A/N: And lo, I was struck by inspiration from such a simple fan art. This is set in a time of psuedo 1800's. Edwardian Era fashion, electricity and early 19th century inventions, but no distinct year or absolute time. Since this site hates links: sui-sai on tumblr before and after

Vanitas.

That was the name of the skinny, tanned, gold eyed boy. Xehanort tilted his head as he looked the child up and down. His black hair was an absolute mess of spikes and his shirt hung loosely from his shoulders just as much as his baggy pants seemed to just barely fit on his hips. An elderly nun stood beside him, woefully explaining the child's history.

Born in the jungle, raised among natives, and then sold into slavery. He'd escaped and fled before making it to St. Alder's Orphanage. The orphanage sat far away from the city and made it the closest piece of civilization next to an expanse of trees. Xehanort had originally come on an expedition, and a slip in his normally confident gait humbled him.

He had no heir to his fortune, nor any guarantee his research would live on.

"How old is he?"

"Eleven- or at least, that is based from what the good doctor estimated. He's been with us for a year now. We've been so worried that no one would take him in. You see- the older ones, they're seldom well received."

Xehanort hummed.

"Is he attached to any of the others?"

"Ah, well- Vanitas is not very… cooperative with the other children." She cleared her throat. "He is very diligent in his studies though. Almost worryingly so."

"Oh? Can the boy read and write?"

The woman nodded and clasped her hands together.

"Yes, very well. Sister Tresa instructs all the children in reading and writing. However, Vanitas has been so dedicated to learning. We've allowed him to study some of the books in the library on his own."

Xehanort straightened himself slightly, looking down beneath his nose. Vanitas met his gaze then, staring, unblinking. His gold eyes regarded him with curiosity, and caution.

"It seems to me that you're quite eager to get rid of him."

The woman stuttered for a response and Xehanort waved his hand, speaking again.

"This one will do. Let us get started on the paper work."

The chauffeur placed a stool down and assisted Xehanort into the back of the carriage first. Vanitas eyed the man, then Xehanort, following on his own without assistance. He had no possessions, so leaving immediately wasn't an inconvenience. But his newfound caretaker was still a stranger and he tread with caution.

"Boy."

Vanitas' head snapped up.

"You lived among the natives yes? What tribe?"

Xehanort wondered if he would even answer as he was quiet for several moments.

"Unda." He finally said. The carriage rocked with a path of uneven pavement, jostling him. The large shirt had slumped halfway off one shoulder, exposing a bony frame.

"Ah yes, I wasn't aware your people sold slave labor. I suppose it's a good thing your former Masters didn't come looking for you."

"They can't." Vanitas blurted, quickly.

When he didn't elaborate, Xehanort rolled his hand for him to continue.

Wide eyes blinked rapidly then narrowed. Vanitas wrapped thin arms around himself and looked down to the floor of the carriage.

"I made sure they couldn't come after me." At this, his teeth clenched.

Xehanort watched him mumble in his native language angrily. It appeared the boy was going off into his own world, no longer seeing what was around him.

"How tragic." Xehanort pulled a pocket watch from the breast of his tailcoat and hummed. "Your speech is surprisingly clear, for a native."

Putting the watch back, Xehanort snapped his fingers to catch Vanitas' attention.

"I…" Vanitas hunched his small shoulders forward. "They made me learn how."

"Your slavers I suppose. Well, you're still a child; it's the best time to learn language."

Xehanort was different. He didn't regard him with careful sympathy or tiptoe around his past. Vanitas looked him up and down, seeing nothing but wealth and the ideal gentleman.

"It seems I have some molding to do. But first, tell me of your studies."

Vanitas spent several seconds blinking, trying to grasp how he could be so casual.

"They allowed me to read gospels and words of the Lord, but…"

"Go on."

"It's nonsense." He finished quietly, as though hesitant to speak it aloud.

Xehanort nodded and straightened his back against his seat.

"Do not be ashamed. I will arrange a tutor to give you the education you seek and more."

Vanitas didn't respond, choosing to focus out the window and watch whatever caught his eye outside.

The pair became a small spectacle as they entered the hotel. Ladies whispered behind gloved hands and gentlemen raised their eyebrows behind the smoke of their cigars. Xehanort paid them no mind as he hailed someone who had been waiting. The young maid curtsied and Xehanort spoke quietly to her. Vanitas wasn't watching, instead letting his gaze travel across all the shiny surfaces that could hold his reflection. Vanitas knew a rich man when he saw one, but this…

"Come, boy."

With a start, he trailed after his new guardian.

The suite was big and Vanitas awkwardly stood at the door after it had been closed.

Incense burned atop a polished table, making everything smell like some kind of wood and spices. The suite resembled more of an actual house with two couches facing each other, separated by a long table. There were plush seats in every place that could be convenient, and an archway separated another room. Hard wood was covered by a large rug, and paintings hung on display. The room was brightly lit from the four evenly spaced windows displaying a view of the city outside. Looking up, Vanitas eyed the crystal chandelier the size of a watermelon. Everything was so regal, rich in color, and had some semblance of silver or gold embroidery.

Xehanort had taken to sitting down in one of the sofas, cracking his back with a wince and looking to Vanitas.

"Come closer."
Doing as he was told, Vanitas tried not to touch anything. Beside the couch, he inched closer until he was just a foot apart from Xehanort. He didn't meet the man's stare, instead locking eyes with himself on the surface of a silver polished flower vase. He'd never felt so out of place.

Thin, gloved fingers grasped him firmly by the shoulder and Vanitas flinched.

With a gentle shake, they made eye contact.

"There will be none of that in my house I can assure you. From now on you are my son. I expect you to act like it. What you do represents me and I won't have you slouching or staring into space, is that clear?"

Vanitas' eyes threatened to avert to a corner but he squinted and held them still.

"Yes."

Xehanort grinned with his teeth.

"Good."