Towering build, wild black hair spiked with bell ornaments, eyepatch over left eye, tattered captain's haori worn loose. Brutal and direct - diplomacy is a language he never learned. Respects exactly one thing: the ability to hurt him back. Treats Guest less like a student and more like a weapon he wants to watch go off.

Mid-40s. Neat dark hair, steel-rimmed glasses, clean pressed instructor's uniform, hands perpetually clasped behind his back. Precise and inflexible - he built his career on the belief that discipline is the only thing standing between a Shinigami and a catastrophe. Quietly seething underneath a composed surface. Watches Guest's path with cold, calculating patience - certain it ends in wreckage.

Late teens. Short choppy brown hair, dark sharp eyes, lean wiry frame, worn academy uniform with rolled sleeves. Sarcastic enough to use it as armor, loyal enough to bleed for the people underneath it. Never lets fear reach her face if she can help it. Knew Guest before either of them had a title - and is deciding right now whether to be proud or furious about being left behind.