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[ Sometime in the early evening, after the sun had set and a little past what might be considered a standard dinner time -- a light knock raps against Vergil's door.
Maruki stands there, a well-insulated bag in hand. It may not be a gift from home. Vergil may not appreciate the interruption, but Maruki wanted to bring this to him anyway. It was the kind thing to do -- especially when he suspects Vergil might be the sort who is often alone. There's nothing wrong with being a loner, but here in Folkmore where the currency hinges upon interaction? The inclination to avoid people only makes it that much harder. So it's up to some of the more sociable types to ensure those loners are well-taken care of!
Of course, there's very little Maruki can do if Vergil refuses to answer the door. But hopefully it won't come to that. He lightly knocks again. ]
Maruki stands there, a well-insulated bag in hand. It may not be a gift from home. Vergil may not appreciate the interruption, but Maruki wanted to bring this to him anyway. It was the kind thing to do -- especially when he suspects Vergil might be the sort who is often alone. There's nothing wrong with being a loner, but here in Folkmore where the currency hinges upon interaction? The inclination to avoid people only makes it that much harder. So it's up to some of the more sociable types to ensure those loners are well-taken care of!
Of course, there's very little Maruki can do if Vergil refuses to answer the door. But hopefully it won't come to that. He lightly knocks again. ]
[Maruki's assumptions about Vergil's tendency to keep to himself isn't altogether misplaced. Even before his mother's death, Vergil wasn't particularly extroverted. He'd preferred the company of adults as a child, often being devastated any time either of his parents shooed him away from discussions that he didn't need to be participate in or seeking out conversation with the kindly older gentleman that allowed Vergil to run rampant in his library. It wasn't just because he'd liked it when they talked to him in a way that filled him with the sort of self-importance that always comes in one's youth when not being patronized by an adult, but because they also let him be more readily. They weren't like Dante or the other children who always were so full of noise and constantly seeking attention. And that tendency, that preference for the quiet never went away.]
[But where Maruki gets it wrong is in his assumption that Vergil is somehow on the brink of disaster because of his more reserved, private nature. He knows how to survive on less, but more than that, Vergil's pragmatic enough to understand if he wants to survive, he can't be entirely on his own. And so, he does what must and makes do with the little snippets of conversation here and there. Today has been such a day where the majority of it has been spent gathering enough lore that he ought to have enough to replenish his foodstuffs tomorrow.]
[Thus, the evening was his. Or it was meant to be, in any case.]
[Returning to his apartment in the late afternoon, he'd spent the time practicing his form. Even if the threats seem significantly minimal in Folkmore and he's still without Yamato, there is something inherently meditative to the practice for Vergil; never mind that it also satisfies his need for self-discipline to keep his skills sharp. After enough practice for one afternoon—if such a thing truly existed—he opted for a quick shower. It's shortly after that, when Vergil's just putting on a kettle for some tea that there's knocking at his front door.]
[At the first knock, Vergil's brow furrows and he looks at the door from the kitchen almost as though it's offended him personally.]
[At the second knock, he sighs. Although Vergil's certainly put out with his solitude being disturbed, he doesn't deign to be rude to whoever is intruding on his evening. Vergil finishes selecting his mug from the cabinet, placing it down on the countertop near to the stove before hitting the pause button on the quiet music that had been playing on his relic. Running his fingers through his hair, Vergil pushes it back to be mildly a little more presentable despite his current attire of a plain t-shirt and sweatpants. His hair is still damp enough from the shower that it minds the redirection easily enough.]
[He makes it to the door before there can be a third knock, opening the door wide enough for the both of them to see one another, but certainly not wide enough to signal any invitation to come inside. Much like before when Maruki was at his door, Vergil's brow furrows slightly as he looks from Maruki to his insulated bag.]
You again. [It's said more like a statement of fact that it is, indeed, Maruki again rather than an accusation or irritability. He meets Maruki's gaze.] What do you want?
[But where Maruki gets it wrong is in his assumption that Vergil is somehow on the brink of disaster because of his more reserved, private nature. He knows how to survive on less, but more than that, Vergil's pragmatic enough to understand if he wants to survive, he can't be entirely on his own. And so, he does what must and makes do with the little snippets of conversation here and there. Today has been such a day where the majority of it has been spent gathering enough lore that he ought to have enough to replenish his foodstuffs tomorrow.]
[Thus, the evening was his. Or it was meant to be, in any case.]
[Returning to his apartment in the late afternoon, he'd spent the time practicing his form. Even if the threats seem significantly minimal in Folkmore and he's still without Yamato, there is something inherently meditative to the practice for Vergil; never mind that it also satisfies his need for self-discipline to keep his skills sharp. After enough practice for one afternoon—if such a thing truly existed—he opted for a quick shower. It's shortly after that, when Vergil's just putting on a kettle for some tea that there's knocking at his front door.]
[At the first knock, Vergil's brow furrows and he looks at the door from the kitchen almost as though it's offended him personally.]
[At the second knock, he sighs. Although Vergil's certainly put out with his solitude being disturbed, he doesn't deign to be rude to whoever is intruding on his evening. Vergil finishes selecting his mug from the cabinet, placing it down on the countertop near to the stove before hitting the pause button on the quiet music that had been playing on his relic. Running his fingers through his hair, Vergil pushes it back to be mildly a little more presentable despite his current attire of a plain t-shirt and sweatpants. His hair is still damp enough from the shower that it minds the redirection easily enough.]
[He makes it to the door before there can be a third knock, opening the door wide enough for the both of them to see one another, but certainly not wide enough to signal any invitation to come inside. Much like before when Maruki was at his door, Vergil's brow furrows slightly as he looks from Maruki to his insulated bag.]
You again. [It's said more like a statement of fact that it is, indeed, Maruki again rather than an accusation or irritability. He meets Maruki's gaze.] What do you want?
[ It's heartening that the door opens. Maruki straightens himself, expression pleasant even in spite of the slightly uncharacteristic greeting. ]
Good evening!
[ Judging by his attire, Vergil appears to be ready to settle into that evening. A slightly apologetic expression comes to Maruki's face, even though he doesn't outright apologize. The damage is done. The door is open. He'll be quick! ]
It's New Years Eve. I don't know if you're familiar with Japanese traditions...but I made just a little too much Toshikoshi Soba for myself and Minato-kun tonight, so I thought you might appreciate it.
[ He carefully removes the inner bag from the insulated one to reveal a hearty bowl of noodles, vegetables, and a fish cake on top. The steam still pours out from under the lid. ]
It's a meal meant to bring good fortune into the New Year and one that's rich with symbolism -- To break free of ones past and to gather strength and resilience like the tough buckwheat crop.
[ Maruki places a sleeve of chopsticks on top of the bowl and then offers the bag in Vergil's direction. ]
I won't claim to be a professional chef or anything, but I am proud of how I've perfected this throughout the years.
[ The pleasantries fade to something uncharacteristic for Maruki, something softer and more forlorn. ]
It's been a long while since I could celebrate the New Year with anyone other than myself for company.
[ But just as quickly as he let that sorrow shadow his face, it's gone because Maruki has to remember the things he is grateful for. He's not alone. He'll go back to his place and be able to celebrate the stroke of midnight with Minato. He has a second chance, and maybe in this world...he can find the right path for his life to take. ]
But I digress! Sharing the wishes for a good fortune and wishing you a Happy New Year was all I wanted.
Good evening!
[ Judging by his attire, Vergil appears to be ready to settle into that evening. A slightly apologetic expression comes to Maruki's face, even though he doesn't outright apologize. The damage is done. The door is open. He'll be quick! ]
It's New Years Eve. I don't know if you're familiar with Japanese traditions...but I made just a little too much Toshikoshi Soba for myself and Minato-kun tonight, so I thought you might appreciate it.
[ He carefully removes the inner bag from the insulated one to reveal a hearty bowl of noodles, vegetables, and a fish cake on top. The steam still pours out from under the lid. ]
It's a meal meant to bring good fortune into the New Year and one that's rich with symbolism -- To break free of ones past and to gather strength and resilience like the tough buckwheat crop.
[ Maruki places a sleeve of chopsticks on top of the bowl and then offers the bag in Vergil's direction. ]
I won't claim to be a professional chef or anything, but I am proud of how I've perfected this throughout the years.
[ The pleasantries fade to something uncharacteristic for Maruki, something softer and more forlorn. ]
It's been a long while since I could celebrate the New Year with anyone other than myself for company.
[ But just as quickly as he let that sorrow shadow his face, it's gone because Maruki has to remember the things he is grateful for. He's not alone. He'll go back to his place and be able to celebrate the stroke of midnight with Minato. He has a second chance, and maybe in this world...he can find the right path for his life to take. ]
But I digress! Sharing the wishes for a good fortune and wishing you a Happy New Year was all I wanted.
[Vergil can't help the skeptical eyebrow that rises when Maruki's tone seems to be trying to imply that he just happened to have accidentally made too much soba for two people to eat. Vergil doesn't trust that it was some sort of happy little accident since there was absolutely no reason to assume anything about Vergil when it pertained to food beyond that he most likely needed to eat. And not only that, Maruki certainly didn't have any incentive to bring anything to Vergil in the first place or speak to him again. When they met, the half-devil didn't do anything to invite conversation. Hell, even once Maruki managed to pique Vergil's interest, it wasn't really Maruki.]
[Thus, Vergil's skepticism is about to be followed with outright suspicion quickly thereafter as Maruki explains the symbolism behind the food and offers it to him. What slows it from manifesting, however, is Vergil himself lacks enough to formulate possible ulterior motives. What ultimately stops it in its tracks is that little remark and shift in Maruki's tone.]
[The man is clearly lonely. No wonder why he's being so persistent in the face of... Well, Vergil isn't exactly outright rejecting Maruki, but he's not being particularly inviting either.]
[Granted, it could also all be an act.]
[Rather than taking the offered food, Vergil scrutinizes the man at his door.]
[...Then again, if this man is somehow pulling one over Vergil, he's likely an incredibly talented actor while also having the world's worst intuition on how to effectively manipulate others.]
[Vergil's pause in taking the offered food or responding to the well wishes lasts a moment longer before he opens the door a little wider.]
If you would like to come in for a few minutes, I was just making some tea.
[He can humor this lonely human for a few minutes. At the very least, it won't create a situation where there's a perceived debt between them if Vergil exchanges something in return. And if nothing else, it would serve to either confirm Vergil's suspicions if these few minutes prove to be what he was truly after or prove there is some other motive waiting to yet be revealed. And in that circumstance, it is certainly better for Vergil to have a close eye on him than nothing at all.]
[Thus, Vergil's skepticism is about to be followed with outright suspicion quickly thereafter as Maruki explains the symbolism behind the food and offers it to him. What slows it from manifesting, however, is Vergil himself lacks enough to formulate possible ulterior motives. What ultimately stops it in its tracks is that little remark and shift in Maruki's tone.]
[The man is clearly lonely. No wonder why he's being so persistent in the face of... Well, Vergil isn't exactly outright rejecting Maruki, but he's not being particularly inviting either.]
[Granted, it could also all be an act.]
[Rather than taking the offered food, Vergil scrutinizes the man at his door.]
[...Then again, if this man is somehow pulling one over Vergil, he's likely an incredibly talented actor while also having the world's worst intuition on how to effectively manipulate others.]
[Vergil's pause in taking the offered food or responding to the well wishes lasts a moment longer before he opens the door a little wider.]
If you would like to come in for a few minutes, I was just making some tea.
[He can humor this lonely human for a few minutes. At the very least, it won't create a situation where there's a perceived debt between them if Vergil exchanges something in return. And if nothing else, it would serve to either confirm Vergil's suspicions if these few minutes prove to be what he was truly after or prove there is some other motive waiting to yet be revealed. And in that circumstance, it is certainly better for Vergil to have a close eye on him than nothing at all.]
[ There's a brief moment of surprise at the offer. Truly, he figured he would dump the food off (if Vergil even took it in the first place) and then be on his way. About the last thing he expected was an invitation for a cup of tea. But it's certainly a welcome surprise and Maruki's expression brightens. He's not foolish enough to think he must be winning Vergil over, but this is a step in the right direction! ]
Yes, please. That would be lovely. Thank you! It is quite a long trip back to Leshy...
[ Which does beg the question how the food managed to stay so warm. But that's nothing a tiny bit of fire magic couldn't take care of!
Takuto steps into the entrance once Vergil moves to allow it and pauses to remove his boots at the door. Whether Vergil takes the food from him or Maruki carries it to the table himself, when his hands are free he loosens the light blue scarf so that the tails simply drape around his shoulders.
Giving a cursory glance around the apartment, he takes note of two things. The swords and the bookshelf. While the swords aren't too unusual (Maruki had figured Vergil to be a warrior of some kind) the books aren't exactly expected. Unfairly, Maruki had assumed because Vergil was a man of few words, he was also a man who didn't necessarily like words. But that doesn't seem to be the case. Instead Vergil is like a good novel, hiding away beneath a thick cover with a unique personality and story within the pages. Granted, this shelf could be decoration alone, but Maruki has to resist every urge to head over and start perusing the titles -- to eagerly look for a connection point, something they could chat about. But he'll be polite for now. He's not looking to get kicked out when he'd only just got invited!
Besides, he thinks he has a better idea at a first connection point -- something Vergil might be infinitely more comfortable with. It's not Maruki's particular interest since he leans heavily toward the intellectual, but he would be remiss if he didn't try to sharpen his skillset here. ]
Is it your preference to train alone, Mr. Vergil? Or would you perhaps be interested in a sparring partner? I know I might not look like much, but I assure you...I could be a worthy opponent. This world still allows me access to my powers.
[ He winces slightly. ]
Though my stamina is certainly not what it was back home. That's something I'm in great need to improve. It already proved dangerous during the Wild Hunt a month ago. I managed to save a few others, but I couldn't keep up against the fae for long and found myself surrounded.
[ Shaking his head, he gets back to the point. ]
But if you would be willing to offer your aid, I would be eternally grateful!
Yes, please. That would be lovely. Thank you! It is quite a long trip back to Leshy...
[ Which does beg the question how the food managed to stay so warm. But that's nothing a tiny bit of fire magic couldn't take care of!
Takuto steps into the entrance once Vergil moves to allow it and pauses to remove his boots at the door. Whether Vergil takes the food from him or Maruki carries it to the table himself, when his hands are free he loosens the light blue scarf so that the tails simply drape around his shoulders.
Giving a cursory glance around the apartment, he takes note of two things. The swords and the bookshelf. While the swords aren't too unusual (Maruki had figured Vergil to be a warrior of some kind) the books aren't exactly expected. Unfairly, Maruki had assumed because Vergil was a man of few words, he was also a man who didn't necessarily like words. But that doesn't seem to be the case. Instead Vergil is like a good novel, hiding away beneath a thick cover with a unique personality and story within the pages. Granted, this shelf could be decoration alone, but Maruki has to resist every urge to head over and start perusing the titles -- to eagerly look for a connection point, something they could chat about. But he'll be polite for now. He's not looking to get kicked out when he'd only just got invited!
Besides, he thinks he has a better idea at a first connection point -- something Vergil might be infinitely more comfortable with. It's not Maruki's particular interest since he leans heavily toward the intellectual, but he would be remiss if he didn't try to sharpen his skillset here. ]
Is it your preference to train alone, Mr. Vergil? Or would you perhaps be interested in a sparring partner? I know I might not look like much, but I assure you...I could be a worthy opponent. This world still allows me access to my powers.
[ He winces slightly. ]
Though my stamina is certainly not what it was back home. That's something I'm in great need to improve. It already proved dangerous during the Wild Hunt a month ago. I managed to save a few others, but I couldn't keep up against the fae for long and found myself surrounded.
[ Shaking his head, he gets back to the point. ]
But if you would be willing to offer your aid, I would be eternally grateful!
[Once the offer for a cup of tea is enthusiastically accepted, Vergil takes the food from Maruki to free up his hands for getting himself situated with whatever outerwear is more comfortable to temporarily shed or adjust. As Maruki is managing his boots, Vergil closes the door behind him and steps further back into his apartment. For now, the soba is deposited onto the table that serves as a place for Vergil to take his meals. Pressed against the wall just a few steps from the kitchen, the table is small enough to only host two although assumptions that the second chair rarely sees use wouldn't be off the mark.]
[Vergil returns to his kitchen and puts the mug he grabbed earlier away. Rather than simply grabbing a second mug, Vergil opts for teacups. He'd determined he would entertain this man for a few minutes and he meant it. A teacup would mean a bit quicker consumption of the tea and send him on his way sooner than a mug. He places both mugs and saucers on a small tray, alongside a teapot and strainer.]
It's just Vergil, [he first corrects as he opens the tea tin and begins scooping out the leaves for the teapot.] I'm not an instructor. Defeating those with less skill and power than myself is meaningless.
[While it's certainly a mark of arrogance on Vergil's part both in the assumption Maruki could not keep up with him and that it is beneath him to engage with those weaker than himself, there's also something that's deeply pragmatic about it all the same. Vergil truly can't gain much from a sparring match against a weaker and less skilled opponent. His skills don't improve from the fight and there's no pride or satisfaction to be taken in defeating an opponent who won't prove a challenge.]
If you wish to improve, I'm sure there are plenty at the schools that will take that on.
[Unfortunately, Maruki's assurance to Vergil that he could be worthy isn't enough to convince Vergil. The drive to want to improve is admirable, of course. Taking a defeat and using it to motivate oneself towards improvement is the only respectable outcome to Vergil. But could be isn't the same as would be. A lack of confidence is just as much a mark of a lack of skill as anything else. One could possess all the power in the world, but a lack of confidence inhibits their ability to maximize their potential with it because they begin to second guess and hesitate.]
[Vergil simply isn't keen on sparring with someone who lacks confidence any more than he is someone who lacks power.]
[The kettle on the stovetop begins to whistle and Vergil steps over to turn the stove off and place the kettle on another burner.]
Do you take anything with your tea?
[Vergil doesn't, but he's willing to accommodate and add sugar and/or milk to the tray.]
[Vergil returns to his kitchen and puts the mug he grabbed earlier away. Rather than simply grabbing a second mug, Vergil opts for teacups. He'd determined he would entertain this man for a few minutes and he meant it. A teacup would mean a bit quicker consumption of the tea and send him on his way sooner than a mug. He places both mugs and saucers on a small tray, alongside a teapot and strainer.]
It's just Vergil, [he first corrects as he opens the tea tin and begins scooping out the leaves for the teapot.] I'm not an instructor. Defeating those with less skill and power than myself is meaningless.
[While it's certainly a mark of arrogance on Vergil's part both in the assumption Maruki could not keep up with him and that it is beneath him to engage with those weaker than himself, there's also something that's deeply pragmatic about it all the same. Vergil truly can't gain much from a sparring match against a weaker and less skilled opponent. His skills don't improve from the fight and there's no pride or satisfaction to be taken in defeating an opponent who won't prove a challenge.]
If you wish to improve, I'm sure there are plenty at the schools that will take that on.
[Unfortunately, Maruki's assurance to Vergil that he could be worthy isn't enough to convince Vergil. The drive to want to improve is admirable, of course. Taking a defeat and using it to motivate oneself towards improvement is the only respectable outcome to Vergil. But could be isn't the same as would be. A lack of confidence is just as much a mark of a lack of skill as anything else. One could possess all the power in the world, but a lack of confidence inhibits their ability to maximize their potential with it because they begin to second guess and hesitate.]
[Vergil simply isn't keen on sparring with someone who lacks confidence any more than he is someone who lacks power.]
[The kettle on the stovetop begins to whistle and Vergil steps over to turn the stove off and place the kettle on another burner.]
Do you take anything with your tea?
[Vergil doesn't, but he's willing to accommodate and add sugar and/or milk to the tray.]
Just plain is fine.
[ Maruki answers of the tea first, opting for silence immediately after Vergil's assertion about their power levels. He's not offended. It's clear looking at him, Maruki comes across more like a bumbling idiot than anything. If he emphatically insisted he was strong enough, it would likely only come across as a petulant child trying to insist he was good enough to play a sport against the older boys. Something that comes from a place of wanting to fit in rather than any skill. Maruki doesn't truly want to fight. He doesn't want to fit in. He just wants to protect people....
Settling into the largely unused seat, he folds his hands on the table and spares a glance toward the swords on the wall again. Maruki had only hoped to make a friend, but perhaps it was unfair to himself to try and capitulate to the Vergil's interests in hopes it would open up a chance for them to get to know each other. ]
I suppose you are correct that this would be an issue better suited to one of the schools. Truthfully, I'm not sure even you would be able to withstand my power and I wouldn't wish to hurt you.
[ There isn't a shred of pride or ego in his tone. Maruki is honest. And he certainly doesn't look at the other man with pity or superiority. It's only a pragmatic expression he offers as he folds his hands on the table. ]
But I don't precisely take comfort in utilizing Thirteen's methods to further my own strength. My power is my own.
[ And if things continue the way they are within this world, there may come a time when that power needed to go against Thirteen. ]
[ Maruki answers of the tea first, opting for silence immediately after Vergil's assertion about their power levels. He's not offended. It's clear looking at him, Maruki comes across more like a bumbling idiot than anything. If he emphatically insisted he was strong enough, it would likely only come across as a petulant child trying to insist he was good enough to play a sport against the older boys. Something that comes from a place of wanting to fit in rather than any skill. Maruki doesn't truly want to fight. He doesn't want to fit in. He just wants to protect people....
Settling into the largely unused seat, he folds his hands on the table and spares a glance toward the swords on the wall again. Maruki had only hoped to make a friend, but perhaps it was unfair to himself to try and capitulate to the Vergil's interests in hopes it would open up a chance for them to get to know each other. ]
I suppose you are correct that this would be an issue better suited to one of the schools. Truthfully, I'm not sure even you would be able to withstand my power and I wouldn't wish to hurt you.
[ There isn't a shred of pride or ego in his tone. Maruki is honest. And he certainly doesn't look at the other man with pity or superiority. It's only a pragmatic expression he offers as he folds his hands on the table. ]
But I don't precisely take comfort in utilizing Thirteen's methods to further my own strength. My power is my own.
[ And if things continue the way they are within this world, there may come a time when that power needed to go against Thirteen. ]
[At the indication he isn't interested in any sugar or milk, Vergil picks up the kettle and brings it to the teapot to pour it. Maruki is getting settled into his seat as Vergil places the lid on the teapot. There isn't a spared glance in the other man's direction when Vergil takes the couple of steps necessary to set the kettle back on the stove, but he is listening as Maruki makes his claim of not wanting to hurt Vergil.]
[Were he decades younger, it's no doubt that would have sparked some kind of reaction in Vergil. He had so much to prove back then and any insinuation of weakness was always met with a swift, efficient show of force to prove otherwise. But as it is, Vergil finds it faintly amusing that Maruki of all people could somehow hurt him in any significant way when others with more overt strength and power haven't been able to break him, but it doesn't show anywhere in his expression. He just picks up the tray and brings it to the table, setting it in the middle. Vergil pulls out the other chair, turning it so the back rests against the wall before he takes a seat.]
[He leaves the tea alone to steep in the pot, folding his arms across his chest. Vergil doesn't look over at Maruki, instead looking out the balcony that he's positioned the table across from. Vergil hasn't closed the blinds yet for the evening, allowing a view of Epiphany to still be visible beyond the slight glare from the apartment lights.]
And yet, you would find enough comfort to train with me. Someone you don't truly know both in motivation and intention, but seem to think you do after a few minutes of being around them. For all you know, I could kill you where you sit before you could even draw your next breath.
[He hums in his quiet, faint amusement. There's almost a smile.]
[It's curious, he thinks. This man seems so entirely unassuming, but he's bold enough to try and claim he possesses within him a great power. He's almost blind in his trust with a near-stranger and yet he's skeptical of the being that brought them both here. It's a curious dichotomy. But it is also terribly human, Vergil thinks. Maruki doesn't know Vergil to be anything other than human. There's nothing about Vergil that would lead him to conclude otherwise without any sort of supernatural or heightened senses, which he clearly does not possess. But he knows Thirteen isn't human. He knows she operates on rules that are unconventional to humans. Perhaps even, at times, antithetical. And he probably knows well enough fox spirits tend to be tricksters in most folklore. He wonders if Maruki would think differently if he knew. If Vergil were to claim his heritage right here and now, how quickly would his perspective shift and change?]
[Vergil doesn't experiment with it and lets it be. He turns his head to look at Maruki.]
Regardless, my answer remains the same. You'll need to find someone else among the...Star Children. [He finds the term silly, and that much is likely clear by the way he hesitates before saying it never mind the tone. Vergil looks back out at the world outside his apartment.] I'm sure there are plenty that would be eager. And you wouldn't need to rely upon Thirteen for any of it.
[Something Vergil privately approves of Maruki doing even if he won't say as much directly. His power is his own, he said. Hopefully he shall be able to stick to it, Vergil thinks as his gaze darts briefly to the katana he had been practicing with earlier. Vergil wasn't left with much choice in that particular matter when it comes to his weapons.]
[Were he decades younger, it's no doubt that would have sparked some kind of reaction in Vergil. He had so much to prove back then and any insinuation of weakness was always met with a swift, efficient show of force to prove otherwise. But as it is, Vergil finds it faintly amusing that Maruki of all people could somehow hurt him in any significant way when others with more overt strength and power haven't been able to break him, but it doesn't show anywhere in his expression. He just picks up the tray and brings it to the table, setting it in the middle. Vergil pulls out the other chair, turning it so the back rests against the wall before he takes a seat.]
[He leaves the tea alone to steep in the pot, folding his arms across his chest. Vergil doesn't look over at Maruki, instead looking out the balcony that he's positioned the table across from. Vergil hasn't closed the blinds yet for the evening, allowing a view of Epiphany to still be visible beyond the slight glare from the apartment lights.]
And yet, you would find enough comfort to train with me. Someone you don't truly know both in motivation and intention, but seem to think you do after a few minutes of being around them. For all you know, I could kill you where you sit before you could even draw your next breath.
[He hums in his quiet, faint amusement. There's almost a smile.]
[It's curious, he thinks. This man seems so entirely unassuming, but he's bold enough to try and claim he possesses within him a great power. He's almost blind in his trust with a near-stranger and yet he's skeptical of the being that brought them both here. It's a curious dichotomy. But it is also terribly human, Vergil thinks. Maruki doesn't know Vergil to be anything other than human. There's nothing about Vergil that would lead him to conclude otherwise without any sort of supernatural or heightened senses, which he clearly does not possess. But he knows Thirteen isn't human. He knows she operates on rules that are unconventional to humans. Perhaps even, at times, antithetical. And he probably knows well enough fox spirits tend to be tricksters in most folklore. He wonders if Maruki would think differently if he knew. If Vergil were to claim his heritage right here and now, how quickly would his perspective shift and change?]
[Vergil doesn't experiment with it and lets it be. He turns his head to look at Maruki.]
Regardless, my answer remains the same. You'll need to find someone else among the...Star Children. [He finds the term silly, and that much is likely clear by the way he hesitates before saying it never mind the tone. Vergil looks back out at the world outside his apartment.] I'm sure there are plenty that would be eager. And you wouldn't need to rely upon Thirteen for any of it.
[Something Vergil privately approves of Maruki doing even if he won't say as much directly. His power is his own, he said. Hopefully he shall be able to stick to it, Vergil thinks as his gaze darts briefly to the katana he had been practicing with earlier. Vergil wasn't left with much choice in that particular matter when it comes to his weapons.]
[ While Vergil's focus seems to be everywhere but on Maruki himself, the counselor watches him -- quiet, appraising, and curious. He makes bold claims about possibilities. Possibilities that he could be cruel or murderous, possibilities that Maruki could have been so foolish as to enter the spider's parlor and find himself a victim of his killing blow. Sure, those things could be possibilities. But Vergil hasn't made a move to kill him. After ample opportunities to do so, he hasn't. And perhaps it might be missed, but for a brief moment, there's a spark of something beyond the friendly exterior -- a spark of rebellious determination that Vergil could try to kill him, but Maruki wouldn't be so easy to kill. A backbone where he might be otherwise considered spineless.
But even so, Vergil reiterates his disinterest in training and that's that. Maruki won't protest. He simply removes his glasses and takes a cloth from his breast pocket to polish them. ]
Fair enough.
[ The glasses are returned to his face and it's back to the mild-mannered, gentle expression again. With a quiet laugh, Maruki shakes his head. ]
Though let's be clear, I don't presume to know a single thing about you, Vergil. I can craft ideas, I can come up with theories and have my guesses...but I will never be as bold as to claim I know your motivations. And I certainly will never be as bold as to claim I trust you. The only thing I see when I look at you is someone who is far too used to being alone.
[ And maybe Vergil is happy that way. Maybe he's content to carry on in solitude. Maybe he will claim he doesn't need any kind of companionship because his books and his swords are enough. But would that be the truth? ]
I don't know the circumstances behind it. I don't know your life. I don't know what led you to follow the fox in the first place. The only thing I do know is you've tolerated my company thus far. And so, I would like to keep offering it. As someone else who is far too used to being alone. A fool of a man who thought that by becoming his world's god, he could fill the hole in his life.
[ Slowly, Maruki reaches out to take the tea pot so he can pour himself a cup. Vergil has tolerated his presence, but Maruki knows the time is ticking down. So he'll get the tea cooling to drink it and be on his way -- to not outstay his very thin welcome. ]
I will admit, the only reason I offered training is because I thought you might be more tolerant of that kind of continued contact as opposed to the conversational sort. But perhaps that was presumptuous of me, and I do apologize if so.
But even so, Vergil reiterates his disinterest in training and that's that. Maruki won't protest. He simply removes his glasses and takes a cloth from his breast pocket to polish them. ]
Fair enough.
[ The glasses are returned to his face and it's back to the mild-mannered, gentle expression again. With a quiet laugh, Maruki shakes his head. ]
Though let's be clear, I don't presume to know a single thing about you, Vergil. I can craft ideas, I can come up with theories and have my guesses...but I will never be as bold as to claim I know your motivations. And I certainly will never be as bold as to claim I trust you. The only thing I see when I look at you is someone who is far too used to being alone.
[ And maybe Vergil is happy that way. Maybe he's content to carry on in solitude. Maybe he will claim he doesn't need any kind of companionship because his books and his swords are enough. But would that be the truth? ]
I don't know the circumstances behind it. I don't know your life. I don't know what led you to follow the fox in the first place. The only thing I do know is you've tolerated my company thus far. And so, I would like to keep offering it. As someone else who is far too used to being alone. A fool of a man who thought that by becoming his world's god, he could fill the hole in his life.
[ Slowly, Maruki reaches out to take the tea pot so he can pour himself a cup. Vergil has tolerated his presence, but Maruki knows the time is ticking down. So he'll get the tea cooling to drink it and be on his way -- to not outstay his very thin welcome. ]
I will admit, the only reason I offered training is because I thought you might be more tolerant of that kind of continued contact as opposed to the conversational sort. But perhaps that was presumptuous of me, and I do apologize if so.
[Without turning his head, Vergil looks at Maruki out of the corner of his eye when he claims Vergil looks like someone accustomed to being on their own. No, not being on their own. Alone. There's a distinction there. On one hand, Vergil can count the connections he's had with others throughout his lifetime, and the majority of them are people he knew before his life was forever changed, and his path was decided for him. His mother. His brother. His father. There's only been one other, and... Well, if she's still alive, Vergil assumes she's most likely forgotten him. He hopes she's forgotten him and moved on with her life, to someone who could give her all the things he was never capable of giving her in the first place. On the other...]
[Vergil looks away again as Maruki continues, pouring himself his serving of tea. He opts to close his eyes for a moment, focusing on the scent of the tea as the warm, woody notes of the Rooibos tea rises from Maruki's cup. It's a sweeter blend with cacao and caramel to balance the nuttier and smokier flavoring. Perfect for a cold winter day.]
[Strange as it is to consider, it seems that Vergil and Maruki are cut from a similar cloth to one another if what Maruki claims is true. Vergil was never trying to abate his loneliness. He learned first to tolerate it, survive it, and then thrive within it. But he tried so hard for so long to use power as a means of eliminating that weakness and vulnerability he so feared and dread to ever feel again. It could have very well driven him to madness or worse, but in all his philosophies and attempts to protect himself and what he had... Vergil had only known loss. Again and again.]
I have spent the past two and a half decades in the Underworld. [He opens his eyes, turning his head to look at Maruki again. Continuing, he sounds almost as though he were scolding Maruki, agreeing that it was presumptuous on Maruki's part when he says,] I'm not averse to conversation.
[Vergil pauses before he adds, a little gentler,] It's simply rare amid the filth of that place that you will find anything akin to intelligence.
[It's the closest Vergil is willing to be in saying that he's not accustomed to conversation and hasn't been in a very long time. He brushes past the admission quickly, turning in his seat to pour himself his own cup of tea, he continues,]
Being on my own is of little consequence to me and I won't abide pity. So, if your intentions are to make me feel better, it's a matter that doesn't bother or pain me. Or if you've concerns I might starve to death in this place, I know what it takes to survive and manage fine on my own within the parameters Thirteen has set. But if you're looking to ease your own loneliness...
[He sets the teapot down and places the strainer back down near the center of the tray. He moves his teacup from the tray to the table in front of him before settling back to his original position. This time, he rests a forearm on the edge of the table as he looks back out toward the balcony.]
There are others who would likely make for better company.
[Vergil looks away again as Maruki continues, pouring himself his serving of tea. He opts to close his eyes for a moment, focusing on the scent of the tea as the warm, woody notes of the Rooibos tea rises from Maruki's cup. It's a sweeter blend with cacao and caramel to balance the nuttier and smokier flavoring. Perfect for a cold winter day.]
[Strange as it is to consider, it seems that Vergil and Maruki are cut from a similar cloth to one another if what Maruki claims is true. Vergil was never trying to abate his loneliness. He learned first to tolerate it, survive it, and then thrive within it. But he tried so hard for so long to use power as a means of eliminating that weakness and vulnerability he so feared and dread to ever feel again. It could have very well driven him to madness or worse, but in all his philosophies and attempts to protect himself and what he had... Vergil had only known loss. Again and again.]
I have spent the past two and a half decades in the Underworld. [He opens his eyes, turning his head to look at Maruki again. Continuing, he sounds almost as though he were scolding Maruki, agreeing that it was presumptuous on Maruki's part when he says,] I'm not averse to conversation.
[Vergil pauses before he adds, a little gentler,] It's simply rare amid the filth of that place that you will find anything akin to intelligence.
[It's the closest Vergil is willing to be in saying that he's not accustomed to conversation and hasn't been in a very long time. He brushes past the admission quickly, turning in his seat to pour himself his own cup of tea, he continues,]
Being on my own is of little consequence to me and I won't abide pity. So, if your intentions are to make me feel better, it's a matter that doesn't bother or pain me. Or if you've concerns I might starve to death in this place, I know what it takes to survive and manage fine on my own within the parameters Thirteen has set. But if you're looking to ease your own loneliness...
[He sets the teapot down and places the strainer back down near the center of the tray. He moves his teacup from the tray to the table in front of him before settling back to his original position. This time, he rests a forearm on the edge of the table as he looks back out toward the balcony.]
There are others who would likely make for better company.
[ Two and a half decades in the Underworld. Two and a half. Twenty-five years. Maruki's expression is one of surprise, initially. The Underworld could mean a lot of things. It could be true that Vergil comes from no version of Earth and this is something different to him. It could also be true the Underworld is a version of hell -- and that's where Maruki's initial thoughts land, reinforced by Vergil's confession about the filth and lack of intelligence found therein. Where Maruki's surprised expression goes from there is oddly to one of warmth. It would be easy to feel sympathy for Vergil -- to assume it must have been dire circumstances that led him to live his life in the Underworld. Maruki could get wrapped up in his bleeding heart because he does feel awful that anyone should have to live that way.
But Vergil shared with him. Vergil shared this one truth about his life. He wasn't forced. After their initial meeting and Vergil's refusal to even confirm or deny whether Maruki's guesses were correct, Maruki never thought Vergil would part with any sort of information without a great deal of arm twisting or questioning that bordered the edge of annoyance. Certainly, he never expected anything unprompted. And Maruki cannot hide the warm appreciation at receiving even a sliver of insight into the other.
He gently lifts his tea, parting the steam with a gentle breath before taking a sip. What a unique and delectable blend! ]
While that may be true in regards to quote unquote "better company," I hardly find yours unpleasant.
[ The cup is returned to the table and he looks up at Vergil. ]
If there have to be intentions of any sort assigned to this, why not consider it a mutually beneficial arrangement? Since lore is the currency, we both stand to gain from any interaction. It certainly sounds better than you merely tolerating the company of a lonely man.
[ There's a soft, throaty laugh as his eyes return to the tea -- tracing the tendrils of vapor as they rise up into the air. ]
Hm, I know! I love trying new recipes and I can tell you have quite the discerning palate -- so what if I cooked you dinner once a week and you gave me your feedback? You can criticize me as harsh and brutally as you wish -- the lore is not nearly as discerning!
But Vergil shared with him. Vergil shared this one truth about his life. He wasn't forced. After their initial meeting and Vergil's refusal to even confirm or deny whether Maruki's guesses were correct, Maruki never thought Vergil would part with any sort of information without a great deal of arm twisting or questioning that bordered the edge of annoyance. Certainly, he never expected anything unprompted. And Maruki cannot hide the warm appreciation at receiving even a sliver of insight into the other.
He gently lifts his tea, parting the steam with a gentle breath before taking a sip. What a unique and delectable blend! ]
While that may be true in regards to quote unquote "better company," I hardly find yours unpleasant.
[ The cup is returned to the table and he looks up at Vergil. ]
If there have to be intentions of any sort assigned to this, why not consider it a mutually beneficial arrangement? Since lore is the currency, we both stand to gain from any interaction. It certainly sounds better than you merely tolerating the company of a lonely man.
[ There's a soft, throaty laugh as his eyes return to the tea -- tracing the tendrils of vapor as they rise up into the air. ]
Hm, I know! I love trying new recipes and I can tell you have quite the discerning palate -- so what if I cooked you dinner once a week and you gave me your feedback? You can criticize me as harsh and brutally as you wish -- the lore is not nearly as discerning!
[At Maruki's proposition, Vergil spares a glance in the direction of the gifted soba that he's yet to even touch. He likely wasn't trying to seek Vergil's consent for something as extensive as his opinions on the food, but Vergil finds it likely that his acceptance or rejection of the soba would have served as some form of consent for a similar arrangement. It brings to alert some old instincts quickly because it seems a great deal of effort for...? That's the part Vergil finds himself having a difficult time making sense of no matter how hard he tries. Maruki hasn't made his intentions known at all even if Vergil has the sense that if he were to call him out on it, he'd deny that being the case. But it is. The devil knows it for certain because whatever intentions Vergil speculates upon aloud, Maruki doesn't deny them. But neither does he truly acknowledge it as the reason either.]
[Vergil hums thoughtfully.]
Very well. [He looks at Maruki. He doesn't know this man's intentions truly. Not enough to completely rule him out as a potential threat that Vergil cannot see just yet because of his own assumptions. But it's better to keep someone like this closer at his own choice than the alternative.] Once a week.
[Vergil meant what he said about not being one for pity, and he's not about to tolerate several meals per week being provided to him. He also lets his tone imply this counts for this week before Maruki goes and gets any ideas.]
[Vergil hums thoughtfully.]
Very well. [He looks at Maruki. He doesn't know this man's intentions truly. Not enough to completely rule him out as a potential threat that Vergil cannot see just yet because of his own assumptions. But it's better to keep someone like this closer at his own choice than the alternative.] Once a week.
[Vergil meant what he said about not being one for pity, and he's not about to tolerate several meals per week being provided to him. He also lets his tone imply this counts for this week before Maruki goes and gets any ideas.]
The convenient matter of Vergil living in the mostly popular location in Folkmore, an apartment complex in Epiphany, is that it makes it relatively easy to track him down. Mizu's mostly healed when she comes to his door, well enough she could fight him then and there, if she went without one key element to her weaponry, the ability to transform her sword into a naginata. Part of her wants to fight today, but she doesn't expect it and hasn't set her hopes on it. That would be the way to get disappointed.
Mizu knocks dressed as she always is, though this version of her outfit has never been chewed up on one side. There's the chance he isn't home. Mizu doesn't know his hours, his comings and goings. She can always come back again.
Mizu knocks dressed as she always is, though this version of her outfit has never been chewed up on one side. There's the chance he isn't home. Mizu doesn't know his hours, his comings and goings. She can always come back again.
Vergil's leg comes to a perfect stop just before connecting with the heavy bag at the sound of a knock at his door. He stays like that for a moment longer, listening carefully to see if it's really at his door. Few people ever visit the half-devil and he knows it's not time for his weekly visitor to bring by the usual excess amount of food. It wouldn't be out of the question that a neighbor had a visitor instead and there will either be another knock or the sound of a door opening soon after. When nothing else comes, Vergil lowers his leg with a sigh, setting his foot back down in a smooth motion, intent on minimizing any sort of sway and firmly maintaining his balance. At least if there's to be a disruption, it was before he was really able to properly start with his training, he supposes.
He pads his way barefoot to the front door from the living area he designated for training and practice rather than entertaining company, his approaching footsteps likely still audible on the other side of the door. When he opens the door, Mizu is greeted by both a familiar and unfamiliar sight. One the one hand, Vergil's stern expression has gone absolutely nowhere. The mild irritation at being disturbed persists until Vergil realizes it's Mizu. Even then, it's not as though his expression suddenly becomes one of immense warmth. On the other hand, Vergil is significantly dressed down with only handwraps and loose sweatpants on. Even if Mizu couldn't necessarily piece together he was likely about to start training, it's clear Vergil wasn't expecting him.
"Let me guess," he says, "you've come for your tools."
He doesn't wait for him to answer, stepping back inside his studio apartment and leaving the door open. Vergil assumes Mizu following is dependent upon what he wants to do rather than the presence of an invitation. It makes little difference to Vergil either way. Akin to Mizu's cabin in Wintermute, there isn't much by way of personal effects in Vergil's apartment. Past the small entryway wherein there's a door for the bathroom and a closet, a bookcase at the foot of the bed demarcates a place to sleep from the training area. Just outside the kitchen, pressed against the wall is a table with only two chairs. One of the chairs isn't pushed in and instead has its back also against the wall. Its position allows for looking out over the whole of the apartment and out the balcony glass doors. Everything about the arrangement of Vergil's place seems to serve some practical purpose and beyond the books on the shelf, the only real personal touches seem to be some of Vergil's training equipment, an amulet with a palm-sized gem on a nightstand, and a few potted plants that seem to be adequately cared for near the balcony door.
Vergil makes his way over to the wardrobe in his sleeping area, sliding it open.
"How are your wounds?"
He pads his way barefoot to the front door from the living area he designated for training and practice rather than entertaining company, his approaching footsteps likely still audible on the other side of the door. When he opens the door, Mizu is greeted by both a familiar and unfamiliar sight. One the one hand, Vergil's stern expression has gone absolutely nowhere. The mild irritation at being disturbed persists until Vergil realizes it's Mizu. Even then, it's not as though his expression suddenly becomes one of immense warmth. On the other hand, Vergil is significantly dressed down with only handwraps and loose sweatpants on. Even if Mizu couldn't necessarily piece together he was likely about to start training, it's clear Vergil wasn't expecting him.
"Let me guess," he says, "you've come for your tools."
He doesn't wait for him to answer, stepping back inside his studio apartment and leaving the door open. Vergil assumes Mizu following is dependent upon what he wants to do rather than the presence of an invitation. It makes little difference to Vergil either way. Akin to Mizu's cabin in Wintermute, there isn't much by way of personal effects in Vergil's apartment. Past the small entryway wherein there's a door for the bathroom and a closet, a bookcase at the foot of the bed demarcates a place to sleep from the training area. Just outside the kitchen, pressed against the wall is a table with only two chairs. One of the chairs isn't pushed in and instead has its back also against the wall. Its position allows for looking out over the whole of the apartment and out the balcony glass doors. Everything about the arrangement of Vergil's place seems to serve some practical purpose and beyond the books on the shelf, the only real personal touches seem to be some of Vergil's training equipment, an amulet with a palm-sized gem on a nightstand, and a few potted plants that seem to be adequately cared for near the balcony door.
Vergil makes his way over to the wardrobe in his sleeping area, sliding it open.
"How are your wounds?"
The near lack of clothes catches Mizu off guard. His change on recognizing her speaks to not knowing Mizu was the one at the door. It could have been someone else, yet he didn't take the time to dress before answering the door. It's not like she approached a teahouse where men are sometimes shoved out naked with their clothes thrown after them. Nor is it a kami festival where everyone jumps naked into the sea. Yet he's far from the first person Mizu has seen in a state of undress, so it isn't terribly shocking. Only unexpected.
Pants like his would be more useful than the clothing Thirteen gave Mizu that Mizu... ignored. Those clothes were men's clothes, but they were men's clothes for court, and Mizu has no reason to wear anything that fancy. She closes the door behind her and checks out the rest of the living space, if it can really be called that.
"My tools, yes, though I wouldn't mind a light round or two," Mizu smiles a little at that. If she's not the only one going without a weapon, fair is fair. "They're mostly recovered. I didn't want to wait longer to get my tools or we'd be delayed." She crosses her arms, leaning against the wall, muttering, "I've already waited longer than I'd like."
Pants like his would be more useful than the clothing Thirteen gave Mizu that Mizu... ignored. Those clothes were men's clothes, but they were men's clothes for court, and Mizu has no reason to wear anything that fancy. She closes the door behind her and checks out the rest of the living space, if it can really be called that.
"My tools, yes, though I wouldn't mind a light round or two," Mizu smiles a little at that. If she's not the only one going without a weapon, fair is fair. "They're mostly recovered. I didn't want to wait longer to get my tools or we'd be delayed." She crosses her arms, leaning against the wall, muttering, "I've already waited longer than I'd like."
With his back to Mizu, Vergil quirks a brief smile at the mention of a round or two. He feels safe in the assumption that constitutes a light round to the two of them probably isn't the same for others. He reaches to the top shelf within his wardrobe and pulls down the tools from where they've been carefully tucked away. In truth, it had taken some time for Vergil to find the set. Vergil doesn't know the first thing about smithing, but he wouldn't present something not to Mizu's standards. He took his time in doing a bit of research before making the purchase to be certain he wasn't about to be swindled and provide Mizu with tools that would only hinder his craft in the end. He also threw in a little extra to be certain they had an appropriate pack for easy transportation and maintenance.
"That eager to lose, are you?" he says, sliding the wardrobe shut. He continues as he makes his way back over to Mizu, "I should tell you to take your tools and leave. Mostly recovered isn't recovered, and defeating you when you're still injured won't mean much otherwise."
Vergil hesitates for a moment before he holds the pack of tools out to Mizu by the straps.
"Then again, you have interrupted my training. And if you wish to take the place of the heavy bag for the day, who am I to deny you?"
As much as he's tried not to view humans as fragile, inferior beings, he can't entirely deny his own impatience for Mizu's injuries to heal sufficiently. There hasn't been any who provided Vergil the same sort of thrill as their fight in Wintermute, and he's almost find himself craving it. He hasn't... Well, he wouldn't say exactly he's been antsy to fight Mizu again, but there have been some days and nights where he's felt himself tempted to find him again. Vergil always talked himself down though because it wasn't the agreement and Mizu needed time to heal. He had to exert patience that usually came naturally and easily to him.
"That eager to lose, are you?" he says, sliding the wardrobe shut. He continues as he makes his way back over to Mizu, "I should tell you to take your tools and leave. Mostly recovered isn't recovered, and defeating you when you're still injured won't mean much otherwise."
Vergil hesitates for a moment before he holds the pack of tools out to Mizu by the straps.
"Then again, you have interrupted my training. And if you wish to take the place of the heavy bag for the day, who am I to deny you?"
As much as he's tried not to view humans as fragile, inferior beings, he can't entirely deny his own impatience for Mizu's injuries to heal sufficiently. There hasn't been any who provided Vergil the same sort of thrill as their fight in Wintermute, and he's almost find himself craving it. He hasn't... Well, he wouldn't say exactly he's been antsy to fight Mizu again, but there have been some days and nights where he's felt himself tempted to find him again. Vergil always talked himself down though because it wasn't the agreement and Mizu needed time to heal. He had to exert patience that usually came naturally and easily to him.
Most men talk a good game, from the most foolhardy apprentice to the master duelist to an assassin and beyond. Words aren't how you tell the seasoned from the unseasoned. It's in their stance, their moves, and Mizu's seen enough of Vergil's to know he can back them up. All the same, they are fighting words, and her stance shifts ever so slightly. Balanced weight, light on her feet, and ready to spring into action. Should his stance shift, Mizu will be ready for it.
Only to receive the tools and to scowl at the idea beating her like this wouldn't mean much. She's barely injured! In far better shape than when she infiltrated Fowler's castle, much less when she reached the top and faced him for the first time. Mizu stares defiantly at Vergil, convinced well enough of her own value. She has to be able to fight in any condition, not simply at full health. Life doesn't wait. She has half a mind to attack Vergil as he is, though she knows he's not as empty handed as he looks, as most people would be. Not while she's holding the tools. Those are too valuable to risk damaging and to force her to find decent ones herself.
With care, Mizu sets the pack of tools down by the door, out of the way of the main area in the living space. She eyes the bag, quite incapable of fighting back, and harumphs. "You can take whatever handicap you wish," Mizu says, "to make it mean something."
She holds her sword by its sheath. "I take it we try to leave the walls standing." She's smiling.
Only to receive the tools and to scowl at the idea beating her like this wouldn't mean much. She's barely injured! In far better shape than when she infiltrated Fowler's castle, much less when she reached the top and faced him for the first time. Mizu stares defiantly at Vergil, convinced well enough of her own value. She has to be able to fight in any condition, not simply at full health. Life doesn't wait. She has half a mind to attack Vergil as he is, though she knows he's not as empty handed as he looks, as most people would be. Not while she's holding the tools. Those are too valuable to risk damaging and to force her to find decent ones herself.
With care, Mizu sets the pack of tools down by the door, out of the way of the main area in the living space. She eyes the bag, quite incapable of fighting back, and harumphs. "You can take whatever handicap you wish," Mizu says, "to make it mean something."
She holds her sword by its sheath. "I take it we try to leave the walls standing." She's smiling.
Although he doesn't disbelieve Mizu when he says that his injuries have mostly healed, Vergil is still mindful of how Mizu moves now. He watches closely for any twinges of pain or awkward movement that would suggest tight bindings were keeping wounds closed. But there's nothing in his movements that would suggest he's still carrying around any significant wounds.
"Anything broken or damaged is on you to repair or replace," Vergil teases. Most of the time, his jokes are likely difficult to discern considering his tone rarely ever shifts meaningfully enough to show it. But there's perhaps just enough of a smile on his face that it translates to his voice that he doesn't actually hold any expectations of Mizu doing anything of the sort. Vergil walks into his training area, bending down as he picks up a spare pair of handwraps. He tosses them in Mizu's direction. "No blades today if we have any hope of the building still standing by the time we're done."
"Anything broken or damaged is on you to repair or replace," Vergil teases. Most of the time, his jokes are likely difficult to discern considering his tone rarely ever shifts meaningfully enough to show it. But there's perhaps just enough of a smile on his face that it translates to his voice that he doesn't actually hold any expectations of Mizu doing anything of the sort. Vergil walks into his training area, bending down as he picks up a spare pair of handwraps. He tosses them in Mizu's direction. "No blades today if we have any hope of the building still standing by the time we're done."
One huff of a laugh comes out at the idea of Mizu paying to fix what they break. She's broken so many buildings across so many villages and towns. One more thing she leaves in her wake, along with the wounded and the dead. That reminds Mizu to purchase or remake the other supplies she brought with her to Fowler's castle—the explosive, the wire. As with the impenetrable fortress, she needs every trick and advantage she can over Vergil. Not today, no, but another day. Mizu catches the wraps Vergil throws and sets aside her sword, her cloak, and her hat hanging down her back. After a moment's consideration, she also removes the tinted glasses, folding them, and setting them beside the rest. Without them, it's clear her eyes are blue, her hideousness on display. Vergil hasn't given a damn about her looks, but if it causes problems, better it does so now, not in the middle of something.
She acts like it's nothing.
"You always use those fancy moves when you fight with a sword?" Mizu asks, mouth quirking up. She wraps her hands the way she sees his are, as she hasn't used them before. She trained alone for years, and in combat, the times she had to use her hands, it wasn't planned. No smooth transition. Even when she wrestled Taigen, it wasn't exactly planned. So she protects her hands, a first for that, and steps further into the room, the training area.
She acts like it's nothing.
"You always use those fancy moves when you fight with a sword?" Mizu asks, mouth quirking up. She wraps her hands the way she sees his are, as she hasn't used them before. She trained alone for years, and in combat, the times she had to use her hands, it wasn't planned. No smooth transition. Even when she wrestled Taigen, it wasn't exactly planned. So she protects her hands, a first for that, and steps further into the room, the training area.
Vergil was going to suggest Mizu remove his glasses if he hadn't already made the decision to do so himself. Although he notices just how strikingly blue Mizu's eyes are without the tint of the lenses—more akin to ice than the near-grayness of his own eyes—Vergil doesn't make any sort of comment about them nor does he otherwise gawk.
"Not always, no," Vergil replies as Mizu begins wrapping his hands. "The filth in the demon world aren't usually intelligent enough to merit that sort of effort."
A good portion of the demons one would face there are little more than beasts themselves. Their decisions are based on instinct more than careful decision-making. If they appear to be acting upon orders, it's like an illusion crafted by a more intelligent demon who understands their nature and instincts. The situation has most certainly been manipulated in those circumstances. The rest that one might commonly run into are only just barely intelligent enough to follow orders as the rank and file of a would-be army. But regardless of whether it's instinct or orders, Yamato has always dispatched them quickly with little need for Vergil's skills even when presenting themselves in numbers against him.
"But I am not the only one who would be a hazard to the structural integrity of the building with a blade in my hand." Mizu may not have the ability to summon blades or a clone of himself to fight in his stead, but raw power like that wasn't always indicative of how damage one could do. That burning fire in Mizu did plenty on its own from what Vergil had already seen with how he ultimately lost a bit of his control. Vergil rolls his shoulders as Mizu steps back into the training area. "Last time, I'll admit, you surprised me. I wasn't anticipating a brawl. But surprising me isn't the same as impressing me. I want to know if you can do better than that."
Unlike the last time they fought, Vergil doesn't merely stand there. This time he adopts a stance. Vergil turns himself slightly, positioning one leg behind and bringing the fist on the same side just below his chin while the other hovers around his waist.
"I know you don't particularly care about that though. I'm not a fool. I know my curiosity is for my own satisfaction. So, consider this an opportunity to learn and train."
It's not said with the sort of arrogance most might have and even Vergil could easily be accused of using frequently. Instead, it's an acknowledgment of what Mizu has mentioned before of watching how others fight and learning what he can from it. Vergil's certain there's something Mizu can learn today in the absence of a weapon and needing to rely upon his own body as a weapon if what happened last time was any indication. And unlike Mizu, Vergil has trained himself to fight just as well with his fists and feet even if his preference will always be with a sword in his hand.
"I won't hit you with the entirety of my strength." Vergil doesn't say this to condescend. Mizu's felt a bit of Vergil's strength the last time when he was able to fling the other swordsman with little effort on his part. If he were to strike Mizu with all his might, their sparring would be over in a single blow. Even if he managed to somehow not kill Mizu, at the very least, the other man would be out cold in an instant. He trusts Mizu to understand that, which is why he offers no clarification. "You are free to do as you wish."
It's not as though Vergil bruises easily or that he's an easy target to hit even in close quarters.
"Not always, no," Vergil replies as Mizu begins wrapping his hands. "The filth in the demon world aren't usually intelligent enough to merit that sort of effort."
A good portion of the demons one would face there are little more than beasts themselves. Their decisions are based on instinct more than careful decision-making. If they appear to be acting upon orders, it's like an illusion crafted by a more intelligent demon who understands their nature and instincts. The situation has most certainly been manipulated in those circumstances. The rest that one might commonly run into are only just barely intelligent enough to follow orders as the rank and file of a would-be army. But regardless of whether it's instinct or orders, Yamato has always dispatched them quickly with little need for Vergil's skills even when presenting themselves in numbers against him.
"But I am not the only one who would be a hazard to the structural integrity of the building with a blade in my hand." Mizu may not have the ability to summon blades or a clone of himself to fight in his stead, but raw power like that wasn't always indicative of how damage one could do. That burning fire in Mizu did plenty on its own from what Vergil had already seen with how he ultimately lost a bit of his control. Vergil rolls his shoulders as Mizu steps back into the training area. "Last time, I'll admit, you surprised me. I wasn't anticipating a brawl. But surprising me isn't the same as impressing me. I want to know if you can do better than that."
Unlike the last time they fought, Vergil doesn't merely stand there. This time he adopts a stance. Vergil turns himself slightly, positioning one leg behind and bringing the fist on the same side just below his chin while the other hovers around his waist.
"I know you don't particularly care about that though. I'm not a fool. I know my curiosity is for my own satisfaction. So, consider this an opportunity to learn and train."
It's not said with the sort of arrogance most might have and even Vergil could easily be accused of using frequently. Instead, it's an acknowledgment of what Mizu has mentioned before of watching how others fight and learning what he can from it. Vergil's certain there's something Mizu can learn today in the absence of a weapon and needing to rely upon his own body as a weapon if what happened last time was any indication. And unlike Mizu, Vergil has trained himself to fight just as well with his fists and feet even if his preference will always be with a sword in his hand.
"I won't hit you with the entirety of my strength." Vergil doesn't say this to condescend. Mizu's felt a bit of Vergil's strength the last time when he was able to fling the other swordsman with little effort on his part. If he were to strike Mizu with all his might, their sparring would be over in a single blow. Even if he managed to somehow not kill Mizu, at the very least, the other man would be out cold in an instant. He trusts Mizu to understand that, which is why he offers no clarification. "You are free to do as you wish."
It's not as though Vergil bruises easily or that he's an easy target to hit even in close quarters.
Mizu manages not to roll her eyes at the comment about surprising Vergil not impressing him. About wanting to know if she can do better. So long as he continues to spar and fight with her, Mizu doesn't need his good opinion. She's past wanting people to think well of her. Disappointment and pain are the only things to come of that. A small pang at the thought. Ringo's rejection and cold shoulder. Someone whose opinion she never thought would matter.
Vergil, thankfully, knows that too. Knows his opinion doesn't matter. That makes everything far more acceptable. Tolerable. Comfortable even. As much as Mizu goes everywhere with a sword, it is possible to be caught without it, to have to fight without it. Mizu resists the urge to grab something else to act as a weapon. She's weaker than Vergil. A pure contest of might would go his way. As much as Mizu hates to admit it, even without him using his full strength, it could. No she must use more than that. She must use his strength against him. "You might take down a wall if you did that."
Then he'd have an issue with his neighbor. Not Mizu, though.
She shifts into a stance, adapting from one meant to have a sword, because Mizu has never trained particularly to fight without weapons. Some techniques have come over time. A move here. Another there. The focus, however, has always been swords. Still, she has some experience. She pinned Taigen. Repeatedly.
Mizu closes the gap. A jab. A feint. A move to sweep his front leg out from under him. It isn't a brawl, but Mizu doesn't fight clean either.
Vergil, thankfully, knows that too. Knows his opinion doesn't matter. That makes everything far more acceptable. Tolerable. Comfortable even. As much as Mizu goes everywhere with a sword, it is possible to be caught without it, to have to fight without it. Mizu resists the urge to grab something else to act as a weapon. She's weaker than Vergil. A pure contest of might would go his way. As much as Mizu hates to admit it, even without him using his full strength, it could. No she must use more than that. She must use his strength against him. "You might take down a wall if you did that."
Then he'd have an issue with his neighbor. Not Mizu, though.
She shifts into a stance, adapting from one meant to have a sword, because Mizu has never trained particularly to fight without weapons. Some techniques have come over time. A move here. Another there. The focus, however, has always been swords. Still, she has some experience. She pinned Taigen. Repeatedly.
Mizu closes the gap. A jab. A feint. A move to sweep his front leg out from under him. It isn't a brawl, but Mizu doesn't fight clean either.
Starting from where he knows what to do isn't a bad tactic. The principles aren't altogether dissimilar when it comes to what's important to protect and how to balance offense with defense. It's interesting to watch, too, if Vergil is honest. Without a weapon in his hand, Mizu is immediately forced to adapt and modify. He can't be at the other end of a sword, but must approach far closer if he has any hope of hitting his mark.
It's not a bad attempt. The thought process is correct, in any case, by Vergil's assessment since he doesn't find the attempted sweep to be fighting dirty. Instead, it's a clear strategy. A jab or two to keep an opponent's attention on protecting their head or torso leaves them significantly more vulnerable to any strikes against their legs usually. It might alter their stance just enough that it will send them stumbling even if it can't actually knock them to the ground. But Vergil is naturally heavier than Mizu and his weight doesn't shift back from that front leg nearly enough to send him crashing to the floor or even remotely stumbling after he slaps away Mizu's initial jab.
His swift response somewhat mirrors Mizu's attempt, but with a more disciplined approach rather than the improvisation that Mizu is using. Vergil lashes out twice with his fists to Mizu's torso, and once with an elbow toward his head. It matters little to him if any of his blows land, however, as the real threat is Vergil's back leg. Vergil steps forward with the small flurry, leading him into a vicious kick wherein he attempts to slam his shin directly into Mizu's outer thigh just above his knee joint to destabilize him. If the kick lands, Mizu will either need to stumble and regain his balance, or he will end up on the floor with the force of Vergil's kick alone. After all, Vergil said this was an opportunity to learn.
He never once said the lessons would be gentle.
Then again, it isn't entirely like their last fight for that reason. Vergil isn't seeking to dominate. As he said before, he's not interested in defeating Mizu without Mizu being at his best. There would be time for a proper rematch later. Right here and now, Vergil is more invested in teaching Mizu. He can't exactly see what Mizu learns from a lesson if he's not allowed to demonstrate what he will do with what he's learned. Thus, regardless of the outcome of his assault, Vergil doesn't seek out another attack on Mizu immediately. If he ends up on the ground, Vergil won't offer a hand to avoid insult or misinterpretation, but he gives Mizu the space to get up again. If he stumbles, Vergil lets him regain his footing without further interference. If he manages to avoid it altogether, Vergil lets Mizu close the gap again with his next attempt.
It's not a bad attempt. The thought process is correct, in any case, by Vergil's assessment since he doesn't find the attempted sweep to be fighting dirty. Instead, it's a clear strategy. A jab or two to keep an opponent's attention on protecting their head or torso leaves them significantly more vulnerable to any strikes against their legs usually. It might alter their stance just enough that it will send them stumbling even if it can't actually knock them to the ground. But Vergil is naturally heavier than Mizu and his weight doesn't shift back from that front leg nearly enough to send him crashing to the floor or even remotely stumbling after he slaps away Mizu's initial jab.
His swift response somewhat mirrors Mizu's attempt, but with a more disciplined approach rather than the improvisation that Mizu is using. Vergil lashes out twice with his fists to Mizu's torso, and once with an elbow toward his head. It matters little to him if any of his blows land, however, as the real threat is Vergil's back leg. Vergil steps forward with the small flurry, leading him into a vicious kick wherein he attempts to slam his shin directly into Mizu's outer thigh just above his knee joint to destabilize him. If the kick lands, Mizu will either need to stumble and regain his balance, or he will end up on the floor with the force of Vergil's kick alone. After all, Vergil said this was an opportunity to learn.
He never once said the lessons would be gentle.
Then again, it isn't entirely like their last fight for that reason. Vergil isn't seeking to dominate. As he said before, he's not interested in defeating Mizu without Mizu being at his best. There would be time for a proper rematch later. Right here and now, Vergil is more invested in teaching Mizu. He can't exactly see what Mizu learns from a lesson if he's not allowed to demonstrate what he will do with what he's learned. Thus, regardless of the outcome of his assault, Vergil doesn't seek out another attack on Mizu immediately. If he ends up on the ground, Vergil won't offer a hand to avoid insult or misinterpretation, but he gives Mizu the space to get up again. If he stumbles, Vergil lets him regain his footing without further interference. If he manages to avoid it altogether, Vergil lets Mizu close the gap again with his next attempt.
It doesn't matter that it doesn't work. Mizu's excited about the fight regardless. The cleared space provides less of an environment to use against Vergil. No matter. There's little time to think about it as Vergil mirrors her attacks. The blows have to be guided away and avoided so that his own strength becomes her advantage, not something to stop by force. She'd wind up bruised and beaten quickly in that case. That part goes well. Well enough. Mizu's going for survival, for giving her best against Vergil while at a disadvantage, not to be sung praises by some dojo master.
The kick doesn't surprise her. She tried the same thing. However, the close fighting means she cannot easily avoid the kick altogether. Without time to think about it, sure Vergil is used to any and all responses to it, Mizu feels it connect, feels herself slide a couple inches across the floor, and rolls with the direction of the force. Down to the floor and, not being followed there by any additional attacks, back up again. Her eyes narrow at the purposeful way Vergil gives her time, but he can do what he wants. She won't be the sore fool who hates something simply because he's the weaker opponent, in strength, in experience, or in training.
The trouble with some of the kicks or slides, on her side, is that her strength isn't enough to bring him down. It would be best to injure or immobilize one of his limbs. Her attacks this time aim toward his joints. The inside of his elbow. His knee. Moves that if hit right could shatter them. Her expectations aren't high, but she commits to the moves nonetheless.
The kick doesn't surprise her. She tried the same thing. However, the close fighting means she cannot easily avoid the kick altogether. Without time to think about it, sure Vergil is used to any and all responses to it, Mizu feels it connect, feels herself slide a couple inches across the floor, and rolls with the direction of the force. Down to the floor and, not being followed there by any additional attacks, back up again. Her eyes narrow at the purposeful way Vergil gives her time, but he can do what he wants. She won't be the sore fool who hates something simply because he's the weaker opponent, in strength, in experience, or in training.
The trouble with some of the kicks or slides, on her side, is that her strength isn't enough to bring him down. It would be best to injure or immobilize one of his limbs. Her attacks this time aim toward his joints. The inside of his elbow. His knee. Moves that if hit right could shatter them. Her expectations aren't high, but she commits to the moves nonetheless.
If Mizu were to strike true and with enough force, Vergil's body would mend itself too quickly to give Mizu an advantage for long. Thus, he could just take the hit and quickly recover, but Vergil would rather not. For one, it's not as though Vergil's tolerance for pain is so high that he wouldn't feel it at all. For another, any opponent Mizu faced off with wouldn't exactly allow him to do something like that. Their bodies wouldn't heal like Vergil's and it wouldn't be a simple training spar between them. An attack like that would be potentially a finisher in those circumstances. So, Mizu commits to the attempt at immobilizing one or more of his limbs, but Vergil remains a difficult target. When he's not adopting more defensive stances—such as drawing his arms close to his torso with elbows bent at times to prevent access—he's also quick to shuffle back so that attempts at his knees land elsewhere on his leg.
Eventually, it's during one of these attempts that Vergil forces the kick to connect with his thigh and before Mizu can retract his leg he grabs Mizu's calf. He could maintain a vice grip on Mizu's leg at that point if he really wanted, leaving Mizu with few options for trying to wriggle free. He could also simply sweep Mizu's remaining foot and send him to the floor immediately. But neither of those are the plan. Instead, Vergil aims a cross jab for Mizu's jaw as he pulls on Mizu's leg, drawing him closer and into the punch. Shortly thereafter, Vergil tosses Mizu's leg aside, forcing a continued downward momentum on him. Vergil fists a hand in Mizu's hair and the other at the scruff of his kimono to pull him further in that direction before slamming his knee up towards Mizu's solar plexus with more than enough force to wind Mizu. If the strike connects, Vergil releases Mizu and allows him the space to catch his breath. If not, Vergil follows with a kick that is meant to push Mizu back regardless of connection or not.
"You're thinking too much like a swordsman," he says, the statement a neutral observation rather than some form of condescension or otherwise negative evaluation. Vergil didn't exactly anticipate Mizu to approach this fight any different than he would crossing blades with someone else. He continues, "Steel equalizes. It doesn't care about my size or my strength. I bleed the same as you."
Vergil doesn't spell it out further than that for Mizu, trusting that he at least understand the point that unrelenting attacks aren't going to serve him well in this. When it's a clashing of blades, reclaiming the offense has to be done with extreme care. A poorly timed or executed attempt is how one might find themselves run through and the fight over for a less durable opponent than Vergil. But in a fight like this where Vergil is larger and stronger, he can easily weather a strike and respond with a ferocious counter of his own. In the end, constantly strike at Vergil creates vulnerabilities that Vergil can and already has taken advantage of to strike back without too much concern. Provided that Mizu understands this, it's up to him what he does with that information as far as Vergil is concerned.
Eventually, it's during one of these attempts that Vergil forces the kick to connect with his thigh and before Mizu can retract his leg he grabs Mizu's calf. He could maintain a vice grip on Mizu's leg at that point if he really wanted, leaving Mizu with few options for trying to wriggle free. He could also simply sweep Mizu's remaining foot and send him to the floor immediately. But neither of those are the plan. Instead, Vergil aims a cross jab for Mizu's jaw as he pulls on Mizu's leg, drawing him closer and into the punch. Shortly thereafter, Vergil tosses Mizu's leg aside, forcing a continued downward momentum on him. Vergil fists a hand in Mizu's hair and the other at the scruff of his kimono to pull him further in that direction before slamming his knee up towards Mizu's solar plexus with more than enough force to wind Mizu. If the strike connects, Vergil releases Mizu and allows him the space to catch his breath. If not, Vergil follows with a kick that is meant to push Mizu back regardless of connection or not.
"You're thinking too much like a swordsman," he says, the statement a neutral observation rather than some form of condescension or otherwise negative evaluation. Vergil didn't exactly anticipate Mizu to approach this fight any different than he would crossing blades with someone else. He continues, "Steel equalizes. It doesn't care about my size or my strength. I bleed the same as you."
Vergil doesn't spell it out further than that for Mizu, trusting that he at least understand the point that unrelenting attacks aren't going to serve him well in this. When it's a clashing of blades, reclaiming the offense has to be done with extreme care. A poorly timed or executed attempt is how one might find themselves run through and the fight over for a less durable opponent than Vergil. But in a fight like this where Vergil is larger and stronger, he can easily weather a strike and respond with a ferocious counter of his own. In the end, constantly strike at Vergil creates vulnerabilities that Vergil can and already has taken advantage of to strike back without too much concern. Provided that Mizu understands this, it's up to him what he does with that information as far as Vergil is concerned.
Mizu growls even as she accepts the reality of how much leverage Vergil's hold on her calf gives him. She doesn't fight the grip, all too aware how strong it is and simmering controlled rage. She takes the hit to her jaw but twists and regains her balance enough, even as it pulls at her hair and her kimono, to avoid the knee. They separate, when she would rather tackle Vergil to the floor and pull him against her with an arm around his neck until he passed out. She breathes hard and stares as intently at him.
She's been in hand to hand combat before, usually with stronger men than she even if they aren't as strong as Vergil, but they too have been swordsmen and think like them. She's gotten the better of them. Vergil is better, not relying solely on his strength or his healing to get his way, though he used that strength to an irritating point with beautiful technique just now. It could have come earlier. It could come any time.
Mizu wipes one hand across her face and pulls her kimono into place. Oh, she doesn't need to be tidy, but she doesn't want to reveal the bandages across her chest. Vergil might not take its meaning correctly. Instead he could stop the fight because he thinks she's still healing, but in time, if it comes up enough times, he might figure it out. Let him think she cares about her appearance, as she considers how best to attack him.
Her posture returns to a relaxed and ready position. Mizu stares at and into Vergil with the same intensity as the start of a duel. Move and counterattack predicted. An adjustment in her stance. Again. And again. And again. It plays out far more times in her head than between them. Generally not in her favor. To a fault, once fighting, Mizu is not content to sit back and let her opponent come to her. However, she manages to mentally reset. The start of a new fight. Her hands itch for a blade, a wire, something, but she refuses the idea that she must have one of those to defeat Vergil. It's possible to defeat him, even if she does not manage it today. Not that Mizu's given up. Far from it, the desire to defeat Vergil thrums through her with each beat of her heart.
Mizu attacks with the intention of using his reactions or attacks to move behind him and strangle him. It would go too far to try to break his neck.
She's been in hand to hand combat before, usually with stronger men than she even if they aren't as strong as Vergil, but they too have been swordsmen and think like them. She's gotten the better of them. Vergil is better, not relying solely on his strength or his healing to get his way, though he used that strength to an irritating point with beautiful technique just now. It could have come earlier. It could come any time.
Mizu wipes one hand across her face and pulls her kimono into place. Oh, she doesn't need to be tidy, but she doesn't want to reveal the bandages across her chest. Vergil might not take its meaning correctly. Instead he could stop the fight because he thinks she's still healing, but in time, if it comes up enough times, he might figure it out. Let him think she cares about her appearance, as she considers how best to attack him.
Her posture returns to a relaxed and ready position. Mizu stares at and into Vergil with the same intensity as the start of a duel. Move and counterattack predicted. An adjustment in her stance. Again. And again. And again. It plays out far more times in her head than between them. Generally not in her favor. To a fault, once fighting, Mizu is not content to sit back and let her opponent come to her. However, she manages to mentally reset. The start of a new fight. Her hands itch for a blade, a wire, something, but she refuses the idea that she must have one of those to defeat Vergil. It's possible to defeat him, even if she does not manage it today. Not that Mizu's given up. Far from it, the desire to defeat Vergil thrums through her with each beat of her heart.
Mizu attacks with the intention of using his reactions or attacks to move behind him and strangle him. It would go too far to try to break his neck.
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