Theme: Inspiration

Characters: Dante, Nero

Genre(s): Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Character Death

Dante sighed as his thumping footfalls came to a slow halt. The devil hunter leaned against the stone archway leading from the church's courtyard into a small atrium, crossing his arms over his chest. His head lolled slightly as he watched his younger partner kneeling over a gravestone near the opposite wall. The poor kid looked as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He wasn't even trying to hold it up, simply resigning to be crushed beneath it. Dante felt guilty to admit that he was slightly annoyed, not by Nero, but by being forced to again deal with the death of a loved one that wasn't even his own. He had only known Kyrie in the sense that he could match her name to her face. She had meant nothing at all to him. However, he understood Nero's pain. It was a pain he himself had suffered too many times before.

"It's gettin' kinda late, kid," called Dante softly. "We should get going soon."

Discovering Kyrie's death had been a bit of an accident. A random citizen in Fortuna had contacted the two devil hunters about some leftover demons roaming around the outskirts of town. She informed that a few people had already gotten hurt, and she feared that the creatures would return to the town to wreak more havoc. The prospect of exploring the island and hunting for any demons remaining had excited both Nero and Dante, so they accepted the job. Nero had happily declared that he could visit Kyrie while he was there and that she would let them stay over for a few days so that they could scope the entire island. However, upon arriving at Kyrie's empty house, a "for sale" sign in the window, a neighbor had the courtesy to deliver the bad news. At first, Nero had been too shocked to feel anything. The color fled from his face, and Dante had feared the younger man would faint. It wasn't until Dante coaxed the location of her grave out of him and gently escorted him there that Nero broke down. It was as if he had needed to see evidence before he could accept the truth. Kyrie's gravestone had been enough.

As a courtesy to Nero, Dante had taken it upon himself to finish the job alone, patting Nero on the shoulder before leaving him to his grieving. Of course, instead of covering the whole island, he simply opted to take out the demons lurking closest to the small castle town. However, it had still taken him over an hour to circle the entire perimeter and it appeared Nero hadn't moved an inch since he left.

Dante allowed several more silent minutes to pass, but Nero never responded. Impatience got the better of him, and Dante slowly approached the younger man, placing a hand on his shoulder. He lightly squeezed a few times before simply leaving his hand there as if it were some sort of security blanket. He hoped, at least, that it would offer some consolation to Nero.

"Look, kid," he said softly, "you're gonna lose people in life. The best thing you can do is just try to move on. Don't forget them completely, but go on with your life."

It felt incredibly awkward to offer such deep, heartfelt advice, especially for someone like Dante, who was rarely emotionally open about anything. However, he knew something had to be said, and who better to say it than the man who had lost practically everyone close to him? The kid had lost his adopted parents, his brother only a year ago, and, now, his sister, too, but that didn't mean he should let it eat away at him. Grieving was enough; dwelling on things day after day never solved anything. Dante had learned that lesson years ago.

"It gets a little better every day... If they cared anything about you, that's what they'd want."

Eventually, Nero nodded and wiped his eyes, slowly pushing himself to his feet. His legs were numb from kneeling for so long and standing was painful. The young devil dusted thin blades of grass and dirt off the front of his pants. He knew they would be stained, but he didn't particularly care. In fact, he didn't really care about anything. Kyrie and Credo were on his mind, and he could think of nothing else. Not that he wanted to, anyway. He wanted to take Dante's advice, but he wasn't quite finished with grieving. Tears stung his eyes every few seconds, but he managed to suppress them, afraid to cry in front of Dante. Just in case a tear slipped out, however, Nero followed behind Dante rather than by his side, hoping the halfbreed wouldn't turn around at the wrong moment.

When the two hunters finally made it to the port and back onto the ferry, Nero sat an unusual distance from the older man. He felt that if he sat too close, he would be tempted to cry into Dante's shoulder or something else as pathetic. Dante respected his distance, however, and kept his eyes off of Nero out of sympathy. Nero was thankful for that because it gave him the opportunity to study the older hunter as he had so urgently needed to after the man's advising in the cemetery.

From the way he spoke, Nero could tell that Dante hadn't simply pulled some heartfelt words out of his ass. He had heard in nonspecific terms that Dante had lost several people he loved. He was experiencing a pain that Dante had dealt with many times before. And, yet, though Nero felt that his world was slowly screeching to a halt, Dante went about life as if nothing had ever happened. Of course, Nero knew he bore scars somewhere deep inside, but his life wasn't over because of them. The younger man had to wonder if it was simply the inner strength of his older partner or something learned through experience. He supposed it was the latter, but the former certainly wouldn't have surprised him. As much as it frustrated him, Nero would admit that he aspired to be like Dante—stoic and resolved. He wanted to live life without crumbling under every bad thing fate threw at him.

An hour or so later found the hunters back home. The sun had already set and brought an end to a particularly uneventful day. As Nero slipped his boots off at the door, Dante was removing his coat and holsters. Eventually, he threw his vest off, too, sighing in relief at the cool air. Nero stared silently at him for a few moments, debating on doing what he suddenly felt the stupid urge to do. In the end, he decided to just go for it, albeit in a particularly awkward but quick fashion.

As soon as Dante turned around, Nero's arms were wrapped loosely around his neck. The older hunter stiffened, holding his arms away from the younger man in shock as his brain tried to process what was happening. There was a nervous feeling in Nero's gut, but he managed to croak out a few words.

"Thanks, Dante," he mumbled in the hunter's ear.

"No problem, kid," replied Dante as he hugged the younger devil in return, over the initial shock of having Nero's body slam into his own. The hunter patted him on the back, waiting for Nero to detach himself, though it seemed that would take awhile as Dante felt him begin to shake and heard a little sniffle in his ear.

A/N: It was so difficult to get past this theme! D: But I finally did it. However, I'm not really happy with how I wrote it. I like the idea, but the wording and pacing is just awkward. My brain wouldn't cooperate. :( But please give me your opinions. Hope you enjoyed it.