The warm water fails to ground Mizu. Her emotions roil inside her, turbulent and unrelenting. Guilt and pain and sadness well up overwhelming. Mizu holds onto Vergil tightly and doesn't let go. She doesn't want to let go of him, not now, not in the future, not when she leaves. Yet she must. She will. That's always been how they will end. She knows it. He knows it. Damn well, the fox spirit knows it. He holds her tight, and Mizu holds onto him.

She feels his heartbeat against her, and Mizu focuses on the steady beat. It slowly calms her until her breathing feels less ragged. Until she feels more like herself. More at ease. As foolish as it is, it's him. It's Vergil grounding her as he's grounded her so many times before. The thought Vergil will come to hate her or despise her or wish he hadn't known her, once she is gone, continues to come to mind. It may be true, and there's nothing she can do about that. She's been clear about her goals, about her plans, from the very beginning.

Mizu continues to lean against him, and unlike when they spar or make love, she feels small. "I'm sorry," Mizu says softly, "That wasn't your fault."

Vergil deserves better. The least Mizu can do is treat him right while she's here. His feelings and thoughts toward her are wonderful, better than she deserves, but his and his to have. Mizu will not pretend either of them are perfect. Vergil's done terrible things, but he's never done them to her. He's never treated her anything less than well.

"Did you ever plan to stay," Mizu asks, "in Fortuna?"