Disclaimer: I do not own YYH.

Summary: There was always something different about her. KxB

She always managed to catch his eye.

Whether intentionally or not, she succeeded in becoming the object of his attention on more times than he wished. His interest grew the first time he met her because he could tell she was different. Unlike most women who were vain, self-absorbed and hopeless romantics, she was completely modest, selfless to a point someone could take advantage of her, and didn't seem to mind the lack of romance in her life, satistifed with just being a spectacle to the growing, budding love between their friends.

As she was a ferry girl, a guide to dead souls, he knew for certain those bright, cheery amethyst pools had seen worse things than anyone had ever had. Humans were horrible creatures at times; ignorant, lustful, pretentious, back stabbing and selfishness were among the few characteristics that described the human race. And he'd wondered sometimes of what she had been forced to bore witness to. The cruelty and destruction of it all could taint even the purest soul pitch black, and yet, she remained innocent. Pure as white, nothing damaged, nothing harmed, nothing sinned. She wasn't perfect, but she had the most beautiful soul he'd ever seen. Unlike him, who had done so many horrible and unspeakable things in his past life. Although, he had not repeated the wrongdoings from long time ago, the memories still plagued him to this day.

Over time, he'd begun to develop feelings for her. Feelings he didn't think was possible. Feelings he tried to push away, and buried into the deepest part of his mind. It was dangerous to grow too close to someone, for that someone could become his weakness, his downfall. And yet, with each eye contact they made, she managed to ignite them within him again and again. No matter how hard he tried to distance himself from her, he would always find himself seeking for her comfort, her touch, which he had once scorned before.

In the past, he would've pushed her away. Used her to derive all the pleasure her body could offer. Hurt her, if that meant he would be rid of her. But now, he found himself constantly clinging to her like dear life itself whenever the dreams became too much, leaving him in nothing but a disarray of shivering mess. Yet, she held him patiently, stroked his hair, and whispered soothing words into his ear. Everytime he messed up, she offered him a chance, even when he was not worthy of that chance.

She gave him something no one else ever could. A sense of overwhelming serenity, followed by peaceful nights where he could finally be freed of the nightmares that tormented his soul. For she was the only light in the darkness that threatened to pull him in, consume him, and swallow him down whole. And he would forever be thankful to her, because she was different.

She was her.

She was Botan.

His Deity of Death.