#gndh

You never really thought of yourself as parent material, no demon hunter does. But here you are, standing in your small apartment, with lingering sulphur-tinged blood soaking into your clothes and skin, with a child swaddled in your arms. It’s not yours (well, you guess it- he- is now,) but something about the unfortunate kiddo makes your heart shake in a weird way. You tug your boots off one handed, gently detach your demonic weapon from your back and rest it next to the door before heavily plopping your body down on your aged couch, baby bouncing in your secure arms. You gently bring the bundle up to your eye level and take a moment to truly look at the little guy. His hair was the most striking part of him, with it being a pure white reminding you of fresh starlight. His eyes were half closed but focused on you, his dark grey eyes seeming to simply take in your face. He takes a second more before giving a soft coo expected from a baby, arms wriggling in his blanket almost eager to reach you. Your heart nearly implodes from the sheer amount of adorableness this baby exudes.

You help him out a bit by unraveling the blanket a small bit and a piece of paper falls out onto your lap, you pick it up and it only has one thing written; ‘Nero’. You turn your attention back to him, “Is this your name? Nero?” you gesture lightly with the paper still in hand. All he gives is a nonsensical babble but you take that as confirmation, not like you really have any other idea of this kid’s origins.

You found him while clearing out demons from a dilapidated house, you didn’t even notice him at first until he started crying. He was under the corpse of a woman dressed in the Church’s cloth, you could only assume she was his mother who tried protecting her child from the horde of demons. In a daze of guilt of not coming sooner, you picked up the crying baby and went home on autopilot.

Looking at the paper, you take a moment to realize what that meant. His mother knew she likely wasn't going to live long so she took the precaution of leaving evidence of his name in his blankets. You give a soft sigh at that, the poor woman. poor kid. While you reflected on what has been the most… confusing hour and half of your life, Nero had taken to trying to grab at you with his small hands. You finally give your attention back and lay a hand on his face. He’s so… small. You’ve never really been around children, at least not in prolonged periods, you found yourself not the affectionate type that kids seemed to need.

A traitorous part of you tells you to simply make this someone else's problem, the Fortuna Orphanage maybe. But you shake your head, you don’t want him to be at the mercy of the orphanage, you remember your time spent volunteering over there. Children can be so cruel to one another when all they have is themselves and each other. It’s not their fault, not really, most of them were just angry at the world. Knowing that and having Nero stare at you with his sleepy, innocent eyes, you decide this will be your responsibility. You won’t abandon him like so many others have done to you.

You take a moment to roll your shoulders out but you soon feel the tacky blood drying against your neck and clothing. You look down at yourself and then Nero and notice how his blanket and neck managed to sustain some demonic (and maybe human-) blood. You huff lightly before pushing yourself up and off the couch and towards the bathroom.

“Alright little man, let's get us a bath.” you turn your head towards Nero, before pausing. You vaguely remember how most of the times babies are drenched using a cup or bowl or something to help control the water better, you turn on your heels towards your small kitchen and grab a small pitcher sat on the counter. You continue to the bathroom, placing the pitcher on the sink as you get the water running in the bath. Nero rests in your lap as you play the delicate dance of getting the water to something a little over room temperature. Soon enough your tub is mostly full with water, hopefully not too full as to overflow once you sit yourself and Nero in but you’ll worry about that later like most things today.

You stand up and strip off your blood-soiled clothing and toss it into your makeshift hamper (it’s an unused plastic trash can you got for about five dollars), and then you gently unwrap the kid from his blanket. You fold it and hang it on the towel rack, knowing you’ll want to keep that separate from your clothes. You hold on to Nero and sink down into the warm water. You cradle him on your chest, before leaning your head back and heaving a soft sigh. You are going to need to buy so many things, and you might not have enough in your current savings; you’re waiting on at least three clients to pay for missions. You took on multiple missions at a time but due to the… shadier nature of some clients you drew in, the chance of actually being paid was a 50/50 chance.

While you softly pet nero’s hair, you take a mental list of what you’ll need and the best place to buy from. Clothes are a big one, along with likely the most expensive; kids grow too fast, you mentally grumble. Buying them brand new is a no go, with how many shops in Fortuna make them handmade it costs an arm and leg if you aren't working with the Church. You’ll have to resort to thrift shops, while not the cheapest option (that would mean a trip over to Redgrave) it should eat less into your funds. You could also buy toys from the thrift shop, two for one trip you guess. Food… you’re stumped on what the kid should eat since you don’t know his exact age, should you buy formula? those weird purees? ugh. You might have to reluctantly visit the orphanage and ask for advice, that or borrow some books from the Fortuna Library.

You’re pulled from your thoughts by a tug on your hair. You look down and see Nero looking up at you while his small hand grips your hair. You gently take his hand and untangle it from your hair, before slowly sitting up. You grab the pitcher and fill it with the cooling water, before slowly and carefully pouring it over Nero with your hand cupping the top of his face. You repeat a few more times as he babbles in the way babies do. You then do your best to rinse yourself off one-handed with the pitcher knocking clumsily hitting the tiled walls (as well as your head), but after making far too much of a mess and noise, you give up and decide to leave it for tomorrow. You flick the drain switch and watch as the water slowly lowers. You brace yourself and pull yourself out of the tub the best you can while one arm is occupied.

Your hair drapes down in front of your face as you struggle against the weight of water and gravity to pick yourself up. You blindly yank a towel off the rack and take a moment to wrap Nero in it, setting him down on the toilet seat so you’re able to take care of your dripping self. You ring out your hair, water splattering in the near empty bathtub and you grab a towel to wrap it. You grab the last towel in the bathroom and wrap it securely around your body. You look back down at the baby and decide two things; 1. you need to learn how to properly swaddle a baby, because you seem to only know how to burrito one, and 2. you’re going to need to make a night plan. You don’t have any diapers for the kid, nor do you really want to wake up to a mess on your bed… You quickly look around your bathroom for a possible solution, before landing on your hand towel. It’s not… great. But it will have to work for now, not like it’s a prized possession so you’ll shrug at its likely departure from the house.

You unwrap Nero from the towel and replace it with the hand towel, taking care to wrap around his lower body. You glance back at the blanket he was originally swaddled in, he’ll need a blanket for the night, you speculate. You lift him up in your arms and make your way to your bedroom, knowing you’ll have one or two things that should be a workable replacement for the night. You slowly but surely make your way there, feeling sluggish and mildly exhausted from the bath. To be honest, you’re just exhausted in general from the day.

You kick the door to the room open lightly, not wanting to hurt yourself, nor the door, that and you hate causing loud noises. It's almost always unnecessary. You place the kid down onto your bed, before moving over to your small closet. You open the door and begin looking into some boxes you stuffed into it awhile ago. You have to rearrange them and get to the one on the very bottom, the oldest one. It’s dusty, unopened since… 15 years ago? 20? you can’t quite remember. You gently peel back the flaps, and see what it held. It’s your blankets from when you were just a kid. From when you were….

Shaking your head you grab the one of the very bottom of the pile, the softest one. You rise up from the floor of the closet, and turn back to the bed where Nero has started to get squirmy from the slight cold in the house. You lift him up and place him onto the old blanket, doing your best to wrap him up but eventually you just give up and roll him into the blanket.

You chuckle at your messy attempt, “Look like I turned you into a burrito lil’ man, what a horrible fate.”

All you get back in reply is a babble that emulates a laugh. Your entire expression softens at that, such a cute baby you’ve been saddled with. You rid yourself of the towels and replace them with an oversized hoodie and loose pants for sleep, or at least simply lying down and keeping an eye on Nero. But.. before that you need to check in on your damned weapon. It’s been making an odd noise ever since you got home and you can’t ignore it anymore. You move Nero over to one of your pillows, wanting him to be as comforting as possible. You get to the doorway before paranoia hits you and you return to the bed to make a wall of blankets so he doesn’t roll off somehow. You walk out the bedroom doorway and make your way to your front door, where your demonic weapon rests upside down.

It’s a hammer, or shaped vaguely like one. It’s long and massive in size, you’d say it’s probably double your size? You’re not entirely sure. Its main feature is the (usually) covered eye; wings typically block its view as well as its power. But now, it looks at you, orange leaking from its eye, wings flared out from the core.

“You’ve been making a humming noise ever since we got home, what’s the damn deal,” you kick the side of the weapon and its pupil shrinks in pain as it lets out a low groan.

“The disrespect thou displays is uncouth for a lower being such as thee,” the eye flicks up and down at you in irritation “and thee hast brought kin of a trait'r.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“trait’r of demon kind, the dark knight of the hells,-” its wings flicker and quiver as it ‘speaks’, “the child you hast hath brought into the hearth is kin of Sparda.”

Those words hang heavily in the air of the living room. You stare down at the weapon with arms crossed, quickly taking a glance towards your bedroom.

You take a breath, “You’re sure?”

“Certain, thy hast taken in a child of Sparda. However, thou art perhaps fortunate, tis energy is weak.” its eye nods in a way that mimics a head nodding

You stand still for a moment, ruminating on that. You know about Sparda and his children, despite it not being entirely common knowledge on Fortuna. Due to your connections and your occupation as a hunter, you’ve heard more about the twins than you’d like to. Dante is more known with the fact he’s been a prolific hunter for years now, with his business ‘Devil May Cry’. His twin though, from what you can recall, is unknown, non-existent. All that's been said is his blade is quick and deadly, and has been missing for quite some time.

Neither of them, from what you can glean from what knowledge you have on them, seem the type to have a child by accident. But your weapon ‘Pluto’s Judgement’ isn’t one to lie, despite its hatred of you and humans in general. You rub your hand down your face at the information you’ve been given, of course you’d somehow end up with a relative (maybe grandchild?!) of Sparda. The Savior of this stupid, stupid island.

You softly sigh in resignation, this kid is your responsibility and even with some stupid heritage, you’ll take care of him. You crouch down to the weapon and pat the bottom of it, “Thanks for the warning, even if you hate me I appreciate it.”

“Hands off thine wench, disgusting humans such as thy shan’t grace thee with touch!” it shutters in disgust, “Tis difficult enough for thou when in combat, but tis a given with thine’s state. Beyond’r that, thy must keep thee hands off thou!”

You stand back up, “Okay okay, jeez.”

You walk back to your bedroom as ‘Pluto’ finally quiets down and ‘sleeps’. Your feel pad across the wooden room and you reach your ajar bedroom door. On your bed, Nero is curled up in the cradle of bedding you made and something about the sight makes your heart swell. As you approach the bed getting ready to lay down, you remember that you have a camera somewhere in one of your many old boxes. You glance at Nero and feel a need to have pictures of the kid, you’ll be one of those parents who have an album full of memories. You return to your closet and find your camera tucked in with a bunch of old tech you’ve kept. It’s an older polaroid camera you found at one of the antique shops over in Redgrave, you’ll likely have to buy some i-film for it later but it should still have some left in it.

You hold up the camera above Nero to get the best picture you can, and click! It gives a faint flash (the flash was mildly broken when you bought it and that fact alone made it better, bright flashes ruin pictures for you) over the baby and it soon ‘prints’ out the picture with that signature noise. You fan the image a bit before placing both on your nightstand. You finally tuck yourself into bed, curling your body closer to Nero.

Everything will be fine. You’ll manage, because that’s what you’ve been doing your entire life. You’ll make sure this kid is taken care of. Tomorrow you’ll get everything you need to take care of Nero for the foreseeable future. Everything will work out.

end note: okay so yeah I hope this is good!! i've been writing it on and off for like a week,

ALSO if ur curious about the weapon, it may or may not be a part of Mundus that broke off when Dante fought him in DMC1. I'm still deciding if I want it to have a connection to Mundus/DMC story at all or if it should be it's own thing. It's called 'Pluto's Judgement' because thats (according to the wiki) one of Mundus' monikers, and pluto is the roman god of death and yeah-

As you step outside, you’re hit by the silence. You’ve forgotten how quiet mornings of mass were, considering you typically take the day for missions. You decide to make your way towards a park nearby, it would provide you comfort and give Nero a better look at the world outside. Speaking of Nero, his head is resting on your chest but it turns to take in all of the new things. A soft smile graces your face. Your shoes lightly scuff against the concrete sidewalks that line the intricately designed homes. 

You end up in front of an immaculately taken care of park, grass perfectly cut, same with the bushes. The trees placed in a meticulous fashion, the neatness of it all set you off but you’ll take whatever nature you can find in Fortuna. You find a bench to sit down at and you set Nero down into your lap, facing outwards from you so he can take in the surroundings. Hands curl around his torso to make sure he can squirm without risking him falling, with one petting the hair on his cute head.

You curl a bit of the growing hair around a finger, furrowing your brow at it. His white hair will become an issue later on, for now it could be passed off as platinum blonde hair. But as he grows up it will more than likely become a source of shame due to the… connections such light hair brings up. You try to remember your lessons from the church of why such a color was so loathed.

You sit within the stifling classroom, you back as straight as you can make it. Each student looks the same. Except you. Your hair stuffed into the hood, making the bottom bulge oddly. You had yet to receive any of the church’s clothes, so your light blue dress-shirt stood out. Girls had their hair short or put up, with long modest dresses. The boys had short cropped hair with tunic and pants.

The Lady of the Order paced side to side at the blackboard; droning about the worship of The Savior. She eventually comes to the topic of ill omens, one of which was white hair. “Should you see any with white hair, avoid them. White hair is the sign of demons, of those unholy. Of those unworthy of The Savior’s light.” She speaks with authority but… you had questions. Your hand raises, and it takes a moment for her to notice you. “Yes-?” She says your name with mild disdain, you are an outsider afterall.

You hesitate, “Ah-” but decide you want to know, to satiate your curiosity “Why… why is white hair a bad omen? Why are they unworthy?”

She stares at you, as if you’re an idiot to question such a thing. You wilt at the sight. “Those with such pale hair are seen as disrespectful towards the legacy of Sparda, those who try to mimic the Savior can only be demonic in nature. Attempting to trick us loyal followers into sin.”

You nod, but in the back of your mind all you can think is how it resembles pure starlight; the most holy thing imaginable.

You come back to reality from the reminiscing, focusing onto the birds that have crowded the trail in front of you. Most are songbirds, pecking near the grass for seeds. But a raven stands out from them, taking small hops towards a nearby trashcan. It seems to notice your stare and proceeds to let out a low croak. That scares the songbirds away and just leaves it. Poetic, you suppose. Nero simply reaches his arms towards the corvid in question, not scared by the raven who decides to ignore the food in the trash in favor of hopping over to the two of you. It tips and tilts its head at Nero, its own child-like curiosity needing to be fed. They stare at each other and you wonder what the two are thinking, up until the church bells ring, signaling the end of the mass.

The crow croaks and crows in response to the loud chime before taking off into the skies, and Nero whines and twists from the loud and intruding sound. You coo at the squirming baby, “shhh, it’s okay. I understand, I've never liked those bells anyways. Too bad your friend flew off, hm? I’m sure you’ll meet him again.” You tickle your finger under his chin.

It will be a bit until all shops open for the day but it would probably be best to get a headstart to one of the many stores you’ll have to visit today. You stand up and try to stretch your legs a bit to disperse the mild tingling from your legs falling asleep. The closest shop to the park is your favorite antique/thrift shop, run by someone who was originally from Redgrave who came to Fortuna. He’s an older gentleman with an even older wife, both run the shop during the week. They’re the friendliest people on the island towards you, ever since you were a kid they’ve helped you. Hopefully they’ll provide a discount or two for your current situation.

You leave the immaculately put together park and start your way towards the shop. The silence from before broken up by the quiet steps and hushed murmurs of various devout Order members. The empty streets rapidly becoming crowded, leaving you to dance between people while clutching a baby on your chest. 

You can see the sign of the shop; “Cetriolo’s Curiosities”. The rustic yet whimsical nature of the store always brings a smile to your face. Unfortunately for you, the sign in front reads ‘closed’. The couple haven’t returned just yet. You huff at the glass display but resign yourself to waiting a bit longer, bouncing in place to help calm Nero from the noise and crowded street. 

Stares burn into your clothes, people covered in the traditional hoods whisper, they stare, they judge. They’re more than likely picking you apart within their minds, how your hood is down, how ill-fit your clothes are, how the child you have is ill-dressed. You aren’t *their* perfection. One of the many reasons you stopped coming into town around this time, or at all if you’re being honest. 

In the static of your thoughts, you faintly hear your name being called. Your ignore it, assuming it’s for someone else, no one really knows or cares to remember you. Until a gentle hand lands on your shoulder, causing you to violently jolt upright and stare at whoever wanted your attention that badly. It’s an older woman with short red-brown hair, cradling her own baby against her chest. Her name is faded in memory but you remember her being one of the main Ladies of the orphanage. Next to her is an older child, hood half covering his furrowed face. 

“It’s been so long-!” She smiles, revealing her delicate yet elegant wrinkles. “You’ve been so elusive these days, I’m only ever able to catch a slight glance of you around town!.” 

She was nice, you guess, she was never outright hostile towards you or other outsiders but it wasn’t like she was going out of her way to interact with you. Most of the orphanage workers were like that, you guess, they do their job as caretakers and that carries only so far outside of a workplace. You rack through your memory to try and recall her name… Veronica? No, no… Vera? Not that either..

Ah! Valerie. 

“You know, I wish you would come to more of The Savior’s Mass events. You could do with some socialization-” Valerie pauses, seemingly finally noticing the fact you have another (smaller) human with you. “Oh my Savior! You had a child!” The woman nearly screeches, causing you to wince “When-? Wha-? WHO-?!”

You very quickly put down any notion that you were the one to birth the kid, “He’s not mine, a…  relative… of mine recently passed and I was the only one of kin left to take care of him.” 

It was plausible enough to work as a lie, not like anyone was going to delve that deep into it. It seems to work, Valerie gasping at your woven story and pats you lightly on the shoulder in a form of condolence. “That’s unfortunate, it must be difficult for you right now. I don’t know what I would do if I had to raise little Kyrie and Credo all on my own without my husband.” 

All you can do is conceal your grimace and nod along with her. Stars above you don’t know how you dealt with this type of thing for nearly a decade. The woman’s youngest gives a soft cry, at what? you’re unsure. But that seems to cause Valerie to light up. 

“Oh! Since you don’t have any support in such trying times, and will probably be working hard to keep yourself and this little one afloat-” you brace yourself for whatever random suggestion is about to come from the lady’s mouth, “Why not bring him to the orphanage?”

“What?” Your voice holds mild suspicion and causes your face to scrunch up slightly.

“I’m not saying give up on him!  It’s just that the Orphanage offers daycare in a way for locals such as you!” She chuckles before gesturing towards her kids, “Plus, the kiddo could get to know mine! I’m sure Kyrie and Credo would appreciate a new friend!”

Your head tilts down to look at Nero who’s futzing with the laces of your shirt, and take in the suggestion. Having a way for Nero to be taken care of and able to socialize while you’re on missions would be incredibly useful. Trying to wrangle one of your neighbors into babysitting wouldn’t end well, plus (in theory) you could save a bit of money this way too.

However… you remember how the older kids were prone to bullying. Year after year they’d get restless from anger and disappointment at not being adopted and took that out on the young kids who couldn't defend themselves. Workers and volunteers had to break up a fight nearly everyday. With Nero’s hair and the fact he’s being raised by an outsider could become a huge point of weakness for bullies to exploit.

Valerie fidgets a bit in place, both from her children getting antsy and the fact you had gone quiet. Your gaze must convey your hesitation at her offer.

“Well, I hope you consider it.” She sighs wispfully, “I better be off, Savior bless you!”

She walks away with her dress elegantly trailing after her.

Leaning back against the glass, you let a sign escape your lips. “What am I going to do with you…” You whisper the rhetorical question down to Nero. A soft chime rings from the door next to you and it’s the couple, opening the door and getting the store ready for the day. You attempt a wave but they’ve already gone inside. After a few minutes, the sign in the display flips to “Open” and signals that you can now come in and begin shopping. 

You gently push open the rustic door and the bell on the top makes the same soft chime of earlier. The shelves are stacked wall to wall with miscellaneous knickknacks and trinkets, with the floor cluttered much in the same fashion, leaving only barely enough room to wall. You make your way towards the back, finding the small section dedicated to donated clothes. It has coats, dress shirts, pants, etc. all worn down by time and love. You poke around a bit but don’t have any luck finding any baby clothes. You shrug and decide to simply go and ask Mr. Cetriolo’s himself; maybe it’s just hidden away or simply in a different spot. Approaching the cash register, you see Mr. Cetriolo getting his till ready for the day, not quite noticing you yet. 

You softly clear your throat to get his attention, his head tilts in your direction and his old green eyes shine at the sight of you. His back straightens and he opens his arms out wide, “Kiddo! It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you,”

He walks around the desk and begins the motion of a hug but pauses. His gaze takes in your entire self and notices Nero against your chest. His eyes somehow sparkle at the sight of the kid, he was always a man who loved kids- “Who’s this little guy?” His voice has barely contained excitement, he kneels down to get a better look at him and reaches a hand to lightly pinch Nero’s cheek “His name is Nero, I’m.. uh, taking care of him after a relative passed.” You readjust him on your chest, feeling him slip down a bit. 

Mr. Centriolo wilts slightly but still keeps a bright smile on his old face, rubbing his weathered fingers against Nero’s cheek. “Well in that case, at least he has a person like you to take care of him.”

You purse your lips a bit, but give a small smile “I was wondering if you had any baby clothes? Or maybe other related things? I’m doing my best to get what I need to properly take care of him. Considering I wasn’t really ever anticipating this..” He nods and gestures for you to follow him deeper into the store, under a shelf full of wooden toys, used books, a trinket or two is a solid wooden box; inside is plenty of clothes, ranging from baby to probably toddler if you were to guess. Eyes scan the entire box, see various things you could grab for Nero but ultimately you pick up the entire box with your other hand. “How much for all of these?” Cetriolo chuckles at the display, “Ah for you kid? I’d say… maybe-” he taps a finger against his chin facial hair, “30 euro? That sounds reasonable.”

You owlishly blink at the low cost, only 30? You hesitate a bit but ultimately don’t argue, you aren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. So you simply nod and bring the crate up to the front, or try to; He grabs the box from your hands and moves towards his counter, leaving you in the aisle. You call out to him, “I’ll keep looking for other things I need if that’s okay?” You get a faint ‘go ahead!’. Walking around you grab a few wooden and plastic toys scattered around, you also find one of those chest baby carriers hidden away; the material faded and torn in some places but still usable. While looking around you spot a music box. The outside is a standard rectangular shape with ornate shapes carved into the wood, and gold lining as accents. It’s painted in a blue and purple color, almost gradient. You gently open the top and gasp, it’s an automata music box from what you can tell. It has gears and mechanisms visible, covered with a track of some kind. You tilt the box around until you find the crank, and turn it. Upon turning it, two figures emerge from the tangle of mechanics, one larger holding onto the other like a waltz. As the music plays, the figures dance together along the track. The top of the music box has a painting of…. a demon and a human. Ah.

This was made as tribute to Sparda and his wife. It's an ornate dance for the two. You feel Nero squirm and it seems that the music box has caught his attention, his blue eyes entranced by the sight of the automata moving around. One of his hands reaches for it and you gently grab it to prevent him from touching the moving parts, afraid of him getting pinched by the gears and moving metal (and you were also minorly worried about damaging such a precious item). 

You bring all of your items to the front to finally pay for all of it. You leave the music box to the side, a bit apprehensive at buying it at the risk of it being truly priceless. Centriolo looks down at all your buying and notices the music box, he picks it up and looks at it closely. “You know we’ve had this in the store for quite awhile now, it’s gorgeous so I’m not sure why no one’s takin’ an interest in it.” He peeks at you while examining the box.

“Why don’t you just have it?” He gestures towards you with the box

“Mr. Centriolo, no I couldn't, it must be worth a fortune. The automata alone makes it priceless-” You stammer slightly, not wanting to rob the man of something so expensive. “You know what’s more priceless, kid?” He sets the box back down on the counter right in front of you. “Happiness. Joy. That type’a thing. Your kiddo seems to really like this box, and so do you. So have it, I won’t mourn its loss.” 

You gape a bit but decide to give up the fight. If he wants you to have it then fine. You huff a laugh. You hand over the money to pay for everything. You look down into the crate of clothes and grab a blue onesie. “Ah, would you mind if before I leave I put Nero in this? I think he’d appreciate an actual outfit compared to a t-shirt fashioned into one.”

Mr. Cetriolo waves his hand at you “Of course! Actually, if you want, I’m sure we have some supplies upstairs that’s typically for our grandkids but you’re welcome to take what you need.” He curls a hand around his mouth to amplify his voice before calling for his wife, “Mi luce! Could you come down, the kiddo is here!” “Which one!” Faintly upstairs you can hear the older woman’s staccato-like voice. “The Redgrave one! Ya’know the one with the long hair!” He yells back to her.

“OH!” Quickly footsteps come down the stairs and there the stout grey-haired woman appears. Her homedress is covered by a flour-dusted apron, she was probably making bread for dinner before being called down. She wipes her hands on her apron and rag and looks you up and down. She notices Nero and quite nearly squeals at the sight of him, you can’t deny she is a woman who loves babies. Once her hands are clean she swipes Nero right out of your hands, leaving you scrambling from the now lack of weight from your arms. “Oh look at this precious il bebè! Such cute cheeks and big eyes!” She fawns over the baby who is babbling and laughing at all that is happening. She then jolts still and turns back to you, and you get slightly nervous.

“When did you have a child?” The way she phrases it almost feels like an accusation, “You didn’t fool around with someone you weren’t married with were you? Who’s the father?”

“N-No one, I-” You feel a bit flustered at the questioning, it's like you were being scolded for something you didn’t do, “He’s not mine, not biologically anyways. A relative of mine recently passed and I was the only one left to care for him.”

She immediately softens and her expression is full of sympathy for you, “Oh poor child, was- Was it your brother?” She gently asks. You stifle a grimace, not prepared for a mention of your sibling. “No, thankfully he’s still alive and kicking. It was a…cousin of mine.” Mrs. Cetriolo bounces Nero on her hip, “So what did you need kiddo?” “I was hoping I could dress Nero properly and maybe.. Uh.. see if you have any diapers?” you whisper the last part.

“Oh of course! We have plenty of supplies for some of our grandkids, but we are more than willing to lend you some. Let’s get this bebè all set. She starts going upstairs and you follow, today has been one hell of a day. But you think this is the start of something good. Great even for you and this little kid you’ve taken in. You smile.

You wake up to soft crying, you tilt your head from you pillow and see Nero unraveled from the blanket you wrapped around him, still lying in the bedding. You slowly push yourself up and glance at a clock on the wall; 6 am. You stretch out your arms before grabbing Nero, not really upset at the early awakening you're used to waking up early despite your night owl nature. You still have a distaste for waking up early but it could be worse. You hold Nero to your chest as you stand from the bed, before walking towards the kitchen. Nero has quieted a bit but you're sure he still has a problem you need to solve. You can tell by the lack of smell that it isn’t a mess you need to clean up, so it’s likely he’s hungry. 

You have no clue what he can eat, from a look, you think he’s about 6 months to a year old, so he probably doesn’t need a strict diet of formula. You open your fridge and try to look for something you can make into food for the kid. You spot some berries you had bought on a whim, they had started to go soft but they aren’t moldy. You grab the containers of raspberries and strawberries and place them next to Nero. You grab a bowl and fork and start mashing them down as much as possible, taking care to smash the seeds down as well to prevent choking. Once mashed as much as you possibly can, you replace the fork with a spoon so it’s easier to feed the lil guy. You scoop some up while getting Nero propped up just enough for you to feed him without worrying about him immediately choking. He pauses his whimpers and looks at the spoon you hold in front of him, almost confused. 

Ah. 

He might not realize it’s food. 

“Nero,” You drag out the ‘o’ of his name, “it’s food! see!”

You take the spoon to your mouth, dramatically opening your mouth and feed yourself the berry mush. You then scoop up some more and offer it to him, he takes a second but eventually copies what you did; opening his mouth as wide as he can, before closing his mouth around the spoon. You repeat with little mess and fuss, until  the bowl is empty. You gently pat his face with the towel hanging from your fridge handle, doing your best to clean off the red juices from his face. Nero coos and babbles in content, and you copy his nonsense noises at him. Before lightly jolting at how easy you've slipped into cringe parent nonsense when you've only had the kid for less than 24 hours. 

You pet Nero’s white fluff of hair in resignation, kid is too cute for his own good. You pick up the used dishes and toss them into the sink for later, you have some money planning to do. You grab Nero and move to the (lightly) blood stained couch, and sit in the least stained section before grabbing the notepad that sit on the modest coffee table, as well as one of the various pens scattered across its surface. You’re going to need to attempt to budget for today.

You look down at Nero who’s comfortably sitting in your lap, “You’re going to be an expensive baby aren’t you?” you remark at him.

You first list out what you’ll need to buy immediately; food, diapers, clothes, and toys. The primary but less pressing needs; a crib, bedding for said crib, a carrier of some kind, bath related items. 

You sigh slightly at the list, this all required a trip outside, and you can’t really leave a baby alone. You don’t want him to be overstimulated by everything outside from Fortuna's worship day,--

Wait.

Shit, it’s a day of worship.

You rub your hands down your face in mental exhaustion, this means you’re going to have to wait for shops to open. They won’t open up till noon due to the worship of the Savior. The damned Savior. You scoff, mentally throwing every expletive at the horrid timing of everything. You tilt your head towards a wall and the time reads; 6:46 am. You slam your head back.

16 minutes and 5 hours till you can get the supplies you need, and the ferries for Redgrave don’t open till 9 and take an hour or two to reach the destination. You’ve going to have to scrounge up what you can from old boxes and makeshift anything you can find. 

Nero tugs on your hoodie, reminding you of how you’re still dressed in sleepwear. You direct your attention back on Nero as he seems to be occupying himself with touching and tugging the fleece-like material. His little face scrunched in focus, as if trying to decode the fabric and how it feels. You chuckle lightly at the display before bringing your hand up and smoothing his brow. He tilts his head in your palm up at your face, in the morning light his blue-grey eyes have speckles of amber within the iris. His eyes will probably lighten up as he gets older, you think, making them closer to an ice blue rather than the current storm-ish grey in his eyes.

It was almost time for the choir performance, you were rushing along the ports and beaches to make it in time. Savior knows you’d be lectured to high hells if you were late. As you run in your modest shoes across the uneven ground you glance at the stormy coast. For the past day or two it’s been all gloom in the skies, from what you understood Redgrave was suffering a demonic attack. With its feature being the massive tower that reaches toward the heavens.

You had been unconsciously slowing down as you took a moment to admire the grey pillar, the details you could barely make out caught your attention. It reminded you of Roman architecture, and the whale-shaped creature that circled it made you think it resembled a holy structure. A beast to protect from those unworthy to make the climb up- 

Rain started to fall on your white hood, just as flashes of light started on top of the tower. 

Two small hands slap your face out of a memory demanding your attention back.

“Oi!” You yelp at the sudden sensation of being slapped by baby hands, “Don’t hit me, you little miscreant-”

He does it again, seemingly finding joy in the action. You lightly tap his cheeks with the tips of your fingers in retaliation. All he does is give you a giggle, and all you can do is laugh in return. You repeat this a few more times before Nero loses interest in the interaction, and you take it as a sign to get you both dressed as best you can. You move both him and yourself back to the bedroom and you begin your search for stuff you could fashion into clothes for Nero. You walk to your dresser and start rummaging through for the smallest t-shirt you might own. All you find is large sleep shirts that would absolutely dwarf him in worn cotton fabric. Until you stumble upon an old dark shirt, with holes ripped from use near the hems. 

It was a shirt you’ve had since you were a kid with the graphics torn and rubbed off in spots, it was based on a cartoon you half remember loving. It has seen better days for sure, but it would work for its new purpose. You walk over to where you set Nero, half wormed out of the blanket already. You unwrap him from the blanket, resecure the make shift-diaper around his small waist, before taking the shirt and putting it over his little head. He makes a small noise of distress at the sudden darkness (or maybe you disappearing from view for a second?) but soon you have the shirt pulled down and his head free from the fabric. He coos once he can see again and his little arms reach to grab for you. You gently grab his hands and shake them lightly, you then fold the bottom of the shirt around his legs and waist. you hold it in place but realize you need something to secure it…

Whipping your head around to see if you can spot anything to secure the t-shirt, your eyes land on a handful of hair ties. Ideally you’d use safety pins to do this but hair ties will do the trick. You roll the ties onto each wrist and start rolling the sides of the shirt into itself until it fits snugly against Nero’s skin. The tie wraps around the bundle of fabric to create a tight-ish cone shape and that is repeated on the other side. Stepping away from your work, you wince a bit at the roughness of the whole look but simply shrug and leave it. Once you get your hands on proper clothes it’ll be fine. You peek at the clock and it’s 8:05. Still plenty of time to go…

Since Nero is now ‘dressed’ to the best of your ability, you turn back towards your dresser and closet. Since it’s a day of worship, you’d be expected to be dressed in your best garb. Normally you wouldn’t even bother, but if you dress casual today the amount of looks and glares will be plentiful. You’d rather not drag attention to your newly acquired child. Shuffling through your dresser drawers, you struggle to find what you’re looking for. Until your hands hit a box you’ve long since tucked away in your drawers.

Chucking all the clothes in the way of the box, you tug the gift box out of its corner. It comes out at the cost with your hands and box roughly slamming into your forehead. You release your hold and quickly cradle your head from the impact, with the box dropping onto the hardwood. It opens up from its crash to reveal dust-covered church cloth, with the hood typical of Fortunites laying atop the pile of halfheartedly folded clothes. You rub your forehead a bit before reaching for the (ancient) clothing.

You strip yourself of your sleepwear and mentally prep yourself to wear (what likely will be) ill-fitting clothing. You flick the offending garments a bit to hopefully make the dust release its hold on the fabric, before finally putting them on. The shirt is a bit tight but isn’t bursting at the seams, while the pants remain fairly lax. You’re mildly grateful that by default the clothes are baggy from the get go. You pick up the finishing piece; the hood. The stupid hood. You’ve always hated the damned things, it makes the island look more like a cult than a proper religion. Plus they never could hold all of your hair, making it spill out awkwardly or make the hood be shaped oddly. 

It’s quickly secured around your neck, a motion that was done thousands of times at one point, and the hood is pulled over your head. You look over at a mirror next to the dresser and sigh. You look perfect. You both loathe that fact and grant yourself mild blessings.

You hear rustling behind you on the bed and you turn to face the noise. 

Oh! 

Nero was crawling around the bed! You don't know why such a simple and basic thing makes your heart soften. You remember the camera lying on the nightstand and decide to take another picture. Nero lands himself among your pillows and is half propped up by one while also crawling, its an odd but cute position he’s taken. The camera clicks and performs a weak flash before the telltale sputtering of film comes. The picture prints out and you flick it side to side to help it develop, placing it next to the first one on the nightstand with the camera.

You pat yourself down to try and dispel any lingering dust from the surface of the cotton fabric. You eventually give up, knowing the only way for it to all get removed is by washing the garments. You step towards Nero with the intention of picking him up and getting ready to leave; you still had time to waste and you’d rather go wander with Nero then sit in the house waiting– but when Nero looks up at your hood obscured face he starts to cry. Like. Full on sobbing. You’re stunned for a moment before quickly flicking the hood down, letting your face become visible again and your hair cascades into a curtain around your head and him. “Hey, hey, shhhh.” You try to quell his tears by lifting him into your arms and holding him in front of you, “It’s me, little Nero, it’s just me.”

You bring him closer to your body and start bouncing on your heels a bit, his big stormy eyes look up at you and slowly his tears stop rolling down his chubby cheeks. Your hand gently rubs the tears from his face. His little hands grip your shirt as if trying to make sure you don’t ‘disappear’ again. The palm rubbing against his cheek tilts his head up towards your head and you land a gentle kiss to his forehead. That seems to calm him down completely. 

“I’m not going anywhere Nero, not in a million years.” you whisper into his wispy star-white hair, a promise that hangs in the air for a moment before settling into soft silence. 

You play with the ties on your hood, debating. Should you rid yourself of the offending garment for Nero (since he isn’t old enough to have proper object permanence), or continue to wear it and upset the kid? You consider it for only a moment, and you decide to leave it draped on your neck and shoulders. You’ll take any excuse to not fully wear the thing. While other worshipping Fortunites will still glare and question, the fact it's on you at all will lessen the blows. Plus, the kid acts as a legitimate excuse.

You make your way to the front door of your apartment. You do your best to put on your boots one handedly, cause you to hop around weirdly to tug the shoe up your leg. The movement seems to provide plenty of entertainment to the baby on your hip, just going off of the happy noises and laughs coming from him. Your smile at that, even while you struggle and hold back your usual curses at such a predicament. Faintly, a stuttered hum comes from the side of your door and you see ‘Pluto’s Judgement’ laughing at you! All you can do is glare at the offending hammer.

You eventually wrangle the boots onto your feet with little fanfare, but you crouch down to ‘Pluto’ and rip a primary feather from one of its various wings. It transforms into a delicate yet warped dagger that has an eye decorating its pommel. ‘Pluto’ lets out a sharp warble at the sudden pain– “THY DAMNED WENCH! HOW DARE THOU LAY THINE HANDS UPON MY DIVINE FORM!-”

Your foot stomps atop the screaming weapon, crushing it down into the floor. “Quiet, you biblical monstrosity. Otherwise I’ll turn you into a small, everyday hammer, only delegated to hitting nails.” Your voice is quiet and threatening.

‘Pluto’s Judgement’ quickly quiets down and utters a barely comprehensible apology, before mumbling what was likely a myriad of demonic curses. You sheathe the dagger into your boot, just in case. It’s unlikely there will be a demon attack today (and even if there was, the Order would likely take care of it), you don’t want to risk anything. Especially with the fact you technically have a child of Sparda with you. You look down at Nero before pushing your door open, ready to take on what is likely going to be one hell of a day.