Prompt: "Well, you said that you wanted ideas and i have to say that i love the idea of shinichi being a death god as well. maybe make kaito one of life, since when he's there hardly ever anyone dies."

Requestor: farawisa

Pairing: pre-deathgod!Shinichi x human!Kaito

Note(s): I admit, I thought about it for a really long time, but I had some difficulty trying to write Kaito as a god of life, sooooo… human!Kaito and preslash? Yeah.

Heaven Can Wait

"Oi! Kudou!"

Kudou Shinichi jumped at the sound of the familiarly accented voice echoing down the hall of the death god quarters, almost sighing in resignation. That could only be one person.

He turned around to find none other than Hattori Heiji, his fellow death god and best friend, bounding towards him, wearing a bright smile that contrasted sharply with the soul-shatteringly black robes he was wearing.

"Hello, Hattori," he greeted once the tan Osakan had drawn to a stop in front of him. "What's gotten you so happy? Did you just finish a job?"

"Not quite." Hattori grinned as he pulled his latest file out of his robe and flipped it open. He drew a fingertip lightly over the enclosed picture, glancing at Shinichi for his reaction. "Isn't she pretty?"

Stepping in, Shinichi raised an eyebrow at the picture. It was a pretty shot of a pretty girl, he had to admit. Though ponytails weren't his thing, to be honest. "Sure, I guess. Is she your latest?"

"Yep." Hattori beamed. "I got assigned to her. She's supposed to die in two weeks - hit by a car, I think." He tapped the "cause of (pending) death" line underneath the picture. "But isn't she pretty? And she's from Osaka, too!"

"A match made in heaven," Shinichi commented dryly, the humor of the statement not lost on either of them. Hattori's grin suddenly seemed a few watts less bright.

"That's right," he murmured, happiness tempered. "I guess there's no way, but... A man can hope, can't he?"

Not when he's a death god, Shinichi wanted to say. Not when she's a human who's going to die by his hand.

Shinichi didn't remember his life as a human.

Well – not quite. He could remember snippets – fragmented moments, little happy scenes that he knew probably hadn't represented his life well. After all, it was a fact that all death gods had led lives fraught by death and suffering. People who had thrived in those dark environments were selected by the board of death gods to be employed after death. You didn't really get a choice – if they wanted you, they got you.

The job of a death god was simple: judge humans. All humans had a predetermined lifespan and cause of death, randomly chosen. It was part of being born.

But sometimes those weren't quite… right. Sometimes the person had the potential to be great, and to remove them from the world so early would be detrimental to society. Sometimes the person's cause of death was not fitting.

And sometimes, the person really just didn't deserve to have their life cut short.

That was when death gods came in. Two weeks before the person's planned death, a death god was employed to observe them, see if they deserved their fate.

If they did, nothing happened – the person died as planned and went to heaven or hell, depending.

If they did not, the assigned death god had the duty of changing their fate – give them a few more years, change the cause of death. Make their destiny fit them better.

Needless to say, it was not a fun job.

"Who have you got for me today, Miyano?" Shinichi asked as he walked into the assignment office. "Another old man?"

Miyano Shiho, the pretty and dangerous assignment organizer for the Tokyo precinct, looked up from her stack of files, glasses balanced precariously on her nose. She leaned back, cracking a wry smile. "You're still bitter over that Agasa man, aren't you?"

"Whatever made you think that?" asked Shinichi breezily, draping himself over the edge of her desk. "Not like it was extremely difficult to judge him and I almost got suspended for giving him fourteen more years because someone else thought he deserved his death. No, of course that's all forgotten. That was decades ago."

Quirking an eyebrow, Shiho just shook her head at him. "You can sure hold a grudge. At least I wasn't the one who assigned you Mouri-chan," she replied, watching him carefully.

Shinichi froze. "We don't talk about Ran, Miyano," he bit out, and Shiho threw up her hands.

"Right, right," she sighed, digging through her folders. "Anyway, I found you one that seems like it'll be an open and shut. Here."

Accepting the folder, Shinichi flicked it open. His eyebrows shot up at the included picture. "Well." He coughed.

Spinning a pen idly, Shiho smirked with amusement. "Thought you'd like him. He's nice-looking, isn't he? Looks a bit like you."

"Aw, you think I'm nice-looking?" Shinichi grinned mockingly at Shiho, who went red and began sputtering incomprehensibly, before giving her a quick salute. "Anyway, I'm off."

As he left a blushing Shiho in his wake, he perused the file, eyebrows furrowed.

"Ekoda, is it?"

Landing softly on the roof of the house opposite his new assignment's own home, Shinichi studied the house intently for a second. It was modest, nothing superbly outlandish, with a well-kept little rose garden and a fairly simple floor plan. So far, nothing out of the ordinary.

With a large, graceful leap, Shinichi leapt down lightly into the front yard. He reached into his robes to glance over the folder again. According to this schedule, this guy should be still at home. He had a good half-hour until his classes at the… high school began?

Frowning, Shinichi quickly looked over at the personal information on the man. He was only eighteen? Wasn't he a bit young to be dying soon by a… (Shinichi scanned the cause of death line underneath the picture) gunshot wound?

The sound of the front door opening brought Shinichi out of his confusion. Jerking, he looked up –

– and made eye contact with an indigo-eyed, messy-haired young man. The one from Shinichi's file.

Shinichi jumped, startled. He was about to start swearing when he remembered that the guy couldn't see him – he was a death god. But why did it feel like those indigo eyes were drilling straight into Shinichi's –

"Damn. A death god," the man said, sounding astounded. "There's a death god standing in my front yard."

Sucking in a breath, Shinichi took a step backwards. What was going on here? He wasn't supposed to be able to see Shinichi, so… "You can see me?"

"Uh, yes," the human answered weakly, eyes still wide. "You're a pale guy radiating death and gloom in black death god robes with very cowlick-y hair. I can see you all right."

Shinichi arched an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I approve of that description." Without waiting for a response, he looked back down into the file in his hands, mouth dry. This was bad. The last time a human had been able to see him… that had been Ran…

Clearing his throat, Shinichi glanced back up. "You're Kuroba Kaito, correct?" he asked, businesslike.

"Yep, that's me." Kaito sagged against the doorframe. "Am I going to die now?"

"Not now. Soon. Er, well…" Shinichi wondered if he should tell him about how the death god system worked. "It's still up in the air right now, but it's a possibility, yes." He paused. "How can you see me?"

Kaito stared at him as if he had asked why sheep existed. "With my eyes."

"Oh." Most people can't. "I see."

Shinichi stood there uncomfortably for a good deal of minutes before Kaito timidly offered, "Well, uh, do you want to come inside?"

And thus ends the beginning of yet another fic that I don't think I'll be able to finish.

E-Er, hope you enjoyed, farawisa? *awkward smile*

See you guys around! – Luna