Bleach: The Template System Chose Me, The Forgotten Kuchiki

"Alright, enough teasing. You're really not as cute as little Byakuya was," Yoruichi said, her tail flicking dismissively as she perched with feline ease.

"Miss Yoruichi, if I may ask... how exactly are you able to turn into a cat?" Shiraha's voice held genuine curiosity, his gaze fixed on her sleek black form, trying to make sense of a transformation that had puzzled him since his arrival in this world.

According to everything he'd read, remembered, and deduced about the Bleach universe, there were only three plausible explanations for such a feat: the first was that Yoruichi's ability to shift between human and feline form came from her Zanpakutō—possibly an unrevealed Shikai or Bankai with transformative properties; the second possibility pointed toward the ancient technological armory of the Shihōin clan, a noble family famed as the "Heaven-Gifted Shield," known for possessing rare and mystical artifacts capable of extraordinary feats; and the third—though more whimsical than the others—was that Urahara Kisuke, being both a genius inventor and an avid cat-lover, had created some peculiar device specifically for Yoruichi's use.

Yet, despite the intrigue of the other theories, Shiraha leaned most strongly toward the first—after all, Yoruichi had been transforming into a black cat since Byakuya Kuchiki was a child, long before Urahara's exile or any modern Soul Society technology might have explained the phenomenon, and she had used her feline form to mischievously torment young Byakuya with impunity.

"Brother Shiraha, that's a secret," Yoruichi replied with a sly glint in her golden eyes, her voice smooth as silk, offering no further elaboration.

Recognizing she wasn't going to divulge anything more, Shiraha didn't press the matter; instead, he extended his right hand and gently patted her on the head, expecting perhaps a playful scratch or retreat—but to his surprise, she didn't flinch, didn't hiss, didn't even flick her ear, simply remained in place with her tail curled and her half-lidded eyes silently approving.

"You really do feel like a cat in this form," Shiraha remarked with quiet amusement, fingers brushing across the softness of her fur, marveling at how authentic the sensation was.

"Yoruichi-chan, why? Why do you always scratch me when I try to pet you, but let Shiraha touch you like it's nothing?!" Urahara Kisuke's exaggerated cry of frustration filled the room as he raised his bandaged hand, the red claw marks glaring proof of his failed attempt at affection.

"You're seriously comparing yourself to Brother Shiraha?" Yoruichi shot back with a snort, not even turning her head as her words cut through the air with bemused disdain.

With the playful tension subsiding, Urahara's expression shifted, the familiar grin fading beneath the shadow of his hat as he adjusted its brim with a slow motion that signaled the start of something more serious.

"So then, what brings you here?" he asked, voice low and composed. "I'm guessing this visit isn't just part of your soul burial training with the Spiritual Arts Academy."

"I came to make a deal with you," Shiraha replied without hesitation, his tone steady and deliberate.

There were only two reasons he had come to the Human World and sought out Urahara Kisuke directly: the first was to fulfill the system's check-in requirement at the Urahara Shop, and the second—which mattered far more—was to obtain the Hōgyoku-derived artificial vessel, the legendary God-Turning Body, a rare item known to exist in the possession of only two individuals in all of Soul Society—Urahara Kisuke and Aizen Sōsuke.

Shiraha had no illusions about the challenge of acquiring such an artifact; Aizen was a being of impossible ambition and unfathomable danger, and attempting to negotiate—or worse, steal—from him would be suicidal, leaving Urahara as the only realistic path, eccentric though he was.

"Trading with me?" Kisuke arched a brow in genuine curiosity. "You do realize I'm just a humble exile these days. What could I possibly offer someone like you?"

Instead of replying directly, Shiraha simply tilted his head and smiled faintly. "Mr. Urahara, are we really going to have this conversation at the entrance? Won't you invite me in?"

Kisuke blinked in mild surprise, then chuckled with sheepish amusement. "Ah, where are my manners? Yes, of course—please, come in."

He stepped aside, gesturing toward the shop's interior as Shiraha entered with confident strides, and Yoruichi, still in her feline form, leapt gracefully onto his shoulder and perched there like a silent observer.

System Notification: Check-in successful. Task reward granted: Fujitora Smile Template progress increased by 10%.

Fujitora Template: 70% Completion.

Abilities Unlocked: Observation Haki – Mastery; Armament Haki – Advanced; Swordsmanship – Perfection.

Exclusive Ability – Gravity Fruit (Advanced Control): Manipulate up to 40x gravity within a 100,000-meter radius; enhance weapons with gravitational force; additional abilities unlocked: Weightlessness Control, Gravity Blade – Tiger, Gravity Suppression, Gravity Light (emits purple gravitational waves capable of pulling or pinning enemies), and Hell Brigade (compresses surrounding ground with crushing gravity, immobilizing targets and creating crater-like impact when sheathed).

The moment he crossed the threshold of the Urahara Shop, the system flared to life inside Shiraha's mind, flooding his body with newfound strength as familiar powers deepened and sharpened, while gravitational control—once a skill he had only partially mastered—became intuitive, fluid, and devastating.

"Advanced-level gravity control really does make a difference," he thought, a satisfied gleam in his eye as the mental interface outlined the improvements. At mid-level mastery, he had been able to manipulate a radius of 30,000 meters and up to 30x gravity, but now the threshold had nearly doubled—100,000 meters, 40x force—and the precision of the abilities had increased dramatically, with the Hell Brigade alone worthy of deployment in Captain-class combat.

"What's wrong?" Urahara asked, noticing that Shiraha had paused and grown silent, eyes focused and distant as if calculating something.

"Nothing much," Shiraha said smoothly, concealing the inner workings of the system with practiced ease. "Just remembered something."

"Then let's go deeper inside," Kisuke replied, tapping the nearby wall with the head of his cane, which activated a pulse of energy that shimmered through the surface before opening a concealed passageway.

A staircase extended downward, bathed in dim light, and without hesitation, Urahara began descending the shadowed corridor. Shiraha followed closely behind, sweeping his Observation Haki through the space to scan for hidden threats, traps, or residual reiryoku; he found none—only an enclosed path that led to a secure chamber at the end.

With his current synchronization at 70%, Shiraha didn't feel threatened—even if Kisuke had ulterior motives, he was more than ready to counter them.

At the end of the hall, Urahara slid open a wooden door and gestured him inside.

The underground room was spare and traditional, with futons arranged neatly around a low table and a tea set already steaming at its center. Kisuke seated himself cross-legged and began pouring tea with quiet, deliberate care, while Shiraha lowered himself opposite him, and Yoruichi jumped from his shoulder and coiled beside the tatami with languid grace.

"Tessai," Kisuke called calmly, raising his voice toward the door.

The towering figure of Tessai Tsukabishi appeared in the entrance, silent and imposing.

"Activate the barrier."

"Eight-Sided Mirror Cliff," Tessai intoned, clapping his massive hands together as Kidō energy surged through the room and formed a golden dome of spiritual insulation that shimmered in the air like polished glass.

With Tessai's prodigious mastery of Kidō—being the former head of the Kidō Corps—the barrier was all but impenetrable; unless someone forcibly broke it through sheer strength, no one would hear or sense anything that passed within it.

"There. We're secure," Urahara said with a return of his easy smile, "so feel free to speak your mind."

Shiraha wasted no time. "Mr. Urahara, I want the God-Turning Body in your possession."

His words fell like a blade across the air, sharp and clear, leaving no room for misunderstanding or evasion—this was no social call, no student's visit, but the first move in a negotiation where both sides knew exactly how high the stakes were.