He discovered it by accident.
A part of him felt guilty, intruding on his students personal life without his permission or even knowledge was hardly honourable after all. But he reassured himself that the initial discovery was most certainly an accident.
He had been searching for a textbook the boy was studying, one he had mentioned having trouble with. Angeal as his mentor had naturally taken it as his duty to provide some additional tutelage and needed the book to prepare notes beforehand. The sketchbook had been balanced precariously on the desk; he would have left it undisturbed had an unfortunate jolt not sent it falling to the ground.
It opened on a page at the front and the dark haired SOLDIER was suddenly gazing into a pair of warm brown eyes, shining with laughter and kindness. Black hair framed and petite face tilted at an angle. The woman seemed to peer into his soul.
Under the image delicate cursive script wove its way across the page.
"Always put out what you would like to get back; remember my sweet, a warm smile and a kind word can do more good than you can possibly imagine"
Angeal wasn't sure how he knew but he was certain this was Zack's mother.
She was beautiful.
Not just in appearance, something deeper, something in the way she was drawn seemed to capture her very essence, combined with the words the SOLDIER could tell this woman was beautiful by her very nature.
He felt an inexplicable surge of affection towards both the woman in the drawing and his remarkable student who had no doubt created this work of art.
For all his honour Angeal simply could not resist the urge to turn to the next page, desperate to see more.
If the raven hair, tan skin and loving smile weren't enough to show the gentleman peering out of the page was Zack's father the accompanying text left no room for doubt.
"I steadied you as you took your first steps, caught you when you stumbled. Now you can run, run fast and free all on your own. My greatest joy in life is watching you become more than I raised you to be"
Angeals breath caught in his throat, nearly overwhelmed with emotion. For the first time in years he found himself thinking of his own Father. A man he had never had a chance to know. Would he be proud of the man Angeal had become? Would he look at him like that? With that level of unhampered love?
He wondered what Mr Fair would think of him? Would he approve of the mentor his son was trusting to guide him in this harsh and dangerous environment, so far from the world he had grown up in?
Angeal hoped his students parents would like him because he already knew he would adore them. Maybe he would get a chance to meet them one day? He hoped so.
The next page showed a young woman with light brown hair and green eyes.
She looked sweet. It was really the only word he could think of. Angeal suspected there may have been something a little more than friendship between his student and this young woman, there was a level of detail and care in this drawing that indicated she was held in very high regard.
"Everyone can sing" That decorative curving text declared "Not always well, but everyone can sing, and everyone should if they have music in their hearts"
Angeal could see why Zack liked this woman. She had the same cheerful outlook on life that the young man himself had.
He kept turning the pages, working his way through a village worth of faces. Friends, teachers, neighbours and random acquaintances. All of them beautifully drawn, bursting with personality and each accompanied by a simple quote, some little titbit of opinion or advice they had gifted the young artist with. Something so valued by him that he had taken the time to preserve it here in exquisite detail. To keep with him always.
They came together, painting a picture of the world that had shaped Zackary Fair into the boy Angeal had met all those months ago and chosen from among the multitude of other promising SOLDIER wannabes as the one he would take under his wing.
This unexpected glimpse at Zackary's home life was warming. It was wonderful to know his student had been raised surrounded by such good people.
Tracing his eyes over each lovingly drawn sketch the kind SOLDIER wondered how the boy had managed to capture so much expression with just coloured pencil. It was clear that these images had to have been drawn from memory rather than from any photographic aide, the scenes were too casual, too relaxed to be posed. Zack certainly had a talent.
Angeal wondered why he hadn't known about it until now.
Caught up in learning more about the people who had influenced his protégé growing up, Angeal was probably more surprised than he ought to have been when he turned the next page to find an image of himself smiling up at him.
Although the drawing showed him crouching down, elbows resting lightly on his own thighs for balance the image seemed to dominate the page as though looking down on the viewer. Thinking about it a moment he realised he must have been crouching over Zackary as he lay on the ground. At the bottom of the page the same soft cursive he had read on previous pages sat below the image, the words somehow accentuating the intensity of the expression his drawn self was wearing, a strange mixture of sternness and teasing softened with a slight tilt at the corners of his mouth and a kindness that shone though his eyes.
"Come on now, you can do better than that"
A flash of memory jolted though him at the words, a training session he had had with Zack a few months ago, when they had first begun training together. Although distant he could still remember looking down at his fallen student, the determined look in the teens eyes as he gazed up at him following his light-hearted taunt. He had no idea the moment had been so significant to the boy.
So that's how he sees me.
The realisation was shocking and it was a long while before he could tear his eyes from the image of himself, taking in every detail his student had managed to preserve in this one sketch. His other self looked remarkable; friendly and kind but with a strength and authority which showed clearly in his posture even as he crouched. On his back the Buster sword sat tilted to the side to accommodate for his position so low to the ground, he looked almost regal, a picture of confidence and strength but with a welcoming feel, supportive like he was drawing the viewer forward, wanting them to do be better and telling them with an honest and open expression that he truly believed they could. It took Angeal a moment to realise he found the image inspiring and his breath caught in his throat at the thought. Do I really look like that?
Next to Sephiroth and Genesis he had always seen himself as rather plain and ordinary.
The man in that image was not ordinary.
He was something remarkable, someone to admire and look up to and Angeal found himself choked by the weight of the esteem his student held for him.
He wondered how long it had taken to draw, how long after that session it had been drawn and at what point the boy had decided to draw it at all. Did he know at the time? As he was laying there on the ground? Is that why the image was so detailed? Did he take that moment to remember everything he could, knowing he would be drawing it later? Thinking back Angeal remembered the boy rising almost instantly after he had spoken, bouncing to his feet with that relentless energy he was quickly becoming famous for and continuing the training session with a renewed focus.
He had done better that day.
The pride he felt in that moment was overwhelming and it was all he could do to close the book and return it to its original place in Zacks room, unable to bear looking at any more of those astounding images at this time, unsure his heart could handle it.
Without intending to Angeal found himself in the bathroom, staring into the mirror at his own reflection and trying to reconcile the man in front of him with the one he had seen in that book. It was a difficult exercise and he eventually grew frustrated, beginning to feel arrogant and egotistical for wanting to see himself in such a way. Roughly switching on the cold tap he splashed some water into his face to calm down.
With the rush of cold his frustration ebbed away and the SOLDIER let his mind wander to his student, reminding himself the boy was due back soon. The man grabbed a towel to rub his face dry before stopping dead as he dropped the towel to reveal his reflection in the mirror wearing the same fond smile his image in the book had worn. The same kind sparkle that shone from blue eyes and had nothing to do with mako. It dropped away as soon as he noticed it, replaced by a look of astonishment but there was no denying it had been there.
Angeal knew he was a good man, he had always strived to be as much, and he knew many people admired him as a SOLDIER but he had never really considered himself beyond that. Never imagined that he might be admired by anyone simply for himself. And yet now he had seen himself through his students eyes Angeal realised with a sense of wonder, that he honestly felt proud of himself.