A/N: Busy month. Examinations are the death of me. I wish I can lose my memory too and have a good excuse to skip school.

[We Aren't Twins]

Vergil Sparda wasn't sure at all what had happened, but he knew that his head felt heavy and his body was stiff when he woke up to the smell of disinfectant. The white ceiling that filled his vision was unfamiliar, and the bed felt slightly uncomfortable beneath him. Blinking blankly and not bothering to move, Vergil tried to piece a puzzle in his mind as to how he had come to arrive here... and could not connect any dots.

In fact, Vergil realized that he could not even remember his name. Trying to come up with images or memories seemed to come up with blanks no matter how hard he tried.

A movement took his attention and he tilted his head slightly towards the side, not surprised at all to see a woman dressed in a long white coat approaching him with a board in her hand, stethoscope hung lightly around her neck.

"Good evening, Mr Sparda. It is good to see that you are awake. How are you feeling?" The woman greeted, meeting eye contact with him in the clear meaning that she was addressing him.

Vergil still didn't bother to move to sit up as he stared up at the doctor who had positioned herself at the side of his bed, keeping strong eye contact with him while looking down at him from her height.

"My name is Sparda?" He asked, and that question didn't seem to surprise the doctor at all, though she gave a slight frown.

"You don't remember your name?" She asked.

"No."

"Do you remember anything at all, Mr Sparda?"

It was safe for Vergil to assume that he was this said 'Mr Sparda' as he replied with another stout "no".

"You were caught in a large explosion that happened downtown. You were blasted a good distance away from the centre of the explosion and hit against a wall on your head pretty hard. You went through eight hours on the surgery table, but your recovery has been remarkably fast. However, because you hit your head against a wall, there was a chance that you would wake up with amnesia."

"I have amnesia?" Vergil asked, not sure if he was surprised to hear it. It made sense; how he could not come up with any memories, but still strangely know simple knowledge like what amnesia was.

"Along with ten broken ribs, a cracked femur, dislocated shoulder and a broken arm when you came in." The doctor nodded. "But you healed up in your sleep, so I would like to ask for you to try moving yourself and see where still hurts. The hospital doesn't have many experience fixing up half-demons like you, so we are unsure about your rate of healing."

Shuffling the surprising information that he was a half-demon in his mind, Vergil quietly obeyed and was soon done with his assessment. The doctor quickly revealed that he had physically healed up very well –that his broken bones were all mended. Vergil was once more advised to keep the bandages on for at least a day more to allow the flesh wounds to close up properly, and then told that he could discharge as soon as he felt up to it.

"Doctor; wait." Vergil had finally sat up by now, feeling stiff and strange, but not hurting anywhere. The doctor paused by the open door, a hand on the handle, and turned backwards to look at the patient that she had just finished assessing.

"Yes, Mr. Sparda?"

"What is my name? My full name?"

The doctor supposed that it would have been a very weird question if she didn't know that he was an amnesiac patient. Still, there was pity in her eyes when she looked back down at the board in her hands.

"Your name is Vergil. Vergil Sparda. It is listed here that you have a brother as your emergency contact named Dante Sparda. You might want to wait for him to come pick you up." The doctor supplied helpfully, gave an encouraging smile and left the room.

________________________________________________________________________________

It was certainly interesting. Vergil Sparda put down the newspaper that he had been reading carefully, deciding that he had learnt enough from what the small-print, and largely-gossip paper could offer for him.

At the moment, at least he knew which country and town he was in. More importantly, Vergil was glad that he had apparently been a semi-famous demon-hunter in the small town before he lost his memories, because his accident the day before had been reported in the paper. In fact, there was even a picture of him bloodied, in a mess and completely unconscious being carried on a stretcher accompanied with the article. Though a little embarrassed that he had been caught in such a time weakness, Vergil had managed to get past the emotional barrier and got right down to reading the details of his own accident in a bid to find out more about himself.

According to the newspaper that had kindly paid him a little homage, Vergil Sparda was a well-known demon-hunter who was also the son of Sparda. Vergil's father was apparently a demon who was well received by humans, and thus Vergil's job as a demon-hunter was equally well received. The explosion accident the day before had apparently been caused by demons setting up a bomb. Vergil had been hired by the city mayor to clear out the demon infestation, and had called to report the job done seconds before the bomb detonated.

The article also reported that Dante Sparda –the name which Vergil recognised as his brother's name –was away in another town doing another job and would not be back to nurse his brother back to health in the next few days. It had ended with a rhetorical question of how a place called 'Devil May Cry' would survive without the watch of the sons of Sparda.

That was all Vergil learnt from the article about himself –that he was a son of Sparda, that he had been doing a job when he met with his accident, and that he lived in a place called Devil May Cry.

Since the article had clearly stated that his brother was out of town and would not be back in a few days, Vergil decided that it was useless for him to stay in the hospital waiting for someone to pick him up. Settling his own discharge was an easy work and soon Vergil had his possessions back –including a sword that was beautifully carved and very handy. Vergil had a sixth sense that the sword was one of his very prized possession, but could not come up with the appropriate memory to justify why it was so important to him.

Flagging a cab by the roadside felt like a natural movement to him, and he did not have to worry about finding his way around a town that now felt very unfamiliar to him since the cab driver seemed to know immediately where the said 'Devil May Cry' was. The ride was spent in silence as Vergil watched the scenery pass outside, hoping to find something that could perhaps cause a jolt in his memory. Unfortunately, none of it happened and Vergil paid the cab fare obediently when the destination was reached, and stepped out of the cab.

The street looked like a suburban residential area that had seen better days, but the building that Vergil stood in front of did not fit the picture of the street. With middle-sized dusty neon signs spelling the words 'Devil May Cry' in a cursive font hanging above the double doors, it was probably the cleanest thing that Vergil saw on the building. The windows were caked with layers of dust so thick that Vergil could not look through them. The door was stained with evidences of better days, and he could clearly see that its hinges had been badly abused by rough handling of the swinging doors.

The steps leading to the door were grey with dirty water marks, paired with countless boot marks. Vergil noted that the boot marks all seemed to originate from the same pair of boots –probably belonging to the owner of them who often walked in and out without a care for the stain on the concretized floor.

Vergil was definitely not the owner of those boots, because he was currently wearing a pair of smart-casual dress shoes.

A little sceptical that someone who was supposed to be semi-famous within the town for being a capable demon-hunter would be living in such a run-down building but having no other choice and no other clues of his memories, Vergil made up the steps towards the building, opening the unlocked doors with a simple push. If he and his brother Dante had been living here, they must have been living rather carelessly by leaving the door unlocked.

What made Vergil lose his words was the fact that even when he was met with the sight of a pig sty for a place that was supposed to be his place of stay, he still could not remember a single memory of living in this place. Was Devil May Cry really the place where he stayed? Or perhaps this was only an office for him to report to everyday. Surely Vergil did not live here with the pig who had made this sty?

Vergil did not –could not –remember lowering himself to associate with such a place of rotten decadence.

Unfortunately, it seemed like fate was out to prove him wrong, because when his eyes caught sight of a blue two-tailed coat sitting on the coat stand near the door, another sense of nostalgia filled him the same way it had happened when he carried his sword again. These two things were definitely things that mattered very much to him, and if the coat was sitting on this coat stand in this pig sty that was named Devil May Cry, Vergil supposed that he really had stayed in this place prior to his accident and memory loss.

Frowning at his choice of life before his memory loss –for whatever reason that Vergil must have forgotten by now –he waded his way through the mess of empty greasy pizza boxes and beer cans to a door which opened to a flight of stairs that led him to the second floor. He found a bathroom and two bedrooms upstairs, both with evidence of occupancy. Choosing one to investigate closer, Vergil eventually found more items that brought him a sense of nostalgia within the room.

The place was –unfortunately –his. He hadn't wanted to believe it when he had stood outside Devil May Cry looking in, but his sixth sense was telling him the truth –that this was place chosen place of accommodation. The only thing he took to solace was that his bedroom was much comparably clean to anywhere else within the building.

Still, hoping that he could jolt some memories loose from the tight lock that the accident had caused, Vergil began to search through his own belongings to find clues and hints of his own background.

He was so engrossed into rifling through his own things, trying to come up with a value of significance for all of them, that he was not aware of the sound of footsteps going on downstairs in Devil May Cry. Those footsteps made up the stairs, and the door slammed open.

Losing his memory seemed to not have dulled his reflexive instincts, because in the millisecond after the door had slammed open, Vergil found himself in a crouching position, the sword that had been at his side unsheathed, fitting nicely in his palm, and pointed right above the heart of the intruder at an angle perfect for penetration.

The intruder herself was no slack as she had both her guns pointed at Vergil; one at his forehead, and another at his heart.

Neither of them moved to attack each other as they met each other's eyes, then the lady in dark shades withdrew her guns.

"Vergil? You are discharged already?" She asked with slight surprise in her tone.

"I felt fine and the doctor said I had healed mostly. The bandages only come off tomorrow." Vergil answered. "Who might you be?"

The blunt question from him gives cause for the lady to remove her shades to meet his eyes curiously, a confused expression clearly written on her face.

"I lost my memory in the accident." Vergil explained.

"Everything?"

"Everything." Vergil confirmed. "Who might you be, and what are you doing in Devil May Cry?"

"That's interesting." The lady answered with a slight smirk. "I never knew that half-demons could get amnesia. Perhaps I could hit Dante hard enough in the brain someday to make him forget that I owe him my life..."

"You haven't answered my question." Vergil interrupted the lady's self-muse, lightly poking the tip of his sword on the woman's sexy bustier over her heart. "Either answer me well, or I might not hesitate to push this sword further. I might have lost memories, but my senses still tell me that you are demon."

The lady frowned down at him, clearly not afraid of his death threat, for a long moment. The moment broke, however, when she sighed in defeat, tucked her sunglasses at her low cleavage, then shrugged as if deciding that she would not be put in a disadvantage if she revealed her identity.

"My name is Trish. I am a work associate at Devil May Cry. We've worked a few missions together in the past, Vergil."

"Devil May Cry, a company that specialises in demon-hunting, have a demon for a work associate?" Vergil said, still keeping his sword straight and pointed. "A strange choice of partners we have here."

"It was started by your half-demon brother." Trish answered nonchalantly. "Nothing about Dante is normal. Nothing about the both of you are normal. In fact, you acting normal is the most abnormal thing I have seen from you so far."

"What do you mean by that?"

"This is the first time you have held a conversation with me that has survived more than 5 sentences. Usually, you just brush me off as a bitch clinging on to your brother that you can't be bothered with." Trish answered honestly. "And you are being surprisingly civil."

Vergil bristled a little. "Civilities are meant only for humans."

"There; those kind of statements are more Vergil-like." Trish smirked, as if satisfied to find something still recognisable within him. "I won't disturb you with your memory-seeking, but I'll be staying in Dante's room tonight. So if you're thinking of blaming your memory loss to come climbing into my bed for some hanky panky tonight, you'd better be ready to bite my bullets."

"Hanky panky with a demon like you?" Vergil could not stop himself as he casted a doubtful eye over the lady. While she did wear clothes that accentuated her curves very well and gave straight men very good imagination of her abilities on the bed, Vergil was completely not tempted by the sight. "I would rather roll over in my grave than try anything on you."

"I expect nothing else." Trish answered, and Vergil supposed that there was an ounce of trust within the woman given the way she strolled out of his room, entered the other bedroom on the second floor and didn't seem to even bother locking the doors.

Was not locking doors a norm for the people of Devil May Cry?

Still, there were little more that Vergil could hope to get out of the woman, and thus he continued on his hunt for his memories once more in silence.

________________________________________________________________________________

"Freddi's, huh?" Vergil contemplated as he stood in front of the café, waiting for some form of memory to come back. It had already been a week since his accident, and though Vergil had learnt many more things about himself through discovery, none of the memories had come back. Only his body remembered certain things through muscle memory -things like knowing he needed his blue coat and sword whenever he went out, things like knowing he had to pay for the bills for the man that was supposed to be his brother but had still yet to return from whatever mission he was doing in the next town.

According to a trigger-happy woman named Lady who had been introduced as Dante's part-time agent whenever it came to demon-hunting missions, this café called Freddi's was apparently a place that had been precious for both Dante and Vergil. The Sparda brothers had apparently bonded many times over the desserts served in this place -and also built up quite a tab given the way Dante seemed to always be unable to pay.

What Vergil was learning about his brother from the two ladies in the past week was that his younger brother's most notable characteristic was that he was always poor and thus ended up in debts everywhere.

Strangely enough, Vergil didn't seem to be in the same financial situation as his missing younger brother at all.

Sighing when no memories came floating through his head at the sight of Freddi's, but still feeling a very distant sense of nostalgia, Vergil entered the café to meet the afternoon emptiness.

"Vergil, you're fine already?" The surprised greeting came from the man standing at the other side of the counter, a rag and glass in his hand as he wiped it clean.

"I was discharged the day after." Vergil answered vaguely since he still had no idea whether the man was supposed to be familiar to him.

"Oh, right. You are a half-demon. Stupid me for being worried for a moment. So you'll have the usual today?" The man smiled a friendly smile that Vergil could not decide whether to trust. The man might not know about his amnesia yet, but Vergil was not naïve enough to believe that there weren't people out in the world who looked to make the most out of amnesiacs.

"Yes, I will." He therefore answered, wondering exactly what his 'usual' was. If this man was anyone to be trusted, then Vergil had surely visited this place enough times to have the chef remembering his usual order. That in itself was slightly disconcerting, because Vergil had never thought to associate himself -a demon hunter -to any of the sweet desserts offered up on the menu here.

"Dante not with you this time?" The casual conversation seemed like something comfortable for the man whose name tag said Freddy. Vergil quickly decided that this man must be the owner of the café himself.

"He is still on a mission in the next town." He answered, watching the man carefully preparing his dessert order.

"I know I've said this countless times, and I'll continue to say it until I run out of saliva, but tell Dante to pay off the tab as soon as possible. I can't run a business with him racking up such a big debt." Freddy sighed while expert hands put together the ingredients that looked suspiciously diabetes-causing into the tall cup.

"Dante owes you that much?" Vergil asked. "Then what about my tab?"

"Your tab?" It was Freddy's turn to be surprised. "What are you talking about? You've been paying for Dante behind his back since time immemorial."

"I have?" Vergil could not resist putting a curious inflection to his sentence. Then, upon seeing the confused pause in Freddy, Vergil shook his head. "Never mind."

"Are you sure you are feeling okay? You might be a half-demon, but this town still needs you and your brother's services. There haven't been more reliable and efficient demon-hunters since the two of you arrived in town." The concern was clear in Freddy's tone, and Vergil was rather surprised to have someone address him like that. Vergil himself knew that he was generally a cold and unsociable person both before and after the accident. His memory might have been lost, but his character was not about to fade away so easily.

"Thank you for the concern, but I am fine." Vergil insisted, receiving the cup of cold dessert that Freddy now placed on the counter upon completion.

"If you insist." Freddy probably knew Vergil well enough to not bother pursuing the topic at hand further.

"What can you tell me about Dante?" Vergil's words pierced through the short comfortable moment of silence.

"Why?" The surprise at Vergil's question came again, though he no longer paused in his act of cleaning the glasses.

Vergil didn't bother to spare many precious brain cells thinking of a lie. "I was contacted by the town authorities to put together a profile of Dante. They say that the media wants to cover a documentary pertaining to demon hunting and demon hunters. They are looking for second opinions about my brother's characteristics other than what I can describe."

The lie was completely unfounded, but it didn't mean that Freddy had to know about it. The explanation was understandably well taken by the innocent café-owner who nodded in understanding.

"Okay, so what do you want to know about Dante that you think I'll see differently from you?" Freddy invited openly; seemingly honoured to be asked for a second opinion.

"What about your impressions of him? As a third person who knows him, I mean. The media doesn't want my biased views of my own brother."

"I guess Dante is a very simple guy, but that's probably what makes him both welcomed and exploited. Some people might frown on his way of living life, but it's still a fact that he can't be bothered about what people say about him as long as the missions are still coming for him. It's real easy to read him sometimes –very different from how you are, Vergil –and sometimes people use that knowledge of him to exploit him."

"Like put the bill on his tab after a shopping spree." Vergil muttered beneath his breath to continue where Freddy had left off. He had overheard a conversation happening between the ladies back in Devil May Cry discussing about going on a shopping trip and not having the money to pay before coming to the conclusion of using Dante's name to rack a tab.

"You say he is very easy to read. How easy?" Vergil prompted to the awaiting, semi-busy café-owner.

"Most of the time you can see his expression written all on his face. His motivations are very simple –like I said, he is a very simple man –he works enough to survive, and does not want to spend extra effort or energy reaching any further goals. Many people use the knowledge of that motivation of his to make him do hard missions because they think that his life is expandable."

"And yet my brother has managed to come back again and again after missions in one piece." Vergil once more completed Freddy's explanation, seeing the picture he had painted in his mind very clearly.

"Dante and I are miles apart, aren't we?" The passing comment came unchecked through Vergil's lips as he casually balanced the strawberry on his spoon, admiring its seductive redness.

"I'll be honest, you and Dante are the most different pair of twins I have ever seen in my shop. I'll go on, but I'm sure you are aware of the differences between yourself and your brother." Freddy answered with a chuckle.

"Do humour me." Vergil prompted with a soft gesture with his spoon.

"Well, for one, you are deadly serious and efficient when it comes to jobs and I heard Dante only takes the ones that he likes and will use the least effort. You're constantly on the news because you keep taking jobs, and I'm always surprised whenever Dante comes in saying he finished a job. He's a loud-mouth crude, and you're always dignified. But for what's worth, Dante has a good heart."

"And I don't?" Vergil could not help but ask at the implied connotation, watching the café owner carefully. "What have you heard that could possibly suggest a bad heart?"

Vergil made sure that his words held no threat, but embarrassment was still registered as Freddy blushed a deep red, escaping his eye contact as he pretended to bustle around the bar.

"Freddy." Vergil said in a serious tone, and it seemed like the added pressure was something that the poor café owner could not take.

"I-I... I heard on the street that you were once on the side of the demons. The word on the street is that you were power-hungry and that you always wanted to become stronger. They say you were responsible for Temen-Ni-Gru, and that you almost killed Dante. But he went and saved you, and you came to your senses and joined your brother. It's a good story overall, but..."

"But?" Vergil prompted again, knowing that there was more that Freddy was keeping hidden form him. Vergil wasn't even sure what he felt about these strange rumours about himself on the street. He had lost all of his memories; he could not even ascertain if any of it were true. But if it were, then Vergil must have had a very colourful childhood –mainly painted crimson with blood.

"But because you are always either taking jobs or found in the town library reading complex books that normal people like us don't understand, people talk. They say you're still trying to become strong and take rule over this world. You have the power to do so. B-But those are just word on the street, Vergil. You and I know that you are different..." The hasty save was a good attempt by Freddy, but it remained a fact that Vergil felt no emotional reaction to those words because he could not come up with the appropriate memories.

Even if Vergil had once been the evil mastermind as the rumours on the street once made him out to be, he now had lost all memories of them, and thus had no more reason to want to 'rule the world' anymore.

In fact, all Vergil wanted now was to meet this man who was named to be his twin brother, but yet sounded so much like a stranger to him in terms of characteristic traits.

"Freddy." Vergil said as he swallowed the last scoop of the sundae, throwing a bill on the counter as he slid off the seat. "Tell me one thing that I have in common with Dante."

Regardless of how flustered the café-owner had been minutes before, this time Freddy didn't hesitate a single moment in the answer.

"Both of you love strawberry sundae."

________________________________________________________________________________

It was already dark outside by the time Vergil exited his last spot of visit for the day. He had spent the entire day going around town to places that the ladies in Devil May Cry had said that the Sparda Brothers used to spend time together.

Unfortunately, none of those places had given him a single inkling of memory, though he did collect much more precious information when it came to him and his brother from the mouths of the many people who were apparently acquainted to them distantly.

The more Vergil asked, it seemed as if none of those people ever truly thought the both of them as twins. Because the two of them were so diversely different, Vergil had eventually learnt to consider Dante as a brother instead of a twin. The fact that they looked completely alike aside, Vergil could count less than ten similarities that he shared with his twin brother.

What kind of twins were they in the first place? Vergil definitely knew that he was the no-nonsense, cold, efficient and stubborn man. Meanwhile, the impressions he had gained on his younger twin seemed to cut Dante an exact opposite image from him. While Vergil understood that twins were at least obliged to have their differences, he probably had never imagined that his identical twin would be so different that they appeared to come from different planets.

To be rather honest, Vergil could not understand why he was so curious about Dante himself. For a man who had lost all memories of how he came to be, Vergil found himself only thirsty for knowledge about his twin and less about the other aspects of his life. It was safe for him to assume that he could still continue to be a demon hunter to earn his keep -considering how his half-demon instincts were still serving him very well.

In fact, they served him so well that his body was rolling away from a sword strike from overhead even before he could process the thought. Scolding himself slightly at how he had been so deep on his own thoughts that he had not afforded part of his attention to the surrounding, he unsheathed his sword in readiness for self-defence.

His quarry held on the shape of a suave young in outdated assassins garb, but half-demon instincts recognised a full-blooded demon where he saw one.

"Finally I have you." Vergil got a sense that this demon was not speaking in a human language, but strangely enough he understood it equally well. "For too long, I have chased you down to avenge my fallen brethren. Prepare yourself, son of Sparda!"

It would honestly have helped very much if Vergil remembered when or where he might have met this demon before, but if he could not even remember his own twin brother, remembering a mere demon was impossible.

"If you want to die honoured knowing that you attempted revenge upon I, then at least do tell me your name." Vergil declared in reply, reading his sword for an offensive strike now. Since it was clear to him that he wouldn't be left alone until this demon was back in Hell, Vergil no longer bothered with defensive.

"You might have changed a sword and clothes since the last time I saw you, but your face and smell is still the same! You are not getting away from me this time, son of Sparda." The declaration made was confident and proud, and thus Vergil did not spare extra thought.

Shortly into the fight, he decided that if he truly was the one running away from this demon for whatever reason instead of sending it straight back to Hell, Vergil might actually have a screw loose in the past. The demon was sorely under-skilled and too easy to kill, and Vergil was in preparation of executing his ending move when a bang filled the air.

Pausing in surprise at the sound, he faced the demon that now sported a bullet hole in its forehead. An expression of surprise also wrote itself on the demon's face, but as Vergil waited for something to happen, it became clear that something more than just a bullet had interrupted him.

A red line of blood formed rather quickly across the demon's neck, and Vergil watched as the blood spurted as its head began tilting and eventually rolled off its shoulders. The way the demon passed on was not remarkable, but Vergil's attention was no longer on the demon, but rather on the presence that had joined him on the street. Strangely enough, the new presence did not give Vergil a sense of danger despite the fact that he could clearly feel demonic energy leaking from the intruder's frame.

"Good riddance." The red-clad demon hunter that had shot a distracting bullet then sliced through the neck of the demon casually put his sword on his back. "I forgot about him, but he keeps showing up asking for death when I'm not feeling like killing anything. I guess he's lucky this time he met not only you, but also me when I'm in the mood to slay a few demons. Right, Verge?"

It didn't take a genius for Vergil to put two and two together.

"Dante? Are you finally back?" Vergil did his best to make out the features of the person who was supposed to be his twin in the half-darkness, but... "Why are you wearing a mask?"

"Oh, sorry about that." Dante seemed to realise he still had his facial accessory on, cursing softly as he removed it. "The mission just got bigger and bigger. Every time a demon died there, anyone that breathed in its deadly fumes would become another demon. I don't really need the mask, but the people insisted, so I just took it to shut them up."

"I understood from Lady that it was supposed to be an easy job." Vergil replied, sheathing his sword carefully while taking small experimental steps towards his brother. "What happened to that?"

"The altar that opened was supposed to stay closed for a good reason. Dad sealed the fog demon into the altar, but some idiot kids played around with it and broke some part. The demon came out and had its fun while I was wondering what the heck Pops put in there." Dante's answer was paired with a loud yawn. "What about you? What are you doing around at this time? A job?"

"Something like that." Vergil answered vaguely. "Have you just returned to town?"

"I thought I could come back in time for a strawberry sundae, but Freddi's was closed by the time I reached. I'm going back home for a good shower and sleep on a good bed again. My body's aching in places that're not supposed to ache at this age." Dante complained, and it was quickly obvious to Vergil that his twin brother found nothing wrong with him –or the way he addressed his brother. Were their conversations always like this before Vergil lost his memories?

"What are you waiting for?" The impatient question jerked Vergil out of his introspection, and he blinked to find Dante beckoning at him. Now that Dante had paused beneath a lamp, the artificial light defined very clearly the features that Vergil saw often in the mirror. There was really no questioning when Vergil looked at his brother's face; Dante was his twin.

But in appearance; it seemed. They were nothing alike in character. No one in town –absolutely no one –ever thought that they both of them were alike any sense enough to be twins in character. In fact, many people that Vergil had asked had described Dante as his polar opposite, and many of them had expressed equal surprise at Vergil somehow being able to live with his twin brother who was so opposite from him –and vice versa as well.

"What's wrong?" Dante asked when Vergil fell in step beside his brother, deep in his thoughts. This was another difference between them –Vergil enjoyed the silence of walks to be engaged in his own thoughts, and Dante seemed to like to verbalise them instead. "You're usually quiet, but it's a strange sort of silence today."

"I was just thinking." Vergil excused.

"Think too much and your mind will blow." Dante's easy reply came –yet another difference. Vergil always thought before making any moves, and it seemed like his twin brother didn't like to put the same organ to use at any time.

"I was just thinking," Vergil repeated again, but continued with his sentence this time, "about how different we are despite the fact that we're twins."

"Twins?" Dante's tone of voice was disinterest. "We aren't like normal twins."

"But we look too identical not to be considered twins."

"Well, between you and me, we know who the handsome one is." Dante's answer was paired with a wide yawn this time. "What's with you? You usually don't even like to acknowledge that you are in acquaintance to me. What is up with the twin talk now?"

Vergil silently wondered how long he could possibly keep the truth from his brother, but what was the point in that? Lying to Dante had no advantage for him nor did telling the truth put Vergil in any form of disadvantage. Thus, Vergil stopped in the middle of the road and waited for his brother to realise that he had stopped, watching Dante turn around with a confused expression.

"I met with an accident while you were away on the mission, Dante." Vergil started seriously, and he guess no matter what people said about them being all-too-capable brothers, at least he was a little touched at the soft look of concern that Dante gave to him. The concern, however, only lasted a second before Dante scoffed.

"The word 'accident' doesn't come out of your lips casually, Vergil. What can possibly happen to you? You got someone pregnant? You accidentally killed someone's pet? Made a baby shit his diaper?" Dante answered sarcastically.

"None of that." Vergil answered seriously. "I was blasted from a building and spent eight hours in the operating theatre."

"Big deal." Dante scoffed again. "You're a half-demon. You probably healed within 2 days."

"That's not the point, Dante. Wounds heal, but memories don't come back so easily."

"What do you mean 'memories don't come back'?"

Vergil blinked slowly, making sure that his brother couldn't pretend to be unbothered or lazy-to-care this time around.

"I lost my memories, Dante. All of them. Regarding myself, regarding you, regarding my entire life."

"You're kidding." Disbelief was strong in Dante's voice now.

"I'm not joking." Vergil answered evenly. "Everything I know about you now is from what people have told me about you."

"So you're saying you don't remember what happened when we were young? How we met at Temen-Ni-Gru, killed all the demons there, and then moved here to start up Devil May Cry because you wrecked my shop back in the other town?"

"None of it." Vergil admitted. "Though, there are many rumours pertaining to what happened between you and me in Temen-Ni-Gru."

"But you don't remember the truth." Dante looked uncertain now, though Vergil didn't understand why.

Still, Vergil shook his head honestly.

"Good. Then if anyone asks, it was raining the day we parted at Temen-Ni-Gru. I wasn't crying."

"You cried, Dante?" Vergil blinked in surprise. "For me?"

"It was the rain!" The younger twin insisted.

"I am utterly surprised, Dante." Vergil could not stop his smirk. "You cried for me because I left you alone at Temen-Ni-Gru?"

"I thought you were dead!" Dante was no longer denying the fact that he cried anymore.

"And yet I am still here, alive and-"

"Watch out, Verge!" Dante's shout interrupted Vergil, and Vergil was only caught in surprise when he watched his brother run towards him. With the speed of a half-demon, Dante barrelled into him as the both of them flew a good distance with Dante's charge-up run. Vergil blinked to see that Dante had narrowly saved him from the hole in the ground that had now opened up where Vergil had been standing moments ago. It did not take long for demons to climb out from the hole that emanated a red glow.

Still, the Sparda Brothers were reeling backwards from Dante's charge, until Vergil tripped over the sidewalk. And because Dante had charged towards Vergil, and Vergil had been backtracking, it was not surprising at all when Vergil's head hit the lamppost as they fell hard. The loud thunk resonated even in Vergil's skull as the both of them collapsed in a mess of limbs on the floor.

"Damn it, I thought I was free from these bastards when I came back. Can't a demon-hunter get a one-day break?" Dante complained as he untangled himself from his brother again, whipping out his weapons and facing the small demon hoard that had amassed by now.

What surprised Dante was the fact that he could feel no comforting presence of his brother taking up his flank. Pausing for a short while, he looked backwards, not understanding what was happening when he found Vergil still lying on the floor, looking completely dazed.

"What's wrong? Don't tell me you're still weak from the accident? It was just a hit on the head."

"It isn't that..." Vergil's voice was soft and pained in reply, and Dante watched as his brother reach up to put a hand on his head, as if supporting it gingerly. "It's back."

"What do you mean 'it's back'?" Dante demanded.

"My memories." Vergil answered shortly, rubbing his temples. "And you were right. We aren't normal twins."

"Damn right." Dante turned back to assess the situation. The small hoard was slowly becoming an army, and he was looking forward to going back to bed. It didn't take long before he felt his brother taking up position at his side, Yamato once more unsheathed and ready for work. "Ready, to show them some ass-kicking, Sparda-style?"

"Unfortunately for them, they've met the wrong pair of twins." Vergil could not resist a smirk. The memories were all coming back; how Dante and Vergil had made nice, and how they ended up starting their business by fighting demons together, Vergil covering Dante's back and vice versa. This was finally feeling familiar to Vergil with a good enough reason. He could finally place images of the past in his mind.

"It's their misfortune." Dante grinned. "They haven't seen Jackpot before."