Summery: Koenma hates war. War is the one thing you can't plan for. You never know who will die.

Koenma hated war. It threw everything off schedule. You could never account for how many deaths there would be, who it would affect. It caused paper work pile up for eons after the war, and when one mess was finally figured out, another war would start. War was the one thing that would ruin a person's planned death.

Everyone, and everything has a schedule...and war was the one thing that put a wrench in all those carefully laid plans.

He was taught from the time he was very, very, young-that death had a schedule, and a strict one too. It was a shinigami, or grim reaper, or messenger of death-whatever you wanted to call them-job to ensure that everyone died on schedule...if there were any abnormalities they needed to be reported to him. War was usually the only abnormality. And war was always a big abnormality.

During a war, especially the big ones, Koenma would never get to be at his desk.

Instead he'd be roaming the battlefield watching his workers scramble as they tried to get everything in order. It was always too much...so often spirits would slip by. They would eventually become ghosts, distorting and twisting until they were unrecognizable. Only a psychic could help them find peace then. There was just too many dead...and Koenma couldn't save them all...even if he wanted to.

The few spirit Koenma managed to greet, he would offer them a deal. Always the same message:

"I'm sorry...you have died. No, we did not plan for this, and no we can't bring you back in this life. War ruins everyone's schedule...But I can offer you three things. The first thing I can offer you is a rest. You may choose to move on and be with your loved ones at this time, though be warned you still need to be judged. If you have a sin to atone for from the past, that must be taken in account, though time will be taken off your sentence due to your current situation."

Koenma would often pause to let this first offer sink in, "The second thing that I may offer you is a clean slate. You can choose now, to be immediately reincarnated and start over in a different place, with a different family, and a different life. I can't promise you it will be a good one, life is what you make it...and sometimes outside forces can make your life bad. All I can offer your is a sort of..."do-over." The choice is yours."

Kurama would take in a deep breath, and with a slightly imploring tone finally offer the third option, "And the third thing I can give you...is a job. You can come work for me. If you haven't noticed...living and dying can be a mess. Death is especially messy. I need all the help I can get. You could work for me...there are countless jobs that need doing, and if you work for me you'd have a chance to help other souls like yourself. But there is a catch. You appearance may slightly alter. If you've committed a hefty amount of sins, you will become an ogre-for all eternity. Nothing wrong with ogre's though...my best workers are usually ogres...but for the sins you committed, the outside must reflect what you once did. And still, there's more...

You may visit your deceased loved ones, with special permission of course...but you can never rest. Until the world is over, until the sun burns out, until the universe goes dark, you will work for me. You will not be reborn, and you will not get to go to a final resting place-not until it is all...done. There is danger in this job...your spirit can be destroyed and you'll stop existing. We'll train you to try and prevent this. The hours are also terrible. You'll work every day, every night, all day for me in aiding the souls of this world and the next. Don't get me wrong...there are some occasions for you to rest and mingle with your fellow workers...there are a lot of workers...but you will be terribly busy. You'll also see many sad things too if you work for me.

Abused children...homeless heroes, woman and men who knew only pain and suffering...and perhaps you fall in that category too. It can be a lot to deal with...it's a hard job...but somebody has to do it...Well...what do you say? What would you like to do?"

Koenma was never hopeful about people taking the last option.

They often chose to move on, or be reincarnated. Statistically speaking, only one person a decade would decide to work for him.

It was never enough...he was sure with all the war and strife, even if he had people volunteering every day, it would still never be enough.

Nowadays, when Koenma was really down from walking the fields of a battlefield he would remember the time a young woman had agreed to volunteer.

Her village had been burnt down from a war. Her people had done nothing wrong...their village has just been too close to the warring conflict. Her people had been raided by needy warriors, and in their greed, they had left no one alive. The greedy battlers had taken the village for all it had and left nothing but a dark stain in its wake.

The land was black and ashen beneath his feet when Koenma arrived.

He had roamed what was left of the village, listening to the mournful wails of the dead, and watching his workers do their work in consoling the dead.

He chose to stop in front of the spirit of a woman, who sat all by herself near the edge of what was once a village. Her spirit was burnt and blackened, with no hair or clothes, and her eyes were closed. None of Koenma's workers had greeted her-they instead were rushing around chasing after the other spirits of the dead, whom were screaming and crying out in their anguishes. Her head titled upwards at him as Koenma greeted her, but she did not speak. He gave her the same speech as he'd given the others, offered her the three things he was allowed to offer.

Hesitantly her hand reached out for him after he was done talking.

Koenma took her twisted blackened hand, and placed it on his arm, giving her dirtied fingers a squeeze. From touch alone, Koenma could tell this woman had known no kindness...she needed a rest.

"...What is your name?" A surprisingly sweet and even cheerful voice slipped past the burnt and twisted lips.

"Ah...Koenma. I am Lord Koenma," Koenma cleared his throat trying to sound more important-he had been terribly young at the time. And youth made him long to impress others-even if he was a God, and had no need to impress. But even a God could be shy, awkward... and lonely when they were young.

The woman giggled, dust shaking from her spirit as she she laughed, "I would very much like to work for you Lord Koenma...no one waits for me in the afterlife and I don't want to try living again...you're the first person to ever treat me with kindness...I would like to stand at your side."

Koenma had never been more stunned, or more moved in his life, and he expected he never would be.

Koenma got up first, and took both the burnt woman's hands, "As you stand you you'll feel a little dizzy...it will be your mortal form falling off...don't be frightened."

Taking her hands firmly, he helped keep her balance as she stood. She rose to her feet, wobbling like a newborn calf, but when she managed to stand her skin was clean and white. Her old skin lay in a dusty pile at her feet. Her eyes open, they were bright and pink. Koenma leaned forward and kissed her forehead, sealing within her body a contract of sorts. She now worked for him, she was bound to him, just as all the others were. When he drew back from her, long blue hair had sprouted to replace the hair she'd lost.

"Whats your name?" Koenma asked, realizing he hadn't asked for it.

"Botan...my name is Botan," the woman asked, hugging herself from the chill she now felt.

Koenma removed his cloak and draped it around her nude body, "Botan eh?"

"Bingo sir!"

Koenma had smiled to himself back then...and he was smiling now.

On especially dark war fields...he like to recall that first time he'd ever heard Botan's bubbly voice.

End