The girl’s soft, childish voice stirred something in Dante’s chest. A complicated emotion, one born from several others. After struggling to suppress it, he wore his easygoing smile once more, not wanting to make the girl worry.
"Good? Maybe excellent." He replied. "I have been a little busy lately, but you’ve got nothing to worry about."
"I see." She turned her gaze to the front once more, still smiling. "That’s good to hear."
"You thought I wouldn’t survive on my own, didn’t you?"
"You can’t blame me, can you?"
Glancing at each other, the two burst out laughing. Dante couldn’t remember when was the last time he had allowed himself to laugh like that, but unfortunately, it didn’t last long. The strange sensation in his chest shifted once more, slowly rousing from its slumber, quickly banishing the happiness that forced it awake.
As his laughter died, his gaze fell to his lap, and silence overtook him. He noticed that his hands were no longer those of the young boy, having turned to the scarred, metal-enhanced hands of the youth he had turned into. The rest of his body had changed as well, and so did his clothes.
The girl beside him remained the same, which brought his attention to how much taller he had grown since they last met. A short while later, the words flowed out of his mouth in a faint whisper, a hint of pain making it into his voice.
"It’s been four years, huh?"
"Already?" The girl said, sounding a little surprised. "I... haven’t noticed at all."
"Guess time flows differently on that side, huh?"
"Maybe? I don’t know."
Dante paused, then he heaved a sigh.
"I... hadn’t been able to do much in that time. But things are starting to progress now." He said. "I finally found it, a weapon that will let me make them pay." Pausing, he heaved another sigh, "I... I still can’t use it properly, so... It might be a while before I come by."
The strange sensation grew stronger, and he finally learned what it was. Frustration, anger, weakness, guilt. Those emotions merged together, creating a hideous monstrosity that sought to claw its way out of his chest.
The silence only made him more aware of its presence. As it stretched on and on, Dante glanced beside him and saw the white haired girl piercing him with a reproachful look, her elegant brows drawn together in a deep frown.
Dante found himself leaning back from her, a little afraid of what she was going to say next. As he waited, however, the girl only closed her eyes and shook her head dejectedly, as if disappointed by what he had just said. She turned away from him, facing the front once more.
"Say, Will..." Her eyes wandered to the driver’s seat. "Are you still angry with Father?"
The question gave him pause. Not knowing how to respond, Dante could only frown at the little girl.
"You might not know this, but... father wasn’t angry at you." She said. "He was angry at himself."
The word slipped out of his mouth, and the girl gave him a small smile, returning her gaze to the man behind the wheel.
"Father blamed himself for what happened that night. He believed himself to be weak, and he hated that he couldn’t stand up to those people." Her smile turned wistful. "He was forced to watch you do something he couldn’t have done himself and... he hated himself for it."
Dante listened in silence, taking in the girl’s words one by one. He found himself staring at the seat in front of him, a deep frown gradually warping his face. He could still hear the man berating him for being rash, for not thinking his actions through. That caused him to scoff, dismissing everything the girl said.
"Aren’t you giving him too much credit? At the end of the day, he was nothing more than a coward whose only concern was his overlords and their funds."
"Father did what it takes to achieve his goals." The girl said. "Even if it meant bowing his head to people he absolutely despised."
"Really?" He asked sarcastically.
"Yes." The girl’s eyes were serious, unyielding. "He could’ve lived a simple life without any of those problems, but he made his choice, and he refused to back away."
Sensing that there was no winning this argument, Dante averted his gaze and sank into his seat. Unbeknownst to him, he was gradually reverting to the same young boy who had once sat in that exact place.
"I don’t think I will ever understand..."
"You will, one day." The girl said. "The two of you resemble each other more than you think."
"Mother used to say that all the time, and she knows you two the best."
The girl chuckled, and Dante found himself doing the same. Despite everything, his mind couldn’t help but linger on everything she said. His father’s goal, he realized that he had no idea what that was. He remembered asking about it as a kid, wanting to learn more about his father’s work. Everything had been far too complicated for him to understand back then, and even as he grew older, none of that seemed to change.
As he tried to remember what his father’s research was about, he felt something tug on his sleeve. His eyes widened, and he realized his dream was reaching its end. The horror of that moment clawed at him, and he whipped his head in the girl’s direction.
The rest of the dream played differently as well. His little sister, Hannah, wasn’t looking ahead, nor was she terrified of anything. Her eyes met his, and her thin lips formed an innocent smile, the same smile he had tried and failed to protect.
"Will, don’t be hard on yourself." She said. "Take your time, and figure out what it is that you really want."
Before his mind could grasp her words, Dante reached out, desperate to embrace the white haired girl. His hands caught nothing but air, however. His sister was gone, and so was the interior of his father’s car. Replacing it were the shabby walls of a dimly lit room, and as he stared at them, Dante realized that he was once again all on his own.