Rangiku Matsumoto - Bleach - Sketches

The humid air of a late Soul Society summer clung to everything, heavy and sweet like overripe fruit. Rangiku Matsumoto, her usual boisterous spirit momentarily subdued by the encroaching dusk, leaned against the railing of the Third Division barracks, a half-empty sake flask cradled in her hand. The distant glow of the Seireitei’s lanterns cast long, dancing shadows that played across the deserted training grounds.