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434 And You… Are My Happiness
🕑 Added 2025-08-08 15:00:20 +0000 UTC“Finish today’s business today—so if we just keep today going forever, we’ll have more time. Isn’t that what you taught me, Kyousuke?”
Sakura murmured the words, but before Kyousuke could answer, she tilted her head and asked, “Why didn’t you bring Celty-san back with you?”
Kyousuke didn’t bother with something meaningless like Why would I bring Celty home?
Not when the girl in his arms knew him inside and out—every little flaw, every petty thought—better than anyone.
“She thought it would be terribly rude to show up at someone’s home in the middle of the night.”
The moment she heard his invitation, Celty had shaken her yellow, cat-faced helmet so hard it nearly flew off.
Good thing those two girls who’d followed them all the way from Gunma to Tokyo were already too drunk to tell east from west—otherwise they might never dare to step outside after dark again.
“Celty hasn’t changed a bit.”
Something seemed to pop into Sakura’s mind, and she laughed to herself, the clear sound like a pebble tossed into a still lake, sending ripples across the moonlit surface.
“It’s like the ripples in the pond… but it’s her laugh that moves them.”
“If Celty knew there were this many people at home, she’d probably freeze like a statue.”
The thought made Sakura’s laughter grow brighter, richer.
“Tomorrow—I’ll just trick her into coming over,” she declared happily.
“Sure.”
Kyousuke had no objections.
If he invited Celty, she might still come out of politeness, unable to outright refuse.
But if Sakura did it? Even if it was blatant trickery, Celty would only grumble a little and then accept the prank without question.
That was Sakura for you—forever pulling pranks, some harmless, some enough to make a person explode with rage.
And if someone swore they’d never speak to her again, she would work tirelessly to win their forgiveness.
If someone played the same kind of prank on her, she’d graciously offer them a chance to make it up to her.
Over the years, it never changed—tireless, unrepentant, always ready for more.
So why was it that this kind of girl—someone you’d expect to get on everyone’s nerves—was doted on by the flower-crowned Hojou Mikiko.
Regarded as a number-one rival by Ueno Naoka, clung to by Shouko in daydreams of the future, and scolded (with zero success) by the shrine maiden of the Miyamizu family?
That was a secret only they knew, each wearing the same helpless smile, swearing, ‘Next time, I definitely won’t forgive you!’
Celty was just one more victim on a long list.
The first time they met, Sakura had asked to see her “hidden side.” That was the start of their fateful connection.
Without Kyousuke ever knowing, the two of them had spent countless happy moments together.
The Dullahan who’d crossed oceans to come to Japan had, in fact, left the country for many years because of her.
“How do you think without a head?”
“Do your head and body share the same brain?”
“Can you play rock-paper-scissors with your head?”
“After you find your head, will your body still remember everything?”
“What if your head likes food your body doesn’t?”
“Since you’re called a Dullahan, weren’t you headless to begin with?”
Celty might have been a certified “head enthusiast,” but Yamauchi Sakura had taken it to an entirely new level.
She could have compiled a whole encyclopedia titled One Hundred Thousand Questions About Heads.
It was terrifying.
If a traffic cop were chasing her and muttering all those questions, Celty would probably wrap herself in a ball of black mist and disappear.
So instead of staying in Tokyo to guard for her head’s return, Celty set out on a journey.
She wanted to answer Sakura’s question: Is there only one Dullahan?
Her answer had always been an unshakable, Of course there’s only one.
It was common sense—didn’t even need thinking about.
But then Sakura threw another curveball:
“If you’re a fairy doing the work of a grim reaper, how can you manage the job just by riding a horse?”
Right.
Even if Ireland was small, one Dullahan alone couldn’t possibly collect every soul—her Shúdán would drop dead from exhaustion.
So Celty decided to search for others of her kind—to see whether they kept their heads attached, and to ask how they got along with them.
“You have to learn how to get along, or else, when you finally find your head, you might have a fight and it could run away again. A runaway head would be terrifying!”
Celty had written Sakura’s words in her notebook with heartfelt agreement.
Nobody understood better than she did how awful it was for a head to run away.
She’d suffered it for far too long, swearing countless times that when she found her head again, she’d treat it well.
If she ever lost it again because of her own actions, she’d never forgive herself.
To her, Sakura wasn’t teasing—she was a wise, if eccentric, philosopher.
“Of course, you could also exchange contact info with other Dullahans. If a head ever does want to run away, you could…”
Too scary! How could Sakura think of something so wicked? Someone else’s head…!
Celty had shaken her head frantically.
The thought alone was too much. And so, one afternoon when Sakura invited her for coffee, she quietly boarded a ship bound for Scotland.
“Celty said she’s got an amazing gift for you,” Kyousuke added.
Seeing the girl he loved being loved by others too filled his heart with joy.
That Dullahan wasn’t just avoiding a midnight visit—she also wanted to stay behind to care for the two girls from Gunma who were dead drunk in a hotel.
She was just that kind.
“I hope she finds someone like her,” Sakura murmured.
“I’m her kind.”
Kyousuke gave Sakura’s hand a squeeze.
In more ways than one, he could be called a monster.
At his core, he was a soul from another world—in any web novel, he’d be the demon from beyond the heavens, here to steal away the most exceptional girls under the sky.
“Then I am too!”
Sakura lifted one leg, pointing her tiny foot high, five round little toes splaying wide.
Under the moonlight, her pink nail polish glowed pearl white, glittering adorably.
Kyousuke reached out, carefully touching that small foot.
The toes curled in surprise, then defiantly stretched again, teasingly scratching at his palm—only to shrink back once more, over and over.
The girl lying on his lap was already laughing so hard she was shaking, her cheeks flushed, her whole body trembling with mirth.
Neither of them spoke.
Sakura fought the urge to beg for mercy, choosing instead to keep giggling helplessly while Kyousuke toyed with her dainty little foot like a cat teasing a mouse.
“Ah—it tickles, Kyousuke~~” she whined in a half-crying voice.
It was her signal of surrender.
Kyousuke, declaring victory without words, let go of her foot and instead gave her cheek a playful pinch, making her scrunch her nose in protest.
When Sakura shifted position—curling up on her side into a small bundle, still catching her breath from all the laughter—Kyousuke slid the arm she’d been hugging out from under her.
His hand traveled down to clasp both of her small feet together under the blanket, warming them, and then he began to quietly recount everything that had happened that night.
The chaotic brawl at the dojo.
The sights along the Kan-etsu Expressway—how many uphills, how many downhills, the temperature of the wind, the way the city lights shifted.
The quirky souvenirs at the gas station.
What they sang at karaoke.
The treacherous five consecutive hairpins of Mount Haruna.
The unfriendly local street racers.
Celty’s tangled love-hate drama with the policewoman’s daughter…
One story after another.
No embellishments, no dramatics—just plain, simple telling.
Yet Sakura listened intently, her earlier breathless laughter gradually quieting into calm, steady breaths.
When he got to the part about Celty still wearing her helmet at the izakaya and being teased by Hoshizuki, he realized the silver-bell-like laughter he expected never came.
The breathing in his arms had grown slow and even.
“Asleep?”
He lowered his head to study Sakura’s now-tranquil face.
Her lashes trembled faintly, her eyes moving restlessly beneath their lids.
‘Even asleep, she’s not at peace,’ he thought with a smile.
Gently, he brushed aside the messy strands of hair on her forehead and leaned in, intending to kiss her.
But the moment he dipped his head, her eyes flew open—bright, lively, and utterly awake, with not a trace of drowsiness.
They locked onto his, brimming with vitality, and Kyousuke froze, breath caught, ensnared by the dazzling light in her gaze.
In his heart, she had always been the most beautiful girl in the world—but in that moment, her eyes were so breathtaking, it startled even him.
Unfortunately, the moment didn’t last.
Unable to win a staring contest to save her life, Sakura blinked first, her expression flipping in an instant from serene beauty to playful mischief.
“Heehee~ Kyousuke, I totally fooled you, didn’t I?” she said with a smug little grin.
“Yeah… I really thought you were dreaming already.”
Kyousuke nodded honestly.
From every sign, she had seemed deep in sleep.
“It took me ages to pull that off!” Sakura said proudly.
As a child, she used to pretend to be asleep just to sneak-attack him in the night and scare him.
Growing up hadn’t changed the goal—only the kind of “attack.”
“I know exactly how I breathe when I’m asleep, how my eyes move, how my fingers twitch… Nobody else in the world knows but you—and me!”
Her smugness grew, as if knowing herself better than anyone else—especially Kyousuke—was something worth boasting about.
“And you know, it’s not just when I’m asleep—there’s also—”
She never finished.
Kyousuke didn’t care whether she was sleeping or not—he still intended to do what he’d been about to do earlier.
With quiet determination, he leaned in and kissed her smooth forehead.
The moonlight around them felt as soft as ever, and her skin was still warm, untouched by the night’s chill.
When his lips left her forehead, Sakura pouted, grumbling in mock outrage:
“So! Why wasn’t it here?”
She pointed at her lips, which she was now pursing like a slide ramp.
Kyousuke only pressed his lips together in amusement.
“Because I had some alcohol tonight.”
“Hmm~~”
She gave two exaggerated huffs, her nose twitching, about to turn away in pretend sulk.
Kyousuke was already thinking about how to placate her—when suddenly, her arms seemed to appear from another dimension, wrapping around his neck in one swift move.
Whether she pulled herself up or bent his surprisingly flexible body down, neither of them knew.
“But I want to know what you’ve been drinking, Kyousuke,” she murmured—though her words were muffled between their joining lips.
Kyousuke’s eyes widened, his hands instinctively sliding around her waist to hold her gently.
It was only a light kiss, but seeing his surprised expression, Sakura’s eyes curved into crescents as she licked her lips playfully.
“Mm~ Beer… and beef short ribs.”
“That’s all you got from it!?” Kyousuke burst out, incredulous.
Ten years of buildup for a kiss, and this was the result?
Sakura only squinted mischievously at him, one arm still around his neck.
With her other hand, she reached up and let her fingers trail along his lips—index, middle, ring—soft and cool, like silk brushing over them.
It was as if she were trying to engrave every familiar crease of his lips into her memory, deeper than before.
Her golden, cat-like eyes didn’t waver, fixed on his with an unblinking gaze.
Under the moonlight, the lips he knew as sakura-petal pink now looked softly pearl-white—beautiful in the way Mount Fuji emerges from behind the clouds.
“Kyousuke… your lips are as magnificent as Mount Fuji,” she whispered.
Kyousuke wasn’t surprised.
She’d said the same thing when they were children—that was the day he learned Mount Fuji could even be used as a compliment.
Her fingers still traced his lips, neither teasing nor tempting—just gentle, with no urgency.
The air between them felt as soft and natural as moonlight, as natural as the girl leaning against the doorframe all those years ago.
Finally, as if confirming these were indeed the lips she loved, Sakura wrapped her arms back around his neck. Slowly, her soft lips brushed his once more.
“My soul rests on yours,” she murmured dreamily. “The light you give off is the oxygen I live on.”
Kyousuke drew in a deep breath, as though trying to take her soul into himself.
“And you… are my happiness.”
It wasn’t a practiced kiss.
It wasn’t even skillful.
He simply held her close, their lips touching in clumsy affection—as if that alone was enough to hear the love spoken by each other’s souls.
