Later in the prior day, Vanitas had been delivered clothes to sleep in and something to wear for the next day. It didn't compare to Xehanort's tailcoat, vest, scarf and tailor made pants, but it was still impressive. Two handmaids assisted him with getting ready. Early mornings were not a problem for him, but usually his day started with waking up, and going straight to a book. Food was sparse already with all the other children, so he only truly cared about dinner.
Instead, he was given the hottest bath he'd ever taken in a bathroom full of white porcelain. His fight against their experienced hands was for naught.
Vanitas wasn't sure if he should have been irritated when the two maids looked at the tub after it was drained. They struggled with his hair for half an hour, brushing, tying, re-tying, and giving up when his spikes refused to sit down. Only a single small ponytail could be held down in the back.
In the full length of mirror, he looked at himself in his blouse, vest and slacks and never thought clothing could feel so soft on his skin. That feeling lasted seconds before he was quickly hurried off to a dining room within Xehanort's suite. At a square table, Xehanort patiently waited. Vanitas sat across from him and gave a long, confused stare at the dishes before him.
On reflex, he raised his hands in prayer but Xehanort shook his head.
"No need for that boy. What good is it if your heart isn't in it?"
Vanitas hesitated, and looked back down to his plate of meats, bread, eggs, and side dishes of sliced fruit. His brows were furrowed as though he was asked to eat a foreign object. Xehanort had already placed a cloth over himself and begun cutting his sausages. Vanitas tried to go for the eggs before hearing a chastising, "No not yet."
Xehanort tapped the napkin on his chest and Vanitas clumsily tried to emulate. It was slightly crinkled, and not nearly as neat. Embarrassed now, he smoothed it out to his best ability and started at the eggs again. Normally the best utensil he had was a wooden spoon or tin fork. The shining silver tools felt too big and too heavy in his hands, but he tried his best.
If Xehanort was displeased, he said nothing and ate his meal silently. Vanitas got through half of an egg before realizing the meat would be easier to handle. Fumbling as he did, it didn't detract from the taste that flooded his mouth. The textures practically melted in his mouth, the bread was the freshest he'd ever had, and the water was so clean and cold. Not used to eating so much, he'd barely finished half before the food looked less appetizing as he first started.
Xehanort didn't seem concerned and after finishing his own breakfast, he neatly patted his mouth.
"I suppose it can't be helped. I'll have a proper course set when we reach the manor."
The remainder of the day was a rush of movement and confusion for Vanitas.
Their first stop was a tailor. Vanitas was already tired of other people touching him so much and the old woman poked and prodded at him with professional indifference. Different cloths in different colors were pressed against his chest and the side of his face. It had begun to tire him as he was made to stand in awkward positions with his arms up or out as she took notes and had an assistant skitter around for what they demanded.
Despite all the turning and mind whirling action, they left with a single box of clothing the chauffer placed in a trunk space and moved on.
A doctor's office was one of the last placed he'd have expected next.
Vanitas looked away from the man in front of him for the most part. Dr. Luo, the man who initially gave him care apparently had his office within the city. He seemed fond of him, affectionately patting his head and chatting idly with Xehanort. But Vanitas hated everything about the place. Syringes of different sizes were treated as art in a display case, and the diagrams of human anatomy made Vanitas feel like he too would be split in half and looked at.
"I suppose it was fate that you would find possibly the one single child with gold eyes a world away." The man chuckled, shining a bright light into Vanitas' face.
"Yes, quite a curiosity he is. I have high hopes for him."
Vanitas stole a glance to Xehanort only to be instructed to look up and to the side. He'd been asked questions, examined and checked all over for signs of anything that could have been missed while at the orphanage. It was exhausting, and when stepping back into the carriage, Vanitas would have liked to shut both windows and just nap.
Their next destination was a book store.
"You enjoy reading, do you not?" Xehanort asked, as though sensing Vanitas' thoughts.
He nodded.
"You will use your words. Yes, or no?"
"I-yes." Vanitas managed. Heat crept up his neck. He knew how to talk, he just didn't like doing so.
Xehanort began walking forward.
"You'll be putting that skill to use. A tutor can teach you, but there are many things that cannot be taught. The knowledge of books can be interpreted many different ways. Here you will be getting books of your very own to build on that, as well as a journal."
"A... journal?" Vanitas searched for a possible reason to have one.
"I did not become the man I am today by simply leaving all I've learned to memory. I will not read it, but I expect you to do the same."
The sun had trailed most of its journey across the sky by the time they returned to the hotel. Xehanort had his own stops to make along the way and Vanitas already busied himself with the thinnest of the books he was allowed to pick out. Xehanort didn't express displeasure at any of his selections, nor exact approval.
He was halfway done by the time they had walked to the lobby and Xehanort's servants handled all the accumulated baggage.
Vanitas' room was separate from the main suite. The oily mess he'd left had been cleaned spotless in the bathroom. Begrudgingly, he allowed himself to be scrubbed clean again and the maids didn't even try to tame his hair, styling it just as they did in the morning.
Re-dressed for dinner, Vanitas joined Xehanort in the dining room and while he was hungry from such a busy day, he really would have liked to sleep.
The smell of food roused him somewhat from his drowsiness and the bowl of soup filled with chunks of meats and vegetables made his nose flare.
"Dr. Lou suggested a steady diet for now. Soup with all the nutrients." Xehanort's bowl consisted of soup as well, though side dishes of more solid food. "It's unhealthy being that thin, boy. I won't fatten you but I will not have you malnourished. Eat."
Remembering to place the napkin over himself, Vanitas dug in.
Journal Entry 1,
My new guardian, my father I guess, told me to write about the things I learned. I suppose that makes sense, since I wrote what Sister Tresa told us to.
The book I started reading was some sort of journal on light and darkness in people's hearts. I think it was supposed to be like the Word the sisters made us all read. Religion doesn't make a lot of sense to me. My people, the people who sold me. They told me all kinds of things about where we came from and how what we do affects how we die. But when they sold me I
This was supposed to be about my book. I'm running out of space on this page. I guess I learned that you don't need to believe everything people tell you to believe.
