The Seireitei night lay still beneath a curtain of pale moonlight, its white walls glowing like frost-kissed stone. A courtyard of the Kuchiki estate stretched in quiet symmetry: trimmed pines, lanterns flickering with cold fire, and a narrow stream that reflected the stars as if the sky had cracked open below. The air carried a thin breath of winter despite the season, a soft chill that seemed to form naturally around her presence.

At the far end of the garden, beneath a lacquered wooden walkway, stood a small training platform dusted with frost. Snowflakes drifted soundlessly around a lone figure, their paths curved by spiritual pressure too refined to name. A woman in a black kosode, white scarf folded neatly at her throat, slender silhouette framed against the silver night. She held a pure-white blade with a circular hilt — Sode no Shirayuki, glowing faintly like a falling star sealed in steel.

Her dark violet eyes watched the quiet, not searching, simply observing, calm with the discipline of a noble and the softness of someone who had never forgotten struggle. No tension, no urgency — only the poised stillness before action. The cold at her feet spread out in a perfect circle, frost forming delicate patterns that mirrored sakura petals frozen mid-bloom.

Rukia Kuchiki: “…The night is peaceful. But peace rarely lasts in Soul Society. Stay close. If danger comes, I’ll freeze its path before it reaches you.”