Kisuke ran a polishing cloth over Benihime’s blade again and again, using the repetitive motion to occupy his body while he tried to sort through everything he overheard a few hours ago.

(Courting him?)

(The day before, none of them could stand his presence and yet… Erich and Alexis were going to court him?)

(That was… certainly a change in — heh — tune.)

More concerning was how certain they were that he was Shinigami; whatever had given him away, he needed to fix it before someone else caught on and sold him out. It had been decades since they’d all escaped, but that didn’t mean the Shinigami had given up on executing them all.

(He’d thought his gigai were as close to perfect as they could be.)

(So what had given him away?)

(Surely not just Benihime?)

(Alexis had said his home was ‘very telling’, but what did that mean?)

They weren’t Shinigami, of that he was certain, and the way they had spoken about ‘empowered humans’ was… interesting. Like they didn’t consider themselves part of that category. And implying they had a history with Shinigami…

Well, about the only group of people he could think of that matched that set of criteria was the Quincy.

But… nothing he’d ever read about the Quincy indicated they had access to some strange song-based power.

(So many questions and so few answers.)

(It was almost enough to drive him to distraction.)

“Those look like deep thoughts, Urahara-san,” Ren said as they padded across the porch and casually settled near him, back against a support and one leg dangling over the edge. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, no, everything’s fine,” Kisuke deflected with a small smile. “I’m just a bit restless after sleeping part of the afternoon.”

Ren hummed and Kisuke slanted a look their way, both curious and wary of the chance of more song magic; he’d yet to figure out if there was a way to deflect or resist the power, and the idea that he could just be sent to sleep was… terrifying.

“I’ll tell Erich-san to be more mindful of his singing,” Ren said after a moment, their gaze steady and thoughtful.

Kisuke bit back a grimace, uncertain how much he’d given away and how much Ren had just assumed. Still… “I would have preferred being told instead of tricked,” Kisuke admitted, staring down at Benihime’s gleaming blade and remembering the conversation he overheard. “But… his voice is nice, and I probably did need the rest.”

He’d woken up to mostly-unfamiliar voices and to a body stiff from laying on a porch instead of a futon, but he’d also woken up better rested than he’d been in years.

(‘Chasing away his nightmares’ Erich had been saying as Kisuke’s senses snapped back into focus.)

(That was probably why those few short hours had been so restful…)

“I’ll let him know.” Ren settled back against the support post and glanced aside, out at the lake where only a few swans remained visible in the deepening twilight. “We don’t always think about how outsiders view our abilities, I must admit.”

“Is there anything you can’t do?” Kisuke asked, half-joking and half-serious, flashing Ren a smile when their gaze darted back to him. He really wasn’t expecting much of an answer, given who he was and who he suspected they were, but he was so curious.

“Of course there is,” Ren said with a tiny smile, dark eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re still wounded, aren’t you?”

“I am indeed still wounded,” Kisuke said with a huff, setting the polishing cloth aside in order to carefully sheathe Benihime once more; having felt Erich’s power urging him to sleep, he suspected the man could have easily healed him from the very beginning. Admitting that he suspected as such, however, was entirely different. “But I mean… healing, sending a person to sleep, chasing away the smell of smoke… those seem like fairly disparate abilities,” he needled, wondering how far Ren would let him go.

Ren considered him, letting the silence stretch between them for a long moment before finally inclining their head and saying, “Strength and Will and a song that feels right.”

Kisuke turned that answer over in his mind. The potential that Ren outlined was positively staggering; it implied that given enough strength, a strong enough will and the right song, these people could do anything.

(Frankly, he was astonished Ren gave him such a telling answer.)

Still, it left a lot to the imagination. Did that mean that their ability to do something could change from day to day? Could their songs fail if they lost the will to see a thing through? Could the effects of their songs change based on how they felt about what they were doing?

(He could see why a skill so broad and yet so potentially volatile would be kept a secret.)

“Does that mean I could learn?” he couldn’t resist asking, arching an eyebrow and giving Ren his best boyish smile.

“Can you sing?” Ren asked, arching an eyebrow in return.

“Er…” Kisuke paused, trying to remember if he’d ever attempted to seriously sing something in his life and coming up short. “I have no idea.”

“Then I have no idea,” Ren told him, lips twitching as they spoke.

Kisuke huffed and rolled his eyes, before a sudden thought made him pause. “Wait. Does that mean if someone in your family can’t sing that they can’t learn this?”

“There are ways around that, but it’s certainly harder.” Ren shifted position, crossing their legs and letting their hands settle on their knees, then let their head drop back against the support pillar. “Humming, whistling, or playing an instrument, for example. But if they can’t carry a tune then… for the most part, no.”

Which implied that music itself, not singing in particular, was how the technique worked; add in the requirement for the song to ‘feel right’ — whatever that meant — and it implied that any piece of music could be a vehicle for power. Given that he’d been healed while unconscious, it didn’t seem like there was a requirement for the person to consciously register the song either.

Or… maybe there was?

He didn’t need to know he was being healed in order to be healed, but what about the song for sleep that Erich had cast? Did he need to hear it in order to fall under it’s sway, or was being targeted enough? Kanae hadn’t even yawned, but Uryuu had been out like a light and Kisuke had followed not long after, lulled halfway there by the song Erich had chosen even before the power had hit him.

Did Erich need both components or was the controlled power enough on its own?

(Could he make himself immune to their power by blocking his ability to hear?)

Ren chuckled and Kisuke twitched, shooting them a sheepish smile. “Sorry—”

They waved a hand as if brushing aside his words. “No, don’t apologize. It’s always a pleasure to see someone puzzling through a problem.”

Kisuke couldn’t quite hide his skepticism at their words; no one liked him poking his nose into their secret techniques. Even Tessai and Yoruichi had their limits, had things he wasn’t supposed to investigate—

(Mysterious transformations and forbidden techniques, abilities displayed to him but never explained to him, his curiosity eat-eat-eating at his soul until he finally learned to tune it out, and—)

(These people would just let him puzzle their secrets out without protest?)

Ren smiled at him, calm-peaceful-pleased, and gracefully rose to their feet. “I think you’ll find we’re a bit different from the norm,” they said, something almost gleeful in their tone. “Curiosity and creativity are prized amongst our family. So, by all means, keep working at that puzzle as long as you’d like.”

“I… see.” He didn’t, he really didn’t, and Ren seemed to catch that, because their smile turned a bit sad. “Thank you, Ren-san.”

“Of course. Feel free to ask if you have more questions. It’s time and past for me to be in bed, but you’ll be here for a day or two more. There’s no hurry,” Ren said with a small bow.

“Sleep well, Ren-san,” Kisuke murmured as he inclined his head, mind turning their words over and over again.

“You as well, Urahara-san. Try not to stay up too late.”

Kisuke laughed sheepishly and looked away. “Maa, I’ll try.”

“See that you do,” Ren said warmly, before their presence drifted away from him and a door slid open and then closed again.

He breathed a sigh and tipped his head back to stare up at the first bright stars of night.

(Curiosity and creativity, huh…?)

(Maybe he had a chance after all…)