Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

After three years, the two brothers emerged from the realm of the dead and walked side by side through the streets of Fortuna.

Dante took a deep breath, a bright grin spreading across his face.
“Vergil, for god’s sake, I’m starving. Let’s go eat something. I haven’t had pizza in three years—I’ve missed it so much.”

Vergil sighed heavily, shaking his head slowly.
“We just got back, and you’re already thinking about your stomach, Dante? Let’s head to the shop first. Even the devil’s crying right now. I need a shower and a change of clothes.”

Dante laughed loudly, placing a hand on his stomach.
“Don’t be like that, Vergil. Let’s grab something to eat first—there’ll be plenty of time for showers later. I want my precious pizza.”

Vergil’s tone hardened, his voice firm and serious.
“We don’t have any money, Dante. Maybe try thinking before you start talking about buying pizza.”

Dante frowned slightly, thinking for a few seconds. Then a mischievous grin crept onto his face.
“You’re right, we don’t have money… so I’ll make a plan—we eat, then run. Simple as that.”

Vergil ran a hand through his hair, clearly irritated. Dante was testing his patience.
“Dante, did something happen to your head, or have three years away just made you an idiot?”

They passed by a restaurant, but Vergil grabbed Dante firmly to stop him from going in. Eventually, they reached their old shop.

Vergil walked inside, while Dante, like an excited kid, looked around the place. He’d really missed being here. Without a word, Vergil went upstairs to take a shower and change.

As the sound of running water came from above, Dante sat on the couch, propped his feet on the table, and murmured with a tired smile,
“Three years… three whole damn years in that hellhole. No pizza, no music, no jokes… pure torture.”

His gaze drifted to the window. The streets of Fortuna weren’t the same—quieter, dimmer—but they still smelled of smoke and life. He yawned and leaned back.
“Feels good to be back… at least the world’s still here.”

A few minutes later, Vergil came down with damp hair and a towel over his shoulder, dressed neatly in clean black clothes. His expression was calm and sharp as always.

Dante grinned.
“Well, look who’s back—the ever-serious, well-dressed gentleman! All that’s missing is a tie.”

Vergil shot him a brief glance.
“We need a fresh start, Dante. We can’t make the same mistakes again.”

Dante shrugged.
“A fresh start, huh? Fine. Mine starts with a large meat pizza—extra cheese.”

Vergil allowed himself a faint smile, one of those rare ones only Dante ever saw.
“Alright, but this time—no stealing. Promise me you’ll pay for it.”

Dante placed a hand dramatically on his chest.
“I promise… if I can remember where my card is.”

Vergil sighed, rubbing his forehead.
“My brother, you’ll never change.”

Just then, the neon light from outside flickered across their faces. The sign read “Devil Slice.”

Dante’s eyes lit up.
“See that? Even the name’s perfect for us!”

Vergil looked at the sign for a moment, then turned to Dante.
“Fine. Let’s see if this city still remembers the taste of hell.”

And so, after three long years away from the world, the two brothers walked again through the quiet night of Fortuna—one with laughter and mischief, the other with calm and resolve—but both bound by the same unbreakable bond that not even death could destroy.

Chapter Text

At the restaurant, the bell above the door rang. The smell of hot dough and melted cheese filled the air.

Dante’s stomach growled loudly from hunger, and with his eyes gleaming, he said:
"Ah… this is the heaven I’ve always dreamed of."

The restaurant owner, a middle-aged man with a red apron and tired eyes, came out from behind the counter.
"Well, well, a new customer. Welcome. Please, tell me what you’d like."

Dante looked up at him and, without hesitation, said,
"A big pizza—everything doubled. Extra cheese, sausage, and mushrooms. And please, hurry up, or I might summon the Pizza King himself!"

Vergil gave him a cold look, sighed, closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them again, thinking to himself, Dante, you’re such an idiot.
Then he said in a serious tone,
"For me, a hot black coffee. And please, a quiet corner… I’m tired of this one’s endless noise."

The restaurant owner smiled warmly and nodded, but curiosity got the better of him.
"You two brothers? You look so much alike. Though your personalities are… quite the opposite, hahaha."

Dante grinned widely and said playfully,
"Yeah, we’re brothers — the troublemaking kind!"

The man laughed and went off to prepare their order. Dante dropped onto the chair, looking around with excitement. The walls were decorated with photos of demon hunters and old heroes of the city. One photo caught his eye — Lady and Trish smiling together.

Dante placed a hand on Vergil’s shoulder and said quietly,
"Can’t believe it… some things never change. They stay exactly the same."

Vergil, examining his sword, didn’t look up.
"History only matters to those who still chase the past. We came back because our work isn’t done."

Dante laughed and took a deep breath.
"You always start with philosophy — even when we’re eating pizza."

Just then, the back door of the restaurant burst open. A wounded man fell inside, leaving a trail of blood. The waiter screamed,
"Help! Somebody help! He’s badly hurt!"

Vergil immediately stood up, his eyes flashing. Dante swiftly pulled out his sword, Rebellion, from behind his chair.
"Well… looks like dinner’s gonna be a bit more exciting than I thought."

Loud rock music kicked in. From the back door came a strange growl; a red light shone into the restaurant, and the walls began to shake.

Vergil spoke with calm precision and a faint smile.
"Seems the underworld noticed our return, brother."

Dante grinned devilishly and raised his sword.
"Then let’s get to it, Vergil… but afterward, we finish my pizza. Promise."

Vergil unsheathed Yamato, the blade gleaming in the air.
"Kill first, eat later, Dante. Don’t worry—pizza doesn’t have legs to run away."

And at that moment, the two brothers once again stood side by side, facing a new enemy from the depths of hell — just as it was meant to be.

The ground trembled with a deep roar, the air grew heavy, and the wounded man crawled back in fear. But the brothers stood firm like mountains.

Dante, carefree as ever, smirked mischievously.
"Well, Vergil, I think it’s game time. I’ve been waiting for this."

Vergil gripped Yamato tightly, his voice calm and his eyes sharp.
"Focus, Dante. This creature is weak compared to us, but we shouldn’t act recklessly."

A massive dark shadow burst through the back door — eyes glowing red, teeth sharp, its growl filling the room. It looked like a twisted mix of demon and skeleton — huge and terrifying.

Dante lifted Rebellion and laughed.
"It’s been too long since someone dared to mess with me. Time for a warm-up!"

The creature leaped toward them, shaking the ground, knocking plates and chairs aside.

Vergil, perfectly composed, said firmly,
"Dante, its left side — it’s the weak spot."

Dante spun swiftly, slashing at the beast, but it blocked with its tail, shattering part of the restaurant wall.

Dante laughed louder, gripping his sword tighter.
"Oh, now this is fun. I’m actually starting to enjoy myself!"

Vergil stepped forward, slicing Yamato clean through the creature’s body — but it vanished like a shadow, reappearing behind Dante.

Chapter Text

Vergil stepped forward, passing the Yamato blade through the middle of the creature, but it vanished like a shadow and reappeared behind Dante.

Dante shook his head and gestured to Vergil:
“Heh… I thought this fight would be easy, but now that I see, I promise you after this, I’ll eat three double-cheese, meat-loaded pizzas.”

Vergil sharpened his eyes, let out a deep sigh, and stared at Dante with exasperation.
“Dante, every single second you only think about your stomach, only about food. Your love for food doesn’t even lessen a bit.”

The creature lunged forward with a roar again, but this time both brothers attacked simultaneously. Their blades clashed, and an explosion of light and shadow filled the space.

Dante grinned and shouted joyfully:
“Wow… Vergil, this one we finish together!”

Vergil responded coldly and focused:
“Exactly. Together, nothing can stop us. No one can defeat us.”

As the two brothers charged at the creature in perfect coordination, the sound of breaking wood and demonic roars echoed through the restaurant.

Dante winked at Vergil and shouted his final words:
“We’ll win this fight… and afterward, I’ll eat my pizza with love.”

Vergil only gave a faint smile, his blade shining and ready. In his heart, he knew that, just like those three years in the Underworld, his brother would always be by his side—even in the middle of Hell.

As the explosion’s light subsided, hot air, dust, and the smell of burning filled the space. Pieces of tables and chairs still fell from the ceiling, and silver smoke danced among the yellow light of the moonlight. The massive, strange body of the creature completely disappeared, as if it had never existed. Dante, with a wide grin, picked up the broken demon blade from the ground, shook it, and threw it over his shoulder.

“Heh, look who's back! I’ve been gone for three years, but the world still doesn’t know how to stay calm!”

Vergil, with sharp eyes and his usual calm, took a deep breath. His clothes were dusty, but as always, neat and tidy. He carefully placed his blade in its sheath and said:
“The world was calm… until you set foot here again, Dante.”

Dante laughed, with that characteristic mischievous grin. He looked around; the walls cracked, tables half-burned, and a man frozen behind the counter.
“Heh, seems like someone’s going to pay for this party.”

The restaurant owner approached with trembling hands and eyes filled with disbelief. His voice was hoarse and weary:
“I… I just repaired this place… you… what are you?!”

Vergil slowly glanced at Dante:
“Do you want to explain? Or should I?”

Dante smiled, picking up a charred pizza on the floor, blowing on it, and said:
“Us? Just two hungry customers who accidentally brought a hellish creature with them. A small misunderstanding.”

The restaurant owner put his hand to his forehead and let out a deep sigh:
“Good that at least the creature is gone… sit down, I’ll bring your pizza, but I swear, if another wall falls, I’ll hit you with my frying pan myself!”

Dante, with a wide and energetic smile, put his hand on his chest:
“Swear on my honor! Just bring the pizza, double cheese, double meat, and something for my brother, whose coffee is as bitter as his temper!”

Vergil gave him a half-smile, corner of his lips curling subtly:
“You know, Dante… sometimes I wonder if your brain isn’t softer than your pizza cheese.”

Dante, mouth full, replied:
“Yeah, but that same brain saved you, bro!”

The restaurant owner brought the pizza—steam rising from it, cheese sliding over the surface like molten gold. Dante loudly exclaimed:
“To life, excitement, and a brother stronger than death itself!”

He picked a slice; the cheese stretched like golden ropes between his fingers. He closed his eyes, bit into it, and said loudly with pleasure:
“Ahh… this is the hellish flavor you need to feel alive!”

Vergil leaned back in his chair, raising his coffee, hiding his gaze in the steam:
“The world may have changed, but you’re still the same fool chasing trouble and pizza between humans and hell.”

Dante laughed, taking a sip of Vergil’s coffee. His face twisted:
“Ugh! Tastes like death! How can you drink this? I feel sick.”

Vergil smiled, his gaze softening toward his brother:
“For someone who came back from death, it shouldn’t be surprising.”

A moment of silence settled between them—a silence filled with fatigue and nostalgia. The soft sound of the vent, coffee steam, and small flames of candles all mingled with Dante’s laughter.

He, still picking up the next slice of pizza, said:
“Well, bro… to the hell of the future. Whatever it is, it burns easier together.”

Vergil gave a faint smile:
“To the hell of the future… and to two maniacs who can’t stop courting trouble.”

And amid the orange light of the restaurant and the sound of rain just beginning behind the windows, the two mischievous brothers sat together again—like old times—as if they had never been apart.

Dante, with a mischievous smile, lifted another hot slice. The cheese stretched from the meat layer like golden ropes.
“Ah, heavenly scent… finally reunited with you, my only beloved.”

He bit the slice, closed his eyes, and said with satisfaction:
“Heh… Vergil, I swear, this is better than any battle in Hell!”

Vergil, in silence, with his usual calm and focused expression, raised his cup of tea and paused slightly:
“Just hope we don’t have any uninvited guests at the table this time.”

Dante laughed loudly and energetically:
“Don’t worry, bro. Even Hell, if it smells this pizza, would rather fight than pass it up!”

Vergil glanced calmly around. The restaurant was dimly lit, neon lights flickering on the walls, casting shadows across the wooden tables. The wind whistled through Fortuna’s alleyways, and the doorbell occasionally rattled with the breeze. He placed his coffee cup back on the table and slightly furrowed his brows:
“Dante, you behave too much like a child. Not at all like a grown man.”

Dante was still chewing, his expression of pleasure evident:
“The smell of the tomato sauce is too amazing… I can’t stop myself!”

Vergil squinted slightly and raised an eyebrow:
“I feel like the only fool here is you, a creature attacks you, and yet in your mind, pizza is flying around.”

Dante paused for a moment, looked around, and shrugged:
“Mmm, true… for now, I’m just in contact with my stomach.”

Vergil fell silent, his gaze seeing through the steamed glass outside, observing the passing people, the restaurant’s apparent calm, and the light drizzle outside.

Dante, smiling, pushed the plate forward:
“Let me finish this slice without anything happening, please.”

Vergil gave a faint smile:
“Enjoy it, Dante. Nothing can stop your love for pizza.”

Dante put the bite in his mouth, eyes sparkling with joy:
“Then let’s make the most of it… I don’t want to miss even a piece of this pizza.”

He shook his head several times and, with a dramatic move, separated the stretched cheese from the plate and took another bite. Each time the cheese stretched, his smile grew, and the corner of his mouth got slightly smeared with tomato sauce.

Vergil, with precision and calm, lifted the black bitter coffee to his lips, secretly amused at Dante. Occasionally, one eyebrow raised slightly as he observed Dante’s movements silently, as if every small gesture fascinated him.

At that moment, a faint breeze entered from the window, causing the small decorative candles on the table to flicker. The candle flames tilted slightly, casting soft shadows on the wall. Dante curiously looked at it and said:
“See, brother? Even the candles want to watch. This is a special moment, and in my opinion, everyone should bow to the pizza.”

Vergil gave a short smile, but his eyes remained focused outside:
“Dante, your brain really has issues.”

Dante shook his head and shrugged:
“Okay, okay, I’m still focused on my pizza. Later, I’ll see if my brain has issues or not, heh heh heh.”

The restaurant sank into quiet. Only the soft sound of the wind and the faint doorbell rattling with the breeze remained. In that silence, the two brothers, having returned from the depths of death after three years, sat together again. Moments that seemed small but were full of value and peace, felt even deeper with every slice of pizza.

The neon lights flickered for a moment, then came back on. Their glow was now softer and warmer, like a living breath circulating in the restaurant. The candle on the table, whose flame had trembled for a second, steadied again, its faint yellow light dancing on the brothers’ faces.

Vergil slowly exhaled and sat back in his chair:
“Probably just a power fluctuation.”

Dante smiled, picking up the last piece with his fork:
“See? I said, no disturbances. Even fate has mercy tonight.”

Vergil spoke calmly:
“Or maybe it’s just preparing itself.”

Dante laughed. “Yeah, well… I hope fate isn’t hungry either, because this is the last slice.”
He exaggeratedly chewed the bite; the sound echoed in the quiet restaurant, then leaned back in his chair.
“Heh… now I understand why people enjoy ordinary life. Pizza, coffee, a grumpy brother… what could be better than this?”

Vergil gave him a long, calm look, following the steam from his coffee until it disappeared into the air:
“Ordinary life for us is just a dream, Dante. Even if we reach it, inside, we’re still defined by swords and shadows.”

Dante paused a bit. His smile gradually faded.
His gaze fell outside; the street was half-empty, rain started lightly, and the lights glistened in the fine raindrops.
“Maybe… but even warriors sometimes need a slice of pizza, to remind them what being human tastes like.”

Vergil remained silent for a moment. Dante’s words lingered in the air between them, like coffee steam rising and vanishing. Then a faint smile appeared on his lips:
“For a moment… I agree with you.”

Dante, surprised, said:
“What? Repeat that, brother! This one goes down in history!”

Vergil turned to him, his usual calm still shining in his eyes:
“Don’t get used to it.”

Dante laughed:
“Heh… okay. But just this once, I need to know there’s still a trace of humanity in you.”

Vergil answered softly:
“Maybe… or maybe I just remember what peace tastes like.”

A calm silence settled between them. The rain outside created a gentle rhythm, and the steamed window glass showed a faint view of the street. Dante drew a line on the fog with his fingertip, sketching a simple sword, and chuckled under his breath.

Vergil, without looking, said:
“You still behave like a child.”

Dante smiled:
“And you still give advice like an old man.”

Vergil shook his head in mild disapproval, but his faint smile betrayed him.

For a moment, both were silent. Only the rain, the smell of hot pizza, and the weak warmth of the lights flowed between them.

Dante put his hand behind his neck, stretched, and said:
“You know… maybe we needed to come back, not for war, but for these simple moments.”

Vergil looked at him, then rotated his empty coffee cup and quietly said:
“Simple moments we always ran away from.”

Dante’s smile returned, but this time softer, more genuine.
“Well… maybe it’s time we stop running.”

The restaurant sank into warm silence. The lights burned quietly, the rain continued, and the two brothers—hunters of Hell—were, for a few minutes in a world finally calm, just human.