence of blood in her system.
You must not turn.
But you must turn.
Her instinct and rational thoughts warned her body in turn.
It was right behind her.
"Something" that she couldn't do anything about was right behind her.
Half of her wanted to at least make sure it was him before thinking of escape, while the other half told her to not waste a single second and just run for it -
She turned her sensors slowly towards her back as she heard unpleasant noises from her spine -
And there he was, the traffic cop with a refreshing grin on a white motorbike.
The human traffic police who had planted seeds of fear in her heart before was asking her in a flat tone as he put his foot on the accelerator with a half-pleased, half-mad expression on his face:
"Are you aware that even light vehicles aren't allowed to go on the road without headlights?"
The traffic light turned green.
At the same moment, Celty's peace was put to an end.
Laced by fear, the game of tag between the monster and humans had begun.
However, by the looks of it -
The monster was to be the chased one for a change.
♂♀
The roar pierced the Ikebukuro night as Shooter's giant hooves rang at the movement of his own body.
Celty, who was holding on to the reins that were originally the motorbike's handles, had forgotten to even transform him back into the motorbike.
Shooter, her horse, was a soul who combined dead horses with damaged carriages to form its body. When she set out for Japan, she let him take the form of an abandoned motorbike they found in a metal object disposal area. This was why he was capable of transforming between three forms now.
The headless horse running on its own.
The headless horse dragging an appropriately shaped carriage.
Or, to suit the needs of the modern society, the motorbike without a headlight.
But there was no time to conjure the carriage.
Celty could only hope that the powerful sound of hooves could save her from her ultimate fear, the white motorbike, whose exhaust pipe roared from behind.
The traffic light turned red again ahead of her.
The traffic began to flow on the road before her - if she were to charge into the traffic like this, she would not be able to avoid an accident.
Bodily injuries weren't a concern for Celty, but she couldn't bring herself to disregard the serious accidents that could happen if the drivers were scared out of their wits by her charging headless horse.
- Ahhh!
After making sure that no one was walking on the sidewalk, Celty pulled at the reins and made her horse turn sharply. She felt the pressure gnaw at her back as she decelerated - but there was no time for her to feel afraid. The Coiste-bodhar pranced on her orders.
The giant black creature easily cleared the guardrail and made straight for the outside wall of a building -
And "landed" on it.
From every hoof strings of shadow extended themselves and merged with the surface of the concrete wall.
It looked as if the horse's feet were stuck to the wall with some kind of magical tape that transcended human imagination. Shooter ran vertically onto the wall with Celty on his back at an amazing speed.
"Che! Don't you figure you can escape!"
The male on the white motorbike wasn't wavered in the least at the supernatural sight in front of him.
He made a U-turn to stop his motorbike and watched Celty's moves in silence.
Celty, who felt his stare tingle on her back, tried desperately to figure out a way to escape.
- God. God God God. This is bad. This is hopeless. Just hopeless. Completely hopeless. I'm screwed.
Celty could hardly make her own thoughts coherent. She made for the rooftop anyway.
She stopped for a while on the rooftop of the building, which was apparently a small apartment complex, and contemplated her means of escape.
- R - Right...how about -
And she came up with a plan.
(TO BE CONTINUED IN PART II)