Parcly Taxel: While watching some random anime at breakfast I picked a thick-collared sweater for today's outing, and an idea hatched in my dreamy mind.

Anime and manga together have a propensity for exploring absurd situations (which is why artists like me draw them). One anime series involves a dullahan motorcyclist, Celty Sturluson (I know, the name is cringeworthy), looking for her head in Ikebukuro (池袋) while caught up in general silliness. I am myself a dullahan through genie magic, and the thick collar would keep my neck stump warm and sheltered, so I made it a point to "cosplay" as Celty.

Spindle: After donning the sweater Parcly grabbed her own neck and flipped it hard backwards, twisting it a little in the motion. Her eyelids shut softly, a faint aura necklace appeared and then burst into its full purple hue with a pop, levitating her detached head upright. Strapped like a saddlebag, her body was ready.

Parcly: Since I had woken up earlier I could return to the Tsukuji outer market and have the dish "served just 20 times a day" at 11am: tuna cheek steak. The egg stalls were closed though.

I am aware of other dullahans with their own quirks, such as the chimeric Hearth Taxel, but as a headless horse I don't lose any sensation or control in my head or body. When I eat or drink I feel the swallowed food rub on my gullet on both halves as if I was whole – my neck stump is featureless, albeit sensitive, and an inner portal crosses the air gap.

Spindle: A few crossings later we were on the main street of Ginza itself, the true shopping capital of Tokyo. Nearly every ground-level shop hosts a foreign brand, a large brand, both in one entity or a department store; the 12-storey Uniqlo building (sole tenancy!) on this street is, by what I've heard, the world's largest.

Parcly: Between shops on this Saddle Row sandwiched by two neat rows of Japanese flags – the Hinomaru (日の丸) as some call the immensely symbolic and prized circle on it – I partook in another local New Year's tradition, mochi cakes. The specific variety I bought had a strawberry core and red bean paste "mantle" within the expected glutinous rice "crust", sprinkled with flour all around.

Flakes of flour fell onto my neck stump, which I used as an improvised plate, and my sweater, sending comforting tickles down my spine when I blew it off.

Rainbow Dash: This is not supposed to be product placement, you egghead.

Parcly: [rolls head along floor] While I do know what those Ginza brands are I don't patronise them at all. How can I be sponsored by them? I'm just giving a factual account of the place.

Rainbow: In that case, sorry for intruding. When you mentioned the Uniqlo building I jumped to conclusions.

Parcly: When I found somewhere comfortable to sit, like a cushioned chair or beanbag, I let my head rest and pampered my neck stump, leaving passers-by to wonder whether I was really Celty Sturluson. Then Spindle would rouse me to move somewhere else.

Spindle: Eventually we hopped onto the Tokyo Metro and exited at Omotesandō again. Now, however, we delved into its other and sleepier side: small-town Tokyo hosting independent cafés and shops (most closed), power and telecom lines still strung overhead, candidate posters for the Diet of Japan here and there. The eye of a storm, perhaps.

Parcly: Once we got through this patch of uneasy serenity we found a Luke's Lobster spot, and I promptly ordered a shrimp/lobster sandwich from it. Having totally run out of ideas we went back to the apartment, riding end-to-end on the Hanzomon Line (半蔵門線) in the process.

There was something I hadn't done as a dullahan yet though...

Rainbow: Tokyo NIGHTLIFE! As the first workday of the year Parcly and Spindle could expect shopping centres to be just right with respect to crowdedness, since the workforce has separate preferences for late-night food and entertainment. Incidentally Celty (aka "Black Rider") is often seen in similar environs.

Spindle: Riding Hanzomon all the way back to Shibuya Scramble Square we located an Italian restaurant on floor 13 – mildly fitting for a dullahan – and ordered cream-and-mushroom tagliatelle alongside Parcly's favourite prosciutto/cheese combo. My dear dullahan wriggled her neck while it held some of the long pasta strings, leaving her headless body to look cute.