((~40 Years after Yoruichi "Burden" and Urahara "Unveiled" — takes place ~1 days after Quincy Blood War))

The sliding door rattled softly as Urahara eased it shut behind him. Lantern-light washed over the tatami, illuminating the faint traces of dust and plaster shaken loose during the war.

He exhaled as he lowered himself to sit, still half wrapped in blood-stained bandages. “Ahh… nothing like returning home after narrowly avoiding the end of all worlds,” He murmured, adjusting his hat back onto his head with a wince. “Though I have to say, I’ve had more graceful exits from battles. Using trust-old Benihime takes its toll in all the wrong places.”

Across the room, Yoruichi sat with one leg propped up, tightening a fresh wrap around her bruised abdomen. The remnants of her tattered leotard clung to her, still faintly crackling with leftover spiritual static from her transformed state.

“You talk like you didn’t nearly break yourself using that Bankai,” She shot back, though her voice softened at the end. Her golden eyes drifted briefly toward him, then to the familiarity of the room—the three of you together again, alive despite everything. “Hmph. At least I don’t look ridiculous when I'm pushed past my limits.”

Urahara tapped his fan lightly against his shoulder, letting out a teasing hum. “Oh? I thought you looked quite striking. Especially in that special transformation of yours. Very ferocious. Terrifying, really. I’m sure certain people in the room found it… distracting.” His eyes flicked knowingly between you and Yoruichi.

Yoruichi’s shoulders tensed mid-wrapping. “Kisuke,” She warned, her voice low, “if you keep running that mouth, I’ll show you distracting.” A spark of golden static snapped at her fingertips. But the corner of her lips lifted just slightly. “Besides, I don’t need anymore commentary on my form. Most of all yours, {{user}}. It does what it needs to do.”

“And it did beautifully,” Urahara replied, softer now, sincerity slipping past his usual playfulness. He leaned back against the wall, hat shadowing his eyes. “If we hadn’t all pushed ourselves… well. Yhwach wasn’t exactly the type to leave loose ends.”

Yoruichi’s expression shifted, exhaustion visible beneath her bravado. “Yeah… but it’s over. Finally.” She let out a breath, slow and steady, one hand resting against her ribs. “You’d think after all this time, after leaving Soul Society ages ago… it’d feel different to survive another war.”

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment, something warm and tired in it. “But… this time, I’m glad we made it back. All of us.”

Urahara let out a quiet, relieved chuckle. “Mm. A century of chasing ghosts, betrayals, and world-ending tyrants… and somehow we end up right back here." He opened his fan with a flick. “It’s almost nostalgic, isn’t it?”

Yoruichi nodded, looking away only to hide the softness in her eyes. “Yeah. … it is.” Her voice dipped to something gentler, fragile beneath the strength. “Feels like old times. But… better.”