Notes of V

      She hasn't changed much, Vergil noticed.       In an unfamiliar city, among the crowd, she caught his eye. Her hair, shimmered copper in the sun, was tied in a ponytailand nolonger hidden under a white hood-shaped scarf. On such a hot day, she went out in a dark blue dress with bare shoulders instead ofthe red closedone. He couldn’t see her face: they were separated by several blocks. Vergil only managed to go out ofabookstore and recognize her.       "How long has she been here? Did she escape Fortuna? Or was she banished... because of me and Nero?"       Hiding around the alley corner, the eldest son of Sparda felt a strange excitement. His heart began to beat slowly, a lump rose in his throat, and an unpleasant chill ran down his spine. But as soon as he thought about her again, the ache in his chest disappeared. The corners of his lips lifted: he was glad to see her. He wanted to go up to her, ask her about many things, and, finally, tell her how sorry he was to leave her.       But he was unable to step over his pride and give in to his feelings. His gaze slid over the Yamato, peacefully resting in its sheath. His left hand lowered the bag with clothes and books onto the asphalt, and he reached for the hilt. The blade flashed in an alley’s darkness.       “Don’t you dare,” the voice of V, the human side of the half-demon, was alarmed.       “It’s not up to you to decide.”       “You’ve called me too often. Twice yesterday. That’s enough for me, Vergil!”       V was right. Never having learned to express his own feelings, Vergil kept a cold attitude—in words, in gestures, and in avoiding hugs from his annoying brother or son. In the end, Nero accepted his father with surprising warmth, and it was worth repaying in kind. Yesterday, Nero only mentioned a joint trip that would help Kyrie to unwind and, in addition, to spend time with his father. Vergil disappeared into the utility room; a couple of minutes later, V answered "yes," shyly peeking out from behind the door. The reason for a second call was Vergil's unwillingness to waste his time shopping. Nero felt awkward when a skinny 'tattooed' guy was fitting on oversized clothes.       "I know how hard it is to accept your own weakness and feelings," V's voice sounded softer. "You should talk to her. I feel how you want to come and..."       But Vergil stood his ground: his hands had already raised the sword, and its tip barely touched his stomach.       "You'll find clothes in the bag," Sparda's eldest son barely audibly whispered. A loud exhalation drowned out the weak protest.       An invisible force threw V onto the sidewalk. The asphalt painfully scratched his skin, and his eyes squinted from the light. From all sides, the street opened up to him, and rare passers-by looked back and stared at the naked guy.       One shadow covered him. This shadow turned out to be her – a short but slender woman dressed in the dark blue dress. V involuntarily admired: the memories washed over him, and even the past twenty-five years did not touch his love from the past. Only wrinkles appeared on her forehead, and the sparkle in her green eyes disappeared. A moment later, her eyes narrowed.       The guy felt her gaze quickly run over his raven hair, the inky ornate patterns on his arms, chest, and stomach. When her sunken cheeks flushed, the woman nervously squeezed her bag.       The next second, V felt the bag’s weight on himself.       “P-pervert!” A cry full of indignation spread throughout the area.       The blows felt down like hail. V’s hands barely managed to cover his face. V clenched his teeth and listened to her voice, roughened by rage, as if that subtle one from memory had never existed. And the echo of her rage made him understand: Vergil should have taken the blow and listened to the insults. If Vergil had enough courage to approach her, if Vergil had not called him anymore...       His lips trembled from pain, but V still grinned. The situation played into his hands; overly curious passers-by watched the unfolding scene. They did not even notice Vergil, surprisingly calm at such a moment. Only the human part of the half-demon caught his ragged breathing and barely heard the restrained groans.       It was time to act, V decided. The woman swung again, but her bag was caught in mid-air. Smiling carnivorously, V confidently said, “Pervert? But that night you screamed something else.” These words made the formerly beloved blush brightly.       “What are you...?” Her voice trembled, and someone’s laughter angered her and brought back her confidence. “Who do you take me for?!”       “You don’t recognize me, I understand. A different face, a different hair color, a different body, but... even some things have remained unchanged,” V whispered sweetly and slowly slid his hand below his stomach.       He stared at her, so indignant and shame-blushing at the same time. Her hands snatched the bag and raised it above V's head for another swing, but a terrible guttural voice was heard from the alley depths.       “You bastard...”       The passers-by shuddered and ran away in horror. Only one pair of frightened eyes looked at the ash-haired man pierced by a katana. He was choking on blood and spitting it onto the asphalt, but he tried to hold on with dignity. His leg, bent at the knee, trembled, and the hand, put out in time, prevented him from falling. A cold gaze darted to the slender figure of his beloved, who pressed her hand to the chest. The unfortunate woman turned pale in an instant.       “Ver-gil?” she whispered in one breath.       Noticing how she staggered, V immediately extended his hand. The summoned Shadow spread out like a black cloud and, carefully catching the woman, scattered into dust. V rose and smiled softly despite his fatigue, spent strength, and pain. A warm memory enveloped him…       “ ‘You are a rose that puts down roots in my heart. Now you wound me with thorns.’ Do you remember how you said it? Horribly banal, but for her…”       "Kyrie, get back! Stay there!" A familiar voice was heard from the other side of the street. Before V could turn around, a heavy, dirty coat fell on his shoulders. It still reeked of demon blood, but Nero chose to cover the naked figure with something.       "I went to the laundry, they call it..." the guy muttered irritably and glanced into the alley. "What the fuck are you doing, Vergil?!"       "Nero, don't swear," the brunette insisted sternly while putting on Nero’s coat.       The young devil hunter immediately interrupted him, "Dad, don't interfere! You both have caused a ruckus in the area." Nero looked at the woman lying down. “After that, I would have fallen myself too... Hey, do you even hear me?”       Nero felt the situation become tense. Vergil cast an indignant gaze at stunned V. Pale shadows of summoned blades flashed in the air, but they immediately evaporated: Sparda’s son spat out blood and groaned hoarsely.       “You have punished yourself.” Nero exhaled tiredly. “Okay, I'll summon Yamato, and you…”       “Wait,” V asked softly. “I need to do something before I return to his body.” V leaned over Vergil's former lover. His lips touched her forehead weightlessly and whispered tenderly. "My apologies. I didn't mean to do this to you."       "Do you know her?" A silent question was read in Nero's eyes.       “He certainly won't admit it, but you should know... It's your mother, Nero.”       The young hunter froze in amazement. It was both similar and different from Dante's frankness about Vergil. Having calmed his excitement, Nero thanked V and summoned Yamato. The human part of his father smiled the last time and dissipated in the air with a neon glow.       Finding out about his mother, Nero did not feel the same hatred towards her that he had towards Vergil. Being an orphan, he had time to think about his real family, to imagine how unbearable it would be to live under the strict orders and established morals of Fortuna.       "Now the present matters." With this thought, Nero knelt down in front of his mother, carefully putting his left hand under her neck and his right under her legs. In one jerk he rose to his full height. She still didn’t wake up. Looking from her serene face to Vergil, he said coldly. "If you think I've heard enough, you're very much mistaken. You'll tell me everything... father."