Chapter Text
It all starts on a perfectly normal Tuesday afternoon, which, in retrospect, Ienzo supposes he shouldn't be overly surprised about.
After the war ends, Ienzo suddenly finds himself with far too much downtime. He has no idea what to do with it; truth be told, he finds the idea of leisure time almost distasteful. No, that's not quite true: not having a set task makes him panic and begin questioning himself in a way that sends him spiralling.
He talks with Even, with Aeleus and Dilan, even with Master Ansem; Ienzo thinks he cannot recall a time he has talked more. He had been extraordinarily quiet as a child, and although Zexion could be said to be verbose, he never dithered in conversations, instead proceeding from point A to point B in an orderly fashion. Ienzo rambles now. Talking makes him anxious and that anxiety gives him the urge to speak more to gloss over his nerves. He stammers, too, but this he is less self-conscious over. Even says the stutter occurs because his mouth moves faster than his brain. He also flicked him in the forehead, so perhaps his words should be taken with a grain of salt.
Sometime during all this talking, Ienzo confesses that he feels useless now. Even is back to spearhead the Replica Program, Aeleus and Dilan don't need his help to patrol the Castle, and Master Ansem is busy governing the populace once more. There is nothing he can do for Sora; the Keyblade wielder is beyond his reach.
"Do you know," he says to Even, an empty laugh forcing itself from his lips, "that I cannot cast even a simple Fire spell now? I can feel the magic around me, but I cannot seem to make contact with it. I am weaker than I was as a child."
His adoptive father looks at him, exasperation souring his countenance. "Really? This is what's been troubling you, boy? You can be so foolish at times; had you simply spoken up sooner, I would've told you that that woman with the Restoration Committee offers classes. Aeris, I believe."
"Aerith," Ienzo corrects absently. He's met her on more than occasion--on his quest to prove himself useful (and therefore good, worthy), he'd assisted the group a handful of times. There are no members he particularly dislikes, but the stubbornly cheerful horticulturist is probably the one he'd be most likely to consider a friend. They've grown close during the assignments they've taken on together, and Ienzo is pleasantly surprised when he realizes he feels comfortable around her in a way he doesn't with most of his peer group. Losing his heart as a child and regaining it as an adult makes his social life confusing and stressful; it feels like they all speak a language he doesn't understand. There are unspoken rules Ienzo seems to break, and the fallout is more than he cares to bear--these days, he spends most of his time alone, indoors, with his nose buried in some book or another...or, rarer, he'll take a stroll through the Castle's private gardens (alone).
"Ienzo?" Even looks torn between mild annoyance and soft concern. Ienzo realizes with a start that his father had been speaking this whole time and he hadn't processed a word of it.
"Would you mind saying that one more time? Apologies, Even."
Even scoffs and waves a hand dismissively, mollified. "Very well. Just the one time. I asked if you would go into town and fetch me my order from the apothecary. I would do it myself, but this experiment is time-sensitive--surely you understand?"
Ienzo does, in fact, understand; more than that, he suspects this is Even's way of getting him outside and taking in fresh air. He sullenly admits to himself that it does feel better to walk in the sunshine, with the scent of flowers thick in the air and the excited chatter of townspeople all around him. It's hard to feel dejected when the Square is this lively and Ienzo finds himself drawing closer to the source of all the commotion.
It's Aerith, surrounded by a gaggle of awed children. Her hands are glowing virescently and the blossoms by her feet start dancing to a song only they can hear. The kids laugh at the way the flowers are grooving and Ienzo does, too, although his heart twinges as he's reminded again of just how much he has to relearn.
Aerith whispers something and the buds that haven't opened yet begin to do so--he had never thought to learn green magic and now he finds himself enthralled with it. It would be so useful for medicinal herbs; never again would physicians be reliant on growth seasons.
Even's apothecary order is long-forgotten by the time Ienzo approaches Aerith. There's a smudge of dirt on her cheek and it only makes her eyes look that much greener. He smiles and he doesn't know why.
"Aerith," he begins, then falls silent, pondering his next words. "That was an impressive display."
Aerith only shakes her head and laughs, clear and bell-like. "You haven't seen anything yet, but I'll take the compliment."
Ienzo feels inexplicably like he's done something right as he gazes upon her smiling face. His cheeks heat as he realizes he's been staring. How rude. "That's actually the exact thing I've come to discuss with you. Even informed me that you were holding classes for new spellcasters."
"That's true!" Her hands haven't stopped glowing, still enveloped in that viridescent light. "I'm afraid I don't have any other adult pupils at the moment, so it would strictly be a one-on-one lesson plan."
"That's preferable, actually," Ienzo says, a relieved smile breaking out across his face. "The less people there are to make a fool out of myself in front of, the better."
Aerith comes over to him and places a hand over his cheek. His mind goes blank and he makes a startled noise. She'd touched him. Why? No one ever touches him; Ienzo's skin tingles where her hand had been.
"Sorry." She smiles sheepishly. "It's just...you had a cut on your cheek and it was distracting me. What time are you available for lessons?"
It takes him a moment to find his voice. "Ah...afternoons are preferable, as I alternate between assisting Even and cooking dinner in the evenings."
"Are you not a morning person, Ienzo?"
He barks out a laugh. "You hit the nail on the head, I'm afraid. I can be quite unpleasant before my morning intake of caffeine."
She shrugs, giving him a dimpled smile. "I find it hard to believe anything about you is unpleasant."
"You'll just have to see," he says, surprised by his own boldness. It feels oddly charged in a way their banter hadn't before; Ienzo attributes it to his social awkwardness and breaks eye contact. Relief is palpable when he does.
"I suppose we will, at that. Tomorrow, then, at noon. Is that agreeable?"
Ienzo nods.
"Excellent. You know where my house is." He nods again; Aerith gifts him with another one of those charming laughs and a jaunty wave before making her way elsewhere.
--
Later, he doesn't know how to tell an irate Even that he can't explain how his order had slipped his mind so effortlessly.