III.

He spent another night half-awake, curled under the old covers of his bed. As much as Ienzo tried to rest, and calm himself, his mind would not stop whirring. He could not help but think about Demyx's panic attack in relation to his own anxiety. To know he was not alone was a comfort, but a cold one, at that. Demyx did not shield his emotions or thoughts the way the others did, and while Zexion had found this grating, Ienzo did not. He was growing tired of the facades, he realized.

When dawn finally came he went through his usual routine of bathing and dressing, and sat to eat. Normally during his morning meals he tried to brush up on his studies, because the last frantic weeks of Zexion's life in the castle had left him too busy drawing up tactics and manipulating Riku. He was actually reading a rather fascinating text on the neuroscience behind autism, and as Ienzo had long suspected he was on some part of the spectrum, it helped him understand himself better.

This morning was different. Instead, he checked the posts on the gummiphone. Originally he'd intended the photo posting program to focus as a way to share data and reconnaissance, but quickly it had been claimed by scenic photos, silly self-portraits, and inexplicably (though, he had to admit, compellingly) photos of food. There hadn't been new posts in a long time, so he checked them.

Little Chef's food. A picture of Xion and Naminé by the ocean in Destiny Islands. Terra and Ven sparring playfully. Aqua relaxing with a spellcasting book. (Ienzo did miss magic dearly.)

Sora, with a young woman with an incredible amount of blonde hair. Sora, posing with a lucky emblem. An unflattering photo of Donald. Goofy and Sora flexing their muscles with Hercules. Sora, with his arm around Kairi, and the caption, keybuddies! So proud of her for completing her training.

Looking at the posts was no longer so appealing. Ienzo again felt that ache in his chest, and found himself blinking a little too rapidly. This was grief, he realized, at least a shade of it. He hadn't let himself fully process what Sora's disappearance and Kairi's death meant. He'd enjoyed helping Sora, and the others. And while they weren't friends, exactly, it was hard not to feel something about such a bright light being extinguished.

Aeleus entered the kitchen. "Ienzo," he said by way of greeting.

Ienzo put his gummiphone away. "Aeleus. Good morning."

He got himself some tea and sat across from Ienzo at the small table. "Things have settled in town," Aeleus said.

Of all his bonds with the other apprentices, his relationship with Aeleus had perhaps changed the least. They'd remained close in the Organization, especially when Zexion was still small. Lexaeus had often accompanied him on missions, defending him before he was powerful and strong enough to go out on his own. "It has, hasn't it?"

"We scarcely seem to need to keep a patrol. Nobody comes near. Heartless, neither."

"Perhaps you can get on with your research."

Aeleus shook his head. "My time with that has passed."

"In a way, I envy you. But I wouldn't know what to do with myself."

"You're resourceful. You'd find something."

"...I suppose." He traced the rim of his mug with a finger.

"Something is on your mind," Aeleus said.

"Everyone keeps saying that," Ienzo said. "I must be doing a poor job of controlling my expression. I couldn't help but think of Sora. And his poor, poor friend Kairi."

"Xehanort's death had a price."

"An incredibly expensive one," Ienzo said sourly. "All this chaos for one man-and it's not even over."

"Such is the way, when you tie yourself so heavily to fate."

"I don't believe in fate," Ienzo said. "I'm surprised you do."

Aeleus shrugged. "After all I've seen? It's hard not to believe."

"...Things have come together a little too neatly," Ienzo conceded. "That's the power of the will. As Ansem would say." He stood. "I need to go to the library before I continue my work. I'll see you later, I'm sure."

"Yes," Aeleus said.

The various libraries in the castle had always been refuges for Ienzo, but the main library was especially of note, with the massive collections from other worlds, as well as ancient artifacts from Radiant Garden's own history. Most seemed to have survived the fall, in their sturdy shadow cases. The chairs here were also the most comfortable, and this library had the most light. It seemed to be least hit by the overall decay of the castle, though everything needed a good cleaning. As he picked up titles he thought might be helpful, he wiped his dusty palms on his jacket, and it became quite dingy.

To his surprise, as he passed the history section on the way to the lab, he saw Demyx feverishly scanning the titles. "What is it you're looking for in here?" he asked.

Demyx looked up suddenly, like he was coming out of a daydream. "I was trying to find something about the age of fairy tales. I want to know more about that time."

Ienzo frowned. He'd figured that Demyx would have been after music theory or something cultural, not that. "That sort of thing is oral history," he said. "There are very, very few printed volumes that survive from that time. Ansem may be a collector of rare books, but even he could never get his hands on something like that. Why is it you ask?" Ienzo himself knew very little aside from the old stories everyone had been told as a child. Of course he was aware that some of these legends had played into Xehanort's plan, but if that were the case, why on earth was Demyx looking into it? His eyes were still very much teal, no trace of gold. Ienzo hadn't had any reason to distrust him before now. He realized he didn't want to be wary of Demyx.

He laughed a little. "I was just bored, is all. Wanted to know more about what I just got myself out of."

He nodded. That much made sense. "It's unfortunate, but a lot of history from that time is just… lost and shadowed in legend. Perhaps that's why Xehanort was trying to recreate the Keyblade war. Perhaps he wanted to understand it for himself."

"Maybe," he said. He looked disappointed.

Ienzo shifted the books in his arms slightly. "Ansem might know more. He studied quite a bit of mythology when he began his experiments. I could ask him for you. I admit, I've never seen you become intellectually involved in anything."

A hint of pink crept into his cheeks. "I just want to know."

Ienzo frowned. "Are you quite alright?"

"Yeah. I mean, no. I'm just…" Demyx exhaled. "Trying to figure things out. And I have no idea where to start. I don't even have my sitar. I don't really have much of anything. And I'm not meant to be here."

Ienzo blinked. He couldn't help but feel a tad suspicious. "Not… meant…?"

"Face it. I'm just here because you are all too nice to get rid of me. None of you even like me. I don't share a past with you, and I'm not a scientist." An injured edge crept into Demyx's voice, but Ienzo couldn't help but feel a bit relieved. So that was the matter, not some… plan that got derailed. How paranoid of him to even think that.

"Do you really judge your own worth using others' opinions?" He asked. He could recall-quite vividly-times he had overheard people telling Demyx off, the harshness of their voices. Zexion had occasionally been part of it too, though more subtly. His backhanded comments has always seemed to roll off of Demyx. There were too many to count, really. And considering Demyx'd also joined the Organization in his formative years, of course that was having an effect on his psyche.

He looked down. "Of course I do. How can you not?"

Ienzo couldn't help but feel sorry for him. The feeling sat oddly in his breast. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you haven't felt welcome."

His eyes were glassy. He was more upset than Ienzo had thought. He didn't know how to comfort him and started to feel nervous. It would not be good for one of them to be unstable. "I have nowhere else to go," Demyx said, and then, evasively, "I didn't mean to dump this on you."

"It doesn't bother me," Ienzo said quickly.

"It's okay. You don't have to lie. I'm not your problem." He tried to smile, and Ienzo could see how much energy it took. "I'll let you get back to your work."

Ienzo again watched him walk away, unable to find anything of value to say to fix it. He wanted so badly to be a good person, but how could he do so when he couldn't even provide anyone else with the slightest comfort? He held his books still tighter. Maybe there was something he could do.

He did not go immediately to the lab. He went, instead, back to Ansem's quarters and knocked.

"Come in," Ansem said. He was at his writing desk, composing what seemed to be a letter. "Oh, hello, Ienzo. What is it you've got there?"

"Books irrelevant to the matter at hand," he said. "Can you give me a general summary of what you know of the age of fairy tales?"

He set down his pen. "Of course I can, but why do you ask? Do you think this could help with Sora?"

"Perhaps, but also… well, Demyx asked me, and I became aware of the gaps in my own knowledge." He set down the books he had and moved closer to Ansem. He was losing strength; even carrying those few volumes, his arms felt tight.

"I wonder why," Ansem said, with an edge of suspicion.

"I was a little dubious too, but I do not think there's anything uncouth about it. To be fair, Xehanort did rely heavily on legends."

"Yes, that's right. No doubt the resonances of being a vessel have left him shaken. I'm afraid I don't have any texts, but I do have a few volumes of fairy tales themselves in the study. You're free to take a look, but be careful with them. They're quite old."

"Yes, Master. I know. Thank you."

"And let me know if you need my assistance in the lab. I've been catching up on my letter writing, but I could use a break." He smiled kindly.

"Yes. Of course."

The study was really just code for yet another library, albeit full of Ansem's most heavily curated texts, as well as many of the ones he'd written himself. Ienzo scanned over the familiar titles until he found what he was looking for. The children's books were bound in blue linen with a silver embossing, with clear plastic wrapping to protect them. He sat on the floor and scanned the pages. The memory came unbidden-

Sitting as a little boy in Ansem's lap in the rocking chair by the window, listening to him read these very same stories in that low, soothing voice, feeling him gently stroke Ienzo's hair and a sense of everything being alright in the world-

For a moment he had to shut the book and bit down hard on the emotion welling within him. There was no word for it other than bittersweet . He was grown now, and should not want childish things. He wanted Ansem's respect again, to truly feel it. He wanted to feel as safe and, yes, as loved.

These thoughts are not productive.

He continued to scan through the volumes, but found nothing that satisfied him. They were all fictionalized parables, meant to teach lessons to children about being selfless and not trusting strangers. Nothing about the Keyblade war in these volumes. Was one missing?

Ienzo sighed and began replacing the books. A faint breeze caught a vein of dust, and he coughed, momentarily thrown off balance. It was only for this reason that he found himself looking at the now-empty bottom shelf. A sheaf of papers was lodged between the upper shelf and the bookcase's back wall. Ienzo gently pulled the shelf forward, cursing his physical weakness. The sheaf fell with a faint crinkle. He pulled it out and hastily replaced the children's books.

How peculiar.

The paper was clearly very, very old; the only reason it hadn't deteriorated entirely was because it was a sort of linen hybrid. The text on the title page was not written in his language, but runes that predated the World's current written alphabet. His breath caught on a little thrill of excitement. Possibly Ansem didn't even know it was here; it could have been left by one of his predecessors.

This would obviously require translation. He wouldn't be able to understand it now. Still, Ienzo could not help but crack open the first page, lifting it as delicately as possible.

There was text. A lot of it. But more than that there was music. Staff paper had been hand-penciled in, if the slight wobbles of the otherwise straight lines meant anything. Ienzo knew the gist of reading music-Ansem had taught it to him, aware of how it improved math skills-but this was beyond his comprehension. Notes cluttered the page, swooping in complicated trills.

There were more runes written under all this, functioning as a lyrical line. Ienzo had few characters fully memorized, but one pair caught his eye.

Keyblade.

Another little thrill of excitement went through him. How convenient-how coincidental-it was that the only person in this castle who wasn't a scientist was a master musician.

He had an idea.

Demyx was in the kitchen, listlessly picking at a bowl of old soup.

Ienzo approached him. "There you are. I was hoping I'd see you around. I asked Ansem about the age of fairy tales. He doesn't have any texts, but after some digging, I found this. He doesn't know I took it from his library. He's been… somewhat unobservant lately."

Demyx looked at the papers, a puzzled expression on his face. "What is it?"

Despite himself, he was feeling real eagerness to discover what was in this project. It was rare, perhaps one of a kind. "I only saw the first page, so I'm not quite certain. Perhaps we may look at it together. Come to think of it, somebody should create some record of that time. We can't repeat history a third time."

"I smell a new project for you," Demyx said. There was a guarded cautiousness to the way he spoke.

He sat down. "Yes. Perhaps. When I am done helping Ansem."

"What is Ansem doing?"

Ienzo realized he was referring to the project as Ansem's, even though it was his idea. He had to stop doing that. "He's trying to help Sora."

Demyx flinched a little. Ienzo remembered that it was Sora who took his Nobody down, and felt awkward. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's vanished. He overstretched his power… and disappeared from this world entirely. Ansem is hoping that something in our old research might help the guardians of light find him. I am not so sure. You can only meddle with the forces in this world so much before there are natural, irreversible consequences. The guardians are… naturally quite cut up about it. He and I had formed something of a rapport as well. As much as I wish for him to be whole… I don't want to give myself false hope."

Demyx seemed unsure of how to react. "Whoa."

An understatement. "There's never a moment wasted in researching," Ienzo said. "For all I know, there's some clue in these papers. And I think you can help me."

He raised an eyebrow. "Me? What happened to "I've never seen you intellectually interested in anything?""

Now that he was hearing it out loud, he realized that Demyx had heard that phrase as an insult, and he felt bad. Maybe this would make it up to him. "Have a look." He pushed the score towards him and opened the first age. "While my scientific education has been excellent, admittedly it is somewhat lacking in the arts. I only have the most basic skills when it comes to music theory. This… seems more up your alley."

Demyx's eyes widened a little. He touched the papers gently, almost with a sort of reverence. Ienzo noticed with relief that the fear in his eyes had subsided a little. He gestured to the lyrical line.

"They're ancient runes. I've studied them a little. But I recognize the characters for "Keyblade", and they're in there," Ienzo explained.

Demyx kept reading. There was an intensity, a focus in his gaze that Ienzo had never seen before.

"I need an instrument," he said. "It's too complex to sing."

"There's an old piano in Ansem's quarters. We can have Aeleus and Dilan move it to an empty study space. I'm sure it'll need tuning."

"I can do that." He nodded, a small smile growing on his face. "I'm in."

Ienzo couldn't help but smile back.