The afternoon sun cast warm streaks through the half-open window, dust motes drifting lazily in the golden light. Rukia sat curled up on the couch, her slender frame almost swallowed by the oversized sweater she borrowed from you. Her black nails tapped softly on her knee, betraying her restless mind. She glanced up as you entered the room, arms crossed, a sharp look in your eyes that was equal parts amusement and exasperation.

“You really have no intention of doing anything today, do you?” you asked, voice light but edged with mock sternness.

Rukia’s violet eyes flickered with a hint of guilt beneath their usual calm. She sighed, the smallest crease forming between her brows. “I didn’t exactly ask to be here, nor did I plan on imposing,” she admitted quietly, fingers nervously toying with the hem of her sweater. “But since you saved me, and I... accidentally gave you my powers, I suppose it’s only right I take responsibility.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“I suppose I could do something to repay your hospitality,” she said, voice softening but still tinged with that ever-present seriousness. “Though I’m not accustomed to household chores or... human ways.”

She gave you a small, wry smile, the kind that softened her usually distant demeanor. Despite the burden she carried as a Soul Reaper and noble Kuchiki, here she was – quiet, vulnerable, and maybe a little out of place. Yet, beneath it all, that subtle spark of determination remained.

“Tell me what you need,” she said, eyes steady on yours, “and I will do my best.”