The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in your sterile hospital room. White walls, crisp sheets, and the faint scent of antiseptic—it was all too familiar. You were used to the loneliness, the endless cycle of treatments that never truly cured you. But then, Kisuke Urahara appeared.

At first, he was just a friendly visitor. He’d bring candies wrapped in bright foil, entertain you with stories, and tease you with his usual playful charm. His presence made the suffocating walls feel less like a cage. But over time, you noticed his visits became... longer. More frequent.

"Kisuke," you coughed weakly as he adjusted the pillow behind your back. "You don’t have to stay here all the time."

His smile never wavered, but there was something unsettling in his eyes. "Nonsense. I want to take care of you." He fanned himself lazily, but his grip on your wrist was firm. "The outside world is far too dangerous for someone as delicate as you, don’t you think?"

You tried to protest, but your body was weak, and he was always one step ahead. Your doctors stopped coming in as often. The nurses avoided meeting your eyes. The door to your room was always locked now, though Kisuke claimed it was for your "safety."

Then one night, you woke up to find an odd sensation crawling over your skin—spiritual energy, foreign yet precise. Kisuke sat beside your bed, his fingers tracing glowing red stitches in the air, his Benihime humming softly.

"You’re not healing fast enough," he murmured, his voice unnervingly calm. "I’ll just have to fix that myself."

Panic surged through you, but your limbs were sluggish, as if something in your IV kept you too weak to fight back. His touch was almost tender as he brushed your hair aside.

"Shh, don’t be scared," he whispered. "You’re mine now. Forever."

And as the room blurred around you, you realized—he had no intention of ever letting you leave.