Fortuna was nicer from up above. Quieter. Away from the prying eyes of its citizens, the demons, and my damned brother, I couldn't deny the city's beauty. From my perch atop the cathedral - that would have made Dante crack another one of those stupid bird jokes - the city lay before me dusted with snow. Remnants of destruction marred the picturesque view. The structures that had survived were unchanged from how I recalled them from years before during my brief visit to the island.

I hated looking at it.

During my stay, I hadn't bothered to explore much of the city. I didn't want to draw that much attention, and I didn't care about the place beyond their information on Sparda. But now, every street, every building - it was all familiar. It was all important. I could picture what it looked like down each blind alley blocked from my view. I knew the inside of both the bar and the school, though I'd never been in either.

And yet I could remember setting foot in both of them. The memories of the school were all so bitter that they began to fester like a wound before I even began to consider them. The bar was comfortable, though. Warm and quiet. I was handed a drink, and someone smiled as I gagged against the taste. The air hummed with some vague mix of jazz songs. A hand pressed to my shoulder.

But that wasn't me. I hadn't even been conscious or aware at the time. None of it made sense, but I could remember names and faces of people I'd never met, never seen.

Credo was the worst of them. My only exposure to him had been in listening to Nero speak to him after I regained my hearing. I had been there in that stinging moment of betrayal and later, when he fell. Though I hadn't seen it happen, I could remember the whole scene clearly, a frantic storm of anguish that ripped my reason to shreds. Even now, the pain was still fresh. I had failed him. I had been too weak, and I had let him fall. My chest felt weighted yet empty with agony at the memory.

But that wasn't me! My hand clutched at my head as I struggled to unravel my thoughts from the boy's. He was like an infection, a parasite invading my every thought. I was supposed to be the stronger of the two of us. I was supposed to be able to down him out.

Even while unconscious, he was still obnoxiously stubborn. After I'd gained control, he'd spent so long trying to fight me off, a wasted effort. He would fight for use of a limb, an ear, or an eye, though I never let him have the latter. I found it to be more annoying than a real hindrance. But, just to quiet him down, I allowed him control long enough to drain the last of his energy. In that time, he saw how weak he was, and he got to say his goodbyes. I thought that was fair enough.

Some part of him must have disagreed because he was still troubling me. Hissing a sigh through clenched teeth, I did what I never imagined I would consider. I gave him something back.

"I need to speak with you," I said, the left ear once again deadened to me. "I know you can hear me, so speak."

"Wh...what?" His response was both whispered and slurred, near incoherent even as it came from my own lips.

"I've given you an ear and am varying control between our mouth. Makes for a simpler conversation than having to write, I think."

I had to allow him a minute to relearn how to speak and breathe, my lungs staggering against his harsh gasps. I had been the same upon first gaining control. It had been so long since I'd felt anything that having every sense hit me at once was overwhelming, but as he spoke, it became apparent that he was the opposite. "I can't… I can't see anything. I can't feel anything… There's nothing. This isn't right. What's going on? Where am I? Where am I!? Fuck, fu-"

"Very well, calm down," I said, snapping control away. He had my pulse hammering from his frantic thoughts. Even without hearing him speak further, I could feel his panic in the back of my mind. He wasn't used to the sensory deprivation yet.

As I relinquished the sight of my left eye once again, my vision on that side went out like a lightbulb. Darkness flashed in.

"There, that should give you some sight to stabilize yourself, though you'll still be following where I choose to look. Now are you up to talk?"

"Fuck you!"

I'd forgotten whom I was dealing with. "Lines like that become odd when we're in the same body, you know." I could sense a scathing response from him, so I chose not to let him speak yet. "I woke you so that we could talk. Refuse to cooperate if you wish. I'll just put you back to sleep in that case."

"You say that like you won't do the same thing even if I do cooperate." His tone was more exhausted than biting, as though he could no longer find the energy to summon his usual defense - anger.

"You're right," I said. "I suppose the end result is the same, but I will allow this opportunity for you to ask further questions. It's only fair."

He must not have agreed because I felt his snarl twisting my expression. "You going to tell me what the hell your problem is?"

"We would be here all day if I tried to tackle such a subject."

"Is… is that a joke?"

"That depends on whether a joke needs to be humorous or farcical."

He heaved a sigh. "Listening to you talk gets old fast. You're even worse than you were on paper. Get to the point. What do you want?"

In truth, that was a good question. I wasn't certain what I wanted from him. I wanted a great many things, none that he could provide. "Nero," I began with hesitation. "Do you feel like you have any memories that aren't yours?"

For several seconds, he said nothing. In silence, we watched the cityscape together with the same set of eyes. Another strike of pain hit my chest, some poisonous mix of fear, anger, and adoration. These I knew to be his feelings, not mine, but I felt them all the same. For some bizarre reason, he cared for that damned city, and seeing it from a distance distressed him.

"I… don't think so," he said finally, "but I think I was dreaming. Weird dreams. Did you dream when you were like that?"

"No, not really." Hearing his voice and others in the distance had felt like a dream at times. Without any access to my hearing, he shouldn't have had that. He may have truly been dreaming.

"Who are you?" he asked. A strange question, accusatory almost.

"I told you my name."

"Yeah, whatever, Black." He bit out the odd nickname as if it were an insult. Unfortunately for him, I didn't hate it. I could have left things at that, but I'd promised to answer his questions in return.

"Strange that Dante never mentioned me," I said. "I wonder if he ever does. Well, I suppose there was that one instance. He told you he had a brother." He'd said it without any malice or discontent. A simple fact - "It belonged to my brother." The pain in my chest was my own this time, but I couldn't understand why. It wasn't as though I should have expected anything of Dante, and it had been so long since he had seen me, so long since he'd thought me dead.

He had no reason to care about me.

It was clear that he cared about the boy. That was the only reason I wasn't dead yet. Dante wanted Nero safe. If not for me possessing Nero's body, Dante surely would have struck me down long ago. All we'd ever shared was blood and the troubles I'd placed on his shoulders.

"Are you saying you actually are Dante's brother?" Nero drawled.

His wording was a bit odd, but I did not dwell on it. "That is correct."

"Well, I guess this is officially the most awkward thing possible. For the record, I fucking hate you."

Though he couldn't see or feel it, I shrugged. "I will let you know when I care."

"Oh, and you're just as infuriating as your brother too." He smiled as though bearing his teeth. "Fantastic."

"Impossible. No one is as infuriating as Dante."

"You're really gunning for the top spot, though."

The corner of my lips tugged toward a smile before I could stop it. "I do my best," I said. "Nero, I have another question."

"Can I have an arm or something first? Not being able to move is driving me crazy."

"If I gave it to you, you would hit me."

"I would hit me, asshole." Unlike Dante, Nero seemed prepared to tear himself to pieces if it meant harming me.

"Being self-destructive does you little good," I said. "A little pain is nothing to me, and you will upset Kyrie." And Dante.

"Don't you say her name!"

"Fine. The girl, then." Like that was any better.

His demonic blood became apparent as he growled through gritted teeth. To keep him from trying to bite off my tongue, I allowed him access to move his left pointer finger. Distracted, he flicked it up and down, tapping it against Yamato's sheath.

"You carry Yamato?" he asked.

I couldn't contain my surprise, my brows raising as I looked down to bring the sword into his view for the first time. "You could tell it was Yamato? Just like that?"

"Sure. Couldn't you? I don't know any other sword that makes my skin crawl like that bastard."

"My sword is not a 'bastard,'" I muttered before leveling my voice again. "You haven't been around many devil arms. They're all like that."

"They're all bastards?"

He was smirking with my mouth, smirking like my damn brother. I took control back to put an end to that. "My question, then, Nero," I reminded him.

"What?"

"Tell me why you care about this island." Because I was sick of feeling any affection for it. No sane man would care about the wretched place. The foolish cultists infested it just like the demons, and I'd heard enough to know that they held no love for their true savior. Most had not taken kindly to Nero demolishing their false god. Fortuna was a mess of ruins and graves. The shine should have worn off long ago for Nero.

"Fortuna is just Fortuna," he said. I had a strange desire to paw at my nose, but I suppressed it. "I live here, and so does Kyrie. Not like I care. I just have to keep the place clean."

"You're lying." I could feel it in my gut. He couldn't lie to me. "You care for this hellhole, not just the girl but the city, the docks, the forest, and even that broken Order building that's crumbling into the sea. You care, and I can't fathom why."

He paused, swallowing hard. I expected him to deny it or demand to know how I knew that. My blind left eye twitched with a growing discomfort, so I relinquished my control of our gaze to him. Our eyes flicked to the stone below, and I felt my chest grow tight. A memory played along the shattered fountain, children splashing barefoot in the water on a hot day. A man and woman had dragged them out kicking and whining.

Our eyes tore from it to the direction of his house, blocked from view at such a distance. Being inside it had always held an air of remorse. Silence seemed to press in from the pictures on the walls.

It had been home for him once, but it was not any longer. I had been able to hear one night when Nero sat in silence on the couch and Kyrie cried against his shoulder. Neither had said a word, but I had shut myself out to avoid listening regardless. It seemed rude to eavesdrop, and the quiet had been far too visceral, as though it could cut through flesh and bone.

"I don't know either," Nero said, voice thin as paper. "I don't know why I care. I guess… I swore I would protect the place. That's part of the oath of the Holy Knights. Are you… going to make me leave?"

"Of course," I said. "I have no reason to stay here. Besides, I'd be better off in a place where no one knows your face. Unless Dante has his way, I will leave as soon as possible."

Nero took a deep, slow breath, letting it out as a quiet sigh. "Dante won't stop you," he said.

"You think not? He did promise you that he would end your life if you lost control completely."

Nero laughed, bitter and void of any humor. "No, Dante wouldn't want to kill you. You're his brother. I'm just some kid he met."

"He's killed me before."

"He wouldn't want to do it again."

"You presume to know too much about my brother." Dante was not as flippant as he appeared. I'd heard enough of how he talked to the boy to know that. As for how he felt about me, I had sacrificed any ties to familial love long ago. I didn't care to think about it, so I turned the accusations back on Nero. "Are you so resigned to death now? I thought you were going to fight me."

"Yeah, I'll take you out with half my sight, one finger, and a few scathing words." Again, his voice lacked any humor. "I'll find something. I'm sure I will. Just give me some time." He tried to lace venom into his words, but I could feel the plea beneath it. "Black, just… Don't you dare hurt anyone. Leave my island alone. There's enough shit going on right now that's putting everyone in danger, and without me… I swear, I will fucking end you the moment you spill a drop of blood."

"I believe you," I said with a nod. "I suppose, given the circumstances, I can offer you one last favor."

"Not killing people isn't a favor!"

That wasn't what I meant, but I doubted my ability to talk him down with his anger flaring back up. "Rest well, Nero," I said. "I will take care of things for you."

He slipped away like a voice lost in the breeze. My mind eased from the added pressure of his presence, and while a sliver of his anger still burned in my chest, it was nowhere near the searing rage from moments before. My left eye returned to me along with my finger.

Giving him a taste of consciousness only to steal it away may have been crueler than just letting him sleep. I wouldn't wish to make him suffer like that. I'd been trying to avoid it.

That thought came as an intrusion, like a bullet cracking against my skull. It was far from the first time it appeared, but that didn't make it any less troubling. My brow pinched enough to threaten a headache as I slipped down along the adjacent roofs, recalling how I'd tried to bandage the boy's wounds one night before control had slipped away. I'd tried to get the idiot to actually eat something as well. Bread was the first thing I found in the kitchen when I brushed past Kyrie, so I'd grabbed that, but the moment I sat down, he'd woken up.

But I assured myself that wasn't for his sake as much as my own. If I'd left him to his devices, he would have destroyed the body I needed. If he felt some pain from wounds I'd gained from relearning to fight, it didn't matter to me. Besides, he could handle what little pain he did receive. I'd split the sense between the two of us so that I could know when I took damage. Of course, with his pain lessened, he became more reckless.

He was so damn difficult. Only an idiot would put that much spice on his food. The idea of red pepper still made me ill, and I didn't even want to think about the strawberries. Honestly, it was a wonder I'd managed to keep us alive at all.

But, then again, he would not have been in such a state in the first place if not for me.

Not that it mattered. The form was mine now. He was no longer conscious of anything, and he would not be again. I had given him enough time and done enough for him.

I shouldn't have promised him another favor, but what was done was done. The practice that came with it would be useful if nothing else.

When the buildings grew thin at the city's edge, I dropped to ground level. My left leg staggered under my weight enough that I had to stumble a few steps forward to regain my balance. "Dammit," I grumbled, glaring at my feet to ensure that they would behave. Relearning how to walk had been a humiliating process, and my left side had given me trouble since I'd gained full control.

I wouldn't have minded as much if no one had seen my mistake. Until I managed to get off the island, it seemed privacy was going to be a rare luxury. How annoying.

Sliding my troublesome left foot back, I turned to the side to let the knife fly by, quiet as a whisper as it cut the air. "That one would have hit near my spine," I said, "near my heart. Not a strong enough throw to do any real damage, but it's an improvement."

Kyrie's eyes were darkened, a cloud of hatred covering her fears. She stood at the corner of the street as though she'd just turned it to find me there. With how conspicuous I'd been on the roofs, she may have followed me. Another knife lay in her practiced grip. "I won't kill you, Black," she said, "but I will stop you. Give Nero back."

Unlike Dante, she was never uncertain about whether Nero or I had control. And, unlike Dante, her tone held no trace of uncertainty. It was nice to see someone determined for once. Though I considered correcting her on my name, I still couldn't help but find it amusing that she'd given me a nickname in the first place. I spared her from a smile, not wanting her to think I was mocking her.

"You're still not willing to kill me?" I asked, my tone plain with honest curiosity. I couldn't help but wonder if she heard the boy's voice when I spoke, or if we sounded different.

"I just want Nero back," she said. "You know I can't kill you."

"But I could kill you." It was a fact, not a threat. I had no need to harm her.

My words did not frighten her. If anything, her visage set deeper in determination, and she whipped the second knife toward me hard enough that it could have dug between my ribs and deep into my lung. I could have sidestepped that one as well without any trouble, but I drew Yamato and slashed the knife away in one quick motion. If she wished to face me as an opponent, then I would allow her my full attention.

That was a mistake. The wolves had circled in close without my knowledge.

A volley of shots rang in my ears as I twisted Yamato up to catch the bullets. They were small in caliber with deadly accuracy. Had I been any slower, I would have lost an eye at the least. At the edge of my vision, the bright white of Kyrie's dress disappeared behind a flash of black. A louder splatter of bullets filled the air from that side as well. The sound of the twin guns was far too familiar for my liking. All this noise was going to draw some unwanted attention.

Trapped between the two of them, I had poor odds. Cutting down what bullets I could, I warped back from the rest to give myself more distance from the assault. Once again, my leg cut out from under me when I dropped to my feet, but it was my right this time. The warmth of my blood seeping into the white uniform showed why. The wound healed just as fast as it appeared, a problem I felt as soon as I tried to press weight back on the leg against another hail of gunfire. I felt as though my leg might shatter under me. The bullet was stuck in my shattered femur.

They reloaded too damn quickly, leaving me no room to breathe. I sent a flurry of summon swords back just to scatter them and give myself time to wrench Yamato into the sealed wound, cleaving the bullet out. Pain - true pain - was new to me again. I hadn't felt it in years, and I couldn't keep the agony from twisting my expression. A cold sweat seared across my skin, and my breaths came quick.

I was so weak.

"Wait!" Kyrie cried, the sound of her heels on the pavement silencing the gunfire. "You'll kill him!" The foolish girl stood between me and the guns. Though I was certain they could have continued firing around her, they paused for her sake.

"Kyrie, that's not Nero anymore," the blonde demon said, her voice as gentle as it was firm. "This is all we can do now." I could recall her, though I didn't care to. She wore my mother's face and carried my father's guns. She had no right to her own name.

Standing across the street, the other one, who looked as though she would never be happy until I was riddled with bullet holes, I knew to be Mary. I'd heard that name enough that I couldn't have forgotten it if I'd wanted to.

They may have been the last two people I would have wanted to face in such a state.

Kyrie's voice faded as though lost to a gale. "What do you mean?"

"Let's postpone this fight," I said as I flicked the blood from Yamato. I sheathed it as well as a show of honesty, but I could have drawn it in an instant. "You don't want the girl in the middle of this."

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere," the demon said. Her sweet tone vanished in favor of a more honest venom.

"Dante might let you off, but you're not getting away from us," Mary snarled.

"What?" Kyrie attempted again. It sounded like they hadn't told her anything, yet they acted as though I was the cruel one.

"Did you two take care of the issue in the forest?" I asked.

"Dealt with a fuck-ton of demons, but I'd say the real issue is still here," Mary said, tilting her gunsights nearer to my head.

"That's a no then." I crossed my arms. "I was having trouble finding the source as well."

"Stop trying to distract us," the demon said. "That's a pretty low tactic for you."

I wasn't trying to distract them. I was trying to get information, but if I were to allow the fight to carry on, Kyrie could get hurt.

Another worry that was not my own. Sighing, I rubbed my hand across my forehead to calm my swirling thoughts. No matter how dormant Nero might have been, I felt certain that everything would fall apart on me if any harm befell the girl.

I may not have owed Nero anything, but at the very least, I would not contribute to him losing anything else he cared about. I would not stand idle and let them fall. Not again.

"So you are set on killing me then?" I asked the women.

Mary nodded without a flicker of hesitation.

"If the only way Nero can be free of this is death, then that's what we'll give him," the demon said.

Kyrie's eyes were wide yet hollowed with fear. "You can't," she said. "No, you can't. You were supposed to get him back. I can't… I can't lose him too."

Neither of them could face her, too busy staring me down, but I saw them both flinch against her words. "Very well," I said. "We'll have this fight to the death at a later time when the girl is not involved. I have something I must attend to first. If you would look after her for a moment…"

They both began demanding that I stay put so they could shoot me or whatever. I wasn't listening, and it was hard to hear around the roar in my ears as I tested the Bringer's power. The distant, ghostly image of the arm came to me as easily as my summon swords and though metal screamed and stone cracked, I felt no strain in tearing a lamp post from the ground and tossing it toward the three of them.

It wouldn't have touched Kyrie, but the women both rushed towards her anyway. Mary was still quick to fire a few more rounds at me, but I warped myself away and headed for the forest.

I could kill them later. I had a job to complete first.

But even as I slipped into the dense trees, I could feel that I wasn't free of trouble yet. Another presence of harsh footfalls crashing through twigs and leaves chased me. He always felt like fire at my back, a blaze I could never truly outrun.

In a way, though, it felt nice to have him follow me once again, even if it wasn't really me he was chasing in the end.