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2015-02-11
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A Good Memory

Summary:

You don’t have to be the hero to be someone's hero.

Aqua tells Ienzo about a man she once met.

Notes:

Spoilers for the various games, especially Dream Drop Distance.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

There were many things that left Ienzo uncomfortable following his recompletion, almost all of it stemming from the knowledge brought by the Keyblade wielders—the full span of Master Xehanort’s plans, the Organization’s role in said plans, and the depths of which they had all been fooled.

If not for the pangs of guilt that he was becoming increasingly familiar with, he may have drowned in indignation, as the Organization’s former Schemer.

As the Keyblade wielders steeled themselves for the seemingly inevitable battle against the ‘seekers of darkness,’ it fell upon the residents of the restored worlds to assist in their defense. The Heartless remained rampant, and he knew there to be Nobodies that attacked on behalf of the “true” Organization XIII. Radiant Garden was an especially hard hit world, as if Heartless and Nobodies alike knew to focus their attentions on the world that was slowly regaining its lost luster.

Ienzo sat by the trickling streams of what had once been a magnificent court of waterfalls, taking a moment to rest before returning to the castle. Half-dozing on the stone bench, he only shook himself awake when he heard a soft voice from behind him.

"It’s sad to see what’s happened here."

He swiveled his head to look over his shoulder, blinking slowly at the young woman who carefully made her way over to stand by him. Recognition shone in his eyes immediately as he recalled her arrival in the city only a few days ago. “Master Aqua.” He paused briefly before seeking clarification. “The city, or the fountain court?”

She smiled wanly at the acknowledgment of her title, nodding at him before turning her attention to the decimated fountain court. “This place right here. I would look at it and be reminded of my own home. It was a beautiful sight.”

Following Aqua’s gaze for a moment, Ienzo soon wearily lowered his eyes to his clasped hands. “I barely remember its splendor. I was a child when the city fell to the darkness.”

"But you have a memory of it. A good memory. That’s why you’re here."

It wasn’t a question; it was as if she could see right through him, piercing through his outer composure to look upon the tiredness and guilt that surrounded his heart. He kept his eyes focused on his lap, as if his hands were doing something fascinating in their idleness. “I suppose. I remember it better than most places.” The castle and its inner workings were the main exceptions.

"It’s a little secluded," Aqua noted, looking behind her. While there was a path connecting to other parts of the city, the broken fountain court was more a lost attraction with the benches off to one side and the mended path ending just before the staircase. "Did you want to be alone?"

From her tone, it seemed like a belated apology—but Ienzo shook his head, for once wordless in his adult life. Something about Aqua’s presence called out to the child in him who had shrouded himself in silence, discomfiting after years divorced from that child’s heart.

"Self-imposed isolation." He looked up at her when she spoke, brows knitting together in confusion at her sorrow-tinged smile. "You remind me of him, a little bit."

"Him?"

Aqua nodded, stepping away from Ienzo and towards the ruined falls, studying the cracked pool as she spoke. “I met a man sitting alone on the edge of darkness. When I returned to the Realm of Light, I told him that we could go together, but he declined.” She walked to the trickling water at center of the rock face, fingers splayed just above the tiny stream. “He said that I would be the Leaving Light, and him the Darkness in Zero, where the light needs to someday return.” She paused, waving a hand over the water stream. “He has a point, I suppose, but there’s more to it than that. He doesn’t remember much of anything; I think he wrapped himself in darkness to survive, and that was the price.”

Ienzo’s expression was questioning, though he said nothing; he could be polite for others’ long speeches. “He’s a man who remembers very little, who thinks he’s been shunned by the light, who now stands in shadows. He lost his home, his people, and those he cared about to the encroaching darkness.”

Aqua shut her eyes briefly before stepping back to where Ienzo still sat. “He thinks there’s no one waiting for him on this side, but that’s never true.” With a swirl of light and illusions of petals, her Keyblade appeared in her hand, and she raised it to the sky. Ienzo could feel the magic swell from her form, could see how it seemed to coax the water to flow stronger and the earth to mend together.

When she turned to look at Ienzo again, her smile was warm and hopeful. “All he needs is a good memory.”

He slowly averted his gaze from Aqua to the fountain count, staring at the flowing water in silence. He had no way of knowing, but if there was anyone who had been lost to the darkness and not returned…

Ienzo stood up.

* * *

A man sat alone on the edge of darkness, staring out upon a sunless sea. He had no way of knowing how long he had sat there, robed in black to protect him from the worst of the darkness’ bite—but he had at least had a visitor for a short while, to pass the time.

When the door of light had appeared, his visitor had climbed to her feet immediately, ready to step into it and embrace the light. She had offered her hand, smiling with renewed hope—and he had shaken his head slowly, knowing that the light was not calling out to him.

Though the shards of memory he kept did not include his name or home, they did tell him that his name had been tarnished. There was no one there who would think of him with hope, as there apparently was for her.

And yet.

He stood up, crossing the short distance from his rocky perch to the water, where a small glass bottle bobbed in the shallows. With great patience, he waited for it to float closer before scooping it out. Its contents rattled as he pulled out the cork, falling into his waiting hand.

Two wooden sticks, both painted with the word WINNER.

He stared at the little sticks, for a moment quietly puzzled by their significance. He held the two sticks between his fingers, twirled them experimentally, and then held one in each hand.

Almost unconsciously, he bent over and extended his hand, as if offering one of the sticks to an awaiting someone.

When the door of light shone against the gray horizon once more, he knew it was there for him.

Notes:

Thank you for reading. Here's hoping for a happy ending for Ansem the Wise.