#post dmc4

Anyone normal would have told the kid the truth when they allowed him to keep the sword of his father. They would have told him the significance of the blade. They would have hugged the boy, cause he was a gift and he was all the family they had left. They wouldn’t have left with two years of radio silence.

  Venturing away from Fortuna was quite a feat for the youth as he ventured down the busy streets of Redgrave city.  It had been several months since the fall of the Order of Sword, and slowly life had begun to settle for Nero and Kyrie; however, there was something the youth needed to know, and the only person who he knew who could help him was a certain demon hunter.  Thus upon entering the doors of the Devil May Cry, Nero couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy in the unfamiliar territory. 

“There’s a reason you trusted me with this,” he held out the Yamato, icy pools peering directly into familiar azure hues. 

  Shifting, he had rehearsed in his mind what he would say; however, in the face of the older demon hunter he found himself mute.  A small sigh of frustration escaped the older teen as he allowed the Yamato to be swallowed back by his Devil Bringer, averting his gaze as he gazed down at the wooden floorboards of the shop.  What was he even doing here? 

“I want to know what I am,” he stated as bluntly as he could.  “And I think you’re the only person who can answer that question.” 

                                           The heat was sweltering. 

  Standing in the shade of the garage, Nero toiled away at the van he had procured for himself and Kyrie.  Standing on his step stool, Nero was hard at work repairing the engine, trying to make the vehicle work to some degree.  Ever since the fall of the Order, the couple had slowly begun to pick their lives up, dedicating themselves to the restoration of Fortuna as well as to making their own paths without the burden of the cult upon their backs. 

  Wiping the sweat from his brow, Nero let out a small, content sigh, gazing down at the old motor.  It wasn’t fancy, by any means, but it was a home away from home of sorts.  A van scrapped at the last city that had called for Nero’s aid in dispatching demons.  Hell, it had been Dante who mentioned the job to him, though why he didn’t just just take it made no sense to the young man. 

  There was a lot about Dante that made him an enigma. 

  Shedding his newly bought denim jacket, Nero ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face.  Perhaps he should consider cutting it, it was getting too long for his liking, after all.  Slicking his hair back, the sound of footsteps venturing closer caught Nero’s attention, causing him to turn to face the sudden intruder. 

“Huh, long time no see,” Nero felt the edges of his lips curl into a smile.  “Got business in Fortuna, Dante?  Or are you just happy to see me?”

Send "you're warm" to see my muse's reaction to yours randomly cuddling up to them.  // Accepting

  The pair had been out shopping.  The autumn chill hung heavy in the air as soft coastal gusts blew amber leaves across cobbled stone.  It was a crisp day, certainly, with even cooler nights which made leaving bed in the morning all the more difficult.  Musing, Nero couldn’t help the small smile that formed on his lips, watching as Kyrie led them to wherever they needed to go. 

  It wasn’t until the auburnette paused in her tracks at a sudden gust that bustled by the pair that Nero noticed something was ever so slightly off.  Turning to him, she was quick to press herself to him, burying herself in his coat.  For a moment, Nero stood still, lifting his arms so that Kyrie could fit comfortably inside his coat.  A small, heartfelt, chuckle escaped the hunter as he wrapped his arms around her small frame, pulling the edges of his jacket around her. 

“Told you, you should have worn a jacket,” not that he minded, a small chuckle escaped Nero as he leaned down to press a small kiss to her forehead.  “What else do we need to do?  When we’re done, we can go get some tea or coffee.  My treat.”

  The scent of smoke enveloped the night air like a thick blanket, coating their surroundings and suffocating the view of the night’s sky.  Golden embers erupted from nearby establishments, the heat of the flames was engulfing as fiery tendrils reached for the two men venturing onto the scene, the destruction that lay before them already so great within the demon’s wake.  Turning to look at the senior slayer, Nero couldn’t help but feel a little heated at the situation, his hand tightening around the hilt of his blade as he took a step forward. 

  This is what it meant to be a demon slayer. 

“Guess we’re on the right track,” Nero glanced down to his arm, deep trenches of azure glowing with confirmation of the demon’s presence.  A bitter laugh escaped the teen, shaking his head as he tried to dismiss the entropy that surrounded them.  “I got this, you can hang back...---”

  Nero rolled his shoulders, taking a step forward as he looked back at Dante with a small, wry, grin.  Ever since joining the Devil May Cry agency, Nero had been itching to go on an actual mission.  With the clean up of Fortuna underway, when Dante had called him to join him on his first mission, Nero had practically jumped on the opportunity. 

  It was finally time for him to draw his blade once more.

“And leave this to me.”

  It had been some off months since the fall of The Order.  Fortuna, still seized by the occasional demonic attacks, had slowly begun to settle, life had seemingly returned to the way it had been so many years before.  It was almost a somber sight, the decaying remains of the church, not since touched since The Festival of the Sword.  Perhaps there were aspects of time that were best left to fade away into the past. 

  Nero had been toiling away, aiding where he could with the reconstruction of Fortuna.  Of course, there were some aspects of the town that would never be the same, he had accepted that, but he still had to make the city right for the kids to grow up in.  Throwing his jacket to the side, Nero pushed aside some rubble with the help of his Devil Bringer, sitting back with a huff as he rubbed sweat from his brow. 

  Just as he was about to take a break, a burning pain resonated through his arm, bringing his attention to the deep groves of cerulean that glowed with an ephemeral light.  Someone, or something, with high amounts of demonic energy was near.  It was secretive, calculating, causing the argent haired teen to quirk a brow before studying his surroundings. 

“You can come out, Dante,” he huffed.  “I know you’re here!”