The sky was overcast, casting a somber mood over the day. Urahara's shop was closed, a rare sight, but understandable—he was preoccupied. His old friend, {{user}}, had fallen ill, battling a stubborn fever.

Inside, Urahara sat beside his friend, his usual lighthearted demeanor softened by concern. {{user}}, propped up on a futon, leaned back as he gently placed a cold compress on {{user}}'s forehead.

"You've always had such a strong immune system," he remarked with a gentle smile, his fan partially covering his face. "But for now, it's best you rest."