Rivalry (Urahara x Reader)

Test

I walked into my office late that night, the cool air of the evening following me in as I closed the door behind me. My muscles ached from standing around at the joint training, the residue of hours spent leading Squad 9 and observing Squad 7's intense practice. The room was dimly lit, bathed in a warm glow from the lamp on my desk and the light filtering through the shoji screens. I made my way to the desk, eyes falling on a piece of paper that seemed out of place among the clutter.

A thin, white envelope lay there, folded neatly with an elegance that seemed almost intentional. The handwriting was unmistakable—delicate, flowing strokes that I knew well. Curious, I reached for the letter, unfolding it and reading the words that leapt off the page:

"Y/N, I know you're busy with training and dealing with the new intel on the hollows, but I was hoping you'd take a little time for yourself and join me for a conversation. I have a few matters to discuss, and I thought it might be nice to unwind. The Squad 3 barracks, tonight. Don't make me wait. – Gin."

I stared at the letter for a moment, the invitation pulling me in with a familiar tug. A mix of curiosity and wariness settled in my chest, but I knew I couldn't ignore it. There were few people I trusted as much as Gin, despite the mystery that shrouded him. It was an opportunity I couldn't pass up, especially with what was going on with his squad.

Pulling my haori over my shoulders, I walked down the long hallways of the barracks. The flickering light cast shadows that danced with each step, the quiet hum of the Soul Society at night surrounding me. The closer I got to Gin's office, the more palpable the tension became, as though the walls themselves knew something was about to happen.

I walked into Gin's office late that night, the cool air of the evening following me in as I closed the door behind me. The dim glow of late moonlight seeped through the shoji screens, casting warm, honeyed beams that lit up the room in muted tones. The papers scattered across the desk and the small, carefully arranged trinkets on the shelves felt familiar, grounding. It was almost surreal how ordinary everything seemed, given the weight of what I was about to hear.

Gin sat with his back against the chair, one leg crossed over the other, and his silver hair tumbled messily over his eyes. His eyes were open... this was serious. When he saw me, that sly grin of his spread across his lips. "You made it," he said, the teasing lilt in his voice making my pulse quicken. He motioned to the chair across from him with a lazy flick of his hand. "Take a seat. I've got something for you."

I arched an eyebrow but did as he asked, crossing the room and sinking into the chair. He didn't waste any time, the humor in his eyes sharpening as he leaned forward, eyes glinting with mischief and something deeper, more serious.

"Lately, there's been a strange shift in my squad," he began, voice low. "I've noticed a change, and it's not just the usual tiredness from training. They're... different. Angry, irritable. It's like something's gnawing at them from inside."

I shifted in my seat, concern replacing the edge of my exhaustion. 

"Different how?" I asked, fingers drumming lightly on my knee.

Gin stood up, his movements languid but purposeful. He walked over to the shoji screens, fingers trailing over the delicate patterns as if lost in thought. "Sudden outbursts. Arguments where there shouldn't be any. A type of aggression that's out of character for them." His voice fell quieter, and I saw the briefest flash of something in his eyes—a real concern, fleeting but genuine. "I'm worried it might be more than just fatigue."

My brow furrowed. "Has there been any sign of external influence? Hollow activity, maybe? Something that could be affecting them?"

Gin's smirk returned as he turned to face me, taking a step forward until the space between us was almost nonexistent. His silver eyes were sharp, reflecting a mix of determination and the familiar teasing glint I knew all too well. "Not that we've seen. But if it is something else... I want you and your squad to investigate. You're the only one I trust to dig deep enough to find the truth."

My chest tightened at that, a flutter of nerves mixing with the thrill of responsibility. As he reached for my hair, brushing a loose strand behind my ear, my breath caught, heart pounding as he held my face, his touch warm and searching. His gaze dropped to mine, studying, a question forming in the depths of his eyes.

"Why are you so touchy today, Gin? You were never like this." I said with a hitch in my voice trying to break away from the intimacy in the atmosphere.

The room seemed to stop breathing as I stared up at him, eyes wide, my body caught between a burst of heat and the tension of his words. It felt like the space between us was charged, my heart racing as I scrambled for the right words. I swallowed hard, every ounce of composure hanging by a thread.

"I just wanted to see if you trusted me .Well if not you would've already smacked my hand away and hollered for help. "he whispered, fingers still grazing my cheek, making me freeze.

His voice and demeanor immediately changed into his usual self. Grinning and playful. He once again closed his eyes as I brought my right hand to my chest to attempt to calm my heart.

"I trust you, Gin," I replied, voice barely above a whisper but firm.

He straightened up, pulled his haori straight as he stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. He smiled a smile not of amusement but relief and calm.

Before I could say anything else, he spoke about the case in more detail, laying out the accounts of squad members who had become more agitated, their tempers flaring at the smallest things. The stories were consistent—sudden bursts of rage at enemies, irritability that went beyond exhaustion, a strange, simmering tension. There had even been reports of unexplained physical reactions, like the fists of a squad member shaking after a confrontation, eyes wide and wild as if something inside him was fighting to get out.

I leaned forward, eyes narrowing as I listened to Gin's descriptions. "Do you think this is a psychological influence or something more... tangible?"

Gin's face was unreadable for a moment before he spoke, voice low and tinged with a trace of worry. "I'm not sure, but it's enough to make me worried. And that's why I'm asking you to watch them, and yourself, closely."

A sharp knock at the door broke our tense exchange, and Gin stepped back with a nod. The atmosphere in the room shifted, leaving behind the sharp edge of worry and the subtle warmth of his touch.

As I made my way back to my office later, the weight of his request pressed on me, a tightness in my chest as I thought of his squad—my peers, who had once been so full of camaraderie and laughter. What had changed? And more importantly, what did I need to be prepared for?