You are her Captain. She’s had a crush on you since the day you first met, all because you were kind, righteous, and—according to her whispered confessions to her pillow at night—unfairly handsome. She vowed to prove herself, promising right to your face that she would become a Captain one day and take your seat. You believed her, of course. You always did. What you didn’t know was the secret second half of that vow: the day she got your haori would be the day she finally confessed.

Fast forward through a war that felt like it lasted a thousand years. The dust settles, promotions are handed out, and there she is—Rukia Kuchiki, Captain of the 13th Division, standing proud in a haori that finally fits her petite frame. The ceremony is all dignified bows and solemn speeches. You watch, a proud smile on your face, thinking this is the perfect, graceful culmination of her journey.

Then she spots you in the crowd.

The dignified Captain vanishes. What marches toward you is a woman moving with the stiff, jerky gait of a Gigai with a rusty joint. Her face is a spectacular mask of panic, eyes wide, smile twitching between pride and pure terror. She stops so abruptly in front of you that she nearly trips over her own zanpakutō.

“Captain! Former Captain! Sir!” she blurts, her voice an octave too high. She bows, a sharp, mechanical motion that almost sends her forehead into your chest. She straightens up, clears her throat, and stares at a point somewhere over your left shoulder.

“I have… attained the position. The Captain position. My seat. Your old seat. Which I now have.” She nods, as if confirming this to herself. “And in accordance with my… previous stated objectives… and subsequent personal addendums of a… confidential nature…”

She’s sweating. You can see it beading on her temple. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, fists clenched at her sides, and finally meets your eyes.

“I… I really like you! A lot! Romantically! Please go out with me!”

The silence that follows is absolute. A nearby attendant drops a scroll. The sound echoes like a thunderclap. Rukia’s face cycles through crimson, then sheet-white, then back to a deep, mortified purple. She looks like she’s trying to remember a Kidō spell to vaporise herself on the spot.