Kisuke tosses himself down at the kitchen table and presses his forehead against the cool wood to try and center himself; he hadn’t expected to find the stranger awake when he went to check on the man, and he certainly hadn’t expected to find the man in tears!

He’s going to have to figure out some way to keep tabs on that man, because Kisuke can’t sense a damn thing from him even now, and it makes the back of his neck itch.

“Alright?” Tessai asks in concern.

“Our mystery guest is awake and alert,” Kisuke mumbles into the table, only for Tessai to rap his knuckles against Kisuke’s shoulder in reprimand. “I said,” Kisuke grouses as he pushes himself up enough to glower at Tessai, “that our mystery guest is awake and alert.”

Tessai’s lips thin and his eyes narrow, reiatsu going still-tense-wary at Kisuke’s words. “How alert?”

Kisuke sighs and straightens up, running a hand through his hair as he considers what to say. “He remembers at least something of wherever he came from,” he decides on, thinking back to the words he overheard. “He has emotions, and curiosity, and definitely wanted to get clean after I accidentally caught him crying.”

Tessai’s expression tightens at Kisuke’s words, and he glances warily at the door as if expecting the stranger to appear without notice.

Kisuke honestly can’t blame his old friend for being uncomfortable: soulless bodies aren’t supposed to do anything that Kisuke just said the stranger is doing. It’s one of the most disconcerting experiences Kisuke has ever had in his life, and as curious as he might be about it, it still sends chills down his spine every time he remembers exactly how it felt to try and heal the man.

Silence settles between them for a moment, before Tessai abruptly breaks it to ask, “Does he have a name?” with a touch of dry amusement.

“Maa… would you believe I didn’t think to ask?” Kisuke replies with a sheepish smile, realizing abruptly that neither of them had introduced themselves.

“I would, yes,” Tessai says with a soft huff of laughter. “Did you at least ask if he will want food, or am I going to need to guess about that as well.”

Kisuke rolls his eyes and says, “I did, in fact! He said ‘thank you’ to the offer, so I assume the answer is yes, he’d like some food.”

“Or he’s just being polite,” Tessai says blandly, even as he goes to the fridge to start pulling things out to prepare. “But I suppose I should be polite in turn. Hopefully he likes rice and fish.”

Kisuke gives an agreeable hum, mind already turning back towards the mystery that is their new guest; maybe he can prod Kurosaki-sensei into pulling some strings to get Ishida-sensei to sign off on some tests of the man? He doesn’t dare scan the man with kido to check his health or how his body is designed, but surely there must be something odd going on?

(And maybe they’ll find some clue as to how a soulless body is functioning just fine?)

(Wait, hang on—)

“I can probably get rid of Hougyoku,” Kisuke breathes in realization, then stares up at Tessai in shock. “Tessai— Tessai, if that guy devours anything with reiatsu that reaches out to him— and the orb will— I just have to—” He scrambles to his feet, barely registering the way his chair falls over with a sharp clatter, and bolts from the kitchen. Tessai’s terse words follow him out, but he can’t— now isn’t the time to wait, now is the time to try it!

His kido had been unmade as the void devoured it, he knows it! If the guy does the exact same thing to the Hougyoku, then— then he can finally correct his mistake! He’s tried to destroy the damn thing for decades, tried to undo what he’s done, but nothing ever worked, and now maybe— maybe this time—

Kisuke falls to his knees next to one of his cabinets and hastily yanks a drawer out and reaches into the space, hand reaching in-and-down, fingers clumsily releasing the hidden catch. He digs his fingertips into the small seam that lifts up and flips the lid open, feeling the brush of boredom-curiosity-interest across his senses as he grasps the Hougyoku and pulls it free of its hiding spot.

It glows in his hand, glimmering a cheerful violet-blue as it reaches out, searching for—

Well, he’s not exactly sure what it’s searching for, beyond perhaps something to use its power on; the fact that the thing he created has a touch of sentience about it, a desire-will-intent to it, will never be anything but astonishing, no matter how many mod-souls he’s created. Mod-souls, at least, were intended to be the way they are, but this… this was never meant to be anything but an object.

Kisuke takes a breath and closes his eyes, carefully shoving aside anything that could even potentially draw the Hougyoku’s interest. He just wants to show it to their new guest. Nothing else. Just a bit of showing, a bit of talk, then right back where he keeps it. That’s it.

(Maybe if he thinks it hard enough, he’ll manage to fool it.)

(Best not to tempt fate too much though.)

(Besides, every minute the Hougyoku spends outside of the concealed compartment, the higher the chance that a certain someone might be able to track it down.)

(They’re not ready, none of them are ready, but maybe, just maybe, this could be the chance he’s been looking for!)

Kisuke spends another few moments staring down at the mesmerizing shimmer of color, before he jerks his attention away and shoves himself back to his feet.

(His biggest achievement and his greatest regret, tangled together into one infinity powerful orb small enough to fit in the palm of his hand.)

(Kami, what had he even been thinking back then?)

(Why had this sounded like a brilliant idea?!)

He forces his mind away from that old, well-worn path and focuses back on the present. On carrying the Hougyoku back to the kitchen. On how he’s going to get the mysterious stranger to hold it. On what he’ll do if this doesn’t work—

(No, no it has to work.)

(It has to.)

Only to freeze at the sight of the man — freshly showered and in Kisuke’s clothing — standing next to the table, chatting awkwardly with Tessai. He hadn’t expected the man to be out already. Hadn’t expected to find him looking so put together, despite the clear edge of sorrow still clinging to him like a shroud. Hasn’t yet figured out how to get the man to agree to hold the Hougyoku, a mysterious, glowing orb that probably looks nothing like anything the man has ever seen before—!

The man catches sight of him and turns, damp silver hair snaking across his neck, and says, “Thank you for the loan of the clothing. They fit well enough.”

“A-ah, yes, of course,” Kisuke says awkwardly, bobbing his head in a shallow bow. “I’m sure we can get yours cleaned up soon enough,” he tries, even as the Hougyoku warms in his hands, curiosity-fascination-interest bubbling up as its attention catches on the mysterious man. Holds. Deepens. Stretching invisible tendrils across the gap between them, desire-fascination-wonder taking hold as it heats, reiatsu beginning to swirl—

Kisuke yelps. Fumbles the orb. Calculates his chances and—

“Catch!” he shouts, tossing the orb at the man.

The man starts. Snatches it from the air—

And all hell breaks loose.