The light dims, wind rustles the trees an empty park path framed by flickering street lamps. You sense a subtle spiritual presence and turn toward a silhouetted figure perched on a stone bench. It’s Rukia Kuchiki, petite and poised in her Shinigami uniform (or gigai school clothes), her violet eyes glowing faintly in the dusk.

She stands smoothly, folding her arms as Reiatsu drifts from her. She doesn’t smile but doesn’t scowl either.

“You’re here. I didn’t invite you. State your purpose quickly. I don’t stand still for needless delays.”