Mizu has seen and felt how Mirage Edge can be used. For much of it, she would not recommend being on the receiving end, a statement true about any decent sword. She takes those observations, including its use in hand and out, to inspect its form. The longer she has the sword, the more surprised Mizu is still to hold it. So she treats it seriously, a connection of form to function. It may be more enjoyable to wield the blade herself, at least through a series of exercises, but most people are protective of their swords, and Mizu has learned better than to need that. Besides, it's easier to see what decisions were made or how those decisions were manifested this close (this close while not being stabbed). It's never crossed her mind mid-combat to excuse herself with his sword for close inspection.
"Impossible," Mizu repeats, her eyes on the sword but nearly laughing. It hurts too much to laugh. "Arrogance like that will only set the foundation for my victory."
She looks up for a moment, a challenging gleam in her eye. "Some day you will exhaust the supply of surprises you have in store I have not seen yet. Each time you are forced to reveal one, you lose."
It's a quiet, rare sound. Few ever really get to hear it both due to the overall limited amount of company he tends to keep and his own natural demeanor, but Mizu's returned assertion earns quiet chuckle.
"Is that so?" Vergil raises an eyebrow as he reclines back ever so slightly, resting some of his weight back onto a hand. Not that Vergil had his doubts that Mizu had recovered sufficiently in the time allotted for a short nap, some meditation, and a bit of food, but the look in his eyes, that spark of his usual fire tells Vergil that he is certainly recovered well by now. It's good to see even Vergil doesn't know quite how to articulate exactly why it is. He just knows that he goes looking for it every time they clash blades. "So, you must change the parameters of defines a victory in order to secure your success by declaring what's clearly been my victory my loss instead?"
That rare laugh is its own sort of victory, though Mizu could not compare it to one with the sword. She knows Vergil is confident in his skills and abilities. Rightfully so at his level, but Mizu will get there. She will scratch and claw and bite her way better and better until she does defeat him in a way he cannot question.
"It's your actions, your choices, that see them losses. Some supernatural ability you would not otherwise use being forced upon you," Mizu says, "If you did not pride yourself on holding them back, it would be meaningless. I said it was your loss, not my success. It is but a stepping stone which I will use to defeat you."
She hadn't brought multiple grenades today. Would they have done anything to that thick scaled skin that her sword did not? What properties are needed to breach it? Could Vergil have done the same while clearly struggling from internal damage? Mizu cannot claim pleasure at seeing Vergil stagger, injured as he was, but it is useful information, information she might need to win. With all he can do, there's no such thing as fighting fair. There never was.
She runs her fingers slowly across Mirage's Edge, feeling more than she can see with her eyes. This too will help her, not that she needs that reason to get to know it so closely.
Even Vergil has to admit that Mizu's logic is sound. Vergil has been adamant about holding back his true strength during each of their sparring matches. The simple fact of that matter is that it's for Mizu's safety more than anything else. Well, that's the primary reason for it. Secondary to that, the fight would be over before it began if Vergil expended more energy into their fights than he already does, and that serves no purpose to either of them. No doubt it would not dissuade Mizu any, of course, but Vergil would find himself quickly bored of the whole affair. There would be no more fighting between them, and it would be a loss for them both even if Vergil wouldn't necessarily recognize it as such without these previous experiences.
Regardless, Vergil was pushed a little harder today. The cuts and bruises still on his body, one of the latter being so prominent upon his face, are the lingering evidence of that. Even Mizu must have noticed by now that not all of Vergil's wounds have healed or even shown any visible signs of progress towards healing since the end of their latest bout. He supposes that as much as it is a bruising to his own ego, he can understand the pride Mizu takes and why it most certainly feels like an accomplishment. Vergil will never unleash his full strength against him, and that is a fact. But today, Vergil bled and bruised, and if it wasn't for his other form today, there's no telling if he wouldn't have been the one woozy and unable to walk straight for long.
He opts not to lecture or chastise Mizu for the use of his explosives. He doesn't balk or bristle at the feeling of defeat or the beating his own ego takes over it. Nor does he offer any further praise or acknowledgement of skill. Vergil simply lets it be, deciding neither to spoil nor encourage the other swordsman's pride. Mizu could rest well in his knowledge of a job well done today, and hold it close to his chest that for as invulnerable as Vergil is to a human like him, he's capable of pushing past Vergil's defenses and abilities.
"You may try it for yourself," he says instead, nodding at Mirage Edge. He's been watching Mizu touch it and examine it this whole time, but even Vergil is aware that touch and sight can only say so much about a blade. Wielding it is the only way to know its true nature. As Vergil gives his explicit consent, Mirage Edge crackles with just a little more energy. Not enough that it looks entirely as it does when Vergil begins tapping into its power with quick slashes that carry far beyond the initial strike. It's more akin to a blade being removed from its scabbard than that. Except Mirage Edge bears no scabbard, and so the sword somewhat comes alive with power instead.
Vergil knows it won't feel natural to Mizu's hands. The blade isn't at all similar to those Mizu has likely held before beyond just its origins, but also in its design and style. But he's seen enough of what Vergil does with it to likely understand some basic movements with the blade as it is that he can experiment whether through mimicking what he's seen of Vergil or trying something of his own making or knowledge. Vergil gestures with his free hand over towards what ought to be a living area that Vergil has left open for the sake of a training space. "Over there."
There isn't much in Vergil's apartment that could be potentially destroyed with any sort of reckless swinging, but better for Mizu to have more space than necessary than any sort of restrictions all the same.
Vergil says nothing to Mizu's words, something she knows better from personal experience than to take as acceptance. It still feels a victory, steps further down the right path, the path Mizu follows in sparring with Vergil. Honestly, the restriction on not killing each other limits Vergil far more than her. Today was the closest she's come to need to be concerned with it at all, those split moments of sudden doubt. Mizu is free to fight by all means necessary, while Vergil cannot. Yet Mizu doubts that spoils any fun because she too takes only a modicum of enjoyment in defeating men far lesser than her. Usually it's more about destroying their pride and egos, after their acts of superiority to her, than anything to do with the physical feat.
Even as thoughts and memories of Shindo dojo come to her, Mizu knows Vergil does not look at her the way she looked at those swordsmen, at all those swordsmen except Taigen. (Presumably the master of the dojo could equally be a challenge if he has not grown soft, but it would take far more for him to deem to fight her, and she did not need that from him). He never would have handed over his blade, never would have... she doesn't know, so much of what they've done, if he thought of her that way. His opinion of her won't change her opinion of herself, mind, but she would be disappointed, yes disappointed, to lose his company in sparring.
Instead he offers the use of his sword. Mizu's head shoots up, and she stares openly at him, mouth dropping open a little. After a moment or so for it to sink in as a serious offer (it's Vergil, it wouldn't be like him to joke about something so serious and personal), she pushes the covers further back, unfolds, and steps out of the bed onto the floor. Her foot is much better than before, and this opportunity makes her more grateful for it than she would be otherwise. What is limping around for a while compared to getting to take Mirage Edge through its paces?
"Yes," Mizu inhales, excited.
Mizu moves to the center of the training space, takes a deep breath, and despite the pain across her ribs and continued soreness in her arm takes up Vergil's ready position, the one he usually takes with Mirage Edge. Mizu pauses and adjusts her position to make it more correct in small details. Then she works through a series of basic moves Vergil regularly uses. She stops when she needs to in order to correct the technique. It's not her usual way of moving, but this has always been how she's learned. Observing and copying others. Mizu repeats herself over and over. Each movement focused on having the correct technique more than power or speed. That can come with time and experience.
Silly perhaps, but everything else falls away. The lingering pain. The enjoyable argument with Vergil. All of it, compared to a man and a sword and copying techniques. They will not work with her sword as she has, but the fox spirit offers different weapons at different times. This work, this from the inside out, is Vergil.
Vergil suppresses a smile at Mizu's reaction to being given permission to practice with Mirage Edge. The disbelief and immediate enthusiasm is almost childlike in its earnestness and the quiet anxiety that Vergil might be joking or about to change his mind and rob him of the experience if he's not quick to take Vergil up on it. Whatever years of isolation and heartache and hardship Mizu has experienced seems to slough off him in an instant at the opportunity. He watches Mizu rise from the bed and quickly pad over to the training area to begin.
Whatever jest or teasing remark Vergil might have conjured up as Mizu begins to work through the movements that he's seen time and again from Vergil quiets long before it can reach his lips. Watching from where he's seated near the foot of his bed, Vergil is quietly impressed. For one who accused Vergil of cheating in his innate ability to understand a weapon by mere touch, Mizu is not too far off that mark himself. He's been on the receiving end of Vergil's techniques a few times now, and he moves carefully through each set of moves. Without Vergil needing to say a word, he spots his own mistakes quickly. He pauses. Corrects. Finishes. Tries again. Each repetition carries the intent of perfecting it. There is nothing else beyond Mizu and Mirage Edge, following each step that he can of Vergil's repertoire. He'd anticipated that it wouldn't be a series of undisciplined, wild swings or some dull experimentation with the balance and weight, but Vergil hadn't expected this.
It's not exactly atypical for Vergil to have nothing to say. He's always been quiet and more reserved than most, leaving others to often wonder and speculate what it is going through his mind. But now isn't a moment of Vergil's typical silence so much as it is speechlessness because he wants to say something. Anything about Mizu's dedication and attention to detail to immediately recognize his own mistakes. The grace of his movements even while still recovering from injuries and no doubt experience his own degree of soreness. Vergil uncrosses his legs so that both feet now rest on the floor, sitting up straighter with his hands in his lap as words come to him.
To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour
They are not his own words and he does not speak them. But they and their meaning settle with each pulse of Vergil's heart because it's true. There is something inherently magnificent and greater than it seems about something as mundane as Mizu running through Vergil's movements and attempting to perfect them in his replication. Something that Vergil would not likely have been able to see or understand years ago, but he can come to appreciate now.
Vergil purses his lips slightly and almost wishes they were still outside with more space. Mizu wouldn't be able to control the other things that Mirage Edge can do beyond that of a typical blade. Mirage Edge isn't a fully realized Devil Arm wherein its wielder can access the full extent of its power like that if it accepts them as its master, but Vergil would still be able to exert his will over it. It would be interesting to see if they could work so in tandem with one another like that. He itches for more, wanting to summon his clone once more to give Mizu something to practice against or hell, to spar with Mizu again himself for another exhilarating bout.
But he makes no more suggestion than he does pay a compliment. It's greedy and selfish to want more right now with the state Mizu is in. His wounds may be closed, but he's lost a significant amount of blood and he's still not yet in his peak condition once more. Pushing him past his limits and encouraging that sort of behavior would likely only lead to disaster. Perhaps not today, but eventually. Vergil glances away to look outside the balcony, drawing an intentionally slow breath and releasing it before looking at Mizu again. This is enough, he tells himself. It is enough that Mizu practices as he does now, working with the strength and skill that he now possesses.
Small sounds of focus come with the movements, with each correction. Where Mizu must correct herself more than twice, a small huff of frustration with herself, no matter the unfamiliarity of the sword or movements to what she usually does. She's seen them and felt them more than enough times to copy them. She learned to copy techniques from a single demonstration—having to work through the mistakes for herself and discover the proper form by feel and memory—so the abundance of examples from Vergil should make it far easier, along with the years of experience. That frustration melts away, however, each time she gets something right.
It's the start of properly learning both this kind of sword, in so much as Mirage Edge represents a sword made of steel in the same shape, and the techniques. Mizu hardly expects to wield Mirage Edge in sparring, much less actual fighting where her life is on the line. That doesn't matter. Learning it is in and of itself a reward. It demonstrates so much more about the sword and the way Vergil uses it. Feeling her muscles go through the movement with the right sword teaches her a great deal. Mizu could readily go through it for hours with no thought to any other considerations (it is not as though Mizu ever has plans for the rest of the day, when she spars Vergil, this being the first time she heals at all the day of).
She moves into small combinations Vergil frequently uses. It takes up more of the space at a time, but there is plenty. Mizu remains aware enough to know she won't hit anything. That's all she needs. Focused as she is, Mizu enjoys herself immensely. It carries on she's not sure how long, but her body in time shows its limits. There's some soreness, but she also feels somewhat woozy. Those aren't things that concern her terribly, save that her technique, carefully practiced, starts to slip and need more corrections. That simply won't do. Mizu will not compromise her body's learning of the moves. With some regret it's already over (already? after how long?), Mizu lowers Mirage Edge.
She walks smoothly, by force of will, back toward Vergil on the bed, bows with the sword resting across both her hands, and offers it back. Once he takes it, Mizu returns to the other end of the bed and sits. Before she practiced with Mirage Edge, she was ready to go home under her own power. For a short bit, she needs another break. That's all. It will be short before she's ready again. She's no invalid.
"Mirage Edge is incredible," Mizu says. Her face would be flush had she more blood in her body. Instead, her breathing is harder. It doesn't matter. She's lit up from within. "Very different from what I'm used to. I'd have to make a hundred terrible swords like it to finally make one of that shape and balance properly. It still wouldn't be Mirage Edge." She knows it's not steel the way her swords are.
When Mizu's technique begins to gradually slip more and more, Vergil half-expects that he will need to intervene and tell Mizu that he's practiced and experimented long enough. Thus, it comes as more of a surprise when Mizu actually brings it to an end before there can be too much sway or wobbling in his movements. Vergil still watches carefully as Mizu returns to the bed, watching for signs that he might not quite make it there after that exertion. But Mizu is steady on his feet, and he bows while returning Vergil his blade without any threats of tipping over. Even when he sits back down on the bed itself, it isn't the collapse that occurred before. Mirage Edge dissipates once more in wisps of blue smoke that disappear quickly as Vergil lowers his hands back to his lap. He supposes after a moment of recuperating from all that motion and activity, Mizu will likely take his leave then if he's recovered that much.
Vergil isn't sad or disappointed about the fact Mizu will take his leave, and return to his home in Wintermute, but Vergil can't say he's...minded this extra time with Mizu either. It hasn't been unpleasant.
"Drink," he says, nodding to Mizu's glass and the pitcher still on the nightstand. It will help with his breathing, forcing him to slow it back down to something gentler, and continue re-hydrating him after the day's activities. Vergil doesn't leave Mizu's words without a response though. Prompting him to care to his physical needs merely took some priority. "You seemed to take to it quickly. For as different as it is to you. You've been keeping a close eye on how I wield it."
Which perhaps goes without saying, Vergil finds impressive. It's one thing to watch Vergil's swordplay alone and be able to replicate it well. It's another to watch it when it's being used against Mizu and replicate it well. He was attentive to his footwork, where his hands ought to be with each movement, and how he should be angled toward and imaginary opponent. Even with Vergil's natural abilities and his own discipline, he couldn't claim to be able to do the same in return.
Mizu waves a hand at Vergil when he insists she drink water. Yes, yes, water. She knows. She would have gotten there on her own in time, if he'd provide a modicum of patience. Still, she drains the glass quickly and pours herself some more. It would be easier to be flat, lying down, than vertical for the lightheadedness, but Mizu doesn't mean to monopolize Vergil's bed all day. Nor his time. She doesn't mind however much time they spend together on a sparring day. Together or apart, she sets aside a whole day for it, so there's nothing else, no other demands on her time. The library and the forge can wait.
Her breathing is a little better, and Mizu grins tiredly at Vergil for the compliment. A small nod. It is often easy in Japan to identify the school a swordsman trained in and know what techniques he will use. Those fights take little effort as she uses the techniques that best counter that style, and that is all. It takes a particularly skilled fighter and/or an unfamiliar one to demand that much of her. But oh, what fun it is to learn by fighting someone.
"I mean to defeat you," Mizu says, "I must know how to predict what you do, down to every detail, so I can more effectively create and utilize openings and advantages. It is even better practicing with Mirage Edge to understand the movements. Not as easy to incorporate for use with my sword, but can't have things be too easy. That'd be boring."
There's few people she's meant to defeat she gets along with well, none she's explained that she's doing that. Then again, no one's been interested in or paid attention to the fact she does it.
"You've seen only a sliver of the styles I know. So many of them are useless to outright foolish against you."
Some would think it foolish to challenge him at all, Vergil thinks but gives no voice to it. Even if he were less talented or skilled with a blade, Vergil's raw strength and speed outclasses Mizu entirely. Most wouldn't likely even bother trying, and they would be quick to yield the moment the tide turned in Vergil's favor. But not Mizu. Mizu pushes forward and pushes himself hard to stay on his feet and in the fight for as long as he can manage, and it's Vergil that has to bring the fight to its end.
Instead, Vergil hums thoughtfully.
"You're beginning to sound like Dante," he says. "But I would hazard there's more truth to your words than his."
Dante and Vergil have fought one another more times than either of them could possibly count. So, Vergil could never reasonably claim that Dante knows nothing of his mind or what he might do when they fight one another. They both know each other well after all these years and conflicts between them. But Vergil would struggle to believe Dante is nearly as consciously thoughtful about it as Mizu is in navigating his knowledge of Vergil. He doesn't read Vergil as an open book as he claims. Dante moves on instinct, quick to react and change his approach if necessary, but it's never a carefully selected decision to counter what Vergil does. He doesn't intentionally bait Vergil into creating vulnerabilities that he can exploit. He's just as wild and unpredictable as Vergil is calculating and controlled. Fighting Dante is akin to taming the wind in that regard. He does as he wills for better or for worse, and perhaps that's why there's always been a part of Vergil that's enjoyed their bouts with one another. There is something of merit there with Dante's approach even if Vergil would be loath to acknowledge as much, and he knows he's doing well when he's able to defeat someone as unpredictable as Dante.
"You would find his approach more difficult to memorize than mine. He has good instinct, but that's the trouble with trying to predict what he will do."
Mizu wonders what Dante says that sounds similar and whether or not she would agree with it—or believe it. Vergil expresses some doubt, and Mizu trusts Vergil's ability to assess his own opponents. It might not be exactly true, whatever Dante says. Should he arrive, Mizu will assess his words for herself, same as she does everyone. She wouldn't take Vergil's word with blind faith.
Her smile doesn't go away. Instead it lops to one side. "I welcome Dante to arrive. I will defeat him as well, should he be willing to fight, and enjoy the process along the way. I never tire of getting better, and an unpredictable opponent forces other skills to improve."
By the time she defeats one, much less both, of them, Mizu's fathers shouldn't stand a chance. That alone would make her smile were she not already smiling. It is strange to feel so happy. The anger remains, as ever, but it isn't forefront as usual. Mizu stretches and checks how she feels. Not the best, but she can walk.
He shakes his head a little at the expression of gratitude, finding it unnecessary.
"I think you'd agree better this than the alternative of someone else finding you and making a scene over it." No doubt another Star Child would be sent into a panic to find him as bloody of a mess as he was passed out near the train station. Assuming he even made it that far, of course. Vergil isn't unconvinced that he wouldn't have made it more than a few steps before his legs gave out on him from the loss of blood alone. So, if he thinks Vergil is insistent and a pest when it comes to taking care of himself after their fights, he would be in for quite the rude awakening if anyone else with less familiarity with him were to find him. At least Vergil's willing to offer a modicum of trust in Mizu that when he says he will be fine, he's able to believe it. "I hope we can..."
He almost says see one another again, but it feels immediately foolish and causes him to stay his tongue. To Vergil, it's a childish thing to say even if he does enjoy Mizu's company and there is perhaps something here that could be considered a comradery of sorts. Besides, Mizu's focus is on his own goals and his own aims. Not to say that he hasn't been willing to lend Vergil a bit of a hand now and again or that he's been opposed to any time they spend outside of what directly links to those goals, but only a fool would entirely ignoring Mizu's motivations. And Vergil would do well to remember that, he thinks. Lest he get ahead of himself and make a less safe assumption that leads to a tension or fracture in things. He would hate to lose Mizu's company because he chose to be overzealous.
Vergil looks away for a brief moment before he corrects himself, "I hope we can spar again soon."
The sentiment is no less sincere even if it wasn't entirely what he intended to say at first.
Mizu gives an exasperated sigh at that idea. "I do not understand that attitude," Mizu says, "It's entirely different from my time in Japan. There, a woman and child might sit outside in the freezing snow, and no one will do a thing. A person can collapse injured and unconscious, and people will avoid whatever blood or organs they spill."
Mizu nearly died once because no one would give her aid, especially not someone like her. If she hadn't found her mother— If she hadn't found the woman who first raised her, she would have died. She was a fool then, the way she got that injury. Mizu has learned better. Ah well, Mizu would not let anyone accost her terribly. At worst, she would invoke they take her to Amrita Academy, what passes as the most intensive medical care. Then, once they left, she would take her leave. That would be that.
More water before she leaves, the best no one gets the wrong idea about her ability to walk herself home. She hears the pause in Vergil's words and makes no move to leave while he chooses them. Mizu waits. Then she gives Vergil a weird look. With this healing ability, it will be soon. "We could probably spar again in a few days. Incredibly, needing to spend time at the library may become a larger impediment than anything else. I cannot count on research time on days we spar."
He briefly wonders if he's said something wrong at the way Mizu's expression shifts. Not that he had expectations for how Mizu would respond or react, but a strange look wasn't really accounted for and usually doesn't signal the correct thing has been said. However, before Vergil can begin kicking himself for fumbling with his words, Mizu indicates that it may only be a few days before they can do it again. He doesn't release the tension that crept into his shoulders though, uncomfortably folding his arms once more. That feeling of having said something wrong still eats at him, but he pushes it aside for now rather than dwelling upon it.
"You could bring books with you," he suggests. "It would give you something to do without exerting yourself too soon."
Mizu is clearly too stubborn to fully and completely rest as he probably should even with his healing ability. The fact that he was willing to lay down and sleep at all today, and the simple fact he's still seated now after a bit of minor exertion is nothing short of a miracle. But perhaps he would be less eager to bolt before he had enough immediate recovery to manage independently if he felt like the time at rest wasn't such a waste.
"We also do not always have to spar like this either. You said as much yourself that there are other ways for you to improve than merely fighting me. You also previously assured me before you'd improve your hand-to-hand. Neither time with Mirage Edge nor hand-to-hand ought to leave you unable to make use of the rest of your day."
Bringing books with her would undoubtedly extend the time she and Vergil spend together, if not paying much attention to each other, after sparring. Perhaps Vergil still wants more assurance she is not about to keel over and only tolerates her insistence she is well enough on her own. Bringing books or some other means to occupy herself would free him up to do as he pleases, and he does like books, while permitting him to keep an eye on her and assure himself the fragile human is not about to expire. That earns a rise in her mood, but it does not have time to express itself.
Time with Mirage Edge.
That simple phrase amid the conversation about alternative sparring options sends her heart racing through her chest. She will get to wield it again? His sword. Not his primary sword, no, but his sword, a sword he made. The sense of responsibility to keep watch or the desire to face a better opponent are not enough to explain such a great allowance with something so personal. Mizu has no idea what has moved Vergil to such lengths, but she dare not ask, lest that prompt him to remove his offer, his permission.
Mizu makes note to work on forging blades like Mirage Edge for practice. She can always reforge the same steel time and again. There are not enough Star Children for her to master it. She could give each a blade of questionable quality and still not have one that meets her standards. Her standards are high, higher than some people's yes, but best she make one she likes. There will be more time spent forging in her future. Oh right, conversation.
"I am improving my hand-to-hand. I'd planned to reach a certain level, but," Mizu shrugs. She can handle losing, much as she isn't used to losing while grappling, even against larger opponents. "We can always practice before then. And Mirage Edge..." There's nowhere to look to see the blade, disappeared as it is. "It would be a pleasure." An absolutely heartfelt sentiment.
She smirks. "I assure you that I have never relied solely upon fighting you to improve my skills. I set aside time daily to train. I never want my skills to rust."
Being in Folkmore doesn't appear to have lessened Mizu's desire for revenge in any meaningful way. Perhaps it is delaying it a bit in terms of direct action, but that delay does not mean much to Mizu. He's eager, but he's willing to demonstrate some patience and take advantage of the time he has here to study, learn, and train. Vergil wonders if the same would be true if he hadn't come here, but he doesn't think so. If there was a genuine barrier to Mizu pursuing his quarry, he'd seek the path forward while maintaining his skills. Obstacles could never likely dissuade something that seems to be so deeply embedded into the fabric of Mizu's being that it pulses through him with every beating of his heart.
"You would be boring if otherwise were true." It would be too stagnant in fighting Mizu again and again if there weren't signs of improvement each time, if Mizu didn't push him in his own way. "I can assure you that it's not a reflection of your skills or strength, so I don't mean it as an insult, but it's actually more difficult for me to hold back than anything else when we fight. Outside of fights and sparring as a child with Dante, every fight for me has been to the death."
He hums in light amusement as he looks away from Mizu again. In the grand scheme of his life, most were no contest. He dispatched his foes quickly and easily, usually with a single strike of Yamato. A few, however, Vergil's life was on the line, too, not just his opponent's life. There was no room for mistakes or easing up at any point during those battles, and Vergil had to use every ounce of his strength and power to see them through to the end.
"You're not the same. Each time we've fought, you've grown even if it's just a little. It keeps it...interesting. I have to rely on more than just my power alone, and the more you improve, the more I must think." He looks back at Mizu again, considering the other man for a moment before he smiles faintly and looks back outside the balcony. "I suppose in a strange sense, I almost want to see you defeat me in battle someday. For a human to have worked so hard and honed his skills so much to accomplish something like that, I would think of that as something remarkable, not shameful."
Vergil still views it as an impossible feat. As he said, he's holding back a great deal in each fight with Mizu to avoid putting an end to their sparring too early or to bring about irrevocable harm to Mizu. Even as Mizu grows and Vergil happens to find himself needing to access more of his power to maintain his victory over the other swordsman, there is still a great wealth of it not yet tapped into. It's unlikely Mizu will ever go that far as a human to result in Vergil approaching their sparring with his all. But he would not rob Mizu of the accomplishment if it were to happen. Bruised as Vergil's ego would be in the moment for losing, another part of him wouldn't see it as a shameful defeat and would be able to recognize all that Mizu would have had to do to get to that point.
"That being said, if your plan next time is more explosives, I would advise you to reconsider." He glances at Mizu out of the corner of his eye. "You reveal things as well each time we fight, Mizu, and you would do well to remember that."
He's mostly teasing, but there's also an undercurrent to which he is being sincere, too. Mizu won't be able to pull something like the stunt he pulled today again. Vergil will be prepared for it next time.
"I did not have anyone to spar with growing up, so most of my fights have been to the death," Mizu says. It's something that they have in common. "I chose to use a bokken when I fought my way through the Shindo Dojo because I needed information from its master. The students were only between me and my goal by happenstance, not by choice to serve one of my fathers." A pause. "Plus, the master would have been less inclined to give me the information I needed if I slaughtered all of his students. Better to injure and maim."
No doubt some of those men would have been fine killing her, but they were not threats. Taigen was her most worthy opponent, and still she won. There have been similar circumstances when she's chosen not to kill. The hunt for information and the hunt for her fathers are not the same. A reputation as such a killer would impede her, not help her. Mizu is not the Four Fangs. She has no desire to be.
Vergil is much harder to kill than most men, so Mizu hasn't had to hold back the way she knows he is. After all, he could have been in that warmer form with thus far impenetrable scales the whole time. Instead, he usually works to avoid, block, or parry her attacks. When she manages to injure him, he heals quickly, so it doesn't limit him for long in their fights. Except for the explosion today. Mizu had bet he could survive it, and she was right. That said, she can still see the evidence of what it cost him today. Today. Mizu believes Vergil will be better prepared for it in the future. She still smiles at his words. "You would be boring if otherwise were true," she repeats back at him. "I will not promise the presence or absence of explosives. Though I remember our promise not to kill each other. The last opponent I used an explosive on, I stuck it in his neck. I deemed that too likely to kill you if successfully carried out."
She's mostly teasing, but Mizu cannot forget those moments when she thought she was wrong and that she'd gone too far. When Vergil's double disappeared, and she was left alone in the street unsure whether he were alive or dead. It may be much rarer for her to need to hold back on her attacks, but as determined as she is, as ferociously as she fights, Mizu never forgets her aim is not to kill him. He is not her enemy.
"Don't worry. You'll get to see something that remarkable one day. I'll make sure of it."
Even if they could have some form of appreciation for Mizu's restraint, most would probably be horrified at the notion that they just narrowly avoided having their heads blown from their necks because Mizu happened to have thought it through in the moment. Vergil holds no such horror. He's asked for Mizu to give it his all during their fights, only holding back from exerting a lethal force. Such considerations should cross Mizu's mind if he has any chance of forcing Vergil to genuinely yield. So, at the mention of it rather than looking at Mizu with disdain or anger over the matter, Vergil merely rolls his eyes.
Honestly, he thinks if Mizu's temperament were different, he'd likely prefer the company of Dante over Vergil if he has the mind for such stunts as that. Then again, Vergil is of his own temperament and he... Well, he minds his brother a lot, but he can't truthfully say he dislikes his brother's company. But Dante is not here. It is Vergil alone. So, Mizu doesn't really get his pick as it were.
"Time will tell one way or another," he says, agreeing as far as he's willing to possibly agree to the notion that Mizu will ever best him.
Vergil wouldn't say that he's sad or disappointed by the time Mizu eventually leaves. They fought well today and the conversation afterward didn't feel like such an uncertain mess afterward as some of their others had in the past. If anything it was...nice. Pleasant even when occasionally coupled with less pleasant memories and thoughts. Easier than expected.
He doesn't offer to walk Mizu to the train station, having felt he infringed upon the other swordsman's dignity enough by carrying him to the apartment in the first place. Thus, he only walks him to the door out of politeness rather than concern, but he does linger by his door for a few moments longer after the door is closed behind Mizu. The half-devil listens to Mizu's footfalls to be certain they remain steady in gait and pace, satisfied before Mizu can even leave his earshot. Vergil steps away then to attend to the dishes he'd neglected in favor of Mizu's company. As he walks from the front door to the kitchen, he glances into his training area. He remains fastidious and focused as always as he cleans the dishes and eventually changing out the sheets on his bed, but his mind drifts easily again and again to Mizu wielding Mirage Edge.
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"Impossible," Mizu repeats, her eyes on the sword but nearly laughing. It hurts too much to laugh. "Arrogance like that will only set the foundation for my victory."
She looks up for a moment, a challenging gleam in her eye. "Some day you will exhaust the supply of surprises you have in store I have not seen yet. Each time you are forced to reveal one, you lose."
Sorry, humility is not among Mizu's skills.
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"Is that so?" Vergil raises an eyebrow as he reclines back ever so slightly, resting some of his weight back onto a hand. Not that Vergil had his doubts that Mizu had recovered sufficiently in the time allotted for a short nap, some meditation, and a bit of food, but the look in his eyes, that spark of his usual fire tells Vergil that he is certainly recovered well by now. It's good to see even Vergil doesn't know quite how to articulate exactly why it is. He just knows that he goes looking for it every time they clash blades. "So, you must change the parameters of defines a victory in order to secure your success by declaring what's clearly been my victory my loss instead?"
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"It's your actions, your choices, that see them losses. Some supernatural ability you would not otherwise use being forced upon you," Mizu says, "If you did not pride yourself on holding them back, it would be meaningless. I said it was your loss, not my success. It is but a stepping stone which I will use to defeat you."
She hadn't brought multiple grenades today. Would they have done anything to that thick scaled skin that her sword did not? What properties are needed to breach it? Could Vergil have done the same while clearly struggling from internal damage? Mizu cannot claim pleasure at seeing Vergil stagger, injured as he was, but it is useful information, information she might need to win. With all he can do, there's no such thing as fighting fair. There never was.
She runs her fingers slowly across Mirage's Edge, feeling more than she can see with her eyes. This too will help her, not that she needs that reason to get to know it so closely.
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Regardless, Vergil was pushed a little harder today. The cuts and bruises still on his body, one of the latter being so prominent upon his face, are the lingering evidence of that. Even Mizu must have noticed by now that not all of Vergil's wounds have healed or even shown any visible signs of progress towards healing since the end of their latest bout. He supposes that as much as it is a bruising to his own ego, he can understand the pride Mizu takes and why it most certainly feels like an accomplishment. Vergil will never unleash his full strength against him, and that is a fact. But today, Vergil bled and bruised, and if it wasn't for his other form today, there's no telling if he wouldn't have been the one woozy and unable to walk straight for long.
He opts not to lecture or chastise Mizu for the use of his explosives. He doesn't balk or bristle at the feeling of defeat or the beating his own ego takes over it. Nor does he offer any further praise or acknowledgement of skill. Vergil simply lets it be, deciding neither to spoil nor encourage the other swordsman's pride. Mizu could rest well in his knowledge of a job well done today, and hold it close to his chest that for as invulnerable as Vergil is to a human like him, he's capable of pushing past Vergil's defenses and abilities.
"You may try it for yourself," he says instead, nodding at Mirage Edge. He's been watching Mizu touch it and examine it this whole time, but even Vergil is aware that touch and sight can only say so much about a blade. Wielding it is the only way to know its true nature. As Vergil gives his explicit consent, Mirage Edge crackles with just a little more energy. Not enough that it looks entirely as it does when Vergil begins tapping into its power with quick slashes that carry far beyond the initial strike. It's more akin to a blade being removed from its scabbard than that. Except Mirage Edge bears no scabbard, and so the sword somewhat comes alive with power instead.
Vergil knows it won't feel natural to Mizu's hands. The blade isn't at all similar to those Mizu has likely held before beyond just its origins, but also in its design and style. But he's seen enough of what Vergil does with it to likely understand some basic movements with the blade as it is that he can experiment whether through mimicking what he's seen of Vergil or trying something of his own making or knowledge. Vergil gestures with his free hand over towards what ought to be a living area that Vergil has left open for the sake of a training space. "Over there."
There isn't much in Vergil's apartment that could be potentially destroyed with any sort of reckless swinging, but better for Mizu to have more space than necessary than any sort of restrictions all the same.
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Even as thoughts and memories of Shindo dojo come to her, Mizu knows Vergil does not look at her the way she looked at those swordsmen, at all those swordsmen except Taigen. (Presumably the master of the dojo could equally be a challenge if he has not grown soft, but it would take far more for him to deem to fight her, and she did not need that from him). He never would have handed over his blade, never would have... she doesn't know, so much of what they've done, if he thought of her that way. His opinion of her won't change her opinion of herself, mind, but she would be disappointed, yes disappointed, to lose his company in sparring.
Instead he offers the use of his sword. Mizu's head shoots up, and she stares openly at him, mouth dropping open a little. After a moment or so for it to sink in as a serious offer (it's Vergil, it wouldn't be like him to joke about something so serious and personal), she pushes the covers further back, unfolds, and steps out of the bed onto the floor. Her foot is much better than before, and this opportunity makes her more grateful for it than she would be otherwise. What is limping around for a while compared to getting to take Mirage Edge through its paces?
"Yes," Mizu inhales, excited.
Mizu moves to the center of the training space, takes a deep breath, and despite the pain across her ribs and continued soreness in her arm takes up Vergil's ready position, the one he usually takes with Mirage Edge. Mizu pauses and adjusts her position to make it more correct in small details. Then she works through a series of basic moves Vergil regularly uses. She stops when she needs to in order to correct the technique. It's not her usual way of moving, but this has always been how she's learned. Observing and copying others. Mizu repeats herself over and over. Each movement focused on having the correct technique more than power or speed. That can come with time and experience.
Silly perhaps, but everything else falls away. The lingering pain. The enjoyable argument with Vergil. All of it, compared to a man and a sword and copying techniques. They will not work with her sword as she has, but the fox spirit offers different weapons at different times. This work, this from the inside out, is Vergil.
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Whatever jest or teasing remark Vergil might have conjured up as Mizu begins to work through the movements that he's seen time and again from Vergil quiets long before it can reach his lips. Watching from where he's seated near the foot of his bed, Vergil is quietly impressed. For one who accused Vergil of cheating in his innate ability to understand a weapon by mere touch, Mizu is not too far off that mark himself. He's been on the receiving end of Vergil's techniques a few times now, and he moves carefully through each set of moves. Without Vergil needing to say a word, he spots his own mistakes quickly. He pauses. Corrects. Finishes. Tries again. Each repetition carries the intent of perfecting it. There is nothing else beyond Mizu and Mirage Edge, following each step that he can of Vergil's repertoire. He'd anticipated that it wouldn't be a series of undisciplined, wild swings or some dull experimentation with the balance and weight, but Vergil hadn't expected this.
It's not exactly atypical for Vergil to have nothing to say. He's always been quiet and more reserved than most, leaving others to often wonder and speculate what it is going through his mind. But now isn't a moment of Vergil's typical silence so much as it is speechlessness because he wants to say something. Anything about Mizu's dedication and attention to detail to immediately recognize his own mistakes. The grace of his movements even while still recovering from injuries and no doubt experience his own degree of soreness. Vergil uncrosses his legs so that both feet now rest on the floor, sitting up straighter with his hands in his lap as words come to him.
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
They are not his own words and he does not speak them. But they and their meaning settle with each pulse of Vergil's heart because it's true. There is something inherently magnificent and greater than it seems about something as mundane as Mizu running through Vergil's movements and attempting to perfect them in his replication. Something that Vergil would not likely have been able to see or understand years ago, but he can come to appreciate now.
Vergil purses his lips slightly and almost wishes they were still outside with more space. Mizu wouldn't be able to control the other things that Mirage Edge can do beyond that of a typical blade. Mirage Edge isn't a fully realized Devil Arm wherein its wielder can access the full extent of its power like that if it accepts them as its master, but Vergil would still be able to exert his will over it. It would be interesting to see if they could work so in tandem with one another like that. He itches for more, wanting to summon his clone once more to give Mizu something to practice against or hell, to spar with Mizu again himself for another exhilarating bout.
But he makes no more suggestion than he does pay a compliment. It's greedy and selfish to want more right now with the state Mizu is in. His wounds may be closed, but he's lost a significant amount of blood and he's still not yet in his peak condition once more. Pushing him past his limits and encouraging that sort of behavior would likely only lead to disaster. Perhaps not today, but eventually. Vergil glances away to look outside the balcony, drawing an intentionally slow breath and releasing it before looking at Mizu again. This is enough, he tells himself. It is enough that Mizu practices as he does now, working with the strength and skill that he now possesses.
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It's the start of properly learning both this kind of sword, in so much as Mirage Edge represents a sword made of steel in the same shape, and the techniques. Mizu hardly expects to wield Mirage Edge in sparring, much less actual fighting where her life is on the line. That doesn't matter. Learning it is in and of itself a reward. It demonstrates so much more about the sword and the way Vergil uses it. Feeling her muscles go through the movement with the right sword teaches her a great deal. Mizu could readily go through it for hours with no thought to any other considerations (it is not as though Mizu ever has plans for the rest of the day, when she spars Vergil, this being the first time she heals at all the day of).
She moves into small combinations Vergil frequently uses. It takes up more of the space at a time, but there is plenty. Mizu remains aware enough to know she won't hit anything. That's all she needs. Focused as she is, Mizu enjoys herself immensely. It carries on she's not sure how long, but her body in time shows its limits. There's some soreness, but she also feels somewhat woozy. Those aren't things that concern her terribly, save that her technique, carefully practiced, starts to slip and need more corrections. That simply won't do. Mizu will not compromise her body's learning of the moves. With some regret it's already over (already? after how long?), Mizu lowers Mirage Edge.
She walks smoothly, by force of will, back toward Vergil on the bed, bows with the sword resting across both her hands, and offers it back. Once he takes it, Mizu returns to the other end of the bed and sits. Before she practiced with Mirage Edge, she was ready to go home under her own power. For a short bit, she needs another break. That's all. It will be short before she's ready again. She's no invalid.
"Mirage Edge is incredible," Mizu says. Her face would be flush had she more blood in her body. Instead, her breathing is harder. It doesn't matter. She's lit up from within. "Very different from what I'm used to. I'd have to make a hundred terrible swords like it to finally make one of that shape and balance properly. It still wouldn't be Mirage Edge." She knows it's not steel the way her swords are.
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Vergil isn't sad or disappointed about the fact Mizu will take his leave, and return to his home in Wintermute, but Vergil can't say he's...minded this extra time with Mizu either. It hasn't been unpleasant.
"Drink," he says, nodding to Mizu's glass and the pitcher still on the nightstand. It will help with his breathing, forcing him to slow it back down to something gentler, and continue re-hydrating him after the day's activities. Vergil doesn't leave Mizu's words without a response though. Prompting him to care to his physical needs merely took some priority. "You seemed to take to it quickly. For as different as it is to you. You've been keeping a close eye on how I wield it."
Which perhaps goes without saying, Vergil finds impressive. It's one thing to watch Vergil's swordplay alone and be able to replicate it well. It's another to watch it when it's being used against Mizu and replicate it well. He was attentive to his footwork, where his hands ought to be with each movement, and how he should be angled toward and imaginary opponent. Even with Vergil's natural abilities and his own discipline, he couldn't claim to be able to do the same in return.
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Her breathing is a little better, and Mizu grins tiredly at Vergil for the compliment. A small nod. It is often easy in Japan to identify the school a swordsman trained in and know what techniques he will use. Those fights take little effort as she uses the techniques that best counter that style, and that is all. It takes a particularly skilled fighter and/or an unfamiliar one to demand that much of her. But oh, what fun it is to learn by fighting someone.
"I mean to defeat you," Mizu says, "I must know how to predict what you do, down to every detail, so I can more effectively create and utilize openings and advantages. It is even better practicing with Mirage Edge to understand the movements. Not as easy to incorporate for use with my sword, but can't have things be too easy. That'd be boring."
There's few people she's meant to defeat she gets along with well, none she's explained that she's doing that. Then again, no one's been interested in or paid attention to the fact she does it.
"You've seen only a sliver of the styles I know. So many of them are useless to outright foolish against you."
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Instead, Vergil hums thoughtfully.
"You're beginning to sound like Dante," he says. "But I would hazard there's more truth to your words than his."
Dante and Vergil have fought one another more times than either of them could possibly count. So, Vergil could never reasonably claim that Dante knows nothing of his mind or what he might do when they fight one another. They both know each other well after all these years and conflicts between them. But Vergil would struggle to believe Dante is nearly as consciously thoughtful about it as Mizu is in navigating his knowledge of Vergil. He doesn't read Vergil as an open book as he claims. Dante moves on instinct, quick to react and change his approach if necessary, but it's never a carefully selected decision to counter what Vergil does. He doesn't intentionally bait Vergil into creating vulnerabilities that he can exploit. He's just as wild and unpredictable as Vergil is calculating and controlled. Fighting Dante is akin to taming the wind in that regard. He does as he wills for better or for worse, and perhaps that's why there's always been a part of Vergil that's enjoyed their bouts with one another. There is something of merit there with Dante's approach even if Vergil would be loath to acknowledge as much, and he knows he's doing well when he's able to defeat someone as unpredictable as Dante.
"You would find his approach more difficult to memorize than mine. He has good instinct, but that's the trouble with trying to predict what he will do."
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Her smile doesn't go away. Instead it lops to one side. "I welcome Dante to arrive. I will defeat him as well, should he be willing to fight, and enjoy the process along the way. I never tire of getting better, and an unpredictable opponent forces other skills to improve."
By the time she defeats one, much less both, of them, Mizu's fathers shouldn't stand a chance. That alone would make her smile were she not already smiling. It is strange to feel so happy. The anger remains, as ever, but it isn't forefront as usual. Mizu stretches and checks how she feels. Not the best, but she can walk.
"Thank you for... all of this."
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"I think you'd agree better this than the alternative of someone else finding you and making a scene over it." No doubt another Star Child would be sent into a panic to find him as bloody of a mess as he was passed out near the train station. Assuming he even made it that far, of course. Vergil isn't unconvinced that he wouldn't have made it more than a few steps before his legs gave out on him from the loss of blood alone. So, if he thinks Vergil is insistent and a pest when it comes to taking care of himself after their fights, he would be in for quite the rude awakening if anyone else with less familiarity with him were to find him. At least Vergil's willing to offer a modicum of trust in Mizu that when he says he will be fine, he's able to believe it. "I hope we can..."
He almost says see one another again, but it feels immediately foolish and causes him to stay his tongue. To Vergil, it's a childish thing to say even if he does enjoy Mizu's company and there is perhaps something here that could be considered a comradery of sorts. Besides, Mizu's focus is on his own goals and his own aims. Not to say that he hasn't been willing to lend Vergil a bit of a hand now and again or that he's been opposed to any time they spend outside of what directly links to those goals, but only a fool would entirely ignoring Mizu's motivations. And Vergil would do well to remember that, he thinks. Lest he get ahead of himself and make a less safe assumption that leads to a tension or fracture in things. He would hate to lose Mizu's company because he chose to be overzealous.
Vergil looks away for a brief moment before he corrects himself, "I hope we can spar again soon."
The sentiment is no less sincere even if it wasn't entirely what he intended to say at first.
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Mizu nearly died once because no one would give her aid, especially not someone like her. If she hadn't found her mother— If she hadn't found the woman who first raised her, she would have died. She was a fool then, the way she got that injury. Mizu has learned better. Ah well, Mizu would not let anyone accost her terribly. At worst, she would invoke they take her to Amrita Academy, what passes as the most intensive medical care. Then, once they left, she would take her leave. That would be that.
More water before she leaves, the best no one gets the wrong idea about her ability to walk herself home. She hears the pause in Vergil's words and makes no move to leave while he chooses them. Mizu waits. Then she gives Vergil a weird look. With this healing ability, it will be soon. "We could probably spar again in a few days. Incredibly, needing to spend time at the library may become a larger impediment than anything else. I cannot count on research time on days we spar."
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"You could bring books with you," he suggests. "It would give you something to do without exerting yourself too soon."
Mizu is clearly too stubborn to fully and completely rest as he probably should even with his healing ability. The fact that he was willing to lay down and sleep at all today, and the simple fact he's still seated now after a bit of minor exertion is nothing short of a miracle. But perhaps he would be less eager to bolt before he had enough immediate recovery to manage independently if he felt like the time at rest wasn't such a waste.
"We also do not always have to spar like this either. You said as much yourself that there are other ways for you to improve than merely fighting me. You also previously assured me before you'd improve your hand-to-hand. Neither time with Mirage Edge nor hand-to-hand ought to leave you unable to make use of the rest of your day."
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Time with Mirage Edge.
That simple phrase amid the conversation about alternative sparring options sends her heart racing through her chest. She will get to wield it again? His sword. Not his primary sword, no, but his sword, a sword he made. The sense of responsibility to keep watch or the desire to face a better opponent are not enough to explain such a great allowance with something so personal. Mizu has no idea what has moved Vergil to such lengths, but she dare not ask, lest that prompt him to remove his offer, his permission.
Mizu makes note to work on forging blades like Mirage Edge for practice. She can always reforge the same steel time and again. There are not enough Star Children for her to master it. She could give each a blade of questionable quality and still not have one that meets her standards. Her standards are high, higher than some people's yes, but best she make one she likes. There will be more time spent forging in her future. Oh right, conversation.
"I am improving my hand-to-hand. I'd planned to reach a certain level, but," Mizu shrugs. She can handle losing, much as she isn't used to losing while grappling, even against larger opponents. "We can always practice before then. And Mirage Edge..." There's nowhere to look to see the blade, disappeared as it is. "It would be a pleasure." An absolutely heartfelt sentiment.
She smirks. "I assure you that I have never relied solely upon fighting you to improve my skills. I set aside time daily to train. I never want my skills to rust."
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Being in Folkmore doesn't appear to have lessened Mizu's desire for revenge in any meaningful way. Perhaps it is delaying it a bit in terms of direct action, but that delay does not mean much to Mizu. He's eager, but he's willing to demonstrate some patience and take advantage of the time he has here to study, learn, and train. Vergil wonders if the same would be true if he hadn't come here, but he doesn't think so. If there was a genuine barrier to Mizu pursuing his quarry, he'd seek the path forward while maintaining his skills. Obstacles could never likely dissuade something that seems to be so deeply embedded into the fabric of Mizu's being that it pulses through him with every beating of his heart.
"You would be boring if otherwise were true." It would be too stagnant in fighting Mizu again and again if there weren't signs of improvement each time, if Mizu didn't push him in his own way. "I can assure you that it's not a reflection of your skills or strength, so I don't mean it as an insult, but it's actually more difficult for me to hold back than anything else when we fight. Outside of fights and sparring as a child with Dante, every fight for me has been to the death."
He hums in light amusement as he looks away from Mizu again. In the grand scheme of his life, most were no contest. He dispatched his foes quickly and easily, usually with a single strike of Yamato. A few, however, Vergil's life was on the line, too, not just his opponent's life. There was no room for mistakes or easing up at any point during those battles, and Vergil had to use every ounce of his strength and power to see them through to the end.
"You're not the same. Each time we've fought, you've grown even if it's just a little. It keeps it...interesting. I have to rely on more than just my power alone, and the more you improve, the more I must think." He looks back at Mizu again, considering the other man for a moment before he smiles faintly and looks back outside the balcony. "I suppose in a strange sense, I almost want to see you defeat me in battle someday. For a human to have worked so hard and honed his skills so much to accomplish something like that, I would think of that as something remarkable, not shameful."
Vergil still views it as an impossible feat. As he said, he's holding back a great deal in each fight with Mizu to avoid putting an end to their sparring too early or to bring about irrevocable harm to Mizu. Even as Mizu grows and Vergil happens to find himself needing to access more of his power to maintain his victory over the other swordsman, there is still a great wealth of it not yet tapped into. It's unlikely Mizu will ever go that far as a human to result in Vergil approaching their sparring with his all. But he would not rob Mizu of the accomplishment if it were to happen. Bruised as Vergil's ego would be in the moment for losing, another part of him wouldn't see it as a shameful defeat and would be able to recognize all that Mizu would have had to do to get to that point.
"That being said, if your plan next time is more explosives, I would advise you to reconsider." He glances at Mizu out of the corner of his eye. "You reveal things as well each time we fight, Mizu, and you would do well to remember that."
He's mostly teasing, but there's also an undercurrent to which he is being sincere, too. Mizu won't be able to pull something like the stunt he pulled today again. Vergil will be prepared for it next time.
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No doubt some of those men would have been fine killing her, but they were not threats. Taigen was her most worthy opponent, and still she won. There have been similar circumstances when she's chosen not to kill. The hunt for information and the hunt for her fathers are not the same. A reputation as such a killer would impede her, not help her. Mizu is not the Four Fangs. She has no desire to be.
Vergil is much harder to kill than most men, so Mizu hasn't had to hold back the way she knows he is. After all, he could have been in that warmer form with thus far impenetrable scales the whole time. Instead, he usually works to avoid, block, or parry her attacks. When she manages to injure him, he heals quickly, so it doesn't limit him for long in their fights. Except for the explosion today. Mizu had bet he could survive it, and she was right. That said, she can still see the evidence of what it cost him today. Today. Mizu believes Vergil will be better prepared for it in the future. She still smiles at his words. "You would be boring if otherwise were true," she repeats back at him. "I will not promise the presence or absence of explosives. Though I remember our promise not to kill each other. The last opponent I used an explosive on, I stuck it in his neck. I deemed that too likely to kill you if successfully carried out."
She's mostly teasing, but Mizu cannot forget those moments when she thought she was wrong and that she'd gone too far. When Vergil's double disappeared, and she was left alone in the street unsure whether he were alive or dead. It may be much rarer for her to need to hold back on her attacks, but as determined as she is, as ferociously as she fights, Mizu never forgets her aim is not to kill him. He is not her enemy.
"Don't worry. You'll get to see something that remarkable one day. I'll make sure of it."
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Honestly, he thinks if Mizu's temperament were different, he'd likely prefer the company of Dante over Vergil if he has the mind for such stunts as that. Then again, Vergil is of his own temperament and he... Well, he minds his brother a lot, but he can't truthfully say he dislikes his brother's company. But Dante is not here. It is Vergil alone. So, Mizu doesn't really get his pick as it were.
"Time will tell one way or another," he says, agreeing as far as he's willing to possibly agree to the notion that Mizu will ever best him.
Vergil wouldn't say that he's sad or disappointed by the time Mizu eventually leaves. They fought well today and the conversation afterward didn't feel like such an uncertain mess afterward as some of their others had in the past. If anything it was...nice. Pleasant even when occasionally coupled with less pleasant memories and thoughts. Easier than expected.
He doesn't offer to walk Mizu to the train station, having felt he infringed upon the other swordsman's dignity enough by carrying him to the apartment in the first place. Thus, he only walks him to the door out of politeness rather than concern, but he does linger by his door for a few moments longer after the door is closed behind Mizu. The half-devil listens to Mizu's footfalls to be certain they remain steady in gait and pace, satisfied before Mizu can even leave his earshot. Vergil steps away then to attend to the dishes he'd neglected in favor of Mizu's company. As he walks from the front door to the kitchen, he glances into his training area. He remains fastidious and focused as always as he cleans the dishes and eventually changing out the sheets on his bed, but his mind drifts easily again and again to Mizu wielding Mirage Edge.