Repost!
I privated a story while I reconsidered writing it at all, but I think I'm gonna actually finish this one, so here we go.
Detective Conan fandom - no Magic Kaito, sorry. >__>; Because for Conan, death is always just the beginning. XD;;
AU, and not a particularly original concept, although I do hope this is an original take on it. XD;; We've all noticed that death happens near Conan. Here's a stab at why.
9.17.95
Some people believe in god, and other people in a god of death.
Most people consider me cynical, and I suppose I am, at that. But while I used to think myself a god of death, with my chemicals and toxins, I no longer am so foolish as to claim that name. Somewhere, a real god of death may be laughing at me.
It is my unfortunate realization, however, that I have unleashed one upon the world at large.
ch. 1: the first one
He had been 12 when he'd met the old man, bent by his years and from bending down to humor too many children and grandchildren (and even great-grandchildren). His smile was wide and low on teeth, but warm with affection. He'd patted the quite-disenchanted Shin'ichi on the head and ruffled his hair and said to Yusaku, "I like this one. He's got bright eyes."
"What's bright eyes got to do with anything?" Shin'ichi had demanded to know, his arms crossed and his feet planted wide.
"He means you're smart, Shin'ichi," Yusaku had started to explain, and his son gave him a withering glare.
"I know that," he said haughtily, and was surprised when the old man shook his head.
"No," he said, his smile slow and wide. "I mean, you've got bright eyes."
He never did explain why that mattered.
* * *
Yusaku said that he'd been a family friend for years, and used that as his excuse when he sent Shin'ichi off for the summer vacation to stay with the old man. Shin'ichi went (unwillingly), and pouted for the first three days while the old man cheerfully let him, going about his own business as if Shin'ichi wasn't there. But the old man had a curious ritual - every morning, he would read through the phone book and circle three or four names, then record their phone number and name in a little book. He never called the numbers nor looked back at the page from the day before.
On the fourth day, Shin'ichi funk finally gave way to curiosity, and he leaned over his cereal, craning his neck to see. "What are you doing, mister?" he asked through a mouthful of Raisin Bran.
"Marking people for death," the man said cheerfully, and Shin'ichi frowned.
"You mean you kill them?" he asked sharply.
The old man looked at him for a long moment, then he smiled again. "You want to be a detective, don't you, young man?" he asked.
Shin'ichi scowled and nodded. "I am one already," he added.
"Mmhmm," the old man nodded, evidently impressed, and Shin'ichi's irritation was somewhat abetted. "Do you think I kill these people?"
"... you don't do it in person, 'cause you don't have the time. Or the strength, I don't think," Shin'ichi added, cradling his chin in his hand and looking at the man speculatively. "Can I see your notebook?"
He was spectacularly cooperative for a murder suspect, and Shin'ichi looked over the list of names, which extended from the first page of the little book onwards. His eyes widened as he realized that he recognized some of the names: "Mairouko Suou - she killed herself. And I remember Hiromu Arakawa - he was killed by - by his brother. Over the family inheritance." He looked up; obviously the old man didn't kill the people in this book. "Did everyone whose name you wrote down die? Do you mark the changes in the phone book for the next printing or something?" The old man had never told Shin'ichi what he did for a living, after all.
"No," the old man said, still smiling, and he accepted back the notebook. "But they all die, yes." He put the notebook in his pocket and drank some of the coffee he had made for himself.
Shin'ichi paid attention to the tense that he used. "They die after you put their names in the book?" he asked quizically. "But that's impossible. You'd have to know the future."
Or you do kill them,, he thought, but didn't say.
The man just smiled at him.
* * *
Shin'ichi began to always read the names that the man put down in his little book, and then he watched the news to find out if anything happened to them. Seven of them ended up on the news over the summer, and all of them had died, but in different ways - three by accidents, one by suicide, and three others were murdered. Shin'ichi was mystified; it couldn't be coincidence because there were thousands of names to choose from, and the percent chance was too small with just three or four names circled. The man was predicting who would die.
"How do you do it?" he demanded on the last day of his vacation. "Detectives solve crimes when they already happened, they don't predict them happening before!"
"It's because I'm killing them," the old man answered, and he patted Shin'ichi on the head again. "Soon, you'll figure it out."
Three days later, the man circled his own name in the phone book.
He died when his heart gave out that same day.
note to self: if you are nekokoban or beckymarie, talk to me, soon, because I'm actually feeling kind of inspired and I would like to write fic for you.)
Detective Conan fandom - no Magic Kaito, sorry. >__>; Because for Conan, death is always just the beginning. XD;;
AU, and not a particularly original concept, although I do hope this is an original take on it. XD;; We've all noticed that death happens near Conan. Here's a stab at why.
9.17.95
Some people believe in god, and other people in a god of death.
Most people consider me cynical, and I suppose I am, at that. But while I used to think myself a god of death, with my chemicals and toxins, I no longer am so foolish as to claim that name. Somewhere, a real god of death may be laughing at me.
It is my unfortunate realization, however, that I have unleashed one upon the world at large.
ch. 1: the first one
He had been 12 when he'd met the old man, bent by his years and from bending down to humor too many children and grandchildren (and even great-grandchildren). His smile was wide and low on teeth, but warm with affection. He'd patted the quite-disenchanted Shin'ichi on the head and ruffled his hair and said to Yusaku, "I like this one. He's got bright eyes."
"What's bright eyes got to do with anything?" Shin'ichi had demanded to know, his arms crossed and his feet planted wide.
"He means you're smart, Shin'ichi," Yusaku had started to explain, and his son gave him a withering glare.
"I know that," he said haughtily, and was surprised when the old man shook his head.
"No," he said, his smile slow and wide. "I mean, you've got bright eyes."
He never did explain why that mattered.
* * *
Yusaku said that he'd been a family friend for years, and used that as his excuse when he sent Shin'ichi off for the summer vacation to stay with the old man. Shin'ichi went (unwillingly), and pouted for the first three days while the old man cheerfully let him, going about his own business as if Shin'ichi wasn't there. But the old man had a curious ritual - every morning, he would read through the phone book and circle three or four names, then record their phone number and name in a little book. He never called the numbers nor looked back at the page from the day before.
On the fourth day, Shin'ichi funk finally gave way to curiosity, and he leaned over his cereal, craning his neck to see. "What are you doing, mister?" he asked through a mouthful of Raisin Bran.
"Marking people for death," the man said cheerfully, and Shin'ichi frowned.
"You mean you kill them?" he asked sharply.
The old man looked at him for a long moment, then he smiled again. "You want to be a detective, don't you, young man?" he asked.
Shin'ichi scowled and nodded. "I am one already," he added.
"Mmhmm," the old man nodded, evidently impressed, and Shin'ichi's irritation was somewhat abetted. "Do you think I kill these people?"
"... you don't do it in person, 'cause you don't have the time. Or the strength, I don't think," Shin'ichi added, cradling his chin in his hand and looking at the man speculatively. "Can I see your notebook?"
He was spectacularly cooperative for a murder suspect, and Shin'ichi looked over the list of names, which extended from the first page of the little book onwards. His eyes widened as he realized that he recognized some of the names: "Mairouko Suou - she killed herself. And I remember Hiromu Arakawa - he was killed by - by his brother. Over the family inheritance." He looked up; obviously the old man didn't kill the people in this book. "Did everyone whose name you wrote down die? Do you mark the changes in the phone book for the next printing or something?" The old man had never told Shin'ichi what he did for a living, after all.
"No," the old man said, still smiling, and he accepted back the notebook. "But they all die, yes." He put the notebook in his pocket and drank some of the coffee he had made for himself.
Shin'ichi paid attention to the tense that he used. "They die after you put their names in the book?" he asked quizically. "But that's impossible. You'd have to know the future."
Or you do kill them,, he thought, but didn't say.
The man just smiled at him.
* * *
Shin'ichi began to always read the names that the man put down in his little book, and then he watched the news to find out if anything happened to them. Seven of them ended up on the news over the summer, and all of them had died, but in different ways - three by accidents, one by suicide, and three others were murdered. Shin'ichi was mystified; it couldn't be coincidence because there were thousands of names to choose from, and the percent chance was too small with just three or four names circled. The man was predicting who would die.
"How do you do it?" he demanded on the last day of his vacation. "Detectives solve crimes when they already happened, they don't predict them happening before!"
"It's because I'm killing them," the old man answered, and he patted Shin'ichi on the head again. "Soon, you'll figure it out."
Three days later, the man circled his own name in the phone book.
He died when his heart gave out that same day.
note to self: if you are nekokoban or beckymarie, talk to me, soon, because I'm actually feeling kind of inspired and I would like to write fic for you.)