Multiverse: Rimuru Template

At 23, Shiro's life ended abruptly—stabbed in an alley, bleeding out before he could even process what was happening. It wasn't dramatic or heroic, just a senseless, ordinary death.

As darkness swallowed him, one last bitter thought surfaced in his mind. 'Dying a virgin sucks.'

That should have been the end.

But it wasn't.

When he opened his eyes again, Shiro wasn't himself anymore. He was reborn as Shiro Gojo, a member of the renowned Gojo Clan from Jujutsu Kaisen. The first five years were uneventful. Without any noticeable talent, he blended in as just another ordinary kid in the clan. But on his fifth birthday, everything shifted.

His past life's memories returned, hitting him like a freight train. Every moment, every regret, every scrap of knowledge—back in vivid detail. But it didn't stop there. Something else stirred within him: a new presence, unfamiliar yet powerful.

Rimuru Tempest's character template.

Before he could process the implications, an overwhelming torrent of magicules surged through his small body. Shiro stumbled, gasping, the raw energy threatening to tear him apart. Yet he kept his cool, sharp instincts kicking in.

"Great Sage," he said firmly, his voice calm despite the chaos. "Absorb the excess magicules and store them. Keep my power hidden—completely."

"Understood. Stabilization in progress."

The energy settled instantly. His breathing steadied, and a smirk tugged at his lips. But Shiro wasn't done.

"Analyze everything—my memories from both lives. Identify anything useful. Create countermeasures against the Six Eyes. And work on finding a way to bypass Infinity without external tools."

"Affirmative."

Shiro exhaled slowly, his smirk widening. He hadn't met Gojo Satoru yet—the so-called strongest sorcerer—despite belonging to the same clan but that didn't mean he couldn't prepare countermeasures in advance. He wasn't trying to pick a fight. Not yet, anyway.

He mulled over the possibilities.

Enemies? Sure, that could happen. Allies? Not a bad option, either.

It didn't matter much to him. He wasn't a saint or heroic archetype, and he wasn't about to play the villain either. Sure, he hated humanity and society with a passion due to having been exposed to their dark side in his past life. But hate alone didn't mean he wanted to destroy everything. That sounds kinda exhausting. He might as well take a nap.

Shiro prefer staying on the sidelines and reaping the benefits.

…

Shiro stood in front of the mirror, a hand resting on his youthful face.

He looked like a miniature Gojo—a striking resemblance. White hair, sharp crystal-blue eyes, and fair, almost translucent skin. Of course, nearly everyone in the clan shared these traits. Still, it was a bit unnerving seeing them on himself.

He tilted his head slightly, then smirked. "Not bad."

The next moment, the reflection shifted. Using [Mimicry], Shiro altered his appearance seamlessly. It was one of the skill's simplest functions but also one of its most versatile. Now, staring back at him wasn't Shiro Gojo, but Rimuru Tempest in human form.

Rimuru's features were striking—otherworldly, even. The long silver-blue hair shimmered faintly, catching the light in a way that felt almost alive. Deep golden eyes gave off a divine aura, contrasting sharply with the soft, youthful lines of the face. Rimuru's appearance bore a resemblance to Shizu, but the subtle differences elevated it to something extraordinary.

Despite inheriting Rimuru's template from before he consumed Shizu, Shiro still ended up with her looks. That quirk always puzzled him, but he wasn't complaining. It was a useful tool.

Shiro let out a low whistle, turning his head left and right. Then, with a thought, the reflection changed again. His past life's face—a nondescript, unremarkable young man—stared back at him.

"Still boring," he muttered, before shifting back to his current body.

Shiro chuckled as he played with the combinations, blending the appearances of his three forms. A tweak here, a fusion there—he could make himself nearly unrecognizable to anyone. If he wanted to, he could even layer subtle changes to remain inconspicuous while keeping key features intact. The potential uses for this ability were limitless, and Shiro's mind churned with possibilities.

The true kicker? He could adjust his apparent age as well. From a child to a teen to a full-grown adult, it was all within his reach. The only limitation was the elderly form—it wasn't unlocked yet. He suspected he'd need to use [Predation] on an old-timer to acquire it.

The thought made him grin, a flicker of mischievous humor lighting up his face.

"What would people think if they saw some old-timer with a cane suddenly pulling off acrobatics?" Shiro mused, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Placing those amusing thoughts aside, Shiro decided to abandon his human form. In a blink, he shifted into his slime form—a small, translucent blob.

Now in this form, his senses sharpened astronomically, far beyond human capability. Every subtle shift in the environment was clear as day, and with 360° perception, not a single detail in his surroundings escaped him.

Shiro let himself bounce lightly on the floor, marveling at the fluidity and precision of his movements.

Knock! Knock!

A sudden knock came from the door. Shiro tensed briefly, then shifted back into his human form. Opening the door, he was met by a tall young woman with a poised demeanor.

She had a fair complexion and a slender frame, accentuated by her elegant, almost regal bearing. Her waist-length white hair, styled with a French braid tied behind her head, framed her striking purple eyes. Her maid outfit was impeccably tailored: a blue sleeveless dress with frilly shoulders and bottoms, a white crop top beneath a blue buttoned waist-corset, and a lace-trimmed apron around her waist. Long, anchor-themed garters dangled on each side, complementing the white stockings, black ribboned pumps, and her maid headdress. White frilled arm gloves peeked from beneath polished metal gauntlets, completing the look.

Shiro froze, stunned.

'Isn't she Belfast from Azur Lane?' he thought, his surprise almost making him lose composure.

In truth, he'd been so preoccupied with his gains and plans for the future that he hadn't really processed just how peculiar his maid was. Belfast not only resembles her anime and game counterpart, but her personality and even her name mirrored the character as well.

Belfast, his personal maid, was an orphan brought into the Gojo Clan to serve and assist its members. For Shiro, she'd been a constant presence.

"It's time to take your meal, young master," Belfast said, her soft yet firm voice snapping him back to reality.

She stepped inside the room without hesitation. Before Shiro could react, Belfast began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Wait, what are you doing?!" Shiro exclaimed, stepping back and shielding himself with his arms. His face flushed with embarrassment.

"Preparing to dress you, young master," Belfast replied, her expression calm, though there was a hint of confusion in her tone. She'd been dressing him every morning since he was a child. To her, this was perfectly routine.

"From now on, you don't need to help me dress!" Shiro said quickly, his voice strained with nervousness.

"Unfortunately, I cannot follow that order, young master," Belfast replied, her tone flat but resolute.

"Why not?" Shiro pressed, exasperated.

"Because it is my duty," she said simply, as if that explained everything.

Shiro groaned inwardly. He wanted to argue, but he knew it would be futile. She'd been doing this since he was small, and while it was humiliating now, he couldn't completely fault her.

Resigned, he let out a sigh. "Fine, just get it over with."

Belfast moved swiftly and efficiently, her movements professional as she dressed him. Despite her calm demeanor, Shiro's face burned with embarrassment the entire time.

Once finished, Shiro avoided her gaze. "I'll eat in my room," he muttered, trying to salvage some dignity.

"As you wish, young master." Belfast nodded, stepped out of the room, and closed the door behind her.

The moment she was gone, Shiro dropped to the floor, groaning. His face was still red with shame. "My dignity…" he muttered miserably.

Meanwhile, as Belfast walked through the sprawling mansion's corridors, a smile tugged at her lips.

'Young master has grown,' she mused, a warm glow of amusement lighting up her face. 'He's finally learning to feel embarrassed. How cute.'

Her smile widened as she headed to the kitchen to fetch his meal.