For all that Vergil has grown, for all that he has settled more comfortably into his own humanity and emotions, it remains a difficult question that she asks. What he wants. What he needs. He rarely has an answer for that to give to another person even on the rare occasion that he wishes he had an answer to give. It feels like a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach now. But Mizu grips his hands tight and he cannot look away even as uncertainty makes its way into his gaze. No answers lie within her eyes, but it does not stop him from searching for it all the same. Just as she is not accustomed to these conversations, neither is he. He shakes his head a little.
"I...I do not know," he answers honestly. "I do no trust easily. I never have. I do not know what it is to place trust in another, to have that trust broken, and what is to come next beyond a parting of ways if not retribution."
Slowly, he releases one of her hands to place his over her heart. He feels the steady pulse of it beneath his palm. He looks at it, almost as if fascinated by it.
"But I love you. Against all reason, I love you so completely that I could never allow us to part for that reason, nor could I ever reach such a degree of ire for you to seek anything close to resembling retaliation." Vergil lifts his gaze once more to her eyes after another moment. "You once promised me everything. And I thought I had come to possess it all upon that promise, but..."
He trails off, glancing down at his hand over her heart. With a thick swallow, he raises his gaze again.
"I need that promise to be true this time." His hand slips from her heart to wrap around her middle, releasing her other hand to draw her further into the partial embrace. "There is to be nothing we cannot speak of, cannot share in. For as long as we are both here, we need to be together in all matters. I do not need you to protect me from yourself, Mizu."
Vergil rests his forehead against hers, closing his eyes.
"I need you to trust me. If you truly intend to choose us, if this is what you desire, I need you to trust me. For as long as we remain here in this place, I need you to trust us."
Vergil describes her experience with trust in relationships. Once broken, gone. Today is not the first time she's tried to move past it, but it's the first time she's tried upon wronging someone so truly and deeply. It's why she sought wisdom from others; Mizu knows she lacks it. Vergil stayed that night, and he came back. Mizu has to believe that means something. There's more than no path forward. They may walk through wilderness in a blizzard, blind to the way before them, but it exists.
Her hand stays by her side, cool without Vergil's gentle furnace against it. She reaches partway toward him but waits. Much as she blinks away tears at hearing he still loves her, everything feels uncertain—her future on the edge of a blade. It feels like swordfather testing the balance, a moment of truth. It wavers in the implication she broke that promise, that she promised Vergil everything and denied it to him. Yet it's simply looking at what she did, what she's already said, another way. It stings, and it may never stop hurting entirely. Mizu's grown used to hurts, plenty of them ones she's done to herself. That doesn't make it hurt less, to be used to them.
Tentatively, she rests her hands on Vergil's shoulders. Mizu takes deep breaths and her time. It's not a conversation for knee jerk reactions or her first thoughts. When she's hurt him so terribly, it feels strange to hear she need not protect him from herself. She's done so much hurt. It's nearly torn them apart. It still could. No, Mizu stops herself. Little as she can believe it, he's asking her to trust him, to trust them, to trust they still are. It's less a matter of faith than choice. Mizu can walk the steps forward, and they will be her steps. In choosing to trust them, she can learn to trust them.
"I love you," Mizu says, and she commits to her decision and her words. She wraps her arms around Vergil's neck. His hair brushes against one hand, and she lets herself slide her fingers into it. "I don't know whether it will help or hurt my revenge. If I can find a way to be a good artist, it will help, but I want it either way. Good artist or bad. I've lost everything I wanted in life to my fathers, and they cannot have you too."
There's no being selfless and letting Vergil go. That was idiocy on her part. They care too much for each other, Vergil loves her too much, not to be hurt in time. They've talked about it before, her leaving. It always felt far off and distant, but it's felt all the more real and close of late. Not so close as to happen this week or this month, especially given how little time she's put into it lately. Yet for whatever reason, the fox spirit chooses to share more of the information she needs. It's a matter of time.
"I'm ugly and callous and sharp," Mizu says baldly. She doesn't mean ugly physically, but she's committed terrible deeds in her search for vengeance, some of which Vergil already knows. "And yours. Ours. I have chosen us, I have chosen you, and I will not shy away from that choice and what it requires. The one thing I could not give up for it, my revenge, I know you won't ask for."
Another ugly truth. That remains. She will leave someday for it, not the departure of all those ripped away by the fox spirit time and again but an active choice. An ugly choice but one she trusts Vergil with. He's always known and always accepted it. It's no sudden or unexpected statement here. One they've talked about, and Mizu's sure he understands. "You would never ask for my life."
He only ever asked her to delay her revenge when he thought it might cost her her life. Small as Mizu feels, she also feels safe. Vergil's arms have always been safe since the first time she found herself within them. Mizu didn't understand then the extent to which they were safe, but she does now. She's missed that feeling in his absence and with it a sense of groundedness. The cold grounds her, but it's not the same.
Vergil kisses her then, and it feels all at once like he is returning home and so very treacherous. Just as it had that day by the spring when with all the ugly truths and his secret desire before him. He knows one day she will be beyond his reach, her fate unknown to him. He knows he will not just be hurt that he feels, but a different sort of grief than those he's known before. But she is warm in his arms, her fingers are soothing in his hair, and her lips are pressed against his, and for this moment, this is all that matters to him. Vergil sighs softly as they part, lips only moving so far from Mizu's that it would be only all too easy for them to meet again as he lingers there. He lightly, affectionately bumps noses with her before slowly opening his eyes again. This close, it's difficult to focus on any of her features, but still his gaze wanders her face.
"All I ask is that you stay," he says. "Until it's time for you to leave this place, stay with me. Please, Mizu."
They've kissed more times than Mizu has bothered to count. What few she's counted in months are those Vergil made her pay to get out of bed, ones she was only too happy to give. His lips are as soft, and heat still emanates slightly more than it does most people. It's entirely like any other kiss, but it feels more dangerous all the same. Perhaps more like the kiss before Mizu removed her top at the spring or the one after. Another moment it could have ended, that she thought it might end, though in hindsight that was a foolish thought.
Something sticks in her thoughts, but it's not the best time to figure out why. Mizu makes note of it and focuses on Vergil. She can smell him, and she's missed that smell. Everything of his has long since lost its familiarity with him, taking on the scents of her life. For whatever reason, he believes her. He's staying.
Mizu nods, ever so slightly. Her life in Folkmore could be like her life back home. It'd be so easy for that to happen. Mizu could make it work. It's what she expected when she arrived, but she's had more. With that taste, she doesn't want to give it up. "All I've done these last weeks is figure out what I want and how to do it. I'm here."
Vergil's next drawn breath feels lighter somehow, although he could not possibly put into words how and why it does. Her promises are reassuring, but they are still words alone. They are not yet made into actions that prove their worth, and it will be a while yet before Vergil can say he truly, fully believes the promises beyond believing them enough to give her this chance. Still, the aches from a month ago have faded, and they grow duller still. His anger, already melted, ebbs away and yields whatever resistance he might have put in place in pursuing what he wants should her answers have proven unsatisfactory. Vergil raises a hand to caress her cheek.
"I suppose I should have considered more the likelihood that you would not last long enough for us to have eaten first," he says with fond amusement. Whatever he had envisioned for today, Vergil should have known better. The conversation hung above them as a Sword of Damocles, and what little bits of connection they might find until it came to be was always going to have to be good enough. Mizu's impulsiveness and impatience was always going to take the lead once he took the first step. His careful attempt at controlling the matter, to minimize the likelihood of further hurt was doomed from the start. He cannot say he minds it. How can he? His reckless fool... His. As promised.
"I've missed you," he whispers, quiet for no reason other than such words are for her to hear alone. Not even the surrounding foliage ought to be privy to them. And that has been the truth since the day they parted. Even with all of his anger, and all of his hurt, Vergil missed Mizu beneath it all. His bed was colder without her beside him. He could sleep with the assurances that Nero and Kyrie were safe, and V was minding himself, but he could not shake the image of Mizu on the floor from his mind so easily. How often he wanted to cast it aside and go to her just to know she was safe, that nothing had happened in his absence. But that was the source of his hurt and his anger, too, and so, he could not bring himself to come near to her sooner than now. No matter how much he missed her. Her scent, the sound of her voice. The bright blue of her eyes that told more than she likely ever intended. He missed the press of her body against his, curled up close and tight in silent slumber. He's missed her fingers in his hair. Her loud cries of ecstasy, and her quiet confessions of love and affection. The furrow in her brow when she cannot understand something readily and every crinkle of her skin that appears when she begins to laugh. He's missed her. He's loved her. No matter how angry or hurt by what she did, he's loved her.
Vergil does not give her time to respond in kind before he's stolen another kiss.
Mizu rarely relies on words to represent what she will or will not do. Oh, they are necessary at times, as part of action, but what can be counted on at the end of the day are actions. They speak louder, longer, and more honestly. This conversation comes from a need for words to precede action, but the proof comes over time. Mizu longs to prove it, to talk and to share whatever might demonstrate her commitment—even as she knows no matter what good might come of that today, it will require tomorrow, the day after, and the day after. Every time they meet, every time something happens.
Her mouth opens slightly at his point they haven't eaten yet. Mizu intended to wait and to have that time together, when it might be their last, when it was what Vergil came for. Yet the longer they walked and talked and were together, the more impossible that felt. Everything tiptoed around the conversation they had not had. Mizu enjoyed learning more about Vergil's childhood, but she could only enjoy it so much. A hand held was closeness and a distance all the same. She—
Perhaps she should have known, even more than Vergil, that the conversation would come first. Mizu shrugs, unapologetic given Vergil's arms around her, the kiss, the closeness that's been missing for weeks. All the careful consideration she's given when she only wanted to go to his home, to hug him, to hold him close. The fear of rejection, the fear of coming over too soon, even once she knew her answer, kept her away. Vergil said he'd stayed, he'd stay, he'd hear her answer. She had to trust he'd come. So when he did, she was ready, as ready as she'd ever be. Mizu could have answered him on her porch. It's more incredible she did not.
Mizu smiles into the kiss, another kiss, not a last kiss. One of many to come. She pulls him close and leans up into him. She takes another short kiss when that one ends, aware of both the soft comfort in his closeness and the deeper hunger that wants all of him. "I missed you too much to wait," Mizu says, "If you wanted to eat first, we should have eaten on the porch, or you could have taken us here directly.
"Foolish to think I could have this much time with you without wanting all the more in the future. Without going for it. Now I need not eat wondering if it's the last time we'll share a meal, and the food will taste all the sweeter."
More seriously, Mizu considers that she knows and understands better what happened that Vergil. He deserves to know, whether he wants to learn about it now or later. "Whenever you want to know more about what was involved, what led to it happening, and how I mean to prevent it, you can. It does not have to be today, but it's yours to know when you want it."
She may delay picking up her research again until that time, so that she can be sure of her success in avoiding that issue again. Though the way the fox spirit works, if she delays too long, the being will find a way to share it with her regardless. They are not entirely on their own.
Vergil fondly rolls his eyes with a sigh at her assertion that he ought to have suggested the picnic take place right there on her porch or by taking a quicker way to their destination. She is not entirely wrong that he should have accounted for her lack of patience, but it would be a bit foolish to expect a picnic to take place on the porch or that Vergil would want any part of this to feel rushed by simply portaling to a destination. But before he can point any of that out to her, Mizu takes him by surprise in offering to explain further what led her to make those decisions that day. Vergil does not immediately answer, giving it some consideration. After all, his intention in coming out here and seeing her was not necessarily to broach every potential challenging discussion they could possibly have, but rather to find some semblance of connection with her again.
"I would like to know," he says. "But perhaps that may be a conversation better accompanied by a meal. Or after it. Regardless, there is no need to rush to some conclusion here and now. Our time together shall not come to such an immediate and abrupt end this day."
Vergil emphasizes his point with another kiss, this one lingering longer than the others that have come before it. Its end is of no great note if only because it is so shortly followed by another and another and another. The hand at her cheek drifts along the length of her neck as he kisses her before one such kiss changes ever so subtly in its intensity. There still lies a gulf between the two of them as it pertains to their intimacy. Words are merely words without action even if Vergil is of a firmer belief that Mizu can follow her words with the appropriate actions. And so, Vergil is well aware there is ultimately only so far that he is willing. But he has missed her, and there is some part of him that cannot help but crave more intimacy than merely chaste gestures of affection. Thus, he nips gently at her lower lip, a tug that ends with him wordlessly bidding her to part her lips for him, to reclaim just a little more of them today.
Her heart thuds loudly in her chest as Vergil considers her offer, her words that want to be more than words. They have been apart so long, and Mizu reflected so much on herself, her actions, and her future—their future. It's the largest gap of sharing between them since the trickle at the bonfire became a torrent in the woods. It may be too much for that day, but Mizu trusts Vergil to choose what is right for him. It matters that he knows it's an option, even should it not be taken for some time. This decision isn't grabbing Taigen and jumping out of Fowler's castle, a split second decision that cannot be taken back, a setting aside of her goal to protect something else in a moment. It's more deliberate, more akin to her reunion with her mother—save this time it's worth it. Unlike then.
He speaks, and Mizu nods. Ready as she was to discuss the matter, she did not expect Vergil to push directly ahead into it. That's... more her style. The most direct path, whatever stands in her way.
She expects Vergil to move toward the meal, whether that be to continue walking hand in hand or to set up the picnic where they stand. In this fog, with so little visibility, it is as private as anywhere in Willow. They're away from the station and the concentrated activity around it. It's them, just the two of them. Vergil kisses Mizu again, and something shifts. He presses for more, and it's like air while drowning, like water while parched. Her hands tighten, some of her fingers digging into his back.
Her lips part, and Mizu opens up to more. She has been alone, wrapped in blankets she could not well pretend were Vergil, and too alone and uncertain to fantasize of him the way he once described for her. That intimacy, that openness between them, was something she couldn't quite seize and act upon while they were apart. Even now, when Mizu would give all of herself to Vergil again, she cannot help but be aware of every action he takes. She reciprocates without demanding more the way she might before. Mizu believes him that they are together again, that they will have this and more in the future. Yet in its own way, it's like when she first met Kai. It has to be built, slowly.
He believes her when she says she's missed him in all this time, and Vergil easily assumes that to also mean she's missed him physically as well. She's relayed as much, anyways, with how little hesitation there's been to hold his hand and how easily she's slipped back into his arms, returning each of his kisses. So, truth be told, he was expecting more from Mizu once he deepened the kiss. Vergil knows her all too well, knows her to be greedy for all forms of touch and affection from him, particularly when they are as alone as they are now. He's never minded her greed for his affection. It has, after all, always felt quite good on some level to be so wanted that it sparks a near insatiable craving for his touch, for him. But it is...a pleasant surprise when she does not seek to take more right now. When she seems just as content as he is to linger in this kiss, the taste of one another as time still bears its meaning (they spent too much time apart for it to be forgotten today), but it is theirs to do with as they please.
Vergil cannot help wonder what has brought upon this change, if it is a trust in his words or the results of her weeks of thinking and reflecting. A warmth blossoms in his chest as the specific reason does not particularly matter. Not when he bears such confidence that regardless of the specifics, the change is for him, for any of this to work, for her want of him, of them. And truth be told, this is not what he anticipated, dared not hope for lest he be left disappointed. To some extent, that bit of surprised relief brings to light for Vergil just how much he had closed himself from her by bracing for the worst in his anger and hurt. There is still a ways to go yet before Vergil could likely say his walls were brought crumbling back down, but this is... This is something. This is something.
Tongues entwined with one another, Vergil draws her into his mouth before the kiss is at its end. His pulse feels loud, but he feels no sense of self-consciousness for it as each beat reflects all that he knows he would be unlikely to find the words to say himself. Mizu cannot be drawn much closer to him—his embrace has brought her close, and she presses against him—and yet, he remains eager for her warmth all the same. They remain as much even as the kiss is brought to its end, sharing breath with one another.
"I love you."
They're words he's said before to her. And even when he said them on that terrible night a month ago, he still meant them just as much then as he does now. But even so, Vergil cannot help that pleased little thrill that races through him, as though it were almost the first time all over again.
Every part of her Vergil seeks, Mizu gives, and she readily takes of him what he will give her. Each small action a spike of joy in and of itself. None of it to be overlooked, none of it a stepping stone to something more. It may well be, but Mizu relishes Vergil's lips against her own, the smell of him, and the heat of his mouth. So many years she did not understand people's distractions of the flesh, how they chased a piece of pleasure over something more substantial. She still only understands it when it comes to someone she loves. No one else's kiss would feel the same or inspire her both to long for more and to hold that longing in check—to be in the moment, not the next one.
Her face remains tilted up to meet his, and Mizu blinks at those words, only a slight wetness dampening her lashes. Those words have been a wonder, a balm, a banked fire in which to place her trust. They seemed to hurt him, last he spoke, because she'd hurt him, and still he loved her. Still, he loves her. They're softer this time in her ears. He won't leave. She has him. She has time. Even should she sleep alone in her bed tonight, she will not be as lonely. With or without his scent, with or without a shirt to replace the one long gone stale, Mizu can wrap herself in those words and assure herself.
Books sit in her cabin, stacked against the wall, spines pointed away, lest they be seen. A journal sits atop them, confused and rambling notes within. Dregs of tea pile atop the compost. More of a scholar's waste than a smith's, though they're mixed with that for a horse. Not a single book about England, unless one counts its poets and poetry, remain in the cabin. All signs Vergil did not get to see. They shape the words. Mizu leans her forehead against Vergil's, her grip as tight as before. "I. Love. You."
Lunch can wait. Anything can wait while they're near each other.
Vergil kisses her softly and sweetly, more chastely than the kiss that preceded. He feels no particular guilt in privately acknowledging to himself that such words rang more hollow after what she did. That safety and certainty he once felt in those words had been rattled, nearly broken by her choices. But hearing them now, he does not find himself wrestling with doubt quite as much. No question arises as to whether or not she loves him enough as had arisen that night even without the full understanding of why she did it. With her word that she has chosen them, chosen him, knowing the potential sacrifices this may ask of her along the way, Mizu's declaration of love stands more as a promise. It is something she refuses to cast aside, to allow to slip from her mind, or delude herself into believing she is choosing the lesser of harms.
"That is all I ever wanted," he says, quietly, their foreheads still gently pressed together. To be loved and to be protected. All he ever wanted and yet scarcely dared to ask of her, of anyone. He still finds himself approaching the prospect with trepidation, but it is beyond his understanding whether that is because of her previous harm or simply his own inherent mistrust in placing anything into the hands of others. Mizu offered these things to him before. And he had chosen to believe her then. The memory of that, the offer and his acceptance, bring tears to his eyes that he refuses to allow to fall. It is a pinprick now, after everything. The warmth of the memory stolen by bloodstains on the floor. In wanting again so much to be loved and protected, it feels he stands upon a precipice, peering down into a seemingly endless void and racked with uncertainty of what lay at the bottom.
And for that, he ultimately remains frozen. Today, Mizu has said and done nothing wrong. If anything, she has managed to say and do so very much right. But what she did is not able to be so readily and quickly erased even by so much right. It is impossible to release the totality of his insecurities regardless of what she's done in this span of time together again. He can tell himself again and again that he believes her—and know that he truly does believe her words, her love—but it is a leap of faith he is no longer prepared to take. A feeling that is at once terrible and awful, and all too familiar for him. But he wants to take it. He wants to trust her, and he must find satisfaction in that today for she must as well. It has to be enough to want, to let that serve as where they begin again. Otherwise, Vergil fears, they may very well be doomed to repeat these mistakes again. Or who knows? Perhaps it would be Vergil's sharp edges that would cut next time.
All he ever wanted. It should be a balm, a relief, a part of them coming back together, where those words carry the weight of her reflection and decision. Vergil may well mean it that way, but Mizu feels her mistakes in those words. Parts of her still feel broken, and were Vergil not worth it, were she not forced to take this time to understand herself, she might never have reforged herself. Mizu was too brittle, too prone to breaking. Bound to shatter. It should not have taken Vergil, it shouldn't have taken her hurting Vergil, to recognize as much. Now that it has, she can only move forward. Vergil, true to his word, gives her the chance to do so.
Mizu was unlovable, but Vergil loves her. She can love and be loved, and she knows that (knew that). It's always been a marvel and Vergil the safest person to which she can turn. It started before there was anything to them but the respect between two opponents. When he carried her and made sure she was well enough not to die. More, truly, because he fed her and spoke with her. Mizu slept without concern around him. She slept through no choice of her own, pushing herself so far, but she woke up safe and sound. That was the start of trust. The groundwork.
He is not her mother. He is not Mikio. He is not Ringo or Taigen or Akemi. They chose each other together. They're choosing each other again now. Mizu takes deep breaths, and she remains grounded and even. For all her thoughts, she has the whole time standing here. Mizu looks up at Vergil, his face coming into clearer focus. Him, she chooses him, damn all she thought she knew when she came here. There's room for a sliver more than revenge. There's more to her than revenge.
"I love you," Mizu says quietly, more like a prayer in a shrine than a shout in a fight. Her hand slides around to trace the angles of his face. She knows better what that means. He'll see. He cannot yet, not fully, but he will.
Vergil almost cannot hold her gaze with how much raw emotion floods his own. But he finds the resolve within himself to hold steady in sharing the gaze with her, not shying from her feelings or his own. She traces parts of his face in the first true silence they've shared with one another in a month. It does not rest nearly so heavily over them, and with that comes a feeling of relief for Vergil as each small touchstone of familiarity has done so thus far today. He turns his head enough to lean slightly into her touch. Her hands are rough and calloused in ways that Vergil's are not. It's evidence of her years of work both with blade and forge, and it is so very human. Strength and fragility all in one simple touch.
His hand at her back leaves for her hand at his cheek, holding it loosely as he turns his head a little further and places a kiss to her palm. They stay in such still quiet for a few moments longer—enough for heartbeats to settle—before Vergil breaks it. Vergil's other hand leaves Mizu's face and there is a movement for the nearly forgotten basket.
"Come," he says with a light tug to her hand, "a little further."
They are far enough from the station to avoid the majority of those in the region, but Vergil wishes to be a little further from the beaten path. Just in case someone is attempting to take a well-traveled path through Willow and deviates, he feels they ought to go further themselves to avoid the disturbance. And true enough, they do not walk for very long before he is satisfied. Only a couple minutes spent walking is ultimately before settling upon a blanket spread out over the grass. Vergil settles close beside Mizu, although he still does not yet go looking to touch her once more. Instead, he sets to emptying the basket's contents finally, spreading them out over the rest of the blanket where they do not sit while still generally remaining within arm's reach.
Food is generally food to Mizu based upon Vergil's observations. She is far from a picky eater and would be content to eat most anything regardless of its flavor. But still, he took care in choosing the ingredients and condiments Vergil felt Mizu might prefer for temaki. While that could very well be filling enough on its own, Vergil knows Mizu better than that. He also has a container of a light seaweed salad with its accompanying dressing separate, and another container in which a ham and cheese sandwich, an egg salad sandwich, and a tuna salad sandwich have been divided to form miniature sandwiches. He would have stopped there, but Kyrie caught him in the act. Thus, there is also a container filled with a large amount of chocolate-covered fruits, some plain and some with chopped nuts sprinkled over them as a compromise.
The last to be removed is a decent-sized jug of water (he would have brought tea if he'd had any guarantee it would still be warm by the time they settled down), dishes, and utensils. What utensils are needed for serving are placed with their respective items.
"I hope everything is to your liking," he says, pressing a kiss to her temple as he passes her the dishes and utensils she needs to eat. "It was impossible to prepare this without anyone else in the house knowing, and Kyrie was...insistent about the dessert."
Needed was the word she used.
"She said we need to have some kind of chocolate after so much time apart."
Vergil doesn't understand it, but Kyrie wanted to help in some way. Vergil could not find it within himself to say no even if there were certainly reasons within his reach that would not potentially bruise her feelings, such as Nero requiring more of her attention right now. It was a harmless thing that seemed to mean a great deal to Kyrie in the end, making it well worth it despite Vergil's lack of understanding. He also did not mind the company—her company in particular, no less—in the kitchen. It served as a decent distraction, preventing him from dwelling too long and too much in thought over this reunion in a way that could endanger his resolve. And it seemed to put Kyrie in a good mood, too.
Their connection, gentle touch and tenuous words, hangs in the air, fragile but strong. Mizu says nothing more, sure in that moment that more words would not help. He wanted to hear it again, and Mizu said it with as much as she felt. It's what they have, then, and it's enough. Her heart aches, and Mizu knows she needs many more moments with Vergil to truly feel settled.
She only remembers lunch—the picnic—when Vergil picks up the basket and guides them on. It's the reason they're in Willow, and with her attention broken, Mizu remembers her hunger. Her day began with a small meal, but it's been some time. It may well have been longer, if Vergil hadn't come, if only because it's easy to lose herself in her work and not worry about physical needs until she steps away. It's true at the forge and with swordsmanship and, it seems, with study. Yet it's all part of her work. Eating food regularly, sleeping, everything. It all works toward what she wants.
The fog makes everything out of arm's reach farther away. Even sound travels a shorter distance, muffled and weak. It's difficult to judge exactly how much distance they need for real privacy, but they take it where they will. Mizu stays out of Vergil's way as he sets up: a mix of their cuisine, the rolls and salad familiar like home, while the sandwiches feel very much of Vergil. Home in a different sense, a reminder of the meals he's made before. Though honestly he's made many of them of her cuisine with her in mind.
Mizu serves herself without hesitation, large portions and pieces of most everything. The fruit covered in chocolate sits untouched for the moment. It does not match the rest of the food. She takes a bite of temaki before Vergil's words register. Mizu goes pink at the thought of Vergil's family. Naturally, they'd notice something was wrong when Mizu and Vergil kept their distance. Mizu supposes Nero doesn't know the specifics, as he has not called on her to kick her ass (a prospect that never impacted how she felt or what she did toward Vergil, but in light of how strongly she hurt Vergil, there's less excitement about a duel with Nero where he truly tries harder). She remains unused to families, to those people paying attention to each other's affairs with interest. Her time with Mikio and her mother a poor shadow of that experience.
"I read chocolate is an aphrodisiac, but we hardly need that," Mizu says. It's easier to consider the chocolate and dessert than to think about what Vergil's family made of their separation. Kyrie seems as nice as ever, so nice it puts Mizu ever so slightly on edge. There's always more to people than that. Kyrie may not have demonic powers, but Mizu finds someone who holds her own among those that do worth respect and concern.
She continues to eat the food. Mizu does not mean to rush, but once she eats a little, her stomach growls and wants more. It feels like a feast, given it's food Mizu does not need to measure and stretch the time she needs. There's more than enough. Vergil always makes enough to fill her and more, another meal or two atop that. She's missed his cooking, and that more than anything allows Mizu to slow down and really enjoy the taste. "It's good," Mizu says, "Your food is always good."
All that's missing is tea. While Mizu carefully manages her Lore, she pulls out her spoon to turn the jug of water into hot tea. It's not the best way to make tea, but it rounds the meal out. "Though you have to know I'd have been happy if all you'd brought was rice."
Vergil allows for Mizu to have at filling up her plate first. He's glad he opted for larger dishes. Not that a smaller dish would have necessarily stopped Mizu from eating as much as she pleases, but it would have perhaps been annoying to either figure out how to successfully pile everything on or figure out the least aggravating way to divvy up her meal into portions. She begins eating by the time Vergil starts to fill his own plate. Although his portions tend to be more modest than hers, Vergil isn't shy about returning for seconds if he happens to want more. Usually, he does not. He eats what he needs.
He makes a slight face, shaking his head a little as Mizu suggests chocolate to be an aphrodisiac. Vergil didn't really understand Kyrie's insistence, but he doubts very much that was the angle Kyrie intended. It is so unlikely that he suspects Kyrie would likely be mortified to know that was the potential interpretation of the gesture.
"I know," he says with a slight smile, knowing full well she's not simply saying so to be polite. Vergil could probably bring completely unseasoned, half-cooked rice to her and Mizu would still eat it with a certain degree of contentment. "But you deserve more than just rice."
If Vergil was willing to make her a hearty soup in the immediate aftermath of what she did, he was certainly going to provide her with more than rice when making a gesture that he was ready to begin forgiving her.
Sweets are a luxury Mizu's rarely had. Before Folkmore, it was not much a part of her life. The treat she ate most in her life the peaches from the tree within riding distance of her home with Mikio. They rarely bothered to do more than cut pieces off and eat them. In Folkmore, she could eat sweets regularly, but her habits are much the same as home. The increased variety in her diet comes from Vergil, whose meals are flavorful and filling, sometimes with foreign touches that come from his region of the world. Dessert... stands out for its rarity. Whatever Kyrie's reasons, it's a symbol of them coming back together—being together. Even if chocolate poisons her mouth with sweetness, Mizu will enjoy every bite of it. How could she not?
Mizu sips some tea to wash the flavors of one portion of her meal away so she can better enjoy one of Vergil's sandwiches. They're still an odd food to her, the balance of cheese and meat on the bread something she wouldn't consider on her own. The bread keeps the rich filling from overpowering her enjoyment. The Japanese food is more to her liking, but the sandwich feels of Vergil and his presence back in her life. It's even more satisfying to eat.
Mizu's gaze snaps to Vergil at the comment. She deserves more than rice. He would not say that weeks ago. The soup wasn't because she deserved it. She needed it, and Vergil provided everything she needed until she could heal herself. The meal not simply being a sign he loves her but that he thinks she deserves something makes her heart flutter. Mizu had no faith in herself when she started her work on what she wanted, but Vergil it feels did. Someone believed in her.
"It's the most delicious meal I've had in weeks," Mizu says plainly. "Thank you."
She pours some tea for Vergil, then herself. She passes it his way. It's his favorite kind, which she still has at her home. A much smaller gesture. "Don't worry. I have eaten two square meals a day the last weeks."
He nods slightly at her expressed gratitude, unaware of how or why his words affected her so. When Mizu passes over the cup of tea to him, he takes it from her. It's as she's offering her reassurances that she has eaten that he takes a sip of it. Vergil's surprise does not make its way into his expression, but there's more than just the pleasant warmth of hot tea for him in recognizing she chose his favorite.
"I was not worried," he says. There's a brief pause before he amends his sentence. "At least not once I saw you."
It was not exactly something that he concerned himself with too deeply, but even with as angry and hurt as he was, Vergil could not help but wonder if Mizu was managing alright on her own. He had no less than three people who made it their business to look after him. And they all certainly seemed to in their own ways as they took note of him remaining at home more often and general moodiness. But to Vergil's knowledge, Mizu had no one like that at present. Those she might have considered allowing have long since left. Thus, it was hard not to wonder at least a little if she was eating well or perhaps even at all. But she is not gaunt and visibly underfed, or lethargic, or anything else that would tell that she has not been eating enough.
But it was never a deep concern, and he clarifies as much.
"I am not conceited enough to believe you to ultimately be so reliant upon me though. You're more than capable of taking care of yourself."
Once Mizu left swordfather to begin her quest for revenge, she's looked after herself. No one else has made sure she eats, sleeps, rests... with the exception of a short time with Ringo. Vergil's cooking and other measures never felt like concern she couldn't manage on her own. Even the food he made after sparring before she gained the ability to heal herself and during the periods she'd rest to gain the strength to heal herself weren't about any inability to manage on her part. It's as much about him as about her, like after thrashing her thoroughly he must see she's some level of fine before parting ways. Not that they always part ways even that level of immediately after sparring since they got together. The more time passes, the more those early sparring sessions, that time before the great storm in Folkmore, feel like the past, well and truly behind them.
So Mizu doesn't need the clarification from Vergil. She appreciates that the recognition of her competence, a smaller measure now than he will need when she leaves. The thought pains her to have during this reunion where she's focused on Vergil, on them. Yet it's true. It's a thought he'll need to comfort himself, for what small comforts may be found. Mizu doesn't dwell on the thought or on her revenge. Today, this lunch, is not about that.
"I haven't interacted with many people or to any great extent," Mizu admits. "The librarian at Kuma Lisa Academy, the farmer who first hosted Kai, vendors at the farmers' market..." She shrugs. It's been enough to meet her needs. That's all she can ask for. It's so much effort to meet new people, and socializing is not an enjoyable activity for her most the time.
"No one could help me reflect, and that had my focus."
Her words spark a bit of curiosity from Vergil. Granted it seems a bit of a foolish thought when he examines it at all because, of course, her dedication to her revenge remains supreme across any circumstance. It's guided her actions time after time, and even when it has meant parting ways with those she's allowed to be at her side and even come to care for. But he cannot help wondering all the same what exactly she means when she surprises him by saying reflecting had her focus. While it's true that he more or less made reflection a stipulation of anything proceeding between them moving forward, making it her focus in their time apart was another matter and not an expectation he set. Besides, he knows better the moment she mentioned the librarian. What other need does she have of the books in Kuma Lisa Academy than their books on England and London specifically? Still... It would be a lie to say that there wasn't something pleasant at the thought that perhaps for just a moment, Vergil did come first and she set aside her revenge in a way Vergil would never ask her to do.
Rather than asking though, giving voice to that curiosity that seems at once so dangerous and innocuous at the same time, he says, "I spoke little of it to anyone else. I did not see how speaking of it to others would help any when the matter lay between us. Although Nero was more insistent than usual in trying to ascertain more details from me out of a desire to protect me."
How sore and tired Nero was that day Vergil confirmed the boy's suspicions also likely played a role, too. The distraction of Vergil's love life probably would have been welcomed had Vergil been willing to discuss it. Alas for poor Nero, the topic was not up for discussion between them. The most Vergil was willing to say was acknowledge the trouble in paradise and that he had intentions of handling it when he was ready.
"Fortunately for you, he is genetically predisposed to a certain foolhardy stubbornness when it comes to his training, and earned himself bed rest for his troubles. Otherwise, I believe it would have been him knocking on your door before me," Vergil says with a touch of wry amusement. "Unfortunately for you, I believe he has learned his lesson."
Hopefully. Maybe. That genetic foolhardy stubbornness remains a powerful thing. But either way, there is definitely a non-zero possibility that Nero will turn up should something happen again in the future.
It would surprise Mizu if Vergil spoke about it with anyone, rather than the reality he kept it private. It's something she appreciates he does, though she remembers her mother's meddling. Families are like that, where they can be. It's a blessing of the fact they do not live together that Vergil's family cannot pick up more on their own. In Mizu's experience, other people meddling hurts more than it helps.
Mizu raises an eyebrow at the comment about Nero earning bed rest. She's done the same repeatedly, and as much as Vergil may call it foolhardy, Mizu respects it. There's growth that comes from pushing yourself that hard. Vergil may make either of them pay for it hard enough they need a day or more in bed, but Vergil also will not do more than that. He will not seriously hurt either of them. Nero must know that as well as her. So he's a perfectly safe way to push their limits until they grow more than they would otherwise.
"If he's half as stubborn as me, I wouldn't hold my breath," Mizu says. Especially if something happened again. That thought churns her stomach. Mizu's not sure there'd be coming back from a second mistake and rightfully so. Only a fool would expect someone to continue to return from their trust getting broken repeatedly.
She sighs before taking another bite of the delicious food. There's no view worth paying attention to. Beyond her usual awareness of her surroundings, Mizu's focus lays on Vergil and the picnic he's bestowed as a gift, a bridge between them. "I didn't expect to change when I came here. I would come, I would study, and I would leave. Perhaps that was hubris. Fox spirits are famous not only for playing tricks but for those tricks changing people's lives. She's needed to do little beyond her decision to bring us here at the same time. Knowing you has done the rest."
Rin and with her Makie to a lesser degree. People. People more than tricks have changed Mizu's life in Folkmore. Changed her. She should have known better. Mizu recognized Ringo as a typhoon. Vergil wasn't as forceful at pushing himself into her life, but he's stayed a part of it much longer. Mizu may return to her time to complete her revenge, but she cannot return the same person.
Vergil huffs a small, quiet laugh when Mizu speaks of Nero's stubbornness being a barrier to having learned his lesson. There is, of course, the distinct possibility that is true. But if Nero did not learn from the direct physical consequences, Kyrie will hopefully have gotten through to him by now. At the very lest, he hopes the boy thinks twice before pushing himself that far past his limits. He lets it be though, having another sip of his tea before continuing to pick at his lunch as Mizu continues, reflecting upon her time in Folkmore thus far. It's only once Mizu says that knowing him has done the rest that Vergil lifts his gaze back to her, the comment catching him off-guard. Which is perhaps foolish in of itself. It is not as though Vergil could not say the same is true in return. Even if there's been a degree of anxiety and fear with such vulnerability, in parting with his insecurities and old wounds, never mind speaking of his hopes and desires, Mizu has been the constant in allowing him to do so. Vergil lacks something like the ocean to compare her to, but he knows in his heart just how much she has anchored him in the time they've known one another.
He's quiet a moment, thoughtful in his silence. Vergil had no intention of changing either. This was meant to be a temporary reprieve from the Underworld. A means to an end. But he met her, and even with as much uncertainty as there had been in their companionship, things began to fall into place so easily.
"I only hope you feel it is for the better," he says, lifting his gaze back to hers again. Vergil knows for his part, he certain feels he's grown to be a better person because of her, because of them. But what it takes for Vergil to have grown to be a better person looks different than what he assumes she would accept as better for herself. His sharp edges need to be dulled. He needs to be a gentler, kinder person than he has been. He needs to be less on his guard, more forgiving, and allow people in. He needs to be less afraid of being loved and loving someone else. Vergil cannot be much of a brother to Dante, dad to Nero, or lover to Mizu otherwise. Vergil does not know if such things serve Mizu well, or if it puts her at risk of not surviving the hard path that lies before her in her world.
For the better, Vergil says, and it's an implied question without an easy answer. What is... better? Mizu refuses to prescribe to the morality that would see her dead. She tried and failed life as a wife, what all women are supposed to become—lest they become the whores their husbands seek. The same society that turns to whores judges them for that work, but Mizu doesn't. Like her, they're on the outside, no matter how well they play their part. There's no place in society for her. Until her revenge is complete, there is no safety for her. So what would make her better?
Mizu stares through Vergil, unfocused, as she tries to answer the question. Everything sifts through her fingers like water until she lands on some of the last words swordfather gave her: I did not train you to be a demon or a human. I showed you how to be an artist. To be an artist is to do one thing only. That is what she thought she would do when she came here, and she thought she knew what that was. Vergil— As selfishly as Mizu does not want Vergil to serve that purpose (though that would make her a bad artist), she cannot deny the ways he's helped her on her path to revenge. The obvious, the most obvious, is the way that sparring together has improved her skills immensely. It's the first time she's gotten to fight someone as good as or better than her where the consequence of losing is not death. Incredible the ways that allows her to grow. It's far better than the practice in a dojo, where those involved do not live or die by their blade the way Mizu and Vergil have. Yet that's not what she meant when she said she's changed. That alone wouldn't be a change.
It started small. Vergil taught her not to be as reckless. She puts everything on the line, still, but it costs more to take her life, to defeat her, than the desperate lengths she reached early in their sparring. It grew from there, from the respect they have for each other, and more. It's— it isn't anything to do with fighting in the end. It's what they've made together. It's Vergil's acceptance of her, all of her. No one else has seen her so fully, no one's seen so much of her and accepted her. It speaks to the possibility of life after revenge, to more than the spark within her—to Mizu burning herself to see her fathers dead. She shall have no rest at home until she sees her revenge through. Yet once she does, she might find a single person in all of Japan able to accept her. Even one would change her life, would let her have a life. As little as Mizu can imagine finding that with someone else, she hungers for it. It's why the trial on the train tempted her, not only the answer for her revenge but the chance for a life with Vergil as well, a life with that afterward.
And Mizu? She more than hungers for it. She's learned to let someone in. She's exposed herself to Vergil without the betrayal and horror that followed with Mikio. After that failure, the betrayal of both her mother and Mikio, Mizu closed herself off from everyone. Ringo never got as close because Mizu didn't let him. Taigen stood no chance. And Akemi? Laughable. Every conversation with Madam Kaji was a transaction, nothing more. The very fact Mizu can name everyone who might have stood a chance to be let in speaks to what her life was like. What she was like.
Her tongue runs over her teeth, white and square. Human. "I now have a reason to survive my revenge."
Mizu has spoken before of what she would like after her revenge, usually after Vergil has gently pried it out of her in the aftermath of shared intimacy in an echo of the pattern established all that time ago in the library, brought before the flames of the bonfire, and beyond.
Her answer has changed over time. She balked the first time Vergil asked, and understandably so. His desires have never changed, but he did not allow for them when he was younger and more foolish than he is now. It was too great a thing to give voice to such desires, to acknowledge what he assumed to be weakness. Thus, he cannot fault Mizu's initial reluctance to acknowledge or name anything, to keep her focus on her mission rather than the aftermath to avoid weakness or distractions.
And then she acknowledged what she would want, if it were possible. She would like to find something like this again in the future, to find someone who loves and accepts her without reservations. But to her, it has always been an impossible, an exception rather than the possibility of hope. What exists between them, it always seemed, she credited to the realm's existence, the simple fortune of having been brought here at the same time. Vergil never argued too much over the point in so much, he's never made an effort to convince her otherwise. But he's never made secret he doesn't believe it to be as impossible of a thing as she believes either. Just as he does not believe she is some cold, unfeeling monster. He has seen too much of her heart, too much of her humanity to believe otherwise on either front.
But this is the first time Mizu has said it without qualification, without an expression of her usual skepticism on the possibility of it. That there is more to her, to her life than her revenge. That her revenge truly serves the purpose of freeing her to live rather than providing her with the drive to do so. Honestly, it catches Vergil a bit off-guard to hear her say it. Mizu has been far too consistent and reliable in the way she speaks of her revenge for it to not surprise him to her hear speak of it otherwise. For a moment, Vergil finds himself too dumbfounded to form words as his response. At least nothing more than the quiet oh to fill the silence until he briefly averts his gaze as he feels his face warm slightly over how pleasing it is to hear her say that. From the moment they first met, Vergil has wanted to tame that fire within her. Not to make her in some docile thing, of course, but to temper it into something that can be useful to her, not self-destructive. What little glimpses of such tempering he's had since their first spar were rewarding, but there's little denying that what she did a month ago shattered whatever hope or thought that perhaps she was beginning to make the right changes. And now...? He thinks he is beginning to understand more the conclusions she reached in their time apart.
Vergil lightly clears his throat as though that would clear away his momentary silence as well, glancing at her.
"You've grown stronger then." Better. "Good."
It is a short word of praise, being all that he can manage for the moment, but what Vergil does not say with words is said with his gaze. It is still with love and respect that he looks at Mizu, but there is something more, too. Something renewed with such an ultimately simple declaration on her part. He glances away again, a shy smile on his lips.
With all they've spoken of them, with how much she's yearned for what she has with him even while having it, with the very decision Vergil placed before her, Mizu doesn't expect her answer to surprise him. She chooses him—them. She placed her revenge on hold to consider what she wanted and to work toward it. Even now, she doubts she will return to her studies of her fathers in London immediately. They will not discuss all they need to discuss. Mizu does not trust herself yet to continue those studies and not hurt Vergil again. She must be sure of one to have the other. Mizu will seek her revenge better and achieve it in part because of what she's found with Vergil, and Mizu will find something again someday and have this again because she's had her revenge. One and the other, they feed into each other. Neither too brittle, nor too soft.
Mizu would prefer to make her life with Vergil after her revenge than with someone else. However, some things remain impossible. She will have to remember not to compare them to Vergil or they'll forever suffer for it.
Vital to all of it, to any future beyond revenge, is doing right with Vergil right now. Mizu hardly expects to find someone better at forming a relationship and with such wildly unusual views. It will never be as easy as with him. In many ways, it felt like little work. She merely showed a little more of herself time and again for Vergil to accept it and her each and every time. He cooks and cleans. His parents' relationship sounds utterly foreign, yet it frees Mizu from any different expectation as a woman than she'd have as a man. It's... well, Mizu expects anyone else, even if they can love and accept her, to be a lot more work. So if she cannot make it work with Vergil, she will not ever make it work after her revenge.
Her face burns with color at the look Vergil gives her, a look she's missed and longed for and not been sure she'd ever see return. "It's been true," Mizu insists, the heat refusing to leave, "I had to recognize and acknowledge it."
Her actions, despite her mistake, speak to it. Slow steady actions over time, ones she might have wrestled with as not serving her purpose before. Whether selfishness would have won or Mizu made some other mistake, she's not certain. The risk of losing Vergil, the very real possibility, forced her to look at everything differently. Perhaps she understands Master Eiji's words a little better now. Perhaps she's taken them wholly differently than he meant. Mizu's found her meaning.
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"I...I do not know," he answers honestly. "I do no trust easily. I never have. I do not know what it is to place trust in another, to have that trust broken, and what is to come next beyond a parting of ways if not retribution."
Slowly, he releases one of her hands to place his over her heart. He feels the steady pulse of it beneath his palm. He looks at it, almost as if fascinated by it.
"But I love you. Against all reason, I love you so completely that I could never allow us to part for that reason, nor could I ever reach such a degree of ire for you to seek anything close to resembling retaliation." Vergil lifts his gaze once more to her eyes after another moment. "You once promised me everything. And I thought I had come to possess it all upon that promise, but..."
He trails off, glancing down at his hand over her heart. With a thick swallow, he raises his gaze again.
"I need that promise to be true this time." His hand slips from her heart to wrap around her middle, releasing her other hand to draw her further into the partial embrace. "There is to be nothing we cannot speak of, cannot share in. For as long as we are both here, we need to be together in all matters. I do not need you to protect me from yourself, Mizu."
Vergil rests his forehead against hers, closing his eyes.
"I need you to trust me. If you truly intend to choose us, if this is what you desire, I need you to trust me. For as long as we remain here in this place, I need you to trust us."
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Her hand stays by her side, cool without Vergil's gentle furnace against it. She reaches partway toward him but waits. Much as she blinks away tears at hearing he still loves her, everything feels uncertain—her future on the edge of a blade. It feels like swordfather testing the balance, a moment of truth. It wavers in the implication she broke that promise, that she promised Vergil everything and denied it to him. Yet it's simply looking at what she did, what she's already said, another way. It stings, and it may never stop hurting entirely. Mizu's grown used to hurts, plenty of them ones she's done to herself. That doesn't make it hurt less, to be used to them.
Tentatively, she rests her hands on Vergil's shoulders. Mizu takes deep breaths and her time. It's not a conversation for knee jerk reactions or her first thoughts. When she's hurt him so terribly, it feels strange to hear she need not protect him from herself. She's done so much hurt. It's nearly torn them apart. It still could. No, Mizu stops herself. Little as she can believe it, he's asking her to trust him, to trust them, to trust they still are. It's less a matter of faith than choice. Mizu can walk the steps forward, and they will be her steps. In choosing to trust them, she can learn to trust them.
"I love you," Mizu says, and she commits to her decision and her words. She wraps her arms around Vergil's neck. His hair brushes against one hand, and she lets herself slide her fingers into it. "I don't know whether it will help or hurt my revenge. If I can find a way to be a good artist, it will help, but I want it either way. Good artist or bad. I've lost everything I wanted in life to my fathers, and they cannot have you too."
There's no being selfless and letting Vergil go. That was idiocy on her part. They care too much for each other, Vergil loves her too much, not to be hurt in time. They've talked about it before, her leaving. It always felt far off and distant, but it's felt all the more real and close of late. Not so close as to happen this week or this month, especially given how little time she's put into it lately. Yet for whatever reason, the fox spirit chooses to share more of the information she needs. It's a matter of time.
"I'm ugly and callous and sharp," Mizu says baldly. She doesn't mean ugly physically, but she's committed terrible deeds in her search for vengeance, some of which Vergil already knows. "And yours. Ours. I have chosen us, I have chosen you, and I will not shy away from that choice and what it requires. The one thing I could not give up for it, my revenge, I know you won't ask for."
Another ugly truth. That remains. She will leave someday for it, not the departure of all those ripped away by the fox spirit time and again but an active choice. An ugly choice but one she trusts Vergil with. He's always known and always accepted it. It's no sudden or unexpected statement here. One they've talked about, and Mizu's sure he understands. "You would never ask for my life."
He only ever asked her to delay her revenge when he thought it might cost her her life. Small as Mizu feels, she also feels safe. Vergil's arms have always been safe since the first time she found herself within them. Mizu didn't understand then the extent to which they were safe, but she does now. She's missed that feeling in his absence and with it a sense of groundedness. The cold grounds her, but it's not the same.
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"All I ask is that you stay," he says. "Until it's time for you to leave this place, stay with me. Please, Mizu."
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Something sticks in her thoughts, but it's not the best time to figure out why. Mizu makes note of it and focuses on Vergil. She can smell him, and she's missed that smell. Everything of his has long since lost its familiarity with him, taking on the scents of her life. For whatever reason, he believes her. He's staying.
Mizu nods, ever so slightly. Her life in Folkmore could be like her life back home. It'd be so easy for that to happen. Mizu could make it work. It's what she expected when she arrived, but she's had more. With that taste, she doesn't want to give it up. "All I've done these last weeks is figure out what I want and how to do it. I'm here."
"You'll see."
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"I suppose I should have considered more the likelihood that you would not last long enough for us to have eaten first," he says with fond amusement. Whatever he had envisioned for today, Vergil should have known better. The conversation hung above them as a Sword of Damocles, and what little bits of connection they might find until it came to be was always going to have to be good enough. Mizu's impulsiveness and impatience was always going to take the lead once he took the first step. His careful attempt at controlling the matter, to minimize the likelihood of further hurt was doomed from the start. He cannot say he minds it. How can he? His reckless fool... His. As promised.
"I've missed you," he whispers, quiet for no reason other than such words are for her to hear alone. Not even the surrounding foliage ought to be privy to them. And that has been the truth since the day they parted. Even with all of his anger, and all of his hurt, Vergil missed Mizu beneath it all. His bed was colder without her beside him. He could sleep with the assurances that Nero and Kyrie were safe, and V was minding himself, but he could not shake the image of Mizu on the floor from his mind so easily. How often he wanted to cast it aside and go to her just to know she was safe, that nothing had happened in his absence. But that was the source of his hurt and his anger, too, and so, he could not bring himself to come near to her sooner than now. No matter how much he missed her. Her scent, the sound of her voice. The bright blue of her eyes that told more than she likely ever intended. He missed the press of her body against his, curled up close and tight in silent slumber. He's missed her fingers in his hair. Her loud cries of ecstasy, and her quiet confessions of love and affection. The furrow in her brow when she cannot understand something readily and every crinkle of her skin that appears when she begins to laugh. He's missed her. He's loved her. No matter how angry or hurt by what she did, he's loved her.
Vergil does not give her time to respond in kind before he's stolen another kiss.
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Her mouth opens slightly at his point they haven't eaten yet. Mizu intended to wait and to have that time together, when it might be their last, when it was what Vergil came for. Yet the longer they walked and talked and were together, the more impossible that felt. Everything tiptoed around the conversation they had not had. Mizu enjoyed learning more about Vergil's childhood, but she could only enjoy it so much. A hand held was closeness and a distance all the same. She—
Perhaps she should have known, even more than Vergil, that the conversation would come first. Mizu shrugs, unapologetic given Vergil's arms around her, the kiss, the closeness that's been missing for weeks. All the careful consideration she's given when she only wanted to go to his home, to hug him, to hold him close. The fear of rejection, the fear of coming over too soon, even once she knew her answer, kept her away. Vergil said he'd stayed, he'd stay, he'd hear her answer. She had to trust he'd come. So when he did, she was ready, as ready as she'd ever be. Mizu could have answered him on her porch. It's more incredible she did not.
Mizu smiles into the kiss, another kiss, not a last kiss. One of many to come. She pulls him close and leans up into him. She takes another short kiss when that one ends, aware of both the soft comfort in his closeness and the deeper hunger that wants all of him. "I missed you too much to wait," Mizu says, "If you wanted to eat first, we should have eaten on the porch, or you could have taken us here directly.
"Foolish to think I could have this much time with you without wanting all the more in the future. Without going for it. Now I need not eat wondering if it's the last time we'll share a meal, and the food will taste all the sweeter."
More seriously, Mizu considers that she knows and understands better what happened that Vergil. He deserves to know, whether he wants to learn about it now or later. "Whenever you want to know more about what was involved, what led to it happening, and how I mean to prevent it, you can. It does not have to be today, but it's yours to know when you want it."
She may delay picking up her research again until that time, so that she can be sure of her success in avoiding that issue again. Though the way the fox spirit works, if she delays too long, the being will find a way to share it with her regardless. They are not entirely on their own.
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"I would like to know," he says. "But perhaps that may be a conversation better accompanied by a meal. Or after it. Regardless, there is no need to rush to some conclusion here and now. Our time together shall not come to such an immediate and abrupt end this day."
Vergil emphasizes his point with another kiss, this one lingering longer than the others that have come before it. Its end is of no great note if only because it is so shortly followed by another and another and another. The hand at her cheek drifts along the length of her neck as he kisses her before one such kiss changes ever so subtly in its intensity. There still lies a gulf between the two of them as it pertains to their intimacy. Words are merely words without action even if Vergil is of a firmer belief that Mizu can follow her words with the appropriate actions. And so, Vergil is well aware there is ultimately only so far that he is willing. But he has missed her, and there is some part of him that cannot help but crave more intimacy than merely chaste gestures of affection. Thus, he nips gently at her lower lip, a tug that ends with him wordlessly bidding her to part her lips for him, to reclaim just a little more of them today.
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He speaks, and Mizu nods. Ready as she was to discuss the matter, she did not expect Vergil to push directly ahead into it. That's... more her style. The most direct path, whatever stands in her way.
She expects Vergil to move toward the meal, whether that be to continue walking hand in hand or to set up the picnic where they stand. In this fog, with so little visibility, it is as private as anywhere in Willow. They're away from the station and the concentrated activity around it. It's them, just the two of them. Vergil kisses Mizu again, and something shifts. He presses for more, and it's like air while drowning, like water while parched. Her hands tighten, some of her fingers digging into his back.
Her lips part, and Mizu opens up to more. She has been alone, wrapped in blankets she could not well pretend were Vergil, and too alone and uncertain to fantasize of him the way he once described for her. That intimacy, that openness between them, was something she couldn't quite seize and act upon while they were apart. Even now, when Mizu would give all of herself to Vergil again, she cannot help but be aware of every action he takes. She reciprocates without demanding more the way she might before. Mizu believes him that they are together again, that they will have this and more in the future. Yet in its own way, it's like when she first met Kai. It has to be built, slowly.
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Vergil cannot help wonder what has brought upon this change, if it is a trust in his words or the results of her weeks of thinking and reflecting. A warmth blossoms in his chest as the specific reason does not particularly matter. Not when he bears such confidence that regardless of the specifics, the change is for him, for any of this to work, for her want of him, of them. And truth be told, this is not what he anticipated, dared not hope for lest he be left disappointed. To some extent, that bit of surprised relief brings to light for Vergil just how much he had closed himself from her by bracing for the worst in his anger and hurt. There is still a ways to go yet before Vergil could likely say his walls were brought crumbling back down, but this is... This is something. This is something.
Tongues entwined with one another, Vergil draws her into his mouth before the kiss is at its end. His pulse feels loud, but he feels no sense of self-consciousness for it as each beat reflects all that he knows he would be unlikely to find the words to say himself. Mizu cannot be drawn much closer to him—his embrace has brought her close, and she presses against him—and yet, he remains eager for her warmth all the same. They remain as much even as the kiss is brought to its end, sharing breath with one another.
"I love you."
They're words he's said before to her. And even when he said them on that terrible night a month ago, he still meant them just as much then as he does now. But even so, Vergil cannot help that pleased little thrill that races through him, as though it were almost the first time all over again.
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Her face remains tilted up to meet his, and Mizu blinks at those words, only a slight wetness dampening her lashes. Those words have been a wonder, a balm, a banked fire in which to place her trust. They seemed to hurt him, last he spoke, because she'd hurt him, and still he loved her. Still, he loves her. They're softer this time in her ears. He won't leave. She has him. She has time. Even should she sleep alone in her bed tonight, she will not be as lonely. With or without his scent, with or without a shirt to replace the one long gone stale, Mizu can wrap herself in those words and assure herself.
Books sit in her cabin, stacked against the wall, spines pointed away, lest they be seen. A journal sits atop them, confused and rambling notes within. Dregs of tea pile atop the compost. More of a scholar's waste than a smith's, though they're mixed with that for a horse. Not a single book about England, unless one counts its poets and poetry, remain in the cabin. All signs Vergil did not get to see. They shape the words. Mizu leans her forehead against Vergil's, her grip as tight as before. "I. Love. You."
Lunch can wait. Anything can wait while they're near each other.
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"That is all I ever wanted," he says, quietly, their foreheads still gently pressed together. To be loved and to be protected. All he ever wanted and yet scarcely dared to ask of her, of anyone. He still finds himself approaching the prospect with trepidation, but it is beyond his understanding whether that is because of her previous harm or simply his own inherent mistrust in placing anything into the hands of others. Mizu offered these things to him before. And he had chosen to believe her then. The memory of that, the offer and his acceptance, bring tears to his eyes that he refuses to allow to fall. It is a pinprick now, after everything. The warmth of the memory stolen by bloodstains on the floor. In wanting again so much to be loved and protected, it feels he stands upon a precipice, peering down into a seemingly endless void and racked with uncertainty of what lay at the bottom.
And for that, he ultimately remains frozen. Today, Mizu has said and done nothing wrong. If anything, she has managed to say and do so very much right. But what she did is not able to be so readily and quickly erased even by so much right. It is impossible to release the totality of his insecurities regardless of what she's done in this span of time together again. He can tell himself again and again that he believes her—and know that he truly does believe her words, her love—but it is a leap of faith he is no longer prepared to take. A feeling that is at once terrible and awful, and all too familiar for him. But he wants to take it. He wants to trust her, and he must find satisfaction in that today for she must as well. It has to be enough to want, to let that serve as where they begin again. Otherwise, Vergil fears, they may very well be doomed to repeat these mistakes again. Or who knows? Perhaps it would be Vergil's sharp edges that would cut next time.
Vergil holds her face in his hand again.
"Say it again."
A request as soft as his kiss.
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Mizu was unlovable, but Vergil loves her. She can love and be loved, and she knows that (knew that). It's always been a marvel and Vergil the safest person to which she can turn. It started before there was anything to them but the respect between two opponents. When he carried her and made sure she was well enough not to die. More, truly, because he fed her and spoke with her. Mizu slept without concern around him. She slept through no choice of her own, pushing herself so far, but she woke up safe and sound. That was the start of trust. The groundwork.
He is not her mother. He is not Mikio. He is not Ringo or Taigen or Akemi. They chose each other together. They're choosing each other again now. Mizu takes deep breaths, and she remains grounded and even. For all her thoughts, she has the whole time standing here. Mizu looks up at Vergil, his face coming into clearer focus. Him, she chooses him, damn all she thought she knew when she came here. There's room for a sliver more than revenge. There's more to her than revenge.
"I love you," Mizu says quietly, more like a prayer in a shrine than a shout in a fight. Her hand slides around to trace the angles of his face. She knows better what that means. He'll see. He cannot yet, not fully, but he will.
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His hand at her back leaves for her hand at his cheek, holding it loosely as he turns his head a little further and places a kiss to her palm. They stay in such still quiet for a few moments longer—enough for heartbeats to settle—before Vergil breaks it. Vergil's other hand leaves Mizu's face and there is a movement for the nearly forgotten basket.
"Come," he says with a light tug to her hand, "a little further."
They are far enough from the station to avoid the majority of those in the region, but Vergil wishes to be a little further from the beaten path. Just in case someone is attempting to take a well-traveled path through Willow and deviates, he feels they ought to go further themselves to avoid the disturbance. And true enough, they do not walk for very long before he is satisfied. Only a couple minutes spent walking is ultimately before settling upon a blanket spread out over the grass. Vergil settles close beside Mizu, although he still does not yet go looking to touch her once more. Instead, he sets to emptying the basket's contents finally, spreading them out over the rest of the blanket where they do not sit while still generally remaining within arm's reach.
Food is generally food to Mizu based upon Vergil's observations. She is far from a picky eater and would be content to eat most anything regardless of its flavor. But still, he took care in choosing the ingredients and condiments Vergil felt Mizu might prefer for temaki. While that could very well be filling enough on its own, Vergil knows Mizu better than that. He also has a container of a light seaweed salad with its accompanying dressing separate, and another container in which a ham and cheese sandwich, an egg salad sandwich, and a tuna salad sandwich have been divided to form miniature sandwiches. He would have stopped there, but Kyrie caught him in the act. Thus, there is also a container filled with a large amount of chocolate-covered fruits, some plain and some with chopped nuts sprinkled over them as a compromise.
The last to be removed is a decent-sized jug of water (he would have brought tea if he'd had any guarantee it would still be warm by the time they settled down), dishes, and utensils. What utensils are needed for serving are placed with their respective items.
"I hope everything is to your liking," he says, pressing a kiss to her temple as he passes her the dishes and utensils she needs to eat. "It was impossible to prepare this without anyone else in the house knowing, and Kyrie was...insistent about the dessert."
Needed was the word she used.
"She said we need to have some kind of chocolate after so much time apart."
Vergil doesn't understand it, but Kyrie wanted to help in some way. Vergil could not find it within himself to say no even if there were certainly reasons within his reach that would not potentially bruise her feelings, such as Nero requiring more of her attention right now. It was a harmless thing that seemed to mean a great deal to Kyrie in the end, making it well worth it despite Vergil's lack of understanding. He also did not mind the company—her company in particular, no less—in the kitchen. It served as a decent distraction, preventing him from dwelling too long and too much in thought over this reunion in a way that could endanger his resolve. And it seemed to put Kyrie in a good mood, too.
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She only remembers lunch—the picnic—when Vergil picks up the basket and guides them on. It's the reason they're in Willow, and with her attention broken, Mizu remembers her hunger. Her day began with a small meal, but it's been some time. It may well have been longer, if Vergil hadn't come, if only because it's easy to lose herself in her work and not worry about physical needs until she steps away. It's true at the forge and with swordsmanship and, it seems, with study. Yet it's all part of her work. Eating food regularly, sleeping, everything. It all works toward what she wants.
The fog makes everything out of arm's reach farther away. Even sound travels a shorter distance, muffled and weak. It's difficult to judge exactly how much distance they need for real privacy, but they take it where they will. Mizu stays out of Vergil's way as he sets up: a mix of their cuisine, the rolls and salad familiar like home, while the sandwiches feel very much of Vergil. Home in a different sense, a reminder of the meals he's made before. Though honestly he's made many of them of her cuisine with her in mind.
Mizu serves herself without hesitation, large portions and pieces of most everything. The fruit covered in chocolate sits untouched for the moment. It does not match the rest of the food. She takes a bite of temaki before Vergil's words register. Mizu goes pink at the thought of Vergil's family. Naturally, they'd notice something was wrong when Mizu and Vergil kept their distance. Mizu supposes Nero doesn't know the specifics, as he has not called on her to kick her ass (a prospect that never impacted how she felt or what she did toward Vergil, but in light of how strongly she hurt Vergil, there's less excitement about a duel with Nero where he truly tries harder). She remains unused to families, to those people paying attention to each other's affairs with interest. Her time with Mikio and her mother a poor shadow of that experience.
"I read chocolate is an aphrodisiac, but we hardly need that," Mizu says. It's easier to consider the chocolate and dessert than to think about what Vergil's family made of their separation. Kyrie seems as nice as ever, so nice it puts Mizu ever so slightly on edge. There's always more to people than that. Kyrie may not have demonic powers, but Mizu finds someone who holds her own among those that do worth respect and concern.
She continues to eat the food. Mizu does not mean to rush, but once she eats a little, her stomach growls and wants more. It feels like a feast, given it's food Mizu does not need to measure and stretch the time she needs. There's more than enough. Vergil always makes enough to fill her and more, another meal or two atop that. She's missed his cooking, and that more than anything allows Mizu to slow down and really enjoy the taste. "It's good," Mizu says, "Your food is always good."
All that's missing is tea. While Mizu carefully manages her Lore, she pulls out her spoon to turn the jug of water into hot tea. It's not the best way to make tea, but it rounds the meal out. "Though you have to know I'd have been happy if all you'd brought was rice."
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He makes a slight face, shaking his head a little as Mizu suggests chocolate to be an aphrodisiac. Vergil didn't really understand Kyrie's insistence, but he doubts very much that was the angle Kyrie intended. It is so unlikely that he suspects Kyrie would likely be mortified to know that was the potential interpretation of the gesture.
"I know," he says with a slight smile, knowing full well she's not simply saying so to be polite. Vergil could probably bring completely unseasoned, half-cooked rice to her and Mizu would still eat it with a certain degree of contentment. "But you deserve more than just rice."
If Vergil was willing to make her a hearty soup in the immediate aftermath of what she did, he was certainly going to provide her with more than rice when making a gesture that he was ready to begin forgiving her.
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Mizu sips some tea to wash the flavors of one portion of her meal away so she can better enjoy one of Vergil's sandwiches. They're still an odd food to her, the balance of cheese and meat on the bread something she wouldn't consider on her own. The bread keeps the rich filling from overpowering her enjoyment. The Japanese food is more to her liking, but the sandwich feels of Vergil and his presence back in her life. It's even more satisfying to eat.
Mizu's gaze snaps to Vergil at the comment. She deserves more than rice. He would not say that weeks ago. The soup wasn't because she deserved it. She needed it, and Vergil provided everything she needed until she could heal herself. The meal not simply being a sign he loves her but that he thinks she deserves something makes her heart flutter. Mizu had no faith in herself when she started her work on what she wanted, but Vergil it feels did. Someone believed in her.
"It's the most delicious meal I've had in weeks," Mizu says plainly. "Thank you."
She pours some tea for Vergil, then herself. She passes it his way. It's his favorite kind, which she still has at her home. A much smaller gesture. "Don't worry. I have eaten two square meals a day the last weeks."
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"I was not worried," he says. There's a brief pause before he amends his sentence. "At least not once I saw you."
It was not exactly something that he concerned himself with too deeply, but even with as angry and hurt as he was, Vergil could not help but wonder if Mizu was managing alright on her own. He had no less than three people who made it their business to look after him. And they all certainly seemed to in their own ways as they took note of him remaining at home more often and general moodiness. But to Vergil's knowledge, Mizu had no one like that at present. Those she might have considered allowing have long since left. Thus, it was hard not to wonder at least a little if she was eating well or perhaps even at all. But she is not gaunt and visibly underfed, or lethargic, or anything else that would tell that she has not been eating enough.
But it was never a deep concern, and he clarifies as much.
"I am not conceited enough to believe you to ultimately be so reliant upon me though. You're more than capable of taking care of yourself."
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So Mizu doesn't need the clarification from Vergil. She appreciates that the recognition of her competence, a smaller measure now than he will need when she leaves. The thought pains her to have during this reunion where she's focused on Vergil, on them. Yet it's true. It's a thought he'll need to comfort himself, for what small comforts may be found. Mizu doesn't dwell on the thought or on her revenge. Today, this lunch, is not about that.
"I haven't interacted with many people or to any great extent," Mizu admits. "The librarian at Kuma Lisa Academy, the farmer who first hosted Kai, vendors at the farmers' market..." She shrugs. It's been enough to meet her needs. That's all she can ask for. It's so much effort to meet new people, and socializing is not an enjoyable activity for her most the time.
"No one could help me reflect, and that had my focus."
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Rather than asking though, giving voice to that curiosity that seems at once so dangerous and innocuous at the same time, he says, "I spoke little of it to anyone else. I did not see how speaking of it to others would help any when the matter lay between us. Although Nero was more insistent than usual in trying to ascertain more details from me out of a desire to protect me."
How sore and tired Nero was that day Vergil confirmed the boy's suspicions also likely played a role, too. The distraction of Vergil's love life probably would have been welcomed had Vergil been willing to discuss it. Alas for poor Nero, the topic was not up for discussion between them. The most Vergil was willing to say was acknowledge the trouble in paradise and that he had intentions of handling it when he was ready.
"Fortunately for you, he is genetically predisposed to a certain foolhardy stubbornness when it comes to his training, and earned himself bed rest for his troubles. Otherwise, I believe it would have been him knocking on your door before me," Vergil says with a touch of wry amusement. "Unfortunately for you, I believe he has learned his lesson."
Hopefully. Maybe. That genetic foolhardy stubbornness remains a powerful thing. But either way, there is definitely a non-zero possibility that Nero will turn up should something happen again in the future.
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Mizu raises an eyebrow at the comment about Nero earning bed rest. She's done the same repeatedly, and as much as Vergil may call it foolhardy, Mizu respects it. There's growth that comes from pushing yourself that hard. Vergil may make either of them pay for it hard enough they need a day or more in bed, but Vergil also will not do more than that. He will not seriously hurt either of them. Nero must know that as well as her. So he's a perfectly safe way to push their limits until they grow more than they would otherwise.
"If he's half as stubborn as me, I wouldn't hold my breath," Mizu says. Especially if something happened again. That thought churns her stomach. Mizu's not sure there'd be coming back from a second mistake and rightfully so. Only a fool would expect someone to continue to return from their trust getting broken repeatedly.
She sighs before taking another bite of the delicious food. There's no view worth paying attention to. Beyond her usual awareness of her surroundings, Mizu's focus lays on Vergil and the picnic he's bestowed as a gift, a bridge between them. "I didn't expect to change when I came here. I would come, I would study, and I would leave. Perhaps that was hubris. Fox spirits are famous not only for playing tricks but for those tricks changing people's lives. She's needed to do little beyond her decision to bring us here at the same time. Knowing you has done the rest."
Rin and with her Makie to a lesser degree. People. People more than tricks have changed Mizu's life in Folkmore. Changed her. She should have known better. Mizu recognized Ringo as a typhoon. Vergil wasn't as forceful at pushing himself into her life, but he's stayed a part of it much longer. Mizu may return to her time to complete her revenge, but she cannot return the same person.
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He's quiet a moment, thoughtful in his silence. Vergil had no intention of changing either. This was meant to be a temporary reprieve from the Underworld. A means to an end. But he met her, and even with as much uncertainty as there had been in their companionship, things began to fall into place so easily.
"I only hope you feel it is for the better," he says, lifting his gaze back to hers again. Vergil knows for his part, he certain feels he's grown to be a better person because of her, because of them. But what it takes for Vergil to have grown to be a better person looks different than what he assumes she would accept as better for herself. His sharp edges need to be dulled. He needs to be a gentler, kinder person than he has been. He needs to be less on his guard, more forgiving, and allow people in. He needs to be less afraid of being loved and loving someone else. Vergil cannot be much of a brother to Dante, dad to Nero, or lover to Mizu otherwise. Vergil does not know if such things serve Mizu well, or if it puts her at risk of not surviving the hard path that lies before her in her world.
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Mizu stares through Vergil, unfocused, as she tries to answer the question. Everything sifts through her fingers like water until she lands on some of the last words swordfather gave her: I did not train you to be a demon or a human. I showed you how to be an artist. To be an artist is to do one thing only. That is what she thought she would do when she came here, and she thought she knew what that was. Vergil— As selfishly as Mizu does not want Vergil to serve that purpose (though that would make her a bad artist), she cannot deny the ways he's helped her on her path to revenge. The obvious, the most obvious, is the way that sparring together has improved her skills immensely. It's the first time she's gotten to fight someone as good as or better than her where the consequence of losing is not death. Incredible the ways that allows her to grow. It's far better than the practice in a dojo, where those involved do not live or die by their blade the way Mizu and Vergil have. Yet that's not what she meant when she said she's changed. That alone wouldn't be a change.
It started small. Vergil taught her not to be as reckless. She puts everything on the line, still, but it costs more to take her life, to defeat her, than the desperate lengths she reached early in their sparring. It grew from there, from the respect they have for each other, and more. It's— it isn't anything to do with fighting in the end. It's what they've made together. It's Vergil's acceptance of her, all of her. No one else has seen her so fully, no one's seen so much of her and accepted her. It speaks to the possibility of life after revenge, to more than the spark within her—to Mizu burning herself to see her fathers dead. She shall have no rest at home until she sees her revenge through. Yet once she does, she might find a single person in all of Japan able to accept her. Even one would change her life, would let her have a life. As little as Mizu can imagine finding that with someone else, she hungers for it. It's why the trial on the train tempted her, not only the answer for her revenge but the chance for a life with Vergil as well, a life with that afterward.
And Mizu? She more than hungers for it. She's learned to let someone in. She's exposed herself to Vergil without the betrayal and horror that followed with Mikio. After that failure, the betrayal of both her mother and Mikio, Mizu closed herself off from everyone. Ringo never got as close because Mizu didn't let him. Taigen stood no chance. And Akemi? Laughable. Every conversation with Madam Kaji was a transaction, nothing more. The very fact Mizu can name everyone who might have stood a chance to be let in speaks to what her life was like. What she was like.
Her tongue runs over her teeth, white and square. Human. "I now have a reason to survive my revenge."
What could be better than that?
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Her answer has changed over time. She balked the first time Vergil asked, and understandably so. His desires have never changed, but he did not allow for them when he was younger and more foolish than he is now. It was too great a thing to give voice to such desires, to acknowledge what he assumed to be weakness. Thus, he cannot fault Mizu's initial reluctance to acknowledge or name anything, to keep her focus on her mission rather than the aftermath to avoid weakness or distractions.
And then she acknowledged what she would want, if it were possible. She would like to find something like this again in the future, to find someone who loves and accepts her without reservations. But to her, it has always been an impossible, an exception rather than the possibility of hope. What exists between them, it always seemed, she credited to the realm's existence, the simple fortune of having been brought here at the same time. Vergil never argued too much over the point in so much, he's never made an effort to convince her otherwise. But he's never made secret he doesn't believe it to be as impossible of a thing as she believes either. Just as he does not believe she is some cold, unfeeling monster. He has seen too much of her heart, too much of her humanity to believe otherwise on either front.
But this is the first time Mizu has said it without qualification, without an expression of her usual skepticism on the possibility of it. That there is more to her, to her life than her revenge. That her revenge truly serves the purpose of freeing her to live rather than providing her with the drive to do so. Honestly, it catches Vergil a bit off-guard to hear her say it. Mizu has been far too consistent and reliable in the way she speaks of her revenge for it to not surprise him to her hear speak of it otherwise. For a moment, Vergil finds himself too dumbfounded to form words as his response. At least nothing more than the quiet oh to fill the silence until he briefly averts his gaze as he feels his face warm slightly over how pleasing it is to hear her say that. From the moment they first met, Vergil has wanted to tame that fire within her. Not to make her in some docile thing, of course, but to temper it into something that can be useful to her, not self-destructive. What little glimpses of such tempering he's had since their first spar were rewarding, but there's little denying that what she did a month ago shattered whatever hope or thought that perhaps she was beginning to make the right changes. And now...? He thinks he is beginning to understand more the conclusions she reached in their time apart.
Vergil lightly clears his throat as though that would clear away his momentary silence as well, glancing at her.
"You've grown stronger then." Better. "Good."
It is a short word of praise, being all that he can manage for the moment, but what Vergil does not say with words is said with his gaze. It is still with love and respect that he looks at Mizu, but there is something more, too. Something renewed with such an ultimately simple declaration on her part. He glances away again, a shy smile on his lips.
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Mizu would prefer to make her life with Vergil after her revenge than with someone else. However, some things remain impossible. She will have to remember not to compare them to Vergil or they'll forever suffer for it.
Vital to all of it, to any future beyond revenge, is doing right with Vergil right now. Mizu hardly expects to find someone better at forming a relationship and with such wildly unusual views. It will never be as easy as with him. In many ways, it felt like little work. She merely showed a little more of herself time and again for Vergil to accept it and her each and every time. He cooks and cleans. His parents' relationship sounds utterly foreign, yet it frees Mizu from any different expectation as a woman than she'd have as a man. It's... well, Mizu expects anyone else, even if they can love and accept her, to be a lot more work. So if she cannot make it work with Vergil, she will not ever make it work after her revenge.
Her face burns with color at the look Vergil gives her, a look she's missed and longed for and not been sure she'd ever see return. "It's been true," Mizu insists, the heat refusing to leave, "I had to recognize and acknowledge it."
Her actions, despite her mistake, speak to it. Slow steady actions over time, ones she might have wrestled with as not serving her purpose before. Whether selfishness would have won or Mizu made some other mistake, she's not certain. The risk of losing Vergil, the very real possibility, forced her to look at everything differently. Perhaps she understands Master Eiji's words a little better now. Perhaps she's taken them wholly differently than he meant. Mizu's found her meaning.