He can almost still smell and feel the heat of the forge when his eyes eventually open the next morning. Faintly he thinks better that than any lingering sort of ache on the crown of his head with how many times a pair of tongs made contact with it. And yet... Vergil knows the feelings attached to what he just witnessed and experienced are not entirely his own but rather those that belong to Mizu and come coupled with the memory itself. But he knows his own irritation at being struck would not outweigh the fondness Mizu clearly holds for Master Eiji. So, even if there were some phantom sensations related to that, Vergil doesn't think he could be particularly irritated with them any more than he had been over the criticisms of imperfect knives. They weren't easy lessons, but they were important ones, and ones given to Mizu freely as a father would give to his son. Vergil would never admit it aloud, but he knows it made his heart ache a little over the lessons his own father could never give him, and even more over the lessons he lost the opportunity to give to Nero.
Usually, the moment Vergil is awake, he is up and moving. He makes his bed. He dresses. He decides whether or not he feels like eating something, and then he sets about his day. This morning Vergil lingers a little longer in his bed, however, rolling over onto his back to look up at the ceiling. It's not because of what he experienced that he's left lying there, looking up at the ceiling, but because of what he knows Mizu experienced in return. Vergil squeezes his eyes shut tight enough to begin seeing bursts of stars behind his eyelids, the bile of his nightmares seemingly right there at the edge in the back of his throat as the true form of that memory works its way into his mind. One of Vergil's hands curls into a fist and he lightly thumps it against the mattress before opening his eyes. This is precisely why he avoided the fox's games as much as he did. There was just simply no telling what private matters, what old wounds the fox spirit would dredge up all on a whim.
He draws a deep breath and sits up, pushing off the covers and putting both feet on the floor. Hunched over with his elbows resting on his thighs, Vergil sits for a moment as he tries to identify an alternative to what he knows what will inevitably happen. But the alternatives are childish at worst, stopgaps at best. He inevitably has to face Mizu again regardless of what he does. So, better to face it head on rather than attempting to take a more cowardly approach and avoiding Mizu altogether or simply waiting for the other swordsman to come to him. Vergil rises from his bed and goes about his morning routine as per usual, taking some small comfort in the fact that Mizu did not witness his ultimate shame and failure at the hands of his father's enemy, and that meant Vergil likely won't need to address what came next beyond what he saw.
Skipping breakfast, the half-devil pulls on his jacket and gloves before leaving the relative safety of his apartment to search for Mizu. He knows enough of Mizu's habits to know generally where in Folkmore to look, but he doesn't make use of his demonic form to cover more ground through flight quickly. Instead, he uses the time to calm his mind, dismissing thoughts of defeat and his regrets. He turns over the memory of Master Eiji, recognizing that while far less of a sore wound as his conflict with his brother, he also didn't know fully how Mizu would feel knowing Vergil experienced something like that. Mizu is just as prone as Vergil to keeping his past to himself after all, and it was still wasn't something Mizu willingly parted with and had been private until Thirteen deemed it no longer to be as much. But perhaps even if there may be mild resentment toward Thirteen for the violation of his privacy, it won't necessarily weigh so heavily in their...relationship with one another. Mizu has already spoken a little of his upbringing, and not just the loss that drives him to seek revenge. Perhaps there's a chance that it sits a little better with Mizu as a next natural step in what's been spoken rather than something torn from him. And maybe it was a good reminder that there was someone out there who cared for him despite his single-minded quest for revenge and the toll it would inevitably take. Perhaps seeing Vergil's own mistake of ignoring and throwing Dante aside in contrast to that could provide a bit of thought for Mizu. That the loneliness that he's chosen doesn't have to be the only thing for him in his life.
Regardless, Vergil won't know until he finds Mizu.
It does not feel like morning when Mizu wakes. She leaps out of bed, sword quickly drawn, only to find quiet near silence in her cabin. She's in Folkmore, not some demon realm. The sensation of falling was so strong, even upon waking, that the familiar sight feels off. The sword in her hands is the one the fox spirit granted her, not one of Vergil's. Not Mirage Edge, which she has actually held, much less Yamato. That was a feeling she hasn't had in some time: wielding a sword that is hers and meant for her. Yamato isn't hers, but that feeling was there in the dream, a rightness and purpose that comes only when wielding one's sword. The rest, the fight against his own brother who uses guns, is more foreign. Mizu an outsider, for all that she was Vergil in the dream. The dream that was more than a dream. She's certain of that.
One thing at a time. Mizu sheathes the sword she uses and finds the box containing her sword that the fox spirit returned to her, whole and unbroken, shortly upon her arrival. Mizu kneels before it and stares at the sword. It's hers, but it is brittle. Wrongly made. It broke where a good sword should not. Her sword should not. It is her sword, but Mizu cannot wield it knowing its flaws, the flaws she made with it. Mizu longs for a sword of her own, as she has her whole life, but the dream makes that sharp and cutting. There is no Yamato for Mizu. She must forge one. She must make new steel again and make the right sword.
Master Eiji would bonk her on the head and rightly so. Mizu presses lightly against the top of her head. It isn't sore, but she wishes it were. She wishes she got to see swordfather again. It's been months, and she still doesn't know who she is. If she can be the person he said she can. They were kinder words than those the first time she left. Avoiding her sword, avoiding working on her sword, she's avoided learning the answer to the question.
It must be done right. Mizu has some things, but she needs more. She gets ready for the day in a perfunctory manner before leaving to make the trek to the train station and to the rest of Folkmore. Epiphany comes first. She can buy anything with Lore, but Lore is not the answer she wants. Not what's right. Mizu's only a block away from the train station when she sees Vergil. She stops, considers, and adjusts course. It makes sense that he is looking for her, whether it is about what she saw or what he saw. Mizu prays the memory didn't reveal... anything particular about her body. It didn't feel like it would in what she experienced, but they are dealing with a fox spirit. Anything is possible.
"Vergil," Mizu says, far less certain on these grounds than what she had been doing. She doubts he wants to discuss it in public in a busy space. "Shall we get tea?"
They could spar. Mizu would be willing and feels she's gained a deeper understanding of his moves. It would be interesting to see what that changes. However, it doesn't seem likely to be what Vergil's looking for after what happened.
Vergil is cajoled from his ruminating at the sound of his name. He looks up first, likely giving away how lost in his own thoughts he was even as he was seeking Mizu out, before he looks around his gaze centers on Mizu.
"Yes. That would be fine," he agrees, a little stilted and on just as uncertain grounds as Mizu. Vaguely, he thinks, he could have done with a little more time before finding the other swordsman. But then again... There probably wouldn't be enough time in all the world for Vergil to untangle all of his thoughts adequately before conversing with Mizu about the matter. He is, unfortunately, far too prone to tying himself up in such mental knots when given the time to do as much. It is perhaps for the best Mizu appeared to seek him out as well.
Of course, now they must walk together. Normally, this would not necessarily be such an issue. Loath as they are both to engage in small talk, idle conversation has been coming a little easier these days to occupy the space before lapsing back into a comfortable silence. But when it's so plain that they both have much to say and ask, the silence feels unnaturally meaningful. Which makes small talk all the worse than usual.
"I have been thinking," he says, compelled to say something and reaching for anything he can think of that doesn't feel like the sort of inane discussions others have about the weather, their sleep or food, or whatever other daily drudgeries another Star Child might consider an appropriate, light topic of conversation. "I'd like to try something with you, but you need to not be a stiff breeze away from losing your balance. So, it will need to be before next we spar, not after."
Unfortunately, it is impossible for them to carry on as normal without addressing what happened, so that upon seeing Vergil this course was set. Mizu will not pretend she did not see him nor avoid him for the conversation being uncomfortable. Even though that delays what she came here to do, it feels in its own way part of the process. Part of making her sword. That makes Mizu feel better about it, that realization, little as she knows how to have the conversation they are about to have.
The disruption leads Mizu to think about the sleeping experience once more, about what happened with Vergil. She's sure it happened. The confrontation with his brother. The determination not to be saved. The fall toward Mizu isn't sure what. Nothing good. He didn't even know he left his son behind by doing so. He didn't know. That's better than she could say about any of her fathers, who only left her alone when they thought she was dead.
Mizu turns toward Vergil, even as she wishes they were closer to the tea shop, uncertain what this conversation will be. Part of her immediately bristles at the implicit assumption she will be in a terrible state after they spar because it sounds like the assumption she'll lose. However, even should Mizu win, she will likely do so while barely able to stand over Vergil's defeated form. That and the fact she needs some rest to fully utilize her healing ability helps her accept, rather than argue, his point about timing.
Not that Mizu knows what he wants to try. That makes her curious.
"What do you want to try?" Mizu asks. Something challenging and physical. More than that Mizu cannot tell from what Vergil's said. Nor can she guess simply by knowing what Vergil and she herself are capable of. It sounds like it will push those limits in some way.
"Most Devil Arms aren't able to wielded by pure-blooded humans like you," he explains as they walk. "Some Devil Arms seek to test their wielder's strength prior to their use, and that simply goes beyond anything a human can withstand physically."
Vergil doesn't mention the physical strength with any sort of arrogance attached to it. The way he speaks of this is more a statement of fact, which he thinks Mizu can appreciate. There's a lot more that Vergil's body can withstand and recover from than Mizu could ever hope to weather without any of the abilities the fox spirit has granted him. Hell, even with those abilities, it's not likely Mizu would still be standing in the aftermath of some of the tests Devil Arms might opt to attempt.
"Others would just remain dormant in the hands of a human, and it would appear no more than whatever weapon it has taken the shape of being," he continues, laying out the stark and yet not all that dissimilar outcomes given that ultimately, a human cannot possess the power of a Devil Arm. "Mirage Edge functions more as the latter given that it is still through my own will and power that it has any additional abilities than that of a normal blade. You will never possess the ability to command it by virtue of that alone."
Once again, Vergil doesn't mean to be condescending so much as he's simply stating facts. Even if there was a realm of possibility that Mizu could bend the will of a Devil Arm to his own, there isn't a chance that he could ever bend Vergil's will. The half-devil is far, far too stubborn and prideful to allow anyone that sort of control over him. But the blade is also not so separated from Vergil as a more traditional Devil Arm would be from the demon that created it.
"But I am..." He pauses a moment, mulling briefly over the exact word he wishes to use. "...Curious. If it would be possible for you to withstand its power all the same."
Hence why Vergil recommends that it be something they try before any sort of sparring were to occur that particular day. He thinks if it's possible for Mizu to manage that sort of power effectively, it's better to test while he's at full strength than to gamble with him sustaining injuries. Especially with the extent he tends to accumulate after their bouts with one another. Not that there's any doubt in Vergil's mind that Mizu wouldn't be stubborn enough to still try, but it's pointless to test when the outcome is already reasonably known. Mizu wouldn't likely die from it, but he wouldn't be able to aim worth a damn. He'd be just as if not more liable to sever his own limb or otherwise fail to maneuver the energy than he would be to hit a target.
"Only if you are open to trying it, of course. You haven't demonstrated much interest in power beyond what you're normally capable of through your own strength. So, you're hardly under any obligation to satisfy my curiosity."
The healing factor notwithstanding with Vergil's conclusions, anyway. But even then, Mizu has seen what Vergil can do. It's not as though he would lack the imagination to request something similar to put himself at more even footing with Vergil than what he possesses now or before. So that means he knowingly chose something greater than his natural ability and yet not the greatest that it could be. As much as he wants to defeat Vergil, a sheer triumph of raw power and strength is not the way he wants to do it.
There's something absurd to hearing herself referred to as a pure-blooded anything. It's the first time, actually, that she's heard that word aloud to refer to her. Her. Pure anything. Some likely even believe her to be a demon entirely if not in part, unable to accept that she can do what she does otherwise. Mizu herself wonders sometimes. It's one reason that getting to know Vergil has shifted a great deal, not only who he is as a person but what he is. A half-devil, someone who can transform into a completely different form, one impervious to the strikes of her sword. So Mizu understands why Vergil calls her a pure-blooded human so matter of fact without a second thought. It still strikes her strangely to her core. Something off or wrong that shouldn't be her.
An impurity in the right place, swordfather's words, feel like the best that could truly be her.
Mizu is human, where Vergil is half-demon in his world's sense of demon. There is no argument there. Simply as a way to talk about it... Mizu has to focus to pay attention to the rest of his explanation, a succinct description of Devil Arms if Mizu has to bet. There's more behind the making of any weapon, and these which have some property once they're made, even more so. It is also easier to follow along as Mizu contemplates the fight she had as Vergil last night, an experience that felt real and true and exhilarating. She remembers putting her will into Mirage Edge, into using its abilities, yet Mizu has no doubt that's only because the fox spirit made her Vergil in whatever that experience was. Short of that, he's right. It can only be a sword in her hands.
What is it that determines whether a human, a person like Mizu, can withstand Mirage Edge's power: strength? Willpower? Whatever it is, if it's possible, Mizu can do it. That much she's sure is true as soon as Vergil raises it, at the memory of its power in her hand. Hubris some might call it, but people have said that of her too many times for Mizu to bother counting. It's impossible. You can't do it. Watch her.
Vergil raises a good point. She will not have access to Mirage Edge or any Devil Arms when she returns home. She does not assume that she can bring anything home with her, especially weapons, the way that weapons did not come with her when she arrived. Fortunately for Mizu, the weapons she wielded had no sentimental value to her, having been taken from its use against her to be wielded for her. So there's no promise of any payoff, any return on her quest for revenge, in testing this.
"I doubt I would have come up with the idea on my own," Mizu says, "for the reasons you say. My focus is on what I am capable of and what I will have access to when I seek my revenge. It is most likely that it will do nothing for me in that regard, so that is not a reason to attempt it."
Mizu then shrugs. "Not all training has an immediate connection to the end goal, something clear and specific. It is still possible I'll learn something useful from it or test myself in some way similar to what I'll face ahead. The unknown if nothing else. As much as I read and study what I can of London and its surrounds, there is no guarantee what I read is for the London of my world. With a fox spirit's trickster nature, it could all be for something else, and I will still have to adapt upon my arrival. In that way, it could be considered practice, even as it seems a wholly different task.
"Besides which, it may be enjoyable on its own to satisfy your curiosity and prove myself capable."
No lack of confidence on her part. Mizu motions to the tea shop ahead, one where they can sit on cushions around a low table while served tea in ways not entirely foreign to Mizu and Japan in her time.
Vergil scoffs quietly at Mizu's answer, but it's not a derisive sound. There's a bit of predictability in Mizu's willingness to try even when common sense would likely dictate otherwise. Because as much as Mizu might claim the experience may have yet unproven value to his quest for revenge, Vergil wouldn't be surprised if merely proving himself capable is enough all on its own without any true connection to the battles that lie ahead of him. As much as Mizu doesn't need to (and likely isn't all that interested in trying to) prove himself to Vergil, he will likely always have something to prove to himself. A limit that he can push past just a little bit further each time. It's foolish. And reckless. But it's undeniably Mizu. And so, the sound Vergil makes isn't denigrating. It's plainly too fond for something like that.
"Then we shall set aside time for it before our blades next meet," he says with a slight nod.
Vergil steps into the tea shop first. Most would probably not notice it with how subtle he goes about it, but it may not escape Mizu's notice. A handful of months in Folkmore is hardly enough to undo the childhood he spent being hunted or the decade he spent clawing his way back to himself. Vergil thoroughly scans the whole of the shop, assessing it without a single word the entirety of their short walk to their table. Vergil's guard does not lower even once they are seated, but his attention does center more on Mizu once again. He had been much the same at Farm to Sky at first. Without something like the comforting distraction of books at the library, the openness of outside, or the control of an environment like either of their abodes, Vergil is initially prone to more caution with his environment.
"I assume you have questions."
It's only a brief internal debate of how to proceed given that small talk had already been removed from the list of potential options. It really only boiled down to the matter of which of them would need to speak on what the other saw first. As much as Vergil does not want to speak on the matter of that memory—the slight pursing of his lips and furrow in his brow belying that fact—Vergil would rather be the one to decide to share it by inviting whatever questions or remarks Mizu may have than have any further of his control regarding it taken from him.
Besides, it seems so often when they have these sorts of conversations, it's Mizu that often takes the first step. It would be a lie to say that Mizu's willingness to do as much doesn't subsequently make easier for Vergil to return the same. But it can not always be Mizu who takes the first step. Inept as Vergil often feels in navigating his...relationships with others, he knows that much. At some point, patience for his reticence will run out even with someone as equally reserved as Mizu seems to be.
Mizu's lip curls up. There's no surprise in that sound, and Mizu supposes Vergil likely expected her agreement. No one in her world is like Vergil. In a way, all their sparring, all the ways Mizu learns to adapt to swords appearing out of thin air and an opponent that recovers quickly from most injuries, is pointless to what she will do. However it has clearly improved her skills as a swordsman. Mizu is better prepared to enact her revenge. She wonders whether Vergil would have raised the question, if he thought it highly unlikely she'd agree. He didn't assume her agreement, but it came regardless. It was, to some extent, expected. Certainly, no surprise. Fine then. Don't be surprised at her agreement, but Vergil can still be impressed by how she handles it. She doesn't need him to be, but it would be a pleasant reward to the endeavor.
"We can cross blades so often now, it should not take much time."
A couple days rest is the most she needs. Other matters on her schedule, reading in the library and training hand to hand with others, simply need her attention as well. Her injuries and healing are no longer the limiting factor to their sparring. A surprising but welcome change. Mizu also does not want to pester Vergil with so frequent fights that he grows bored of them and her, should she not improve from fight to fight. It's why she hasn't grappled with him since that time in his apartment. The next time they do, she intends to win.
Mizu lets Vergil enter the shop first, checking the outside for anyone paying close attention to them before scanning the tea shop for anything out of the ordinary. She recognizes the other customers in there at this time. That familiarity does not breed complacency, but she can confirm their behavior, from choice of table to the smell of the tea, is typical for them. For all Vergil says nothing, Mizu is too familiar with doing the same not to expect it, not to notice it. She knows this tea shop, however, so much as is possible. Though she hasn't used them, she knows where the other exits are, those meant for the staff. It's as safe as a semi-public space will be here. Which only says as much as one thinks one is safe.
She makes eye contact with the proprietor and nods to indicate her usual tea order. Mizu does not know what tea Vergil prefers, but if he does not like it, he can always order more. Most likely, he's not picky and will drink what comes to the table. Since the tea is of decent quality, Mizu herself could drink any of it.
"I take it that fight actually happened, roughly how I experienced it," Mizu says to lay the groundwork. There is more she wants to know about it, about his twin Dante and him, about what happened that it came to that. Vergil, and Mizu as Vergil, fought Dante fiercely, but at the end of the day, Dante did not want his brother dead. It isn't as simple a matter as her seeking her fathers' deaths.
Mizu did not anticipate Vergil to offer to discuss matters, even if that doesn't promise answers. Vergil's clearly stated how much he wants his privacy respected and does not expect the fox spirit to permit it. Mizu isn't the fox spirit, however, and should he not want to answer a single question or discuss it, she would have left it at that. For all it was mostly a fight, it spoke to issues it left her curious about. The ones she will ask about and he will answer, or not, as he sees fit.
Well, he offered.
"My first two questions go hand in hand, two sides of the same blade. Why were you fighting and what is your relationship like, that you can fight so hard but not want to kill each other?" Simple questions but it asks about so much.
Vergil nods at Mizu's assumption about the reality of the fight, and that it wasn't something that Thirteen had played out as a hypothetical. The brothers had been deeply at odds with one another just as Mizu had witnessed, their drives and motivations at such an opposition from one another that they were willing to die for it even if some part of them still held back on killing the other. Vergil draws a deep breath, heaving a quiet sigh as his eyes drop to the table. He doesn't have the desire to lie, but it's a complicated question that Mizu asks and he knows the other swordsman must sense it. What little he might have gleaned from the dream, the memory itself would readily lend itself to the notion that the relationship between Vergil and Dante wasn't exactly a typical sibling rivalry. It still isn't even now as old wounds finally seem to be trying to find their way towards healing, and Vergil and Dante are left fumbling and trying to make sense of their lost time.
"I told you the day we met, I did terrible things in my pursuit of power because of the day my mother died," he says, lifting his gaze again. Vergil doesn't bother with reiterating the truth of what he said. The spell that was keeping them trapped in that library eroding as a result of his words was evidence enough of the truth they carried. "I thought my brother also died that day. He thought the same of me. We learned roughly a year prior to what you witnessed that other was alive more by happenstance than intention.
"To me, until I knew that he survived that day, Mother tried to protect him and failed, and she..." It's here that Vergil falters. His gaze drops again. He supposes it's shame that he's experiencing now. Perhaps guilt. Certainly regret. He had spent so much of his life resenting his mother, her weakness, and her seeming betrayal. It's inarguable how much of it shaped his life, drove his decisions. But regardless of what he feels, it does not unmake the truth that it had been his belief for so long. "And she abandoned me to die."
No matter how much he cried and helplessly reached for her, she never appeared. She never made the pain stop. She never chased away or defeated the demons that attacked him. He was alone.
Vergil attempts to lift his gaze again, but it takes another try before he can bring himself to look at Mizu again.
"Dante knew the truth of her death. She hid Dante away to protect him. She died looking for me. To him, even though he disappeared years ago, it was Father that abandoned us and allowed his mother and brother to die."
It's not the entire answer to Mizu's question, but it's the foundation of where their disagreement first began.
CW: references to fire, drug addiction, and betrayal/killing within the family
There is no point to asking simple questions Mizu can deduce the answers to on her own from what she witnessed. It's what's hinted at and not entirely explained, even as she felt she understood in some way, some dream logic-y way that feels less real and certain the longer Mizu is awake. Instead she listens to Vergil, fairly certain that however he explains it will match what she felt that day. He wouldn't lie, not when he can simply refuse to answer, not when should she learn he lied, Mizu would lose respect for him. There's an element of truth to what they share of themselves, no matter how little that sharing might be compared to other people.
There is more in common to their life experiences than Mizu is wholly comfortable with. Listening to Vergil forces her to think of her mother, her far worse mother (not actually her mother) who abandoned Mizu when Mizu thought she died and left her to fend for herself on the streets as a small child. A woman who then convinced Mizu to get married in order to take care of her and to feed her opium addiction. Then, once cut off—
Mizu does not know which of them betrayed her. Her mother or her husband. It doesn't matter. Someone betrayed her, gave her location in hopes of reward money.
How frustrating that Vergil had to live thinking that his mother betrayed him and abandoned him to die as a small child when she died attempting to save him. He's spoken well of his mother, but those feelings must come after long reflection and the time to understand and change those formative feelings inside. Mizu is not sure she could do the same if she learned one of her potential fathers actually had her secreted away. Then again, they are all terrible men, and given the one who is her father likely ordered her death, it's unlikely any of the others would bother to intervene. Not an issue she will have to face. Vergil, but Vergil. He learned Dante lived a year before this, but when did he learn his mother died trying to save him? Did he even know?
Vergil looks uncomfortable, and the topic is clearly a painful one. Mizu knows nothing about how to comfort someone. She's glad when the tea arrives. Mizu does all she knows. She pours him a cup of hot tea and pushes the cup gently across the table at him. Drink some tea. Maybe that will help.
"So..." Mizu reasons out, "You resented your mother and Dante your father when you each learned the other survived. You'd relied on your father's power to survive. Dante lived because of your mother. That is a circumstance set up for conflict and misunderstanding. I'd say you're at least half as stubborn as me, and even half is more than enough to spark a major disagreement." It's something of a joke, as Mizu knows he may be equally as stubborn as her. However, that kind of stubbornness makes sense that it might lead to this. If Dante is anything like his brother, he'll be equally stubborn in kind.
"If you are willing, I would like to hear more," Mizu says, "You can stop it whenever you choose." She is not a fox spirit, and unless the fox spirit comes and locks them up again until they share, she sees no reason to force his hand.
Vergil waits until Mizu's hand retracts from the cup, hesitating for a moment longer before placing a hand around it. He doesn't drink from it, however, just feeling the warmth from the liquid inside. As best as he can, anyway. The cup itself isn't thin, preventing the heat to escape the tea in a rush. To be expected in any establishment priding itself on its tea, Vergil supposes, and the notion is to savor it. It all serves as a nice distraction, in any case, without having to even taste it immediately and without diverting too much of his attention from Mizu. There's only a vague hum of acknowledgement to Mizu's joke. Faint amusement at the fact Dante and Vergil together are easily two if not three times as stubborn as Mizu on a good day.
He waves his free hand a little in both acknowledgement and dismissal of Mizu's disclaimer. Vergil is appreciative hearing it, but it's something that didn't need saying. Mizu has hardly been the type to pry and it would take a great deal more coercion than even what Thirteen has implemented to cause Vergil to say anything he does not have any will or wish to say. And maybe that's why despite Vergil's general reluctance for the topic itself, he's willing to part with more when it comes to Mizu than he would most. Assuming they could stomach the ugly reality that has been Vergil's life to this point, other Star Children would not be able to reason anything out for themselves. They would ask more questions, pry deeper and for more in trying to understand him all while offering the guise that they aren't interested in answers that might otherwise satisfy their incessant need to understand. Mizu understood enough, and what he could not understand, he seemed to let be without making assumptions or judgments.
"Both of our resentments began long before discovering the other lived," he says, providing minor correction with a small shake of his head. "I rejected my humanity. Dante rejected the power given to him by Father. That only changed for Dante when he felt he needed to stop me lest I bring about more destruction."
It was likely clear from the dream to Mizu that Vergil certainly back then didn't feel as though he needed stopping with how fiercely he fought. Pushing himself well past his limits until Dante delivered what would have otherwise been a mortal blow to a weaker being. But now...? It's certainly more complicated than that. The destruction Vergil caused was a by-product, not his intention. If there was any notion on Dante's part that the power of Sparda would be used for ill like that, well, he would be sorely mistaken. But he was right to fear that Vergil would have stopped at nothing to obtain absolute power. The cost didn't matter to to Vergil back then. He had long since stopped being the boy who found his connection in poetry. He fled from that small chance of happiness out of fear he would not be strong enough to protect a future, a family he so desperately craved and yet denied himself. Survival was all that did because it is all that his circumstances, to a certain degree, and he, to a much larger one, left himself with.
"I was slower to change than him," he says before having a sip of the tea.
Mizu pours tea for herself as she waits for Vergil to do what he will do, to say what he will say. She's listening. This conversation, this part of the conversation, is for her sake, not his. There's been no realizations, no sudden awareness of something previously understood differently or not at all. The only benefit is that Mizu gets to know Vergil better. It's not required for what they agreed to, but then they don't know each other merely to the strictures of their sparring agreement. Looking after Mizu long enough to ensure she doesn't die is close enough. However, they've taken to talking more, whether at the bonfire or at the restaurant in Never Fade. Engaging in the fox spirit's activities and earning Lore in the process. They did not have to talk about what the fox spirit showed them last night, but Vergil chooses to and Mizu... will do the same. There isn't anything nearly so dramatic in her memory that Vergil experienced.
Vergil previously spoke about destroying a whole city. Mizu may not know where that lands in relation to the memory she experienced, but it does not take that level of destruction to get someone's attention. Lower levels, escalating levels, well, it sounds like her to some extent. Fortunately for Japan, Mizu doesn't seek power the way Vergil does. Her goals are more modest. Four dead men, along with however many get in her way. A lot that get in her way. What Vergil did affected a great many people. It probably affected something Dante cared about a great deal. After all, he fought hard and sustained terrible injuries as much as Vergil did. Or perhaps Dante feels a sense of honor and Vergil being his brother makes him responsible. Mizu certainly knows how far stubborn foolish men can go when they think their honor is on the line. Mizu doesn't know Dante nearly so well as Vergil, having only heard of him from Vergil a couple times and now living this memory. She cannot settle on any one of those explanations definitively being the answer.
"He had a larger impetus," Mizu says without judgment of either brother. Vergil's actions were something immediate and demanding. So far as Mizu knows, Vergil didn't have the same, not then, and to some extent, she's not sure he has something that large now. He's changed despite that. It's more impressive to change when it is not forced upon you. Of course, Mizu has been the same ever since she was a small child, as dedicated as ever. It will take more than she's ever seen to change her. Mizu has no interest in changing herself.
Despite everything Vergil wanted, despite Dante being in his way, Vergil still didn't want to kill his brother. Not entirely as single minded as he supposed.
Vergil hums faintly, swallowing his sip of tea and setting the cup back down on the table.
"I suppose."
It's a bit of a non-committal answer, of course, but not an outright denial or disagreement for what Mizu says. Which is really all Vergil can do because arguing against it would be akin to arguing the sun occupies the sky at night rather than the day. Dante had so much more to lose than Vergil it would seem. From what scant glance Vergil had of Dante's life and the assumptions Vergil had felt more than comfortable to make at the time, Dante had something. There were connections. People in his life. He had a direction. Purpose. The only thing Vergil could really criticize was how weak he was. It seemed foolish if not outright stupid to Vergil that Dante would dare build something for himself and to then leave himself so vulnerable that it might be all stripped away from him.
Then again, he had been protected. He hadn't known loss as Vergil knew it. Baffling as it was, it seemed to be ignorance more than anything that Dante did not understand why Vergil found power to be so necessary.
So, of course, if he felt Vergil was a threat to all that he might have built for himself or would perhaps someday build...
But Vergil could never really understand why only then did it sink in for Dante? What granted him the insight and understanding that he needed to stop messing around, to stop rejecting his heritage, and take things seriously? He doesn't sincerely think it was him that provided Dante with that motivation. Dante knew the score a year before Temen-ni-gru was raised. He had all that time to grow stronger, to stand a better fight against Vergil when they would meet again, and he did nothing in that time. He was exactly the same as Vergil found him a year prior. Weak. Hateful of the very thing he was. Disowning their father and resentful of the legacy Sparda left behind for his sons.
Whatever it was though, something in Dante changed. It changed and he grew so much stronger that he defeated Vergil. Not in an easy manner, of course. Vergil was far too stubborn even as fatigued as he was at the start of the fight after their previous bouts, the conflict with Arkham's foolish daughter, and Arkham himself. But it was a clear and final victory, and why Vergil left behind Force Edge. His defeat left him unworthy of his father's blade. But his half of the amulet... That was Vergil's. It was a gift from their mother, her last gift to each of her boys. Resentful as he had been of Eva at the time, he refused to let that go. He refuses to let it go now where it lays hidden beneath his shirt just above his heart. Vergil does not reach for it, but he pictures it in his mind's eye and draws a small amount of comfort for its presence.
"As to your other question, why we were fighting in that moment, it was over our father's power," he continues, leaving his private questions unanswered. "Our amulets must be joined together to awaken the power of Sparda that lies dormant within Force Edge. Otherwise, the blade is arguably little more than Mirage Edge. Perhaps even less.
"I wanted to claim it for myself after all that I had done to obtain it. I don't believe Dante wanted it for himself necessarily. I believe he simply did not want me to have it. He feared what I would do with its power. And he knew if he did not defeat me, I would not stop."
And defeat Vergil is exactly what Dante did as Mizu witnessed and experienced for himself. He knew there was the chance it would mean one or both of their deaths, but it was what he felt he had to do just as Vergil felt he had to claim Sparda's power for himself regardless of the cost. They were more diametrically opposed than they ever had been before in that moment, and there was no other way forward to either brother but through the other.
"And he was right. I would not have stopped until I had the power I sought." Vergil looks down at the tea in his cup. His fingers curl just ever so slightly tighter around his cup. "But after all that I had sacrificed and lost... I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't worthy of that power."
He forces himself to release the cup, folding his arms instead as he raises his eyes to Mizu once more.
"Force Edge was Dante's after that, but I would not allow him to claim my half of the amulet."
Vergil was defeated, but he would not allow him to be stripped of anything further than that which he attempted to take for himself. What he had, Vergil would have rather died than concede even to Dante as another son of Sparda. Bruised and battered as his pride has been, he would not allow it to crumble to ash after everything.
There's no immediate further explanation of why Dante changed. Vergil's had a great amount of time since that fight, that battle. Mizu sensed and felt their ages as they fought—younger than her. It doesn't mean that's where things stand now. His perspective has changed, and he's been through a great deal. For all that, she doesn't feel like it's an entirely settled matter.
Mizu sips her tea slowly and listens. The answer is power. It was always going to be power for Vergil. The specifics are interesting, and Mizu remembers Vergil seeing Vergil wearing a pendant a few times. He even removed it and left it by the bed, by Mizu, when she was recovering there when he made her food. Given how little Vergil owns, it's easy to notice those details.
The moment he calls himself not worthy, Mizu crosses her arms and bites back on immediate sharp words. Not worthy? Because he didn't defeat Dante when he started a fight like Mizu so frequently does—injured and not at a hundred percent? Because he didn't physically take Dante's half of the amulet from him? Because he failed at something for "once" in his life? The way he puts it, the only way to deserve to have power is power, which makes getting more power a nonstarter unless you act the bully. Perhaps Vergil did. He also put his life on the line for what he wanted time and again, and that's more than any rich man sitting protected in his castle not lifting a finger for what he has.
"That's why you fell? To prevent Dante from getting it?" Mizu mulls it over, what Dante was like at the end. It seems possible he'd do that. Not from a power hungry sense but as Vergil said. Still, if the amulet does nothing else on its own in half, Vergil hasn't lost power. If Dante sets it aside, doesn't use it, he's not in so different a spot. If Vergil's willing to steal instead of fight openly for it. That probably doesn't seem as powerful. In some ways, that desire for power is akin to the idea of honor. There is a way to do things, as opposed to the results. Simply the results.
"Plus you're wrong. You are worthy of that power." Mizu meets his gaze, refusing to back down from the statement. She might not have any authority on the matter, but she doesn't care. It is what it is. That's that.
There's a litany of reasons Vergil could give Mizu that would explain to him why he's wrong about that. It likely seems for a moment that Vergil is about to provide the list as his brow furrows a little further and his lips begin to part.
He's slaughtered not one, but two cities for the sake of power and self-preservation. He abandoned a woman who gave him a son because he was too fearful of what he felt for her and what would become of him if he made allowances for a feeling as weak and vulnerable as love and happiness when he did not yet possess the strength to protect it. He never had a chance to know of Nero. He belittled his brother, rejected and scorned him for extending his hand when Dante had absolutely every reason to abandon him. He fell to his father's enemy, the orchestrator of his mother's murder. He was twisted and broken, hollowed out into a mindless thing that then served that very same demon. He hated his mother for abandoning him, hated himself for being too weak to save her or Dante in his father's stead, hated himself even more for allowing Mundus to eventually break him.
Where in any of that did Vergil prove himself worthy of Sparda's true power? It's a life marked by failure after failure. A fact that Vergil has denied for so long, and only just recently has begun to reconcile. There is so much that Vergil still yet needs to atone for as he tries to find his path ahead. And with his humanity, it also means that Vergil must sit with the weight of his wrongdoings, and tolerate the discomfort of it all to the extent that he can. It's a horrible feeling when Vergil allows it to come at rest like this in his heart.
Vergil's lips press together once more, and his gaze drops. He can't pinpoint the reason why the words turn to ash in his mouth and die before he can even form a sound. It could be the shame of it all. For as much as Vergil is capable now of realizing how wrong he was, he is no better equipped to sit with that sharp pain than he was before he accepted his humanity. It could just be simply knowing Mizu is far too damned stubborn to be convinced, and anything Vergil might say will only sound like self-pitying nonsense. It could just be that he knows Mizu does not know enough to truly have an informed perspective on the matter, and so it makes little sense to argue with him anyway. It could just be that Vergil selfishly and desperately wishes Mizu was right when he knows in his core the truth is he isn't worthy yet. Whatever the reason, he says nothing in protest. Vergil doesn't know if that's the right thing to do, but it feels the only thing he can do. His fingers flex against his arm slightly.
"I kept my amulet and fell because I had nothing left." Or so he thought, in any case. Vergil couldn't accept Dante at the time. He didn't know Nero existed and he had assumed his mother moved on after Vergil left. He had spent his life alone and on his own, and he loathed humans. There was no reason to stay. "I assumed if I could grow stronger like my father before me in the demon world, I could find my way back and take what was mine."
He shakes his head a little, silently indicating that hindsight demonstrated the plan to be a foolish one. Vergil doesn't speak a word of it, but it wouldn't be unfair for Mizu to assume that wasn't how matters developed for Vergil. He leans forward, resting his arms on the table as his frown deepens.
"I have made a terrible amount of mistakes in my life, Mizu. What you witnessed was among the worst of them."
No genius is needed to tell Vergil disagrees with the statement. It's plain as day on his face, for as much as his face usually reflects little of his emotions and only in small ways even then. He wasn't worthy, he said. He still doesn't see himself as worthy. No harsher critic of him than himself. It blinds him in some ways, some aspects. Whatever it is, there is some image, some idea, in Vergil's mind of what deserving it looks like, and that image isn't before her. So she waits for some sign of disagreement, some excuse for why he doesn't deserve it.
Her mouth twists when Vergil says he had nothing left. Mizu disagrees with that too and not only because of Nero. Power is an incredible set of blinders, and their force continues to hold. What if Nero hadn't existed? Would he still say he was wrong about nothing left? There was a whole ass brother standing right in front of him.
She takes a long breath and shakes her head. Vergil has found his way out of the demon world, but he still doesn't have his father's power. It's a terrible plan. Not terrible unlike one of hers, except she generally believes she's strong enough already. Oh, and she brings supplies when she needs them. Still, they don't fall too far away from each other on that point. Plus, the first time she thought that, when she tried to bribe information out of black market traders, she got a terrible knife wound for her trouble. She needed more experience before she was as good as she is now. She's made her mistakes and walked into traps with open arms. Mizu does what she needs to do.
Vergil too.
"You were a real dumbass there," Mizu agrees, "You've made mistakes. I couldn't argue with that. You also kept going, kept trying, and continue to do so now. You don't deserve Sparda's power because you can move across space faster than I can see or because you can give yourself uncuttable skin or any of that stuff. You deserve it because you don't give up. Because you taught yourself how to forge your power. Because you will do what you think you should do no matter who gets in your way. If that doesn't sound like the demon who loved a human no matter what the other demons thought, I don't know what would."
Mizu makes sure she has Vergil's attention and he's not lost in old mistakes.
Vergil's lips twist into a slight frown as Mizu declares him a dumbass. He's right, of course, and Vergil isn't about to argue against it, but that didn't mean Mizu needed to say it. Then again, Vergil thinks, he perhaps should have anticipated it. Far be it from Mizu not to say what he thinks or to soften it in any capacity. He ultimately doesn't dwell on it though as Mizu continues. Instead, his gaze eventually lifts, traces of his confusion evident as his frown relaxes. Even when Vergil felt that he was correct in his decisions, he never thought what Mizu comments upon was altogether remarkable. Or, at the very least, something that merited comparison to anything that his father accomplished. Survival wasn't quite the same in Vergil's mind, and he can't even confidently say Mizu is changing his mind. But there's little denying that the words Mizu speaks are Mizu's truth. He can believe that much, at least. And something warm blossoms once more in Vergil's chest at the thought of that. It's becoming a more common occurrence around Mizu, he notices. He has little time with that observation though before Mizu concludes his thoughts on the matter.
Vergil's heart leaps into his throat, and for a brief moment it feels as though all the air in his lungs has been taken from him. He feels immediately foolish for it, his face warming against his will as he diverts his gaze once more.
He could dismiss everything Mizu is saying. It's not as though the question of which of Sparda's sons will be strong and capable enough to wield Sparda's power has been left unanswered. Vergil never tried to claim it for himself again, and the Devil Sword Sparda has been absorbed into Dante's own Devil Arm by now. It's also not as though Mizu has all that much knowledge of everything in Vergil's world either. Both could quickly and readily undermine Mizu's opinion, rendering it as useful as baseless flattery. But Vergil does no such thing because he recognizes it finally from what feels a lifetime ago. It had been among dusty, forgotten tomes then. Late at night when it was less likely they would be disturbed. Vergil couldn't say then and he couldn't say now what exactly changed, but she saw him as he was and not as the son of the savior for the first time. And for the first time, Vergil wanted something for himself other than power.
He should dismiss everything Mizu says in whatever way he can. He shouldn't place much value in anything Mizu might think about him. They should just share in their mutual respect for the other as warriors and spar, ensure that Mizu will have all he needs for his revenge while Vergil avoids boredom and stagnation, and that should be the end of it. There is no need nor desire for anything more than that. Their pragmatic agreements have reflected that time and time again.
Vergil reaches for his cup again before straightening himself out.
But connection has been such a rare thing in Vergil's life. It's hard not to feel... Well, it's hard not to feel in general these days, but especially not the warmth and want for more.
"I'm sure your swordfather would be surprised to learn he raised a wiseman," he says as he brings his cup to his lips.
Vergil doesn't dismiss anything. Instead, he simply keeps them—Mizu's words and the small ember they sparked—close.
It's not Mizu's duty to prop up Vergil's ego, and indeed if Mizu thought her words would do that, she wouldn't say them. She wouldn't respect Vergil enough to think them. They are what they are. Vergil is who he is. As stubborn as he is, he'll continue being himself and probably continue not to believe he's worthy of that power. Mizu doesn't know if he'll ever get it. As much as Vergil still values power, he's not on the same path as before, the one she experienced last night. That surely isn't because someone convinced him with words. Vergil decided for himself. The only way to get either of them to change what they're doing.
Despite that, it feels like stepping forward, stepping close with a strike, and Mizu waits for Vergil's reaction and his response. There's something enjoyable to watching such a strong and striking reaction. The color in his cheeks and the way Vergil turns away from her. It's an initial reaction, a pulling back, what Mizu would expect of anyone. Vergil hasn't run away from her yet, and it's a relief when he stays there in the tea shop at their table. She still has a sparring partner, and Mizu will get to try to wield his sword. It's possible they won't part ways until one of them leaves Folkmore. That'd be a pleasant surprise in its own right. The fact they both know it's temporary, that they will leave, might make it easier to stay now.
His response halts her thoughts in their tracks. Her hand reaches for the back of her head on instinct, and she shakes her head slightly to clear her own thoughts. Her heart aches thinking of swordfather and seeing him again after years apart. "He called me a stupid lost man when I left," Mizu says. There's nothing in the memory Vergil experienced to tell him that. She doesn't have to share, but the comment landed true. Their conversations stick in her mind. Mizu grits her teeth as she thinks of the errand she was on before running into Vergil. "That he did not have steel for me when I returned."
The heat rises to her cheeks, and Mizu deflates slightly. Master Eiji's words did not change her path. She went to Edo and confronted Fowler. He disapproved of the anger raging in her heart and said she would frighten the boy she once was. Except there he was wrong. Mizu has always been this angry. It drove her to train and to learn every sword style she witnessed time and again. It pushed her to leave.
Mizu straightens. Swordfather's words are personal and kept close to her heart. While she will do what she will do, no one else's opinion matters nearly so much. She remembers their conversation on the cliff, and it warms her head even as she can feel the light bonk. He didn't raise her to be a demon or a human but an artist. Those are his words. An idea she struggles with in the context of revenge. She sips more of the tea. "So it would certainly surprise him to learn I'm wise."
What Mizu says of Master Eiji comes as no surprise to Vergil. He knows he had only but a mere glance into their life together and the man that he is, but Master Eiji did not strike Vergil as the sort of man who would approve of what Mizu is choosing to do and how he is choosing to go about it. Vergil knows he can hardly call himself a father, but he cannot fathom the sort of parent that would choose the path Mizu walks for their child. Revenge is, after all, bloody work regardless of where one starts with it. And it's clear that Mizu's near single-minded approach to it has left Mizu so incredibly alone. After all, it seems unlikely that anyone would willingly stand beside Mizu as he is so quick and ready to throw his life away for the sake of his revenge. But Master Eiji also likely knows Mizu better than anyone else save Mizu himself, and he knows well enough that Mizu will do as he wills in the end regardless of what is said. So, Master Eiji likely speaks his mind and he lets what will be be, holding as much hope as he can that Mizu will see sense before there are too dire of consequences. It is perhaps all that he can do in the wake of Mizu's strength of will.
Vergil sets his cup down in front of him, holding it now between both of his hands as his forearms rest on the table. He considers his next words for a moment, knowing that commenting upon such matters runs a great deal of risk albeit no greater than the one Mizu took in commenting upon Vergil's mistakes.
"He wasn't entirely wrong," he says. "You have a fire inside you, Mizu. I see it each time in your eyes when we fight. It burns brilliantly. You have a true mastery and artistry to your swordsmanship. You are more yourself with a blade in your hand than you likely are any other time."
Vergil pauses a moment, tapping a finger idly against his cup before he continues.
"But that fire can begin to rage, and it grows hungrier for more kindling. And you become all too eager to give yourself to the flames if you feel it will reach your goal." Vergil saw it the first time they sparred. His yielding was not because Mizu had gotten to a point where he had genuinely pushed Vergil to his limits, but rather because Vergil feared if he didn't put a stop to it, Mizu would be unable to stop himself. Even if Mizu tried to dress it up as though death were a non-issue here given the nature of Folkmore, it did not change facts: Mizu would either obtain his revenge or die trying. Any other potential outcomes were unacceptable. "Knowing that, I cannot fault a father for not wanting to lend a hand to his child's self-destruction."
Thus, refusing Mizu steel was likely the only thing that Master Eiji could do if Mizu would not listen to reason. Vergil tips his head slightly as a thought begins to occur to him.
"Is that why you hesitate with your own blade?"
Mizu said his own blade was made wrong, and that was why he still carries and wields the sword he pulled from the library book all those months ago. But it was more than just steel that was pieced together wrong if what Mizu said of Master Eiji's philosophy in swordmaking and what Vergil observed firsthand for himself in the tedious amount of kitchen knives he made in the dream. The wielder must bear no secrets to the smith. The smith must empty himself and allow the sword must be allowed to be what it will be. In this case, both wielder and smith are the same, but can Mizu claim to be capable of either requirement?
Vergil isn't truly the judge of that. In that regard, Mizu is a better one and Master Eiji is likely the best. But a man that seems so similarly alone to how Vergil has been alone cannot do anything but carry secrets for there is no one to bear them with him. And a man so filled with anger that rises to uncontrollable, all-consuming rage cannot likely let go of it long enough to empty himself because without it, he likely does not know what else is there. Mizu keeps a tight grip upon his will, it seems unlikely that he would have the ability to let a sword for himself to be what it will be.
CW: references to fire, death from fire, and murder including children
The compliment to Mizu's skill with a sword has an edge to it, one that undercuts any pride Mizu might feel at Vergil recognizing her capabilities. If she weren't capable, he wouldn't continue to spar with her. His voice is the same tone it often is when he calls her out. It's hardly the first time. It will not be the last. They both know that. Mizu is too stubborn for a single conversation to alter her path. Too stubborn for the number of conversations they've had so far. Too stubborn most likely for whatever Vergil says today.
Mizu barely bristles at Vergil's words. She gives everything to her revenge, and her willingness to commit herself and her life to attaining it gives her an edge over the greedy fools in her way who only want money or an easy life. It remains true that Edo burned to the ground due to her fight with Fowler. Mizu isn't the one who paid the price but all those people. She doesn't bother justifying it as saving them from Fowler and what he'd do to Japan. That wasn't her reason. Vergil's not wrong, at the root of it. That's simply not enough to stop her.
She startles only when Vergil refers to Master Eiji as a father. Her father. Mizu doesn't know how Vergil got that impression, whether it's from something she's said or from the memory he relived last night, but her father tried to kill her. Her father still has a bounty on her head. Her father is no father to her. Mizu has no father.
"Master Eiji isn't my father," Mizu says softly. How much better her life would be if he were, but that's not how life went. A correction. "You can not fault a master for not wanting to lend a hand to his apprentice's self-destruction."
If self-actualization means self-destruction so be it. Mizu committed to this path long ago, and even though her mother wasn't the mother Mizu thought she was and didn't die when their cottage burned down, Mizu's commitment was real. It remains so, for her own sake. Possibly for her mother's, her real mother's. A woman she's never known. A woman likely long dead due to the same men who want her dead.
The question hardly registers. Mizu hears it, but it's not urgent, not important, compared to the issue of fatherhood. For all she has a multitude of fathers—four possible fathers—she also has none. They are terrible men who want her dead and who would kill her without a second thought. Fowler killed all his children he knew about and their mothers too. Mizu doesn't know why she survived when all those potential siblings did not, but she will make all those men live to regret it and to justify the fear that drove them to place a high bounty on her head from before she could even hold her own head up.
Vergil raises an eyebrow as Mizu corrects him, clarifying that Master Eiji is merely a master who has trained an apprentice to the best of his ability. Were it anyone else, Vergil would think it was an insincere thought being expressed. Something to try and double down on their quest for revenge, and to separate themselves from any ties that might hold them back. But it isn't that for Mizu. That much is obvious with how gently he offers the correction rather than a more venomous response that treats it more like an accusation than misunderstanding. Mizu really doesn't believe Master Eiji is a father to him. Or perhaps, more accurately, he does not believe Master Eiji would ever look at him as a son, someone worthy of love and protection.
"I still remember what it was to have a father before my own disappeared. He ensured that I was fed and clothed, and that I always had some place to return to each day that was safe and warm. He was strict so that I would know right from wrong. He protected me while ensuring I would know how to protect myself when he was no longer there.
"Master Eiji is not your father by blood," he says, agreeing that far and no further as that was only fact. "But that man loves you, Mizu. And if anything truly terrible were to befall you, to take you away from him forever, it would break his heart. He would not waste his breath in calling you a stupid lost man and refusing you steel as he has if that were not true.
Mizu understands that every word Vergil says about his father isn't, in this instance, truly about his father. The point is to demonstrate how Master Eiji is like a father to her. The issue is that those same principles apply to a master training an apprentice. Whether with an artist or how a dojo is supposed to be, that is the relationship between master and apprentice. That is how people learn. That's how the next generation is trained. It doesn't mean—
what Vergil takes it to mean. What he wants it to mean.
She flushes slightly at Vergil using the same words back at her. Master Eiji's words. He's wrong. Master Eiji has denied people swords before. That's why blood soaked Chiaki lied to them to get his hands on a sword. Even a broken blade by Master Eiji's hands was better than one from another smith. If swordfather didn't know Mizu and she came asking for a sword, he might well refuse.
The problem is that wrong as Vergil is the words remain powerful.
She remembers his question about her sword. That is easier than the matter of Master Eiji. "I forged new steel before I came here and left it in sword— Master Eiji's care," Mizu explains, "I planned to return after I killed Fowler for him to decide if I were worthy of a new sword."
Master Eiji isn't here. Mizu is close but hasn't quite killed Fowler yet. Those conditions haven't been met. They cannot be met so long as Mizu is in Folkmore. The endeavor has been paused. That's how it felt for a long time. It was mockery to return to her the sword, whole and intact from before Fowler broke it, rather than the new steel she forged. The fox spirit doesn't make judgments the way people do, but it was hard not to feel disconnected from everything she put into making that new steel.
"I am going to make my own sword," Mizu declares fiercely. She will face that test again and see whether the steel will form for her. After feeling Yamato in her hand last night, Mizu needs to. No more handicapping herself with a sword that isn't hers.
If Vergil is honest, it's a little frustrating the way Mizu abandons the discussion of Master Eiji in favor of answering Vergil's question now. Even if Vergil hadn't expressed an overt acceptance of the things Mizu proposed, he didn't try to avoid it altogether by chasing after another, more palpable topic of conversation. He expects a little better than this from Mizu. But he knows Mizu is just as stubborn as he is, and he hasn't walked his path far enough to reach similar conclusions as Vergil wherein it's easier to witness one's mistakes and misperceptions. Just as Vergil once slashed at his brother's hand, Mizu avoids the notion that Master Eiji would care for him more than just as an apprentice. Avoids it so much that it doesn't escape Vergil's notice that the man cannot even bring himself to say the word "father." But Vergil lets it be, redirecting his attention to the intensity at which Mizu declares he will forge his sword. It's likely that even without such intensity or notable change from just a few short weeks ago, Vergil may have very well let the topic rest for now. It's not really been part of their dynamic even when coerced by the fox spirit to push one another past their limits.
But Vergil isn't one to forget, and the way Mizu quickly avoids the subject is certainly not something Vergil will entirely cast aside.
So, for now, Vergil remembers that Mizu had been hesitant at the idea of forging his sword anew. He indicated that it wasn't time for an endeavor. The wrongness of the blade had been too great a matter for Mizu to comfortably address.
"What's changed?" he asks, not bothering to mask his curiosity. "It was not that long ago, you seemed closer to dismissing the idea altogether when last we spoke of it, and in less time than that, you seemed a little uncertain about your ability to forge a blade for another here."
Not entirely uncertain, of course. Otherwise, Vergil would have called it doubt. Mizu seems to know his skills well enough that he knows the blade he makes will be a sturdy, well-balanced one with a sharp edge. But it seemed a different matter to make something for someone from another world that would satisfactorily match its wielder. This declaration didn't carry any such uncertainty.
Some pressure eases as Vergil says nothing more about Master Eiji, but Mizu has no illusion that the conversation is over. That's not how it goes with them. It's a conversation Mizu would rather not have in public, even so public as this, as to why Vergil is wrong. The way they parted, Mizu never expected to see him again. She prayed for him because she cared. Swordfather accepts her hideousness, but he never understood why she needed to train. He allowed it, but he didn't understand. He didn't want her to leave. He didn't approve of it. He didn't approve of her. Mizu lived with that, and she doesn't want to talk about it at all. She definitely doesn't want to talk about it in front of people she sees on a regular basis. Perhaps a mistake to bring Vergil to this tea house, to one she knows and likes. She didn't expect him to raise that topic.
So he can think her a coward, but she does not need others here to consider her more monstrous than they already do.
The sword is why she left her home that morning. The sword is the focus of her thoughts, more important than talking of Vergil's past, more important than anything they talk about, and thus the most important thing they could talk about. Her abilities haven't changed, but the drive and the need to go through the process have. The sword she was so proud of, the sword that was too brittle, the sword that broke, will not be allowed to haunt her any longer. Master Eiji's approval is impossible to receive. Mizu must do things as he taught her.
Reforging the steel will be similar but completely different than before. Master Eiji said a good artist puts everything into their work. That included the bell she bought Ringo that he returned to her, a set of tongs from swordfather, and a makeshift furnace she built by hand. In Folkmore, it will be different, but Mizu has slowly gathered some supplies for it from the start. Vergil's discarded glove. The wood Sephiroth split with her blade to demonstrate his technique. Rin's... something of Rin's. Even the map of London she found and took that first day in the library. It will not be the same steel she made before, but Mizu is not in the same place as she was then. She does not expect this sword to come with her when she leaves this place, but it will be her sword in Folkmore.
"I held Yamato," Mizu says, "I was you. I held your sword, and in the dream, in the memory, it was my sword. I fought with my sword. The right sword. Untainted by being made wrong. The rightness of it." Mizu holds up her hand, unable to find quite the right words. "I can hold that feeling inside me and make the right sword."
It's hardly the point of what Mizu is saying, but there is a part of Vergil that instinctively bristles a little when Mizu says he held Yamato. It's equal parts true and untrue. He held Yamato in a memory. Mizu has not actually laid a finger on the real thing, nor did he truly hold it as himself. Still, it's difficult for Vergil to be comfortable with the notion of someone other than his kin possessing the Yamato and even they require some form of Vergil's consent to do as much as far as he's concerned. Vergil's able to quiet and soothe that part of himself though, quelling alongside it the frustration that comes with the slow progress he's made toward obtaining his blade once more. It's not forever, he reminds himself. And he's capable of doing without. History will not repeat itself here.
He hums thoughtfully at Mizu's words.
"I'll look forward to defeating you then. Not that I don't take some satisfaction in it now, but it will be better to defeat the true you. Not just the one making do with what's lying around."
He's teasing as he usually does, perennially confident in his ability to best Mizu in a fight with not unearned confidence, but Vergil is also sincere in the sentiment as well. He would like to see what Mizu fights like when holding a blade that belongs to him, not a borrowed one that he has had to make adjustments to adapt to using. Vergil imagines there are bound to be a few differences in how Mizu conducts himself in a fight just as he changes his own style and approach with Yamato in his hands versus Mirage Edge.
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backdated to may's trial!
Usually, the moment Vergil is awake, he is up and moving. He makes his bed. He dresses. He decides whether or not he feels like eating something, and then he sets about his day. This morning Vergil lingers a little longer in his bed, however, rolling over onto his back to look up at the ceiling. It's not because of what he experienced that he's left lying there, looking up at the ceiling, but because of what he knows Mizu experienced in return. Vergil squeezes his eyes shut tight enough to begin seeing bursts of stars behind his eyelids, the bile of his nightmares seemingly right there at the edge in the back of his throat as the true form of that memory works its way into his mind. One of Vergil's hands curls into a fist and he lightly thumps it against the mattress before opening his eyes. This is precisely why he avoided the fox's games as much as he did. There was just simply no telling what private matters, what old wounds the fox spirit would dredge up all on a whim.
He draws a deep breath and sits up, pushing off the covers and putting both feet on the floor. Hunched over with his elbows resting on his thighs, Vergil sits for a moment as he tries to identify an alternative to what he knows what will inevitably happen. But the alternatives are childish at worst, stopgaps at best. He inevitably has to face Mizu again regardless of what he does. So, better to face it head on rather than attempting to take a more cowardly approach and avoiding Mizu altogether or simply waiting for the other swordsman to come to him. Vergil rises from his bed and goes about his morning routine as per usual, taking some small comfort in the fact that Mizu did not witness his ultimate shame and failure at the hands of his father's enemy, and that meant Vergil likely won't need to address what came next beyond what he saw.
Skipping breakfast, the half-devil pulls on his jacket and gloves before leaving the relative safety of his apartment to search for Mizu. He knows enough of Mizu's habits to know generally where in Folkmore to look, but he doesn't make use of his demonic form to cover more ground through flight quickly. Instead, he uses the time to calm his mind, dismissing thoughts of defeat and his regrets. He turns over the memory of Master Eiji, recognizing that while far less of a sore wound as his conflict with his brother, he also didn't know fully how Mizu would feel knowing Vergil experienced something like that. Mizu is just as prone as Vergil to keeping his past to himself after all, and it was still wasn't something Mizu willingly parted with and had been private until Thirteen deemed it no longer to be as much. But perhaps even if there may be mild resentment toward Thirteen for the violation of his privacy, it won't necessarily weigh so heavily in their...relationship with one another. Mizu has already spoken a little of his upbringing, and not just the loss that drives him to seek revenge. Perhaps there's a chance that it sits a little better with Mizu as a next natural step in what's been spoken rather than something torn from him. And maybe it was a good reminder that there was someone out there who cared for him despite his single-minded quest for revenge and the toll it would inevitably take. Perhaps seeing Vergil's own mistake of ignoring and throwing Dante aside in contrast to that could provide a bit of thought for Mizu. That the loneliness that he's chosen doesn't have to be the only thing for him in his life.
Regardless, Vergil won't know until he finds Mizu.
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One thing at a time. Mizu sheathes the sword she uses and finds the box containing her sword that the fox spirit returned to her, whole and unbroken, shortly upon her arrival. Mizu kneels before it and stares at the sword. It's hers, but it is brittle. Wrongly made. It broke where a good sword should not. Her sword should not. It is her sword, but Mizu cannot wield it knowing its flaws, the flaws she made with it. Mizu longs for a sword of her own, as she has her whole life, but the dream makes that sharp and cutting. There is no Yamato for Mizu. She must forge one. She must make new steel again and make the right sword.
Master Eiji would bonk her on the head and rightly so. Mizu presses lightly against the top of her head. It isn't sore, but she wishes it were. She wishes she got to see swordfather again. It's been months, and she still doesn't know who she is. If she can be the person he said she can. They were kinder words than those the first time she left. Avoiding her sword, avoiding working on her sword, she's avoided learning the answer to the question.
It must be done right. Mizu has some things, but she needs more. She gets ready for the day in a perfunctory manner before leaving to make the trek to the train station and to the rest of Folkmore. Epiphany comes first. She can buy anything with Lore, but Lore is not the answer she wants. Not what's right. Mizu's only a block away from the train station when she sees Vergil. She stops, considers, and adjusts course. It makes sense that he is looking for her, whether it is about what she saw or what he saw. Mizu prays the memory didn't reveal... anything particular about her body. It didn't feel like it would in what she experienced, but they are dealing with a fox spirit. Anything is possible.
"Vergil," Mizu says, far less certain on these grounds than what she had been doing. She doubts he wants to discuss it in public in a busy space. "Shall we get tea?"
They could spar. Mizu would be willing and feels she's gained a deeper understanding of his moves. It would be interesting to see what that changes. However, it doesn't seem likely to be what Vergil's looking for after what happened.
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"Yes. That would be fine," he agrees, a little stilted and on just as uncertain grounds as Mizu. Vaguely, he thinks, he could have done with a little more time before finding the other swordsman. But then again... There probably wouldn't be enough time in all the world for Vergil to untangle all of his thoughts adequately before conversing with Mizu about the matter. He is, unfortunately, far too prone to tying himself up in such mental knots when given the time to do as much. It is perhaps for the best Mizu appeared to seek him out as well.
Of course, now they must walk together. Normally, this would not necessarily be such an issue. Loath as they are both to engage in small talk, idle conversation has been coming a little easier these days to occupy the space before lapsing back into a comfortable silence. But when it's so plain that they both have much to say and ask, the silence feels unnaturally meaningful. Which makes small talk all the worse than usual.
"I have been thinking," he says, compelled to say something and reaching for anything he can think of that doesn't feel like the sort of inane discussions others have about the weather, their sleep or food, or whatever other daily drudgeries another Star Child might consider an appropriate, light topic of conversation. "I'd like to try something with you, but you need to not be a stiff breeze away from losing your balance. So, it will need to be before next we spar, not after."
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The disruption leads Mizu to think about the sleeping experience once more, about what happened with Vergil. She's sure it happened. The confrontation with his brother. The determination not to be saved. The fall toward Mizu isn't sure what. Nothing good. He didn't even know he left his son behind by doing so. He didn't know. That's better than she could say about any of her fathers, who only left her alone when they thought she was dead.
Mizu turns toward Vergil, even as she wishes they were closer to the tea shop, uncertain what this conversation will be. Part of her immediately bristles at the implicit assumption she will be in a terrible state after they spar because it sounds like the assumption she'll lose. However, even should Mizu win, she will likely do so while barely able to stand over Vergil's defeated form. That and the fact she needs some rest to fully utilize her healing ability helps her accept, rather than argue, his point about timing.
Not that Mizu knows what he wants to try. That makes her curious.
"What do you want to try?" Mizu asks. Something challenging and physical. More than that Mizu cannot tell from what Vergil's said. Nor can she guess simply by knowing what Vergil and she herself are capable of. It sounds like it will push those limits in some way.
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Vergil doesn't mention the physical strength with any sort of arrogance attached to it. The way he speaks of this is more a statement of fact, which he thinks Mizu can appreciate. There's a lot more that Vergil's body can withstand and recover from than Mizu could ever hope to weather without any of the abilities the fox spirit has granted him. Hell, even with those abilities, it's not likely Mizu would still be standing in the aftermath of some of the tests Devil Arms might opt to attempt.
"Others would just remain dormant in the hands of a human, and it would appear no more than whatever weapon it has taken the shape of being," he continues, laying out the stark and yet not all that dissimilar outcomes given that ultimately, a human cannot possess the power of a Devil Arm. "Mirage Edge functions more as the latter given that it is still through my own will and power that it has any additional abilities than that of a normal blade. You will never possess the ability to command it by virtue of that alone."
Once again, Vergil doesn't mean to be condescending so much as he's simply stating facts. Even if there was a realm of possibility that Mizu could bend the will of a Devil Arm to his own, there isn't a chance that he could ever bend Vergil's will. The half-devil is far, far too stubborn and prideful to allow anyone that sort of control over him. But the blade is also not so separated from Vergil as a more traditional Devil Arm would be from the demon that created it.
"But I am..." He pauses a moment, mulling briefly over the exact word he wishes to use. "...Curious. If it would be possible for you to withstand its power all the same."
Hence why Vergil recommends that it be something they try before any sort of sparring were to occur that particular day. He thinks if it's possible for Mizu to manage that sort of power effectively, it's better to test while he's at full strength than to gamble with him sustaining injuries. Especially with the extent he tends to accumulate after their bouts with one another. Not that there's any doubt in Vergil's mind that Mizu wouldn't be stubborn enough to still try, but it's pointless to test when the outcome is already reasonably known. Mizu wouldn't likely die from it, but he wouldn't be able to aim worth a damn. He'd be just as if not more liable to sever his own limb or otherwise fail to maneuver the energy than he would be to hit a target.
"Only if you are open to trying it, of course. You haven't demonstrated much interest in power beyond what you're normally capable of through your own strength. So, you're hardly under any obligation to satisfy my curiosity."
The healing factor notwithstanding with Vergil's conclusions, anyway. But even then, Mizu has seen what Vergil can do. It's not as though he would lack the imagination to request something similar to put himself at more even footing with Vergil than what he possesses now or before. So that means he knowingly chose something greater than his natural ability and yet not the greatest that it could be. As much as he wants to defeat Vergil, a sheer triumph of raw power and strength is not the way he wants to do it.
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An impurity in the right place, swordfather's words, feel like the best that could truly be her.
Mizu is human, where Vergil is half-demon in his world's sense of demon. There is no argument there. Simply as a way to talk about it... Mizu has to focus to pay attention to the rest of his explanation, a succinct description of Devil Arms if Mizu has to bet. There's more behind the making of any weapon, and these which have some property once they're made, even more so. It is also easier to follow along as Mizu contemplates the fight she had as Vergil last night, an experience that felt real and true and exhilarating. She remembers putting her will into Mirage Edge, into using its abilities, yet Mizu has no doubt that's only because the fox spirit made her Vergil in whatever that experience was. Short of that, he's right. It can only be a sword in her hands.
What is it that determines whether a human, a person like Mizu, can withstand Mirage Edge's power: strength? Willpower? Whatever it is, if it's possible, Mizu can do it. That much she's sure is true as soon as Vergil raises it, at the memory of its power in her hand. Hubris some might call it, but people have said that of her too many times for Mizu to bother counting. It's impossible. You can't do it. Watch her.
Vergil raises a good point. She will not have access to Mirage Edge or any Devil Arms when she returns home. She does not assume that she can bring anything home with her, especially weapons, the way that weapons did not come with her when she arrived. Fortunately for Mizu, the weapons she wielded had no sentimental value to her, having been taken from its use against her to be wielded for her. So there's no promise of any payoff, any return on her quest for revenge, in testing this.
"I doubt I would have come up with the idea on my own," Mizu says, "for the reasons you say. My focus is on what I am capable of and what I will have access to when I seek my revenge. It is most likely that it will do nothing for me in that regard, so that is not a reason to attempt it."
Mizu then shrugs. "Not all training has an immediate connection to the end goal, something clear and specific. It is still possible I'll learn something useful from it or test myself in some way similar to what I'll face ahead. The unknown if nothing else. As much as I read and study what I can of London and its surrounds, there is no guarantee what I read is for the London of my world. With a fox spirit's trickster nature, it could all be for something else, and I will still have to adapt upon my arrival. In that way, it could be considered practice, even as it seems a wholly different task.
"Besides which, it may be enjoyable on its own to satisfy your curiosity and prove myself capable."
No lack of confidence on her part. Mizu motions to the tea shop ahead, one where they can sit on cushions around a low table while served tea in ways not entirely foreign to Mizu and Japan in her time.
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"Then we shall set aside time for it before our blades next meet," he says with a slight nod.
Vergil steps into the tea shop first. Most would probably not notice it with how subtle he goes about it, but it may not escape Mizu's notice. A handful of months in Folkmore is hardly enough to undo the childhood he spent being hunted or the decade he spent clawing his way back to himself. Vergil thoroughly scans the whole of the shop, assessing it without a single word the entirety of their short walk to their table. Vergil's guard does not lower even once they are seated, but his attention does center more on Mizu once again. He had been much the same at Farm to Sky at first. Without something like the comforting distraction of books at the library, the openness of outside, or the control of an environment like either of their abodes, Vergil is initially prone to more caution with his environment.
"I assume you have questions."
It's only a brief internal debate of how to proceed given that small talk had already been removed from the list of potential options. It really only boiled down to the matter of which of them would need to speak on what the other saw first. As much as Vergil does not want to speak on the matter of that memory—the slight pursing of his lips and furrow in his brow belying that fact—Vergil would rather be the one to decide to share it by inviting whatever questions or remarks Mizu may have than have any further of his control regarding it taken from him.
Besides, it seems so often when they have these sorts of conversations, it's Mizu that often takes the first step. It would be a lie to say that Mizu's willingness to do as much doesn't subsequently make easier for Vergil to return the same. But it can not always be Mizu who takes the first step. Inept as Vergil often feels in navigating his...relationships with others, he knows that much. At some point, patience for his reticence will run out even with someone as equally reserved as Mizu seems to be.
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"We can cross blades so often now, it should not take much time."
A couple days rest is the most she needs. Other matters on her schedule, reading in the library and training hand to hand with others, simply need her attention as well. Her injuries and healing are no longer the limiting factor to their sparring. A surprising but welcome change. Mizu also does not want to pester Vergil with so frequent fights that he grows bored of them and her, should she not improve from fight to fight. It's why she hasn't grappled with him since that time in his apartment. The next time they do, she intends to win.
Mizu lets Vergil enter the shop first, checking the outside for anyone paying close attention to them before scanning the tea shop for anything out of the ordinary. She recognizes the other customers in there at this time. That familiarity does not breed complacency, but she can confirm their behavior, from choice of table to the smell of the tea, is typical for them. For all Vergil says nothing, Mizu is too familiar with doing the same not to expect it, not to notice it. She knows this tea shop, however, so much as is possible. Though she hasn't used them, she knows where the other exits are, those meant for the staff. It's as safe as a semi-public space will be here. Which only says as much as one thinks one is safe.
She makes eye contact with the proprietor and nods to indicate her usual tea order. Mizu does not know what tea Vergil prefers, but if he does not like it, he can always order more. Most likely, he's not picky and will drink what comes to the table. Since the tea is of decent quality, Mizu herself could drink any of it.
"I take it that fight actually happened, roughly how I experienced it," Mizu says to lay the groundwork. There is more she wants to know about it, about his twin Dante and him, about what happened that it came to that. Vergil, and Mizu as Vergil, fought Dante fiercely, but at the end of the day, Dante did not want his brother dead. It isn't as simple a matter as her seeking her fathers' deaths.
Mizu did not anticipate Vergil to offer to discuss matters, even if that doesn't promise answers. Vergil's clearly stated how much he wants his privacy respected and does not expect the fox spirit to permit it. Mizu isn't the fox spirit, however, and should he not want to answer a single question or discuss it, she would have left it at that. For all it was mostly a fight, it spoke to issues it left her curious about. The ones she will ask about and he will answer, or not, as he sees fit.
Well, he offered.
"My first two questions go hand in hand, two sides of the same blade. Why were you fighting and what is your relationship like, that you can fight so hard but not want to kill each other?" Simple questions but it asks about so much.
cw: mention of attempted child murder
"I told you the day we met, I did terrible things in my pursuit of power because of the day my mother died," he says, lifting his gaze again. Vergil doesn't bother with reiterating the truth of what he said. The spell that was keeping them trapped in that library eroding as a result of his words was evidence enough of the truth they carried. "I thought my brother also died that day. He thought the same of me. We learned roughly a year prior to what you witnessed that other was alive more by happenstance than intention.
"To me, until I knew that he survived that day, Mother tried to protect him and failed, and she..." It's here that Vergil falters. His gaze drops again. He supposes it's shame that he's experiencing now. Perhaps guilt. Certainly regret. He had spent so much of his life resenting his mother, her weakness, and her seeming betrayal. It's inarguable how much of it shaped his life, drove his decisions. But regardless of what he feels, it does not unmake the truth that it had been his belief for so long. "And she abandoned me to die."
No matter how much he cried and helplessly reached for her, she never appeared. She never made the pain stop. She never chased away or defeated the demons that attacked him. He was alone.
Vergil attempts to lift his gaze again, but it takes another try before he can bring himself to look at Mizu again.
"Dante knew the truth of her death. She hid Dante away to protect him. She died looking for me. To him, even though he disappeared years ago, it was Father that abandoned us and allowed his mother and brother to die."
It's not the entire answer to Mizu's question, but it's the foundation of where their disagreement first began.
CW: references to fire, drug addiction, and betrayal/killing within the family
There is more in common to their life experiences than Mizu is wholly comfortable with. Listening to Vergil forces her to think of her mother, her far worse mother (not actually her mother) who abandoned Mizu when Mizu thought she died and left her to fend for herself on the streets as a small child. A woman who then convinced Mizu to get married in order to take care of her and to feed her opium addiction. Then, once cut off—
Mizu does not know which of them betrayed her. Her mother or her husband. It doesn't matter. Someone betrayed her, gave her location in hopes of reward money.
How frustrating that Vergil had to live thinking that his mother betrayed him and abandoned him to die as a small child when she died attempting to save him. He's spoken well of his mother, but those feelings must come after long reflection and the time to understand and change those formative feelings inside. Mizu is not sure she could do the same if she learned one of her potential fathers actually had her secreted away. Then again, they are all terrible men, and given the one who is her father likely ordered her death, it's unlikely any of the others would bother to intervene. Not an issue she will have to face. Vergil, but Vergil. He learned Dante lived a year before this, but when did he learn his mother died trying to save him? Did he even know?
Vergil looks uncomfortable, and the topic is clearly a painful one. Mizu knows nothing about how to comfort someone. She's glad when the tea arrives. Mizu does all she knows. She pours him a cup of hot tea and pushes the cup gently across the table at him. Drink some tea. Maybe that will help.
"So..." Mizu reasons out, "You resented your mother and Dante your father when you each learned the other survived. You'd relied on your father's power to survive. Dante lived because of your mother. That is a circumstance set up for conflict and misunderstanding. I'd say you're at least half as stubborn as me, and even half is more than enough to spark a major disagreement." It's something of a joke, as Mizu knows he may be equally as stubborn as her. However, that kind of stubbornness makes sense that it might lead to this. If Dante is anything like his brother, he'll be equally stubborn in kind.
"If you are willing, I would like to hear more," Mizu says, "You can stop it whenever you choose." She is not a fox spirit, and unless the fox spirit comes and locks them up again until they share, she sees no reason to force his hand.
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He waves his free hand a little in both acknowledgement and dismissal of Mizu's disclaimer. Vergil is appreciative hearing it, but it's something that didn't need saying. Mizu has hardly been the type to pry and it would take a great deal more coercion than even what Thirteen has implemented to cause Vergil to say anything he does not have any will or wish to say. And maybe that's why despite Vergil's general reluctance for the topic itself, he's willing to part with more when it comes to Mizu than he would most. Assuming they could stomach the ugly reality that has been Vergil's life to this point, other Star Children would not be able to reason anything out for themselves. They would ask more questions, pry deeper and for more in trying to understand him all while offering the guise that they aren't interested in answers that might otherwise satisfy their incessant need to understand. Mizu understood enough, and what he could not understand, he seemed to let be without making assumptions or judgments.
"Both of our resentments began long before discovering the other lived," he says, providing minor correction with a small shake of his head. "I rejected my humanity. Dante rejected the power given to him by Father. That only changed for Dante when he felt he needed to stop me lest I bring about more destruction."
It was likely clear from the dream to Mizu that Vergil certainly back then didn't feel as though he needed stopping with how fiercely he fought. Pushing himself well past his limits until Dante delivered what would have otherwise been a mortal blow to a weaker being. But now...? It's certainly more complicated than that. The destruction Vergil caused was a by-product, not his intention. If there was any notion on Dante's part that the power of Sparda would be used for ill like that, well, he would be sorely mistaken. But he was right to fear that Vergil would have stopped at nothing to obtain absolute power. The cost didn't matter to to Vergil back then. He had long since stopped being the boy who found his connection in poetry. He fled from that small chance of happiness out of fear he would not be strong enough to protect a future, a family he so desperately craved and yet denied himself. Survival was all that did because it is all that his circumstances, to a certain degree, and he, to a much larger one, left himself with.
"I was slower to change than him," he says before having a sip of the tea.
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Vergil previously spoke about destroying a whole city. Mizu may not know where that lands in relation to the memory she experienced, but it does not take that level of destruction to get someone's attention. Lower levels, escalating levels, well, it sounds like her to some extent. Fortunately for Japan, Mizu doesn't seek power the way Vergil does. Her goals are more modest. Four dead men, along with however many get in her way. A lot that get in her way. What Vergil did affected a great many people. It probably affected something Dante cared about a great deal. After all, he fought hard and sustained terrible injuries as much as Vergil did. Or perhaps Dante feels a sense of honor and Vergil being his brother makes him responsible. Mizu certainly knows how far stubborn foolish men can go when they think their honor is on the line. Mizu doesn't know Dante nearly so well as Vergil, having only heard of him from Vergil a couple times and now living this memory. She cannot settle on any one of those explanations definitively being the answer.
"He had a larger impetus," Mizu says without judgment of either brother. Vergil's actions were something immediate and demanding. So far as Mizu knows, Vergil didn't have the same, not then, and to some extent, she's not sure he has something that large now. He's changed despite that. It's more impressive to change when it is not forced upon you. Of course, Mizu has been the same ever since she was a small child, as dedicated as ever. It will take more than she's ever seen to change her. Mizu has no interest in changing herself.
Despite everything Vergil wanted, despite Dante being in his way, Vergil still didn't want to kill his brother. Not entirely as single minded as he supposed.
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"I suppose."
It's a bit of a non-committal answer, of course, but not an outright denial or disagreement for what Mizu says. Which is really all Vergil can do because arguing against it would be akin to arguing the sun occupies the sky at night rather than the day. Dante had so much more to lose than Vergil it would seem. From what scant glance Vergil had of Dante's life and the assumptions Vergil had felt more than comfortable to make at the time, Dante had something. There were connections. People in his life. He had a direction. Purpose. The only thing Vergil could really criticize was how weak he was. It seemed foolish if not outright stupid to Vergil that Dante would dare build something for himself and to then leave himself so vulnerable that it might be all stripped away from him.
Then again, he had been protected. He hadn't known loss as Vergil knew it. Baffling as it was, it seemed to be ignorance more than anything that Dante did not understand why Vergil found power to be so necessary.
So, of course, if he felt Vergil was a threat to all that he might have built for himself or would perhaps someday build...
But Vergil could never really understand why only then did it sink in for Dante? What granted him the insight and understanding that he needed to stop messing around, to stop rejecting his heritage, and take things seriously? He doesn't sincerely think it was him that provided Dante with that motivation. Dante knew the score a year before Temen-ni-gru was raised. He had all that time to grow stronger, to stand a better fight against Vergil when they would meet again, and he did nothing in that time. He was exactly the same as Vergil found him a year prior. Weak. Hateful of the very thing he was. Disowning their father and resentful of the legacy Sparda left behind for his sons.
Whatever it was though, something in Dante changed. It changed and he grew so much stronger that he defeated Vergil. Not in an easy manner, of course. Vergil was far too stubborn even as fatigued as he was at the start of the fight after their previous bouts, the conflict with Arkham's foolish daughter, and Arkham himself. But it was a clear and final victory, and why Vergil left behind Force Edge. His defeat left him unworthy of his father's blade. But his half of the amulet... That was Vergil's. It was a gift from their mother, her last gift to each of her boys. Resentful as he had been of Eva at the time, he refused to let that go. He refuses to let it go now where it lays hidden beneath his shirt just above his heart. Vergil does not reach for it, but he pictures it in his mind's eye and draws a small amount of comfort for its presence.
"As to your other question, why we were fighting in that moment, it was over our father's power," he continues, leaving his private questions unanswered. "Our amulets must be joined together to awaken the power of Sparda that lies dormant within Force Edge. Otherwise, the blade is arguably little more than Mirage Edge. Perhaps even less.
"I wanted to claim it for myself after all that I had done to obtain it. I don't believe Dante wanted it for himself necessarily. I believe he simply did not want me to have it. He feared what I would do with its power. And he knew if he did not defeat me, I would not stop."
And defeat Vergil is exactly what Dante did as Mizu witnessed and experienced for himself. He knew there was the chance it would mean one or both of their deaths, but it was what he felt he had to do just as Vergil felt he had to claim Sparda's power for himself regardless of the cost. They were more diametrically opposed than they ever had been before in that moment, and there was no other way forward to either brother but through the other.
"And he was right. I would not have stopped until I had the power I sought." Vergil looks down at the tea in his cup. His fingers curl just ever so slightly tighter around his cup. "But after all that I had sacrificed and lost... I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't worthy of that power."
He forces himself to release the cup, folding his arms instead as he raises his eyes to Mizu once more.
"Force Edge was Dante's after that, but I would not allow him to claim my half of the amulet."
Vergil was defeated, but he would not allow him to be stripped of anything further than that which he attempted to take for himself. What he had, Vergil would have rather died than concede even to Dante as another son of Sparda. Bruised and battered as his pride has been, he would not allow it to crumble to ash after everything.
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Mizu sips her tea slowly and listens. The answer is power. It was always going to be power for Vergil. The specifics are interesting, and Mizu remembers Vergil seeing Vergil wearing a pendant a few times. He even removed it and left it by the bed, by Mizu, when she was recovering there when he made her food. Given how little Vergil owns, it's easy to notice those details.
The moment he calls himself not worthy, Mizu crosses her arms and bites back on immediate sharp words. Not worthy? Because he didn't defeat Dante when he started a fight like Mizu so frequently does—injured and not at a hundred percent? Because he didn't physically take Dante's half of the amulet from him? Because he failed at something for "once" in his life? The way he puts it, the only way to deserve to have power is power, which makes getting more power a nonstarter unless you act the bully. Perhaps Vergil did. He also put his life on the line for what he wanted time and again, and that's more than any rich man sitting protected in his castle not lifting a finger for what he has.
"That's why you fell? To prevent Dante from getting it?" Mizu mulls it over, what Dante was like at the end. It seems possible he'd do that. Not from a power hungry sense but as Vergil said. Still, if the amulet does nothing else on its own in half, Vergil hasn't lost power. If Dante sets it aside, doesn't use it, he's not in so different a spot. If Vergil's willing to steal instead of fight openly for it. That probably doesn't seem as powerful. In some ways, that desire for power is akin to the idea of honor. There is a way to do things, as opposed to the results. Simply the results.
"Plus you're wrong. You are worthy of that power." Mizu meets his gaze, refusing to back down from the statement. She might not have any authority on the matter, but she doesn't care. It is what it is. That's that.
cw: allusion to torture & mind control
He's slaughtered not one, but two cities for the sake of power and self-preservation. He abandoned a woman who gave him a son because he was too fearful of what he felt for her and what would become of him if he made allowances for a feeling as weak and vulnerable as love and happiness when he did not yet possess the strength to protect it. He never had a chance to know of Nero. He belittled his brother, rejected and scorned him for extending his hand when Dante had absolutely every reason to abandon him. He fell to his father's enemy, the orchestrator of his mother's murder. He was twisted and broken, hollowed out into a mindless thing that then served that very same demon. He hated his mother for abandoning him, hated himself for being too weak to save her or Dante in his father's stead, hated himself even more for allowing Mundus to eventually break him.
Where in any of that did Vergil prove himself worthy of Sparda's true power? It's a life marked by failure after failure. A fact that Vergil has denied for so long, and only just recently has begun to reconcile. There is so much that Vergil still yet needs to atone for as he tries to find his path ahead. And with his humanity, it also means that Vergil must sit with the weight of his wrongdoings, and tolerate the discomfort of it all to the extent that he can. It's a horrible feeling when Vergil allows it to come at rest like this in his heart.
Vergil's lips press together once more, and his gaze drops. He can't pinpoint the reason why the words turn to ash in his mouth and die before he can even form a sound. It could be the shame of it all. For as much as Vergil is capable now of realizing how wrong he was, he is no better equipped to sit with that sharp pain than he was before he accepted his humanity. It could just be simply knowing Mizu is far too damned stubborn to be convinced, and anything Vergil might say will only sound like self-pitying nonsense. It could just be that he knows Mizu does not know enough to truly have an informed perspective on the matter, and so it makes little sense to argue with him anyway. It could just be that Vergil selfishly and desperately wishes Mizu was right when he knows in his core the truth is he isn't worthy yet. Whatever the reason, he says nothing in protest. Vergil doesn't know if that's the right thing to do, but it feels the only thing he can do. His fingers flex against his arm slightly.
"I kept my amulet and fell because I had nothing left." Or so he thought, in any case. Vergil couldn't accept Dante at the time. He didn't know Nero existed and he had assumed his mother moved on after Vergil left. He had spent his life alone and on his own, and he loathed humans. There was no reason to stay. "I assumed if I could grow stronger like my father before me in the demon world, I could find my way back and take what was mine."
He shakes his head a little, silently indicating that hindsight demonstrated the plan to be a foolish one. Vergil doesn't speak a word of it, but it wouldn't be unfair for Mizu to assume that wasn't how matters developed for Vergil. He leans forward, resting his arms on the table as his frown deepens.
"I have made a terrible amount of mistakes in my life, Mizu. What you witnessed was among the worst of them."
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Her mouth twists when Vergil says he had nothing left. Mizu disagrees with that too and not only because of Nero. Power is an incredible set of blinders, and their force continues to hold. What if Nero hadn't existed? Would he still say he was wrong about nothing left? There was a whole ass brother standing right in front of him.
She takes a long breath and shakes her head. Vergil has found his way out of the demon world, but he still doesn't have his father's power. It's a terrible plan. Not terrible unlike one of hers, except she generally believes she's strong enough already. Oh, and she brings supplies when she needs them. Still, they don't fall too far away from each other on that point. Plus, the first time she thought that, when she tried to bribe information out of black market traders, she got a terrible knife wound for her trouble. She needed more experience before she was as good as she is now. She's made her mistakes and walked into traps with open arms. Mizu does what she needs to do.
Vergil too.
"You were a real dumbass there," Mizu agrees, "You've made mistakes. I couldn't argue with that. You also kept going, kept trying, and continue to do so now. You don't deserve Sparda's power because you can move across space faster than I can see or because you can give yourself uncuttable skin or any of that stuff. You deserve it because you don't give up. Because you taught yourself how to forge your power. Because you will do what you think you should do no matter who gets in your way. If that doesn't sound like the demon who loved a human no matter what the other demons thought, I don't know what would."
Mizu makes sure she has Vergil's attention and he's not lost in old mistakes.
"You don't have to become Sparda to deserve it."
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Vergil's heart leaps into his throat, and for a brief moment it feels as though all the air in his lungs has been taken from him. He feels immediately foolish for it, his face warming against his will as he diverts his gaze once more.
He could dismiss everything Mizu is saying. It's not as though the question of which of Sparda's sons will be strong and capable enough to wield Sparda's power has been left unanswered. Vergil never tried to claim it for himself again, and the Devil Sword Sparda has been absorbed into Dante's own Devil Arm by now. It's also not as though Mizu has all that much knowledge of everything in Vergil's world either. Both could quickly and readily undermine Mizu's opinion, rendering it as useful as baseless flattery. But Vergil does no such thing because he recognizes it finally from what feels a lifetime ago. It had been among dusty, forgotten tomes then. Late at night when it was less likely they would be disturbed. Vergil couldn't say then and he couldn't say now what exactly changed, but she saw him as he was and not as the son of the savior for the first time. And for the first time, Vergil wanted something for himself other than power.
He should dismiss everything Mizu says in whatever way he can. He shouldn't place much value in anything Mizu might think about him. They should just share in their mutual respect for the other as warriors and spar, ensure that Mizu will have all he needs for his revenge while Vergil avoids boredom and stagnation, and that should be the end of it. There is no need nor desire for anything more than that. Their pragmatic agreements have reflected that time and time again.
Vergil reaches for his cup again before straightening himself out.
But connection has been such a rare thing in Vergil's life. It's hard not to feel... Well, it's hard not to feel in general these days, but especially not the warmth and want for more.
"I'm sure your swordfather would be surprised to learn he raised a wiseman," he says as he brings his cup to his lips.
Vergil doesn't dismiss anything. Instead, he simply keeps them—Mizu's words and the small ember they sparked—close.
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Despite that, it feels like stepping forward, stepping close with a strike, and Mizu waits for Vergil's reaction and his response. There's something enjoyable to watching such a strong and striking reaction. The color in his cheeks and the way Vergil turns away from her. It's an initial reaction, a pulling back, what Mizu would expect of anyone. Vergil hasn't run away from her yet, and it's a relief when he stays there in the tea shop at their table. She still has a sparring partner, and Mizu will get to try to wield his sword. It's possible they won't part ways until one of them leaves Folkmore. That'd be a pleasant surprise in its own right. The fact they both know it's temporary, that they will leave, might make it easier to stay now.
His response halts her thoughts in their tracks. Her hand reaches for the back of her head on instinct, and she shakes her head slightly to clear her own thoughts. Her heart aches thinking of swordfather and seeing him again after years apart. "He called me a stupid lost man when I left," Mizu says. There's nothing in the memory Vergil experienced to tell him that. She doesn't have to share, but the comment landed true. Their conversations stick in her mind. Mizu grits her teeth as she thinks of the errand she was on before running into Vergil. "That he did not have steel for me when I returned."
The heat rises to her cheeks, and Mizu deflates slightly. Master Eiji's words did not change her path. She went to Edo and confronted Fowler. He disapproved of the anger raging in her heart and said she would frighten the boy she once was. Except there he was wrong. Mizu has always been this angry. It drove her to train and to learn every sword style she witnessed time and again. It pushed her to leave.
Mizu straightens. Swordfather's words are personal and kept close to her heart. While she will do what she will do, no one else's opinion matters nearly so much. She remembers their conversation on the cliff, and it warms her head even as she can feel the light bonk. He didn't raise her to be a demon or a human but an artist. Those are his words. An idea she struggles with in the context of revenge. She sips more of the tea. "So it would certainly surprise him to learn I'm wise."
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Vergil sets his cup down in front of him, holding it now between both of his hands as his forearms rest on the table. He considers his next words for a moment, knowing that commenting upon such matters runs a great deal of risk albeit no greater than the one Mizu took in commenting upon Vergil's mistakes.
"He wasn't entirely wrong," he says. "You have a fire inside you, Mizu. I see it each time in your eyes when we fight. It burns brilliantly. You have a true mastery and artistry to your swordsmanship. You are more yourself with a blade in your hand than you likely are any other time."
Vergil pauses a moment, tapping a finger idly against his cup before he continues.
"But that fire can begin to rage, and it grows hungrier for more kindling. And you become all too eager to give yourself to the flames if you feel it will reach your goal." Vergil saw it the first time they sparred. His yielding was not because Mizu had gotten to a point where he had genuinely pushed Vergil to his limits, but rather because Vergil feared if he didn't put a stop to it, Mizu would be unable to stop himself. Even if Mizu tried to dress it up as though death were a non-issue here given the nature of Folkmore, it did not change facts: Mizu would either obtain his revenge or die trying. Any other potential outcomes were unacceptable. "Knowing that, I cannot fault a father for not wanting to lend a hand to his child's self-destruction."
Thus, refusing Mizu steel was likely the only thing that Master Eiji could do if Mizu would not listen to reason. Vergil tips his head slightly as a thought begins to occur to him.
"Is that why you hesitate with your own blade?"
Mizu said his own blade was made wrong, and that was why he still carries and wields the sword he pulled from the library book all those months ago. But it was more than just steel that was pieced together wrong if what Mizu said of Master Eiji's philosophy in swordmaking and what Vergil observed firsthand for himself in the tedious amount of kitchen knives he made in the dream. The wielder must bear no secrets to the smith. The smith must empty himself and allow the sword must be allowed to be what it will be. In this case, both wielder and smith are the same, but can Mizu claim to be capable of either requirement?
Vergil isn't truly the judge of that. In that regard, Mizu is a better one and Master Eiji is likely the best. But a man that seems so similarly alone to how Vergil has been alone cannot do anything but carry secrets for there is no one to bear them with him. And a man so filled with anger that rises to uncontrollable, all-consuming rage cannot likely let go of it long enough to empty himself because without it, he likely does not know what else is there. Mizu keeps a tight grip upon his will, it seems unlikely that he would have the ability to let a sword for himself to be what it will be.
CW: references to fire, death from fire, and murder including children
Mizu barely bristles at Vergil's words. She gives everything to her revenge, and her willingness to commit herself and her life to attaining it gives her an edge over the greedy fools in her way who only want money or an easy life. It remains true that Edo burned to the ground due to her fight with Fowler. Mizu isn't the one who paid the price but all those people. She doesn't bother justifying it as saving them from Fowler and what he'd do to Japan. That wasn't her reason. Vergil's not wrong, at the root of it. That's simply not enough to stop her.
She startles only when Vergil refers to Master Eiji as a father. Her father. Mizu doesn't know how Vergil got that impression, whether it's from something she's said or from the memory he relived last night, but her father tried to kill her. Her father still has a bounty on her head. Her father is no father to her. Mizu has no father.
"Master Eiji isn't my father," Mizu says softly. How much better her life would be if he were, but that's not how life went. A correction. "You can not fault a master for not wanting to lend a hand to his apprentice's self-destruction."
If self-actualization means self-destruction so be it. Mizu committed to this path long ago, and even though her mother wasn't the mother Mizu thought she was and didn't die when their cottage burned down, Mizu's commitment was real. It remains so, for her own sake. Possibly for her mother's, her real mother's. A woman she's never known. A woman likely long dead due to the same men who want her dead.
The question hardly registers. Mizu hears it, but it's not urgent, not important, compared to the issue of fatherhood. For all she has a multitude of fathers—four possible fathers—she also has none. They are terrible men who want her dead and who would kill her without a second thought. Fowler killed all his children he knew about and their mothers too. Mizu doesn't know why she survived when all those potential siblings did not, but she will make all those men live to regret it and to justify the fear that drove them to place a high bounty on her head from before she could even hold her own head up.
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"I still remember what it was to have a father before my own disappeared. He ensured that I was fed and clothed, and that I always had some place to return to each day that was safe and warm. He was strict so that I would know right from wrong. He protected me while ensuring I would know how to protect myself when he was no longer there.
"Master Eiji is not your father by blood," he says, agreeing that far and no further as that was only fact. "But that man loves you, Mizu. And if anything truly terrible were to befall you, to take you away from him forever, it would break his heart. He would not waste his breath in calling you a stupid lost man and refusing you steel as he has if that were not true.
"He would let the sword be what it will be."
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what Vergil takes it to mean. What he wants it to mean.
She flushes slightly at Vergil using the same words back at her. Master Eiji's words. He's wrong. Master Eiji has denied people swords before. That's why blood soaked Chiaki lied to them to get his hands on a sword. Even a broken blade by Master Eiji's hands was better than one from another smith. If swordfather didn't know Mizu and she came asking for a sword, he might well refuse.
The problem is that wrong as Vergil is the words remain powerful.
She remembers his question about her sword. That is easier than the matter of Master Eiji. "I forged new steel before I came here and left it in sword— Master Eiji's care," Mizu explains, "I planned to return after I killed Fowler for him to decide if I were worthy of a new sword."
Master Eiji isn't here. Mizu is close but hasn't quite killed Fowler yet. Those conditions haven't been met. They cannot be met so long as Mizu is in Folkmore. The endeavor has been paused. That's how it felt for a long time. It was mockery to return to her the sword, whole and intact from before Fowler broke it, rather than the new steel she forged. The fox spirit doesn't make judgments the way people do, but it was hard not to feel disconnected from everything she put into making that new steel.
"I am going to make my own sword," Mizu declares fiercely. She will face that test again and see whether the steel will form for her. After feeling Yamato in her hand last night, Mizu needs to. No more handicapping herself with a sword that isn't hers.
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But Vergil isn't one to forget, and the way Mizu quickly avoids the subject is certainly not something Vergil will entirely cast aside.
So, for now, Vergil remembers that Mizu had been hesitant at the idea of forging his sword anew. He indicated that it wasn't time for an endeavor. The wrongness of the blade had been too great a matter for Mizu to comfortably address.
"What's changed?" he asks, not bothering to mask his curiosity. "It was not that long ago, you seemed closer to dismissing the idea altogether when last we spoke of it, and in less time than that, you seemed a little uncertain about your ability to forge a blade for another here."
Not entirely uncertain, of course. Otherwise, Vergil would have called it doubt. Mizu seems to know his skills well enough that he knows the blade he makes will be a sturdy, well-balanced one with a sharp edge. But it seemed a different matter to make something for someone from another world that would satisfactorily match its wielder. This declaration didn't carry any such uncertainty.
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So he can think her a coward, but she does not need others here to consider her more monstrous than they already do.
The sword is why she left her home that morning. The sword is the focus of her thoughts, more important than talking of Vergil's past, more important than anything they talk about, and thus the most important thing they could talk about. Her abilities haven't changed, but the drive and the need to go through the process have. The sword she was so proud of, the sword that was too brittle, the sword that broke, will not be allowed to haunt her any longer. Master Eiji's approval is impossible to receive. Mizu must do things as he taught her.
Reforging the steel will be similar but completely different than before. Master Eiji said a good artist puts everything into their work. That included the bell she bought Ringo that he returned to her, a set of tongs from swordfather, and a makeshift furnace she built by hand. In Folkmore, it will be different, but Mizu has slowly gathered some supplies for it from the start. Vergil's discarded glove. The wood Sephiroth split with her blade to demonstrate his technique. Rin's... something of Rin's. Even the map of London she found and took that first day in the library. It will not be the same steel she made before, but Mizu is not in the same place as she was then. She does not expect this sword to come with her when she leaves this place, but it will be her sword in Folkmore.
"I held Yamato," Mizu says, "I was you. I held your sword, and in the dream, in the memory, it was my sword. I fought with my sword. The right sword. Untainted by being made wrong. The rightness of it." Mizu holds up her hand, unable to find quite the right words. "I can hold that feeling inside me and make the right sword."
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He hums thoughtfully at Mizu's words.
"I'll look forward to defeating you then. Not that I don't take some satisfaction in it now, but it will be better to defeat the true you. Not just the one making do with what's lying around."
He's teasing as he usually does, perennially confident in his ability to best Mizu in a fight with not unearned confidence, but Vergil is also sincere in the sentiment as well. He would like to see what Mizu fights like when holding a blade that belongs to him, not a borrowed one that he has had to make adjustments to adapt to using. Vergil imagines there are bound to be a few differences in how Mizu conducts himself in a fight just as he changes his own style and approach with Yamato in his hands versus Mirage Edge.
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