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madimpossibledreamer...sorry about the length; this thing became a monster. But I don't want to cut it down or chop it up, so. I started writing this in excitement about the time I learned of the DMC5 announcement, as the following two extra AN show, and then again around the time it came out (and then now, of course). It turns out I have a lot of feels about the Sparda family (and yeah, that was confirmed canon in interview before DMC5 came out, it's not a spoiler). Also a lot of feels about DMC4. Like, how does the Order of the Sword work? How did the religion work? What were they going to do with it? That opera scene, plus the "humans have something demons don't". SO MUCH like, almost more feels than the rest of the series except for maybe DMC5 when I get to it and that speech about "maybe somewhere even a devil may cry when they lose a loved one", thank you Lady.
tbf part of the reason I latched onto Nero was my headphones and mp3 player where what got me through high school and college and early mornings at one of my jobs, so there might be a little mild audiophile MUSIC IS COOL geeking out
Devil May Cry
Chapter Summary: Nero gets an unexpected visit.
Word Count: 3892
Rating: Teen
friend!ship Dante & Nero (does it count if you're family?), ship ship Nero/Kyrie (more mentioned than present)
“I’m not in the mood,” he mutters.
“Neither am I, kid,” the wisecracking, infuriating one-time assassin responds, and that—
That catches his attention.
The voice isn’t teasing, or posing, or overconfident, or any of the other things Nero had grown to associate with Dante during their brief acquaintance—it’s world-weary. Which makes Nero even more uneasy, because it’s an unknown, and he’s got no clue what to do with a serious Dante.
“What do you want?” he whispers in an undertone, watching warily, and the man chuckles. It’s fake.
“Some pizza, and maybe some conversation. It’s been a long day on both our ends, from what I can see from here.” Perceptive, though. He’s still perceptive. The jerk.
“I don’t feel like dealing with you.” If Kyrie was here, she’d be yelling at him about being unfriendly. It’s a good thing she’s not here.
“Nah, you’re not gonna send me away.” There’s that lazy smile, that infuriating assurance. Annoying, but it’s almost a relief to see that one.
“Why the hell not?” Nero doesn’t care anymore. He’s going to swear whether or not Dante thinks it’s appropriate, or whatever.
“Because the last time we met, you wanted answers, and you’re not gonna send me away when I finally offer to give them,” the white-haired devil hunter explains logically, and. Impressive. Nero didn’t even think he knew what logic was, really. “I’m not sure where you want to talk about this,” he continues, as if he hadn’t even noticed Nero gaping. “You might have guessed this already, but Fortuna isn’t exactly the kind of place suited for this. ‘Course, if it’s elsewhere, we’re either eating first or taking our pizzas to go.”
“Food first,” Nero insists firmly, and Dante doesn’t argue, just nodding once like it was the only respectable choice.
He’s creepily quiet, which is a problem because it just leaves Nero with his thoughts. He’s not at peace, though. When the server comes back and glares his feet off the table, he does take them down, but his knee starts bouncing, and Nero can feel the nervous, reckless energy the half-devil’s radiating from here. It’s kind of like sitting next to a roaring fireplace, if that fireplace was about nine hundred degrees too hot and was very uncomfortable to sit near.
Nero might not be the braniac powerhouse Credo would’ve liked, but he is capable of putting a few facts together on his own. Like those crazy things Sanctus was spouting about ‘one of Sparda’s blood’. Like their appearances. Like the fact that Dante had said something about ‘keeping it in the family’ before just letting him hang on to Yamato like it was no big deal. He’s honestly not sure how he’d feel, if it turns out Dante’s his old man.
As much as he likes to bitch about the guy, a part of him has always wanted family. He knows it’s not unusual among orphans. When the other kids hadn’t been teasing him or bullying him (or getting him in trouble for what he’d done in retaliation), there had been a few quiet conversations, wondering about their real parents. Nero had always assumed they’d died in a demon attack, but maybe not.
“How’s Kyrie?” Dante asks abruptly, and Nero nearly snarls.
“She’s taken and she’s too young for you, old man,” he responds, voice clipped, Devil Bringer curling into a fist by his side.
“Hey, no, kid, not what I meant. She’s important to you. It’s why I’m asking.” He pauses when the server comes back to practically inhale a slice of pizza before he continues. “And I can see why. Aside from that little scene in the cathedral. So she’s not a physical fighter. She’s tough when it counts. Kinda like Patty.”
It takes Nero a few seconds to parse that Dante really isn’t interested and hitting on her, another to realize that, with the awkwardness, this is his attempt at small talk. Which he’s honestly not very good with. Sure, Nero didn’t tend to have many even in the Order who were too friendly with him, but he could at least manage a conversation here and there. Who did Dante have? The blonde and the brunette, neither of which seemed like they were too interested in general chatting. And he realizes something else—
“Who’s Patty?” he questions, curious despite himself.
“She’s a little lady who practically adopted me. You’ll probably meet her at some point.” He’s being more open than Nero can remember and it throws him off. Dante seems to notice, because he backsteps. “If you’re interested after I say my piece, that is. If not, I’ll be outta your hair.”
“I find that hard to believe. You were just obnoxiously there every time I turned around for a while,” the Holy Knight snorts at the idea, but it’s half testing the ground.
“Look, I only every really go where I’m unwanted when there’s demons involved. Not a fan of the world ending. Strawberry sundaes, pizza, and humanity are all part of this world.” He continues to chow down on the pizza like he hasn’t eaten for a week—maybe he’d dealt with a group of demons along the way, that always made Nero hungry enough to eat a couple pizzas—acting oblivious to the stares, even though given his fighting skills, his situational awareness isn’t nearly that bad. They’ve probably recognized him, given the fear in some of the looks. The PR debacle had been salvaged by Aloisa, the official story that Sanctus had perverted the aim of the Order for his own ends, and agents sent by Sparda had stepped in to stop him. Something very much like the truth, and like the good little sheep they were, the citizens of Fortuna had bought it, but the fear and trepidation remained.
It’s enough to make him think. Maybe it was the truth, since Dante hadn’t shown his face other than wiping up a few demon incursions that were probably fallout in the first place.
“Did you know he’d survive?” He doesn’t want to elaborate in front of the audience, and from the feeling that the fire just jumped another hundred degrees, Dante doesn’t want to either, but he answers anyway.
“He didn’t feel like a demon to me at the time.” He thought he’d solved it, well, the biggest part of it, anyway. “Trish—you met her in her Gloria outfit—” There’s a smirk that Nero quite honestly finds uncomfortable, along with the memories of that woman, not that he says as much—“…she told me after the fact that there was some kind of Ascension ceremony thing, but he couldn’t have told me at that point without blowing her cover, and I didn’t pay a lot of attention anyway.”
So he really thought that would’ve solved a lot of problems, despite the fact that killing the head of a congregation while church was in session was really dumb—but then, maybe it had been meant as a message? Like, ‘Order of the Sword, I know what you’re up to, and I’m going to stop you?’ He’d really wondered about that.
And after Dante says what he’s going to—probably telling him how he’s related, since he’s almost certainly related—he’s going to ask about the whole Sparda thing and about how he feels about the worship. He’s pretty sure Sanctus meant ‘Son of Sparda’ as literal, but it doesn’t hurt to clarify. In the meantime, though, “…well, I am going to let Kyrie know you’ll be coming over for dinner. She yelled at me the last two times for not inviting you over, and I’m not sitting through that again. And if you pull a disappearing act, you can be the one to explain to her next time when I drag your ass down the street to the apartment.”
The Devil Hunter stills and then smiles. “Who am I to turn down free food? Just one request: no olives.”
Nero pulls out the cell phone and relays the message, quickly getting a cheery reply of affirmation, complete with a smiley face emoticon. From most people, it would be kinda obnoxious, but from Kyrie, well, it’s kinda cute.
“She’s asking how you’ve been, by the way,” Nero states with a fond smile, pocketing the phone (still an utterly odd contraption to the inhabitants of Fortuna, but Kyrie had looked so excited about it on their little trip to the mainland he hadn’t the heart to say no) and placing down the money as he stands. He doesn’t miss how Dante looks a little surprised at this. It’s mostly in the eyes, really, but still. He’s honestly tried not to feel too sorry for how lonely the guy is, but really, the idea that he doesn’t have friends who will pay for him even when he’s broke is kinda disheartening.
Dante launches into a tall tale that is probably more than half true, but even then, he’s not really saying much of anything of consequence. He gets really quiet again once the story’s over, and even when they get out by one of the streams, where it’s quiet enough and there’s no one around, Dante’s either mumbling on about nothing or is silent.
“Look, are you gonna actually say anything or not?” Nero snarls, getting tired of all this hesitation, and to his surprise Dante actually gets angry, too, which—
Wait.
Has he ever seen the guy angry before? He doesn’t think he has, just amused at the world, which is actually kinda…
“Do you find it easy to talk about Credo? It’s not exactly a conversation I have every day, Nero. I’m having trouble figuring out where to begin, and—” Dante sighs heavily before picking up a stone and chucking it across the lake. It skips a few times before sinking into the water.
“A guy you saw as a brother?” he asks sympathetically, trying to skim a stone of his own, and the Devil Hunter laughs mirthlessly.
“Seeing as he was my twin, yeah.” Dante watches the stone and it’s apparently enough to get his thoughts together. “Vergil. His name was Vergil.” He skips another stone, and it occurs to Nero that he can’t remember having ever seen Dante staying still.
“Was?” Nero asks quietly.
There’s that mirthless smile again. “Yeah, past tense. I killed him.” There’s no hesitation to the tone, just an icy sort of emptiness. “He thought strength was the only path to protecting what you cared about, and he went as far as trying to open the portal to the Demon World to get Dad’s power.”
He’d never really said he was Sparda’s son, but—
And wasn’t that what Sanctus had wanted? That whole plot sounded far too familiar—
“I didn’t realize the extent of it until it was too late.” He shakes his head like a dog coming out of the water, pulling his gaze back into the present. To Nero. “Remember, okay, that at the time I was a young and stupid kid. I didn’t really care about all the people getting hurt, not at first. I was just enjoying the fight.”
“I thought you said he tried to open a portal?” Nero tries to get the accusation out of his voice, but he can’t get all the people who had died during the invasion out of his head.
“Hmm, yeah. I never really paid attention to the nonsense the hat guy was spouting. They ever talk about the Temen-ni-Gru?” That sends a chill up Nero’s spine.
He did pay very careful attention to certain of the lectures, though it was more Credo who talked about that. Sparda supposedly sealed the tower, constructed by human cultists in league with devils, as a connection between the human world and the demonic realm. “He tried to raise Temen-ni-Gru?” Okay, he can see killing a sibling to stop them over that, even if, more than anything, he’s always wanted family. Kyrie’s more important than some mythical brother or sister.
Dante’s crossed his arms defensively, stopped trying to skip stones. “Nah, that he succeeded at. Though you’re right on that account, too. He did manage to open a portal, briefly.” A snort. “Just long enough to lose to me and choose to stay in the demon world, be brainwashed by Mundus, and attempt to come back to kill me when Mundus tried to come back. That’s when I killed him, and I didn’t even realize until he’d left his pendant behind.”
What could he really know, huh? Dante’s younger self wasn’t the only idiot. Here’s a guy who’d fought two legendary foes. No wonder, when Sanctus had tried his bullshit, he’d turned up. And incidental to all that was his battle with his brother.
“Why are you telling me all this, Dante?” Because for all of his talking, he hasn’t really gotten to the point. Not yet.
The man flinches, like he hadn’t even when Nero had been punching him in the face. He actually has to close his eyes to find the resolve, when he hadn’t even hesitated once to fight him. “Because I’d never been to Fortuna before. When you planted your feet in my face in that church, you caught my attention, but I wasn’t sure. I’ve never met any other half-dumans before. For all I knew, that’s all the white hair was about. Except the more we fought, the more familiar you felt, and I had to look into it.” He shrugs. “I’m pretty sure Trish knew the whole time and was laughing at me.”
Nero has so many questions, like who is Trish, really and why would she know, but those can wait.
“By the time we fought the second time, I was pretty sure.” He makes a sudden face, the furnace of twitchy back. “Oh, yeah. I run a sort of detective agency, on the mainland, which mostly involves hunting down and killing demons. I don’t like doing the legwork part all too much, but this time there was a pretty good reason for it. I’d found accounts about a guy looking into the stories about Temen-ni-Gru seventeen, eighteen years ago, and your Devil Trigger kind of sealed the deal.”
“My Devil Trigger?” It feels like he’s about to toss himself off a cliff. Funny, since he’s seen Dante do exactly that.
“Well, it’s not exactly…but when you were drawing on the power of Yamato. That blue devil behind you? That looks—looked—like Verge, when he was in his devil form. And of course that religious kook knew the whole time, with that comment about the blood of Sparda.” Dante sighs. “You’re my nephew, kid. I’ve known for a while, and maybe I should’ve told you sooner, but I was still…I’m still trying to figure out the right way to tell you and even now I think I’ve got it wrong.” He glances over and turns alarmed, helping Nero to sit, because suddenly the ground feels a little unstable. “I did get it wrong. I’m sorry, Nero.”
All this time, waiting for an apology, and here he gets one for something that’s not even Dante’s fault. He can’t help but laugh. Like when he’d gained the power—the Devil Trigger. And Dante hadn’t a single qualm when facing hordes of demons, but right now he looks terrified, hovering but unsure of what to do, whether a hug is even appropriate, or whether he should just keep his distance—the laughter turns to tears. Eventually he stops, wiping his eyes with a sleeve. “So, my dad was a madman.”
“Kinda runs in the family. I blame Dad.” Dante only half-sounds like he’s joking. He half-heartedly throws a rock, and it sinks, plunk, into the water. “He knew what he was doing. I don’t want to give the impression he didn’t. But losing Mom…broke both of us. Just in different ways. It sounds weird to say, given what he tried to do, but he was honorable. He cared about a fair fight. And if he’d known about you…I feel like he’d have tried to use you, sure, but he’d protect you, too.”
Nero manages to smile. “You don’t tell Kyrie I cried, and I don’t tell her you made me cry. Deal?”
“…Sounds fair.” The man’s cautious, and Nero snorts at that.
“Relax, I’m not going to stab you again. That’d upset Kyrie, particularly since we’re going to tell her you’re my deadbeat uncle. Besides, I don’t want to have to clean.” He scrambles to his feet and holds out a hand for the guy to take, and…he looks like he’s on the verge of tears, too.
“Look, I was an orphan. I might still have the urge to stab you, but I want you around when I can. It’s something we all talked about.” He pulls his uncle to his feet, and the man’s still oddly serious.
He just shrugs at the stare. “Not like I don’t get it, kid. Patty’s an orphan that just kind of latched on to me, and…” He sighs. “I was in the orphanage, too.”
Nero blinks. “What the hell?” But he’d known…
“Sparda took off, probably to protect us, when I was just a kid, and when Mom died it’s not like I was old enough to take care of myself. Plus at that point, I’d thought Vergil was dead. Where do you think I would’ve ended up, Nero?” He’s cool with following Nero’s lead even as they walk back toward the city.
“Honestly, I didn’t really think about it much.” He’d just been categorized as an annoyance, even if he’d been upgraded to helpful annoyance, in Nero’s head, so he hadn’t bothered thinking about the fact that the man in red had a life, too. Never mind that their meetings had emphasized the ‘devil’ part of it all. Which…huh. Something similar had happened with Sparda, too. They’d emphasized all these great deeds so much, they hadn’t bothered recording, for example, if the guy had ever gone to see a play (they were all the rage in Fortuna, while there are things called ‘movies’ that are popular on the mainland), or what his favorite food was, or anything. Which…
“What kind of music do you like?” It had taken a while to get his headphones replaced, which was a pain in the ass, but he’d been a little mad about Kyrie and there hadn’t really been time to take them off safely.
“What.” Nero glances down, just to make sure he hasn’t turned into a demon somewhere along the way, and other than his arm he still looks perfectly human.
“I’m trying to show you what small talk looks like before we make it there so you don’t embarrass me in front of Kyrie, old man. What kind of music do you like?” Maybe he doesn’t like any type of music, but still, he’s curious.
That smile’s not mocking or sarcastic or anything for once. It’s real and genuine. “Rock, mostly. If you ever feel like visiting the office, it might be a little cliché but I’ve got a record player. I’ve even got a really rare record—you ever heard of Elena Huston?”
“I’ve mostly just listened to what I can find. I guess a lot of it is rock, too. I don’t know too much about music from the mainland.” He only really likes Fortuna music when Kyrie’s singing it. And then, because he’s a little bit curious, “Does record music really sound that much better?”
Dante shrugs, but he’s definitely relaxed. “No clue. I’ve never really listened to it like that.” He gestures at the headphones around Nero’s neck, and he rolls his eyes.
“Fine, here.” Before his uncle knows what’s happening, he’s (carefully) taken the headphones off and jammed them down on the devil hunter’s head. The shocked look on the man’s face is completely and utterly worth it. And then the grin (but he’d deny that one).
“Yeah, okay, the sound quality is better, but this isn’t bad.” Nero knows that they’re getting even more stares than they had on the way out; Nero doesn’t give his headphones to anyone, but it was worth it. “Though I’ve heard apparently wired is better than not?” He’s tentative, but actually enjoying the conversation (and the music) now.
“That one I can vouch for. Had to switch to wireless after my arm changed.” His claws had made short work of the cord, and he’d wanted to destroy everything else because he needed his music. It was one of few times that Credo had actually bought anything from the mainland, just to get him to stop fighting so recklessly. Probably.
He’s still not sure how to think about the fact that Credo had, evidently, hidden the whole devil arm thing from the whole of the Order, even if the guy had believed in Sanctus’s vision, turned into a demon himself, and been okay with innocents dying in the pursuit of their dream.
Dante glances over, quiet and thoughtful (two things Nero never thought he’d say). “Still not sure what that’s about. If anything, I’d think you’d look even more human.”
Nero’s not quite sure what the general populace thinks. Sure, a ton of the Order of the Sword weren’t fully human, not anymore, but it’s not like he could hide the hair thing.
Fortunately, they’re at the apartment, and Nero doesn’t even have to knock before Kyrie’s swinging open the door and hugging him. She had to have been watching through the window. “Hey, it’s nice to see you too.” Though a little embarrassing.
“Don’t worry about me,” Dante drawls, and Nero sighs. Sure, okay, so he’s probably just enjoying someone in the family being happy, but he’s still being obnoxious about it. Like he can be anything but. It wouldn’t be his uncle if he wasn’t being annoying at some point.
“But I will. You’re a guest!” And now that he’s looking for it, there’s that slightest hint of surprise that anyone would care. Just a slight hint.
He points at a chair in the living room. “You. Sit. Don’t cause trouble.” The devil hunter salutes and strolls in like he owns the place. At least he takes the chair Nero had pointed to, relaxing and tapping his feet in time with the music—but at least here, it doesn’t feel like a restless, nervous energy.
He’d thought I’d reject him, Nero realizes. The guy almost looks happy.
Which, honestly, he probably deserves it, even if he’s going to be a jerk about it.
“We need to talk—nothing bad,” he tells his girlfriend, glancing at the man again.
“All right.” She raises her voice a little. “Dante, if you don’t stay for dinner, Nero will have to hunt you down again.”
His uncle just acknowledges that with a wave of a hand acknowledging he’s heard, which is more gutsy than Nero would be. Tough when it counts. He’s not wrong.
tbf part of the reason I latched onto Nero was my headphones and mp3 player where what got me through high school and college and early mornings at one of my jobs, so there might be a little mild audiophile MUSIC IS COOL geeking out
I just found this hanging out in the ‘to finish’ part of my documents. Written before DMC5, may have been jossed. I haven’t seen DMC5 yet, mainly because I’m trying to decide whether I want to play it blind as soon as I buy a PS4 or am too impatient and want to watch someone else play for now.
Refound again and it was still not finished. Have decided I want to play it blind, though I’m hoping that I don’t get to it ten years from now. Money is hard, unless you’re Lady.
Devil May Cry
Chapter Summary: Nero gets an unexpected visit.
Word Count: 3892
Rating: Teen
friend!ship Dante & Nero (does it count if you're family?), ship ship Nero/Kyrie (more mentioned than present)
Nero nearly swears and barely just manages to catch it before it comes out of his mouth. The last thing he needs is Dante teasing him about being shocked. Because that is Dante, cowboy boots and all, who somehow managed to sneak into the booth and put his feet up all while Nero had looked out the window for, well, somewhere around two seconds.
“I’m not in the mood,” he mutters.
“Neither am I, kid,” the wisecracking, infuriating one-time assassin responds, and that—
That catches his attention.
The voice isn’t teasing, or posing, or overconfident, or any of the other things Nero had grown to associate with Dante during their brief acquaintance—it’s world-weary. Which makes Nero even more uneasy, because it’s an unknown, and he’s got no clue what to do with a serious Dante.
“What do you want?” he whispers in an undertone, watching warily, and the man chuckles. It’s fake.
“Some pizza, and maybe some conversation. It’s been a long day on both our ends, from what I can see from here.” Perceptive, though. He’s still perceptive. The jerk.
“I don’t feel like dealing with you.” If Kyrie was here, she’d be yelling at him about being unfriendly. It’s a good thing she’s not here.
“Nah, you’re not gonna send me away.” There’s that lazy smile, that infuriating assurance. Annoying, but it’s almost a relief to see that one.
“Why the hell not?” Nero doesn’t care anymore. He’s going to swear whether or not Dante thinks it’s appropriate, or whatever.
“Because the last time we met, you wanted answers, and you’re not gonna send me away when I finally offer to give them,” the white-haired devil hunter explains logically, and. Impressive. Nero didn’t even think he knew what logic was, really. “I’m not sure where you want to talk about this,” he continues, as if he hadn’t even noticed Nero gaping. “You might have guessed this already, but Fortuna isn’t exactly the kind of place suited for this. ‘Course, if it’s elsewhere, we’re either eating first or taking our pizzas to go.”
“Food first,” Nero insists firmly, and Dante doesn’t argue, just nodding once like it was the only respectable choice.
He’s creepily quiet, which is a problem because it just leaves Nero with his thoughts. He’s not at peace, though. When the server comes back and glares his feet off the table, he does take them down, but his knee starts bouncing, and Nero can feel the nervous, reckless energy the half-devil’s radiating from here. It’s kind of like sitting next to a roaring fireplace, if that fireplace was about nine hundred degrees too hot and was very uncomfortable to sit near.
Nero might not be the braniac powerhouse Credo would’ve liked, but he is capable of putting a few facts together on his own. Like those crazy things Sanctus was spouting about ‘one of Sparda’s blood’. Like their appearances. Like the fact that Dante had said something about ‘keeping it in the family’ before just letting him hang on to Yamato like it was no big deal. He’s honestly not sure how he’d feel, if it turns out Dante’s his old man.
As much as he likes to bitch about the guy, a part of him has always wanted family. He knows it’s not unusual among orphans. When the other kids hadn’t been teasing him or bullying him (or getting him in trouble for what he’d done in retaliation), there had been a few quiet conversations, wondering about their real parents. Nero had always assumed they’d died in a demon attack, but maybe not.
“How’s Kyrie?” Dante asks abruptly, and Nero nearly snarls.
“She’s taken and she’s too young for you, old man,” he responds, voice clipped, Devil Bringer curling into a fist by his side.
“Hey, no, kid, not what I meant. She’s important to you. It’s why I’m asking.” He pauses when the server comes back to practically inhale a slice of pizza before he continues. “And I can see why. Aside from that little scene in the cathedral. So she’s not a physical fighter. She’s tough when it counts. Kinda like Patty.”
It takes Nero a few seconds to parse that Dante really isn’t interested and hitting on her, another to realize that, with the awkwardness, this is his attempt at small talk. Which he’s honestly not very good with. Sure, Nero didn’t tend to have many even in the Order who were too friendly with him, but he could at least manage a conversation here and there. Who did Dante have? The blonde and the brunette, neither of which seemed like they were too interested in general chatting. And he realizes something else—
“Who’s Patty?” he questions, curious despite himself.
“She’s a little lady who practically adopted me. You’ll probably meet her at some point.” He’s being more open than Nero can remember and it throws him off. Dante seems to notice, because he backsteps. “If you’re interested after I say my piece, that is. If not, I’ll be outta your hair.”
“I find that hard to believe. You were just obnoxiously there every time I turned around for a while,” the Holy Knight snorts at the idea, but it’s half testing the ground.
“Look, I only every really go where I’m unwanted when there’s demons involved. Not a fan of the world ending. Strawberry sundaes, pizza, and humanity are all part of this world.” He continues to chow down on the pizza like he hasn’t eaten for a week—maybe he’d dealt with a group of demons along the way, that always made Nero hungry enough to eat a couple pizzas—acting oblivious to the stares, even though given his fighting skills, his situational awareness isn’t nearly that bad. They’ve probably recognized him, given the fear in some of the looks. The PR debacle had been salvaged by Aloisa, the official story that Sanctus had perverted the aim of the Order for his own ends, and agents sent by Sparda had stepped in to stop him. Something very much like the truth, and like the good little sheep they were, the citizens of Fortuna had bought it, but the fear and trepidation remained.
It’s enough to make him think. Maybe it was the truth, since Dante hadn’t shown his face other than wiping up a few demon incursions that were probably fallout in the first place.
“Did you know he’d survive?” He doesn’t want to elaborate in front of the audience, and from the feeling that the fire just jumped another hundred degrees, Dante doesn’t want to either, but he answers anyway.
“He didn’t feel like a demon to me at the time.” He thought he’d solved it, well, the biggest part of it, anyway. “Trish—you met her in her Gloria outfit—” There’s a smirk that Nero quite honestly finds uncomfortable, along with the memories of that woman, not that he says as much—“…she told me after the fact that there was some kind of Ascension ceremony thing, but he couldn’t have told me at that point without blowing her cover, and I didn’t pay a lot of attention anyway.”
So he really thought that would’ve solved a lot of problems, despite the fact that killing the head of a congregation while church was in session was really dumb—but then, maybe it had been meant as a message? Like, ‘Order of the Sword, I know what you’re up to, and I’m going to stop you?’ He’d really wondered about that.
And after Dante says what he’s going to—probably telling him how he’s related, since he’s almost certainly related—he’s going to ask about the whole Sparda thing and about how he feels about the worship. He’s pretty sure Sanctus meant ‘Son of Sparda’ as literal, but it doesn’t hurt to clarify. In the meantime, though, “…well, I am going to let Kyrie know you’ll be coming over for dinner. She yelled at me the last two times for not inviting you over, and I’m not sitting through that again. And if you pull a disappearing act, you can be the one to explain to her next time when I drag your ass down the street to the apartment.”
The Devil Hunter stills and then smiles. “Who am I to turn down free food? Just one request: no olives.”
Nero pulls out the cell phone and relays the message, quickly getting a cheery reply of affirmation, complete with a smiley face emoticon. From most people, it would be kinda obnoxious, but from Kyrie, well, it’s kinda cute.
“She’s asking how you’ve been, by the way,” Nero states with a fond smile, pocketing the phone (still an utterly odd contraption to the inhabitants of Fortuna, but Kyrie had looked so excited about it on their little trip to the mainland he hadn’t the heart to say no) and placing down the money as he stands. He doesn’t miss how Dante looks a little surprised at this. It’s mostly in the eyes, really, but still. He’s honestly tried not to feel too sorry for how lonely the guy is, but really, the idea that he doesn’t have friends who will pay for him even when he’s broke is kinda disheartening.
Dante launches into a tall tale that is probably more than half true, but even then, he’s not really saying much of anything of consequence. He gets really quiet again once the story’s over, and even when they get out by one of the streams, where it’s quiet enough and there’s no one around, Dante’s either mumbling on about nothing or is silent.
“Look, are you gonna actually say anything or not?” Nero snarls, getting tired of all this hesitation, and to his surprise Dante actually gets angry, too, which—
Wait.
Has he ever seen the guy angry before? He doesn’t think he has, just amused at the world, which is actually kinda…
“Do you find it easy to talk about Credo? It’s not exactly a conversation I have every day, Nero. I’m having trouble figuring out where to begin, and—” Dante sighs heavily before picking up a stone and chucking it across the lake. It skips a few times before sinking into the water.
“A guy you saw as a brother?” he asks sympathetically, trying to skim a stone of his own, and the Devil Hunter laughs mirthlessly.
“Seeing as he was my twin, yeah.” Dante watches the stone and it’s apparently enough to get his thoughts together. “Vergil. His name was Vergil.” He skips another stone, and it occurs to Nero that he can’t remember having ever seen Dante staying still.
“Was?” Nero asks quietly.
There’s that mirthless smile again. “Yeah, past tense. I killed him.” There’s no hesitation to the tone, just an icy sort of emptiness. “He thought strength was the only path to protecting what you cared about, and he went as far as trying to open the portal to the Demon World to get Dad’s power.”
He’d never really said he was Sparda’s son, but—
And wasn’t that what Sanctus had wanted? That whole plot sounded far too familiar—
“I didn’t realize the extent of it until it was too late.” He shakes his head like a dog coming out of the water, pulling his gaze back into the present. To Nero. “Remember, okay, that at the time I was a young and stupid kid. I didn’t really care about all the people getting hurt, not at first. I was just enjoying the fight.”
“I thought you said he tried to open a portal?” Nero tries to get the accusation out of his voice, but he can’t get all the people who had died during the invasion out of his head.
“Hmm, yeah. I never really paid attention to the nonsense the hat guy was spouting. They ever talk about the Temen-ni-Gru?” That sends a chill up Nero’s spine.
He did pay very careful attention to certain of the lectures, though it was more Credo who talked about that. Sparda supposedly sealed the tower, constructed by human cultists in league with devils, as a connection between the human world and the demonic realm. “He tried to raise Temen-ni-Gru?” Okay, he can see killing a sibling to stop them over that, even if, more than anything, he’s always wanted family. Kyrie’s more important than some mythical brother or sister.
Dante’s crossed his arms defensively, stopped trying to skip stones. “Nah, that he succeeded at. Though you’re right on that account, too. He did manage to open a portal, briefly.” A snort. “Just long enough to lose to me and choose to stay in the demon world, be brainwashed by Mundus, and attempt to come back to kill me when Mundus tried to come back. That’s when I killed him, and I didn’t even realize until he’d left his pendant behind.”
What could he really know, huh? Dante’s younger self wasn’t the only idiot. Here’s a guy who’d fought two legendary foes. No wonder, when Sanctus had tried his bullshit, he’d turned up. And incidental to all that was his battle with his brother.
“Why are you telling me all this, Dante?” Because for all of his talking, he hasn’t really gotten to the point. Not yet.
The man flinches, like he hadn’t even when Nero had been punching him in the face. He actually has to close his eyes to find the resolve, when he hadn’t even hesitated once to fight him. “Because I’d never been to Fortuna before. When you planted your feet in my face in that church, you caught my attention, but I wasn’t sure. I’ve never met any other half-dumans before. For all I knew, that’s all the white hair was about. Except the more we fought, the more familiar you felt, and I had to look into it.” He shrugs. “I’m pretty sure Trish knew the whole time and was laughing at me.”
Nero has so many questions, like who is Trish, really and why would she know, but those can wait.
“By the time we fought the second time, I was pretty sure.” He makes a sudden face, the furnace of twitchy back. “Oh, yeah. I run a sort of detective agency, on the mainland, which mostly involves hunting down and killing demons. I don’t like doing the legwork part all too much, but this time there was a pretty good reason for it. I’d found accounts about a guy looking into the stories about Temen-ni-Gru seventeen, eighteen years ago, and your Devil Trigger kind of sealed the deal.”
“My Devil Trigger?” It feels like he’s about to toss himself off a cliff. Funny, since he’s seen Dante do exactly that.
“Well, it’s not exactly…but when you were drawing on the power of Yamato. That blue devil behind you? That looks—looked—like Verge, when he was in his devil form. And of course that religious kook knew the whole time, with that comment about the blood of Sparda.” Dante sighs. “You’re my nephew, kid. I’ve known for a while, and maybe I should’ve told you sooner, but I was still…I’m still trying to figure out the right way to tell you and even now I think I’ve got it wrong.” He glances over and turns alarmed, helping Nero to sit, because suddenly the ground feels a little unstable. “I did get it wrong. I’m sorry, Nero.”
All this time, waiting for an apology, and here he gets one for something that’s not even Dante’s fault. He can’t help but laugh. Like when he’d gained the power—the Devil Trigger. And Dante hadn’t a single qualm when facing hordes of demons, but right now he looks terrified, hovering but unsure of what to do, whether a hug is even appropriate, or whether he should just keep his distance—the laughter turns to tears. Eventually he stops, wiping his eyes with a sleeve. “So, my dad was a madman.”
“Kinda runs in the family. I blame Dad.” Dante only half-sounds like he’s joking. He half-heartedly throws a rock, and it sinks, plunk, into the water. “He knew what he was doing. I don’t want to give the impression he didn’t. But losing Mom…broke both of us. Just in different ways. It sounds weird to say, given what he tried to do, but he was honorable. He cared about a fair fight. And if he’d known about you…I feel like he’d have tried to use you, sure, but he’d protect you, too.”
Nero manages to smile. “You don’t tell Kyrie I cried, and I don’t tell her you made me cry. Deal?”
“…Sounds fair.” The man’s cautious, and Nero snorts at that.
“Relax, I’m not going to stab you again. That’d upset Kyrie, particularly since we’re going to tell her you’re my deadbeat uncle. Besides, I don’t want to have to clean.” He scrambles to his feet and holds out a hand for the guy to take, and…he looks like he’s on the verge of tears, too.
“Look, I was an orphan. I might still have the urge to stab you, but I want you around when I can. It’s something we all talked about.” He pulls his uncle to his feet, and the man’s still oddly serious.
He just shrugs at the stare. “Not like I don’t get it, kid. Patty’s an orphan that just kind of latched on to me, and…” He sighs. “I was in the orphanage, too.”
Nero blinks. “What the hell?” But he’d known…
“Sparda took off, probably to protect us, when I was just a kid, and when Mom died it’s not like I was old enough to take care of myself. Plus at that point, I’d thought Vergil was dead. Where do you think I would’ve ended up, Nero?” He’s cool with following Nero’s lead even as they walk back toward the city.
“Honestly, I didn’t really think about it much.” He’d just been categorized as an annoyance, even if he’d been upgraded to helpful annoyance, in Nero’s head, so he hadn’t bothered thinking about the fact that the man in red had a life, too. Never mind that their meetings had emphasized the ‘devil’ part of it all. Which…huh. Something similar had happened with Sparda, too. They’d emphasized all these great deeds so much, they hadn’t bothered recording, for example, if the guy had ever gone to see a play (they were all the rage in Fortuna, while there are things called ‘movies’ that are popular on the mainland), or what his favorite food was, or anything. Which…
“What kind of music do you like?” It had taken a while to get his headphones replaced, which was a pain in the ass, but he’d been a little mad about Kyrie and there hadn’t really been time to take them off safely.
“What.” Nero glances down, just to make sure he hasn’t turned into a demon somewhere along the way, and other than his arm he still looks perfectly human.
“I’m trying to show you what small talk looks like before we make it there so you don’t embarrass me in front of Kyrie, old man. What kind of music do you like?” Maybe he doesn’t like any type of music, but still, he’s curious.
That smile’s not mocking or sarcastic or anything for once. It’s real and genuine. “Rock, mostly. If you ever feel like visiting the office, it might be a little cliché but I’ve got a record player. I’ve even got a really rare record—you ever heard of Elena Huston?”
“I’ve mostly just listened to what I can find. I guess a lot of it is rock, too. I don’t know too much about music from the mainland.” He only really likes Fortuna music when Kyrie’s singing it. And then, because he’s a little bit curious, “Does record music really sound that much better?”
Dante shrugs, but he’s definitely relaxed. “No clue. I’ve never really listened to it like that.” He gestures at the headphones around Nero’s neck, and he rolls his eyes.
“Fine, here.” Before his uncle knows what’s happening, he’s (carefully) taken the headphones off and jammed them down on the devil hunter’s head. The shocked look on the man’s face is completely and utterly worth it. And then the grin (but he’d deny that one).
“Yeah, okay, the sound quality is better, but this isn’t bad.” Nero knows that they’re getting even more stares than they had on the way out; Nero doesn’t give his headphones to anyone, but it was worth it. “Though I’ve heard apparently wired is better than not?” He’s tentative, but actually enjoying the conversation (and the music) now.
“That one I can vouch for. Had to switch to wireless after my arm changed.” His claws had made short work of the cord, and he’d wanted to destroy everything else because he needed his music. It was one of few times that Credo had actually bought anything from the mainland, just to get him to stop fighting so recklessly. Probably.
He’s still not sure how to think about the fact that Credo had, evidently, hidden the whole devil arm thing from the whole of the Order, even if the guy had believed in Sanctus’s vision, turned into a demon himself, and been okay with innocents dying in the pursuit of their dream.
Dante glances over, quiet and thoughtful (two things Nero never thought he’d say). “Still not sure what that’s about. If anything, I’d think you’d look even more human.”
Nero’s not quite sure what the general populace thinks. Sure, a ton of the Order of the Sword weren’t fully human, not anymore, but it’s not like he could hide the hair thing.
Fortunately, they’re at the apartment, and Nero doesn’t even have to knock before Kyrie’s swinging open the door and hugging him. She had to have been watching through the window. “Hey, it’s nice to see you too.” Though a little embarrassing.
“Don’t worry about me,” Dante drawls, and Nero sighs. Sure, okay, so he’s probably just enjoying someone in the family being happy, but he’s still being obnoxious about it. Like he can be anything but. It wouldn’t be his uncle if he wasn’t being annoying at some point.
“But I will. You’re a guest!” And now that he’s looking for it, there’s that slightest hint of surprise that anyone would care. Just a slight hint.
He points at a chair in the living room. “You. Sit. Don’t cause trouble.” The devil hunter salutes and strolls in like he owns the place. At least he takes the chair Nero had pointed to, relaxing and tapping his feet in time with the music—but at least here, it doesn’t feel like a restless, nervous energy.
He’d thought I’d reject him, Nero realizes. The guy almost looks happy.
Which, honestly, he probably deserves it, even if he’s going to be a jerk about it.
“We need to talk—nothing bad,” he tells his girlfriend, glancing at the man again.
“All right.” She raises her voice a little. “Dante, if you don’t stay for dinner, Nero will have to hunt you down again.”
His uncle just acknowledges that with a wave of a hand acknowledging he’s heard, which is more gutsy than Nero would be. Tough when it counts. He’s not wrong.
