Disclaimer: Yu Yu Hakusho and all its characters belong to Yoshihiro Togashi.

There were moments when she forgot.

When the sounds of her friends voices drowned out the constant call of her blood, when their smiles were all that she could see and she breathed in the Life surrounding her.

And then she would remember.

Her eyes would glaze and become far away; her body would still and the Energy laying latent within her old form would sing.

Because she was old.

And age was a relative thing to one such as herself.

She had seen so much; done so much. She had floated above war ravaged landscapes, the shrieking wind sending strands of moon light hair fluttering about her face, laying the smell of fear and despair heavily in her nostrils. She had watched as demon and human alike fell, the roiling crescendo of carnage beating out its macabre rhythm.

Her kimono had been black then, black as night and her hair had been pulled up into a high tail that made her soft features sharp and unforgiving. This is what greeted her charges when they woke in the Other and she dragged them begging and screaming down to the Pits of Hell.

There had been others like her, older and wiser, far more powerful then herself. Ancient beings that had roamed the wastelands long before King Enma had ascended the throne. But that was a forgotten age, and they had purpose now.

The call came: They would put an end to this, before the World destroyed Itself.

One by one they fell from the sky, appearing from the Nothing and swooping down like vengeful angles, their black garments floating about them. They struck like grim ghosts, prematurely tearing their victim's souls from their bodies' and striking true terror into the fleeing masses.

Beings that could not be killed: for how can you kill something that is already dead?

Her eyes bled red as she too, descended into the chaos below. She remembered how her staff had slicked with blood, how the small crescent blade at its end had shone a bight scarlet and how the spirits she left in her wake cried out in wailing agony.

When all was said and done, the air grew still, and the Dead were made to promise to never take the life of a Living; only to Guide it on its way.

They were to change themselves; or risk reaping the consequences of their actions. Many resisted, too set in their ways, but she was one of the few who had been willing. She remembers standing in front of a mirror, her body bare of clothing and trying to smile. What she produced was much too artificial, but with time, it would come to look natural on her face.

It had been countless years since then. She had exchanged her rags of black for the colors of Life and let her hair fall to frame her lightened eyes and innocent features. She hid in plain sight; living a Half-Life, a life of service for her sins, and forgot the past.

But when she did happen to remember, she could feel her Spiritual Energy coiling within her, her rosette eyes darkening to their true color and she would let her seemingly fragile hands trace her oar, feeling the transformed weapon just beneath its wooden surface.

Flailing hands before her eyes would bring her back, the sound of laughter and questioning faces quickly reminding her where she was and who she was with.

Shaking her head, she would smile giddily, bring up a hand to cover her sheepish face and revel in the secret thought that few knew what she really, truly, was.

Her eyes would catch Shuichi's, his green depths flickering yellow and for the next little while the fox inside him would watch her closely, his slim body as tense as a bow string.

Because it was old enough to remember too. And it had never forgotten.

Her friends thought her clumsy, short sighted and annoyingly optimistic. This was good, for it was exactly the type of person she was striving so hard to be. And though long years of practice had truly changed her, there was always a small part of Botan that remembered her true nature. It whispered to her, reminding her of her sleeping Power and she couldn't help but preen with satisfaction at the hidden knowledge.

Because she was a Ferry Girl. And she was Death.

AN: I like the idea of Botan being more than what she seems. So, here is something that tickled my muse. If you catch any spelling/grammar mistakes, please tell me!

Review Please!

~Delgodess