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Dante tended to clean the gore from his sword as our father had. Careless, he flicked the blade through the air before placing it against his back once again despite the remnants of blood.
After he’d finished the idle movements, his expression remained puzzled. He was welcome to not think further on what had him so stumped, but it became apparent when he opened his mouth that I would not escape the conversation.
“Does it just bother you when other things stab me? Is that it?”
“All that time thinking, and that’s what you come up with?”
He shrugged, a cocksure grin erasing the confusion on his face. “What else am I supposed to come up with? You don’t usually come to my rescue. It’s not like demon claws could kill me that easily anyway.”
“Yes, it’s unfortunate.” But he had a point. From his perspective, I’d gone out of my way to warp across the battlefield just to guard against one errant strike. “Perhaps I just don’t want to see you having to shove your guts back in because you can’t be bothered to pay attention while you fight.”
“Unless you’re the one doing the gutting. Admit it. You’d be jealous.”
“I wouldn’t be jealous. I’d be embarrassed. You shouldn’t carelessly let yourself be injured just because you can heal. The denizens of Hell won’t always be so forgiving. Besides, it’s… I’m just…” My hand flailed in the air, grasping for the right words. I regretted them before they’d come to pass. “You know, like Father said!”
I waited for Dante’s irritating, barking laugh to hit me, but he responded with silence and a blank stare.
“You don’t remember,” I said just so I wouldn’t have to wait for him to admit it.
With a huff, he scratched at the back of his head. “Well, Dad said a lot of things. You’re talking about the man who trained us with slogans like ‘Guns are fun, but not while you run.’”
“Yes, he was very proud of that one,” I muttered.
“And there was the time he tried to explain where babies came from and he didn’t realize that humans don’t have ‘litters’ like demons.”
“I had actively suppressed that, and now you’ve reminded me.”
The laugh I’d feared finally escaped Dante, but it was made more from amusement than mockery. “Oh! Do you remember the time he tried to teach us the best way to jump from a high ledge?”
“How could I forget the sound of both of your tibias snapping?” That was also the day I learned how to set a broken bone properly. Mom had taught us while Father sat in the corner looking pale and staring at his hands.
“So, I guess I can’t say I took a lot of Dad’s advice to heart, you know?” Dante said with a smirk strained under a moment’s regret.
I should have given up on the thought then. It didn’t matter.
“Do you remember the day we were playing outside near sundown, past when we were supposed to be out?” I asked. “The time demons attacked us?”
“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” he said, but there was no laugh in his words. His eyes grew distant as they looked to the past. “Now that you mention it, yeah, I remember that. The sunset was blinding that day, wasn’t it?”
“Sorry I’m late,” Dad said while smacking his sword through empty air. Demon blood flew off the shiny silver and speckled all over the grass. Vergil looked up from my hand just to wrinkle his nose. He probably wouldn’t let us practice there anymore until rain got rid of all the blood.
“That was cool, Dad!” I yelled. “You killed them all super dead!”
Vergil made a noise through his nose like a mad bull and pulled my hand back in front of him when I tried to take it away. “Could have gotten here faster, Dad.”
“He doesn’t gotta. I protected you all by myself.”
Vergil looked up from the cut on my hand again, this time to stare at me from under his mad eyebrows. He kept them like that too much. They were gonna get stuck at some point. That was what Mom said.
“I appreciate you trying to protect your brother,” Dad said before Vergil could lecture me, “but if a demon appears, please just run. Your practice swords will not do much against a demon.”
“Then we should have real swords,” Vergil grumbled, and I nodded.
As he walked closer to where we sat on the bench, Dad tapped Rebellion against his shoulder and frowned. “Your mother says that small boys should not play with real swords. You might hurt each other. Though I should think that to be the best type of practice, I do not argue these things with your mother. That is, as she says, ‘bad for my health.’” He kneeled in front of us, stabbing Rebellion into the dirt so it stood upright. I wondered if I could pull it out, but Vergil still had my hand in his.
Mom made sure we always had a first aid kit on the bench when we practiced or played. Vergil knew what all the stuff in there was somehow, so he put some weird medicine goo on the cut before wrapping it up in some bandages. I would have done the same thing for him, but he never seemed to get beat up as much.
When the demon showed up out of nowhere, my body moved by itself. I got between it and Vergil. I remembered hearing Vergil yell when my wood sword got knocked out of my hands and blood covered my palm. I couldn’t tell what was going on after it smacked me to the ground, but I wasn’t scared for me.
I was scared for Vergil. If I didn’t get up in time, the demon might get him. It was all I could think about.
Now, he was just mad. He pulled the bandages too tight and wouldn’t look at me.
“You’re very brave, Dante,” Dad said. “Too brave. Please be less brave. Demons have big claws and teeth, and you have fragile human flesh and squishy insides.”
“Haha, gross.” I used my free hand to poke at my stomach. “Squishy.”
“Yes,” Dad said. “And demons think those insides are very tasty.”
Vergil’s nose wrinkled again. “Does that mean you want to eat us, Dad?”
“Oh no, not at all! Demons very rarely eat our own offspring. You don’t smell appetizing to me.”
“Do other people smell tasty to you?” I asked.
“Um…” His eyes flicked to their corners. “Well, actual food smells much better. I do love cheese, and that strange meat substance shaped like dinosaurs is fantastic.”
I wanted to tell him he was under arrest for eating all the chicken nuggets, but Vergil talked first. “Dad, do demons attack other kids too?”
The laugh in Dad’s eyes faded away, and his shoulders fell. “I cannot say that demons don’t attack other children. They do, but you two are a special case. You have my blood, so you shine to them like a beacon. You smell of an enemy. Thus, they are drawn to you. This is why you must learn how to fight but also when to run. You cannot win every battle.”
“But you can, Dad! You’re good at killing ‘em!”
“Yes.” He smiled. His eyes still weren’t smiling, though. “I will protect you two, but you must protect each other as well in case I cannot be here.”
“Don’t say that,” Vergil grumbled, still holding my hand even though he was done bandaging it. “Don’t tell Dante to protect me. I can take care of myself.”
“Nuh-uh!”
“I can too! I don’t need you to fight for me. I’m not a baby.”
“You’re a big baby.”
“We’re the same age!”
“You are both very, very young to me,” Dad said, “so I will always see you both as babies.”
“Tasty, squishy babies,” I said. He looked so panicked that I had to laugh.
“No! I would never eat you.”
“Have you ever eaten a person?” Vergil asked, his eyes narrowed.
“Please do not ask me this.”
I held up my other hand for Vergil. “Do you want to see if I taste good?”
“You don’t.”
“You didn’t try!”
“Boys, please do not take any bites out of each other,” Dad sighed. “You will not taste good, and then you will be missing a piece, and your mother will kill me.”
I reached over to pat him on the head like he did to us sometimes. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll protect Vergil from the demons who think he’s tasty.”
“Thank you, Dante,” Dad said even though he was shaking his head. “Vergil, for Dante, could you- um…”
“I will protect Dante from Dante,” Vergil said.
He squeezed my hand tight even though it hurt a little, so I squeezed back.