His long black hair and alabaster skin drew attention.

His unnaturally green eyes prompted taunts.

His happy personality faded away until there was nothing but sarcasm and despair.

His school life was torture, his home life was busy and the poor boy had no time for himself.

It wasn't until he was done his schooling, that the strange boy found his calling.

Dressed in black, long hair drawn into a ponytail and cap it all with a top hat.

He made a fantastic Undertaker.

Dead people couldn't make fun of him. Dead people couldn't taunt him, or throw sticks at him.

The dead were much better company, and they were wonderful listeners.

It was wrong, he knew, to pursue a woman.

But when she walked into his small workshop, she lit it up.

Alice was a ray of sunshine. Born half-Japanese half-American, her tan skin and honey blond hair stuck out like a sore thumb.

She was crying when she entered, tears falling from her big blue eyes and she dabbed frantically at them with her tiny lace handkerchief.

"What can I do for you today, Alice-san?"

She started, eyes darting as he stepped from the shadows and lit a lantern.

"I didn't mean to intrude, Undertaker-san." She placed a hand against her heaving bosom, which was hidden beneath a kimono embroidered with butterflies.

"I wasn't busy today. I haven't had much company today, except for Kyo and Kenji."

"Who?"

The undertaker ran his fingers along a coffin.

"Hideki Kenji-sama, youngest son of Hideki Hikaru. Born seven years ago, died on Monday." He gave a slight smirk down at the peaceful boy.

"What brings you to my workshop?" He didn't turn.

"I was being chased by some gang men and this was the first place I saw."

"There's a flower shop next door." He supplied.

There was a sudden banging on the door. Alice paled.

He sighed internally, but ushered her into his back room before returning to open the door.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen." He placed his hands together. "What can I do for you this gloomy evening? Are you here, pray chance, to be fitted?"

"Fitted?" The large man on the left grunted. "Whatchu talkin bout?"

"Why for your coffin!" He glided into his workplace and rummaged in one of the drawers. "Everyone will die sometime. I've got a discount on cherry wood coffins at the moment. Would you like to see?"

He moved to the back room, placing his hand on the doorknob.

"I warn you though," His face split into a devilish grin. "Don't disturb my customers."

"Customers?" The feminine male on the right scratched his head.

"Yes. Kenji, and Li. Kenji died Monday. Li died yesterday. Castration and nearly scooped clean! Makes my job so much easier."

"Let's go." The leader turned, shutting the door behind him.

The undertaker let out the blond, who was quiet paper than normal.

"Tea?"

She shook her head, striding to the door and leaving the pale man behind.

"You be back." He muttered. "Everyone always makes it here."

It was nearly four years later, when he felt the tremors of death himself. Having been diagnosed with cancer, it wasn't a surprise, but it was slightly disappointing.

The day he died was rainy, thundering and blue-white flashes of lightening illuminated inside of his simple bedroom.

He wished he had done more with his life. He wished he had found a love to hold.

He wished that Alice had seen him for more than just an undertaker.

Alice was fifty when she strode through the cemetery with her grandchildren.

She stopped before one of the graves, one she hadn't noticed beside her own father's.

It was simple, shaped like a headstone; except it was carved with skulls and looked like a large beast had clawed at it, tearing three claw marks out of the side.

The writing was still legible.

Here sleeps Ulquiorra Chifer, Undertaker.