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He had no heart.
If he did, it was made of stone or silicon.
There was no person as cold as him, and if his ice ever thawed, there would be nothing left of him but a pile of soggy textbooks.
When Even was younger, those jeers had rolled off of him. If anything, he prized them as the desperate ad hominem protests of the peers he surpassed, but as an apprentice of Ansem the Wise, he’d had more than enough time to ponder their taunts. Beneath his icy surface there was a yawning abyss he too had dismissed as empty, but sure enough, there were discoveries to be made in the depths. Never quite enough, but it was better than nothing.
…That said, there was more pressing work to be done, and navel gazing couldn’t hope to compare. The descent into the basement laboratory brought with it a few degrees of relief, both from the summer heat and from Master Ansem's watchful gaze. The architecture was stark, stern, with a dark checkerboard of tile leading down the hall. Even recognized its influences easily: Xehanort’s penchant for hard angles and grand spaces, Ienzo’s fascination with the pipes that pumped fresh air through the castle like giant blood vessels. That wasn’t to say Aeleus and Dilan hadn’t given their workspace a personal touch: pieces of machinery were littered about like forgotten toys, the final installation postponed yet again in favor of guard duty.
Even understood, of course. But with half of their number standing watch outside the castle, it was easy to feel all the work fall onto his capable (though already loaded) shoulders. Adjusting his workflow to accommodate the other Apprentices had taken time. He wasn’t so eager to conduct his research alone again, but...
A small shuffling sound drew Even's attention behind him. Ready to kick away whatever Heartless had escaped containment, the scientist pulled away with his arms raised, but instead of some once-human monster, it was the youngest of the apprentices staring up at him.
"Ienzo," he breathed, delicately bringing his foot back to the floor. "Where is Master Ansem? You cannot keep running off like this, you're getting yourself into trouble and disrupting our work."
The child didn't seem sorry in the least. He kept his silence, looking directly at the man, either unaware of or unfazed by how close he’d been to certain injury.
“You’d best find your way back to him before he finds his way to us ,” he advised flatly, then turned on his heel and headed to the next door with his head held high. As much as their research flourished with Ienzo’s participation, keeping their Master’s inquisitive nature focused elsewhere was a duty Ansem himself had unknowingly placed on the boy’s shoulders.
Logical as it was, Ienzo had no interest in following Even’s advice. The scientist had a second shadow as he walked now, a pale ghost that came up to his waist. Soft footsteps echoed his. Doors hung open for just a second longer when he passed through, but when he turned to look at the child, he was met with indifference. Clearly, the walls were significantly more engaging. This charade kept up until Even took a step back and nearly tread on the boy a second time today.
Even let out a sharp yelp of surprise as he caught his balance without stomping on the eight-year-old. "What was it, then? Yesterday you refused to move on after taking samples, and now you're following me around the labs like a lost puppy."
Ienzo’s attention was suddenly captured by the long, empty corridor. When they'd first met, Even had been highly insulted by this habit of his. If he was speaking to someone, they'd best be paying attention to the information he was giving them. He was an endless wellspring of knowledge, but he didn’t speak just for the privilege of hearing his own voice. Ienzo tested his patience on the matter daily.
Yes, even when Even knew it was just a diversion from whatever it was Ienzo had come down to tell him. The scientist crossed his arms and looked down at Ienzo, who had nothing to say on the matter. It wasn’t that he expected a verbal answer— After months of unbroken silence, Ienzo wasn’t going to trade his pen and notepad for spoken words. It was the chase and evasion that needled at Even’s composure.
Ienzo chanced a glance up to him, one dull blue eye peering out from a shag of silver hair. It had once been a round bob, parted neatly down the middle so “the world could see [his] pretty face” and other familiar nonsense. Even their philosopher-king Ansem the Wise had needed to be taught precisely why Even and Ienzo’s shared reaction to that phrase had been a mix of repulsion and–
Even’s mind may be able to shift the course of history and change the world as they knew it, but he still managed to overlook the obvious. Where had Ansem intended to bring him today? Who were they meeting? The details of the incident weren’t necessary; clearly someone was in need of correction.
Even threw his hands in the air. “Must I do everything around here?” he yelled to no one in particular. Ienzo let a breath out, exasperated with how long the older man had taken to understand the problem. Communication between the two was tenuous and clumsy– Even had never claimed to understand the needs of a child, but with increasing frequency, he was the only one who could.
Brow furrowed, Even flipped through the pages on his clipboard until he found an empty sheet of paper to sacrifice. Ienzo blinked at the sound of ripping paper, curious what the older scientist was scribbling down. He wouldn’t be kept in suspense long. Even’s pen strokes were broad and simple, far clearer than his usual erudite scrawl. This was going to be read by people who needed basic instruction, after all. Two short words would be enough:
HE / HIM
“This should suffice to correct them,” Even lauded himself, clipping the rudimentary badge under the pen in Ienzo’s breast pocket. The boy immediately removed it. Of course, he wanted to read it himself. His single blue eye scanned over the paper once, twice, before his expression shifted ever so slightly. Pronouns. Simple. After a third read, he met Even’s expectant gaze, holding on to the slip of paper as if it were made of gold. “Even the most inattentive will understand these instructions. If the note is disregarded, it’s willful ignorance on their part, and they’re none of your concern.”
As Ienzo affixed the note to his pocket once more, Even inwardly challenged the world to live up to those words. Ansem the Wise worked tirelessly to bring knowledge and understanding to the people of Radiant Garden. They’d best have learned something. Ienzo wasn’t the first transgender child in the world, after all.
As the boy checked the security of the little note in his pen clip, the renewed gleam in his eye was more than enough thanks for the scientist. He did have a heart, after all. Even’s expression softened slightly– Melted, one might say. The scientist couldn’t always be a shield, but giving Ienzo the words he needed was a start. More than he’d had. Never quite enough, but Ienzo would never drown in a sea of unanswered questions, belittled despairs, or haunting, nameless dysphoria.
“Now. The Master is going to turn the town upside down looking for you. If you don’t mind your responsibility to keep him occupied, our research will be compromised long before— Ienzo!” The boy had already headed off toward the staircase, barely visible for a moment before he’d turned the corner. Even’s lecture on maintaining the clandestinity of their research in the basement laboratory was, once again, completely disregarded.
Maybe one of them learned something , at least. It was better than nothing.