#ansxig

Birthday morning. Vanitas struggled to keep his excitement down as he clambered out of his bed; Riku had already left the room, it seemed, and he couldn’t help but be glad that he had. This was Vanitas’s day, after all, and he didn’t need his too talented younger brother hogging up the moment from sunrise to sundown this time too. Ten...finally ten. Double digits. A whole decade. He hastily pulled on his oversized hoodie and jeans, ruffled his hair in place of a comb, and sped into the kitchen, wanting to look cool, calm, collected, just like a preteen should in his head.

He peeked around. Riku had probably already been dropped off to his special before school program, but the sight of Ansem, who usually joined for breakfast, was nowhere to be seen. His other father, Xigbar, was already up and ripping open a new package of sugar, squinting at a measuring cup on the counter with his good eye. The moment he caught sight of Vanitas edging around the corner, he gave a cheerful finger gun and clicked his tongue in greeting.

“Morning, little man. And more of a little man today than ever, right?”

Vanitas rubbed his nose to conceal his grin and slid over to the table, where a small plate of scrambled eggs was waiting for him.

“Morning, Appa. Where’s Dad? Did he already leave?”

“It’s his day off, remember? You already know he’s in the workshop.”

“Oh yeah...I kinda forgot it fell on my birthday this year.” Vanitas looked off to the side, and pouted. “But he’s still not here, so I guess it doesn’t make a difference. Wonder if he’d show up for Riku.”

“Please, the man’s a workaholic no matter what day it is. Anniversaries, birthdays, I dunno...lung transplant surgeries on his grandma? No matter the occasion, he’ll find a way to be busy.”

Xigbar’s rich black hair swayed back and forth as he busied himself whipping up pancake batter: Vanitas’s favorite breakfast, especially when loaded with chocolate chips. The hair and golden eyes: Vanitas had inherited both. Though the eyes also ran on Ansem’s side of the family, deep brown skin and broad nose were the more obvious signifiers of what he had inherited from his other father. Still, he felt closest to Xigbar, whose chaotic sense of humor and wickedly chill attitude (and cool stories about being the governor’s most trusted bodyguard) appealed more to a young boy than the stern, sometimes condescending cool of the respected scientist.

“Dad always looks like he likes Riku more, though. He’s always helping him with his homework and talking with his teacher and stuff.”

Smoke started rising from the pan, and Xigbar cursed under his breath, clearly trying, and failing, to censor himself around the kid.

“Your brother is talented in all the same ways your Pops was. He’s probably just trying to guide him around the same pitfalls he made as a kid,” he said, trying to scrape up the burnt pancake. “People like you and me, we gotta work a little harder, but the pain of being a ‘gifted’ kid is that it hurts more when you fall. I think he’s tryna protect that from happening to your brother.”

He let out a low, disappointed whistle at the burnt mess in his pan, snatched it up, and flung it into the nearby trash bin.

“You’re a genius too, though. The teachers are always talking about how I shouldn’t have any trouble with the material, ‘cuz my dads are some of the smartest people in the city.”

Xigbar let loose a throaty laugh, edging the new pancake side to side to make sure it wasn’t burning.

“Nah. Your Pops? Definitely a genius. No doubting that man’s mind works in ways the average human can’t comprehend. But me? No, I just learn fast.”

With a flick of the wrist, the new pancake sailed through the air and landed expertly into the pan on the other side, as if Xigbar had merely been playing at incompetence earlier. The burnt smell of the earlier pancake slowly gave way to a gentler, breadier scent, and Vanitas found himself melting in his chair, impatient to start shoving stack after stack into his mouth.

“At practice, teacher said Riku was a natural,” he muttered, nudging around eggs with his fork. “I wonder if I can learn so fast that he won’t be able to catch up…Hey!”

His father had bumped the plate out of Vanitas’s path with another plate, sending the first one dangerously close to the edge and catching him completely off guard. The stack of pancakes had been completed faster than he had thought, and each of them was a golden brown that made the first pancake’s failure look even more and more like a freak accident.

“Persistence’ll get you places natural talent couldn’t dream, kid. Think of that as your free Birthday Wisdom.”

“‘Birthday Wisdom’? That’s a thing?”

“It is now. And it’s free! Happy Birthday, isn’t life just great?”

“That better not be my gift.”

“As if,” Xigbar said, and began to slice open a melon, peeling and cutting it into floral shapes with ease. “I’m the cool dad, remember? Check by the TV before you catch the bus, I left you something there.”

Vanitas didn’t answer, but shoved the pancakes into his mouth to avoid showing the growing smile on his face. Xigbar snorted knowingly, and set down the fruit in front of him. Golden eye catching golden eye as Vanitas suddenly piped up.

“I want to switch to somethin’ else. Boxing, or...taekwondo or...maybe Dad could actually teach me some of his science or his bookmaking or something…”

“I know what you’re tryin’ to do here, Van,”

“I mean, at school, all the class already thinks I’m too girly, and that’s without the ballet...because havin’ two dads, and one of them is,”

“Continue with that line of thought and I’ll kick your butt along with the kids who said that crap in the first place,” Xigbar sighed, and plopped into a chair beside him, rubbing his temple.

“But you know what I mean! ...I’ll just...leave it to Riku. He’s prettier, too, so I guess I can’t even compete with him on that...hah.”

“Prettier?” With a frown Xigbar chewed on a piece of melon before continuing. “He’s not, number one, number two, this isn’t a competition. By all means, whoop the other kids’ behinds, but not your baby bro’s. You two should be teaming up to take the other losers down, not turning on each other.”

“You don’t think Dad isn’t constantly comparing us in his lab notes or whatever? Y’know…’subject V has a really big head and a small brain compared to the smaller and more compact subject R’.”

“Alright alright, you got his nerd talk down, I won’t deny that, but trust me, that’s not how he sees you kids.”

“You sure?”

“‘Course I’m sure, every mad scientist needs an assistant, and that’s me.” Xigbar winked as best he could with only one eye, and laughed. “The man is an absolute idiot when it comes to emotional intellect, but he does know well enough to keep the lab in the lab. Kinda.”

“Huh...well...I mean, you shouldn’t say that in front of your kid! Aren’t you supposed to be all, ‘Son, you can’t be mean to your father’ and stuff?”

“I told you, I’m the cool dad,” Xigbar said with a smirk, and sipped at his orange juice. “Anyway...if you’re sure about the switch, and you’re not just doing it because you think you can’t do ballet, I guess I can make it happen. Taekwondo sounds good. The only condition is that you use your newfound powers to try and see if you can take me on in combat later.”

“No problem. You’ll go down easy, old man.”

“We’ll see about that,” Xigbar mused, and slid a slice of cake, hidden somewhere Vanitas hadn’t noticed, in front of him while the kid let out a huff of surprise. “I’m pretty tricky.”

That night, as the brothers sat across from each other in separate beds, Vanitas’s hands curled angrily above his knees, balling his sheets into wrinkled messes. Riku was already nose deep in some beginner’s chapter book, devouring stories of pirates and treasures, risky adventures and fantastic worlds...ideas Vanitas found sickening as he grew older. At some point, he couldn’t even see himself playing hero, couldn’t trick himself into believing the magic fairy dust sprinkled on the page anymore. Riku’s dreams soared higher and higher.

Vanitas believed Riku was the only one who could reach them.

“Hey,” Vanitas said, voice a cacophony against the now shattered silence. “What if Dad’s evil?”

Riku paused, eyes flickering from his page to Vanitas and back again. Then, slowly, he folded the book shut, thumb still marking the page, and laughed. Vanitas’s lips pulled into a disappointed sneer.

“What’s so funny? You don’t think he is?”

“Of course he isn’t,” said Riku, brimming with confidence. “I mean, he can be cranky and stuff, but that isn’t the same thing as being evil.”

“But what about that workshop, huh?” Vanitas pressed forward, physically and verbally, voice dropping dangerously. “He locks himself in there all day, and always with the lights off. He’s using candles! Who still uses candles?”

“That’s evil?”

“‘Course it is.” Vanitas huffed, and his golden eyes burned with challenge. Cry, idiot, he thought to himself. Be weak already. Be scared. “Maybe the reason he spends all his time with you is because he wants to size you up and feed you to the dog and make a clone. I bet he doesn’t really love you at all!”

The last word was a shout. Riku’s breath hitched, body locked tight, and Vanitas thought, at last, all those barbs and jabs had landed a significant blow.

But when he locked eyes with Riku, he felt his stomach clench. Riku shone with preternatural wisdom, beautiful, ocean blue, almond shaped eyes narrowing knowingly, thin smile shaky but self assured, a feeling of challenge reverberating with nothing more than a cocky “heh”. Silver locks...Ansem’s hair...shook around his shoulders.

“Yeah, well...maybe Dad’s gonna replace you, then, too.”

Vanitas’s jaw immediately clamped shut, wired by the jolted, struck nerves. Riku, though intelligent, was still seven, and remained ignorant of the bleeding gash he had struck deep into Vanitas’s heart.

“It’s almost midnight...hey, did he give you a present, yet?”

Whatever Riku was saying was immediately lost in the trample of Vanitas’s feet as he threw himself off the bed and ran down the hallway, hoping desperately that the tears spilling down his face had been lost in the dark. They slowed eventually, after what felt like hours, and his legs began to feel like they were pulling him through mud. Almost midnight...almost midnight, and that man was still cooped up in his workshop. Tears turned caustic as they streamed, teeth grinding in a way that he was sure would earn some sort of lecture. Good. Let him be lectured. That would be enough to show Dad still cared about some part of him.

He paused in front of the open door leading into the workshop, feet stopping just short of the threshold. Contained candlelight was all that lit the room, deep oranges and browns driving back the encroaching darkness. Hunched over beyond the frame, leaning over an ancient looking wooden desk, was that man. Silver hair fell elegantly about broad shoulders in shimmering sheets...almost Elven, magical...a stark contrast to the furious flurry of his arms and hands and fingers working mechanically, this way and that, grabbing oddly shaped knives and tools that Vanitas couldn’t have made up even in a particularly vivid daydreaming session. His stomach swam, and for a moment, he was prepared to believe his own lies...what if his father really was just some mad scientist, who would carve him up to the bone and throw the scraps to the dog?

“Dad?” His voice was weak, faltered the moment it left his throat. All it did was push out more tears, mourning how pathetic he sounded.

He thought he saw Ansem’s movements pause, but they quickly resumed his work. Anger boiled over in his stomach as he threw out his voice more wildly, it cracking in his emotion.

“Dad!” Vanitas stomped his foot simultaneously, and snot dribbled down his face. “Arentcha forgetting something!? ‘Happy Birthday, Van’! ‘Happy Birthday’! How could you forget your own son’s birthday?! I bet you wouldn’t forget Riku’s! Riku...Riku’s your…”

His voice fell out completely, head hanging, unable to look up as the wooden chair creaked and the solid footsteps of his father quietly approached. Hiccups tumbled out of his mouth, and he couldn’t help how his shoulders trembled even as a strong hand cupped around them.

“Vanitas.”

How strong and confident and unwavering that voice seemed; how kittenish Vanitas’s own sobbing seemed compared to that deep, lionlike roar.

The tears barely left enough room in his eyes for him to notice the gilded corner of a leather notebook, pushed gently under his nose, offered.

“I’d never forget my proud, eldest child.”

Vanitas’s breath seemed to vanish. His head swam with confusion as he hurriedly swiped away the tears clouding his vision, growing cold on his cheeks, and shakily grasped the book. A few second for his eyes to refocus, and it soon became clear what he was holding: a hand bound journal. Elegant carvings decorated its cover, its face stamped with some sort of symbol Vanitas had never seen before.

“This is what is called a ‘sigil’. This one was made with your name,” said Ansem with a sigh that suggested he too had been holding back some worry. Worry? “It is imbued with your will, your spirit...and my guidance.”

Vanitas thumbed through the journal; mostly blank pages greeted him, though there was a hand written appendix in the back detailing simple charms and spells for luck. The occult and science seemed to be at odds to each other, but his father had a vested interest in both, one that he had apparently noticed Vanitas picking up. And now...he had made this, a journal..a grimoire? Welcoming Vanitas further into that world, by his side.

Was that why it had taken so long? Was he waiting until he had finished the gift?

“Happy Birthday, Vanitas.” Ansem’s eyes tilted downwards, and it seemed he was hiding some emotion from his son. “For ever letting you think I did not care...I am sorry.”

“Dad…,” Vanitas’s lips couldn’t seem to focus on becoming a smile or a frown, and wobbly flopped between both. He threw his arms around Ansem, pressing his face into his torso, and let out an ugly, primal shout. “Say it sooner, next time, jerk…!”

“Noted,” Ansem replied primly. “I heard from your Appa that you wanted to give up ballet. Is this also because of how you see Riku? How you think I see him?”

Vanitas flushed, heart pounding, and he was grateful his face was hidden.

“Mm….mmhm…”

“I went ahead and booked you a private tutor earlier, after I heard. You’re skilled, Vanitas, and I don’t want to see your passion fall away. You’re both valuable to me, equally. Perhaps it’s best to let you boys start being separate more often…” Ansem mused as Vanitas backed away, face and tears brimming with surprise.

“Really?”

“Unless you still wanted to do taekwondo. I heard your Appa is quite excited about the possibility of you flipping the children in your classroom around,” he said, chuckling. “I’ll admit, if they’re saying the things I think they are, I’m inclined to agree.”

“Sweet! Uh...wait,” He paused, clutching the journal to his chest and awkwardly scratching his hair. “Can I do both?”

“My, a multidisciplinary. You truly are my son.”

“...Van?”

A voice lilt up from the doorway. Vanitas, eyes barely losing their redness, turned, and immediately he shrank back towards Ansem, who caught him in a ready arm. Riku, eyes wide, hand lifted up nervously to his chin, stood in the threshold.

“I uh...I followed you here…um.” The smaller boy cleared his throat and closed his eyes, and when he spoke up, it was with a courage that steadied the tinniness of his small voice. “I’m sorry, for hurting your feelings. I didn’t know what I said was bad, I just wanted to tease you back. And, um…”

Riku inched forward, traded a glance with Ansem, who nodded down at Vanitas, and wrapped his arms around his older brother, melting into the embrace. Vanitas stood stock still, surprised but unwilling to move, as if afraid to dismiss the warmth of the moment altogether.

“You’re smart, and talented, and a really cool brother,” Riku said, muffled by Vanitas’s chest. “Love you.”

Vanitas finally managed to break his hesitation and placed a hand on Riku’s hair, gently ruffling it.

“I guess you’re not bad yourself.”

“Van.”