DISSECO.

“ look, kisuke! i brought you these! this one… suspiciously enough looks like your hat. strange, huh? ”

          "aaah ... quite!" he chimes; enthusiasm falling somewhat flat while he's busily attempting to categorize this curiosity in thought. no doubt he's seen it before ( ... but it couldn't be? ) no, no; they must've continued its development in his absence and had perhaps dumped the dysfunctional prototypes in unsuitable places by mistake. "... quite strange! and you're fine holding it just like that? are you certain? ... how intriguing."

       what an end to meet; buried underneath a mass of unfinished gigai which, through a chain of unfortunate events, had gained half-sentience while being less than half-hardened. a malfunction is the only explanation—but the knowledge serves him little when sticky bodies flock to their creator like chicks to a mother hen. the distance he's covered so far across cold linoleum floor warrants no award. the compounds meant to undo his eerie friends is no less out of reach.

     "no, no, no. wait, wait, wait—— h-hirako-san?"

Renji: What do they want?

Urahara: To make fun of you, I think.

Renji: And you let them in?

       one reflex short of dropping the solder, ignited-end-down, onto the fragile construction on his desk; he would thank the gods for allowing him to escape a fate where a month's work was in imminent danger if not for the fact that one of them had been the catalyst. as is, he steadies his hand quietly, then turns while emitting a breath held a split-second too long. it almost comes out a short, ( desperate ) laugh.

the missed opportunity

this one comes with a pang. it is the wrinkled brow of something unpleasant sinking in. they've left to find some new adventure. or they've met someone else. and you have only just begun to understand their true importance to you. you watch them drift toward a future without you, and in that stark numbness of their absence, it hits you. Oh. oh, you want them close. you hopelessly, selfishly want them all to yourself. you'll support them no matter what, but you don't want them to want a future that doesn't involve you. you want them to read the near-invisible signs of your love and decide to take a chance on you. you never want to say that you *used* to know each other. so what are you going to do?

tagged by: sweet @kageoni.

last song: ansu - wach auf. currently reading: should be reading various essays on identity formation. AM reading a book on how to care for succulents if you’re a fuckin idiot. currently watching: binge-watching way of the househusband for the 15th time in a row (i am not exaggerating). last movie: might’ve been ‘soul’ or the animal crossing movie idr since either has been a while :(

            from his seated position, with both hands settled upon his knees he surveys kisuke’s gambol keenly. the way he carries himself feels somewhat mischievous, concealing a hidden intent. and his assumption is only confirmed when the shopkeeper ever so noncommittally seizes the empty box abandoned in some corner of the store. kyoraku tries to stifle a laugh, but he can’t help himself when he hears kisuke’s suggestion. with projected ease, kisuke demonstratively spins the item in question, as if advertising some premium element that would certainly increase one’s quality of life. ‘ adorn it with a few of your trinkets, or maybe some stickers, and i might actually consider buying it, ’ he jests, although there’s a tinge of truth in his proposal. 

a palm comes to aid the scratch at the back of his head that’s been pestering him so. after a while, kyoraku considers feigning distress, offering a pained grin and a defeated huff. he rises, lifted from his lax pose into stand, closing the distance between the two of them with a few hopped steps. he makes sure their eyes meet, a battle of gazes subtly commencing. his left palm is placed upon the cardboard box, grasping the margin and faintly pulling it in his direction. the right one is resting on the opposite part, near kisuke’s left, their fingers meeting in a projected accident. ‘ fine, your point was proven, ‘ he relents, and contrary to earlier, his tone is more stern, pointed. a momentary pause ensues, instant in which he can’t refrain from bearing the recurring, spurring grin. before he speaks again, a brow is lifted. ‘ so? how much? ‘

           “... ... ...” needless to say he mirrors the stare—albeit not necessarily for sake of a goggling-contest. the other man’s fraudulent display of dramatics is not lost on him—yet he cannot help but feel as though even this cube-shaped piece of hardened paper may indeed change ownership should he dare challenge the sincerity of his interest. ( it is palpable for certain; in a moment of tentativeness, he feels his own grip 'round the box tighten underneath that of his visitor’s ). “no, no, no. were you just listening to me, kyoraku-san? this little thing doesn’t exactly have ‘pandora’ written on it. even if i won’t take any responsibility for careless purchases on my customers’ behalf, there’s still a limit to the amount of unethical sales strategies this store can tolerate.”

                ‘ overqualified? i wouldn’t say. ’ kisuke’s remark concerning his capacity for working prompts a befuddled laughter. the mention of developing means to store energies has him perplexed at first. for what purpose would a man such as kisuke require such contraption? he could potentially list a few motives, however he refuses to give it any more thought. craning his head to either side, he watches the door intently. engrossed by whatever mysteries reside beneath the door, he gets up uncharacteristically swift, grabbing kisuke’s arm in one fell swoop. 

                ‘ i think i’d like to see! ’ he declares, his voice brimming with enthusiasm, tone similar to that of a child seeing an amusement park for the first time. there’s a content smile on his face, the curiosity intensifying with each passing moment. kyoraku paces in the door’s direction ( kisuke following in his wake, dragged by the arm perhaps a tad too recklessly ), the shimmering flashes almost making him tremble with anticipation. his eyebrows rise, his gaze pleading. 

               ‘ come on, kisuke, you know i don’t like to be kept waiting… ’

                  “excuse m—?!” sentence is cut short by unexpected fervor that unsettles his balance just enough for him to be swayed towards the door with relative ease before he at last recognizes the other man’s enthusiasm as potential health hazard. it takes but a quick step to remedy such immediate risks however; he slides his body in between doorframe and over-zealous shinigami, lifting his unclaimed hand in an attempt to appease. “k-kyoraku-san— under no circumstances do i recommend opening that door while energy transferals are still ongoing. it’d be unsafe in a multitude of ways.” for this building, for those in his nearest environment, for himself, and perhaps also for the stability of various dimensional rifts that tied this world to others ( the possibility for the latter of which he regarded more with curiosity than concern, however ).

               in a way, he finds it amusing, the way kisuke feigns unawareness, thinking that one could not read beyond this facade of playful ignorance. a game two could play, he thinks, right before being bombarded by yet another array of information concerning anything but the current situation. instead of taking part in a wicked game out of which he would most certainly come out bruised, and perhaps even defeated, he merely offers what appears to be a crooked grin and a tinge of unserious laughter. ‘ do you plan to use it in battle? there must be some gimmick to it, i’m sure. after all, it was you who conceived it. ’

              a part of him has been scrutinizing, checking and testing to see if perhaps a part of his unbridled emotion reached the other in any shape or form. he took notice of the abrupt backpedaling: of how, when kisuke feels distraught or agitated in any way, he tends to cloak his features if ever so lightly. and he did the exact same previously. so far, it’s been unintentional, the playful banter meaning naught but good fun, however within him seems to have grown a more profound feeling. preoccupied out of his mind with this particular introspection, he almost forgets they’re discussing aspects more… grounded. he returns to his body fully with a subtle twitch of his eyebrows. ‘ you’ve got your way with words. you could even make an empty box look interesting. some innate shopkeeper talent, that is. ’

          “heavens no!” fair is fair; if there was another large scale battle to be expected just around the corner he’d certainly come prepared—but his scientific expertise stretches far beyond weaponry ( and, perhaps shockingly enough, so do his personal interests ). “she’s such a sensitive girl——a battle would only distress her unnecessarily. we’re quite alike in that regard.” he suppresses a chuckle; settles instead for a knowing smile which denotes the vague presence of an inside joke of sorts before his voice recedes to a no less amused mumble: “you’d think situational immortality and a tracking function is gimmick enough. such a high-minded world we live in.”