Setting: Pushing Daisies AU
Rating: T
Genre: Mystery, Romance
Characters: Ryouta, Imposter, Kizakura
Warnings: Temporary human and animal death, implied child abuse
Word Count: 1,253
A/N: It's October, so I had to write something for the occasion. Originally this wasn't the thing I was supposed to work on until I get back to the KagePro AU but then a Pushing Daisies gifset landed on my dash and I got pulled back in. Young Tsukasa is still just Sagishi, I just changed the reading of the kanji for imposter into something that's actually a name.
Also, probably the longest I've ever written in one sitting in a long while.
Darling, Dearest, Dead
Chapter 1: Bitter Sweets
At this very moment in the sleepy town of Nozogahara, young Tsukasa was ten years, twenty weeks, ten days, and twenty minutes old. His Labrador, Mills, was four years, five weeks, eight days, and three hours old.
And not a second older.
Right as Mills ran into the road, young Tsukasa chasing after him, an 18–wheeler truck zoomed past, killing the poor dog instantly.
Young Tsukasa, witnessing all this, immediately ran down from the hill he was on to check on Mills. The dog looked exactly as he did a second ago. Except he was dead. Young Tsukasa tenderly petted Mills' snout for what he thought was the last time as he choked back a sob.
Mills sat up and barked as he ran off again.
This was the moment young Tsukasa realized he wasn't like other children. Or like anyone else for that matter. Young Tsukasa could touch dead things and bring them back to life.
Nearby, a squirrel who also witnessed all this fell from a sakura tree, dead.
It was a gift given to him not by anyone in particular. There was no box, no user's manual, no warranty. It just was. He supposed it probably made him a reverse Shinigami, having heard about them four weeks and four days ago from a bedtime story.
The terms of service of young Tsukasa's gift weren't immediately clear. Nor were they of any immediate concern. Young Tsukasa was in love.
His name was Ryouta. He was ten years, four weeks, fifteen days, and four hours old. Young Tsukasa, watching him play with a tattered brown stuffed bear from a window, did not think that Ryouta was born the same way as everyone else. Ryouta seemed like he came ready–made from a factory that produced the dolls displayed during Hinamatsuri. In their imaginations, young Tsukasa and the boy called Ryouta were the protagonists of every anime they could possibly think of. At least, as long as Ryouta's health permitted it.
Long after their shared afternoon was over, young Tsukasa was still thinking of Ryouta. Until a blood clot from their butler Aloysius' leg broke off and blocked the blood flow into his lungs as he dusted the grime off young Tsukasa, killing him instantly.
Young Tsukasa, still unaware of the concept of ethical dilemmas but now knowing what he was capable of, poked Aloysius' cheek with a finger. Aloysius awoke, unaware of the fact that he just died, gave young Tsukasa a sweeping look and satisfied that he was now suitably clean enough, patted young Tsukasa's head with a mittened hand and headed back to the oven to retrieve the cherry pie he was baking.
Young Tsukasa's gift came with a caveat or two, which he was tragically about to find out only now. It was a gift that not only gave, but took.
As Ryouta's grandfather dropped dead across the street while fondly patting Ryouta's head in front of both boys' horrified eyes, young Tsukasa discovered he could only bring the dead back to life for exactly one minute with no consequences. Any longer than that, and someone else had to die.
Young Tsukasa had just traded their butler's life for Ryouta's grandfather's.
The oven timer dinged.
That night, as the faithful butler brushed a strand of hair away from young Tsukasa's face after tucking him into bed, Aloysius Pennyworth dropped dead on the floor for the second and last time that day. No amount of poking from young Tsukasa woke him up again.
This was the second caveat to touching dead things that young Tsukasa learned in the worst way possible. First touch: life. Second touch: dead. Again. Forever.
A week later, young Tsukasa would be shipped off by his absent father to boarding school where the rest of his siblings were. Ryouta would be taken away from Nozogahara as well by his father after a particularly nasty divorce.
The day they were both about to leave, just as the sun was about to set, dizzy with the late afternoon heat, curiosity, and hormones, young Tsukasa and the boy called Ryouta had their first—and only—kiss.
The facts were these: it's been nine years, forty–four weeks, twenty days, and sixteen hours later, heretofore known as now. The Monokuma Café has been in business for eleven weeks, eleven days, and eleven hours. Young Tsukasa, now known as the Pie Maker, was in the middle of preparing the filling for a new batch of peach pies when the bell on the front door rang.
The Monokuma Café was not known for having many early morning customers. Young Tsukasa sighed and looked up from across the counter. Kizakura Kouichi was at the doorway, grinning like a child who just found a gift in his Christmas stocking as he tipped the brim of his hat off to young Tsukasa.
Kizakura Kouichi was the sole keeper of the Pie Maker's secret. And this is how he came to be the sole keeper of the Pie Maker's secret.
Kizakura Kouichi was a private investigator (despite the well–known fact that his on–again–off–again partner loathed detectives and private investigators) who met the Pie Maker one fine June morning as they were both taking out the trash, metaphorically for Kizakura, literally for young Tsukasa. The hooligan Kizakura was pursuing on the rooftops (despite what popular fiction would tell you, this activity was neither fun nor exciting) fell off and broke his neck as he jumped rather unsuccessfully onto the next roof. As the dead man fell, his hand came into contact with young Tsukasa's unassuming forehead below, and he landed on the ground alive. Young Tsukasa, realizing what just happened, chased after the man and immediately poked at the back of his neck, prompting him to drop dead once more.
Kizakura proposed a partnership. It was a rather simple and straightforward business arrangement, really. Murders were much easier to solve if you could simply ask the victim who did it. And grieving families were willing to pay tons of money to find out the truth. Young Tsukasa, needing a little money on the side after his father cut him off, reluctantly agreed.
At this very moment, Kizakura Kouichi sauntered off to the bar in front of the counter, slamming down a brown envelope on the table as young Tsukasa took off his apron and motioned for Mioda to take over the kitchen work for him.
"Who got mauled by their secretary's dog this time?" young Tsukasa asked as he sat down across from Kizakura and started prying off the seal from the envelope.
"Nothing as gruesome as that now, thank fuck," Kizakura yawned, taking off his hat and placing it down on the table in front of him. "Some kid died in his sleep of a heart attack, mom thinks something else is going on, so she calls us."
Young Tsukasa hummed, still picking away at the seal. "So where's this kid?"
"Nozogahara," Kizakura replied, stretching out his arms. "Ever been there?"
Young Tsukasa, who had by now successfully ripped away the envelope seal and had started reading the case file, suddenly turned as white as the paper clutched in his hand.
Mitarai Ryouta, the case file read, and suddenly all the memories came rushing back to young Tsukasa. Playing in the backyard, inadvertently killing Ryouta's grandfather, their first kiss.
"Shit."