EP: Sunset Chat

"What do you think of that girl?"

The crimson sunset had already touched the sea level. Wearing sunglasses as he admired the sunset on the sea, Dante rested a foot on the yacht's helm and questioned the passenger behind him.

It had all happened so suddenly that this time he had not even had the chance to gather his other companions before rushing onto a plane. After landing, he had gone straight to the docks to rent a boat and reached the island as quickly as possible. Even so, he had still failed to make it in time for the final act of the whole show.

"What do you mean?"

Trish lay lazily in the cabin and answered offhandedly.

"Her personality. What else would I mean? This is the first time I've seen such a... traditional kid."

"Isn't that fine? Compared with a certain someone, anyway. Being a little traditional isn't a bad thing."

Dante stretched and sighed. "I just find it incredible. You know, ever since my father, our family's always produced more than its share of libertines. If not for Nero, I would've thought my brother hadn't inherited that gene."

"Maybe she takes after your mother more?" Trish teased him. "After all, she doesn't have silver hair. She's blond."

The subject immediately made Dante awkward. "Hey! I'll admit she does look a bit like my mom, just like you. But she's too young. I mean..."

"But she is indeed a member of the Sparda Family."

Trish cut Dante off and steered the topic back on track. "What you saw was only the part of her she shows on the outside. I think... the way she looked when she drew Yamato and turned silver-haired was closer to her essence."

"Turned silver-haired? The instant she drew the blade?"

Dante let out a strange cry. "Good God! That's practically like a comic book!"

Trish, who knew Dante was secretly a shut-in who liked reading comics and eating desserts, was not surprised. "Say what you like. But after that child got into her state, she looked just like an opera actor stepping onto the stage."

"Then wasn't it a real shame I didn't see it?"

"Yes. I seem to recall you watch opera now and then too."

Standing on the boat, Dante made an exaggerated bow. "The rest is silence."

"From Hamlet," Trish commented. "It's just a little too frivolous. It doesn't quite match the weight of that line. You like Shakespeare?"

"My Old Man used to like Shakespeare." Dante straightened and smiled. "He even had a treasured collection of Shakespearean Play Scripts at home... I didn't like reading books that were nothing but words, but my brother did."

"I don't think I've ever heard you mention that. Sounds like he was a literary youth?"

"...But later, he changed."

Trish lifted her brows and did not answer. The vibration of the yacht's engine echoed over the tranquil sea surface.

"All right, we've gotten a little off topic."

A moment later, Dante spread his hands and broke the somewhat gloomy atmosphere. "So from the looks of it, this little girl inherited that side of my brother?"

"Maybe," Trish said noncommittally. "But if you ask me, the atmosphere of that little town behind us could only raise either pious believers or blasphemers."

"Too bad I don't like either kind." Dante smiled. "In my whole life, whenever religion's been involved, I've never run into a single good thing. And there's one thing I think is off."

"Oh?" Trish sat up in the cabin and asked, "Let's hear it."

"Nero grew up in that little town, but as far as I can see, she neither truly believes in God, nor is she obviously a blasphemer."

"She is the Son of God. She has to be a little special, doesn't she?"

"Hey! We agreed not to bring up the Son of God thing!"

"That applied to you."

At that, Dante had nothing to say. So he shook his head and said, "In any case, it has nothing to do with the Son of God... She doesn't believe in Sparda because she has already seen the real Sparda."

"That sounds like slander against your father."

Dante shook his head again. "No, it's praise. Although I don't know how Nero managed it... she really did pass through the Statue of God shaped by that Order and saw the true side of Sparda."

Trish looked at him a little strangely and asked, "You can even tell that?"

"Because I went through that stage too," Dante answered with a loud laugh. "Right, about the gift I'm planning to give her..."

"Gilgamesh has been given, and Yamato has been handed over..." Trish shrugged, tilted her head, and asked, "Do you have anything else presentable?"

"Don't look down on my museum! Though I really don't plan to give her anything demon-related anymore."

"Don't tell me you want to..."

"Give her our signboard. How about it?"

"It's 'your' signboard," Trish retorted, then asked, "But what use would she have for that thing? Didn't Lady also say the knights of their Order are pretty good at hunting demons?"

"I was still a little hesitant at first, but after hearing you say that, now I know."

"Know what?"

"Know that sooner or later, she'll leave that island." Dante whistled toward another yacht not far away, then waved—this meant they should be able to dock before long.

"Is that so?"

"The people on that island are quite afraid of demons, and the Demonic Aura on Nero is probably hard to conceal. In order not to cause trouble for those two people you mentioned, she'll naturally choose to keep her distance—that's the first reason."

"And the second?"

"Just like you said, she really is a Sparda."

Trish got up, climbed over the back of the chair, turned her head to look at Dante's profile, and asked, "What kind of reason is that?"

"A place that dull and dead could never hold a true Heart of Sparda," Dante said with a smile, a teasing note entering his voice. "They say my father was once its lord, and that's why that sentence is in the past tense."

"Sounds nice, at least."

Trish drew back and leaned into her seat. "But all I see is that 'Heart of Sparda' of yours slowly rotting away in comics and desserts."

"I have to say, Trish, that's slander."

Dante retorted unhappily, "Hasn't my life been eventful enough?"

"Wasn't that because you were forced into it? If I hadn't told you about Nero this time, wouldn't you still be growing mold in your office?"

"Everyone needs a change of pace! When Nero leaves the island in the future, won't she still go back to visit regularly?"

"You'd better get a normal schedule first before you start talking about changes of pace."

Amid their harmonious bickering, the yacht slowly headed toward the shore not far away.

Night fell, and Fortuna Town, left behind in their wake, slowly sank into sleep. The turmoil within the Order had barely disturbed this place at all. It was still the same quiet, devout, ascetic-monk-style Fortuna.

In a home where, unusually, an electric lamp hung by the door, two people burning with anxiety finally heard a soft sound from the entrance.

A girl with blonde hair and blue eyes looked at them, gave a light laugh, waved, and said, "I'm back."