Vergil's OneShots (DMC Fanfiction)

The Reason Why

A/N: This might come as bad news to some, but I have been having thoughts about ending this book with reasons being: 1) I am no longer able to commit to a 2-week uploading schedule. 2) Now that I have found employment, finding the time to sit down and write is getting much harder. 3) I haven't been getting any good ideas for story parts since there isn't much going on in my life enough to inspire story points. While I truly love writing and have enjoyed this whole journey thus far, and the lack of time might force me to upload unedited or sub-par story parts, and I would much rather end it before I find myself uploading stories I end up being ashamed about.

This decision is not yet set in stone. I will give it more thoughts while continuing uploading  parts already written at irregular uploading schedule. Thank you all for supporting me thus far.

[The Reason Why]

Personality: Post-DMC 5 Vergil

I watched him from afar while he makes his slow progress down the street. I doubted that he has yet spotted me in the crowd of people, but he is unmistakable in his environment. It might have something to do with the always-styled white hair, or the fact that he held his sleek sword loosely by his side as if it were his everyday going-out belonging. Mostly, though, I was sure that the reason why the people around him always seem to sense his presence, freeze up involuntarily at the sight of him and avert eye contact, was the fact that he had an extremely heavy aura.

As an outsider witnessing the strong effect of his aura, amusement and awe came in equal parts within me as I continued observing his slow, leisure progress through the street. With the exception being me, nobody in this crowd knew that he was the sole perpetrator of the Qliphoth incident. Nobody knew about the massacre that his demonic half had done, and yet the look of fear that crossed the faces of some innocent bystanders as he brushed past them seemed to fit the situation.

He stopped a good distance away from me, and cast his gaze around, looking for another individual with white hair like him. I consciously tipped my hat further down to hide any stray tufts of whiteness, keeping that movement small so as not to attract any unwanted attention.

He didn't seem to have caught sight of me, and thus turned towards the entrance of the café, where a nervous waitress awaited with an uncertain smile. This was the first time in my fifteen minutes sitting here in the café seeing this particular waitress hang an expression on her face that was not a happy, welcoming smile. Surely, he had to be the only person who could make such a professional waitress lose her cool, and he hadn't even opened his mouth yet.

I was seated too far away to hear their conversation, but the hard expression on his face paired with his words (that I could easily imagine to be delivered monotonously) was probably the reason why the uncertain smile slowly slipped from the waitress's face and instead fear slowly crept up. I was very sure that this intimidation was unintentional, but witnessing his effect was interesting. Perhaps if he frowned less, didn't look at people as if he were glaring, and softened the muscles around his lips, then there might be a slight change.

I was not the only person in this crowd in the café to witness this effect.

I sipped on my cup of lukewarm coffee as I saw a rather muscular man of impressive height stand up from his table near the entrance of the café, then moved to interrupt the conversation between my target and the waitress. The waitress startled in surprise at the intrusion of a savior, but my target only shifted his stone-cold gaze to the newcomer, a frown beginning to crease his brow. This simple –probably involuntary –movement made his intimidating aura increase twice fold, and I smiled stupidly to myself when I saw righteous expression on the 'savior's face fade a little, uncertainty creeping up his eyes.