Bleach/Detective Conan: Don't Go Before I Do
Okay, I said I was going to just edit that Death Gods draft and change the access level, but I changed my mind. I'm going to keep the f-locked draft and repost this final public version. Because it's about time I got this series kicked off, darnit. What series? The Bleach/Detective Conan crossover series, Death Gods. In my head, it's tied with Worlds Apart for the second-biggest series, period, right behind TZC. Of course, none of that means a thing unless I actually post something, does it? So, on with the show.
Title: Don't Go Before I Do
Word Count: 626
Rating: PG
Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or Detective Conan, and that's probably for the best.
Summary: Conan dies on the job. Ichigo takes it personally.
Notes: Long notes, but essential ones. Bear with me. Currently, the only fic from this series that I have posted is Regret, but that's the last fic in the series, chronologically. And this one is not the first. Yeah, I know, real helpful. So, here's what you need to know to not be lost. Both Conan and Ichigo in this series are...considerably more broken than in canon. Conan has gone through a scenario very like the one I set up in Witness and Ritual--basically, he's found out that he'll never be Shinichi again and hasn't taken it very well. The Ichigo in this series has been through war, with all that implies, so emotionally, he's not much better. I guess what I'm trying to say is that if they seem more subdued and more on-edge than you expect, that's because they're supposed to be that way. I haven't written the fic that explains it yet, so you'll just have to trust me.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Conan had always half-assumed that he was living on borrowed time and some day-possibly some day soon-he would be the spirit Ichigo came to konso. He still wasn’t prepared for it to actually happen. He'd been chasing a criminal over a rooftop when out of nowhere, a bullet struck the ground barely a foot away, sending chips of cement flying. Conan flinched at precisely the wrong moment, lost his footing and then lost the roof beneath his feet.
"He died on impact" sounded so much worse when it was said over his broken corpse.
That was when Ichigo arrived. He'd taken to seeking out the newly-dead right away, in order to prevent what would likely be a never-ending plague of hollows otherwise. Shinichi stood up straight at the faint sound of Ichigo's foot hitting the ground as he came out of shunpo, then turned and looked the shinigami straight in the eyes.
Wait, what?
"Who the fuck are you?!" Ichigo demanded angrily.
"I'm..." Shinichi looked down at himself in shock. It couldn't be. "I'm me!"
"Well congratu-fucking-lations, asshole, but if you don't-"
"Ichigo!"
Naturally, Ichigo's right hand flew to his sword's hilt. "How the hell do you know my name?"
Shinichi opened his mouth to answer, but Ichigo interrupted him before he could go any farther.
"Wait-Conan?"
No. No, no, no, no, NO. "Shinichi," he corrected firmly.
Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "Shinichi," he repeated. The thoroughly-named detective felt an odd pressure against something inside his...mind? Spirit? He couldn't tell. After only a few seconds, the pressure abruptly got exponentially worse, and brought with it the unmistakable sound of driving rain.
"I don't fucking think so."
Now it was Shinichi's turn to get angry. "Excuse me?" he hissed. "What did you just say?"
Of course Ichigo didn't back down. "You heard me," he challenged, "you think you get to take the easy way out?"
"Easy?" Conan-Shinichi-sputtered. "What the hell is easy about-"
"You die. I konso you. You go to Soul Society. You become a shinigami or solve mysteries in Rukongai or what the fuck ever. Meanwhile someone has to come ID what's left of your body. They've got to bury you. They've got to move on. They never get any answers-"
"Now hang on just a-" Shinichi started, but Ichigo wouldn’t be interrupted this time.
"Wonder who they'll get to ID you. Where's Ran this time of day, Shinichi?"
"You fucking bastard!" Shinichi’s vision went pure crimson. He lunged at Ichigo, so enraged that he no longer had a care that this was a death god he was attacking, there wasn't anything he could do to hurt him.
Ichigo was ready for him. "That's my line, asshole," he snarled. He raised one hand, glowing white-hot with a previously unseen power and slammed it into Shinichi's chest with a force that made the impact that killed him seem paltry in comparison.
For one eternal, frozen second, Shinichi just hung on the edge of what felt like his second death in as many minutes. Then Conan was unceremoniously jolted back into his body, feeling the residual power of the strike that sent him there turn his fatal injuries into merely life-threatening ones.
"Merely" life-threatening, Conan thought wryly, I shouldn’t find that to be acceptable. He opened his eyes to see a still-furious but somewhat calmer Ichigo standing over him. If I can't take the easy way out, then you can't either, he tried to say, but his voice didn't seem to be working yet.
Ichigo snorted and rolled his eyes. The sound of rain faded from Conan’s hearing. “Whatever, brat,” Beika’s shinigami muttered.
Whatever it took to keep them both alive and living.
Title: Don't Go Before I Do
Word Count: 626
Rating: PG
Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or Detective Conan, and that's probably for the best.
Summary: Conan dies on the job. Ichigo takes it personally.
Notes: Long notes, but essential ones. Bear with me. Currently, the only fic from this series that I have posted is Regret, but that's the last fic in the series, chronologically. And this one is not the first. Yeah, I know, real helpful. So, here's what you need to know to not be lost. Both Conan and Ichigo in this series are...considerably more broken than in canon. Conan has gone through a scenario very like the one I set up in Witness and Ritual--basically, he's found out that he'll never be Shinichi again and hasn't taken it very well. The Ichigo in this series has been through war, with all that implies, so emotionally, he's not much better. I guess what I'm trying to say is that if they seem more subdued and more on-edge than you expect, that's because they're supposed to be that way. I haven't written the fic that explains it yet, so you'll just have to trust me.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Conan had always half-assumed that he was living on borrowed time and some day-possibly some day soon-he would be the spirit Ichigo came to konso. He still wasn’t prepared for it to actually happen. He'd been chasing a criminal over a rooftop when out of nowhere, a bullet struck the ground barely a foot away, sending chips of cement flying. Conan flinched at precisely the wrong moment, lost his footing and then lost the roof beneath his feet.
"He died on impact" sounded so much worse when it was said over his broken corpse.
That was when Ichigo arrived. He'd taken to seeking out the newly-dead right away, in order to prevent what would likely be a never-ending plague of hollows otherwise. Shinichi stood up straight at the faint sound of Ichigo's foot hitting the ground as he came out of shunpo, then turned and looked the shinigami straight in the eyes.
Wait, what?
"Who the fuck are you?!" Ichigo demanded angrily.
"I'm..." Shinichi looked down at himself in shock. It couldn't be. "I'm me!"
"Well congratu-fucking-lations, asshole, but if you don't-"
"Ichigo!"
Naturally, Ichigo's right hand flew to his sword's hilt. "How the hell do you know my name?"
Shinichi opened his mouth to answer, but Ichigo interrupted him before he could go any farther.
"Wait-Conan?"
No. No, no, no, no, NO. "Shinichi," he corrected firmly.
Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "Shinichi," he repeated. The thoroughly-named detective felt an odd pressure against something inside his...mind? Spirit? He couldn't tell. After only a few seconds, the pressure abruptly got exponentially worse, and brought with it the unmistakable sound of driving rain.
"I don't fucking think so."
Now it was Shinichi's turn to get angry. "Excuse me?" he hissed. "What did you just say?"
Of course Ichigo didn't back down. "You heard me," he challenged, "you think you get to take the easy way out?"
"Easy?" Conan-Shinichi-sputtered. "What the hell is easy about-"
"You die. I konso you. You go to Soul Society. You become a shinigami or solve mysteries in Rukongai or what the fuck ever. Meanwhile someone has to come ID what's left of your body. They've got to bury you. They've got to move on. They never get any answers-"
"Now hang on just a-" Shinichi started, but Ichigo wouldn’t be interrupted this time.
"Wonder who they'll get to ID you. Where's Ran this time of day, Shinichi?"
"You fucking bastard!" Shinichi’s vision went pure crimson. He lunged at Ichigo, so enraged that he no longer had a care that this was a death god he was attacking, there wasn't anything he could do to hurt him.
Ichigo was ready for him. "That's my line, asshole," he snarled. He raised one hand, glowing white-hot with a previously unseen power and slammed it into Shinichi's chest with a force that made the impact that killed him seem paltry in comparison.
For one eternal, frozen second, Shinichi just hung on the edge of what felt like his second death in as many minutes. Then Conan was unceremoniously jolted back into his body, feeling the residual power of the strike that sent him there turn his fatal injuries into merely life-threatening ones.
"Merely" life-threatening, Conan thought wryly, I shouldn’t find that to be acceptable. He opened his eyes to see a still-furious but somewhat calmer Ichigo standing over him. If I can't take the easy way out, then you can't either, he tried to say, but his voice didn't seem to be working yet.
Ichigo snorted and rolled his eyes. The sound of rain faded from Conan’s hearing. “Whatever, brat,” Beika’s shinigami muttered.
Whatever it took to keep them both alive and living.