"Calling a woman a thing isn't going to earn you any favors," Rukia says, nose wrinkling slightly at all of it — the tone, the presumption, even the small smile on his face that doesn't seem to run deep. Something, though, tells her that he's not underestimating her potential ability.

And that's the saving grace.

"I'm a reaper," she tells him, using the word that seems to resonate most with people in the city, natives or otherwise. "Guiding the souls of those who have passed away over to where they're meant to be."