🖤 ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ 🖤

She calls to him, whole and restored unlike him. She has called to him for years so close yet out of his reach while he fought the poison enough to escape the prison of Nelo Angelo’s armor.

Finally, he is free, but while the armor was his prison it was also what held him together. Without it, his time is limited, which is why he mustn’t delay. The Qliphoth will grow anew soon, piercing the thin barrier in Red Grave. Vergil will be there and its power will regenerate him.

There is no room for hesitation.

So he breathes through the burn in his lungs, walks on towards Yamato even as pieces of skin crumble away, his regeneration only barely keeping up.

Yamato is not alone. The young man whose right arm contains Yamato is talking, but Vergil doesn’t hear anything. He’s too focused on the strange happy greeting Yamato is singing to him (almost like she’s trying to show him something), but then there’s a small pause and then the man’s tone changes to suspicion, aggression.

It will be just a moment and then Vergil will have Yamato back in the hands where she belongs. He tenses, ready to move, one quick twist and the arm will rip off easily where demon and human flesh meets. He doesn’t have much time, he needs Yamato’s power.

Suddenly there’s a high pitched voice screeching in with an announcement, running on short legs. The child, because it is a child, is quickly snatched up and pulled back.

The child’s eyes are wide, shocked; a distorted mirror of horror from a past wreathed in pain and fire.

And Vergil, he hesitates at the most crucial moment.

Why? He asks himself as he falls to a knee. The pain in his chest is unbearable, he coughs and coughs and coughs. Surely, he didn’t just hesitate because a child was in the way? He is not fool enough to think his actions haven’t cost the lives of children before. Why did he hesitate? He wasn’t even reaching for the child in the first place he was reaching for Yamato.

The ground is coming up.

“Woah,” the young man exclaims, before hands grab onto his arms. Vergil grits his teeth as the dry flesh threatens to crumble, the draw on his remaining dregs of energy as his body desperately tries to heal. Yamato is right there, thrumming with power and yet he cannot reach her.

Too weak. Too late.

Oo o oO

Alarmed, Nero holds the nearly unconscious man by the arms. His head has lolled backwards displacing the hood of the ragged cloak revealing white hair and skin which is grey and cracking like arid ground. Nero’s demonic arm is still glowing, pulsing even, warning him of the demonic presence, but Yamato is humming with an intensity and urgency Nero has never experienced. He looks from his arm to the demon- man? He doesn’t know what to do.

“Nero, is he sick?” Kyle asks plaintively.

Nero’s head snap back, suddenly reminded of the young boy’s presence. He stands where Nero hastily put him down to catch the falling man, eyes helplessly wide and approaching tears.

“Hey, don’t worry,” Nero forces his voice into a semblance of calm. “Maybe you can get a glass of water?”

Kyle presses his lips together and nods before running off. Nero lets go a relieved sigh before focusing back on the stranger. He was sure he’d been about to be attacked by him, but maybe he was mistaken. He shuffles his hold around to get his left arm around the guy’s back to better support him. The man’s labored breaths rasp wetly and Nero’s throat feels tight in sympathy. Gently he supports the man’s head and tilts it back upright with his right hand to get a better look- he freezes.

He hadn’t thought much of the white hair at first and the ashen skin could just be because he’s a demon, but the eyes hazily staring back at him through half lidded eyes are the same blue as Dante’s, the same blue as Nero’s, and with the white hair-

“Hey, are you awake? Can you speak?” Nero asks urgently.

A hand raises up to grip his Devil Bringer.

“Ya-“ The man’s mouth open, but then he’s coughing, strength rapidly fading, as he fails to clear his airways and by the time he stops coughing his slow breaths are still wheezing and bubbling.

“Shit,” Nero curses, panic is slowly encroaching because he doesn’t know what to do to help. He picks the man up, it is troublesome only because of his long, gangly limbs and certainly not his weight, he is much too light for a man his height.

He hHe hurries towards the door leading into the house and nearly collides with Kyrie in the doorway.

“Nero!” She exclaims breathlessly, “what is going on?” Her eyes goes from Nero’s pale face to the sick stranger, and immediately her worry turns to resolve. “Quick, couch. I will get some water.”

Relieved to have been given direction Nero heads for the living room and gently lays the man down on the couch. He moves all the pillows underneath his head and upper back to provide support; the guy doesn’t sound like he should be reclining completely flat right now. His eyes are still half-open but they don’t seem focused and Nero doesn’t know how aware he is.

Kyrie arrives with a glass of water and Nero supports the man into a more upright position and holds the glass to his uncomfortably dry lips. He doesn’t dare tilt it more than the slightest bit.

“Hey, can you drink something?” He asks, daring to give the man the slightest shake to try and get his attention. The eyes open a bit wider and glance in his direction before his mouth opens just slightly. He takes the smallest sips of water and it looks like every swallow is a war against his own body, like he’s one breath away from another coughing fit. By the time half of the glass is gone he’s clearly exhausted himself again and Nero carefully lays him back down.

“Nero,” Kyrie says, and the way she looks from Nero to the stranger makes it clear she has also noticed the similarity between them; if Nero was older and crumbling into dust. He runs his thumb over his fingers dislodging the fine layer of dust he’d picked up. He feels sick.

“I need to call Dante.” Nero sighs.

She looks at him with sympathy, knowing just how troublesome Dante is. “Of course, I’ll keep watch.”

He sees Nico enter the living room from the kitchen just as he leaves into the hallway, for once silent as she notices their guest on the couch or rather the state of him.

Nero stops in front of the phone in the hallway. He takes a deep breath. For all that he helped them. For all that he let Nero keep the Yamato despite it having belonged to his brother, despite him saying it should stay in the family- For all that he sent Nero a sign for the van allowing him to open his own branch of Devil May Cry-

Dante is always infuriating to deal with, dancing around any and all questions that Nero has before he can even ask them. He’ll brush him off unless Nero is in a bind and asks for help, and then he will lord it over him like a particularly obnoxious fly he just can’t manage to land a hit on.

Yet there’s something in his eyes, the way he looks at Nero-

He makes Nero so confused whether he cares or not. And it’s fair enough, he probably didn’t expect to find another branch of the Sparda line on Fortuna. Who knows how diluted Nero’s blood is or how far related they are. It’s not like he’s asking Dante to be something to him he doesn’t want to be, he’d just like to know if they are.

He sighs. This is not about him though, and if anyone knows anything about their ill guest it will be Dante. He picks up the handset and dials the number he’s long since memorized.

There’s only a couple of beeps before the phone is picked up.

“Devil May Cry,” Dante drawls lazily.

“Dante-“

“Nero,” Dante says in realization and it’s like he packs a thousand unsaid things into Nero’s name every time, and then he tries to dodge again, “look I’m a bit busy-“

And Nero is sick and tired of getting brushed off so he decides to interrupt him bluntly:

“So are there any other scions of Sparda’s bloodline out there you wanna tell me about?”

“What?” Finally he has Dante’s confused attention.
 “Got a guy here, looks an awfully lot like you,” and like Nero, but he doesn’t say that, “white hair, blue eyes, some really sickly grey skin.”

“Nero-“ Dante sucks in a breath and Nero can hear his boots thump down to the floor on the other end and then he speaks intently “Nero, do not take your eyes off him- Kyrie and the kids, you need to get them out of the house.”

“What?” Nero turns his head towards the quiet living room in worry, “You think he’d hurt them?”

“I don’t want to think so-“ Dante’s voice takes on a note of pain Nero has never heard. “Nero, whatever happens, you cannot give him the Yamato.”

Nero can hear him pacing restlessly, “I can’t- I’m coming Nero.” And with that Dante hangs up.

Nero stares at the phone, heart beating fast and scared. Clearly Dante thinks their guest dangerous. Nero’s arm is still glowing and pulsing from the presence of demonic energy, but surely- the man can barely breathe, much less move! Nero hadn’t even gotten to explaining that.

Oo o oO

Vergil stares at the unfamiliar surroundings. He’s warm and lying somewhere soft. The ceiling above is a light type of wood, not concrete. There’s no broken glass tubes or strange equipment, just a small cozy living room with pictures of people on the wall. The soft thing he’s lying on is a couch. His mouth is not quite as dry as he is used to, but his breath still rattles painfully in his chest.

He turns his head slowly, there’s a pair of kids staring at him with worried faces. He saw the smaller one before. Two women are talking with hushed voices further back, he cannot focus enough to actually hear what they’re saying.

The Yamato is nearby, so close, and yet getting up to find her feels insurmountable. His body is too weak, he missed the window. Hesitated when he should have struck. His gaze falls on the younger child again. Why did he hesitate?

Surely not because of the child. It makes no sense. How could he have hesitated when he was so close?

Suddenly Yamato is drawing closer and he turns his head to find the young man from earlier striding in, face drawn in worry. He had been moving towards the women, but the moment his eyes meet Vergil’s he turns to him instead coming over and leaning down slightly to look him over.

“Hey, you’re looking more awake, do you think you can drink more water?”

“Young man,” Vergil raises his left arm to grab the demonic arm with an effort that leaves him breathless.

“It’s Nero.”

“Nero,” Vergil acknowledges as he is helped into a sitting position, never letting go of the hold he has on that arm that keeps Yamato from him, but he no longer has the strength to take her. He may not have cared enough to notice before, but with the young man so close there’s no denying they are family. It makes sense. Yamato would not have accepted anyone else. He closes his eyes as he tries to catch his breath.

How many years has he missed that Dante has an adult son? The thought pains him but in the end it doesn’t matter, only survival does. Perhaps all is not lost, there is a possibility however small-

“You have something that belongs to me,” he rasps finally, “the Yamato.”

Nero grimaces. “I can’t give you that.”

And Vergil cannot take it by force. He is too weak. It’s galling, fighting for so long to be free only for it to end like this? He should be angry, but he finds he has little energy for it. His hold slackens, his hand falls into his lap and he looks down. At least he will die as himself.

The silence stretches until Nero breaks it, voice hesitant.

“Isn’t there something else that can help you?”

Vergil looks to the young man. It’s such an earnest question. So willing to help a stranger, though of course he didn’t know Vergil had intended to rip his arm right off. His gaze slides momentarily across the others in the room, the women and the children, as he decides to be honest. He would not reach Red Grave now to take advantage, but the fact remains:

“Human blood-“ All the adults flinch, finding it predictably gruesome. Nero too, and Vergil is not surprised Dante has not disclosed that part of their nature - in fact it’s possible, with Dante’s ridiculous sensibilities around his demonic heritage he knows very little. One of the women, the lighter skinned one is quietly ushering the children out of the room. Vergil lets his eyes slide back to Nero and holds his gaze tellingly. “Or better yet, the blood of family.”

Nero frowns. “You’re Dante’s brother aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Vergil agrees easily, then asks, “Did he warn you about me?”

Nero’s silence is telling. It was smart of Dante to warn the boy, but still the knowledge is a strange ache in his chest, different from the rattling pain he’s so well acquainted with. He resists the urge to scoff at his body finding new ways to hurt even now.

He sighs.

Every Night & every Morn Some to Misery are Born Every Morn and every Night..

Some are Born to sweet delight... 

Some are Born to... sweet delight... 

Some... are Born... to Endless...

Night... 

Oo o oO

The man seems to slip back into himself, closing his eyes. There’s something terribly resigned about him even as his chest continues to rise and fall laboriously. Yamato sings mournfully in his arm and Nero is incredibly and uncomfortably aware that the Yamato belongs to this man.

This is Dante’s brother.

Nero remembers desperately fighting Dante to keep the Yamato, because he needed its power to save Kyrie. And now he is keeping it away from its rightful owner, who is literally crumbling away on their couch. If anyone needs Yamato’s power right now it’s him, but Dante was very clear.

Dante somehow knew he wanted the Yamato. Dante told Nero to get Kyrie and the kids out of the house. He had sounded spooked and it’s freaking Nero out.

He cannot return the Yamato.

He sends a glance Nico’s way and they move into the kitchen.

Carlo secure in his high chair has long since stopped eating and is having an absolute party with the spaghetti, both hands buried in it and red everywhere from the sauce. He turns as much as he can in his seat and smiles widely at seeing Nero. Despite all his worry, Nero cannot help but return the smile. Carlo promptly lets go of the spaghetti (when his hands are over the floor instead of the tray of course) and reaches for Nero.

“Nene!” he calls.

“Hey buddy,” he bends down to kiss the little guy’s forehead shortly, aware that he hasn’t really washed up since both working on the van and helping his crumbling relative inside. “Just give me a mo-“

“Urgh, you are disgustingly adorable,” Nico remarks and Nero sends her a glare as he moves to the sink to wash his hands and face. He has to wash twice to get the oil sufficiently off his hands, and they have a nail brush so Nero can properly scrub in between the scales of his right arm. Carlo does not appreciate the wait and the sounds he makes are increasingly impatient.

“You could help clean up Carlo,” Nero tells Nico evenly, as he scrubs at a particularly stubborn spot on his scales.

She barks a laugh at him. “He wants his Nene, ‘fraid auntie Nico won’t do.”

“Nene!” Carlo agrees and demands in one.

Nero grimaces, she just doesn’t wanna risk getting sauce on her clothes. Finally he can rinse off the last of the grime and wets a washcloth.

He walks over and gently but quickly starts washing off the increasingly annoyed toddler. “No! Nene!”

“I’ll pick you up once you’re not drowning in sauce, buddy.”

He can practically feel the way a scream is building up in the small body. He’s done just the wrong side of too late, but the scream turns into one of delight as Nero tosses the cloth aside and pulls Carlo out of the chair into a toss. He easily catches him and tosses him again, to squeals and hiccuping laughter. Nero can’t help smiling.

“There we go buddy,” he says as he catches him again, this time settling him into the crook of his demonic arm. One plus, aside from the demon hunting applications, is that Nero seems able to hold the kids practically indefinitely on that arm without getting tired. Small hands pat Nero’s chest, and Nero absently grabs one of the hands.

Carlo yawns and rests his head on Nero’s shoulder, still awake for now, but seemingly content to just stay there. Some of Nero’s tension leaves his body as he just enjoys the moment. He doesn’t even notice he’s started gently rocking back and forth until Nico speaks.

“Gonna give me hives,” she says sticking her tongue out in disgust.

Nero levels her with an unimpressed glare. “What is your problem?”

Thankfully Kyrie enters the room before Nico can answer something that will piss Nero off, it wouldn’t be the first time. They’ve not known each other for long, but there’s a certain way their interactions can’t help but go.

“I told Kyle and Julio to stay upstairs for now.”

Nero smiles gratefully.

Kyrie looks to Nero with worry. “What are we going to do?”

Nero knows exactly what she’s talking about; the blood. He cannot give him the Yamato, but-

“I feel I have to.”

Nico looks from Nero to Kyrie’s soft accepting nod, and then her eyes widens.

“Wait! You’re not seriously thinking of letting him drink your blood, what is this a vampire romance?”

Nero feels his face go through several motions, before he properly parses where the sentence went.

“What eww, Nico, why do you have to be like this?”

“I don’t know,” Nico returns sarcastically, “since Mr Dry As A Desert in there said he needed human blood to survive.”

Nero sighs, and tries to explain: “It’s a demon thing, it’s why they kill humans in the first place, and we’re related.”

“If that’s a demon, why are you not killing it, mr demon hunter?”

Nero just cannot take that mocking tone of hers.

“Do you just only listen to half of what I’m saying?!” He snaps, hand instinctively covering Carlo’s free ear and it’s a small miracle he’s actually managed to fall asleep with the bickering of the last minutes.

Kyrie clears her throat and they both look at her guiltily.

“How about we quiet down so the kids don’t think we’re fighting?”

Nero takes a deep breath, focusing on Kyrie instead of Nico.

“Look Dante said I should get you all out of the house, I’m not entirely convinced it’s necessary, like you’ve seen the guy, but Dante also sounded really worried.”

Kyrie sets a hand on his shoulder and turns to Nico.

“Nico will you take the kids back to your place?”

Nico grimaces. “Only cause you’re asking Kyrie, Loverboy will have to owe me.”

“Hey!”

Kyrie steps on Nero’s foot and he promptly shuts his mouth.

“We appreciate it,” she smiles at Nico until she turns bashful.

“Eh, don’t mention it.”

“I will pack up some food, since dinner was interrupted.”

“I’ll go tell the boys,” Nero says handing Carlo to a hesitant Nico who does however take him without complaint and leaves the kitchen through the door leading to the hallway. He jogs up the stairs reaching the door to Kyle’s room first, they’re not in there. He finds them on the second try, sitting on Julio’s bed huddled together under a blanket.

“There you are.” He stops in the doorway and smiles, “can I come in?”

Julio nods, and Nero goes to sit beside them. They sit together for a moment before Nero sets a hand on Julio’s blanket covered shoulder.

“I need you both to pack a bag, you’re staying with Nico for the night.”

“Why?” Julio asks with a frown.

“Is-it-cause-the-man-is-a-vampire-and-we-made-the-mistake-of-inviting-him-into-our-house?” Kyle rattles so fast Nero has to take a moment to parse the words, then he promptly frowns and immediately regrets it when Kyle flinches back.

“Hey no,” He reaches out and pulls both boys into a hug. “I’m not mad at you Kyle, it was just something Nico said earlier I remembered. And no, the man is not a vampire. You guys remember Dante?”

Julio snorts and Kyle looks up at him with wide eyes, “the man who made you yell many bad words?”

Nero’s lips and eyebrows twitch in remembered aggravation. “Yes that a- guy. Well, the man downstairs is Dante’s brother and he’s very sick.”

“Is he contagious?” Julio asks, being older of course he’d think of that, especially because he actually remembers the aftermath of the Savior Incident - the destruction had only been the beginning, next was the issue of shelter for the survivors and lack of clean water. A lot of people had gotten sick.

“I don’t think so,” Nero finally replies, hoping he’s right, “but until Dante comes tomorrow, it’s best he gets lots of rest.”

“We can be quiet!” Kyle pipes up.

“I know you can,” Nero says kindly, mentally adding for half an hour. “But you shouldn’t have to.”

He squeezes them tightly one extra time before shooing them off to pack. He follows Kyle into his room and has to instruct him to pack clothes before plushies. When he’s satisfied the packing is happening, he goes to pack a bag for Carlo.

Some time and one tiebreak between the tiger and shark plushie later, which the shark won with its big teeth, they’re all ready to leave and strapped in except for Nico.

“Thank you, Nico,” Nero says sincerely and she punches his shoulder. He rubs it with a grimace, that’s what he gets for being nice. Kyrie chuckles though and she probably knows something about Nico’s behavior Nero just can’t figure out. Kyrie gives Nico a hug, that Nico melts into and Nero shakes his head, he really doesn’t understand that woman.

Nico is the one to break the hug, with a cough and she hurries into her car. Kyrie leans back against Nero.

“Kyrie…”

“No,” she says quietly as she waves to the boys. The car starts, and it becomes too late as they drive off. Kyrie turns around and looks up at him. “You know I’m not leaving you.”

Nero sighs. “I know, but I would prefer you safe.”

She smiles and she is radiant. Nero cannot look away. Kyrie holds Nero’s entire heart and every day he’s equally befuddled she decided to gift her own in return. She pulls him down and touches her lips to his for just the span of a breath. Her thumb strokes his cheek, as they part and there’s something in her gaze Nero can’t quite discern, before she lets her hand fall away to clap both hands together.

“Now let’s see if we can help our guest.”

Oo o oO

Vergil drifts, it’s a feeling he’s familiar with, a way to escape the decomposition of his own body. It’s how he’s rested in between fighting to escape his trappings. The pain is more distant like this, though never gone, he only has to turn his attention towards it and he’s harshly pulled into the reality of his slow inevitable death.

A hand is on his shoulder it feels like fire on his cold skin even through the layers of fabric and he frowns, opening his eyes.

The young man, boy, Nero, comes into view, eyes concerned.

“Hey, I hope this is okay,” he holds a large glass in front of Vergil, and it’s only when Vergil dares a deeper breath through his nose his brain connects the scent now in his nose with the red color; blood, power, family.

He doesn’t realize he’s moving until Nero says, “Hey easy!” And presses a hand on his chest. Vergil blinks, aware of himself again, and it’s galling how easily he’s held in place, he relaxes back against the couch. It doesn’t make sense Nero would bring him the blood only to withhold it.

“Okay,” Nero says, “I’m giving you the glass now, but you’re gonna drink slowly, and I will assist you.”

Vergil grits his teeth, but he’s all too aware of his pitiful state, so he nods, even as he has a hard time keeping his eyes off the glass and the power he feels from it.

It takes all of Vergil’s willpower to take small sips of the life-giving liquid. It’s potent, more potent than Vergil had expected it would be. Every sip feels like connecting a live wire to the core of his power. It feels like waking up. 
 The glass is empty all too soon.

Vergil is not fixed, he can still feel Mundus’ poison eating at him, but he’s been given something he didn’t have just moments ago - valuable time and strength.

He opens his eyes not even knowing when he closed them to see Nero, looking at him with a hesitant smile.

“You’re looking better.”

Vergil inspects his hands, his skin is still rather gray, but there are fewer cracks. He takes a deep breath free of rattling for the first time in recent memory. It feels incredible, the simple novel joy of being able to breathe.

He looks back up at Nero. “I feel better, thank you.”

Yamato is right there and Vergil can take her now. Nero would not be able to expect how fast he can move. Yamato belongs to him. Still, it would be dishonorable after Nero freely offered his blood. Vergil will allow his nephew to hold on to Yamato for a bit longer.

For now, Vergil’s regeneration has real power for the first time since he escaped the armor, and his body demands actual healing rest. He lays down and closes his eyes.

He breathes, slow and deep, how wonderful a feeling.

Oo o oO

Vergil turns around in his sleep to face the approaching energy, the other half of his soul returning, blazing with warm power. He reaches for that connection between them, it’s always been there and it always will be, even when Mundus tried to sever it, he reaches out and for just a moment their awareness meets; Dante.

Vergil’s eyes snap open. Dante is coming and he’s close! Now that he’s awake it’s all too clear how rapidly he’s approaching. His heart beats urgently in his chest as he pushes himself up. Of course Dante is coming, as if Nero wouldn’t tell Dante he’s here. Vergil is not in a state where he can fight Dante and win. He’s not in a state he wants Dante to see and most of all he doesn’t know what Dante will do.

Is he here to finish the job?

“Hey, are you okay? Do you remember where you are?” Nero says approaching him slowly.

Vergil needs to escape. The Yamato is the only option. Between one breath and the next Vergil stands in front of Nero, his hand closes on the arm that holds Yamato. The temptation is strong to just take it, but that fraction of a second with Nero looking shocked and fearful, has him once again hesitating, still he has to leave, now, before it’s too late.

A rapid series of teleports adds much needed distance from the place Dante will think to find him first, though it leaves him woozy and struggling to breathe. He lets go of Nero who falls to the ground, cursing. Vergil coughs, and tastes blood.

Nero is talking, yelling at him more like, as he struggles back to his feet looking nauseaus, but Vergil isn’t listening. There’s something familiar about the architecture of the buildings here. They are on a wide street, lined with elaborate black lampposts turned on due to the late hour. He turns around, trying to figure why this place feels familiar.

It clicks suddenly; this is Fortuna.

And Nero-

“You’re not Dante’s son, you’re mine.”

The words escape him before he can even consider to stop them and suddenly it makes sense why Nero’s blood is as potent for him as it is. It isn’t the diluted blood of his brother’s offspring, it is his own - only Dante’s blood would’ve been better and only because they’re twins.

“What?” Nero says reeling and Vergil looks at him, his son, and there can really be no mistake. No wonder Yamato accepts him.

“Are you telling me you’re my father?!” Nero voice is full of too many emotions to clearly parse, shock, disbelief, desperation, Vergil’s brows draw down because some things aren’t adding up - Nero doesn’t allow Vergil to answer though jumps right into a new question:

“Wait, my mother, who was my mother?”

Vergil unconsciously takes a step back.

“Your mother, you don’t know your-“ The stab of pain is like lightning striking behind Vergil’s eyes, a terrible pressure and his hand goes futilely to his forehead. It hurts so much. There’s a flash of a smile, a slender hand entwined with his, and then nothing else.

“I don’t- I don’t remember.” He doesn’t remember. How much of his life is missing?

Nero’s angry tirade starting with “What do you mean you don’t remember! How can you not-“ is cut off when he notices Vergil’s state and the fact that he’s taken another step away from him.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Is he okay? Vergil almost wants to laugh, but the scoff turns into a cough that feels like razors in his airways and it doesn’t want to stop. He coughs and coughs and coughs, until finally he can look down on the hand he used to cover his mouth to find it glistening in the lamp light from blood. His borrowed time is running out. Dante is getting terribly close, teleporting away was ever only a temporary measure.

“Nero,” he rasps, not daring to try and clear his throat, “I need the Yamato.”

“You need to sit down,” Nero says hands landing on Vergil’s upper arms steadying him, and he hadn’t even realized he’d been swaying.

That is the moment Dante shows up. Vergil’s twins brother, resplendent in his power, hale and whole, drops down from the sky like a small meteor opening up his wings at the last moment so he doesn’t damage the street - and then he lands, light as a feather in a shower of red sparks as he lets go of his demon form.

Oh how things have changed since Dante would barely acknowledge their heritage a lifetime ago.

Nero’s hands fall away from Vergil as he takes a step toward Dante. “What the Hell, old man, did you fly all the way to Fortuna!?”

And Nero is right; on a second look Dante does look old. There’s wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and lips, on his forehead - he looks worn in a way Vergil would never have noticed on his own too absorbed in the feeling of Dante’s presence rather than his actual physical appearance.

“Hello to you too, kid. How about you step away from my brother and let me handle it from here.” He smiles casually, but he is clearly tense.

Fear is a cold ball in Vergil’s belly, he cannot face Dante like this, he must escape.

“Nero, the Yamato, please-“

“Don’t give it to him, Nero,” Dante interjects voice even, casual as you please as he walks closer.

Nero has had enough of this, he doesn’t care about the Yamato at this point, but what he does care about is one small realization. “Did you ever plan to tell me you are my uncle?!”

Dante grimaces.

“You didn’t tell him?” Vergil frowns and steps around Nero, suddenly he realizes why he’d felt the pieces didn’t add up, because Nero should have known, if he knew Dante, then Nero should have known he was Vergil’s son. There is no way Dante could look at Nero and not know. That strange ache in his chest makes itself known again and his breath feels too short.

“Do you hate me so much you’d hide the truth from my son?”

Dante halts in place, his face does something strange and his fists clench, his shoulders rise and then they fall.

“I killed you, Verge!” His voice breaks. “You’d have me tell the kid I killed his old man?”

“He had a right to know!” Vergil yells and instantly regrets it as it triggers another coughing fit and he doesn’t see the way Dante freezes, guilt painted on his face.

“You killed him?” Nero asks incredulously. This is madness.

“I-“ After a false start somehow Dante manages to slap a grin on his face. “Evidently I half-assed it.” He nods to Vergil who is clearly still alive, though running out of time.

“Nero, Yamato now.”

“Don’t.” Dante steps closer and Vergil takes a step back.

“I don’t think you’d be able to stop me even with the Yamato at this point, anyways. You’re nowhere near healthy. Just give up.”

Nero looks between them bewildered and confused. He’s missing so much context, but apparently Dante kept their relation from Nero because he thought he’d killed his dad? Which he clearly felt guilty about but doesn’t explain why in the first place or why they are fighting now. This is a mess, but there’s really only one thing Nero can do.

He steps between them. “Stop. Just stop. What is going on?”

“Nero, I need the Yamato, or Dante will finish the job.”

Nero gives Dante a level look. “Are you really going to kill him?” It makes no sense to Nero why Dante would want to.

Dante looks past Nero and kinda barks a laugh, humorless and kinda edging towards hysteria. “I don’t know, Verge! Are you planning something nefarious that will result in a massive loss of human life?!”

Vergil flinches just slightly at the accusation and Nero’s jaw drops.

“Wait really?” And then it sinks in, this is his dad, Dante was afraid for Nero’s family for good reason, Nero invited him into his home and could have paid for it with much more than a glass of his own blood. This is his dad and somehow that fact makes it all the worse. He feels devastated and it shows on his face. In a smaller voice he repeats: “Really?”

Vergil’s jaw tightens, it feels like a gut punch. He was not prepared for Nero. He was so good and so kind and Vergil in contrast was only focused on his own survival. If Vergil had not hesitated in that one crucial moment he would have ripped off Nero’s arm, taken back Yamato and left his future to fate - mutilating his own son, however unknowing.

Vergil sighs and admits: “There was a plan.”

Nero feels his heart break, but Dante jumps on one important detail: “Was, you mean that’s no longer the plan?”

Vergil straightens as best he can. “The plan was always survival and recovering my strength, but a better option may have opened up.” He glances at Nero.

There’s suddenly a wild hope growing in Dante’s chest, enough that he dare admit the crack in his resolve.

“I don’t want to kill you again.”

Nero rubs his face, wonders how this is his life and how that is a sentence that makes sense. This is clearly a conversations that should have been had calmly over a cup of tea instead of this drama in the middle of the street.

Dante steps forward, holding out a hand, and his jaw clenches once before he says, “Vergil, please.”

Vergil looks at the hand he rejected a life time ago when he fell. Nero of course doesn’t understand the significance when Vergil’s shoulders lowers and he finally takes Dante’s hand.

He’s promptly pulled into a crushing hug, he gasps as it grinds his bones together. His weakened body protesting the treatment and he’s pushing futilely to get away, but then Dante burrows his face in the crook of Vergil’s neck and he’s crying. Vergil stops struggling uncertain how to react.

“Dante.”

Dante shakes his head. “Just give me a moment.”

All this time, all these years, Vergil hadn’t been sure Dante actually cared. Sure he’d cared enough to reach for him, but he’d been all too quick to talk about killing Vergil, all because of some faceless humans. Then he had soundly defeated him as Nelo Angelo, left him on the very brink of existence. Vergil doesn’t think it is unreasonable to have assumed Dante would finish the job given the chance.

It is a balm on his soul knowing Dante doesn’t actually want to kill him, to have Dante so close after everything, his warm power chasing away the cold of Vergil’s limbs. He folds his own arms around Dante and leans back.

Nero watches the brothers and he isn’t sure exactly why, but he finds himself tearing up a bit.

“Come here, kid.” Suddenly Dante’s hand springs out and snatches Nero and before he knows it he’s squished into the hug with an indignant squawk. But after a moment he too melts into the hug.

The applause starts as a few claps, but rise quickly in power. Nero feels his heart drop into his belly and his face heat as he looks up at the open windows and the people standing in them. His family drama for all to see. Someone whoops and yells, “Go Nero!”

Dante and Vergil are also looking up, Vergil bewildered, whereas Dante of course slaps on a smile and steps back to give a couple of flourishing bows to their audience.

It leaves Nero with only his newfound dad to hear as he mumbles mortified: “I’m gonna have to move to the mainland.”

-

But Kail helped Ace move into the empty, smaller second apartment on the third floor to function as headquarters once the building was deemed safe. The gym was a place for the Minxes to train and exercise; a place for them to gather when the Himari was full or when they needed to keep something secret from Marq (keeping secrets from Ace required more delicate subterfuge); all patrol shifts started and ended with digital check-ins there. And in the fallout of the fire, the unofficial second venue of the Minx gang became the central hub for all gang activity.

Before the Himari burned, Ace rarely delegated. She sent people out to gather intel or blackmail, but it all still made its way across her desk. As the gang grew in number, she found herself responsible for more and more Minxes; even those that exclusively worked for Marq in the hotel knew that the Vice Captain had her eyes literally and figuratively looking over them. There were of course those that took on patrols, and their patrol shift captains, and those that she would turn to when action was needed—Nemo Nanashi was almost always the one she called on first—but everything and everyone still turned their reports in to her according to her strict deadlines. The hotel was Marq's, and the day-to-day gang activity was Ace's—that had been the arrangement that the two friends settled into.

But with Marq gone—missing—there were working women without a place to turn to; Minxes without housing or income; other gangs scrambling across the countryside; community members reeling in the aftermath of the fire that had spread to other buildings further down the street and around the block….. Everything Ace ate after the first six hours was tinged with the familiar metallic tang of blood.

Delegating to Rin Zahana had been easy—Ace, Marq, and Patchy regularly worked in tandem already, planning events and coordinating schedules for maximum gang bonding time. Patchy could take Marq's vision and thread it through Ace's eccentricities for maximum pay-off. So while asking for help did not come naturally to Ace, putting Patchy in charge of patrol shifts and coordinating vendors for housing and food was a natural conclusion to come to.

Turning to Twyla Dere would have been an easy switch—her boyfriend, Akihiko Nirei of Bofurin, had always been a fount of information and now was no different. But sightings of Twyla were few and far between after the fire, even though communication was readily available. Phon, instead, took up the mantle of filtering incoming information without complaint, categorizing it all before passing off the most relevant information to Ace, and saving everything else to be handled after Marq was found.

It wouldn't be until months later that Ace would remember how quiet Nix Yamada had been in those frantic weeks—no complaining, no begging, no arrests, no rescuing, no unauthorized trouble—it was a solace that would have otherwise made Ace suspicious, but in the moment, was a balm on her burdened mind. Finding out, after the fact, that Nix had helped in the search almost sent Ace into cardiac arrest.

Nemo similarly disappeared—radio silent, much to Patchy's scheduling dismay. She would show up at the back door of the gym with a new barely-alive thug every few days, fists and clothes bloodied. With every body that Nemo could bring in, Ace got closer to untangling the threads of Marq's kidnapping. Thankfully, Jessica Umemiya, Ariel, and Mint filled in for Nemo's absence, becoming some of the most reliable fighters in the gang in a matter of days.

Others faded in and out of the miasma of hazy memories—Daisy Matsuzaki, Rei Tsunamura, and Kasey all kept their eyes and ears on the streets surrounding the Minx territory from their respective shops. Sunny continued her courier runs, squirreling into places most others couldn't. Kagura Kanade, Rosie, Leigh, and Monet—all noncombatants—put in the legwork to solidify relationships and networks that Ace normally shouldered on her own. Jude, Minx, Enni, and Ana similarly found their niches, rising to the occasion and filling in gaps left by Ace's single-minded drive to find their leader.

Even Kitten—an enigma that Ace had relegated to her periphery, as she recognized it was probably better for everyone if she didn't ask too many questions—came out of the woodwork, stealing mugshots and lists of names from Ace's office and returning later to clean up (or complicate) Ace's murder kidnap board, red connection threads dwindling and growing in number with each passing hour.

It wasn't until Haruka Sakura came calling that Ace realized that Kail had disappeared like Nemo, like Twyla (like Nix).

"Sorry?" Ace blinks heavily, vision blurry even with her (somehow spotless) glasses perched on her nose.

Sakura stands in the open doorway, fists clutched at his sides. A deep breath manages to lower the volume of his voice. "Kail, she—she's missing. She's not answering my texts and my calls keep going to voicemail." He shakes his head, two-toned hair falling into his mismatched eyes. "I know that you're busy—finding Marquie should absolutely be the priority. But it's been days. Are you really telling me that you haven't noticed that she's gone too?"

Ace tries to turn the last few days over in her mind, searching for a memory of the last time she saw Kail. They parted ways four (maybe five?) nights ago, Kail headed to bed after a harrowing patrol shift and Ace was getting ready to question Nemo's kidnapped thug (what would end up being the first of many); Ace pulled an all-nighter, the sun rising well past the horizon before she was satisfied with the information she gathered. After that…..

Well now that Sakura had brought it up, Ace could recognize that Kail had disappeared from her sight probably around that time. She runs shaking hands over her tired eyes, pushing her glasses up into her oily hair. A shower is desperately needed; that is clear now that she has been forced to stop thinking about Marq.

Kail, Kail, Kail. "Let's just double-check the other apartment before we start panicking." Sakura's whole body shakes with barely restrained agitation, but he steps back out into the hallway so that Ace can pass by him to the doorway directly opposite hers. The doorknob turns smoothly, and the door itself pushes inward without difficultly. The recently renovated kitchen has its overhead light on, warm yellow glow pouring into the entryway.

Moving into the kitchen, a sheet of pink printer paper greets the pair from the refrigerator, Kail's familiar handwriting scrawled across it.

I'm fine. Just need some space. I'm sure Ace has a way of tracking me down if it's an emergency. XOXO

"See," Ace waves one hand in the air, as if brushing away Sakura's concern, and pulls out her phone with the other. "She's fine. Nothing to worry about." Even as she says the words, Ace knows that it won't assuage Sakura's fears—he needs to be with Kail, to have eyes on her. Which is why she's already scanning through the tracking information for the various cars that she has left around their neighborhood—quick getaways for the Minxes or their allies when needed.

Most of them have moved around since she last checked, but that's to be expected; all of them are still in the neighborhood though, save for one. The blue Honda Civic does not have a pin on her map of the immediate area—and it's not until Ace scrolls out towards the coast that she finds it. She pockets her phone and turns to leave, brushing passed Sakura. "Ask Patchy for the keys to one of the Toyotas. I'll text you Kail's location. Bring our girl back, but only on her terms."

Sakura brings Kail home about a week later—Ace asks no questions and Kail slips seamlessly back into the flurry of activity, supporting Ace and the others to the best of her ability.

The assistance continues even after Marq is found—Ace continues to struggle under the weight of running the gang herself, with the now added pressure of rebuilding the Himari. Marq has to be given the space and time to heal, and Ace will hear no arguments from her partner—Hajime Umemiya hardly lets the Minx leader out of his sight anyway.

But the Minxes continue to carry the weight where Ace lets them—her novelty coffee mugs are still filled with hot coffee; her dietary needs and preferences are always handled with the utmost care; her drinking water is ice cold and rotated in between cups of coffee; and she always wakes up having been carefully carried to bed. No one seeks praise; no one waits for the whispered "thank you" that always follows; no one shirks their other duties—they all just carefully wind themselves around Ace's whims and meets the weight of her expectations over and over again, letting nothing slip through their carefully woven web of shared responsibility.

It gets easier for Ace to delegate, (a contract here, a package there) and as the new Himari takes shape around them, as their community rebuilds itself under her guiding hand, the Minxes collectively wait for the day that Ace lets go—the day that she can breathe without feeling as though she has to carry it all alone.

Minxes Mentioned in No Particular Order: Marquie & plumshine @dynapuff; Patchy @/peachypatchy; Nix + Kail & lilyblossom @katsulock; Twyla & twyrei @weird-dere-writes; Rosie @shigarosie; Kagura @pearl-blue-musings;

Ariel @a-girl-cant-decide-on-a-name; Nemo @bluebellhairpin; Daisy @ltadoriyuujl; Rei @yuzuite; Mint @mintmatcha

Leigh @togame-hoe; Phon @saphhonic; Monet @forest-meadow; Jude @kaisaerie; Enni @kineticsparks;

Sunny @spacedust-alley; Kasey @kingdumkum; Ana @katanaski-main; Jessica @breakdawn-avenue; Minx @pricesprincess

Kitten @katsukikitten (sorry you're by yourself 😭)

Post-Script: I wanted this to be a longer piece—getting more into the shift of labor from Kakari to everyone else—but I ran out of steam 😔 Regardless, this is a love letter to all of you for your friendship and the world-building that we've done over the past two years (yes, even those of you who only recently joined!). And a special thank you to Marq, for starting it in the first place. My blog as a whole wouldn't be the same without your indulgence in my silly thoughts.