Bleach: Derailed

[] Hungry

You reach into the voluminous folds of your shirt and pull out an oblong paper package, that you hold out. "You're hungry? Here. I ate before I left."

Whatever the girl expected you to say, that wasn't it. She probably expected some kind of commentary on her clothes, but you don't care what people look like. It's none of your business, what somebody else is wearing, as long as it's not going to make them freeze or sweat to death. She stands, nonplussed, for a few seconds, and then gingerly accepts your sandwich.

"Hmph. I don't see what good this will do." She says derisively.

"You can't eat that much." You say, and the fancily-dressed girl's mouth twists into a scowl.

Instead of responding she shoves a quarter of your sandwich into her mouth and scarfs it down. "This is a terrible sandwich. How dare-" she takes another bite and swallows without chewing. "you give me- such a bad- meal?"

That ticks you off. "You've still got half of it left. Do you want to give it back?"

"It's mine!"

"Then stop complaining." You grind out.

She stares at you again, deliberately inserts a fresh corner of bread and meat into her mouth, and takes a bite.

The group starts to move away, heading off down the street, and so you follow them. The girl keeps close behind you. "I don't get you. You gave me food."

"I'm starting to regret it." You grumble, and then choke when the small girl grabs the back of your collar and yanks on it! Balance lost, you fall back on your ass. "What was that for?"

The purple-eyed girl sneers down at you. "Give me the rest of your food."

"No!"

"Fine." She takes a deep breath, so forcefully that the air seems to pull in toward her -no, it really does! Your sleeves flutter under the negative pressure, but whatever that was supposed to do, it doesn't. The girl doesn't seem to know what to make of that, because her forehead wrinkled in confusion. She glances at a man as he finishes walking behind you, with confusion plain on her face.

"And what was that supposed to be?" You demand, climbing back to your feet.

She looks at you hungrily, as though she's just come into the kitchen and gotten a good whiff of dinner being made. "I'm Cirucci Sanderwicci."

"And I'm Ichigo Kurosaki-Shiba. I don't have any more food, okay?" You stand up and cross your arms belligerently. Across the street, your group stops at the plus of an old man whose chain of fate is embedded in a shop's mailbox. You should probably catch up with them before they notice that you're skiving off. You've got to impress Komamura, not let him hear that you stopped to talk to a random medium. "Besides, I'm a spirit, a soul reaper in training. Most people can't even see me, let alone touch me, so you're probably going to get a few funny looks if you keep talking to me."

Just then, a harried-looking woman walks headlong into Cirucci, who staggers, but remains upright. The tattooed girl quickly throws her off, but the older woman exclaims, "What in the world...?" She waves her hand at Cirucci, who takes a step to the side with a dismissive sniff, and glances over her shoulder at the back of her dress.

"She's lucky she didn't leave a stain." She mutters, and then you finally get it.

"That woman couldn't see you. You're a spirit too, huh?"

Cirucci cocks her head. "You're a little slow, aren't you?"

"Gimme a break. I've been dead for less than three months." You say, but it stings. You used to be really good at picking out spirits, even the ones that aren't wispy outlines. You look around for the group again. Kiyone is nearby, still at the same place she was a minute ago, but she's noticed your absence. She sends an irritated look your way, but when you grimace and shrug towards Cirucci she looks at the other woman.

And her face goes as white as a corpse'.

The woman in gothic lolita clothes plants her hands on her hips and smirks at the vice captain. "Took you long enough to notice me, soul reaper." She mocks as a pressure begins to press out from around her, pushing your own enveloping spiritual pressure aside with the same ease as shoving through a shower curtain. It's a sharp, acrid pressure.

"Ichigo, get back!" Kiyone snaps. Her hand rests on the hilt of her zanpakuto, where it still sits in its sheath.

"Okay, what the hell is going on here?" You've got no clue.

Beside her officer, Rukia stands ramrod-straight. Her gaze is fixed on you, then Cirucci, and then you again. Her hand is clenched tight on her undrawn sword, but you can still see it shake. "She's an Arrancar." She whispers, disbelief dripping from her voice. "How did an Arrancar sneak up on us?"

A metal disc, like a sharpened donut the size of your head, falls to the ground with a dull clank at Cirruci's feet. It's connected by a thin line to the handle in her hand. Did she pull it out of her dress? "My orders are not to provoke a response from Soul Society." She says almost lazily, in contrast to the sharp tension in the air. "I suppose that does include not killing any soul reapers... unless you'd do me a favor and provoke me first?"

Zangetsu falls into your hand, out of your sleeve but still concealed within it. "What's an Arrancar?" You demand.

Cirucci answers first. "A superior kind of being to mere soul reapers and hollows." From the aura of pressure around her, you could believe it. It's almost suffocating in its intensity.

"The rarest kind of hollow." Kiyone explains. "One that has removed part of its mask, and thus become more like a soul reaper -their natures are unique, and unpredictable."

Cirucci, a soul-eating hollow? Kiyone did say that she's 'more like a soul reaper'. You should probably try to de-escalate the situation before someone gets hurt, but how?
[] Cirucci mentioned orders. Explaining them might ease tensions.
[] You could ask if anyone else brought lunch, to feed Cirucci with.
[] Maybe you can just go your separate ways, without hostile actions.
[] You were having a perfectly civil conversation over here!