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He’s introduced to you with little more than, “Akaashi, this is Kozume.”
More, you think, is given away by the faint twitch of his eyebrows at the use of his surname. Despite that, he remains wearily unfazed as he offers you a small bow. “Kenma Kozume - just Kenma is fine.”
He’s a little shorter than you, which makes the odd colouring of his hair even more obvious with his bowed head. It’s the same as all photos you have seen of the mage, and you briefly wonder why someone would go through such efforts to maintain such a style. ( Briefly, because working as part of the Extraterrestrial Colonisation Team has allowed you to see much more bizarre expressions of individuality over the years.)
Turning away from your bench is not easy, especially given that this the the first sample of seedlings that have actually grown in the new media. But you manage, if only to straighten and return the courtesy offered to you.
“Keiji Akaashi.”
Kenma blinks so impassively at your introduction that you almost reconsider it. At the very least, you’re thankful he’s not the kind of person that prefers to shake hands - offering a small respite from attempting to maintain the sterility of your gloves.
“Well, it looks like you two are off to a good start! I’ll leave you to it, shall I?” Your P.I. shoots you both and encouraging grin before making a hasty exit to the safety of their office.
Both you and Kenma watch them leave, only the slightest twitch of annoyance mingled with relief on your part. The new mage may be an anomaly, but the thought of having your P.I. hovering over the two of you whilst you try to decipher him is uncomfortable at best.
Kenma’s piercing - yet somehow blank - gaze drifts back to you. “What are you working on?” He edges closer - just enough to cast a steady glance over the agar plates spread out on your bench. It’s the new variety - the kind that most closely mimics the surface conditions of the planet that your lab is so precariously orbiting above.
Quickly, you consider how best to approach the topic with him. Truly talented mages like Kenma are few and far between, and many do not have nearly enough grounding in science to understand more than the basics on your research.
“The aim of the lab’s research is to optimise the proteins required for survival of the crop plant on the planet’s surface.”
You shoot him a quick glance, but Kenma’s expression gives away nothing. His eyes follow your hand as you gesture towards your plates, where a few seedlings are making a brave attempt at growth.
“We’ve been trying to more highly express the proteins required for cold resistance along with specific vernalisation genes, to match in with the climate,” you continue, slipping into the plural which feels most natural, given the collaborative nature of the work in the lab. “That is, if the plants themselves can even begin to grow in such a harsh environment.” It’s difficult to keep the frustration from bleeding into your voice.
Kenma’s eyes flicker to your face and then back to the plates, before he settles on meeting your eyes again. “May I?” The tilt of his lips is thoughtful as he nods towards the seedlings.
An absurd wash of protectiveness for the tiny plants - your first success with this strain - sweeps over you before you push it aside. After all, this is what the mage is here for - to enhance and quicken positive results, to push your experiments towards success in ways that science cannot.
“Of course.” You step to one side for him.
When Kenma approaches the bench, it’s not at all like you’ve heard. There’s no flash of magic, no distinctive tingle in the air that surrounds him as lets his hands ghost over the air above the seedlings. Nothing about Kenma’s actions or presence would ever lead you to conclude that he was one of the most gifted mages of this era.
“They don’t like the nutrients in the media. There’s something vital missing - if I had to guess, it’s some kind of metal ion.”
You try not to grimace - you’d suspected as much. The photosynthetic proteins won’t work without it, but maybe you can find a workaround. In any case, it’s yet another setback.
“Plants are very temperamental though - even though they complain, they’ll still try their best to survive. They just need a little more encouragement.” Kenma smiles fondly at the seedlings.
The expression is so unexpected that your breath catches in your throat.
Kenma glances at you reflexively, the warmth seeping from his face until he’s back to that maintained level of formality. He seems uncomfortable to have been so open with his emotions, even from such a tiny blip of affection. You consider whether his restraint is due to his profession or personal preference, and realise this is yet another question you will strive to answer.
A small, reciprocal smile blossoms from your lips. “Do you think you could provide the encouragement they need?”
The mage’s eyes glitter, and there’s a light in them, even if the rest of his face gives nothing away. “What did you have in mind?”