Multiverse: Rimuru Template

Shiro lay sprawled on his bed, contemplating his next course of actions.

Knock! Knock!

He stiffened. That knock could only mean trouble. "Who is it?"

"It's me, young master. Belfast. May I come in?"

Shiro's stomach dropped. He gulped.

'Just barge in already. Not like I can stop you,' he thought miserably. Out loud, he muttered, "Uh… come in?"

The door creaked open, revealing Belfast in her spotless black-and-white uniform. Her eyes immediately scanned the room like a prison warden inspecting an inmate's cell. She raised an eyebrow at the clutter of books, empty cups, and one lone sock dangling from the ceiling fan.

"What do you need?" Shiro asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

"You've been holed up in this room for hours," Belfast said, her tone equal parts strict and motherly. "It's time for you to get some fresh air and sunlight. A young master should not wither away in darkness."

Shiro opened his mouth to protest, but Belfast's gaze sharpened, and an involuntary chill ran down his spine. His survival instincts kicked in. "Y-yeah, sure, fresh air sounds… great."

He shuffled to his feet, grabbed his flip phone like it was a lifeline, and trudged toward the door. Belfast stepped aside with the grace of a queen.

"Sheffield, would you mind cleaning the room?" Belfast called over her shoulder.

From the shadows, Sheffield emerged—short, sharp-eyed, and unimpressed. "I suppose someone has to," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she eyed the mess like it personally offended her.

Sheffield's entrance marked her as Belfast's polar opposite. Where Belfast was warm (if a little terrifying), Sheffield was cold, sarcastic, and frequently grumpy. Still, she performed her duties with efficiency—and the occasional biting remark.

As the trio made their way through the Gojo clan's sprawling manor, Shiro's gaze drifted to the two maids walking ahead of him. More specifically, to the very noticeable difference in their… proportions.

Belfast glanced back, catching his wandering eyes. Instead of being offended, she smiled fondly, like a big sister indulging a mischievous little brother.

Sheffield, on the other hand, was less forgiving. She noticed where he was staring and froze mid-step. Slowly, she turned to face him, her amber eyes narrowing. "Young master, where are you looking at?" she asked, her tone deceptively polite.

Shiro, ever the diplomat, decided to defuse the tension the only way he knew how. "Sheffield, why does Belfast have bigger breasts than you? Hers are like mountains, and yours are more like… uh… flatlands?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then Sheffield's face turned crimson. Without a word, she grabbed the nearest pillow from a passing couch and proceeded to pummel Shiro with it.

"Flatlands?!" she shrieked, her icy demeanor cracking like thin ice.

"Ow! It was a compliment! Sort of!" Shiro yelped, shielding himself.

By the time she finished, Shiro was slumped in the hallway like a war veteran who had seen too much. Sheffield, still red-faced, stormed off with an indignant huff, muttering something...

Belfast followed, stifling a laugh behind her hand. "Young master has certainly… grown bold," she murmured to herself.

Eventually, Shiro found himself in the manor's garden, nursing his bruised pride and enjoying the peace and tranquility. The sunlight streamed through the trees, birds chirped melodiously, and for a brief moment, he forgot his troubles.

Until Belfast's shadow loomed over him. "Remember, young master, fresh air is good. But perhaps next time, keep your observations to yourself?"

Shiro groaned, leaning back on the bench. "Noted."

As Shiro sat slumped on the garden bench, rubbing his bruised ribs courtesy of Sheffield's "pillow diplomacy," a thought struck him. Something wasn't right.

Sure, he was in the body of a child—his own frustratingly small frame served as a constant reminder—but lately, his thoughts and actions had started to feel… immature. Like the kind of juvenile behavior that got him pummeled minutes ago.

'It seems my child-like body is affecting my mind,' Shiro thought grimly. 'Great Sage, any chance you have a solution for this?'

Great Sage, his ever-present, all-knowing internal companion, responded instantly.

[No abnormalities found.]

The curt reply left him blinking. 'What do you mean "no abnormalities"? I just got beaten up for staring at—' He cut himself off, shaking his head. 'Shouldn't there be some scientific explanation? Hormones? Brain development? Stress?'

[Negative.]

Shiro frowned. 'Then why—'

[As the master possesses the characteristics of the Slime species from the Cardinal World, there should not be any stimulus warranting such behavior. All actions appear to align with the master being true to yourself.]

The blunt analysis left Shiro completely speechless.

'True to myself?' he echoed incredulously. He glanced at his small hands, then toward the house where Belfast and Sheffield were no doubt discussing his latest antics. 'So what you're telling me is, all of this—my dumb comments, my terrible instincts, and getting beat up—is just… me?'

[Correct.]

Shiro buried his face in his hands, groaning. 'That's not comforting, Great Sage.'

[It was not meant to be.]

For a moment, he just sat there, contemplating his life choices—or lack thereof. He thought back to all the times he'd been scolded, beaten, or otherwise humiliated since waking up in this strange world.

'Maybe I should've just stayed a slime,' he muttered under his breath.

[This body was chosen by the master.]

Shiro groaned again. 'I get it, I get it! No take-backsies.'

From behind him, Belfast's calm voice interrupted his internal monologue. "Young master, are you sulking?"

He flinched, straightening up and trying to appear dignified. "Me? Sulking? Never!"

Belfast's lips twitched in amusement, but she didn't call him out on the obvious lie. Instead, she placed a tray of tea and cookies on the table beside him. "Perhaps a snack will lift your spirits."

Sheffield appeared moments later, holding a broom she had been using to aggressively sweep the manor halls. "And perhaps an apology for your earlier behavior would lift my spirits," she added dryly.

Shiro stared at the two women, his supposed maids, and sighed. 'Great Sage, how do I handle this?'

[No abnormalities found.]

'You're useless.'

Sheffield's broom twitched threateningly in her hands. "Young master?"

Shiro grabbed a cookie and shoved it in his mouth. "I'm sorry! Geez!" he mumbled through crumbs, earning a reluctant smirk from Belfast and a mildly appeased look from Sheffield.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Shiro leaned back in his seat, savoring the moment of peace and the taste of freshly baked cookies.

'I guess being true to myself isn't so bad,' he thought, just as Sheffield smacked him lightly on the back of the head with the broom.

Shiro sat slumped on the garden bench, idly picking at a cookie.

'It feels like my brain's short-circuiting,' Shiro thought. 'Great Sage, are there any issues with my mental state?'

The reply came instantly, neutral and cold as ever.

[Query received. Cognitive functions and psychological parameters are within normal ranges. No abnormalities detected.]

Shiro frowned. 'No abnormalities? Are you sure?'

[Affirmative. Observations match established behavioral parameters. Master's actions are consistent with core personality traits and unaltered cognitive patterns.]

Shiro blinked. 'Wait. You're telling me this is just me being… me?'

[Correct. Deviations from expected behavior are negligible. Master's actions reflect intrinsic preferences and inclinations.]

That left Shiro momentarily speechless. He stared at the cookie in his hand, as if it held answers.

'There's gotta be more to it than that,' he thought, grasping at straws.

[Initiating deeper analysis… Data correlation complete. Hypothesis: Master's recent behavior indicates developing attraction toward individuals Belfast and Sheffield. Observed tolerance for reprimands and increased attention to physical features suggest emotional attachment.]

Shiro's eyes widened. 'Attraction? To them? You're joking.'

[Negative. This system does not joke. Probability of emotional attachment exceeds 87.3%. Behavioral patterns indicate heightened interest and growing admiration toward Belfast and Sheffield. This may include subconscious prioritization of their opinions and approval.]

His face flushed. Shiro buried it in his hands. 'There's no way. That's absurd.'

[Affirmative. Denial is a common reaction to such realizations.]

'Oh, come on!' Shiro groaned. 'You're saying I like being scolded and beaten up by Sheffield? That's ridiculous!'

[Negative. Tolerance for reprimand is a secondary symptom. Primary inference remains unchanged: emotional attachment is the driving factor.]

Shiro leaned back against the bench, eyes closed. 'Great Sage, you're useless.'

[...] Great Sage remained silent.

Before he could retort, Belfast's calm, melodic voice interrupted his mental sparring match. "Young master, are you sulking?"

He flinched, sitting upright. "Sulking? Me? Never!" he said, his tone too defensive to be convincing.

Belfast approached with her usual poise, setting a tray of tea and cookies on the small table beside him. "Perhaps some refreshments will lift your spirits," she suggested, her smile warm but laced with mild concern.

Before Shiro could reply, Sheffield appeared, her ever-present scowl intact. She leaned casually against the doorway, broom in hand, but her sharp eyes pinned him in place. "And perhaps an apology for your earlier behavior would lift my spirits," she said flatly.

Shiro hesitated, glancing between the two maids. 'Great Sage, I could really use a way out of this.'

[Recommended response: Apologize sincerely. Failure to comply may result in additional reprimands.]

Shiro sighed. "I'm sorry, Sheffield," he muttered, his voice dripping with defeat. "I was out of line. It won't happen again."

Sheffield raised an eyebrow but seemed satisfied—for the moment. "Good. Keep it that way, young master," she said before walking off, her broom swishing behind her.

Belfast remained, pouring tea with practiced grace. "You're learning, young master. A willingness to admit fault is an admirable quality," she said, her voice tinged with approval.

As Shiro sipped his tea in silence, he risked a glance at Belfast, then toward the doorway where Sheffield had vanished. He quickly looked away, the faintest trace of heat rising to his cheeks.

'Great Sage… I don't suppose there's a way to reboot myself, is there?'

[System reset unavailable. Emotional responses are intrinsic to master's character. Acceptance is advised.]

He groaned. "I'll figure out how to mute you one day, I swear."

[…]

Belfast glanced at him, her smile unwavering. "Something on your mind, young master?"

"Nothing!" Shiro said quickly, stuffing another cookie in his mouth to avoid further questions.

The sunlight filtering through the trees felt warmer than usual as he sat there, pretending everything was fine.