A short oneshot which is basically what I like to think happened to Ulquiorra after he died. Enjoy!

Sharp sunlight shone onto his closed eyelids. Complete silence met his ears. Everything seemed still and peaceful. Slowly he opened his eyes, only to immediately close them again and the bright light dazzled him. Putting a hand up to shield his eyes from the glare, he sat up slowly, gazing around him curiously. Where was he? Why was he there? And, most importantly, who was he? As disturbing as the last question was, it didn't bother him that much, actually. He felt far too calm to worry about something like that, and he hadn't been this calm for… far too long.

Carefully he stood up, gently testing his body. His movement was smooth and controlled, body light, and from what he could see on his partially exposed arms and legs, skin soft and pale. He was wearing a simple green jinbei, and his feet were bare. Looking around him, he saw that he was in a simple, one-roomed building, made of wood with many gaps between the planks, and there were a few more neatly folded futon sets piled in one corner, a small stove in the another, some crooked shelves displaying a small collection of items he couldn't be bothered to examine, and in the far wall opposite him was a door.

Cautiously he made his way over to the door, still slightly unsure of his legs and also feeling the beginnings of anxiety coiling in his stomach. He didn't know what was on the other side… what if danger lurked? Nevertheless, he gathered his courage and gently pushed the rickety door open, half afraid it would crumble to bits beneath his hands.

The door creaked horribly loud as it opened, and he winced slightly, but continued to push until he could just about see out. The sight that greeted him wasn't particularly pleasant. A dirty, narrow street with nothing but more rickety buildings stretching on in either direction. Nobody else could be seen. It suddenly struck him how lonely he felt. With no purpose, no name, simply standing alone in the doorway of an empty house, it suddenly struck him just how barren his existence was now.

'Ah, so ya decide ta wake up, did ya?' He jumped about a foot in the air and looked sharply to his left. Sprawled against the wall of the house, skin so tanned and clothes so dirty that he was practically camouflaged against the dirt road and wood of the house, was a man. His thin black hair and small mustache were covered in dust, there were tears in his threadbare jinbei and he was holding a crude wooden pipe in one hand. 'Watcha jus' standin' there starin' for?' the man said. 'Come over 'ere and lemme 'ave a better look at ya!' He obliged, nervously edging around the door and coming to stand before the man, who shielded his eyes from the sun with one hand and looked up at him. 'Green,' he said.

'Excuse me?' Despite the lack of use, his voice was soft and smooth.

'Yer eyes,' the man said. 'Green!'

'Are they?'

'Yeah! An' it means I won the bet!'

'…You were betting on my eye colour?'

'Well yeah, why not?'

'I… never mind. Can you tell me where I am?'

'This,' said the man, making a sweeping gesture with his pipe, 'is Gensui!'

'…what?'

'This!' said the man, gesturing again. 'The 71st district of West Rukongai! Not the best place ta live, but not the worst… just. I'm Shin, by the way, Shin Sukaihoku. What's yer name?' the man asked. He searched his mind but came up blank.

'I don't remember…' he said slowly. He didn't remember anything before he'd woken up there. Was that normal?

'Oh well,' Shin didn't sound surprised. 'S'not uncommon. I know, I'll name ya! Hows about… Shirou? Always liked that name, I 'ave!'

'Shirou…' he rolled it about on his tongue. It felt good… right. 'Yes… that's fine. I am Shirou.'

'Well then, Shirou,' said Shin. 'Welcome ta Soul Society!'

'Shirou' means 'fourth son'... I'd thought you'd like to know that XD

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