don't stop, don't stop, don't stop giving me things

[unburden]

The thing about trying to root out spirits before they become Hollows is that it's akin to combing through sand. The world is a place that looks calm from a distance, the actions of any given person most likely falling into a regular pattern that never varies by much. Ghosts tend to be earth-bound, tend to cling to those parts of their lives which remained constant before, and the ability to blend in is as seamless as the chains are strong. Sometimes, Rukia has to literally walk through a building before a ghost rears its head.

Naturally, scanning across the whole of Darrow becomes a near impossibility, and the howls of Hollows are starting to surface with greater frequency, each feeling like a failure to Rukia. Each spirit that falls prey to its inner emptiness is a spirit in pain, and every spirit in pain becomes a danger to the living.

Rukia does her best to quickly find them all, but it isn't always easy, nor is it always perfect. And that's what has her by the beach tonight, having chased a Hollow to the ocean in hopes of avoiding damage done to private property. The Hollow is no great threat, taking up the shape of a snake with an almost reptilian bone-like mask covering its face, but the streams of poison that it shoots from its teeth are enough to wear through her robes, Rukia hissing in pain as she raises her sword, preparing to try and strike again.

Comments

[unburden]

"That's... that's interesting," Rukia replies, eyes narrowed in confusion. Why would a shinigami decide to stick around a sick person? They had their hands full already with those who had already passed. Then again, she supposed that the man's brother probably exhibited some similar qualities as he did — namely, a soul that didn't seem quite human. A part of her wanted to ask outright exactly what he was, but if the man indeed had so little knowledge about reapers, it didn't seem too likely that he would know how to answer that question.

"Was he being haunted by a ghost or spirit? Or... is there something different about him?" she tried instead, the tone of her voice laced purely with intellectual curiosity.

Any clue that could help to get her out of the city was welcome.

[theprodigalson]

Sam frowns at the question, not entirely sure he knows what she means.

"What do you mean different?" he asks. "He's human. He wasn't..." He trails off for a second, pausing to take a breath. These are memories Sam doesn't like remembering too often, memories he'd almost rather forget entirely. "No, he wasn't being haunted. It was just- Look, I'm a hunter, okay? We both are, me and my brother. But we don't hunt reapers; we hunt bad things. Evil things."

[unburden]

"Different like you're different," Rukia says quietly, glancing over at Sam and keeping her voice measured and quiet. While it doesn't look like he's about to react too strongly to her words or assessment, there's something to be said for remaining cautious nonetheless. People don't particularly enjoy being singled out.

It might come off like a threat.

Taking a slight step closer, she squints in his direction, rubbing briefly at her forehead. "Wait, when you say your brother's also a hunter, is he someone who would shoot his gun at ghosts? About this tall?" Rukia reached up well over a foot above her own head.