🖤 ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ 🖤

There was a threat, a minor threat to him, but a threat to the child and he had been dealing with it and then suddenly the boy was there, right in his path.

Young and scared and wide blue eyes, terrified to even look at him.

He almost killed him.

The boy said something in a pleading voice and then Yamato was pushed away from the neck and Vergil felt so grateful and Yamato’s relief was so profound.

The boy met his eyes then, but Vergil wasn’t seeing. This could have gone so wrong. Suddenly, there was warmth in his left hand, a smaller hand that tugged him forward. The boy’s energy, whole and hale, rose up to meet his jagged edges like a calming wave. It hummed and thrummed, exhilarated, newly awakened, freely shared. 

Suddenly it made sense. Of course the boy had suddenly been fast enough to move into his path. Vergil blinked and for the first time noted how dry his eyes had been. 

The boy kept holding his hand even as the energy gradually slowed to a trickle and the boy’s power, his demonic heritage, went back to sleep. The lack of energy quickly asserted itself as the boy’s steps grew slower, heavier.

He had been moving them in the right direction. Perhaps the boy also knew that was the way they needed to be going, but now it was time to find shelter.

Vergil remembered the way he’d collapsed after the awakening of his power. The boy would only last so long. 

Oo o oO

Nero still felt exhausted when he awoke the next day. That day they spent walking through rows of similar looking houses with walled off gardens. His kidnapper had walked into a house, scared a poor dog half to death and procured food for him that way. 

It was a relief to finally leave the anxiety of the city behind. 

They slept in the hayloft of a barn and it was possibly the best sleep Nero ever had. Logically he knew his bed probably ranked up there, but the last days really made him appreciate lying somewhere soft and warm. 

Now that they were out of the city and there were no more houses in the way, Nero could really appreciate the fact that they going slightly southwest, by the way his kidnapper would just walk uncaringly across the fields - sometimes it was through crops, sometimes it was theoretically fenced off animal enclosures. His homing pigeon theory might not be that far off after all. 

Any and all animals stayed sensibly at a distance.

Their luck with the weather had run out, and they had a couple of very wet and cold days, which had slowed down their progress. 

This day they had spent walking into a forest, which seemed intent on not ending anytime soon. Initially there had been the occasional road, but in the afternoon that had no longer been the case, which of course could be incidental since they weren’t actually following roads, but Nero also didn’t hear any sounds of humanity in the distance, no cars, just the two of them trudging through undergrowth and the careless birds above.

Occasionally they’d walk along game paths, but a lot of time was spent going straight in that slightly southwest direction irregardless of if that path went down into a hollow a creek had cut out of the landscape, across it and up the muddy embankment on the other side. His kidnapper just walked on ,completely unaffected on his stupid long legs, while Nero occasionally stumbled or had to use his hands to assist in getting up some of the more steep rises they came across.

By late afternoon Nero was tired, hungry and grumpy. He’d had enough. He sat down by a tree on the edge of a clearing and crossed his arms.

His kidnapper made to more steps forward, before he realized Nero wasn’t following and turned around, leveling Nero with that blank gaze.

Oh yes, it was not dark yet, Nero was very aware, but Nero was not moving anymore. He glared back.

There was a very likely possibility Nero would just be dragged along by a random limb, but so be it. His kidnapper started to move towards him. Nero braced himself, holding his breath, keeping his glare fixed. His kidnapper bent the tall body slightly- and folded down next to Nero in a crosslegged seat…

Nero blinked, and glanced askance. That was unexpected. He let go his breath in a sigh that left him slumped. Well, okay. This is what he wanted, right?

It was only a moment before his kidnapper was absorbed in his sword - again again. 

This solved nothing. He folded his arms across his stomach. He was still really hungry and now that he didn’t have anything else to focus on it grew unwieldy, and impossible to push away. 

He closed his eyes, tilted his head slightly back and leaned half on the tree half on his kidnapper. Maybe things would be better after a nap - if he could manage to fall asleep.

A rustle had him snap his head back upright, eye searching for movement. There! Across the clearing. A rabbit was slowly moving in the grass between the trees. Stretching forward, its little nose twitching as it examined its surroundings. Standing up on its hind legs every once and again, ears straight up and alert, before continuing it’s trek for food.

Nero was frozen, following its path with only his hungry eyes. He took a deep breath in through his nose, he was so hungry he imagined he could smell it. They were downwind of it. This is why it hadn’t noticed them. 

He was considering the last pair of bullets in Blue Rose. The caliber might blow the creature apart entirely and that wouldn’t help Nero’s hunger. Still, he was hungry. His stomach gave a low rumble, and there was an absurd urge to give chase, to sink his teeth into- he shook his head, hunger really did make one insane. As if he could actually chase down a rabbit. 

Apparently, his rumbling stomach had attracted the attention of his kidnapper, cause he was looking at Nero now, face as usual impassive and what Nero wouldn’t give to know what went on inside that head of his. Nero sighed and leaned more heavily on him in resignation. He might be hungry, but at least he wasn’t cold with his space-heater kidnapper.

His kidnapper turned his head towards the rabbit, his nostrils flared as he took in a short breath as if scenting the air. Nero rolled his eyes, homing pigeon dog space heater kidnapper, yup, this was Nero’s life.

Suddenly, a glowing translucent blade manifested with an almost tinkling sensation against Nero’s senses and he sat up in shock just as it flung itself towards the rabbit. The animal never saw it coming and it was dead in an instant, the blade sticking out of it for a moment, before it disappeared in blue sparks.

Nero stared at the rabbit, then his kidnapper who had turned his head to look at Nero again. Was Nero imagining it or was his right eyebrow just slightly, the teeniest bit raised, as if in expectation?

No, Nero, shook his head, he had to be imagining it. He got up to pick up the rabbit. With a dead rabbit hanging from one hand he was faced with the unfortunate realization he now had to skin and prepare it. He didn’t have a knife, and he didn’t have anything on him to light a fire either. If only he hadn’t dropped his sword, while it would have been unwieldy to skin a rabbit with it, at least he could have easily started a fire. 

He was hungry, but not quite desperate enough for raw meat. 

Maybe he could find some flint? He cast about and started to pick up dry looking sticks and branches, sticking them under his arm. Occasionally he tried brushing aside the top layer of semi decomposed leaves with a foot hoping to find some decent rocks underneath. He made his way back across the clearing and dropped rabbit and potential kindling by his kidnappers side. 

He dropped down to his knees and brushed the leaves away in a wide area and started digging a shallow pit. After a while he sat back on his heels and considered his handy work. He pursed his lips, this was probably good enough that he wouldn’t set the forest on fire.

He got back up and started walking towards the stream he knew was nearby, his hands were filthy and maybe it’d be easier to find a decent flint stone by the bank. He picked up branches along the way. He was glad he’d always had good vision even in the dark because the remaining light of the evening was fading fast. 

He bent down to wash his hands in the merrily clucking stream, letting the worst dirt just run off his fingers in the cold water before he started rubbing at them. When his hands were as clean as he felt he was gonna get them, he took the chance to drink some water from his cupped hands now that he was here. 

Thirst sated for now, he sat back on his haunches with a sigh and started looking for flint rooting around the rocks with his hand. He supposed maybe he could also try to start a fire by rubbing two sticks together… that’s a thing you could do right? A fire really would be amazing, not just to roast the rabbit, but for its extra heat.  

He let his gaze and his fingers look for the right type of rock, that particular smooth surface with a tendency for sharp edges, none of these rounded ones, but coarse one. There! It was his hand that came into contact with the right type of surface first. He raised the small piece of flint up to his face to better inspect it, it was only just big enough he would be able to have a good grip and also strike it, but that was all he needed. He wiped his hands dry on his shirt and put the stone in his pocket.

Picking up his pile of branches again he backtracked with an extra spring in his step, excited that this might actually work.

Oo o oO

It was easier said than done. Nero had his kindling that he hoped was dry enough. He’d got semi crumbled dry leaves that he hoped would work to catch the fire to start with. He didn’t have a knife to strike the flint against, but he did have Blue Rose, and maybe he just wasn’t hitting it right, the rounded surface of the barrel probably wasn’t helping either, but certainly he wasn’t producing any sparks.

He sat back with a sigh and looked over to his kidnapper, who as usual was sitting staring at the broken blade. The scabbard had made a reappearance at his side and Nero wondered if the rest of the blade was inside or if it was lost. 

Nero huffed. “I don’t suppose since you can conjure magical swords you can conjure a fire for us?”

Slowly that blank eyed gaze shifted from the blade to Nero. An impassive moment was drawn out between them, until Nero lost his patience. 

“Of course not,” he turned back to the fire starting efforts with a lowly grumbled, “why do I even bother talking to you?” 

He struck the barrel, nothing. Maybe if the Order hadn’t been so sure they’d always have their bloody swords with them - another strike, sharper angle - maybe they would have focused a bit more on basic survival skills - strike - strike - strike -

Suddenly, a few sparks flew from the barrel with his strike falling into the dry leaves and Nero was so shocked he dropped the flint as he stared at the sparks. He held his breath unsure what to do, but just as he thought maybe he’d succeeded the hope died with the extinguished sparks and a single thin column of smoke rising lazily from a leaf, before even that stopped. 

Nero’s shoulders dropped in his failure. He’d been so close! Now where did the flint go? Please, say he didn’t fling it away in his surprise. He looked around frantically and almost didn’t notice his kidnapper leaning forward until his hand was lightly touching Nero’s crumbled leaves and they burst into flame.

Nero stared incredulously as his kidnapper carefully arranged some of the branches over the fire before it could burn entirely through the leaves then sat back. He looked at Nero. Nero stared back. 

Really? He couldn’t have done that before?  

Eventually the blade was clearly more interesting than Nero again and he went back to doing his whatever it was. Nero focused on the fire, gradually feeding it thicker pieces of wood until he felt it would burn safely without constant watch. 

One problem solved. He looked to the rabbit, licking his lips and he suddenly remembered his hunger, time for the second problem; fur. The rabbit had cooled down and gotten stiff when he went to pick it up again. He stood for a moment at a loss, because fact of the matter was he didn’t have a knife, and the idea of trying to rip off the fur, seemed futile and bothersome and he really didn’t have any good options- then his eyes landed on the broken blade.

Nero swallowed nervously. What were the chances his kidnapper would let him borrow it? Just for a moment? He was very attached to it, what if he decided Nero was a threat after all? No, Nero shook his head. He didn’t think he would kill him. Maybe knock him around a bit at most… probably. Nero bit his lip. 

Okay, he would try.

He put down the rabbit and kneeled down next his kidnapper.

“Hey,” he said lowly setting a hand down on the hand that held the blade, his kidnapper tilted his head just slightly as he looked at Nero’s hand. “I need to borrow this, not for long, just long enough to skin the rabbit.”

He moved his other hand there as well and gently started to loosen the grip. Suddenly intense eyes snapped to his and the grip tightened. There was a low barely there warning rumble and Nero stared wide-eyed and frozen into the eyes he was so used to holding nothing. 

“Please,” he whispered plaintively and held his breath. The moment stretched between them before finally oh so slowly the grip on the hilt relaxed and he allowed Nero to take the blade. 

The moment Nero touched the blade, he understood the reluctance to part with it. It hummed with an energy as if alive, sending warmth up his arm. Nero had never felt anything like it. There was something like a voice whispering along his senses, singing in his blood, but it wasn’t words so much as sensation; comfort, protection, belonging, power. 

Nero’s breath caught and he shook his head reflexively. He didn’t need power, he needed food. He needed focus. The blade sang mournfully as he turned his attention towards the rabbit. He got up and his kidnapper followed him as if helpless not to as he moved away from the clearing, all the while his gaze was locked on the sword - broken, it called to Nero, a plea for help.

Nero rolled his eyes. He might tinker, but that did certainly not make him a sword smith. Even if he were a sword smith, he thought sarcastically as started skinning the rabbit, Nero would have no idea where to start to repair a clearly demonic sword. It was freaky just how sharp the blade was and several times he almost nicked himself because he kept expecting having use more force than he did. He had to be extra careful not to cut through everything when he cut open the belly to remove the guts and organs.

Relieved to finally be done he quickly handed the blade back to his kidnapper, who seemed even more relieved than Nero. Nero was relieved, because that had been a really freaky experience and yet still a part of Nero couldn’t help to be drawn to the blade still - what if -  Nero shook his head. Enough, fanciful thinking and weirdness, he could finally actually cook the rabbit. 

A relatively straight and sturdy branch made a fine enough spit, and he stuck it firmly into the ground at an angle towards and close to the fire so he didn’t actually have to hold it, only turn it occasionally. 

He sat down in easy reach of the spit and pile of wood and drew his knees up so he could hug them. 

His kidnapper sat down at his back, radiating blissful heat in the one spot the fire couldn’t reach. Nero stared at the dancing flames.

“So maybe you are a man ensnared by a demon sword.” He leaned his head backwards until it rested against his kidnapper’s back, turning his head to the side in a halfhearted attempt to see if his words caused any reaction. There was one burning question he wanted to ask, if he was actually human, then- but Nero was tired of asking a question nobody had the answer to. Even if he had the answer somewhere in that head of his, he couldn’t answer Nero’s question. 

“Was it the sword that did this to you?” But already as he put words to the thought he knew it was wrong. The blade was also broken, they were a pair, a broken man and his broken blade - and Nero for some inexplicable reason third-wheeling them on their journey. 

He huffed in amusement and leaned forward to turn the spit and add a couple of branches to the fire, then leaned backwards again more fully. His kidnapper’s cloak still stank incredibly foul, but at this point Nero definitely didn’t smell of roses himself. He yawned. It was only the hunger and the enticing scent of cooking meat that kept him awake at this point. 

Finally, after a frankly saintly amount of patience, Nero could finally sink his teeth into cooked meat. Aside from the smoky flavor from the camp fire it was objectively rather plain and chewy, but it was also warm food and Nero was hungry; it was heavenly. 

Nero had never been a picky eater, but if he ever made it home, he was never complaining about Kyrie cooking too much food ever again, even if it meant he had to eat the same thing for a week.

And like that, with his belly comfortably full, another day came to a close. Seven days. A week - it felt both like more and less. For all that this whole mess was his kidnappers fault in the first place, Nero was glad he wasn’t alone. It was a mess, but it wasn’t too bad. 

-

Hope you enjoyed :D All thoughts and questions are welcome either in replies or the tags. I might elaborate a bit more on the rainy days for the Ao3 version, but this is just the first draft. I had a lot of fun writing Nero and Vergil's interactions in this.

Next time we'll get a pov shift to a new character.