Wandering the sea of minds around him was like browsing a library, running his finger along the spines until something caught his eye. In the depths of Vendicare, surrounded by 'the world's worst mafia criminals,' it was more like a thrift store, every book worn and overread and ultimately broken. Running his finger along those spines left him feeling dirty, and even if they ending up being interesting, delving into one required letting that filth wash over him, and by the time he was done a useless criminal's mind left a film of something unpleasant over Mukuro's senses.

So it was like a breath of fresh air when he finally stumbled on a mind that didn't fit the status quo. Newly caught by the Vendice, he supposed, as such a unique mind would stand out instantly in this dusty place. Such a unique mind would stand out anywhere, he thought, but maybe he had just been starved of entertainment for too long.

He stepped inside.

He'd never witnessed anything quite like it, had to throw his arm up to shield his eyes immediately but the brightness of it hit him full force anyway. It was painful in a wonderful way, and even in his temporary blindness Mukuro pushed forward, wanting to see what this brightness hid—

If his body hadn't been drugged to a perpetual point of near-sleep, his eyes would have snapped open as he was forced out of the mind he had only just touched. Interesting.

Patience was an important trait for any criminal, and even more so for anyone who intended to enact any kind of long-term plan. Mukuro, in spite of his seeming impatience in everyday life (not that he had one anymore), was a master of the long game. When he wanted something, he got it eventually. It would be true of Tsunayoshi's body, and it was true of this. He would breach that enticing mind, see what was behind that wall of light, understand how a mind could be so bright in the first place.

His second attempt was far different from the first. He didn't expect entry as a given, didn't waltz in as if he owned whoever was attached to that endless white. He pushed lightly, feeling both for weaknesses and simply to try to see. He was delicate but confident, not asking for entry nor taking it, and only after the mind began to feel agitated by his presence did he back off.

It took more of these visits, careful and patient and firm, but with each exploration of the outside he understood better. Understood what was impossible to say, but the what didn't matter. After the fifth visit, he felt something in the mind give way. He would be able to try again now, to enter the mind fully, but he didn't delve in, not yet. He retreated, leaving the mind to wonder where the promised touch had gone.

He waited a full week. It was an agonizing week, yes, he was so very curious of the new, fresh, clean mind, but he knew that if he had done it right, the mind was more curious of him, even if the body had no idea of what was going on in its head.

When he returned, he slipped inside like an old friend.

The blinding light hadn't dissipated, was just as painful, but Mukuro didn't shield his eyes this time. He pushed forward, certain and easy, and finally the brightness faded, slowly, until the sight of it was only a dull ache to his abused eyes. He didn't suppose it would get any closer to a 'normal' mind, and if he wanted to visit this place again he would have to grow used to this constant light. He didn't suppose he minded that too much.

He breathed deep, and relished the taste of the air, clear and bright, before finally viewing the mind in its entirety as he could now see it.

He'd had no idea what to expect behind the white, but it didn't entirely surprise him to see more and more white— this time, in the ground and walls, the palest shade of purple touching the sky above. Stepping forward, Mukuro found himself in a maze of white walls, but as confidently as he continued, he could feel the walls changing around him, with no goal in sight. But it didn't matter. In a mind, there was no goal. There was no end. And this view, this air, this light, even the soft feeling of ground beneath, it was a beautiful mind without a doubt, and he had no qualms about there being no end. He could stroll along these walls for days.

And that was just what he did. The mysterious mind became a place of solace, when the world outside the prison was angering him he would return to that place, run a hand along smooth walls, wander the maze until he had calmed and could return to planning his attacks at peace with himself. It only took a few visits for him to realize that the maze was truly a labyrinth, and it only grew more intricate the longer he wandered.

He did wonder, of course, where the owner of the mind stayed. It was usually easy to find where in a mind one could find direct access to the person, but in his many, many visits, the labyrinth remained empty except for his own soft footprints. He had toyed with the idea of the person being too drugged or damaged by the Vendice to even function in their own mind, but with the way he had been pushed out the first time, it seemed unlikely. A mind that strong didn't just fade out, nor did a faded mind continue to be so beautiful. But he didn't question a good thing, didn't allow his curiosity to ruin the little niche he had made for himself here.

The meeting was sudden, so sudden he hadn't noticed any hint of it when he'd slipped into the mind as usual, a handful of months after first contact. When he entered the labyrinth, he found a set of footprints — his own, he'd been seeing them periodically and though it had put him on alert at first, he had quickly decided that it meant only that he had visited many times. And how could he resist? This mind had become more than just a place for him to go when he needed to calm down, it had become something he wanted, something he thought about while projecting his body through Chrome to do business, something he missed…

When he saw the second set of footprints, his head snapped up, and Mukuro was there: the center of the mind. And he wasn't alone.

Tall, unkempt lilac hair, eyes that just matched the color of the sky here, eyes that focused on Mukuro with a seemingly blank expression that spoke volumes. Mukuro smiled, all hints of his usual confident smirk gone, and when he made to speak he was stopped by a voice answering the question he hadn't yet asked.

"Ghost."

His smile widened as he took in the man he felt he already knew inside and out, admiring the figure that went with the mind, before offering his greeting.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you."