[ Dante is quiet for several minutes as he mulls the words over. For Kiyomitsu, it might be out of the ordinary from the way Dante usually presents himself--where he's usually cocksure and reckless, he's giving this serious thought.

"It's not like we're totally different people..." No. It's not. And that's part of what has him so worried, the feeling that he might become the boy he's having memories of. The boy who had friends, and lost them, who died and wandered alone in this afterworld where it was only him and this witch.

The boy who ended up alone because his heart was empty, suffocated by darkness. ]

Yeah, I guess so. We aren't totally different.

I don't know about you, but I still don't want to be him instead of me, though.