Ok, guys. This is a really, really random, weird fic about what happens to Muramasa after he dies. Eh… I kind of wrote all this in one sitting, so everything's just weird and… random. Anyway, I want to thank Hyper Kid for asking me to write a fic. I thought that was very flattering! So, this goes out to you!

By the way, there's a guest appearance by Okita (a character from Rurouni Kenshin). More about him at the bottom of the story. If you guys haven't figured out yet, this whole story is inspired by my own fic, The Happily Dead, where Okita plays the main dead guy.

SDK and RK do not belong to me!

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The Dead don't Rest

Muramasa blinked. Then he blinked again. He had to admit that he was confused, and that was a first, because having lived for a few thousand years generally eliminates confusion over anything. However, he felt justified this time because throughout his entire life time, he had never experienced anything like this before. Death, after all, only occurs once and then it tends to last forever.

He knew he was dying; had known for over thirty years. That was plenty of time to envision how death was like, what one saw after one finally crossed the threshold. He had thought of everything from a long tunnel leading to a bright white light to burning flames of black and red. He had thought of growing wings and flying into the clear blue sky, or growing fins and swimming into the clear blue sea. (When he wasn't in a good mood, the skies and sea however, tended to be rather dark and murky.)

What he had never thought of, however, was being still there.

Yes, being still there.

As in, being stuck on mortal earth.

That sucked – totally.

Normally, he would never use such language, but he felt justified again. Not only was he still hovering around on Mother Earth, he had been denied the chance of meeting his dearly departed Mayumi again.

He had been looking forward to it! Looking forward to seeing her twinkling, wet eyes, looking forward to feeling her soft glossy hair, looking forward to smelling her sweet fragrance. And her voice! That was one thing of hers he would never forget. When she sang, the world seemed to develop a misty effect, and the skies obtained a silvery hue. When she sang, rainbows filled his sky and the birds dulled away to a choir that enhanced her singing.

God, what a diehard romantic he was.

And there was his sister, of course. He thought he would meet her again, get to tell her how sorry he was that he could not save her, could not save Fubuki. Then they would run around in a beautiful eternal garden like they used to do as children, playing their favourite games (like Hide and Fall Out of the Tree Branches) amongst the red roses and purple lavender.

Nah… they would look ridiculous doing that as adults.

But they could have sat together in that beautiful eternal garden, reading haiku or just listening to music… drinking hot tea and eating sweet cakes. They could of course talk and smile, just like they used to before she died.

Where was all the eternal happiness and bliss with his long departed loved ones he had much longed for?

"Why am I still here?" he demanded as politely as possible (you never know who's listening). "If anyone can hear me, someone's… made a mistake! I'm dead! I'm supposed to go to… heaven or hell or… somewhere. Not stay here!"

There was no answer. Not that he expected any. After all, gods only seemed to speak to people who have died several thousand years ago. He didn't qualify, having just died about two minutes ago. But… like he said, one could always hope.

He cleared his throat loudly, just in case someone was there, but just… overlooking him.

After all, god knew how many people died the same time he did. It made sense that someone would miss him out, of course.

Right?

Groaning miserably, Muramasa threw out his arms in despair and returned to staring moodily at the ground.

It was then he noticed that he was hovering somewhere to the right of Kyo's shoulder. Moving his arms awkwardly led to a somewhat jagged beeline towards said appendage.

"Oops… didn't mean to go through you… ah… wait… I think I've got the hang of this… there!" Clearing his throat, he straightened out his clothes purely out of habit. "Kyo!" he called. "Eh… don't be too startled but this is Muramasa speaking!"

There was no reply. Kyo remained with his head hanging slightly, staring into where Muramasa's physical body previously was.

"Kyo?" Muramasa questioned tentatively. The boy could be quite unstable sometimes, especially when his emotions go wild. "Eh… Kyo?"

"He's dead," Kyo mumbled, his voice so soft Muramasa almost couldn't hear him.

"Yes, I know," Muramasa replied sympathetically, easily slipping back into a role he hadn't played in many years – the father role (the last time he played that role was when Kyo had a nightmare about pink bunnies and purple lizards). "That happens, my boy. Everything that lives, dies, and there is nothing you can do to stop it."

"And he threw all this freaking… dreams to me," Kyo went on.

"Yes, of course, of course… wh…" Muramasa drew himself up, "Don't use that word, Kyo! It is rude."

"You died on me…" Kyo went on, his voice sounding uncertain.

"Yes, I did," Muramasa conceded, "I'm sorry to abandon you and all, but…"

"You died on me!" Kyo erupted suddenly, drawing his sword out purely by instinct. "I can't believe you died on me!"

"Hey!" Muramasa jerked unconsciously as the sword passed through him. "That wasn't very nice, Kyo. It is not like I intended to die, you know?"

"How dare you?" Kyo roared, swinging his sword again. "I order you back! I order you!"

"Eh… Kyo…" Muramasa took three rather awkward steps back, "Kyo? Um… yes sir! I'm back! So… stop throwing a tantrum."

"Muramasa!" Kyo roared, felling several trees and other vegetation. "Muramasa!"

"Present!" Muramasa tried. It was useless of course. He was by no means a stupid man, and he had long reached the conclusion that his presence could not be registered by the living.

Yeah, that sucked too.

"You…!" Kyo's wrath seemed to grow to speechlessness. His voice died off, but his sword continued to hack randomly into the ground.

"Oh… my favourite bonsai plant," Muramasa moaned. "I spent years making it look like that, Kyo…" He dodged instinctively as several unripe carrots and tapioca started to fly around, courtesy of one Demon Eye Kyo. "Temper, Kyo, temper!" he chided gently. "The plants are not very happy with what you've done to them, you know? I must say, you haven't really improved the landscape in the slightest."

"You…" Kyo finally stopped cutting up and unearthing the vegetation, opting instead to sit down with his head on his knees. Muramasa twitched nervously; he had never really seen Kyo react like this before. Even the pink bunnies only made him twitch convulsively.

"All this time…" Kyo panted, his fingers clawing at the earth, "All this time… I always dared to be wild… to go against anyone, anywhere... Tokugawa, Sanada… anyone, because… because I was always aware, always aware that no matter how bad things got… no matter what happened… I could always come back here, always! You would be there… and you would be downright irritating, looking into my heart… but you would always… always just let me into the room… the room that is always kept ready… for when I visit… because you…" Roaring angrily, he leapt to his feet and continued to attack the vegetation. "And now, you push all your stupid dreams and ambitions on me then die on me! How dare you?"

Muramasa hovered quietly behind Kyo. "I'm sorry," he said finally, "I really am. You are too kind to be caught up in all this. I made you the evil wraith people nowadays see. Before that… always, you were always too kind." He lowered his head.

"And you had to call me here to watch you die," Kyo went on bitterly, "I bet you're laughing at me right now, laughing because you finally got a rise out of me. All this years of trying to get me to… show my emotions as you put it… to… cry out loud, or laugh out loud… well you've got what you wanted, you freaking old man!"

Muramasa shrugged, sitting down to watch his disciple rage. "I thought it would have been good for you," he said, "You were too… quiet, like the Aka Ou No. I wanted to make sure you weren't as cold-blooded as he was."

Kyo sat down again, right next to Muramasa, almost like he had sensed his mentor there. "God, there had better be no one watching me right now," he muttered, laying his sword down by his side wearily and running a hand through his mess of hair.

"Too late, my dear boy," Muramasa chirped cheerfully, "I saw everything." He smiled fondly.

"Freaking Muramasa," Kyo muttered, almost like he had heard his mentor. Even through all the wild, uncharacteristic ranting, his eyes had remained dry.

"Get a move on, boy," Muramasa said softly, "Forget my death; it does not matter anymore."

With a sigh, Kyo looked up, his face composed into the cold, emotionless mask he usually wore. "Better get going," he muttered, "or Bon wouldn't be able to keep that stupid woman from running back to see why I'm taking such a long time."

Within seconds, Muramasa found himself alone again, sitting two inches above the grass and staring into the night sky.

"Well," he began, "in case anyone's wondering about a missing soul, it's down here!" There was no answer. Shrugging, he climbed slowly back onto his feet, not that it made any difference; he was still hovering two inches above the grass.

Whatever the case was, it seemed that he was stuck on earth (god bless the fumbling morons above who have just screwed up majestically). He shook his head to dislodge all the numerous inappropriate words he had learned from his wayward disciple. Well, since he was on earth, and basically invisible to almost everyone, there was one other place he could go to wither away the rest of eternity.

After all, he had missed the Mibu land quite badly…

And he owned a certain pair some serious haunting.

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At Fubuki's feet lay a cat. It was a black cat, which is said to bring bad luck. (And thus, eventually it will be thrown off a cliff and killed… and then revived by Fubuki again, who had gone out looking for it. It was only by sheer coincidence that Kyo happened to be fighting Chinmei at that time). Whatever the biasness against its fur colour was, this cat was still a cat, and thus had the ability to see the dead.

Not that he saw many of them, given that they always made their way up to heaven or down to hell… and certainly, not many of them ventured into the room of Fubuki, leader of the Taishirou. There was something about white, bushy hair passing through your metaphysical self every five seconds (no matter where one stood) that put off most ghosts.

Thus, the cat was a little surprised to see one of them appear beside the window.

"Erk…" it commented upon walking (floating or swimming appear to be more accurate verbs) straight into white, spiky hair, "God, someone give this man a haircut!"

The cat stood up and meowed tentatively. His master was busy conversing with his colleague, and thus was no good for a scratch. This dead one might be rather obliging…

"Oh, what a cute little kitten. Hi there! Oh, you want a scratch? Well, here goes…"

Oh yes, definitely good for a scratch.

The cat leaned against the metaphysical palm and purred contentedly. The ghost laughed.

"What's your name?" he asked. "I see on your belly someone has written 'teacher's pet', oh yes… Tokito's handwriting, it seems… but I assume that's not your name. Mmm… this collar says… Cutesypie? My, my… I never thought Fubuki had it in him…"

Cutesypie purred. It wasn't too disturbed with its name; was happy even, that someone was willing to take it in and name it despite its fur colour. All that mattered now was that someone was giving its white coloured ear a very, very satisfying scratch. It meowed loudly and nibbled the metaphysical hand affectionately.

"Oh, you like me, don't you?" the ghost said amusedly. "Well, I like you too. Do you think we could be good friends?"

The cat meowed a positive response.

Then coughed and spat out a hairball.

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"So, Kyo is coming," Hishigi commented, leaning against the wall, "Just like we thought he would."

"We knew all along that he would come," Fubuki said, "and it was very certain, after Shinrei put his water dragon in that girl's body."

"Mmm…" Hishigi murmured absent-mindedly. His eye was fixed on the cat confusedly; it looked like it was sucking up to someone… who wasn't there. He winced when the cat spat out a hairball.

"The Goyousei will get him," Fubuki went on, oblivious to the dimming concentration of his partner, "He may have trained under Muramasa for some time, but it would not have been sufficient, not without his own real body, and Muramasa being in such poor health…"

"Oh, you knew that and you never came and visit…"

Hishigi's eyebrow rose elegantly. Did he just hear that? "Fubuki…"

"Hmm?"

"Did you just… say something?"

Fubuki's eyebrow rose to match Hishigi's. "Yes, I did. I said that the Goyousei will get him, him being Kyo, and that…"

"No, no," Hishigi said, "I meant, did you say… something else after that part about Muramasa being in such poor health?"

"Well… no? Why?"

Hishigi shook his head. "Must be my imagination…"

"You can hear me? Hey, Hish…"

Startled, Hishigi jerked back, his one eye scanning the room rapidly. There was no one else in it, other than Fubuki, the cat, and himself. Then where was the…"

"Hishigi?" Fubuki questioned. "Are you alright? You look a little…"

"Are these evil eyes? Hishigi! You installed evil eyes in your…"

Hishigi jerked back, his back pressed firmly against the wall now. That voice had been just in front of him.

"Hishigi?" Fubuki rose to his feet and padded towards his friend. "Are you alright? You look a little put out. Is it the disease? Is it acting up a…"

"You too? Hey, that means you'll be joining me soon!"

"Did you hear that?" Hishigi gasped, feeling his usual calmness slip away. "Did you just hear that?"

Fubuki's other eyebrow joined its brother. "Hear what?"

"I swear… I swear I just heard… someone… like… like… Muramasa say something…"

Fubuki shook his head and sighed. "Don't let the guilt get to you, Hishigi. Remember, we both promised to fight this battle using over own methods… to the very end."

"It isn't guilt! I swear I…" Hishigi trailed off.

"Aww… Hishigi, you felt guilty? I'm so touched…"

"Don't touch me!" Hishigi shrieked, dodging as something that felt like cold squid touched his shoulder.

Fubuki, who had been reaching out towards his friend jerked back, a brief expression of hurt flashing over his face. "We chose our own paths," he said bitterly, "Muramasa and I both swore to carry on down our own paths. Why are you backing out now?"

"Don't touch me!" Hishigi repeated, starting a strange thrashing dance as he tried to avoid the cold, clammy hand that appeared to be trying to catch hold of him. "Don't! Fubuki, do something!"

By then, Fubuki's eyebrows had vanished into his hair. "Do what?" he asked rather irritably. "What on earth are you doing, Hishigi? Here I was giving such a great, emotional speech filled with determination and strength, and you start running around the room like Tokito after too much candy? Shame on you!"

Most days, such a comment from Fubuki would have Hishigi cringing inside with guilt; today, it merely made him lose his temper. "For the love of god, Fubuki!" he shrieked. "There's a strange apparition in here trying to… harm me, and all you do is sit there and make snide comments! Shame on you, Fubuki… arg! Get it off me!" Screaming, he fled the room, arms flailing around his head, like a man trying to escape a swarm of bees.

His eyebrows coming down in a deep frown, Fubuki sat down again, faking nonchalance as he returned to his paperwork. "Stupid, stupid mad genius scientists," he muttered, "always lose their minds in the end, I say."

And it was thus, that Fubuki failed to see his pet twining itself around the legs of someone, who was not there.

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Muramasa folded his arms and frowned (quite gently, this being Saint Muramasa) in the direction of his vanishing friend. This was not quite how he expected Hishigi to react. Of course, he hadn't expected any of them to react to his presence, given that he wasn't aware any of them could sense his presence, but that was totally beside the point.

Here he was, trying to save his friend from the 'strange apparition' he kept yelling about, and what does the man do? He runs out of the room.

"You should have said thank you, you know?" he called. "After all, that is only courtesy." Regaining his good humour, he returned his attention to the other occupant of the room.

Tilting his head, he peered curiously at Fubuki. What was the man reading? Manipulating his arms awkwardly, he slowly frog-paddled over to where Fubuki was, and looked over his shoulder.

"Hey, that's a plan to overthrow the Tokugawa empire!" he exclaimed. "And Plan A includes making more Battle Dolls? How could you, Fubuki? Have you forgotten what a torture it is to be a Battle Doll?" He jerked as the white bushy hair passed through his face.

"Is there someone there?" Fubuki questioned tentatively. "Hishigi? This isn't some silly prank, is it? Or is it… Yuan? Tokito?"

"No, it's me," Muramasa sighed. "Surprise! Your ex best friend is back! Boo!" Much to his surprise, the last word resulted in a cold breeze that blew the pieces of paper out of Fubuki's hand.

"Wh…?" Puzzled, Fubuki reached out to pick up the pieces of paper – only to have them blown out of reach again.

Muramasa chuckled to himself as his ex-friend heaved himself onto his feet and started to go after the paper.

"Boo!" Muramasa whispered, and the papers scattered around the room.

"What the…" Fubuki stood in the middle of the room and glared at the disobedient pieces of paper angrily. "I need new shutters on the window," he decided with a sigh.

"Boo!" Muramasa called again.

"Oh no!" Breaking into a full out run, Fubuki leapt towards the pieces of paper flying out of the window. "I took ten years to complete all those plans…"

"Boo! Boo! Boo! Boo! Boo!"

"Damn!" Fubuki cursed as the paper floated off into the distance. "That just set our plans back another ten years!" Growling angrily, he kicked out at the table, smashing it in.

Grinning contentedly, Muramasa leaned back on his heels and watched Fubuki glare angrily at his favourite table (which was presently in about a million pieces). "And," Muramasa commented, feeling that some sort of Kyo-oriented remark was in place, "you can kiss my metaphysical rear, you… horrible person." He smiled, feeling quite liberated.

"Muramasa must be laughing at me in his grave now."

"Almost there, my friend. I'm laughing, just… not quite in my grave."

"I bet he's making bets with the Gatekeeper over who's going to win."

"I don't gamble! Fubuki, I thought you knew me better!"

"I bet he's betting Kyo would win!"

"Oh, I'm hoping Kyo would win, not betting. Do stop tarnishing my reputation, Fubuki, my old friend."

"And all the…"

Before Fubuki could finish his sentence however, Tokito burst into the room in a flurry of cards and swear words.

"Tokito!" Muramasa cried. "My dear, dear niece!"

"Fubuki-san," Tokito cried, "my freaking father is dead! I witnessed his candle go out. Sorry to report so late, but I was too busy celebrating!"

"Oh, I'm aware of that," Fubuki muttered, still mourning the loss of his table.

"Wait a minute," Muramasa muttered, "Tokito's father is dead?" He risked a peep at Fubuki. "Nope! He's not. What's going… oh no… Fubuki, you didn't…"

"Muramasa is dead!" Tokito crowed. "Let's break out the sake, Fubuki-san!"

"Fine by me," Fubuki sighed.

"My most hated traitor father is dead!"

"Fubuki!" Muramasa groaned. "You didn't! You didn't tell Tokito I was her father… and now she hates me! She used to adore me so! How could you?"

"Let's celebrate, come on! Let's celebrate!" Tokito cheered, dancing haphazardly around the room.

"Oh my aching ears," Muramasa sighed, "she sure developed a rather… piercing voice. Somehow, I'm certain she got that from her father, not her mother. And that move, I am certain, she learned from her father." He frowned miserably as Tokito performed a perfect mid-air split.

Slowly, with no intent to continue watching Tokito embarrass herself totally, Muramasa slowly swam towards the window, his head hanging down dejectedly. "That's ok," he mumbled, "we did decide to do things our own way now, didn't we?" Outside the window, he stopped, staring at the ground (a good hundred feet below him). "Why?" he demanded. "Why must all my best friends turn against me?"

"Because it is fate."

And Muramasa spun around to find himself face to skull with a hooded figure carrying a scythe.

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There was a moment of tensed silence – then the hooded figure flashed a rather… toothy smile. "Hi!" it chirped cheerily. "How are you doing?"

"Eh… hi?" Muramasa flashed his best saintly smile back.

"My apologies," the hooded figure said, "I am aware I should have been here two… three hours ago, but I was busy taking lessons from Death on how to be Death."

Muramasa blinked confusedly. "Eh… that's… alright?" he tried.

"Why thank you," the figure replied, beaming happily. "Say, you are Muramasa, right?"

"Eh… yes?"

"Just checking, because the last time I was sent to pick up a Mekira soul, I ended up picking up some guy called Bikara, who wouldn't stop telling me what a cute butt I have. I wouldn't have minded it so much, if he had just stuck to telling me. So… eh, I ended up using my scythe on him, and Death let me off only because she felt that it was in self-defense." The figure smiled bashfully. "Oh, by the way, I'm Death's new apprentice… eh… only apprentice, actually. My name's Okita, but Death insists that I call myself Death, the Second." Lightning flashed and thunder roared. "Or, just Two-Death. You know? Like a pun? To Death and Two-Death?" He gave Muramasa a hopeful look.

"Eh… ha ha, that's so funny?" Muramasa tried.

"Great!" Two-Death beamed. "I predict that we'll get along pretty well."

"Eh… ok?"

Muramasa smiled in a rather puzzled manner as he followed after the Grim Reaper's apprentice.

"So…" he began. "Where do we go from here? Heaven? Hell?"

"Hmm? Oh… the waiting room, actually," Two-Death replied, waving his scythe experimentally. "Just hold on a minute. I'm going to try to twist time and dimension now… only, I've never actually got it right before. So… just bear with me, okay?"

"Eh… ok?" Muramasa said obligingly.

"Cool." Two-Death raised his scythe and held out his left hand. Rapidly, he turned up his left sleeve, which had tiny illegible words scribbled on it. Squinting at it, he started to recite the words. Then he clenched his left hand into a fist. Immediately, the world seemed to bend and jump, distorting itself like ripples on the surface of water. The air seemed to fill with static, and Muramasa touched the back of his neck as the metaphysical hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

Fluidly, the neat, artificially beautiful landscape of the Mibu lands rolled away to reveal a barren waste land.

"Alright!" Two-Death cried. "I did it! This, my dear Muramasa, is the waiting room where you can think without any pleasant things to distract you, or just draw in the sand!" He broke into an odd dance, the bones in his… structure… clanking nosily.

Muramasa held himself still to avoid making any sudden movements that could lead to his demise by scythe.

"Oh…" Two-Death stopped suddenly, smiling bashfully. "Oops! Lost my cool. Sorry! I was supposed to be all mystical, calm and stuff, but… ah well, not in my nature." He flashed another smile, and Muramasa had a sudden insight which told him that this Two-Death, in life, was probably the kind of person who could get away with anything just by smiling (and who was probably also the kind of person who dimpled adorably when he smiled, pouted when annoyed and who played with little children and animals).

"Eh… so, I think now?" Muramasa asked.

"Or just draw in the sand," Two-Death urged, "that's way more interesting, if you ask me. Anyway, just wait here for a while, ok? I'll be back… eh… soon." He smiled again before vanishing in a flurry of black cloth.

As the remainder of the cloth disappeared, Muramasa could have sworn he heard a distant voice saying something along the lines of "ah damn… wrong dimension again…"

Shrugging, Muramasa surveyed the landscape critically. There was nothing but sand and grey skies that seemed to stretch to eternity. Indeed, it was the perfect setting for a person to think, for there was nothing to distract the person. Deciding to take his guide's advice, Muramasa squatted down and started to scribble in the sand.

First he drew a flower.

Then he drew a person.

Then he drew a huge dinosaur, which ate the person, sniffed the flower, got hay fever and died.

"Oh, cool artwork."

Muramasa froze, his finger stuck in the sand, before slowly turning his head to find Two-Death peering over his shoulder interestedly.

"I like your concept," Two-Death went on, oblivious to Muramasa's shock, "You should have seen one soul I got from some distant country on the other side of the world… some… Da Vin something guy. He drew some weird pictures that were like… why's the person facing to his side and the front at the same time? He tried to explain it to be, but I didn't really understand…"

Muramasa smiled weakly. "Why, thank you. So… what happens now?"

Two-Death shifted uncomfortably. "Well, you see? We've got a new policy implemented right about… when I died, I think. It says that if Death, you know… in general, isn't there exactly when you die, you've got a chance to… not be judged."

"Eh… ok?"

"Yeah… as in, you can… not go to Heaven or Hell, if you want to, but be employed by Death. Eh… only, we're a little over-employed now, because I keep… missing all my death-times. But, it's your choice, you know?" Two-Death smiled charmingly (or as charmingly as a skeleton could smile).

Slowly, Muramasa glanced around the landscape. "Is that what you chose, Two-Death? I mean… to be employed by Death?"

"Oh, I wasn't so much as given a choice, but kind of… forced to take my choice. But, with this new ideology called eh… demo… demo… democra… something, we've kind of decided to let the souls choose themselves."

"Oh…" Muramasa looked around again. "Do you know where a woman called Mayumi is? Is she in Heaven or Hell?"

"Eh… Mayumi? Long black hair? Killed by some weird psycho who wears sunglasses?"

"Yes."

"Sure, I do. I picked her up myself."

"Ah. So, she works for Death now?"

"How did you know?"

"Lucky guess. So, where is she now?"

"She works at the cafeteria."

"… Cafeteria?"

"Yeah. I never exactly figured out why we, the non-mortals need a cafeteria, but we do have one, and she works there."

Muramasa blinked slowly then he smiled. "I would like to work at the cafeteria then, if I may?"

Two-Death smiled back. "Sure, Muramasa. Anything you say."

As time and space started to fold in on him again, Muramasa smiled. Sure, the people down in the living world were messing up terribly, but it was no longer his problem. Now, all he had to do was to be with Mayumi again.

And work in a cafeteria that is unnecessary.

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A/N: Ha ha. Weird? Unfunny? Total flop? Let me know! Read and Review ok?

Anyway, here's a little on Okita Souji for those who haven't read Rurouni Kenshin or just can't be bothered to read The Happily Dead.

Okita Souji is supposed to be the First Captain of the Shinsengumi, a fearsome group that fought against the Royalists. Eventually, the Royalists won and set up the Meiji era. Okita was supposed to be a very strong fighter, who succumbed to tuberculosis when he was about twenty-five.

In RK, Okita is just this polite, smiling, a little feminine guy, who appears in a couple of scenes. In the Happily Dead, I did the same thing as in this fic, and had Death be late for Okita's death, and thus resulting in Okita being employed by Death as her apprentice.

So, yup! Hope you guys still enjoyed the fic, even if you don't know who Okita is!