!DISCLAIMER: I do not own Devil May Cry and/or any of the characters or concepts therein!
Special
"Dante!"
She caught the younger of her two sons doing something drastic: trying to chip away at the cast on his lower arm with a butter knife. When she caught him, his expression went from determined to panicked.
She frowned at him. "Dante, what are you doing? Your cast was supposed to stay on for two weeks!"
He slowly laid the butter knife on the cutting board. "...But it doesn't hurt anymore," he said glumly.
She was slightly taken aback, despite knowing better. It seemed that it was time for a dreaded talk with her boys.
She took Dante into the living room. Vergil was already sitting on the couch, reading some books that most adults had never even heard of.
Dante plopped down next to him and tapped his shoulder. "You snitch! You told on me!"
Vergil did not look away from his book. "You told me what you were going to do."
"I told you not to tell!"
"I wouldn't lie to Mother."
Dante wouldn't, either. He stopped arguing but kept pouting.
Their mother pulled up a chair to sit on and sighed. Vergil put his book away and listened.
"Boys... you're not like other kids. You're... special."
She looked down at her nails, trying to find the words. "You have advantages over other children. But you have to be careful. It doesn't mean you're better than other people. You can't compare yourselves to the other kids."
"Why, Mom?" Dante asked.
It was so hard to tell them the truth. When she and Sparda began their union, they were unsure what their hypothetical offspring would be like.
There were no other children like them in the world, but for now at least, they seemed normal. She did all she could to raise them with love and care after the sudden, inexplicable disappearance of their father. But she couldn't bring herself to tell them that they would be more than a little different or special one day.
"Because... you can't be hurt as easily as the others..."
Dante looked confused. He had never really injured himself prior to the incident where he broke his arm trying to imitate a flying cartoon character, and he hadn't given much thought to the scrapes and bruises of the other children.
Maybe he was different.
Their mother reflected on what nor- average children go through, like colds and infections. They had none. Ever.
Vergil did not have any questions, unlike Dante.
She walked across the room to kiss Dante on the forehead, then Vergil. "Dante, tomorrow, we can see about getting your cast removed. Okay?"
"...'Kay."
"Be careful when you play, all right?"
"Yeah..."
"You, too, Vergil."
"All right, Mother," He returned to his book.
They went on with their day. She would take Dante to a different hospital the next day to remove his cast so that they don't get suspicious.
The talk went well, but she still felt like a bit of a failure. After all, she couldn't protect them from the world forever, even though she needed to.