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“So you don’t need any help, then?”
Xion watched Ienzo levitate another book onto the shelf above their heads, magically parting the row already there and sliding the newcomer into place. He held a large stack of books against his side with one hand, and several piles more surrounded him on all sides, knee-high, as if he’d tried to brick himself in but given up halfway through the job. Xion ducked as he floated another book past her head, though it had been well out of danger of hitting her.
“No,” Ienzo said, “I have this well in hand. But thank you for the offer.” He shelved a book manually, at eye level. “I’m surprised. You Keyblade wielders get one day off from training and suddenly none of you know what to do with yourselves.”
“Roxas and Lea and I are having ice cream later,” Xion said at once. “But I didn’t have anything else planned, so I thought, if you needed help with anything...”
“I’m afraid I don’t. Perhaps if you were taller.”
He laughed at her expression, amused but not maliciously so. Still, he indicated one of the books on a pile near her, and she handed it to him, watching him nestle it in place between two others that obviously all belonged to a set.
“It seems like you’re always in here,” Xion said, craning her neck to try and peer at the topmost row of shelves. She took a step backwards to see better, careful not to trip over any of the stray piles. “What are all of these, anyway? Is all of this your research?”
“No, we don’t keep any of that here. This is just the main library. The castle’s accumulated this collection over many years.” Ienzo set a few books sideways onto an empty shelf behind him, the better to get at one nearer the bottom of the stack he carried. “And if I weren’t organizing this place, I’m not sure who else would. If you think it’s a mess now, you should have seen it when we first recompleted. Finding anything was a chore.”
He set a particularly large book down with a thud that echoed along the aisle, the disturbance producing a puff of dust that sent motes swirling through the columns of sunlight coming through the stained glass windows on the second level above them. Xion sneezed into her sleeve, and Ienzo brushed dust from the front of his sweater vest.
“So then—you’ve sorted this whole library by yourself?”
“Mm, more or less. Aeleus has helped.”
He levitated another book into place above them, deftly but with care, and Xion looked impressed as she turned in place, taking stock of the cavernous old library, or what she could see of it beyond the high shelves around her.
“You really like books, huh?”
“That I do.”
“What about Dad? I’ve never seen him reading.”
The question gave Ienzo pause, though as he was facing away from Xion, she did not see his grimace, nor his conscious dismissal of it. He continued shelving briskly, not bothering to correct her choice of words while she pulled out a tome at random and skimmed it.
“Even’s not one for any sort of fiction,” Ienzo told her. “He finds it ‘pointless,’ in his own words. For a genius, he can be very small-minded at times.” He watched her leaf through whatever she’d found. “Hopefully that’s not an attitude he instilled in you?”
“I don’t think so.” Xion eased the book back in place, evidently not having understood its contents. “I mean...I don’t have anything against reading.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.” The long side of Ienzo’s hair swayed as he tilted his head, and unconsciously a hand went to his chin, intrigued. “In which case, what sort of things do you like? We might have something here you'd be interested in.”
“Me? Um.” Her brow knitted. “I’m not really sure, I guess.”
“You don’t have a favorite genre?”
“Genre?”
“A particular type of work. Mystery, say, or fantasy. Or a certain subject you’re interested in learning about.”
“Well, actually...” Xion tilted her head, the better to read the title of a nearby book stamped on its spine in silver lettering. “I’ve never read anything before. So I don't know what I like. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
The topmost book of the stack in Ienzo’s arms slipped and fell to the floor. Xion bent for it at once, and in so doing missed the look of existential horror that glazed Ienzo’s blue eyes over. He recovered himself as she straightened, clutching the fallen book in both hands.
“Thank you, Xion.” Ienzo sent it soaring away, and it slid into its proper place above their heads. “But—you’ve never read a book before? Of any kind? I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, in the Organization, there wasn’t really…” She looked to the floor guiltily, mistaking his surprise for disapproval. “There weren't any books around, I guess. And I never went looking. I never really thought about it...”
Ienzo finished shelving the handful of books in his arms. Instead of reaching for more, he paused and took stock of the job he’d already done, then skirted the stacks piled around him, piquing Xion’s interest.
“Well, fortunately,” he said, “there’s a simple solution to that. If only all the problems we’re facing lately were so easy…” He turned, his lab coat swishing. “Wait here for a moment.”
He strode up the aisle, Xion looking after him as he disappeared around a corner, and soon she disobeyed his order, catching up to find him perusing a remote section of the shelves that looked especially tidy, as though it had been one of the first to be cataloged and sorted. She hovered at his elbow with mounting curiosity as he ran a hand down each row of spines in turn, occasionally stopping to debate with himself in low, thoughtful tones.
“What are you looking for, Ienzo?” she asked, scanning the shelves with her head tilted to more easily read their titles.
“Something for you to read. Your first book should be special, after all.”
“Really?”
She brightened, and Ienzo unconsciously made more of a show out of his search, sometimes pulling out a book a few inches before changing his mind and reshelving it, musing to himself as he considered the many possibilities.
“How about…Ah. Yes.” He picked an unintimidating but neatly-bound volume that looked as if it had once had a dust jacket, now gone, its leather cover worn. “This ought to do nicely, I think. Give this a try.”
She accepted it with an amusingly solemn expression, holding it in both hands gingerly, as if it were a bird. The foldout map in the front interested her, but she turned to the first page of the story at Ienzo’s encouragement.
“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit,” she read aloud. “Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.”
She looked up.
“What’s a hobbit?”
Ienzo smiled, smoothing down his necktie with one hand.
“The only way to find out is to keep reading. That’s what the book is for, after all. To tell you a story, or to give you information, and very often both.”
Xion nodded, still looking quite serious, and ran a hand over the book’s cracked leather binding.
“So I can keep this?”
“Yes, until you’re through. Take care of it in the meanwhile.”
Xion thanked him, clutching the book to her chest as Ienzo reordered a few strays at the end of the shelf. She left only when he insisted she go enjoy her gift in peace.
“What’ve you got there, Xion?”
Roxas leaned forward, peering around Lea to watch Xion smooth down the pages of her book, which had started flapping in the breeze. The castle battlements were no clock tower, to be sure, but they’d become the trio’s substitute hangout spot after Roxas and then Xion had come into their own existences in succession. Lea finished the last bite of his ice cream and left the stick hanging out of the corner of his mouth, like a cigarette.
“It’s a book,” said Xion. She held it up as if showing off the title, though as that had presumably been on the missing dust jacket, the book’s blank surface conveyed nothing. “From the castle library. Ienzo let me borrow it, since I’ve never read one before.”
Roxas perked up, intrigued.
“I’ve never read one either. What about you—Lea?” (They’d stopped automatically saying Axel most of the time, but there was still a flicker of hesitation now and then.) “How many books have you read?”
“Ehh...Never been much of a reader.” He plucked his ice cream stick out of his mouth in order to gesture with it. “Besides, who’s got time for that nowadays? There’s a war going on, y’know.”
“Not right this second.” Xion cracked the book open again and ran her finger down the first page, looking for where she’d left off. “And it's not that long. I bet I can finish it before Xehanort shows up.”
Lea rapped the top of her head lightly with his knuckles, making her elbow him.
“Have it your way then, kiddo. What’s this book of yours about, anyway?”
“A hobbit.”
“What’s a hobbit?” asked Roxas.
“I don’t know yet. I have to keep reading.” Xion’s eyes scanned the page, then lit up. “Wait, it says right here. ‘They are (or were) a little people, about half our height, and smaller than the bearded dwarves.’ ”
Lea snorted and rapped Xion’s head again, this time with his ice cream stick.
“Okay, then. Maybe you two half-pints are hobbits, huh?”
Roxas gave Lea a friendly shove, eliciting a conk on the back of the head. Xion joined in, and after tolerating their laughter and teasing for a minute, an exasperated Lea put a hand atop each of their heads, gently but firmly shoving them both into submission.
“Knock it off,” Roxas said, grinning and knocking Lea’s hand away.
“Hey, you started it.”
Roxas looked to Xion, expecting backup, but instead found her adjusting her position to better catch the sunlight, gazing down at the book in her lap with undisguised curiosity, as if it drew her attention like a magnet. Lea made as if to tap her on the head once more, but thought better of it, and Roxas leaned forward again to speak around him.
“How’s the book, Xion?”
She jumped slightly, making Lea laugh.
“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “I haven’t really started on it.” She settled it more neatly in her lap, using the tips of all her fingers to pin the pages down so the wind wouldn't flip them back and forth. “I’ve never read a story before. I’m not really sure what to expect.”
“Well, why don’t you share with the class?” Lea tapped her shoulder with his ice cream stick. “C’mon.”
Roxas agreed, and Xion took up the challenge, moving to sit cross-legged so that she could rest the book more easily against her knees. A breeze stirred her hair and clothes, trying and failing to turn the pages.
“You guys really want to hear?”
“Yeah, sure,” said Roxas, and Lea added, “Fire away.” Xion brightened.
“Okay, then. I guess I should go back to the first sentence…Hang on...”
She set her thumb beneath words to guide herself and began, haltingly, to read aloud.
Ienzo did not stop working until late afternoon, when he’d sorted the entire aisle that had been troubling him most, tipping the balance in the library that much closer towards order instead of chaos. As it was too early for a general dinner, he didn’t expect to find anyone in the kitchenette, but of course Dilan was there, getting started on whatever it was half of them would be eating later. A huge pan of onions sizzled aromatically on the stovetop, and Dilan periodically added other vegetables to them as he finished chopping. He greeted Ienzo wordlessly.
Ienzo took care not to disturb him while fishing about, but once he’d put a sandwich together and had sat down to it, Dilan dumped a pile of diced carrots into the hissing pan and looked up.
“All of that’s your doing, I suppose?” he asked gruffly, jabbing the handle of his knife at the window across the room.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m afraid.”
“That.” Dilan indicated the window again, this time with a jerk of his head. “They’ve been out there all afternoon and more keep coming. Like a flock of pigeons.”
He went back to cubing potatoes. Intrigued, Ienzo finished another few bites of sandwich, then crossed the kitchenette with his plate in one hand, looking out the high, narrow window that overlooked the battlements outside.
Xion sat cross-legged on the stone rampart, the book he’d given her splayed in her lap. On the walkway a few feet below, other Keyblade wielders sat listening to her, their ice cream in varying states of consumption, Roxas and Ventus and Kairi and Sora all clustered in front and Lea towering behind, his shadow falling over them even while sitting as he leaned back on the heels of his hands. Ienzo cracked open the window just enough to catch Xion’s slightly hoarse voice.
“Gollum was disappointed once more; and now he was getting angry—”
Ienzo smiled and closed the window again, latching it before moving away and setting his plate down on the table.
“Yes, that’s my fault,” he said to Dilan, after a few more bites. “But you can’t expect me not to be pleased.”
Dilan muttered and used the flat of his knife to scrape potato chunks into the pan, which belched steam. Ienzo picked up the second half of his sandwich and finished it standing at the window, watching the scene below in wry amusement.
Xion returned to the library the next evening immediately after training, tired and sweaty, bringing the book with her. To Ienzo’s surprise, she had already finished it.
“I stayed up all night,” she admitted, though the bags under her eyes would have made it obvious. “But, um, I actually wanted to ask…”
“What is it?”
“Can I keep it for a while? The thing is...I read some to everyone yesterday, and now Ven wants to see how it ends, too. But I wasn’t sure if that was okay, since I was the one who borrowed it...”
Ienzo set down the pile of books he was carrying onto a table.
“That’s fine, Xion. As long as he takes care with it. It's castle property.”
“Really? Thank you!” She held the book tighter. “I’ll tell him. He’ll be careful with it, I promise.”
Her happiness at such a small favor was oddly infectious, and Ienzo couldn’t help but laugh to himself as he continued sorting through books, keeping half an eye on the way she watched him with reverent curiosity.
She'd been an unknown quantity to him when she'd first reappeared, as he'd spent the entirety of her brief existence being (for all intents and purposes) dead. In meeting her initially he hadn't been sure what to think, but her harmlessness had become evident almost at once, and the more he observed her, the more surprised Ienzo became that Vexen had been the one to bring her to life. She was wholly unlike her creator, sensitive and sweet and strong under the surface, eager to learn, eager to please. Her hunger for answers about herself had quickly drawn her to Even, and through him to Ienzo, though Ienzo himself had done nothing in particular to encourage it. Xion had simply decided that Ienzo was someone to whom she was connected, and after enough interaction, Ienzo had found himself the object of her genuine respect. She looked up to him as something like an older brother, and Ienzo, never having been looked up to before, had gradually come to enjoy it, misguided as the analogy was. She was hard not to like.
“Well, if you’re really that pleased with it," Ienzo told her, "then I suppose I don’t need to ask, but—how was your first book?”
Her face lit up.
“It was great! It felt like I was really there, watching everything happen. I get why you like books now.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
“They’re just like what you do, aren’t they?”
“What do you mean?”
Xion held the book out in front of her, admiring its surface.
“It’s the same kind of magic, isn’t it?” She smoothed down a crinkle on the cover’s worn leather. “When you read, it makes you see and hear things in your head. Like an illusion. That’s the kind of magic you’re best at, isn’t it?”
Ienzo paused in the act of shelving another volume, instead holding it in one hand and regarding it thoughtfully.
“You know...I suppose that’s a fair comparison. Books are a way of casting illusions, in some sense.” He set it aside and watched her turn her own book over, inspecting it lovingly from all angles. “Though not quite the same. Books aren’t magical in and of themselves.”
“It feels like they are, though. It’s like an illusion you can carry around and see anytime, even if you’re not any good at magic. You just start reading, and then...”
She trailed off, her excitement mellowing into concern.
“But why doesn’t Dad like to read books?” she asked at last. “It’s really fun.”
This time she caught the sour expression on Ienzo’s face at her choice of words, but he deliberately brushed it off, not wanting to derail the conversation. Instead he gave a clipped sigh and set another book onto the shelves.
“Why? I don’t know. But he’s stubborn, and I wouldn’t waste your time trying to convince him to change his mind.” Off of her look, he added, “When I was young, I heard more than one lecture about how fiction would rot my brain. I'd advise you to spare yourself the experience.”
Xion looked crestfallen, and clutched the book tight to her chest once more, protectively.
“That seems kind of sad,” she said. “Maybe he just hasn’t found something he likes.”
“Maybe so. But I don’t think it’s a battle worth fighting.”
The last few books he’d been carrying all levitated in different directions, finding their proper places after some shuffling. Ienzo was left nearly empty-handed, and tugged at his cravat out of habit, smoothing down the front with one hand as he tucked the last couple of books under his arm.
“Now then...If you enjoyed that, then there’s plenty else in the library you might like, too. I realize you have training, of course, but if you're interested in reading something else...”
“I am!" Xion said at once. "That is—I mean, if there's more stories like this one?"
"There are."
"Will you show me? Please?"
She had to hurry to keep up with him as he strolled away down the aisle.