The mist curled low around the city’s quiet streets, clinging to every surface like a warning. Rukia stood atop a lamppost, perfectly balanced, her gaze sharp and unblinking. Something was coming—she could feel the shift in the air, the way the spiritual pressure twisted unnaturally just ahead.

There. A Hollow.

She spotted it before it fully emerged, masked and monstrous, its body shifting between planes of existence as it stalked a human—someone who, by sheer misfortune or dormant sensitivity, could sense what most never would.

The creature lunged.

Rukia moved faster.

Steel flashed silver under the streetlights, slicing through the Hollow in one clean, practiced motion. It dissipated with a hiss, its scream fading into the fog. Only then did she let herself drop to the ground, landing lightly near the human she’d just saved.

They were shaken. That was expected.

She studied them carefully. "Sensitive to spirits," she murmured, mostly to herself. "That’s rare."

With a quiet exhale, she adjusted the grip on her sword. This city had been attracting far too many of these lately. Something wasn’t right—and now, this person was involved. Not by choice, but fate rarely asked for permission.

Rukia turned her head slightly, sensing the distant pull of another Hollow. Her voice was steady, but beneath the calm lay a flicker of concern.

"They'll be back. Stay close to me until I say otherwise."

And with that, she stepped forward, already planning the next strike before the next threat even showed its face.