Souji looks at him blankly when he says whatever that word was. It slips right through his mind when Kanji says it, like it was distorted by radio static or simply censored out of the sentence with silence.

"...Yeah, I guess it is." His voice has an underlying hint of alarm to it; though he knew he couldn't say the word in question, he'd never experienced the inability to hear it being said.

He points to the notebook. "Can you write it down? Write down which event it was, too."

It's hopeless, he knows, but he wants to try to read the word. He also just wants a record of it, in case anyone else from home shows up, or so he can show anyone who's trying to research what's going on.