A creation of boredom and a lack of inspiration in my other fics. Inspired by Kat Morning's Death and Other Unexpected Things. This is mainly a fic about stuff Okita Souji encounters after a very untimely death.

Rurouni Kenshin does not belong to me.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

The Happily Dead

Okita Souji knew he was dead. He remembered it all so well – the hospital, the people in white, and coughing out his lungs. What was slightly puzzling then was that he was now watching them cover his pale, dead body and carrying it off to some sort of morgue. Things only became slightly less puzzling when he realized that he was floating up in a corner of the ceiling of the room.

"Ah…" he commented, and was surprised when the words didn't sound so much like words… but more like actions.

Now, Okita wasn't an expert on death. Sure, he knew a lot about dying, given that it was the only thing he had been doing for the past couple of months, but death – now that was a twister. What he had thought was that he wouldn't still be around in the mortal world when he finally kicked the bucket and stopped breathing. Of course that was a relief – the stopping of breathing at least.

Well then, what was he supposed to do now? He didn't want to float around like this. At least, he felt he deserved to be put in some new realm with new things to discover and old friends to visit.

Miserably, he trailed out, following his physical body doggedly. "Hey," he commented to one of the men carrying his body, "So… what's up?" He wasn't surprised when the man ignored him, but he did feel a strange, uncontrollable itch to grab a katana and drive it through the man's head. "Hey… whoa!" He yelped as the man suddenly dropped the corner of the makeshift stretcher he had been carrying.

"Damn it, Toya!" the other man whispered, "This is a Miburo captain, idiot! If the Shinsengumi found out you dropped his body, they'll have your head!"

"Geez… I'm sorry… I just felt this weird cold wind at my neck and…"

"Oh, stow it! Hurry up and get the body up!"

Okita watched bemusedly as they hurriedly lifted his body up. As they did, the sheets slipped off and he caught a glimpse of his body. "Hey, I look terrible," he commented to no one in particular, "I seem to remember having more muscles than that."

"God, this kid's skinny."

"Hey, I can say that about myself, but you can't!"

"Toya, you have a bloody death wish, saying that."

"That's right! Tell him, man!"

"Sorry, Hiroki. It was just a comment…"

"Yeah, whatever man."

"Respect the dead!" the recently dead howled.

Feeling uncharacteristically grouchy, Okita stalked after them as they continued heaving his body towards a hut outside the hospital. "You know," he said, even though he was aware they could not hear him, "I could have done without seeing all this. What am I still doing here? Shouldn't I be floating off to paradise or sinking into the fires of hell… or something like that? This is so… confusing. I need to ask for help." Desperately, he looked around, but for a hospital, the building was surprisingly free of spirits.

Mournfully, he lowered his head and entered the hut behind the men. It was only two minutes later that he realized he had passed right through the wall beside the door.

"God, finally," Toya sighed as they put the body neatly into one of the many rows of corpses, "Let's get out of here before we catch something."

"Ok," Hiroki agreed, "This place stinks."

"You don't smell so good yourself," Okita muttered, and tried to put the ghost of his katana through the man's head. He was more than a little irritated to discover that his katana had passed harmlessly through the man's eye.

Even after the men exited, Okita remained floating behind, staring down at his recently deceased self. "We could have done better you know," he said conversationally, "What a hell of a way to die! Maybe we should have committed seppuku…" He shook his head and sighed. "Regrets, regrets, regrets… I hate regrets."

His musings were interrupted when the door suddenly swung open to reveal a tall, lanky figure.

"Saitou-kun!" he cried, feeling pleasantly surprised. "How nice of you to… what the hell happened to your hair?" He stared in disbelief at the short hair his comrade now sported.

Saitou wandered over to the body and gently pulled down the covers to Okita's shoulders. "So you died," Saitou commented, and Okita rolled his eyes.

"Of course I died, Saitou-kun. What else did you expect me to do? Grow wings and fly away?"

"I suppose I should have come earlier," Saitou went on, "Before you died, I meant, but I was… occupied."

"Oh, you're forgiven. At least you came to look down on my poor, deceased body. Please note that I am generally not that skinny."

"God, you look terrible…"

"Hey…"

"But I guess that's what death does to one."

"You got that right."

A cigarette magically appeared in between the slender fingers, was lit and puffed on. "I hope to hell you didn't suffer."

"Oh I did, for four months, two weeks, five days, twenty-two hours, forty-six minutes and thirteen seconds, moving on the fourteen seconds… fifteen seconds… sixteen seconds…"

"What a way to go," Saitou went on, "Dying of an illness? What a fate! You should have committed seppuku."

"Really? I thought so too… only they kept all sharp objects away from me, and everyone I asked refused to be my second…"

Saitou grunted, and for a second, Okita was certain his comrade had heard him. His little bubble of joy was busted when Saitou went on, "You probably didn't want to leave a terrible mess for the nurses to clean up. Always so kind… one wonders how you ever managed to carry out all our missions."

"Eh… Saitou? You do remember that you were with me on some of missions?"

"You were so kind and polite all the time…"

"And you were there when I tortured that Royalist guy into confessing?"

"So gentle and sweet…"

"And how about the time when I cut off that man's eh… you know… just to intimidate the crowd?"

"So… hell, you didn't deserve to die."

"You got that right, but Saitou, please get the facts right. I was the scary, evil, cruel Shinsengumi First Captain, not the kind, polite, sweet, gentle Shinsengumi Fag Captain. You've got me mixed up with the captain of the seventh division, I'm sure of that."

Saitou puffed on his cigarette maniacally. "I'll have to get someone to record down what a nice guy you actually really were," he said, sounding a little distraught, "Tokio would do it; I know she would."

"Eh… that's all nice and everything, but you will remember to record down all my exploits as well, right? Right? Like that time I cornered this group of rebels in this alley? I remember some poet describing it as painting the world red."

"Can't let them think of you as a cruel bastard, now, could I?"

"Saitou-kun? I was a cruel bastard… or not really, because I was a legitimate child… but I was cruel! I was a Miburo! You've better stow that nice, polite image thing. It has to be bad for my reputation."

"Or maybe not," Saitou pondered, "Break a couple of hearts, it would. I do know that the lady at the inn adores you because she thinks you are a sadistic asshole."

"She did? Hell, I've adored her ever since I saw what she could do with a hovel to a group of unruly drunks."

There was a long sigh then Saitou dropped the cigarette and stuffed it out.

"Hey! That only just missed my body!"

"I will miss you, buddy."

"You just did."

"I will probably visit your grave and stuff…"

"That's nice."

"Maybe bring a bunch of flowers… I know Tokio would love that."

"Aw… geez… Saitou… you're making me tear up… don't look at me for a while, please?"

"Maybe lay out a plate of your favourite noodles…"

"Saitou-kun… don't make me bawl! Enough with all the mushy-squishy stuff!"

Saitou sighed again. "Now I'm off to serve the new government. See you some other day." Then he was gone.

For a long time, Okita hovered above his body, wiping the metaphysical tears away. "Such a nice man… always such a good friend to me…" He sniffed and sat for a while, swinging his legs – then he froze. "Wait. Serve the new government? The new…"

With a low growl, Okita leapt to the metaphysical equivalent of his feet and started to proceed towards the door out of sheer habit. "New government? I'll new government that traitor! That…" He passed through the door then was forced to back-paddle rapidly when he found himself face to face with a hooded figure.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

"It's a ghost!" he shrieked, and immediately felt very foolish.

"That is accurate," the figure replied, "You are presently a ghost."

Okita hesitated. Despite the bolded qualities of the speech, there was something strangely odd about the voice. For one thing, he was certain, very certain, that the voice was feminine. For another…

His eyes dropped down the robe. Either this person was a very, very muscular man, or a very well-endowed woman.

"Eh…"

"I am Death. Would you happen to be Okita Souji?" The hood moved slightly to reveal a pair of glowing blue eyes surrounded by dark (and for some reason) skeletal lashes.

"You're a girl!" he yelped.

"That is an accurate assessment. The present form I am taking is that of a woman."

"Eh…" For a moment, Okita's mind whirled. "So… you're here to take me away?"

"Yes. I should have been here earlier, admittedly, but there have been some mistakes made." Death gestured to him with her wrist, making clinking sounds as she did.

"Mistakes?" Okita questioned.

"Your questions will be answered subsequently."

"Ok…"

Okita watched in amazement as the world seemed to twist and distort suddenly. Out of the corner of his eye, he would catch a glimpse of a rocks, and endless barren landscapes, but when he turned to look, all he could see was a contorted vision of the world he was in.

"What is happening?" he asked in wonder.

"I am blending the two worlds together for you to enter."

"Ah… what an… interesting experience." For some strange reason, he felt it would not be polite to point out that he was starting to feel nauseous."

"That is accurate."

"Eh."

Then without warning, the two worlds snapped together. Now, before him was the endless stretch of barren land he had seen earlier.

"Is this… is this hell?"

"Incorrect. This is the waiting room."

"Ah… what's with the décor? I don't know about the after-life, but generally in my previous world, waiting rooms were pleasant little places with tea and…"

"The barren desert gives you room to think. There is space, and no pleasant things to distract you."

"Ah…"

"Remain in your current position."

Okita nodded and watched as Death clinked away into the distance. Unsure of what to do, he decided to do exactly what the waiting room was designed for – thinking.

Stooping, he started to draw circles in the sand as he tried to process what had happened recently. Firstly, he had died. Then his body had been abused by two men looking for a katana to their necks. Thirdly, Saitou had come, and scared the hell out of him. Lastly, he had been carried off by Death to a waiting room designed to give one room to think.

This was the most eventful day of his life.

After-life.

"I'm screwed," he moaned miserably, unconsciously tracing a picture of a pig in the sand, "I'm totally, absolutely, definitely screwed."

"That is incorrect."

For two seconds, Okita froze, his finger still stuck in the sand. The voice had come from behind him. "Death?"

"That is accurate."

"Eh…" Okita stood up and faced her. "So… what's the verdict?"

Death tilted her hood, and he had a feeling those luminous blue eyes were observing him. "Some things need to be explained first."

"Ok."

"For one thing. You did not die on time."

For a long time, there was nothing but silence until a gust of wind blew across the landscape, sweeping sand into Okita's metaphysical face.

"Excuse me?" he asked, his voice an octave higher. "I did not die on time?"

There was the general motion of shoulders as Death shrugged. "I do not understand it myself. Generally, the time of your death is Fate, and thus fixed. Yours, on the other hand, kept skipping."

"Skipping?"

"First, it was supposed to have been two days ago, the method stated as seppuku. Then it became one day ago, the method stated as murder. Then it became tomorrow, the method being of illness."

"What?"

"Yes. It is only now that it is written in my book that you died today of your illness."

Okita hesitated. "What's that… is that why you were late?"

"That is accurate."

"Then what is going to happen to me?"

There was another long silence as Death stood there, her black robes flopping about in the non-existent wind. "Heaven has no room for a hitokiri such as yourself, and Hell rejects you because you weren't registered beforehand so they haven't got a special room prepared for you."

"So?"

"So," Death said, and now, Okita was certain she was smiling, "I've decided to hire you."

"Hire me?"

"That is accurate."

"You mean…"

There was a sudden gust of wind again. This time, it enveloped Okita, covering him like a warm, thick blanket. He felt a strange change come over him. A new… power seemed to burn in him even as darkness fell over his burning eyes. Something cold and smooth appeared in his hand, and he looked at his new weapon. "You mean," he repeated, "I am now Death?"

Death smiled, and this time he could see her skeletal face clearly. "That is accurate."

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL