A/N: Hey, guys! Since the dubbed episode of Ulquiorra's death aired last night, I decided to write my UlquiHime fanfic. Now, beware, as this contains spoilers from the ending of MI. If you don't care, or if you have already read my spoiler for Reincarnation, enjoy and tell me what you think! Love you all! ~Jet

Something was wrong, that much he could tell. Why wasn't he dead? He remembered being blown in half by that trash's cero; He remembered trying to finish the fight; He remembered feeling his body turning to dust; he remembered reaching out his hand towards that girl… And he remembered her reaching right back only to have his hand turn to dust in hers. He remembered dying. Ulquiorra Schiffer was dead.

But why isn't he now?

Ulquiorra had memories, but if he was dead… how could he remember? He had always believed that when you were gone, you were gone. But he was obviously wrong… or not dead. But he couldn't tell which.

"Oh, you're dead, alright."

Ulquiorra heard the voice, but had no idea where it came from, no idea who it belonged to. He felt an unknown presence approaching, but the spiritual pressure was weird. It wasn't that of a soul reaper, human, or even a hollow. It was different… but oddly the same as all of those. In fact, if felt sort of like a zanpakutou… but that was impossible. Why would a zanpakutou be talking to him?

"I'm talking to you, because I think we can benefit each other, hollow."

Ulquiorra wondered how the presence knew what he was thinking, but couldn't voice his question. He felt something touch him, but how is that? Ulquiorra was dead, nothing but ash. He suddenly had a body. He opened his eyes and looked up into a bright sun. But it wasn't the sun of Las Noches, nor the sun of the living world. He looked around and saw nothing but water.

"You're dead, hollow," the voice said from somewhere, echoing in that strange place. "I am also dead. But here we are, talking, thinking, breathing."

"How is this possible?" Ulquiorra asked slowly, indifferently looking for the mysterious voice.

Suddenly, a boy no older than seventeen appeared in front of Ulquiorra, his straight brown hair blowing in a nonexistent wind and his bright blue eyes sparkling mischievously. When he spoke, the metal bands on his lip glinted in the light. "I think that when I was killed, the man who killed me knew you would die, too. I think he placed you in my inner world because I know of a way to keep us both alive until my master returns."

"So, you are a zanpakutou?"

The boy scoffed. "Oh, no," he said haughtily. "Do not classify me with such lowly beings. I am a Death Scythe, and as such, I know not only how to bring death, but how to avoid it." The boy stood up and grinned down at Ulquiorra. "So, do you want to live?"

Ulquiorra thought for a moment. To live would mean that he would have to find that trash. Honor demanded that, should he live, he would not back away from his fight. To live would also mean he would be able to see her. But she loves that trash, Ulquiorra thought bitterly. If I were to live… would she be—happy—to see me? Ulquiorra felt a small frown tug at his lips. What of Lord Aizen? Had he succeeded? Had he failed? Would he expect Ulquiorra to rejoin him? Would Ulquiorra rejoin Lord Aizen if he did? And what of that girl, that none other than him knew of? Would he survive his last fight with that trash? A pair of bright, gray-brown eyes flashed in his mind, a smiling face. And he knew his decision.

"What would I have to do, to live, Death Scythe?"

The boy smiled wider. "You would have to accept me as your temporary blade, until my master is reborn and able to control me. Then, she will take the beings of Death from you."

Ulquiorra leveled his emerald eyes at the boy. "And until she is reborn?"

The boy licked his lips hungrily. "Until she is reborn," he said softly and stooped into a low bow. "Consider my powers, the powers of Shinokyaria, of the Grim Reapers, yours."