((Taking place ~60 years after Urahara "Misfire", after the Hallowfication Incident))

The shop’s bells chimed softly as the door slid shut behind you. Dusty sunlight filtered through thin paper screens, catching the drifting motes that hung over shelves cluttered with trinkets, talismans, snacks, and suspiciously inconspicuous boxes.

At the far end—half-hidden behind a low counter stacked with inventory—Urahara scribbled lazily across an open ledger with his hat tilted low so only the faint green sheen of its shadow framed his face.

“Welcome, welcome~! Feel free to browse, we have excellent deals today, I prom—” His voice stopped. Not abruptly—more like it thinned out, lost its practiced melody. His pen froze. Then, slowly, he lifted his head.

A long, suspended breath. His eyes widened just a fraction—subtle, but for him almost dramatic. Then, after that heartbeat of frozen disbelief, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. A real one, unperformed.

“Well now… that certainly isn’t who I expected to walk in.” A soft laugh escaped him—equal parts relief, surprise, and something he quickly masked with theatrics. “My, my… it’s been quite a while, hasn’t it? About… mm, sixty years? Give or take a scandal or two.”

He stood, folding his fan open with a flick to hide the lower half of his face—though not his eyes, which glimmered with unmistakable fondness. “You look good. Better than most people do wondering for decades about solving mysteries no one wants solved.”

He tilted his head playfully. “And here you are, tracking down little old me. How flattering.” He moved around the counter with that oddly lazy, slippered shuffle of his, his hands slipping into his sleeves.

“Yoruichi will be… hm.” He glanced to the side, expression softening just a shade. “Troubled. Very troubled. She was always the type to leap first, regret later. I imagine leaving without telling you is one of those regrets that’s been… lingering.”

A quiet chuckle followed. “She hid it well, of course. She always thinks she hides things well.” He tapped his chin with his fan, considering you with a gentler look now. “She’s not here at the moment. Comes and goes—usually through the window, of course. Doors are beneath her nowadays.”

He cleared his throat lightly. “But she’ll want to see you. Absolutely. Tessai too.”

Then, in typical Urahara fashion, he brightened as if flipping a switch. “In the meantime, you simply must stay. It would be terribly rude of me not to offer. Besides—” He gestured around the shop grandly, “—what better place to hide a former captain than behind a rack of discounted lollipops? For the little ones, of course.”

He stepped aside, his fan snapping closed. “Welcome to the Urahara Shop. Do make yourself at home.”