The inevitable has happened and I've caught the "happy Sparda family" craze that seems to be floating around the DMC section.

This crappy lil' ficlet is the result of me being a crack head. Thanks, and enjoy.

Side note: Much thanks to the people who've commented on Encore. You make me happy. flails :3

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any member of the Sparda family.

The Talk


Sparda was jolted from his reverie by an all too familiar shout. He glanced over the well-worn pages of his novel to find Vergil at his side, his blue eyes peering out from under wild strands of silvery hair. He looked puzzled.


"Where did I come from?"


Think of those commercials depicting crash test dummies hurtling towards a brick wall at fifty or so miles per hour.

Sparda's aristocratic demeanour shattered.

So did his monocle.

(Figuratively, of course).

But for a brief moment, Sparda thought if he could somehow achieve spontaneous eyewear detonation, maybe a horrific wound to his left eye could halt the conversation before it went any further.

Oh no. Not this talk. Not yet…why couldn't he have asked Eva?

Vergil waited in silence, something that he didn't do very often. This kid was intent on getting an answer.

"Well, you see…"

Now how should he begin this?

Your mother and I love each other very much…Well obviously.

When a man and a woman…Too graphic! Don't want to scar the poor child.

There's this stork thing…Oh, you've got to be kidding.

"You came from the baby factory," Sparda had drawn a blank and, in the end, played the baby factory card. Inwardly, he cursed.

"The baby factory?"

"Yes. They make babies for mothers and fathers who want them."

"And I came from there?"

"Indeed you did."

"Dante too?"

"Dante too."

Vergil paused for a moment, soaking in this revelation. Then, he perked up.

"Can we go to the baby factory?"

Sparda shifted his weight. An impressive feat considering he was sitting down.

"Er. No, Vergil, we can't."

"Why not?"

At this point, Eva had padded past the room, stopping to lean against the doorframe when she heard the following:

"Because the baby factory is in Japan."

Until that moment, Eva had never full out snorted while laughing. Vergil didn't notice a faint pink flush appear on his father's cheeks.

"Dad, can we go to Japan?"


"Mom? Can we go?" he inquired, turning to his mother with pleading eyes.

Eva was not looking at her son as she responded, a barely contained smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, "I don't think so. The baby factory in Japan is pretty far away."

Sparda grit his teeth.

The half devil child looked forlorn for a moment before jostling the book out of his father's hands and climbing into his lap. With all seriousness, he stared into Sparda's face.

"How do I know I came from the baby factory in Japan? I don't remember it."

Sparda glanced at his wife, who nodded for him to take this question. She wanted to know the answer nearly as eagerly as Vergil.

The ex-Dark Knight cleared his throat, and adjusted his monocle.

"Vergil, I'm sure you're aware of the ridges on the roof of your mouth. It's about time that I told you they spell out 'Made in Japan'."

Vergil spent the rest of the day in front of the bathroom mirror with his mouth hanging open.