Chapter Text
Nero gripped the Yamato, the sweat in his palms making the sword feel as if it could slip from his hands at any moment. But his eyes didn’t waver; focusing on the doppelgänger in front of him.
He has been training for hours every day for the past month, and still feels like he’s been making no progress. The visage before him is simply too strong, but it only makes Nero more motivated. He feels a fire rekindle in his chest– one that he’s familiar with. One that makes his grip tighter, his muscles stronger, and mind more focused.
Whilst watching Nero charge head-on once again, Vergil feels, what is undeniably, nostalgia. He remembers seeing that same fire burning within him decades ago. Born from feelings that would only worsen each time he tried to forget them. Another constant battle that couldn’t be won, one that he later realised wasn’t even a battle to begin with.
Nero grunts when Vergil’s doppelgänger overpowers him and sends him flying to the ground. The impact makes him pause and lay on the ground for a few seconds, but he quickly finds resolve in himself to get up and once again re-adjust the grip he has on the sword.
Vergil knows very well what Nero is capable of. Fighting him at the top of the Qliphoth gave him a good understanding of Nero’s power– he’s undoubtedly a son of his; worthy to be called a descendant of Sparda– but with significantly less experience than both Dante and himself, allowing Nero to have much more room for improvement. Besides that, there’s another issue… Nero’s very obvious temper.
“Dammit!” Nero shouts as he watches the Yamato fly from his hand due to a particularly powerful attack coming from the doppelgänger.
The Yamato lands by Vergil’s feet. If it were anyone else, Vergil would scowl at them for mishandling his beloved sword in such a way. But all he does is grab it and sheath it in its scabbard.
“Hey!” Nero shouts from across the yard. “I’m not done here!”
“Yes, we are,” Vergil responds calmly, willing the doppelgänger away.
Nero looks back at where the doppelgänger stood, and back at his father. “The sun hasn’t even set yet!” He continues to argue, as if that could change Vergil’s mind.
Sometimes he’s successful.
“It doesn’t matter, we aren’t getting anywhere.”
Nero, now approaching Vergil, continues to argue. “Seriously? I’ve been lasting longer against your doppelgänger, and you say there’s been no improvement?”
“You still can’t land a hit on him,” saying this makes Vergil pause for a second and avoid eye contact with Nero. These things still aren’t easy to say.
“Doesn’t matter, I can still fight!”
Returning to his usual composure, Vergil doesn’t let Nero’s tantrum affect him.
“So you can continue fighting tomorrow,” and with that, he seals away this decision by turning back and heading to town.
Nero catches up with him, but doesn’t let Vergil have the last word. It earns him a small smile from Vergil.
“I thought this was your idea! Why are you all of a sudden so set on–” Nero notices his father’s small smile and falters for a bit. “... us leaving… wasn’t the whole point for me to improve?... Ugh whatever. No point in arguing with you,” his tone clearly didn’t have the same antagonistic bite to it. Vergil can’t help but think how different Nero is to him.
They had been training in a rather secluded area, away from the general commotion that people make. The walk back to Devil May Cry starts out quiet, but words that Dante spoke linger at the back of Vergil’s mind.
”Use this opportunity to get closer to the kid!” He had said. “He’s still pretty pissed at what you did in Red Grave city, yknow? Try to make amends!”
His grip on the Yamato’s scabbard tightens. Tension overtakes his body, but Nero has his eyes away so he doesn’t notice his father’s internal turmoil.
He knows he should try to make amends with Nero. He wants to make amends. But it’s easier said than done.
“You’ve been improving,” Vergil finally says, his voice cutting through the silence like a sword.
“Thanks.”
Vergil’s jaw tightens. He continues looking ahead, and can already spot some buildings being rebuilt in the distance. Goosebumps travel up his spine, and Nero’s steps seem louder in his ears.
“You're a quick thinker during battle. And you’re well aware of your situation and position in a fight and how to get out of it.”
“Okay.”
“So,” Vergil doesn’t really know how to continue. “I wouldn’t say you’re not improving.”
“And what exactly is the point you’re trying to make?” Nero asks, blunt as always.
And as always, it forces Vergil into uncharted territory.
“I didn’t mean to make you think you haven’t been improving. I just think that you've been working hard… so you should give yourself a break.”
Nero doesn’t respond, and the silence that Vergil dreaded returns once again.
He has many more things to say. Things that get stuck in his throat. Things that make Vergil frustrated with himself. Why can’t I speak? He wonders to himself. Why am I so incapable of expressing myself? Wouldn’t Nero like to hear what I have to say? Even now, I can’t be the father Nero waited years for.
“I know there’s still things I have to improve on,” Nero slices through his thoughts, “I know I don’t wield the Yamato well. Despite knowing it’s a different weapon, I still treat it like it's the Red Queen.” Vergil looks beside him. Nero has the same look Vergil held not too long ago. Furrowed brows, looking ahead, tension clear in every step of his body. But there is also a clear look of determination in Nero’s eyes, one that is noticeable in his tone as well.
“But I’m grateful that one day I’ll inherit the Yamato,” Vergil feels weakness invading his legs. He’s thankful Nero doesn’t have to see his walk stuttering. “It’s a privilege beyond belief. I hope one day I’ll be good enough to wield it to its full potential.”
“You’ll get there,” is all Vergil says, because he doesn’t trust his voice enough to speak for long.
For some time, neither spoke. They decide to walk through a more concealed street– one with less people and with less construction. In this street, one can get a true grasp on the severity of the situation. Walls pile up on the ground, houses have no roofs, there’s dirt and debris accumulating in every section of the street. Vergil can imagine how these houses were before. How they held families, how they housed much happiness as well as misfortune. They were all assertive in their humanity, withholding importance to the lives of their residents. Vergil was aware of this; he walked these streets as V before. But it still manages to feel different when he’s fully himself.
Especially with Nero beside him. Nero, who waited years to know about his family, only to have a father like Vergil. Vergil is aware Dante didn’t wish to hurt him with his words, but they nonetheless don’t leave his mind. He can’t help but feel like he’s been placed in a role he wasn’t made for, and that Nero deserves better after years of abandonment.
Nero must’ve finally noticed how tense his father is, because Vergil could never have foreseen what his son said next; “I won’t lie, I don’t like knowing that it was you who did all this,” Nero speaks as he avoids a small debris. “But. I suppose that… you’re not all that bad.”
“Ah,” Vergil’s digits skim over the scabbard.
“I’m also glad that you’re the one inheriting the Yamato. If anyone deserves it, it’s you.”
“...Thank you.”
After that, neither try to break the silence again.
Arriving at Devil May Cry, Nero goes in first.
“Well, look who it is!” Dante says with a grin, setting down whatever magazine he was reading. “I missed you guys!”
Nero avoids Dante’s teasing entirely. “I’m gonna go take a shower!”
“Good idea kid! You stink!”
Nero pops his head back in to give Dante the middle finger and sticks his tongue out. “Blame your brother for working me to the bone!”
Dante turns to Vergil, with a wide grin still on his face. “Didn’t expect any less. Go easy on your son, Vergil!”
Vergil’s brow twitches, “Nero was complaining about coming back, now he says this?”
Dante keeps smiling, even as he watches Vergil roll his eyes and Nero defend himself before leaving. He gets up from his chair and walks over to his twin.
“So,” he swings his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “How was training? You both walked in like you’d seen horrors beyond human comprehension.”
“It went well.”
“That’s it?”
“What more do you want?”
“To know why you both walked in like you’d seen horrors beyond human comprehension!”
Vergil scowls lightly– it doesn’t have the venom it did years ago– and shrugs Dante’s arm off. Or at least tries to. Because Dante is persistent.
“Nothing happened. You’ve enjoyed annoying me ever since we were kids, I was foolish to think it’d ever end.”
“Aww, don’t be like that, brother!” Dante reaches to pinch Vergil’s cheek, and as soon as he does, he feels Vergil lightly elbowing him on the ribs. Dante ends up doubling over, wrapping his arms around his torso.
“Ouch! That hurt!”
Vergil rolls his eyes, “do you ever get tired being so theatrical?”
“Never!”
Vergil scoffs, but a small smile does reappear on his lips. He’d be lying if he said he found Dante annoying, or if he said he didn't enjoy his brother's company.
Before Vergil leaves to go to his room, Dante stops him by putting a hand on his shoulder.
“He looks up to you.”
Vergil hears himself take a deep breath, but he doesn’t feel any air in his lungs. His mind feels numb. Dante’s emotional intelligence still catches him off-guard at times. Talk about not judging looks by their covers. It’s a trait he can see in Nero as well, and it sometimes overwhelms him on how they’re all undeniably connected.
“He’s just like you– always bickering. But if he values anything above all, it’s family.”
Vergil wants Dante to continue, despite feeling like his chest has just been ripped open.
“And Nero sees you as family. He wouldn’t have accepted your proposal to train otherwise. Do you think he’d even want the Yamato if he hated you? The one thing that has belonged to you since birth…” Dante takes his hand away from his shoulder, and Vergil doesn’t move. “So, don’t worry about it! I can tell he enjoys training with you! But truly, I do wonder how fun it is? Nero always comes back looking all happy, but I doubt it’s fun. Knowing you, you’re probably all meticulous and harsh and–”
“Are you done?”
“Yeah, yeah. Go do whatever it is you do.”
Vergil doesn’t leave immediately, and Dante wonders if he should say something. Instead, Vergil mutters out a quiet “thanks,” and leaves.
Dante stands there, surprised– but also feeling a happiness that he has never felt before. It’s a unique form of contentment, one that is gained after working hard to achieve something; one that can only be felt after years of hardship. He had spent a good part of his life in a battle with his brother, or the consequences of his brother’s actions. Decades led up to the moment where he can enjoy happiness with his twin– and now his nephew too! He waited far too long for this, but he’s well aware that he’d do it all over again if he’d have to.