She had been born to darkness.

There was nothing quite like it; coming to an awareness of oneself in the midst of an endless black void. What had she been before? Human? Demon? It hardly mattered, she supposed, as now she was neither.

She intuitively knew that she was a creature of spirit, and yet, she breathed. She could feel the blood race though her veins with each pound of her heart. Her eyes blinked, though she saw nothing in this strange place of limbo, this Otherworldly existence. But she knew she lived. How?

It simply was.

She was dead, but alive. The word came to her then: undead. She supposed it was better to be mostly-alive than only mostly-dead.

And then she was pulled from the Other into a world of brilliant light. She had been blinded, eyes stinging, liquid dripping down from them. And then she Saw. She had hands, feet; a body. Her hair had brushed against her face and she had marveled, unable to name its color. She stared at the pale orb in the sky, awed at how it lit the white flowers painting the clearing she stood in, illuminating her form just as brightly.

There was a Pull then, tugging at her soul. She turned towards it curiously, stepping forward and suddenly she was not where she had been. She was in a house, a cottage really, quaint and homey. There had been love there; love and care and the beauty of small things.

And there had been a man. He had been old. Wrinkled face fixed in a still kind of serenity, eyelids closed. He lay atop a soft bed, worn quilts surrounding his frail body in a warm embrace. And there had been people there; an old woman weeping, a man holding her, and others, looking on with clouded eyes.

The realization dawned softly; this was his family. And he was dead.

Confusion colored her world for a moment and she tried not to look at the people around her. Somehow she knew that they could not see her, but she felt uneasy, an intruder in their sorrow. But her gaze was Pulled to the opposite wall, to the comfortable chair in the far corner. A young man sat there, more boy than man, watching the proceedings carefully. His eyes were fixed on the weeping woman and it seemed that a strange pain crossed his face, lingering in his pale eyes. She stepped forward and when she moved, he looked at her. And it startled her, because clearly, he could see her. Then he smiled a sad, small smile and stood.

"I knew you would come."

She did not understand until she looked to the bed and saw the self same image as the one before her; only old and wise. The old man's young spirit still smiled when she returned her gaze and she nodded, lifting her hand towards him as she felt another Pull.

He came willingly, lingering near the old woman a moment before closing his eyes and grasping her hand. Light surrounded them and somehow she knew what to do. She Guided him to his rest, helping him let go of this Life so he could move on to another.

Then the light was gone and she found herself in that bright meadow again, surrounded by moon flowers. And when she felt the Pull once more, she did not hesitate. Botan let it take her to where she was needed.

She opened her eyes at the remembrance, sighing softly. Her first Reaping had been a gentle thing. Her second had not.

The air had been saturated with bloodlust, much like the stadium she viewed now. But it had been different then; more honest. Then, she had been new to the world and its darkness. Now, she knew this farce for what it was: an excuse to cause wanton chaos.

Her veiled eyes swept across the place the Dark Tournament would be held, weighing its strengths and weaknesses, judging the crowd. She was early yet; Team Urameshi had yet to arrive and soon she would be required to fetch the girls.

Botan fingered the pocket of her pants uneasily, tracing over the small bulge of tickets Lord Koenma had given her. She understood that their presence was necessary; having them close would bolster their fighters. But something within her twisted at the thought, roiling uncomfortably.

The human's presences here made her…worried.

And so she ran her gaze over the area again, strangely determined for their safety.

Her oar thrummed warmly in her palm as she drifted lazily over head, the ancient wood attuned to her sense of balance like nothing else could be. She had discarded her mortal form for the occasion, invisible to all. Later, when the others arrived, she would allow herself to be seen.

But for now, Botan would watch. And she would wait for that familiar Pull.

AN: Yeah! The Dark Tournament is almost here!

Review Please!

~Delgodess