Piove Sul Bagnato

by pearliegrimm

Summary:

“I apologise Signore...?”
“Kujo. Kujo Jotaro.”
“I apologise Signor Kujo. I don’t believe I heard you correctly…?”
“Your biological father is the stand-wielding master vampire, Dio Brando, who, in 1889, stole my great-great grandfather’s body and attempted to take over the world. I killed him once, nearly fifteen years ago now- but it seems… The bastard just won’t stay dead.”
Giorno blinks at him before motioning for Mista to refill his wine glass. “Leave the bottle,” he tells him.

Chapter 1: incontrare

Notes:

Piove Sul Bagnato;
tr; "When it rains, It pours."

The damn near-overbearing heat of the Italian summer had quelled to a soft simmer as the sun fully set for the day. 'Don Giovanna' had just finished up some of his official duties and was now relaxed in his favourite chair in his office. He was reading some pretentious classic in a language that Mista could not understand. The gunslinger simply couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Giorno had been a kid practically living on the streets for half of his life but he'd still managed to learn fucking Russian.

He was an outlier to the whole system. An anachronism.

-Which was probably why he made such a good boss. 

For the better part of two years… There had been peace.

...Well, as much peace as one could possibly get in the goddamn mafia. 

After Giorno had usurped the role from Diavolo- many aspects of Passione had changed dramatically. The most predominant of such being the mass halt to drug dealing. In Bucciarati’s honour, it had been the first thing Giorno had enacted as boss. It would have been what the former Capo had done… And Giorno had followed that man with great loyalty. It was only natural.

Nevertheless, after the initial ‘change in management,’ during the summer of 2001, things had settled down quite a bit. Giorno was, to the required extent, content. 

Which meant that it was due time for trouble to come knocking at the door. 

...Except that it didn’t. 

 

No- this time trouble decided it would crash through the window.

 

It all happened in rapid succession, the abruptly loud sound of shattered glass- the large thump of the body that had caused it- Giorno and Mista’s mutual (and valid) reaction of great alarm... 

They were on the third floor. This sort of thing just wasn’t possible if one regarded it with normal logistics... 

...But, unfortunately, with the existence of stands- anything was possible.

Giorno sincerely hopes that it isn’t another stand attack. He really does.

Perhaps some hotshot had installed a catapult on the mansion grounds and was testing out its range? 

Unlikely, but Giorno liked to think of himself as an optimist. 

Despite Mista’s vehement protests- Giorno approaches the body, laid out in a sea of broken glass. It was large- male, very muscular and extremely pale. 

“He has to be dead.” Giorno inspects. “He certainly looks dead.” 

Mista moves, kicking the side of the man. “How the fuck did he get up here?” 

Giorno gives him a look, one that says that he ought to not play with dead bodies- before turning the man over to get a better look. He wanted to see if there were any injuries- any indicator of what the hell had just happened here. He couldn’t very well investigate anything if all he had to work on was an unmoving back, after all.

In doing so, Giorno uncovers the face of a man that seemed oddly... familiar to him.

“Holy shit, Giorno, he looks like you!”

Indeed he did.

This peculiar blonde man had a striking resemblance to Giorno, most definitely. 

...Which meant that it was likely a targeted attack. Typical. The moment Giorno became the leader to Passione he was Mr Popular. 

...Though he did much prefer shameless grovelling as opposed to threats.

Especially of this calibre. 

“Did some enemy organisation pick off a relative I didn’t know about and send me their corpse as a warning?” Giorno muses, a hand on his chin. He inspects his surroundings with a keen eye.

The glass shards had spread everywhere throughout the room, which meant that the corpse had to have been flung at a very high speed from quite far away... Perplexing.

“Giorno…?” Mista says from behind him.

“...And how did they get him up here? A man of such stature- and at this height…”

“Giorno?” 

“And surely there was a better way to get a message across then-”

“Giorno!”

Irritated, Giorno looks up at the other. “What is it, Mista?" 

“The corpse is moving.” 

"Oh." 

Within an instant, Giorno has a million different thoughts running through his head- but just one hypothesis. One he hadn't thought about until now. 

Alabaster skin, curling blonde hair- enormous stature. An appearance of death- but inherently life-like…? 

Cazzo.

“Mista you need to get out of here now.”

Mista’s eyes widen in surprise. Giorno can practically see the man digging his claws into the floor. “What?! You-”

“Out! Now!” He shouts at the other as Dio rises from unconsciousness. He rarely shouted. 

Mista, having finally realised that Giorno truly meant his words- exits the room in a flash. The gunslinger was loyal to a tee and Giorno could tell that it killed him to leave- but he’s truly glad that he listened above anything else. Mista was a worthy adversary. 

The sound of the slamming door brings him down from his thoughts.

Giorno didn’t know a whole lot about his father. Aside from the polaroid he had seen many years ago now- there hadn’t been a whole lot to go off of. His mother hated to speak of him- and asking about it usually resulted in a beating. Naturally, he'd quickly learnt it was better not to ask. It was futile, anyhow, all he had ever really gleaned from her responses was that he encaptured a mysterious allure of danger and seduction and left without so much as a note the same night.

He was an elusive guy- most definitely. And Giorno’s almost certain that he was very very dangerous.

“Dio,” Giorno says the name carefully, predominantly unsure of what exactly to do in this situation. 

What did he want? Why was he here? 

Dio regards him with a regal air- something entirely beyond the realm of pompous. He looks him over with a cursory glance. He doesn’t speak.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” Giorno continues, feeling a slight tremble in his hands. As a child, he had idolised the thought of having a father- a strong role model to look up to. Someone to bring him to piano lessons and to teach him how to shoot. He’d never had any of that.

...And he thinks he can see why now.

Dio wasn’t human. That was for certain.

Sure, there was stand users- and they, Giorno supposed, weren’t completely human. But this… This was on a whole new level.

Dio was supernatural.

“Giorno Giovanna.” His name on Dio’s lips is chilling. It sets his instincts aflame. “I require your assistance.”

Notes:

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Chapter 2: sorpresa

Summary:

“You’ll have to forgive me.” Dio replies, his voice the pinnacle of composure. He didn’t sound apologetic in the slightest. He sizes up Giorno, his gaze narrowing. “...You’re quite short, aren’t you?”

Giorno hadn’t anticipated this whatsoever. 

Sure, he had always known something was amiss with his whole family situation... But he had kind of just assumed that that feeling was due to the fact that his mother had remarried and left him here without a second thought. 

And, perhaps, that was a portion of this discontent he had always felt. 

But now… Now he’s certain that that wasn’t the end of it. Nor was it the start.

“It’s quite rude of you to ask me for assistance after eighteen years of radio silence,” Giorno says carefully. He wasn’t fully sure of what Dio was capable of- but he was never one to back away from a fight. That was how he’d gotten here, after all. 

The answer seemingly displeases the man in front of him. Dio looks down at him with an unpleasant frown.

It’s then that Giorno notices something that he’d been blind to- 

The darkness of the night had hidden a majority of such aspects- but upon closer inspection, Giorno thinks he’s beginning to understand his father’s precarious situation a little bit more. 

Dio looked worn- haggard- something that had been hidden by his overwhelming aura of confidence. If Dio needed to breathe- he would be taking ragged breaths at a rapid pace. He was injured- or at the very least incapacitated. 

The one photo that Giorno had seen of him- there hadn’t been a tousled hair out of place- his makeup was immaculate… 

This wasn’t the case for the man in front of him. He wasn’t wearing any sense of makeup-  further accentuating his eternally youthful appearance. Which, frankly, Giorno found mildly disturbing. He was a blank slate. Without the imposing clothing and lipstick that he’d sort of been expecting. He wore black, simply and entirely- with no aspect of garish details.  

“You’ll have to forgive me,” Dio replies, his voice the pinnacle of composure. He didn’t sound apologetic in the slightest. He sizes up Giorno, his gaze narrowing. “...You’re quite short, aren’t you?” 

Something about that sentence makes Giorno pout like an indignant child, despite the situation. “If you’re so eager for my help, I suggest you not insult me.” 

Dio huffs- Giorno thinks it might be in amusement but he wasn’t all that sure. It was that kind of hubris that Giorno had, indeed, expected of a man like his father. It vexed him that he dare ask for assistance after a lifetime of nothing- and then, to top it off- he went and picked on him?   

...But Giorno didn’t think for a second to turn him away.  

Dio, however, didn’t need to know that. 

He also didn’t need to know that Giorno could heal his ailments with GER within an instant. 

“In the years that have passed since I was last on this plain of existence… I, Dio, have lost no light number of ‘loyal’ servants.” Dio says, distaste upturning his lips. “I sensed a connection between us and, it seems, you are the only one I can turn to.” He replies, oddly honest. Giorno thinks it to be a rarity for him, indeed, if Dio’s scowling expression is to be any indicator. “I do not care in the slightest if you regard me as your father or not... But I implore you to consider my request for refuge. Surely you are curious about me, are you not?” 

Giorno was, but, again, Dio didn’t need to know that. 

So it was a refuge that Dio was seeking. How fascinating. He was asking- no- begging Giorno for his help. 

Giorno held his father’s continual existence in his hands. 

He had a faint idea of what harbouring Dio in his compound meant. Surely people were looking for him… Powerful people.  

But was Passione not the most powerful organisation in the world? Giorno had puppeteer strings in all of Italy, nay, all of Europe. Surely whatever global juggernaut came their way- they could face it with ease.  

He looks to Dio again. He still had glass shards digging into his skin from the window but looked utterly unfazed by it. Giorno could pick out some glaring similarities in the pair of them. The same curled blonde hair, the same sharp jawline- the same austere pretentious manor. He had always wondered about the circumstances of his own existence. He knew enough that it was not intended- not by his mother, at least. 

But his father had always been a mystery plaguing his life.

As the leader of Passione, perhaps he ought to know to take personal cases away from the organisation. After all, that had been the downfall of his predecessor, Diavolo. 

But Giorno was better- more powerful. And his intentions were far purer. 

He watches as a crack in Dio’s foundation appears. They’d been trapped in silence for too long. Giorno thinks Dio may be getting antsy- or close to losing his composure. He swears he sees him stumble ever so slightly. He was weak at the moment- not at his full power. That was for certain- no matter if Dio admitted it or not. 

This may be his last chance to get answers to the questions that had been plaguing his head for the last eighteen years.

“Follow me.” Giorno says, sizing him up, “I assume you are still a… ‘person’ that requires rest. I’ll show you to my private quarters.” 

Giorno swears he sees relief pool in Dio’s eyes- but in the darkness of night, he wasn’t all that sure. Giorno had always been an expert at reading people- but Dio continued to be an enigma to him. For now, at least. 

“I’ll allow you the night to recuperate. But do not expect to get off lightly in the morning. I have a multitude of questions to ask of you. You'll be guarded at all times.” Giorno says, beginning to walk out the door. 

He expects Dio to follow in his footsteps.

But the man remains stark still. 

Well, he does until his body hits the ground with a gargantuan thump once more.

Giorno’s eyes widen in shock.

“Oh.” Is all Giorno says, looking at his father lying face down on the ground. 

Perhaps he was much more injured than Giorno had originally thought.

At the noise- Mista reenters the room with a flurry. “Giorno are you okay-” He cries, quite obviously aware that he was breaching Giorno’s rules of total solitude. He had his gun fully cocked and it looked to have been so for quite a while. 

Giorno had a sneaking suspicion he’d been standing outside the door this whole time. 

“Holy shit you killed him.” 

“I did not kill him,” Giorno replies, his mouth curling distastefully. “Come on, help me get him to my room.”

“What?!” Mista replies, incredulous. 

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Giorno raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

Mista scratches his head, sheepish. “No.” 

As the pair of them work in silence to move Dio from one room to the next- Mista feels a series of questions itch at him. “...Is it true? Is this guy really your father?”

“So you were listening in?” Giorno narrows his eyes at him. He wasn’t mad. Not really. 

“I was worried!” Mista replied, “this dude,” he stares down at Dio’s unconscious face. “He looks like bad news…”

“Mista, this is the mafia- all of us are ‘bad news.’” 

Mista is still frowning, studying Dio’s face like it was going to be on a test. 

Giorno just watches him do it- watches the cogs in his head turn like a complicated old clock.

“...He’s kind of hot.” 

“Mista. No.”

Notes:

lmao mista yes

 
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Chapter 3: affare

Summary:

Kujo fixes his jaw. “You’re one stubborn little shit.”

“Is that any way to speak to your uncle?”

It seemed that this night would be completely devoid of peace. 

...And just as his book was getting good.

Giorno and Mista amble their way into his private chambers- Dio in hand. It’s a tiring task- even with Giorno’s stand’s intervention. Dio was just such a towering being that both Giorno and GER couldn’t help but fumble with him ever so slightly. Mista tried his best to assist- but Giorno could safely say that Sex Pistols had done jackshit. 

In the end, they make it down the hall without too much more difficulty and place the now-passed-out Dio under the covers of Giorno’s perfectly made bed. 

In sleep (or comatose,) the man hardly looks like a foe. Without his brow creased and the scowl on his face- he lacks the malicious aura he fostered whilst he was awake. 

It was an interesting sight to see- and undoubtedly one that Dio definitely didn’t want him to know of- let alone Mista.

“Are you sure he’s your dad? He looks like he’s like, twenty-something.” Mista muses, putting a hand on his chin. "More like an older brother." 

“I have an inkling he isn’t entirely human, Mista,” Giorno replies, looking down at the slumbering being with a curious eye. 

He would have to find out at a later time. 

But for now… 

There would have to be someone to keep watch. Giorno was a busy man and he just couldn’t disregard his duties to play house. He couldn’t risk it being Mista either- and he didn’t trust his underlings enough with such compelling information against him... 

Which meant that only left himself. 

Or… well, a part of himself.  

Without much more thought on the matter, Giorno touches the armoire by his bed stand- transforming the object into a hulking Doberman. The creature would assuredly make a large racket should there be a disturbance- thus creating a fault-proof alarm system. 

The dog blinks at him but remains completely unaware of the fact that it didn’t exist about a minute ago. It will do everything that Giorno needs it to do, for it is, in a way, part of him.  

Despite seeing that it wasn’t alive in the slightest- Mista cooed at the ‘animal,’ patting it on its head with a smile.     

The pair of them are allowed one moment of reprieve to ruminate on their next move. 

Then, as if on cue- the next problem arose like the evening tide.

“Boss!” There’s a frantic knock at the door- making both Giorno and Mista jump. Giorno could tell from the sound of the voice that it was one of the lower-ranking henchmen of the grounds, Russo.

From what Giorno could recall- he lacked a stand but had enough common sense to not ask questions. 

“What is it?” Giorno asks, keeping his voice calm, as always.

“We got a guy here we caught trying to snoop around the grounds, boss. He keeps insisting that you talk to him.” There’s a shrill notch of panic in the man’s voice. “‘Says he’s from the Speedwagon Foundation.” 

Giorno and Mista exchange a glance. Then a nod.

...So the trouble had already begun.

That was fast.

Giorno recalls a time ago when he’d heard Signor Polnareff mention the Speedwagon Foundation. It seemed to be some kind of philanthropy organisation that funded archaeological digs. However, with the emergence of stands in their society- Giorno is fairly certain that that wasn’t all there was to it.  

“Take him to the parlour. I will see him there.” 

 

Giorno doesn’t really know what he expects to find in the room. He doesn’t really know what he expects in general with his entire situation, really. But Giorno Giovanna was an expert at bluffing- and this would be no different. 

“...What the fuck... Are you having some kind of family reunion I don’t know about?!” Mista whisper-yells at Giorno, looking at the man sitting on one of the lounges in the mansion’s parlour.

This man too had a striking resemblance to Giorno. However, he looked to be at least half Japanese- so perhaps he was a relative on his mother’s side?

Giorno knew all too well that that was far too much of a coincidence for it to be so. 

There was more to this situation than just a simple family tree, and Giorno was fairly certain that this man was in the know about it all.

“Release him,” Giorno says to the guards swamping the man. They had him in handcuffs and were overshadowing him like a palm tree. Giorno had a sneaking suspicion that that wouldn’t be the case had it not been for the fact that he was seated, however. 

He, just like Dio, seemed to be extremely tall. 

“B-but-”

Giorno raises a calculative eyebrow at the trio of guards. It’s enough to send them packing- the final lackey unlocks the handcuffs with worried haste and removes himself from the man’s personal space.

“Leave us,” Giorno says next. 

The henchmen do not hesitate to obey him this time. 

Mista is the sole person that stays behind. 

“Buonasera, Signore.  What can I do for you this evening?” Giorno looks to the man on the lounge. He hadn’t moved an inch from when Giorno had first entered the room. He just continued to stare at Giorno- studying him. 

Giorno takes a seat opposite of the man. Mista stands behind him, watchful. 

“My name is Kujo Jotaro.” The man finally spoke, his voice is low and intimidating- like a rumble of thunder. “I am a representative of the Speedwagon Foundation.” 

Giorno nods but does not offer his own name. He’s almost certain that this Kujo person already knew it, anyway.  

“I am under the impression that you are harbouring a dangerous individual that belongs in the custody of us.”

Ah, straight to the point. 

“I have no idea what you speak of,” Giorno replies.

Kujo furrows his brows. “I don’t believe you are fully aware of what this means for you, Giovanna.” 

Hmm, Giorno wasn’t sure he liked being referred to so crassly. It puts the beginnings of a frown on his face. Tilting his head, he narrows his gaze at Kujo Jotaro. 

“Enlighten me then.” 

Kujo takes a breath.

 

 

Giorno’s composure was beginning to crack. 

“I apologise Signore...?”

“Kujo. Kujo Jotaro.”

“I apologise Signor Kujo. I don’t believe I heard you correctly…?”

A sigh. “Your biological father is the stand-wielding master vampire, Dio Brando, who, in 1889, stole my great-great grandfather’s body and attempted to take over the world. I killed him once, nearly fifteen years ago now- but it seems… The bastard just won’t stay dead.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Mista whispers from behind him.

Giorno couldn’t agree more.

He, however, manages to keep his sentiments to himself. Taking a sip of the wine that he had poured for himself, (Kujo had abstained,) he stares at the man with a raised brow. He had anticipated the idea of his father being… not human- but a vampire? 

Well, he supposed that that sort of made sense… Perhaps. In a world as bizarre as this, there was nothing that they could truly anticipate...    

“So that makes me your… great-great-uncle?” Giorno muses- mirth evident in his tone.

Kujo nods, begrudgingly. “In a sense.” He replies with a frown. “But I’m not here for some family reunion.” 

“I didn’t think so,” Giorno replies. 

“I know you’re holding Dio here. The Speedwagon Foundation picked him up on their radar. So either you’re harbouring him here knowingly, or he’s hiding to regain his strength right under your little organisation’s nose.’”

Giorno purses his lips, indignant towards the amount of disrespect that this Kujo fellow had shown him thus far. “And what if I was holding my father here? Do I not owe him sanctuary? I am his son, after all.” 

Giorno wasn’t entirely sure if he believed those sentiments. But the underlying fact was that Dio was within his grasp and he was quite unwilling to let him go now. His mother was neglectful. She'd never taught him to share.

Kujo seems displeased with the answer, he scowls before standing up. 

As Giorno expected, he easily towered over him. 

Despite this, Giorno continues to sip at his wine with his legs primly crossed. Unintimidated. 

“I understand that you seem to have some kind of paternal bond with Dio.” Kujo spits, “but I can tell you that that man has no such feelings for you. If you think you’re going to get any more answers from him than you are from me- you're an imbecile.” 

“With all due respect, Signor Kujo, I will have to disagree.” 

He pauses. “This man has killed hundreds- he’s-”

“So have I.” 

Kujo fixes his jaw. “You’re one stubborn little shit.”

“Is that any way to speak to your uncle?” 

He scowls, “I see you’re unwilling to part with your dear father.”  Kujo grits, his hatred prominent. “Then I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.” 

Giorno sighs. This was troublesome. He really wasn’t looking to fight Kujo. Despite the man’s evident dislike for both him and his father- he seemed like a genuinely good person. 

Rising from his chair, he stands to meet Kujo’s eyes. 

It was quite difficult for him to do so- due to their height difference, but Giorno was never one to let that bother him… outwardly.

He waits for Kujo to make the first move- curious to see what unique powers the man seemed to harbour. 

Instead, there is no first blow. No, instead, Kujo looks as if he is swallowing his pride with a bitter pill. 

In a swift motion, he holds out his hand for Giorno to shake. 

“I have been told by one of my informants that your stand has powerful capabilities.” He says in rapid succession, “I believe this has the possibility of… subduing Dio to a decent degree…” Kujo looks like there’s an awful taste in his mouth. “I would much prefer killing the bastard but if he’s just going to keep popping up again like a fucking cockroach then…” He looks at Giorno, “the organisation requests a truce.” 

“I thought I told you that-”

“Understand that this is a compromise on our part.” Kujo snaps. “You’re not stupid enough to look a gift horse in the mouth, are you?” 

Giorno regards him with a displeased air. He considers his options. He could just disagree- dispose of Kujo and continue with this little investigation by himself...

...But there was still so much left about Dio that he wanted to know. He had countless questions that needed to be answered- and Giorno thinks that Kujo Jotaro is far more knowledgeable than he is letting on.

“Fine,” Giorno says, “but he stays here.”

Kujo sighs, long-suffering and tired. Giorno catches him swearing under his breath. “Fine.” He spits. 

Giorno smiles and grabs a hold of his hand, shaking it. He motions for Mista to refill his wine glass. “Leave the bottle,” he tells him. 

He was going to need it.

Notes:

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Chapter 4: ricordi

Summary:

“The man in the hallway is my great-great-nephew who killed-” he points to Dio, “my father about fifteen years ago… Oh, and my father? A stand-user vampire, might I mention... Anyway it obviously didn’t work for long, because he crashed through my window about…” Giorno looks at his watch, “-two hours ago, asking for help before falling into a coma on my carpet.”

Trish just stares at him.

A silence passes between all three of them.

 

“Giorno, your dad is kinda hot.”

 

“Trish, please.”

Kujo Jotaro seemed like the kind that worked alone- but to Giorno’s shock, it seemed that that wasn’t the case at all. He was very much in contact with the people within the foundation- which meant he would be harder to bargain with.

“Though your dramatic entrance into my compound was impressive, Signor Kujo- I do think I ought to meet your colleagues somewhere slightly more... neutral.” Giorno tells him, still seated on the lounge opposite of the man. “If my henchmen think I’m just letting anyone in, they’ll get the wrong impression.” He explained, “I know of a few discreet restaurants and cafes in the area… Unless you have somewhere else in mind...? Of course this will have to be done tomorrow. I have many things to attend to.” 

Kujo fixes his jaw, frowning. “How do I know you’re not going to run off with that vampire asshole while I’m gone?”

“Excellent question,” Giorno replies, leaning forward in his chair. “I guess you’re just going to have to trust me.” 

Kujo furrows his brow, “I don’t trust you.” 

“That is quite unfortunate… Then what are you to do?” Giorno supposes, shrugging his shoulders in pseudo sympathy. “I thought I was the one doing you a favour?” 

Mista cocks his gun from behind Giorno. 

Kujo rises from his chair. “Look, kid, I’m not thrilled by this little agreement we have already. But you’re on thin fucking ice.” 

Giorno raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Kujo doesn’t say anything else to him for the moment. Instead, he pulls out a cellular device from his jacket pocket. He fiddles around with it for a moment before putting it to his ear. He begins speaking Japanese.

“Oi, Josuke, come here... and bring Rohan.” 

Giorno isn’t sure if he’s more impressed by Kujo’s tenacity- or just plain indignant. There were very few people in this world that had the guts to stand up to a mafia Don- and Kujo Jotaro seemed to be one of them. Either that or he had a death wish. “I don’t believe you heard me the first time, Signor Kujo.” Giorno bites, “I won’t have anyone else breaking into my grounds tonight.” 

Kujo continues to look more and more pissed off. “Until I can ensure that you won’t run off to play happy families with the biggest dick on this Earth, I’m going to do what I want.” 

“And what makes you think these two other people can help you out?” 

Kujo doesn’t reply, but the mildly dastardly smirk on his face says enough for Giorno to know that whatever was coming- it was going to be a pain in the ass. 

“What if I were to allow you to see him for yourself? Would that satisfy you?” Giorno asks, trying his best to de-escalate the situation. Giorno was confident- but not stupid. He didn’t know enough about Kujo’s colleagues to assume it would be a fair fight. 

At Giorno’s proposition, Kujo raises an eyebrow. 

“Call off your men, and I’ll show you. That way we know we can trust one another, sì?” Giorno says carefully, already plotting out alternate plans in his mind. Kujo had forced his hand and it was entirely unsatisfactory. But, if that was what avoided a fight- Giorno would do it. He didn’t actually like killing good people- despite what many people would think. 

...And despite his glaring personality issues, Kujo Jotaro was a good person. 

An asshole, but a good person. 

Before Giorno knows it, Kujo is on his phone again. He speaks in a clipped voice- presumably to the person he’d called previous. ‘Josuke’ if Giorno could remember correctly… The device is back in his pocket before Giorno knows it.

“...Fine.” He says, a scowl on his face. “Give me a look at the bastard and I’ll back off for now.” 

Giorno nods, beginning to stand. “Mista,” he says- making eye contact with the other man. Without another word and a simple look- Mista is aware of what he must do next. Get Trish.

Trish Una was a regular occupant of the house. Despite her lack of mafia activity- Giorno had let her stay because he felt he owed it to Bucciaratti to make sure no danger came to her again. And maybe… just maybe… He enjoyed her company as a friend. 

 

In exchange, Giorno, on occasion, utilised her unique stand ability. Tonight would most likely be one of those times.

 

The walk up the stairs is a tense one. Kujo follows him silently- watching Giorno like a hawk. Without Mista at his side Giorno has to admit that he feels a little naked. Despite the fact that he could very well hold his own against any opponent- he liked having the sharpshooter with him anyway. Mista was very nearly the only person left in all of Italy that still treated him as anything but the ‘boss'.

“If you make a move against me or my father, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” Giorno tells him, looking over his shoulder to ensure that Kujo was aware of how serious he truly was. “I’m not fully aware of the history you two share, but I won’t tolerate any physical aggression toward either of us.”

“You really think you can kill me?” Kujo looks at him like he’s a child. It’s something that Giorno has grown accustomed to. That perception never stayed, though. Not after they saw what he was capable of... 

Unfortunately, though, Giorno doesn’t think that cutting off one of Kujo’s fingers will do either of them any good.  

“Oh, I know I can kill you.” Giorno replies curtly, beginning to ascend the final flight of stairs to the third floor. He looks at Kujo for a brief moment before he blinks.

And then he’s gone.

Giorno’s eyes widen in surprise.

...What…?  

“You do?” Kujo’s voice is coming from in front of him now. Giorno whips his head forward to find Kujo, now on the top of the staircase with his arms crossed, looking unimpressed. He raises his eyebrow at Giorno. “I learnt this little trick from your shitty old man.”

Giorno feels the familiar sensation of his heart hammering in his chest. This felt all too familiar to his battle with Diavolo- and he didn’t like it one bit. He lost too many of his friends in that war. He wouldn’t let it happen again. He became Don to make sure it didn’t. Was Giorno’s judgement of Kujo incorrect? Was he a foe after all?

“Oi,” Kujo’s voice breaks Giorno’s chain of thought. He thinks he even senses a small slither of worry etched into the man’s voice. 

It’s only then that Giorno realises, rather embarrassingly, that he had probably looked like a deer in the headlights at that moment. Diavolo always brought up a barrage of bad memories- but he’d never shut down like that in front of another person- and it was in front of Kujo Jotaro too. Ugh.

Giorno clears his throat, “I’ve fought someone with a stand similar to yours. Seeing how I’m here and he’s not- it’s safe to say that I won.” 

“...It doesn’t look that way to me.” 

Giorno ignores the impulse to shoulder the man out of his path. “This way,” he scowled.

 

---

 

“Josuke, you utter buffoon.” Rohan stomps around a secluded streetway in Italy, stopping only to wack Josuke on the shoulder with a newspaper he’d found on the sidewalk. He would have gone for the head but he, unfortunately, wasn’t tall enough. 

Not to mention that he would probably fucking die if he so much as nudged Josuke’s hair again. “I thought you told me we were coming to Jotaro-san’s assistance!” He looks beyond pissed- but then again that was just Rohan. Especially when he was in the general vicinity of Higashikata Josuke.

“Yeah, well, he said we apparently aren't needed now.” Josuke replies, trying to snatch the paper out of Rohan’s hands. He’s not quick enough this time. “Guess you didn’t need to put on your slutty clothes, after all.”

“How dare you!” Rohan scowls, “ all my clothes are slutty.” 

“Yeah but you took time out of your day to get changed again when you heard Jotaro-san might need our help.” 

“He asked for me specifically.” Rohan preens, looking momentarily pleased. “I couldn’t embarrass him with my drab airport outfit.”

Josuke eyes the sheer amount of weird shit currently on Rohan’s person. “I think he’s going to be embarrassed, either way.” 

Rohan goes to whack him again but Josuke manages to catch it. He’d been expecting a blow after that comment, after all. 

In a sly move, he throws the paper into the trash can behind him. Nothing but net. He suppresses a celebratory fist pump. “It doesn’t matter anyway... Let’s just head back. This means that the Giovanna kid is probably choosing to cooperate so that’s good, I guess.” He says, scratching the back of his neck. He looks around the streets with a wary eye. If he were on vacation he’s certain that this place would be great for partying and just general tomfoolery- but because Jotaro had specifically asked for Josuke to accompany him- well, he was a little less eager to get to drinking. Even if Jotaro was technically his nephew- Josuke would rather die than disappoint him.

“Kid?” Rohan huffed, “he’s only two years younger than you are- and way more successful, may I add.” 

Josuke frowns, “you may not.”

Rohan has decided to lay off the physical abuse for now and instead starts to trudge away from Josuke. He would have been worried about losing the guy had it not been for the constant ‘clinking’ sound from all of Rohan’s jewellery. He sounded like a sashaying junk shop. 

“Oi, where ya’ going?” 

Rohan whips his head around to glare at him. “Higashikata Josuke, has it perhaps occurred to you that maybe Giovanna was forcing Jotaro-san to call us off? He could very well be in great danger still!” 

Josuke purses his lips. That was an interesting notion. Rohan did have a point in saying that- Jotaro could very well be in trouble but unable to say so. “I guess?” 

“So come on,” Rohan scowls. “Let’s head over there.” 

Josuke didn’t really want to go back to the hotel, anyway. So he just nods. If Jotaro wasn’t in trouble and they came- the worst they would get is a talking to, right? 

...But if they didn’t come and Jotaro truly was in peril… Well, Josuke didn’t even want to think about that.

 

“...You know you have to ask for my blessing to date my nephew,” Josuke follows Rohan with a shit-eating grin. Nothing brought him more joy than bothering the guy. 

“Higashikata Josuke I will skin you like the animal you are and wear you as a coat.” 

Rohan says all of this without so much as a blink.

 

---

 

 

Giorno eyes Kujo with a keen stare, watching for any sign of pre-emptive motion. He stands at the doorway of Giorno’s quarters with an indescribable expression on his face. He did not draw his eyes away from the figure in the bed once. 

His hands are fists at his side, and they shake perceptively. He does not make a move to fulfil their want. He remains still. 

This isn’t going as Giorno had anticipated. From the obvious hate that Kujo Jotaro had shown when retelling the events of Egypt- Giorno was almost certain that he would need to intervene as soon as he opened the door. 

The hate was still there, though, prominent and coming off in waves out of Kujo’s body... But he seemed to be a man of his word. Perhaps he had reigned in his temper a touch. 

“Tomorrow.” He grits- looking like the word was hard to get out of his mouth.

Giorno blinks, “I beg your pardon?” 

“Meet me at hotel Tramonto at 2pm tomorrow.” 

It’s the only thing he says before he turns on his heel and heads straight out of the door.

Giorno raises his eyebrows. 

“Giorno!” Mista comes in next, bypassing Kujo at the door. Trish is in hot pursuit. “Is everything good?” 

Giorno continues to watch the top of Kujo’s head descending the stairs. 

“Yes.” He answers. “Sorry for rudely interrupting your study, Trish. I’m afraid I was incorrect.” 

Trish waves it off, “who was that guy, Giorno?” She asks, taking a cursory look over his room before her eyes finally stop over Dio. “And who is that guy?” 

Giorno didn’t like to lie- he wasn’t very good at it. That wasn’t to say that he wasn’t exceptionally adept at embellishing the truth... 

...But the night was growing older and older- and Giorno wanted nothing more than to get back to his book. He still had to deal with Kujo out in the hall so he decides to just cut to the chase. 

“The man in the hallway is my great-great-nephew who killed-” he points to Dio, “my father about fifteen years ago… Oh, and my father? A stand-user vampire, might I mention... Anyway it obviously didn’t work for long, because he crashed through my window about…” Giorno looks at his watch, “-two hours ago, asking for help before falling into a coma on my carpet.” 

Trish just stares at him. 

A silence passes between all three of them.

 

“Giorno, your dad is kinda hot.”

 

“Trish, please.”

Notes:

jotaros habit of adopting little shit teenagers outweighs his habit of throwing hands with five year olds but that doesnt mean both of those things wont happen 2 giorno

 
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Chapter 5: mezzanotte

Summary:

“I mean, shit, Giorno- you’re their spitting image.” Mista says from over his shoulder. He jabs a finger over toward Jonathan’s face- “look you’ve got his eyes and-” he points over to Dio, “his bitchy face.”

Giorno scowls at him. “Mista.”

Mista gasps, gesturing to his expression, “yeah! That’s the one!”

Giorno follows after Kujo without another moment to spare. He leaves Trish to her own devices but decides that Mista ought to follow him. He’d never admit it to anyone but himself- but he truly did feel more at ease with the gunslinger at his side. 

Kujo is standing halfway down the stairwell- almost as if frozen in time. His expression is unreadable- but he looks up when he hears their footsteps. 

“Something was different about him.” He admits. Kujo was a quiet man, Giorno had to strain his ears to hear him. “It was Dio… But it wasn’t. ”

“...Just what do you mean by that?” Giorno looks more curious than anything else. Just what in the world was Kujo Jotaro proposing? 

“I’m saying that I saw that bastard disintegrate into dust in the 80’s and he definitely didn’t come back the same.” 

Giorno raises an eyebrow, “how are you so certain?”

“My great-great grandfather… He was built like a brick shithouse- I’ve seen photos of him and it would be safe to say that he wouldn’t even fucking fit through some of these doorways... When that bastard took his body- he obviously had the same build… But now…” Kujo purses his lips before beginning to fish through his pockets. “He seems to look more like he did when he was still ‘alive’.” 

Kujo finally unearths a copy of an ancient photograph from his pocket and holds it out for the other to take. Giorno takes it delicately into his hands. 

There are two young men in the photograph- both wearing victorian clothing. They look to be around the same age as Giorno is now. 

The one on the right- Giorno presumes to be Jonathan- is, just as Kujo had described- both incredibly tall and muscular. So much so that his head was very nearly cut off by the photograph (ironic.) The next figure- to the right- harbouring an expression that nearly mirrored Giorno’s own fake smile to a tee- was Dio Brando. He was quite nearly as tall as Jonathan- but a little more lean- and twice as malevolent looking. Even as a human, Dio Brando looked like a villain.

Mista whistles from behind him.

...If Giorno were to consider the two men’s body types- he would have to admit that the current Dio’s was much closer to this presumed original one. It was hard to tell in the polaroid that Giorno had- but, at some point during his presumed ‘death’ he had somehow reverted back to his old body.

When Dio had arrived through his window, the vampire had been shrouded in darkness. Giorno hadn’t the mind to think about his exact build… Either way he was taller and stronger looking than he was, (curse you, genetics,) so he hadn’t thought to check thoroughly. 

“I mean, shit, Giorno- you’re their spitting image.” Mista says from over his shoulder. He jabs a finger over toward Jonathan’s face- “look you’ve got his eyes and-” he points over to Dio, “his bitchy face.” 

Giorno scowls at him. “Mista.” 

Mista gasps, gesturing to his expression, “yeah! That’s the one!”

Kujo clears his throat. “Don’t be late.” Is all he says before descending the stairs again. After seeing Dio he had been oddly compliant- Giorno couldn’t understand what his angle was, but whatever it was, Giorno had seen worse. He could take it.

He quickly returns the photograph back to Kujo's person with a polite hand gesture.

“Buona notte, Signor Kujo.” 

Kujo nods, still clearly unimpressed with him.

Nevertheless, the night hadn’t ended in death- so Giorno would consider that a victory.

He lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding when he hears the front door close. “It has been quite an evening.”

“You could say that again.” Mista replies, stretching out his arms with a yawn. “Talk about a fucked up family tree... Guess you can’t be the leader of Passione without some weird shit going on with your bloodline.” 

Giorno hums. He couldn’t agree more. “...Say, Mista, did you make your bed this morning?”

“Yes?” 

“Was that a lie?”

“...No?”

Giorno blinks at him, trying to massage out a knot in his shoulder. “Good, because I’m sleeping in there tonight.” 

“Hah?!” Mista’s eyebrows nearly go all the way into his hat.

“It’s the room nearest to Dio. I should be in close proximity just in case I need to intervene, no?” 

“But-”

“Don’t worry, you can join me.”

Mista gapes at him, the beginnings of a flush appearing on his sun-kissed skin. “You-”

Perhaps Giorno is still feeling a little petty over Mista’s opinion on Dio because he ascends the remainders of the stairs before turning back to him with a smile.

“We just had the place carpeted so it should be rather comfortable on the floor.”

Notes:

i spend my time imagining what a family dinner including dio, giorno and jonathan wud b like

 

 

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Chapter 6: assisstenza

Summary:

“Electrocution never killed anyone. You’re just a pussy.”
“Are you- I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

Josuke scowls, his displeasure prominent even in the stark blackness of the surrounding areas of the Passione headquarters. “We really should have brought Okuyasu...”

“If you’d have brought that blockhead I would have thrown myself into that fence faster than you could say ‘bro.’”

“Bro, bro, bro, bro, bro.”

“Go and fuck yourself, Josuke.”

“Fuck me yourself, you coward.”

Jotaro Kujo found the mere concept of Giorno Giovanna to be troublesome. Not only was he yet another illegitimate child in the Joestar line- but he was also, at the very least, a third Dio. 

...Not that he so much cared about the legitimacy of his cursed ass family’s bloodline- It was more so just because, well, their family tended to be unable to go unnoticed or stay out of danger for too long. Having a star birthmark on your shoulder meant you were bound to run into fucked up hijinks. No exceptions. 

It just threw more wrenches into the mix when people started sleeping around. (Cough, cough, JOSEPH.)

As Jotaro walks out of the mansion gates, hand in his pockets, he lets out a long-suffering sigh. Giovanna certainly wasn’t a happy-go-lucky trickster like Josuke- he could do serious damage if he had the desire. Luckily, though, it seemed that he harboured a very Joestar-like sense of (borderline suicidal) justice. That, at the very least, could be used to their advantage. He didn’t seem to have blind faith in his father- but he did, however, hold an unwavering pigheadedness when it came to keeping him alive. 

Perhaps Jotaro could see the reasoning in that. He’d basically grown up without a father as well. Having them suddenly reappear after so many years of absence would be enough to send anyone into a spin. Let alone an evil, vampiric- by all intents and purposes dead father.

He gets all of three metres out of the complex before he hears the familiar sounds of two voices. 

Turning his head to the side and squinting in the dark- he spies both Josuke and Rohan, squawking at each other loudly into the night.

“Josuke you dim-witted fuckhead, we can’t climb over the fence- it’s electrified.” 

“Electrocution never killed anyone. You’re just a pussy.”

“Are you- I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.” 

Josuke scowls, his displeasure prominent even in the stark blackness of the surrounding areas of the Passione headquarters. “We really should have brought Okuyasu...” 

“If you’d have brought that blockhead I would have thrown myself into that fence faster than you could say ‘bro.’”

“Bro, bro, bro, bro, bro.”

“Go and fuck yourself, Josuke.”

“Fuck me yourself, you coward.” 

“Sorry, bitch, you’re not the right Joestar for me.”  

Jotaro intervenes before they decide to kill one another. “What in the hell are you two doing here? I thought I told you to head back?” 

Rohan stiffens at the sound of his voice- his posture being the only thing straight about him.

Josuke just scratches the back of his neck, uncomfortable. “Oh! Jotaro-san! We thought you might have been in trouble! We weren’t really sure about Giovanna’s entourage and their stand abilities… So we wanted to check up on you just in case you were in hot water and couldn’t say so.”

“I’m fine,” Jotaro says bluntly, a frown already on his lips. He’d almost been looking forward to a quiet walk back to the hotel. Now, though, that seemed near impossible. Still, it had been proactive of the two of them to suspect something being amiss. He couldn’t fault them for that. “Thanks anyway.” 

“It was no problem at all, Jotaro-san!” Rohan declared, his chin raised proudly. “I simply suspected that you may need my assistance.” 

Jotaro doesn’t answer, simply humming before beginning to walk back toward their temporary residence. The pair aren’t dense enough not to follow after him. 

The clicking sound of Rohan’s heeled boots is the main source of noise for a majority of the trip. That and the constant jingling of his accessories. 

It doesn’t last though. The quiet never lasted. 

Josuke matches pace with him, a curious brow quirked upwards. “Sooo… What was the Giovanna kid like?” 

“Annoying.” Jotaro answers. 

“Was Dio there like you thought he was?” 

“Yes.”

“Did you…?” Josuke makes a hasty motion with his finger, using it as a faux knife and sliding it across his neck.  

Jotaro blinks. “No.”

“Are you going to kill him?” 

“No.” He replies, his frown deepening. Josuke was just going to keep asking questions if he kept answering like this. He decides to throw the guy a bone. “Giovanna is meeting with us tomorrow to discuss our next move.” 

“Is Dio coming too?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Comatose.”

“Holy shit, really?” 

“Yes.” 

“Josuke! Stop bothering Jotaro-san.” Rohan scowls, “he doesn’t want you badgering him the entire way home.” 

Jotaro couldn’t help but agree with that statement. Though he did like Josuke- he was a little… energetic for his tastes. Much better in small doses. 

Josuke glares at the mangaka. Rohan had been trailing behind for a while now- silent and observing. “Speaking of feral pests, you’ve been awfully quiet, Rohan.” The other says, looking over his shoulder with a haughty grin. 

“I’m simply admiring the view,” Rohan replies, obviously trying his best to keep his cool.

Jotaro nods at that notion. The lights of the city were quite prominent from up here... But he was more interested in the mysterious abyss of the nearby ocean- it was quite a serene sight.

Josuke surmised that Rohan was looking at neither the water nor the city lights- but Jotaro’s ass. However, he didn’t necessarily want to die tonight- so he bit his tongue. He thinks he’ll keep it in his arsenal for later purposes. He may not want this night to be the one where he’s decapitated- but there was always tomorrow and the day after that.

 

It seemed that this case would not be open and shut within a day. Though Jotaro had never anticipated the journey to subdue Dio again- to be easy. He had sort of hoped to have at least kicked the fucker’s face in by now. 

Tomorrow would undoubtedly be a tiresome charade and Jotaro just wanted it all to be over with. 

 

In fact, Jotaro wanted nothing more than to be a fucking starfish right now. Just sitting in the ocean, chilling on a rock... That was the fucking life.

Notes:

rohan being a thot 4 jotaro is the funniest fucking thing ever to me no i wont take criticism

 
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Chapter 7: tartaruga

Summary:

He’d brought her to Italy in an act that was most assuredly not borne of his own volition. It was never a good idea to bring children on missions, after all.

...Let alone missions involving a vampire that, last time Jotaro had checked- wanted to eliminate his entire fucking bloodline.

The next day burns with a particularly bright intensity. 

Perhaps it was due to the fact that it had begun long before Jotaro had gone to bed. Or perhaps it was due to the fact that Jolyne had, for some reason, decided to pull all the curtains wide open in an act of sheer, adolescent rebellion.

Now, Jolyne was a well-behaved child most of the time- not that Jotaro necessarily spent a whole lot of time with her. (He had his own deep-seated guilt about that little factor.) But this current streak of trickery certainly wasn’t his favourite phase of hers.  

He’d brought her to Italy in an act that was most assuredly not borne of his own volition. It was never a good idea to bring children on missions, after all. 

...Let alone missions involving a vampire that, last time Jotaro had checked- wanted to eliminate his entire fucking bloodline. 

But it had been a last resort. 

Jotaro and his wife had been… giving each other some space as of late- and she’d handed Jolyne off to him with a passive-aggressive, ‘this is your daughter, just in case you’ve forgotten her face... Maybe you ought to spend more time with her, asshole.’ She was right- but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t pick up her fucking phone during an emergency! 

With the time crunch, he was currently on- and his best babysitter being fucking Josuke- he couldn’t very well figure something else out.

And thus, the ever bubbly Jolyne Kujo was their youngest party member in this little rendezvous.

Rest assured that young Jolyne hadn’t been left to her own devices while the other three were off galavanting in the Italian countryside, no- Rohan had thankfully had the hindsight to use ‘Heaven's Door’ on one of the hotel receptionists- essentially forcing her to be the best damn babysitter that Jolyne had ever had while the men were all out being… you know, idiots. 

Once they’d returned- Jolyne had been tucked away under the covers of her bed, sleeping soundly without a scratch on her. Jotaro wouldn’t have expected anything less than that. 

“Jolyne. I thought I told you to go do some colouring.” Jotaro groaned, trying to shield his eyes from the rays of light that had decided to whack him straight in the face. 

“I don’t wanna,” Jolyne replies with a chirp, pulling the heavy curtains back and forth- giggling at the whooshing sound it made as it moved.  

Jotaro sighs- slowly coming to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep at the current moment. Fine. He gets up with a huff, moving over to where his daughter was. He pets her on the head- careful not to mess up her braids. She’d always been fussy about them. 

“Do you want breakfast?” He asks her, his voice still gruff with sleep. 

Jolyne looks back at him, her eyes wide with excitement as she nodded. “Can we have pizza for breakfast?” 

“No.” 

Jolyne’s face falls in an instant. “Huh!? But dad, we’re in Italy!” 

“Italians don’t eat pizza for breakfast.” 

Jolyne pouts, crossing her arms. Jotaro regards her coolly. He doesn’t think he could handle an outburst right now. He’d probably just evaporate into nothingness. 

Just then, Josuke bursts into the room- holding a great big basket of what looks to be funny shaped bread rolls in one arm- and a tray of hot drinks in the other. “Good morning!” He cries, cheery as ever. His hair, as always, was in its immaculate updo. Jotaro had yet to see it down. “The bakery next door smelled so good that I went and got some stuff for us.” He declared, placing the basket down on the small counter.

“Uncle Josuke!” Jolyne’s eyes light up. Her attention immediately shifted from the upcoming waterworks- thank fuck. 

She’d been calling him ‘Uncle Josuke’ ever since they’d met. It was much easier than trying to explain to her the fucked up mess that was the Joestar family tree. (Thanks Joseph and Dio.) “Did you bring pizza?” 

Josuke laughs, booping the young girl’s nose. “You can’t eat pizza for breakfast, kiddo… right?” He considers the notion for a moment. It did sound pretty good … He looks to Jolyne’s father in question. 

“Right,” Jotaro confirms- wanting nothing more than some silence. And not pizza at eight in the fucking morning.

Josuke nods- and Jotaro thinks, for a moment, that he was going to start crying too. 

Jotaro looks to his watch with steely neutrality. “We have a few hours before Giovanna gets here with his men. I think we should all go over what we know.” 

Josuke sobers at the statement. It looked like he’d momentarily forgotten that they hadn’t just come to Italy for a nice holiday. They actually had shit to do. “Yeah, that sounds good,” he frowns, nodding his head toward the door, “sleeping beauty isn’t awake yet, though.” The aforementioned ‘Sleeping Beauty’ is, Jotaro presumes, Rohan. 

“Can I go wake him up!?” Jolyne holds her hand up, volunteering with a grin. She’s begun munching on one of the bread rolls from the basket with eager hands.

Josuke gets an evil look in his eye. 

“Absolutely, kiddo!” He smiles wider, ruffling her hair, (much to Jolyne’s chagrin,) “but he’s a heavy sleeper- so you’ll need to jump on him!” 

Jolyne giggles, obviously picking up what he was putting down. “Okay!” 

The pair rushed out of the door without notice- laughing to themselves. Those two had gotten on like a house on fire ever since Jotaro had brought Jolyne to Morioh a few years ago. 

...He isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or not. 

Jotaro sighs, whether it was or wasn’t; the sound of the slamming door was music to his ears. 

 

Jotaro gets to relish in a real, concrete second of quiet before he hears, through the walls- an ungodly shriek. 

It seemed that sleeping beauty had been awakened. 

...And it certainly wasn’t by true love’s kiss.

 

Ugh. What an unlikely team of idiots. A haughty middle schooler, a pompadoured dumbass and a sleep-deprived mangaka with a twenty-seven-step skincare routine. 

Guess it wasn’t that much weirder than Egypt.

 

---

 

“Do you think he’ll ever actually… You know, wake up?” Mista asks, breaking the silence between them with a sledgehammer- as per usual. 

The pair were back in Giorno’s chambers, looking over Dio. 

He was still yet to regain consciousness and Giorno’s impatience was beginning to make itself known. 

Mista’s question most certainly didn’t do anything to ease his mood, either.

Nevertheless, the gunslinger doesn’t cease his chatter. His stunning lack of self-preservation was one of the reasons Giorno considered him to be a vital asset. “Have you tried using Gold Experience on him?” 

Giorno frowns, “I did.” Stepping closer to inspect the bed- he lays a cursory eye on his father. “There was no real effect on him- well, that I know of.” He continues, placing a hand on his chin. 

Mista groans, his discontent being made well-known. “God, this whole sitch is wack as shit.” 

“...This case is unprecedented.” Giorno replies curtly, “but I believe Signor Kujo may have a stand user that can assist us…” 

Mista nods from beside him. Giving the words some thought. “Good thing you didn’t kill him then, huh?”

Giorno hums in agreement, “I was never going to kill him, Mista. He’s family.” He turns on his heel and begins to head out of the room. “At most, I was going to lightly maim him.” 

 

In the end, Giorno’s entourage is modest at best. He liked to keep his teams small and to the point. With his Stand’s power- alongside Mista’s and Trish’s (and a side order of the funky turtle, Polnareff, just in case,) he’s certain that anything that the Joestar clan throw at them will be manageable. After all, Giorno practically ruled Italy at this point. If he truly was in dire need of assistance- he had an unlimited source of power at his fingertips. 

Well, all but the power to wake up his slumbering, century-old vampire father. Apparently.

 

---

 

“How do I look?” Josuke does a pose in front of the three sitting around the hotel room’s table- showcasing his outfit for the day. 

“Like an idiot,” replies Rohan, not looking up from the file in his hands- all the while fastening god-awful faux bird feather earrings onto his ear lobes.

“Don’t be mean, Roro!” Jolyne chides over her sketchbook. She turns her gaze over to Josuke and gives him a nod of approval. 

Josuke grins at her.

“Roro!?” Rohan spits, incredulous. 

“Yeah!” The smile that Jolyne directs at him lacks malice- something that Rohan was very used to seeing in people’s expressions (especially ones directed at him.) “I’m Jojo, and you’re Roro!” 

Josuke doesn’t hide his shit-eating grin, “haha yeah, what’s up Roro?! Not a fan of your new nickname? ”

‘Roro’ is about ten seconds away from skinning Josuke and making him into a tasteful living room rug when he remembers the small child sitting in front of him. 

He also remembers said small child’s hot dad sitting adjacent. 

...So he takes a deep breath and continues on. 

“You, um, colour very well, Jolyne.” He says- unsure of how to act with the girl- or with kids, in general. He was an only child and had always been more of a hermit. Children were loud and disruptive so he tended to stay away from them. But Jolyne (despite her rude awakening this morning,) seemed to, at the very least, be a very bright kid.

“Thanks!” She says, beaming- the gaps where her baby teeth had fallen out were prominent. She looked like a token cute kid in a sitcom. 

“I can draw good too!” 

“...Oh?”

Jolyne nods vigorously, turning over a page in her paper pad. She all but shoved the book into Rohan’s face. “See! This one here is me and my mom… Oh! and this one is a dolphin and this one here is Pink Dark Boy!” She exclaims all of this in one large breath with no pauses. 

“Pink Dark Boy?” Rohan raises his eyebrows. 

Jolyne nods, “yeah! He’s super cool! Dad reads it to me when he visits!” 

“He does?” Rohan looks over to Jotaro- who looks like he’d rather be literally anywhere else right now. He tugs his hat down further, hiding his eyes. 

Perhaps interacting with Jolyne wouldn’t be as difficult as Rohan thought. 

 

---

 

“Alright, there doesn’t seem to be anything shady with the building,” Mista affirms, hand on the pistol in his pocket. “We should be good to go in.” 

Giorno’s hand hovers on the door for just a split second. What would this meeting truly entail? Would he be entirely wrong about everything and be ambushed? Would they want to take Dio out from under his nose? Would they try to kill him?

He knocks.

He’d like to see them try.

Mista cocks his pistol, cautious. 

Trish rolls her eyes at the two of them.

The door opens up to a tired-looking Kujo Jotaro- appearing to be just about as enthusiastic as last time they’d seen one another. He was wearing a different variant of the same outfit as the night previous- with large pieces of obscure ocean-related pins and charms adorning both the hat and jacket. 

Giorno really had to appreciate the man’s attention to detail and commitment to his chosen theme. 

He offers no greeting, just opens the door wider for all three of them to enter through.

Giorno isn’t sure what he expects Kujo’s associates to be like.

But he certainly doesn’t expect this guy. 

‘Pompadour’ as Giorno will call him for now, sits at the table a few metres away from the door, a neutral expression on his face. He is undoubtedly part Japanese- just like Giorno, and he bears a striking resemblance to both Kujo and himself.

Ah, another relative.

Despite his rather roguish appearance- Pompadour’s face breaks out into a cheery smile when he sees them enter. Giorno can tell it’s genuine- and therefore, much more confusing.

When he rises from his chair- Giorno bites back a sigh.

Why was everyone in this damned family a walking skyscraper!?

Mista must see his expression because he has to bite back a laugh. 

Trish elbows his side to get him to stop. 

“Heya, you must be Giovanna-san!” Pompadour greets, he holds out his hand for Giorno to shake. 

Giorno takes it. 

“I’m Josuke! You’re my…” ‘Josuke’ pauses, obviously in thought. He begins counting something on his fingers. “Great-great uncle… I think? Ah, this family tree is a mess!” He laughs, looking like he’s about to continue speaking when he seemingly eyes Polnareff in Trish’s arms. 

He draws back with an exaggerated start, (and a mild shriek.) 

“Ah! Shit! Why’d ya bring a turtle of all things!?” 

At the mention of the sea creature, Kujo, opposed to Josuke- now looks visibly interested. 

“Ah,” Giorno says, confused by the exaggeration. “I apologise for startling you. You see, this turtle here is an associate of mine.” 

“...It has a stand?!” 

“Well, yes, but it is also being inhabited by a human…” Giorno doesn’t want to get into the events surrounding such things. “It’s an incredibly long story.” 

“Yeah I get that… I’ve seen weirder shit than a turtle with a stand, I guess.” Josuke scratches the back of his head, still visibly frazzled at the sight of the creature. He does his best to avoid eye contact. “They just really creep me out.”

Giorno nods in understanding before turning to the aforementioned pseudo reptile. “Signor Polnareff, why don’t you introduce yourself to Signor Kujo and the others to ease their peace of mind?” 

There’s a lull in the room where everything is silent for but a moment.

And then, “...Polnareff?!” Kujo exclaimed- at the exact same time that Polnareff shouts, “...Kujo?!”

“Holy shit it’s a talking turtle!!” Josuke, seemingly out of the loop just looks further freaked out. 

Another moment of respite passes through the room.

“Do the pair of you, perhaps… Know each other?” Giorno surmises, looking between the two of them.

“Giorno! You never told me we were going to meet with Jotaro!” Polnareff admonishes, “you don’t tell me anything! You can’t just pick me up and take me wherever you want!”

Giorno gives ‘Polnareff’ an apologetic expression. “Everything has happened so quickly that I neglected to remember. I’m sorry.” 

“Polnareff it really is you…” Jotaro’s eyes are wide now. “The foundation reported you missing years ago… I thought you were probably dead...”

An awkward silence passed between the group. 

“Alright, all of you! Get in the turtle! We’re having the talk in here now!” Polnareff demands, audibly pissed off. 

“The WHAT?!” Josuke exclaims. 

Giorno sighs.

What a mess.

Chapter 8: riunione

Summary:

“Hey, dude, if you’re in a wheelchair, and you have a stand… Do you call it a ‘sit?’”

Rohan is noticeably distracted by the sheer silence coming from the other room. This was supposed to be a rather critical debate between the foundation and Passione and yet there was nothing. 

Sure, he’d heard a few exclamations at the beginning of the rendezvous, but now?

Radio silence.

It was making him just the slightest bit nervous if he was being honest with himself. He understood why Jotaro had asked him to stay back- but he couldn’t help but feel a spiral of jealousy curl up into his stomach. Why was he relegated to babysitting duty while everyone else got to find out about the sexy, unkillable vampire?

It was unfair and completely went against all of Rohan’s nosy bitch tendencies. 

 

Jolyne, on the other hand, seemed to be having an absolute blast. 

Rohan, at the very least, had that to be proud over. 

Jotaro had told him that it was an absolute necessity that she be kept away from where they were speaking. They could only stay in the other room- and not go outside. Passione could very well have another team out there, ready to ambush them, after all. 

And so, with the fear of disappointing Jotaro crushing him down, Rohan resorted to something that he knew would keep Jolyne quiet and happy- but may just kill him on the inside.

He lets her play with all of his precious makeup. 

Rohan can feel his spine curl up into a ball every time Jolyne breaks the tip-off of one of his prized limited edition Dior lipsticks. His soul nearly flies out of his fucking body as she digs into his shimmering eyeshadow pallets like she’s in a desert trying to strike oil. 

When she starts using his gorgeous liquid eyeliner to draw pictures of dolphins- he decides it’s the final straw.

“Oh hey, Jolyne! How about you let me do your makeup!?” Rohan exclaims, much too loud. It’s taking everything in his will not to spontaneously combust.

Jolyne turns at the sound, the eyeliner still in her hand. 

She beamed at him, her smile so wide that Rohan could see smudges of his coral blue lip liner on her teeth. “Yes please!” 

...Oh thank fuck. 

 

---

 

There was always a consistently thin dividing line between, ‘their world’ crazy and just straight-up crazy- and Polnareff’s turtle self was toeing the fucking line for Jotaro. He hadn’t anticipated meeting his old friend here. In fact, Jotaro, quite frankly, had thought him dead for a little while now. After he disappeared a few years back- the Speedwagon foundation had been relentless in trying (in vain) to search for any kind of clue as to his current and/or previous whereabouts... 

...But as Jotaro knew by now, such a thing wasn’t quite as easy when it came to their world. A world filled with bullshit powers that bordered on maddening intricacy… It could mean that Polnareff was anywhere, nowhere or somewhere in between. 

Nevertheless, for a while now, Jotaro had thought himself to be, quite possibly, the last of the Stardust Crusaders standing.

And, well, in a fucked-up way, he was. 

“It’s good to see you Jotaro.” Polnareff greets from his wheelchair. His voice is no longer behind that of a turtle’s. Rather, it seems that the group of them had all been… transported(?) into the creature’s shell and thus, Polnareff’s current residence. He sits in front of them all, living (sort of) and breathing- his hair just as ridiculous as ever. 

Jotaro regards him with a wide-eyed stare. 

Josuke, on the other hand. Seems to be taking it all in with a little less composure. “Okay. What the FUCK.” He exclaims, whipping his head around his surroundings so fast that Jotaro fears the kid will get whiplash.

Every moment that they both stand there, Jotaro is more and more glad that he’d told Rohan and Jolyne to stay back in the other room in case something went awry. This situation was unprecedented and they needed a trump card up their sleeve in case it all went to shit.

The fact that their trump card was a bitchy twenty-something drama queen and a precocious pre-teen didn’t entirely instil confidence within him... 

...But Polnareff’s appearance by Giorno’s side did help a little bit. 

At the very least it proved him to be somewhat trustworthy.

Josuke is still eyeballing the room they were in with an intrigued enthusiasm. He looks borderline terrified over the fact that that he was in a turtle- but at the same time, downright ecstatic over the fact that they had been shrunken into a secret room. 

He finally stops moving his head around to level his gaze on Polnareff, whom of which was watching him with amusement. 

It’s like a lightbulb goes off in his head. 

“Hey, dude, if you’re in a wheelchair, and you have a stand… Do you call it a ‘sit?’”

Polnareff nods at the thought before recognition lights up behind his eyes. “Ah! You must be Josuke.”

The meeting was off to a fan-fucking-tastic start. Naturally. Jotaro sighs. This trip had already aged him like, twenty years and he’d only arrived yesterday.

The gunslinger man that Jotaro had caught a glimpse of the night previous slaps a hand around his mouth to stop himself from cracking up. The bright-haired girl beside him looks like she wants to throttle him.

Josuke lets out a whistle, “my reputation precedes me! It’s nice to meet you, Polnareff-san!” He bows slightly before looking at Giovanna’s lackeys. His eyes find the girl that Jotaro had dubbed ‘Pinky.’

“Woah! I love your hair! What products do you use to get it to do that swirly thing?!”  

‘Pinky’s’ eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Oh! I was just about to ask you the same question!” She smiles, “I could never get mine to stay up the way yours does!” 

Josuke grins at her, proud, “I use a sheer amount of determination and a shit tonne of hairspray, girl.”

“Ah, see, Mista, I knew it was hairspray,” she elbows the gunslinger beside her. “Mista here thought you got it professionally done somewhere...” 

“Gah! This means I’m just terrible at styling my hair.” He whines, “I have no excuse now.” 

“Hey! Don’t get yourself down, dude!” Josuke replies comfortingly. “That hat of yours is fly as fuck.” 

The one named ‘Mista’ sniffles, “ya think?!”

“Ya. I wish I could pull off something like that.”

“Nah, you’re style is way cooler, dude!”

“Nah, come on man-”  

Giovanna loudly clears his throat with a pretentious layer of annoyance. Jotaro wishes he could do the same. 

“Now that we’re all well acquainted with one another. Shall we get started?”

Oh. Right. The meeting.

“What have you gotten yourself into now, Giorno?” Polnareff sighs. It seemed like he was still miffed about being left out of the loop.

Which meant…

He probably didn’t know about Dio. 

 

Oh. Fuck.

 

---

 

“Green lipstick! Green lipstick!” Jolyne chants, her braids bouncing up and down in her excitement. They damn near looked sentient.

“Okay, okay, shh.” Rohan sighed, picking one of his favourite colours from the bag. The kid, at the very least, had great (albeit, expensive) taste. Just like him. “We have to be quiet, you know. Your father will kill me if they hear us out there.” 

There was still no sign of life on the other side of the door, and Rohan was beginning to actually worry. He knew it was stupid. Kujo Jotaro was a very capable (and very handsome,) man, after all... 

And Rohan most certainly didn’t give a shit about Josuke.   

“Why?”

“...Because your uncle and your father are having a very important meeting out there and can’t be disturbed,” Rohan repeats the half-truth that Jotaro had told his daughter before he’d left. It was better to stay consistent, after all. 

Jolyne pouts, her lips beginning to tremble, oh god, “dad always says that and then he doesn’t come back for ages! One time he even missed my birthday party!” 

Rohan frowns. Had he said something wrong? 

Jolyne looked genuinely upset now, which seemed strange to him, seeing as Jotaro had told her the exact same thing Rohan just had. She didn’t seem like the kind of child that would cry easily, either… Perhaps all of her pent up frustration had finally been let out of the bag…

She was a lot like her father that way- quite stoic for a small child until it all got to be too much... 

She laughed a lot more than Jotaro, though.

Rohan would like to know what Jotaro laughed like...

“He’ll come back,” Rohan reassured, still quite confused on how to deal with emotional children. It was a new field of learning experiences that he isn’t sure he’s a fan of. “Now come on, hold still. You want the green lipstick right?” He twirls the canister in his hand with delicate fingertips. 

Jolyne’s eyes are still a little bit watery, but she nods firmly nevertheless.

A tentative calm was restored. Rohan considered that a victory.

 

---

 

“Nope. No way. No.”

To Polnareff’s credit, he does hold off speaking until the very end of Giorno’s long-(golden)winded speech. It was interesting seeing the man’s expressions firsthand. It makes Jotaro wonder if that was what he had looked like when the subject had first been broached to him. He hoped not. 

Because Polnareff looked like an idiot.

...A living, breathing idiot.

God, Jotaro was still reeling from that. 

After all the search parties and scout missions… He’d been a fucking turtle this whole time.  

“I understand that you and Signor Kujo have a history with my father. But I can assure you with the utmost confidence that I will keep him under wraps and out of trouble.”

“Trouble?!” Polnareff exclaims, “Giorno, this bastard killed our friends- he murdered hundreds if not thousands of people- he destroyed the lives of so many… This is so far past ‘trouble,’ ”

Jotaro agreed, but couldn’t help but think about how much Polnareff seemed like a lecturing father at the moment- to Dio’s kid, nonetheless. 

It was a mad world.

“You seemed to have no trouble aiding me, as his son,” Giorno replies.

“That’s because you’re a good kid, Giorno!” 

“Oh? But I’ve killed people too... What makes me any different from him?” Giorno says this without a trace of guilt. It’s chilling to see from someone so young.

“Motive,” Jotaro replies coolly.

“It’s still murder,” Giorno replied back, fast as a whip. He seemed unwavering in his decision- just like the night previous. Jotaro expected nothing less from the kid- but it still irked him. “Besides, it’s already been agreed upon that you wouldn’t kill Dio without ample, current reason, and I expect you to adhere to that commitment.” 

“Jotaro! You agreed to that?!” Polnareff looks incredulous, his jaw is essentially on the floor. “After what he did to Avdol and Iggy- what he did to Kakyoin?!” 

Jotaro bites his lip. That was a low blow- mentioning their names. Polnareff knew it too. “Believe me when I say that I wanted to skin that bastard alive the moment I heard he was back.” 

Josuke beside him flinches from the intensity. He’d never really seen the side of Jotaro that had defeated Dio in Egypt. Even the man himself had thought it to be dead, but it was simply dormant.

Giorno remains unmoving, flickering his gaze toward Polnareff. It’s evident in the way that the kid spoke to him that he respected him. Jotaro finds their whole dichotomous relationship to be very fascinating to watch. “He is not the same ‘Dio’ you encountered on your journey fifteen years ago. Your friend can attest to that.” He tipped his head toward Jotaro, who nodded in reluctant affirmation, “it is highly likely that he will awaken and be much different from what you last saw of him…He could be of great use to all of us...” 

Turning fully now, his expression is imploring. 

“At the very least give me the benefit of the doubt. After all, this time under your guidance, have I ever disappointed you?” 

Polnareff looks like he wants to object, but instead, he just grits out a regretful, “...no.” 

Giorno smiles in reply. It’s admittedly a strange expression on him. It doesn’t seem entirely genuine- but it makes the hard edges of his face soften into something that seemed a lot more his age. “Thank you.”

 

And thus, the group were under a tentative agreement. One of which that Jotaro could hardly believe he’d consented to in the first place. The idea of simply leaving Dio un-murdered to live his life was absurd and entirely infuriating. 

...But until the bastard woke up- that would be how it was. 

Starting tomorrow, Josuke and Giorno would be using their combined Stand powers to attempt to force the fucker into consciousness. With their collective healing abilities, there is no doubt in Jotaro’s mind that whatever the fuck was keeping Dio under- wasn’t going to for much longer.

Ugh.

Everything about this pissed Jotaro the fuck off... 

...But Dio was like a fucking cockroach, impossible to kill- always coming back to haunt his ass. If he was just going to keep coming back- perhaps it was better he be kept in a proverbial trapper keeper. 

 

That’s what he keeps telling himself, anyway. It quells the fire of anger in his chest to a numbing simmer.

Notes:

josuke makes friends with everyone thats y hes so powerful,, his himbo energy is impossible to dislike

Chapter 9: famiglia

Summary:

It doesn’t matter. Not really. If shit really did hit the fan- there would always be a way to get through it. If he had to end up killing Dio again- it certainly wouldn’t be the end of the world. 

In fact, it would probably be the exact opposite given that asshole’s track record...  

Rohan’s unique stand ability was what stood out to Jotaro in the beginning. It was the whole reason the guy was in Italy in the first place, after all. Jotaro knew that he would be of use strategically, and, well, he didn’t hate the guy. That was enough for him to be considered a perfect candidate; a weird stand and a bearable personality.

...But after being in close proximity with him for a little over a day now…

Jotaro is beginning to think Rohan is just straight-up weird in general- powers regardless. 

Despite all of his ridiculous, attention-grabbing accessories- he was a strange, anti-social grouch that only gave a maximum of two shits per day. He seemed to have some kind of compassion but it was incomprehensible at best and hidden by a nasty mean streak at worst. There was an obvious chip on his shoulder from something but he seemed like the type to prefer death over discussing something as ‘trivial’ as childhood trauma.

...Now why did that feel familiar?

Jotaro stares at the door handle with a terse expression. The guy was, admittedly, not his first choice for babysitting Jolyne. Hell, Rohan probably wasn’t anyone’s first choice for babysitting- Josuke had told him about the rock-paper-scissors kid, after all... 

...But desperate times called for desperate measures- Josuke needed to work closely alongside Jotaro, and Rohan was the only (pseudo)adult around to make sure that his daughter didn’t accidentally become public enemy number one.

So he had to trust that he wouldn’t do anything too fucking weird.

Giovanna and his entourage, having received what they came for- bid the two Joestars a good afternoon, none the wiser about the pair right behind the other door. 

There’s a promise in the air between them all that they would meet again tomorrow night in order to continue their mutual investigation. Giovanna and Jotaro exchange numbers in case things go awry- but Jotaro senses that if something truly did go tits up Giovanna would neglect to inform him.

It doesn’t matter. Not really. If shit really did hit the fan- there would always be a way to get through it. If he had to end up killing Dio again- it certainly wouldn’t be the end of the world. 

In fact, it would probably be the exact opposite, given that asshole’s track record...  

The gang obviously take Polnareff back with them. But Jotaro almost wishes he’d stay just so he could talk to someone about how all this fucked up shit reminded him not-so-fondly of Egypt. He’d rather die than admit that though, so he just watches with a frown on his face as they close the door after them, godfather style. Of course.

“Well, that went okay,” Josuke says, optimistic as usual. “I can’t believe I got to meet the legendary Polnareff!” Grinning, he throws himself down on the couch. The cushions are quickly dwarfed by his large frame.“I can’t believe he was a fucking turtle.”

Jotaro makes a grumble of agreement. That makes the two of us.

He’s still staring at the doorknob.

He doesn’t know if he even wants to enter. 

Perhaps if he just kept denying things, they’d go away. That’s what he always did, after all.

It hadn’t worked so far- but there was a first for everything, right? 

He almost feels bad for having such little faith in Rohan- but the guy just didn’t seem like a ‘kid-friendly’ type of person. 

Not that Jotaro seemed like one either- but still. 

With a world-weary sigh, he turns the handle and expects the worst. 

At least he was consistent.

 

“Roro, it’s been ages, are you done yet?” Jolyne whines half-heartedly.

“Don’t call me that.” Rohan snaps, sighing to himself. It looks as if he was having a mental battle with his inner psyche.

He takes a breath and tries again.

“Besides, you can’t rush art, Jolyne. Rome was not built in a day.” 

“But we’re not in Rome- we’re in Naples!”

“Shut up, you’ll make me mess up your nails.” He takes a bit more polish from the small pot, placing the soft green colour onto her small fingers with near professional precision. He does it in one fell swoop and moves onto the next nail, delicately filing it into the desired shape.

Jolyne giggles, her bright smile lighting up the room. She draws her hand away from the small foam piece in Rohan’s grasps. “That tickles!” 

“What- you mean this? ” Rohan replies- repeating the action. 

The girl laughs louder, her grin stretching the sun-kissed freckles on her face.

Rohan smiles back at her. 

Jotaro doesn’t think he’s seen an expression like that on Rohan’s face before. It looked too genuine… He almost felt as if he was intruding on something...

This was definitely a surprise. 

 

Jolyne, as if at last noticing the opened door, looks up from her hands. “Dad!” She exclaims, surprised- it’s only then that Jotaro notices the perfectly applied green lipstick on her mouth. 

It was an interesting colour- not something he would have chosen personally but Jolyne had always loved green. There was glitter everywhere on her too, shimmering in the soft lighting of the room. Jotaro pitied the housekeepers.

Jolyne seemed to be having fun though. Even if she was much too young to be wearing makeup.

Rohan turns all the way around now too, meeting Jotaro’s eyes. “Ah, Jotaro-san.” He says, quite obviously trying to mask his relief. Jotaro isn’t sure if the emotion is brought on by the fact that he wouldn’t be on babysitting duty anymore- or if it was something a bit more serious. 

“Don’t we look pretty, dad?!” Jolyne exclaims, her two front teeth now smudged with green lipstick. 

Jotaro feels a rare smile touch his own face. It was nice that someone had had a good day today. “Yeah,” he replies, “why don’t you go show your uncle Josuke?”

“‘Kay!” Jolyne smiles, ambling out of the room. Her replacement is a mutual silence.

Jotaro glances about the room, noting a large number of cosmetic products strewn about the carpet and basin. He didn’t know a whole lot about makeup, but he knew that you weren’t supposed to chip away at eyeshadow pallets like that... 

He winces, “I’ll pay back whatever Jolyne destroyed.” 

“It’s okay,” Rohan says, quite honestly surprising himself. 

Now that he knew that everyone wasn’t dead- he’d anticipated being entirely pissed off about all of his makeup- but, well… The feeling never came. 

“I had... fun, actually. Jolyne has a great eye for colour.” 

Jotaro makes an affirmative grunt. “I’ll still pay you back.” 

He loathed owing people. Especially people he didn’t know all that well. 

Rohan can’t help a sinister grin from appearing on his face, he’d just gotten a fantastic idea. “How about dinner, then?” 

Hook, line and sinker- he couldn’t refuse! 

Rohan Kishibe was the whole package, after all- he’d just been waiting for the right time to mail himself to Jotaro. 

Jotaro looks like he’s considering the option for a moment. He was always quite hard to read. Rohan could rarely tell what he was thinking at the best of times. 

“Alright.” He says, in finality.

Rohan’s heart is beating in his chest. Fuck- it was finally happening. They were going on a date together! He didn’t know what to feel. It was so exciting! This dumb crush on Josuke’s nephew was finally coming to fruition!

“I’ll go tell Jolyne and Josuke to clean up and we’ll all head out in fifteen,” Jotaro informs him in that factual, no-nonsense way that he always spoke. He doesn't wait for a reply, he just closes the door on him while glancing at his dorky watch.

Wait.

Rohan just keeps staring at the closed door, blinking.

God fucking dammit.

 

---

 

Giorno, admittedly, wasn’t quite sure how he felt about his extended family. 

...Then again, he wasn’t sure how he felt about his family in general.  

It was a bit of a strange topic of discussion for him. Even before all of this ‘vampire’ business had been brought up… It was not something Giorno particularly liked to dwell on. 

His mother had never really wanted to be a mother- that was evidenced enough in her actions. She left him alone during the night to go out and fulfil her own desires, then she would return in the dying rays of late afternoon the next day- not a care in the world about her son’s well being. 

Even now Giorno would wake up from his slumber sometimes, feeling a chill in the air that was no longer there- his hands outstretched for a person that had never been there in the first place.

And yet... 

There were times when her eyes would soften for just a moment and she’d call him Haruno with a voice that felt like not her own. 

He hadn’t heard his Japanese name in so long. .. 

On particularly long days, she would come home with small candies from the store vendor for him to munch on. 

He still remembered the sweet taste of caramel on his parched tongue.

When she was feeling especially kind, she’d brush his hair with a gentle patience that made Giorno’s aching heart settle for just a split second. 

She’d taken that hairbrush with her when she’d left.

His mother had most assuredly not wanted this role in life- but she’d taken it upon herself to do it anyway. 

Giorno didn’t necessarily blame her for the callous way she acted- but that wasn’t to say he’d forgive and forget all that easily. 

She’d had options- and she’d still chosen to treat him the way she did. She could have given him away, terminated him- anything. But she’d chosen this. She’d chosen to neglect him in favour of her own selfish whims. She’d chosen to give him scraps of affection instead of the typical unconditional love so many other children had. She’d chosen to marry a man that beat her son. She’d chosen to look the other way any time things had gotten violent. She’d chosen to escape the life that she’d helped create, but not before constructing bonds that bound Giorno to her for life.

And for that, Giorno knows he can’t forgive her. 

Not ever. 

Hopeless pride ran in the family- and it seemed that Giorno had inherited it from both of his parents. 

In the darkened cab of the backseat of his car, Giorno wondered if he ever would actually see his mother again.

He wondered if he even wanted to.  

Now that he knew the origins of his ever-elusive father, alongside the happenstances of the cursed blood that flowed through his veins... Everything had been made far more confusing than once believed. 

Sad backstories were dime-a-dozen in his line of work, but supernatural ones?

…Not quite as common.

“Dhampir!” Mista shouts out of the blue, making Giorno, Trish- (and the driver in front,) jump from the abrasive sound of his voice. He’d always had a way of making people pay attention to him. Whether it be from his vulgarity, his frivolity- or just straight up because he was yelling everything all the time.

“Excuse me?” Giorno says, trying to play off his startled expression as one of incredulity. 

“If your dad was a vampire- and your mother was a human, that means you’re half-vampire, half-human… So you’re a dhampir!” 

“Oh shit… Like in Castlevania?” Trish says in reply, her eyes widening with interest. She turns to Giorno, “that means your name is actually Oid… Like backwards Dio- you know?”

Giorno stares at her, unamused. He already had like, two names, he didn’t need another.

Mista however, seems thankful that she was picking up what he was putting down. Nodding along, he nudges Giorno with his left elbow, “are you able to eat garlic bread?”

Giorno just stares at the two of them, “yes?” 

He lived in fucking Italy- he would have realised if he was some kind of vampire-hybrid the moment he ate literally anything here. 

Trish and Mista exchange a glance. The pair had a weird way of talking without actually saying anything. The years after usurping Passione had brought the two of them much closer as friends. It was good in some ways because some of Trish’s sensibilities had been rubbed off onto Mista- but it went both ways and Giorno sometimes feared for Trish’s brain cells.

Mista was a lot of things. Loyal, compassionate, charming… But he was definitely not book-smart. 

In fact, the only ‘book’ Giorno’s ever actually seen Mista read was a fucking Naruto volume.

“Are you immortal?”

“...How would I know that?” 

Mista not so subtlely reaches for Sex Pistols. 

“Please refrain from making an attempt on my life, Mista.” Giorno says calmly, he remains unblinking, “you’d probably end up shooting yourself, anyway.” 

Mista frowns, nodding along to Giorno’s comment as if he solemnly agreed with it. At least he was self-aware. 

The number of bullet holes he’d had to heal on Mista since he’d joined Passione was most assuredly in the hundreds by now… And the worst part of it all was that it was usually from Mista’s own gun.

“Fine… But you’re still a dhampir.” 

Giorno just looks at the pair of them and wonders idly how these two had become the people he trusted most in this world. 

“Whatever lets you sleep at night, amico. ”

 

Sure, blood was thicker than water- but Giorno (despite his vampiric heritage) would much prefer settling down with a nice glass of iced h2o than the former option. 

Mista and Trish weren’t technically his family- but they were the closest Giorno had gotten thus far. They understood him in a way that no one else really could. They didn’t think his quiet demeanour was off-putting- they didn’t exclude him from things because he was strange. They just loved him, unconditionally. And for that- he owed them so much more than just riches.

...Giorno would sooner die than admit that to them though. 

It seemed stubbornness also ran in the family.

 

Notes:

this is just a little add-on from the previous chapter that i didnt have time to edit before i posted the other one but yeah lmao jotaro really do be cockblocking himself huh

 

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Chapter 10: risveglio

Summary:

“Let’s begin.”

Giorno stares at his father, a slight slither of nervousness spreading unwillingly throughout his body. 

They truly had no idea whether this idea of theirs would truly work- nor did they know the repercussions of if it did...

It was safe to say that this would be the first time in history that two stand users utilised their regenerative abilities to attempt to re-awaken their vampire relative… 

...At least he hoped it was.

Out of the blue, Giorno feels a large hand clap down on his shoulder. It’s abrasive- but he can tell that the intentions were not malevolent. 

“Don’t sweat it, dude.” Josuke told him with a grin, “my dad’s super old too, so I kinda get what you’re feeling.” 

Giorno stares at him. “...Is your father a maniacal vampire?” 

Josuke almost looks disappointed as he shakes his head, “Nah… He is a Libra though.” His face screws up unpleasantly. 

Giorno found Josuke a lot more tolerable than Kujo. 

Perhaps it was because they were much closer in age- or perhaps it was because he reminded him so fondly of Mista that he was hard not to like without feeling hypocritical… 

Either way, the tensions certainly weren’t as high as they could have been.

And for that, Giorno was grateful.

“I… Thank you, Josuke.” 

“No probs!” He grinned, scratching the back of his neck. At this point, Josuke practically looked eager . “let’s get down to business shall we?”

Giorno sighs. 

He hadn’t had this much of a bizarre week since he took over Passione, and he honestly couldn’t say he’d missed it. The whole ‘your dad is a vampire,’ thing, alongside the, ‘you have a shit tonne of pseudo-relatives that are super powerful,’ was a bit much even for Giorno to cope with. 

His life was already weird enough without all the supernatural elements and the extra family members, thank you very much...

 

...Despite all this, however, Giorno was determined to get some answers. 

And he’d waited long enough.

He exchanges a final nod at Mista, who now cocks his pistol from behind him- before moving his gaze next to Kujo and Josuke, both staring at him in anticipation. 

 

“Let’s begin.”

 

---

 

The process had been a long series of trial and error. Working with any kind of stand user was always going to be tough- but Giorno had only just met Josuke. 

Their powers were similar- but together they had to learn the whims and draw-backs to one another’s abilities- and the outcome proved to be mildly exhausting.

Nevertheless… Their mission had eventually been fruitful.

Giorno had kind of expected Dio’s reawakening to be a tad more dramatic than it actually turned out to be. 

There was no ominous smoke- nor was there any threatening glow of red in his eyes. 

Just like any other person, Dio’s eyes flutter open with a subdued fervour- it’s so shockingly human that Giorno is entirely jarred by it. 

The all-consuming presence that Giorno had been confronted with a matter of days ago had been altered ever so slightly. That much was assuredly the fact. 

...He just couldn’t put his finger on what had changed.

Dio scowls, his lips curling unpleasantly into a facial expression that better befitted the image of him that Giorno had had in his head. “Why is it that you are all staring at I, Dio?” 

Giorno’s eyebrows nearly reach his hairline. 

He’d anticipated the disorientation- but he hadn’t anticipated the accent. 

Kujo had told him before that Dio had lived through the Victorian era in England… But when they’d spoken for a brief moment before he’d gone unconscious- there hadn’t been a hint of the appropriate accent in his tone at all. His voice was without a discernible dialect- only a pretentious lilt remained alongside the overall threatening essence of his speech.

The surprise evidenced in Kujo’s body language allows Giorno to assume that this manner of speaking was new to him as well.

“I’m looking for answers, and you’ve kept me waiting.” 

Dio seemed pleased by this reply. 

...But the curling frown at his lips never left his expression. 

Josuke and Giorno had healed him only enough to bring him into the realm of reality- not enough to completely allow him to take control if he so desired.

...And Giorno did not trust his father to do the sensible thing quite yet. 

“I, Dio, am not under the time constraints of anyone save for myself.” 

Dio’s speech didn’t quite hold the accent of a nobleman. It fell just short. His consonants were too harsh- they lacked the same kind of austere tone that Giorno had heard in period films. It was an assimilation of such- constructed after he’d learned to speak by himself. It was put-on. Fake.  

Giorno didn't think he was wrong in thinking that Dio’s true accent resembled that of the Victorian peasantry rather than the nobility. 

...Oh this was rather compelling.

Giorno hears Kujo unleash Star Platinum from behind him as a precaution. 

As soon as the stand emerges, Dio’s eyes instantly land on it. 

His expression sours even further. 

“What in the world are you doing here, Jojo? Are you here to take pity on the invalid?” Dio squints, his mouth curling into a sneer. “I do not want your sickeningly weak sentiments.” 

Oh, he was absolutely out of it. 

“Dio,” Giorno tries to call the man’s attention back to the matter at hand. “Do you know what year it is?” 

“Do not patronise I, Dio,” he scowls. He doesn’t, however, provide an answer.

He was totally out of it.

He was totally out of it and he didn’t want to admit it.

He was obviously still recovering from… whatever had put him under in the first place. Josuke and Giorno’s bout of energy had only done so much. It had returned his consciousness- but his mind was still all over the place- it was as if he was suffering a terrible fever. 

In a way, Giorno supposed, he probably was.

…It was kind of funny. Fucked up- but also funny. 

Giorno did not doubt that time would clear his clouded mind, but for now- Dio was completely useless- awake, but useless. 

Kujo raises an eyebrow at him, obviously thinking along the same wavelength as Giorno. “What country are we currently in?” 

Dio clicks his tongue. “You are an even bigger fool than I thought you to be if you do not know that.” 

Despite being utterly oblivious to his whereabouts and general situation- he still made sure to insult people.

It was almost a skill.

“...And who am I exactly, asshole?” 

Dio looks at him, “that is none of your business.” 

Kujo adjusts the hat on his head, his eye twitching, “he’s delusional. You may as well just knock him the fuck out again.” 

Giorno, however, ignores him. “Are you hungry at all? Thirsty? I can have someone bring you something.”

Dio does not reply. He lies, staring at something that remains invisible to the other.

“...Giorno.” He says, and Giorno is honestly surprised he can recall his name in such a state. So much so, that he almost forgets to answer.

“...Yes?”

Giorno had only ever seen Dio sneering or smirking- but for just a split second- his expression softens ever so slightly. 

“You look a lot like him.” 

It’s the last thing he says before drifting off to sleep again. It’s far more shallow than the near-coma he’d been in… But Giorno knew it would at least be another day or so before he was able to speak to his father again...

Dio’s Stand was able to control time- and yet he was always keeping him waiting. 

Notes:

DIO DIDNT SOUND BRITISH ENOUGH IN THE PART 3 DUB SO IM NOW ASSUMING THAT HE SPENT THE 100 YEARS IN HIS COFFIN PRACTICING ACCENTS

also star platinum being jonathans soul passed down to protect his lineage from evil is the SEXIEST jojo headcanon and them the fax

oh and the idea of dio having no fucking idea whats going on but still pretending he does is just me projecting ngl

Chapter 11: rossetta

Summary:

Giorno doesn’t think his father was the type to sugarcoat his words. If anything, he dipped them in poison before he spat them back out.

The following time in which Dio reawakens- Giorno is the only one in the room. 

It was rather late at night- a day or so after their previous talk and nearly everyone else (including Josuke,) was asleep aside from Giorno and a few henchmen on the other side of the mansion. 

Giorno suspects he may have recently inherited a touch of his father’s nocturnal nature, for he couldn’t seem to get to sleep early to save his life...  

Unsurprisingly, Kujo was reluctant, to say the least about leaving Dio here with him once more- but even he couldn’t stay in Giorno’s company forever… 

Well, he could, actually. Passione’s headquarters was fucking massive- but Giorno suspects it’s something far more… psychological than that. 

The man seemed incapable of staying in the same room as Dio for more than five minutes. Remaining indefinitely in the same building would be near unbearable for him.

...And from the little tidbits that Kujo had actually told Giorno about the battle with his father in Egypt… He didn’t necessarily blame him. 

Giorno certainly wouldn’t be able to stay in the same room as Diavolo for very long, after all. 

...But, perhaps, that was a bit of a different situation. 

At least, he kind of hoped it would be. Especially the direct next-of-kin murderous intent part. That wouldn’t work out very well for Giorno... Or Dio, for that matter.

All these aspects, regardless, Giorno is the sole person present as Dio wakes up, and he isn’t even the least bit concerned about it. He highly suspects that the vampire will need a few more days at least of recuperating to even begin to be a possible threat to him and his men. 

...And Giorno is fairly certain that Dio knows that.

The vampire stares at him- his mouth twitching into an immediate scowl. His bitchiness knew no bounds- so much so that it was unconscious. Already, Giorno could tell that he seemed a little less out of it than beforehand. He seemed more aware of everything- more pissed off. More ‘Dio,’ but still… There was an aspect of vulnerability left there- weakness, even, that he was attempting to cover up. Peculiar.

“Good evening,” Giorno says pleasantly, sitting upon one of the armoires near the bed that he’d had Mista bring in for him. He’d finally gotten back to the book that he’d just begun reading when all of this chaos had begun.

“That insolent cur Jotaro was here.” Dio narrows his eyes, obviously not one for pleasantries. He doesn’t word it like a question at all.  

To Giorno’s surprise, he still retained his accent. 

“Yes. He was.” He offers no explanation. 

“...And why is that?” 

“You are not in a position to be asking questions. You assured me of many things when I agreed to shelter you. I hope you don’t intend to break our arrangement.” 

He’d get answers when Giorno himself got some and not a second before. 

Dio remains largely unreadable. as per usual. “You are not afraid of me.” He observes, looking at Giorno with his piercing eyes. 

“No,” Giorno replied truthfully, still seated in his chair. “...You wouldn’t hurt me.”

Dio raises a (somehow?) perfectly manicured brow.“...And what is it that makes you believe such a thing?” 

‘Well for starters, Josuke and I made sure you could barely stand up, let alone commit an act of violence on someone…’

Giorno clears his throat.

“I remind you too much of a past that you’d rather be in.” 

Dio sneers at him but offers no reply. Jackpot.

“Which leads me to believe that you hadn’t intended to be resurrected,” Giorno states, stepping about the room- his hands behind his back. “Not in this form, at least. Not now.” 

Dio continues to watch him like the sly creature he truly was. Right at this moment, he was an injured beast- yet he still exuded an enormous air of superiority. 

Giorno really didn’t want to think about what was going to happen when he regained his health- when he couldn’t handle him as easily anymore... 

When he couldn’t wholeheartedly justify his capability of keeping him here. 

“...I’m going to take your silence as a yes.” 

“Do what you want.” Dio spat, it looked like he was putting his all into making the statement as venomous as possible. Giorno is sure that the ominous aura surrounding him would have made anyone else cower in fear. 

But Giorno was not afraid of Dio. Not really. He wasn’t now and he wouldn’t be. Ever. No matter what he did.  “Oh, I intend to.” He replies, without a hint of hesitation.

That is the first thing he says that makes Dio look surprised. He cocks an eyebrow at the other- almost impressed. 

...Giorno thinks perhaps that’s why he continually grows more lenient with his truths. Perhaps it was some kind of ancient sentimentality he still held. Some unconscious bond of blood between the two of them... 

Either way, he begins to speak. 

“I, Dio awoke in England, wherein which my old body had inevitably been buried. I sensed the closest connection to you here and knew that my power had yet to fully return… Thus, I used my own insurmountable strength to make my way to your location.” He offers no means of transportation. Giorno doesn’t even want to think too deeply about it.  

“Do you know who could have awakened you?”

“Obviously,” Dio admits. He does not answer further.

Giorno’s mouth settles into a frown. 

Baby steps, he supposed. 

Besides, Giorno wasn’t all that worried about how  Dio had gotten here in the first place, honestly. He was just doing so to get Kujo off his back for a while... 

The questions that he desperately wanted to be answered were far more… selfish in nature. 

Naturally, Giorno wanted to know more about his origin. It was common sense after being in the dark for so long, after all. His mother had told him nearly nothing about her own family- it was a pipe dream at the very least to assume she knew anything about Dio before he’d left.

“...Did you know about me before you died?” Giorno asks, oddly quiet. He isn’t sure if he actually wants the answer. He knows he wants closure- but he also knows that he might not like what he was going to hear. 

Giorno doesn’t think his father was the type to sugarcoat his words. If anything, he dipped them in poison before he spat them back out.

“Not entirely.” Dio admitted lazily, “I, Dio purposefully acted promiscuously in order to ensure a continuation of my own bloodline... Although I was never entirely certain before I perished.” 

“...I thought you hated the Joestar bloodline?”

Dio almost looks offended, “I, Dio, absolutely do.”

“Then why did you use Jonathan Joestar’s body to have kids?” 

Dio looks taken aback now as if he had never even considered the notion beforehand. “I had just presumed that my own, superior blood would prevail against the weakness of the Joestar family line.”

Giorno squints at him. That Victorian-era based scientific knowledge was really shining through here. 

He almost wants to ask him if he thinks the world is flat.

“...That’s not how that’s supposed to work… Like, at all.”

“Hoh? And how is it that you are so sure?” 

“Because the internet exists and science has evolved in the past hundred or so years…” He replied hotly. “...and don’t pretend you know what the internet is. I know you don’t.” 

Dio furrows his brows. “You are rather incorrigible, boy. Did your mother not teach you simple manners?”  

Dio was getting on his nerves with his vague answers and haughty attitude. 

It was like talking to an even more pompous version of himself.

Giorno presses his fingers down on the oak bed frame, his knuckles beginning to turn white, “no, she didn’t, actually... Her husband graciously tried to beat them into me though.” He says it all rather calmly, unblinking and unwavering.

A silence passes through the room. 

“...Your step-father was unkind to you?” 

“No, not really,” Giorno said sarcastically. He was prone to being hot-headed every so often- but he hadn’t felt this mad in quite a while. “I mostly grew up on the streets because it was better than going back home.” 

“...Your mother?” 

“She never wanted to be a mother in the first place.” All of a sudden Giorno was a hormonal pre-teen again, angry at the quality of life that had been handed to him. He was venting all of his age-old frustration to this… this stranger as if he even knew or cared. “But you needed some kind of heir- so it’s fine. You could just leave and not even bother with the consequences.” 

Giorno hadn’t known how much he’d truly been bottling in for all this time. 

It was all coming out at once like some kind of cathartic waterfall. 

Strangely enough, though, Dio doesn’t try to interrupt him. Instead, he waits until he is finished before opening his mouth again. 

“...If I, Dio had been fully aware of your existence- I would have eliminated those scum and allowed you to truly prosper...” He says it all rather quietly, just verging on the edge of actual, human emotion.

Oh.

Giorno looks at him then. 

It’s a bit of a strange sentiment, but Giorno thinks Dio actually means what he’d said. 

No matter how fucked up it was.

It was a start.

“You would have been a worthy successor.” 

...And back to his vampiric nonsense again.  

“Do you think about anything besides world domination?”

At this point, Giorno doesn’t know what he wants to do with the situation at hand. He knows that he doesn’t want Kujo to take Dio away from him- but at this point, he’s nearly about to kill the man himself. 

He’s so incredibly difficult to get a straight answer out of that he may as well be talking in riddles.

Dio pauses, contemplating the question for a moment. Then, in what may be the most genuine way he’s spoken this entire time answers, “I, Dio, am quite fond of lipstick.” 

 

Notes:

any vampire born after 1866 can’t be normal... all they know is world domination, lipstick, be bisexual, eat hot chip & lie

 

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Chapter 12: progetto

Summary:

“You’re suggesting Kujo might have a specific stand user that could help us out?” Giorno humours the concept aloud. It felt nice to voice his reservations without feeling insane, “...wouldn’t that be an invasion of Dio’s privacy?” 
The gunslinger shrugs, his eyes returning to the window. “You know what else is an invasion of privacy? Crashing through someone’s fucking window.” 

“That man has such a skewed sense of his own being that it’s so far beyond pretentious. He doesn’t answer anything without being purposefully vague... And he keeps referring to himself in the third person. ”

“You mean he’s... like you?”

Giorno found himself in the courtyard, on the verge of calling up Kujo in the dead of night to pick his brain for ideas…

That was when he’d uncovered Mista on unappointed watch down here. He’d had his eyes fixed to the window where Dio (and originally Giorno too,) had been residing for the time being. He was far more focused than he had ever seen him before. 

It’s to such a degree that he nearly has a heart attack when Giorno approaches him from the side. 

Mista was always a good person to speak to. He didn’t tend to have a slither of rational advice, but he was a surprisingly apt listener if he cared enough. 

“I can’t believe you’d compare me to him.” Giorno sighs, “...I’m not that bad, am I?” He looks up into the night, watching the stars return his stare as if they were mocking him.
Mista laughs, “of course you’re not. Those little quirks of yours make you interesting! That guy just takes it too far...” 

The gunslinger seems far less focused on the window now that Giorno is down here beside him. 

Oh.

The thought makes Giorno’s heart flutter in such a way that he idly wonders if he’d accidentally turned his internal organs into a batch of butterflies by mistake. 

“I do see the similarities though… They’re not just skin deep, that’s for sure.” 

Giorno clicks his tongue, displeased with the answer that he knew to be the truth. “... I feel like I need to get into his head somehow. I just wish I could get some straight answers without having to go through a maze of ‘perhaps’ and ‘most likely’ ... It’s so tedious. Mista, please tell me the next time I’m acting like that- I truly never realised how irritating it can be.” 

Mista just huffs out a laugh, “As long as you don’t shoot the messenger, Boss.”

“Oh, you do a fine job getting yourself shot, I wouldn’t need to.” 

Mista winces, “hey, not cool.” 

“Forgive me, Mista. I’m at a loss on what to do. My listlessness makes me mean.”

Mista tilts his head, knowing full well that Giorno’s teasings could not be attributed to just that. Not that he’d ever admit it.

“...Maybe that Kujo guy has some ideas?” He suggests, unaware that the same concept had been spinning around Giorno’s mind for the past hour.

Great minds think alike. Well, sometimes they did. 

“You’re suggesting Kujo might have a specific stand user that could help us out?” Giorno humours the concept aloud. It felt nice to voice his reservations without feeling insane, “...wouldn’t that be an invasion of Dio’s privacy?” 

The idea of using supernatural powers to find out information on Dio was certainly tempting... but he knew that Mista would tell him if it was inherently fucked up to do such a thing. 

Not that his morality was any purer than Giorno’s… 

Perhaps Giorno just cared far more for Mista’s opinions than he really ought to.

The gunslinger shrugs, his eyes returning to the window. “You know what else is an invasion of privacy? Crashing through someone’s fucking window.” 

Giorno feels validated now.

“...Hmm, point taken.” 

Mista stretches his arms, holding back a yawn. He opts not to say any more on the matter of dubious data collecting. “I think you ought to trust that Kujo guy a little bit more... I might be biased because I think Josuke is fucking rad, but Kujo’s not all that bad either. Polnareff seems to think he’s a real upstanding dude… Not to mention,” he tilts his head to the side, “he’s your family as well as Dio.” 

“A technicality.” 

“I don’t think you can play ‘technicality’ when there’s a body-swapping vampire involved.” 

Goddammit. Mista was too astute for his own good sometimes. The sobering chill of the nighttime breeze had made him wise.

It isn’t the first time that Giorno looks at him and wonders what he did to deserve him- but it is the most ardent.

 

---

 

“Right, right, Giorno’s having a hard time getting some answers,” Josuke says, sympathetically frowning as he speaks, his ear to his new super-fucking-cool flip phone. 

As a precaution, Jotaro had had him stay here overnight, and he certainly wasn’t going to be complaining about it. 

So far it has been an adventure in utmost luxury. Giorno’s place was filled to the brim with cool shit to look at- it was like a museum but sexier and Josuke really fucked with that vibe.  

He hadn’t seen Giorno since this morning. Mista told him that he’d been staying around Dio’s quarters waiting for him to awaken once again. Josuke couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. He so badly wanted to learn more about himself, but he had to get the information from the biggest douche canoe in all of Victorian England.

“Yes,” Jotaro says in reply, his voice just as gruff via telecommunication. Josuke wasn’t listening to him anyway.

“It just sucks, you know? Giorno doesn’t know jack about his family… I can remember feeling that way too and it sucked balls. At least I had my mom and my grandpa- he doesn’t have anyone …” He scratches the back of his neck, “I wish there was a way we could get Dio to talk for him.” 

Josuke looks out the window of his room now, spying a figure out in the courtyard that he presumes to be Mista. 

To confirm, he gives him a one-handed finger gun which the man quickly spots and returns with vigour. 

God that guy was fucking rad.

In the background of the other line, he hears Rohan yell from behind Jotaro. He’d obviously been listening in on their conversation. “Ah yes, how I wish one of us had the power to access completely factual information on him…” 

The sarcasm is lost on Josuke. He just voices his agreement. “Yeah…”

Jotaro sighs long and hard on the other line. “...The three of us will be over in the morning.” 

Josuke’s eyebrows nearly reach his hairline in surprise. “Huh? The three of you? Why doesn’t Rohan just stay back with Jolyne? He’s shit at fighting anyway.”

Josuke didn’t think there was anything to be afraid of here. Jolyne would be perfectly safe, but he just knew how wary Jotaro was about it all. 

He really loved his daughter. It was kind of heartwarming.

“I can use Heaven’s Door on Dio, you fucking sentient doorknob,” Rohan replied just as Jotaro seemingly takes a breath to speak once more... 

“...Oh,” Josuke laughs, the realisation flooding into him. “Heh, forgot about that…” 

Jotaro mutters a disappointed yare yare, before continuing to speak, “he’s going to need to completely focus so we can’t leave Jolyne with a ‘babysitter’ like last time. It’s all hands on deck so we’re bringing her with us.” 

“Cool with me.” Josuke replies, “I can show her the swanky ass pool Giorno’s got.”

“Mhm.”   

“See you tomorrow then.”

“Mhm.” 

Kujo Jotaro was a man of very few words and even fewer grunts. Josuke knew better than to take it personally.

 

---

 

“Jolyne will be fine, you know.” 

Rohan had never truly been great at verbal assurance. He just wasn’t fantastic with more vulnerable emotions, he supposed. 

But still… He really did want to make an effort.

-Because despite his insistence on considering his infatuation with Jotaro as something purely lustful- he had to begrudgingly admit that he did care for him and his rambunctious little daughter on a personal level.

It was… unfortunate to say the least.

A fucking disaster to say the most. 

These two emotionally stunted tsundere fucks would be the most destructive couple imaginable but god did Rohan want to give it a try.   

“She’ll have to be. Marina still isn’t returning my calls.” Jotaro says gruffly, he looks down at his phone like it was the sole conspirator in this pickle of a situation they were in. “I can’t risk leaving her here alone, it’s better if I can keep an eye on her.”

“Are you worried she’d run away?”
“No, I’m worried she’d wreak havoc on all of coastal Italy.” 

With perfect timing from the other room, the two of them here a loud thump noise followed by Jolyne’s raucous laughter. 

“Watch out Dio.” Rohan jests, unable to help himself.

He swears he sees a ghost of a smile on Jotaro’s face in return. 

 

Notes:

whoever thot of joots wifes name being marina has the biggest galaxy brain in the world but idk who did it first so let me know if anyone knows bc ill totally credit that shit

 

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Chapter 13: piccola

Summary:

“So you moved on from that Kakyoin boy, did you?” Is all he says, looking far too amused for Giorno to assume that his comment was of a friendly nature. Everything about it screamed ‘malicious.’

And sure enough, the entire room goes cold. It’s like Kujo and Dio are the only two people left in here and everyone else was just an extra.

Kujo returns at the crack of dawn with two previously unseen extras in his party. 

Giorno is entirely unsure whether or not they had been here from the beginning, hidden away from their sights- or if they had gathered here after apt trust had been garnered… 

Not that it mattered though, for they were most assuredly here now .  

-And they were certainly unexpected.

“This is my daughter Jolyne,” Kujo introduces her like he does everything in life, begrudgingly. Giorno was honestly surprised to find that the man had a daughter. He certainly couldn’t imagine Kujo wooing any kind of woman, that was for sure.

...Or any kind of man, for that matter.

Jolyne Kujo, however, does not have the same temperament as her father. Her eyes light up as soon as she sees Giorno. “Your hair!” She squeals, “It’s so pretty! Like a princess!” She rushes at the Passione Don without a care in the world, trying to get every angle of his updo. She ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ at each intricate braid to the point that the typically prideful Giorno Giovanna was beginning to grow flustered over all the positive attention.

Mista, who was no help at all, stifles a laugh from beside him. 

Giorno doesn’t find it quite as funny. He didn’t have a particular fondness for children. They tended to be the cruellest creatures of them all at times… 

But he had to admit that Jolyne certainly didn’t seem to be the type. 

Besides, Kujo was definitely doing him a solid here. He most likely didn’t want to bring his daughter here in fear of endangering her- but he trusted Giorno enough now to know that he, unlike his father- wouldn’t do anything to intentionally harm the Joestar lineage. 

...And though that was comforting- Giorno knew that he wasn’t the one they had to worry about. 

He gracefully crouches down to Jolyne’s height so that she could touch his carefully (and painstakingly) constructed hairdo. She’s surprisingly gentle as she pokes at the rolls in the front of his head. So much so that it makes a smile unconsciously appear on Giorno’s face. 

Once she’s finally finished investigating, Giorno meets her eyes. 

“Remind me later and I’ll do your hair like mine too, piccola .”

Jolyne giggled at him, it makes the freckles on her cheeks more prominent, “you talk funny.” 

“Do I?” Giorno asked, mildly amused. Perhaps his linguistics were getting a little rusty...

He decided he quite liked Jolyne. 

“Holy fucking shit, that’s Kishibe Rohan.” 

Mista, however, was a little too distracted to properly enjoy their little moment.

“Mista , language.” Giorno hissed, gesturing to Jolyne.

“Shit, sorry.” 

Giorno sighs. 

“It’s just…” Mista’s eyes widen. He’s still far too distracted to see his mistake. “Narancia used to read his stuff all the time…” 

Giorno turns his head to the guy that Mista was looking toward. Giorno had been distracted by the startlingly bright-pink-clothed child whizzing about that he hadn’t remembered him until now. He stands next to Kujo- who nearly dwarfs him entirely. 

Finally, someone that wasn’t built like a giant. 

He wasn’t related to him, but still.

“This Narancia person… Are they a mafia friend of yours?” Kishibe tilts his head toward Mista in question before looking about the large quarters. He seemed like the type to quite like the attention his fame garnered. 

“Uh, yeah…” Mista scratches the back of his neck. “He… isn’t around anymore, though.”

An awkward silence passes between the group.

“Hoo! This shit’s awkward. ” Josuke descends the stairwell, obviously not having much context as to what was going on. He looks freshly showered and pompadoured- having obviously taken advantage of the fantastic water pressure within the mansion. “Did Rohan start telling you guys about his collection of bugs to snack on or something?” 

Giorno stares at Josuke, and then back at Kishibe. Whom of which looks like he wants to pummel the other man into a grainy paste.

He decides to diffuse the situation. 

“Giorno Giovanna, pleased to make your acquaintance.” He holds out a hand for Kishibe to shake.

Kishibe relinquishes his glare and takes the hand gracefully, much more accustomed to the gesture than Kujo and Josuke. 

A world-renowned mangaka… It was only natural, Giorno supposed.

“I presume you’re the one that can assist me in gathering some useful information about my father?” 

“Indeed I am,” Kishibe replies, haughty- Giorno wanted to liken him to a peacock but thought that was far too tame. 

Kishibe Rohan did have a fantastic eye for accessories, he had to admit. 

The man continues to speak. “I look forward to the process... I have heard many intriguing things about your father.”

“...Holy shit, Rohan has a thing for dilfs.” Josuke stage whispers to no one in particular. If Giorno was going to guess what audience he was reserving that comment for, it would have to be Mista and Mista alone.

“What’s a ‘dilf’?” Jolyne asks, confused. 

“It is a type of pickled cucumber.” Jotaro answers. He’s so sure of himself that he doesn’t see the look of abject horror on Kishibe’s face.

“Let’s get started shall we?!” He says the sentence a little too loudly, clapping his hands together so hard that Giorno thinks he might have broken a few of the rings adorning his fingers. 

“Let’s.” Giorno agreed, readier than ever to get the hell out of whatever this situation was.

 

---

 

Dio was awake when they entered the room. 

Giorno had, of course, been monitoring him throughout this entire time- but it still was a little bit of a shock to see him with his eyes open after all this time. 

It would also make their task a shit tonne more difficult. 

“Good morning, Dio, did you sleep well?” Giorno walks into the room with all the subtle nonchalance in the world. He wasn’t nervous persee- perhaps just a touch wary of all the possible repercussions…

Kujo, Kishibe and Josuke all enter the room after him- quite obviously not as calm and collected as he was. 

Young Jolyne had been left in the care of Trish and Mista, whom of which had both been instantly enamoured by her the second she’d started gushing about how delicious the pizza was here. Giorno could already tell that the kid had a bias toward Trish, though- as she’d put it, her hair ‘looked like cotton candy,’ so she was a shoo-in favourite. 

Giorno found it too amusing to be jealous. 

“Jotaro.” Is all Dio says, his mouth was always permanently scowled- but he somehow managed to deepen the expression tenfold when he saw the man enter. He obviously didn’t have the good grace to understand that, despite being mostly coherent now- he still wasn’t powerful enough to start picking fights with formidable enemies.

Either that or he had a death wish.

-Giorno didn’t think that was the case, though. Considering he’d died like, three times now and was still coming back for more.

“You look old,” Dio says, sizing the man up.

“And you look pathetic,” Kujo bites back, “if it wasn’t for your son over there I’d be beating your ass back into the ground.” The man speaks as if he’s holding back every instinct in his body that was telling him to move. 

Giorno could respect his willpower, but Kujo looked constipated at the best of times and this certainly wasn’t helping his case. 

Dio narrows his eyes at him. “Don’t refrain from trying on his account,” he challenges- far too confident for someone that was completely bedridden. 

Outside there’s the distant sound of rumbling footsteps and shouts. Giorno picks up the sounds of Trish and Mista’s alarmed voices right before the door slams open. 

Jolyne stands in the door frame, panting from running up all the stairs in the mansion.

She must have snuck away from Mista and Trish at some point and come to look for them.

“Dad, they’ve got an aquarium downstairs!” She exclaims to Kujo, wholly unaware of the sheer tension in the room. 

Oh shit...

Dio regards the small child coolly. Strangely enough, his ominous aura seemed to have no effect on her. Like father like daughter, Giorno supposed. 

“So you moved on from that Kakyoin boy, did you?” Is all he says, looking far too amused for Giorno to assume that his comment was of a friendly nature. Everything about it screamed ‘malicious.’  

And sure enough, the entire room goes cold. It’s like Kujo and Dio are the only two people left in here and everyone else was just an extra.

-Like lightning, Kujo unleashes Star Platinum faster than Giorno could possibly react and decks Dio so hard Giorno swears he sees two of him. 

He’s knocked out in one swift blow and Kujo does not make a move to continue the fight. 

He was a man of his word. 

Well… Sort of.

“It’s easier to read if he’s knocked out.” Is all he says before taking Jolyne by the hand, turning on his heel and exiting out the door. 

Giorno has no doubts that he would be back eventually, but for now, the show would have to go on. 

He couldn’t help but be curious about what all that was about, though.

Notes:

dio fucking dies part 4

Chapter 14: riposo

Summary:

Rohan looks over the pages again to make sure he’s reading that correctly. “This bitch is unhinged.” 

“That doesn’t mean a lot coming from you.” Josuke replies- unable to withhold his grimace nevertheless. 

Pinky and Mr Croptop heed Jotaro’s request, (demand) to go see Polnareff without any complaint in the slightest. Perhaps it’s due to the fact that he was outrightly glaring at them for losing track of his daughter so quickly- or perhaps it’s something else entirely... Nevertheless, the semi-familiar turtle shell appears before his eyes without any withholding- and for that, he is grateful. Jotaro really didn’t want to have to knock anyone else out today. 

...Though, he certainly won’t be risking leaving Jolyne with those two again anytime soon. No matter how hospitable they suddenly seemed to be... 

Jotaro grits his teeth. Fuck. Even after all this time, Dio still got under his skin. He clawed at his insides and made him relive everything terrible about the crusade he’d undertaken to save his mother.  

Every time he looked at the bastard’s face he saw Polnareff’s mournful expression, telling him that Avdol and Iggy hadn’t made it... He saw Kakyoin buried into the rubble of the tower, unyieldingly still, wholeheartedly pale- with blood falling in deep, red rivulets that resembled the unusual curl of his hair. 

-He sees what could have been had he been just that bit faster in figuring everything out...

...Punching the fucker’s lights out had felt good, but he couldn’t dispute the fact that he still wanted to do far more than that. 

Dio deserved far more than that- 

-What he didn’t deserve, though- was a fucking second chance.

And the sole person alive that knew that as much as Jotaro did, was Polnareff.  

“Jotaro?” Polnareff’s surprised voice breaks him out of the daze he was in. He had been on autopilot- it seemed, entering the concealed space without having even noticed he’d moved. 

He was still holding on to Jolyne’s hand. 

“Mhm.” Is all he murmurs, his head in an angered spin. 

Taking a deep breath to cool off, he absentmindedly notes the way that Jolyne inquisitively stares at the other man opposite them. 

Ah, right… 

They’d only met a handful of times when Jolyne was very young. He doubted she’d even remember…

Her face lights up like a Christmas tree. 

“UNCLE POL POL!?” 

Oh, he was wrong yet again. 

This day was just chock-full of surprises. 

At least this one wasn’t as shitty.

Jotaro sees it, it’s like a switch flips in her brain- all of a sudden she’s igniting that rambunctious side of herself again. 

He shouldn’t be shocked over her burst of enthusiasm. It rarely stayed dormant for long, after all... Hence the reason they were in this situation in the first place. 

“Jojo!” 

Jolyne, unknowing (or uncaring,) of Polnareff’s wheelchair-ed situation- dives nearly headfirst into the other’s arms without any kind of reservation. Jotaro wants to tell her to be careful but- just like him and his own mother- Jolyne wouldn’t heed his advice in the slightest. 

Thankfully, Polnareff just laughs at her excitement- hugging her tightly. Jotaro is taken back in time by the sound. He hadn’t heard such a grating noise in years. 

He was loathe to admit that he had missed it.

“I thought you were working on Dio?” Polnareff says with casual distaste. Jolyne was climbing around in his lap now, using him as a jungle gym. 

Hmm, perhaps Jotaro shouldn’t have let her have froot loops for breakfast this morning... 

“I was… interrupted.” He gestures rather plainly to his daughter, whom of which was now egging Polnareff on to do a wheelie in the background of their conversation.

“Might be for the best, anyway...” Polnareff shrugs, giving into Jolyne’s antics and tossing her about in his chair. Jolyne giggles, whooping with glee- unaware of the conversation at hand. 

Polnareff seemed oddly composed right now- relaxed, even. He had definitely cooled off since Giovanna had first told him about the happenings of late. He seemed far more content than Jotaro had this entire time in Italy. He laughs with Jolyne, who looks like she’s having the time of her life...

Jotaro finds it jarring. 

Hadn’t he been the one insisting they kill Dio when they’d last met?

“How can you be so calm about this…?” 

And just like that, Polnareff’s mouth flattens into a thin line. 

Jotaro almost feels guilty. 

Jolyne, however, remains ignorant of it all. 

“I’m tired, Jotaro- aren’t you?” He looked about the room he was in- far too sobering for Jotaro to feel nostalgic anymore. He’d changed. They both had. Jotaro needed to get out of the past. “There will always be another Dio, always another evil son-of-a-bitch that wants world domination… But it’s time I leave it up to someone else’s judgement. I’ll stay on the sidelines- I’ll be their referee, but I’m not a player anymore.” He gestures to himself, “I haven’t been for a long time, so-” He turns back to Jotaro, his expression is so complexly sad that it feels anachronistic to Polnareff’s entire face. “I’m going to leave the freaking out to someone else now.”

Jotaro’s frown deepens, “I can’t do that. I can’t quit and leave it to someone else.” His eyes fix onto Jolyne, his hand feels empty now. There’s another forgotten sentence attached to those words… ‘even if I want to.’  

“I’m not saying you have to go cold turkey, I’m just saying-” Polnareff sighs, “don’t go looking for trouble anymore, wait until it comes to you.” 

Jotaro scowls at the other’s lack of awareness. That was far easier said than done. 

The Joestar bloodline was like a beacon for weirdos.

“You realise you’re saying this inside of the most prominent mafia stronghold in all of Italy- nay, Europe, right?” 

Polnareff just stares at him. “I’m a fucking paraplegic turtle, Jotaro, I don’t have a lot of options and I can’t move very fast.” 

Jotaro doesn’t buy the excuse for a second. 

“Giovanna needs you.” He observed. “He likes having you here for guidance.” 

Polnareff looks resigned, caught in his own lie. “As I said... You don’t have to go cold turkey… You just have to…” He looks toward Jolyne now, then back at Jotaro, “take a backseat, you know?”  

Jotaro isn’t sure if he does know. “Yeah.” 

“Giorno’s a good kid. He’s a little shit, but he’s a good kid. He’s more than willing to take this over- and, in all honesty, he could probably kick both of our old asses.”

Now that was something Jotaro was sure about.

Not that he’d ever admit it. Ever.  

 

---

 

Rohan choked out a decidedly ugly laugh, looking upon Dio’s pages with great intrigue. “His early history is written in Victorian cursive but it changes when he awakens in the ’80s.” He observed, squinting at the plethora of words before him. “How fascinating...”

“We don’t want to hear about font choices, Rohan,” Josuke replies, quite obviously looking for something far juicier than great sweeping y’s and flamboyant h’s. 

…To be fair, Rohan was as well- but he couldn’t have himself agreeing with Josuke of all people. 

Giorno clears his throat from beside them, attempting to hide his eagerness. “If you could continue, Signor Kishibe… Don’t leave anything out.” 

Rohan rolls his eyes. So impatient. The both of them. He wonders which family member they’d inherited it from...

With established ease, he eyes what looks to be the beginning- his manicured fingers grace lightly over the page.

He begins to speak. 

"Dio Brando, born to Dario Brando, age 35, and Maria Brando, age 20, 1862, London. Earliest memory is his third birthday... His mother snuck a few coins out of his father's beer money and took him into town. She bought him a butterscotch toffee and the two of them watched the ducks in the park as the sun went down.” He continues to read, amusement spreading across his face. “Ha! His mother nicknamed him 'Angel,' now that's a bit on the nose..." 

“Mhm.” 

He takes that as a cue to continue reading.

When he turns the page, Rohan's expression darkens as his eyes move faster than his mouth does, "his father was waiting for them when they got home. He'd somehow found out about the money..." Rohan frowns. "He beat the two of them half to death before he passed out from all the alcohol... Fucking christ." 

Giorno’s mouth twitches. 

"At age 11, his mother died from overworking." There are lengths and lengths of text about Maria Brando here- despite her short cameo in her son’s life. "It is the event directly after her death that spurs Dio to kill his father…" 

"...And that was?" Giorno asks, much too interested to maintain the cool facade he once had. He looked desperate- sounded desperate… But that was because he was. He’d finally reached a point that he could receive genuine answers. 

He wouldn’t squander this opportunity. 

Rohan scans the page, "she had two sets of clothes. One dress that she'd worn to rags- and the other that was hidden under a floorboard in the kitchen. She'd told Dio that she was waiting to wear it on a special occasion... When she died, he thought that she'd want to be buried in it. But Dario made him bury her in the old rags and sell the dress for booze money... That was when he officially decided he wanted to poison his father…” Rohan clicks his tongue, “serves him right."

"Rohan." 

“Fine.” Rohan waves a dismissive hand at Josuke, not at all apologetic. He’d meant what he’d said after all.

Shitty, evil vampire bastard or not- no one deserved that childhood.

"Afterwards, he is brought into the Joestar family and treated as an equal to George Joestar's son, Jonathan..." Rohan looks confused, squinting at the page, "he has a lot of conflicting feelings about this ‘Jonathan’...” 

Rohan tilts his head, finding the handwriting illegible. When a person had extremely mixed feelings about another- the writing inside their ‘book’ would become messy, unreadable- almost. He’d uncovered something like this before- but never to this extent.

"He steals Erina Pendleton’s first kiss, but his own is three months prior- to a Mr Thomas Stevens, whom of which he blackmails into secrecy…” Rohan huffs, “what a little shit."

There’s a bout of silence as Rohan continues to read, his fingers stroking the pages absentmindedly. 

Giorno’s heart is beating too fast. He almost feels like he’s going to be sick. But he doesn’t for the life of him understand why. 

The other two remaining in the room take no notice.

"...What the fuck? Enraged after losing their fight- he puts Jonathan Joestar’s dog, Danny in the mansion furnace as vengeance? " Rohan looks over the pages again to make sure he’s reading that correctly. “This bitch is unhinged.” 

“That doesn’t mean a lot coming from you.” Josuke replies- unable to withhold his grimace nevertheless. 

It feels wrong, finding stuff out about his father like this. Giorno knows it too. It was the backwards way of getting to know a person. 

But in the end, what choice was he really given? 

 

“Keep reading.” 

 

Notes:

i REALLY wanna make it clear that im not defending dio or any of his terrible actions in the canon,, hes legit a super shitty person and despite his circumstances not being the best- he had countless opportunities to redeem himself and decided to just be a bastard instead

 

.... i do love him tho

Chapter 15: catarsi

Summary:

Giorno doesn’t stop. He knows he’s running his mouth. He’s relying on guesses- assumptions and his ability to read people… But ultimately he was flying blind with one wing strapped behind his back.

It didn’t matter.

He wants to see what Dio will do.

“It honestly makes so much sense that this asshole was a law student.” Josuke leans over the bed rail, scrutinising Dio’s unconscious facial expression. He puts a calculative hand to his chin, “that means he was a life-force-draining bloodsucker and a vampire at the same time…” He looks at the other two (sentient) people in the room. “...Heh, get it?” 

Despite the fervent silence being his only other reply- Josuke laughs at his own joke.

 

“Josuke.” 

 

Giorno says the name with a thinly veiled warning between his lips. Be silent.  

The older of the two scratches the back of his neck, sheepishly returning to the abyss of quiet. Geez... Tough crowd.

The unlikely trio were gradually nearing the point in Dio’s ‘life’ where he stole Jonathan Joestar’s body for himself- so he couldn’t necessarily blame Giorno’s solemn attitude...  But Rohan had no attachment to this bitchy vampire man whatsoever so why wasn’t he-

Oh, right, Rohan was a dick- and he hated him. That’s why he wasn’t laughing at his hilarity...

-God, he missed Okuyasu. He always thought he was funny…

Focus, Josuke!
He blinks, trying his best to regain a sense of concentration. It had been ages since they’d started- and they weren’t even up to the 80’s yet! It was like he was reading the world’s longest, saddest, gayest, most fucked-up Victorian novel in existence with no end in sight… 

Except, well, there was an end in sight.

It was literally here. 

“The ship sinks into the depths of the ocean a few hours before the sun sets. Dio only realises he doesn’t actually want Jonathan to die when his last breath escapes his lips.” Rohan squints again, trying to discern the endless scribbles of writing. It had grown even more illegible than before. “The last thing he does before falling into an indefinite stasis for several decades…” He speaks the words slowly, the mess of faux ink near indecipherable- “he cries. He cries while he severs Jonathan Joestar’s head from his body-” Rohan’s eyes widen as he mouths the words. “... What the fuck…”

Indeed.

Josuke exhales a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “I hate agreeing with you but, shit- what the fuck.”

Giorno just stares at the unconscious man before him. He has almost grown numb to it now- all this information. The endless plethora of horrific facts at his feet… But something about this particular segment strikes a chord within him. 

...And he isn’t sure he likes it. 

“I’m tapping out.” Josuke throws his hands in the air, backing away to the door. “There’s only so much weird murder shit I can handle in one day. I need a breather.”

Giorno can’t help but silently agree with him. They’d been at it for hours- pouring through each page of Dio’s book with meticulous detail and care. 

He’d never had to endure anything more exhausting…

”Perhaps it is time for a break.” Giorno concedes, breathing out the words like a sigh of relief. “He’s due to regain consciousness soon anyhow...” 

Rohan immediately ruffles at that. “Hmm yes… If you two insist on taking a break- I’ll be out in the foyer,” he flusters, trying to disguise his fearful dismay. 

Giorno feels a similar sense of dread. 

 

Just what in the world was he supposed to say to the man before him?

 

Josuke and Rohan leave the room- and Giorno is left alone with his father yet again. 

It is the first time that he feels discontent with that factor.

Giorno knew now for certain that Dio was a horrible person- an evil being with no moral compass whatsoever…

But Giorno also knew that Dio couldn’t smell the cologne his father used to use without feeling sick to his stomach. He knew that during their period of peace- he tutored Jonathan Joestar in mathematics and felt so entirely (secretly) pleased when the boy passed with flying colours at the end of the year. He knew that he brought the most enormous bouquet of flowers to his mother’s grave the second he was given his first allowance under the Joestar residence…

It was a dichotomy of mixed feelings and mixed actions. Giorno hated it. He’d always been so sure of himself. Always so certain…

-But now he didn’t know what to feel.

“I, Dio, do hope you enjoyed scavenging through my mind like a filthy rat.” 

Giorno blinks.

It was like a switch flipping. Dio opens his eyes and sits stark upright all in one motion- his expression aflame with displeasure. 

Giorno swallows, watching him with an ever-growing caution. “...How long have you been awake?” 

A short pause.

“A while.” 

Dio looks down at his hands, cracking his knuckles. 

“Did you take pleasure in your little history lesson with the Joestar’s merry band of half-wits?” 

Giorno matches his scowl. “It was far more informative than you’ve ever been, ” he retorted.

“Such blatant audacity... Jojo would be turning in his grave.”

“I’m sure he would be if you hadn’t stolen his body from him.” 

Giorno doesn’t think Dio’s ever had someone that’s verbally gone toe-to-toe with him before. He looks perplexed while listening to Giorno’s rapid-fire replies. “You needn’t have asked for the Joestar clan’s assistance. I, Dio could have told you everything that you needed to know.” 

Now, they both knew that wasn’t true.

“I didn’t ask for the Joestar’s assistance.” Giorno corrects- his pride at stake. “They came to me.” He walks about the room, only sparing a few stray glances back at Dio. “Kujo Jotaro wants to have you killed and I’m sure he’s not the only one.” 

Giorno honestly isn’t sure if that’s still the case for Kujo. 

-But judging by the way he knocked Dio the fuck out the first time he coherently opened his mouth... It’s safe to say it wouldn’t be slander to say such things on his behalf. 

As expected, Dio’s lip curls unpleasantly.

“He beat you before, there’s no doubt he could do it again…” Giorno turns on his heel, “especially if someone like me aided him in doing so.”

Dio raises an eyebrow, “oh? You’d murder your own father?”

Giorno wouldn’t. Couldn’t. But Dio didn’t need to know that. “I’d just be following in your footsteps.” He replies. “I have everything I need from you.” A lie. “ You’re just a waste of space to me now.” 

...Okay, that part was kind of true. He did miss having his room all to himself.

Ugh, how old was he? Thirteen?

Dio regards him coolly- thoughtfully almost. He doesn’t look the least bit happy, but he does look contemplative. Giorno wonders what is going on in his head.

“I, Dio understand that you are the leader of this little... gang , correct?” He says, his voice unwaveringly cold. “Perhaps I could be of service... If you free me from these chambers you’ll find I, Dio could significantly assist your organisation in many different natures.” 

Giorno takes the offer with a grain of salt. “How charitable.” He comments. “...What are you expecting as compensation?” 

As tactless as ever, Dio doesn’t hesitate. “Kill all of the Joestars.” 

Neither does Giorno. “No.” 

Dio refuses to counter. He wasn’t one to compromise. He just glares back at Giorno with a harsh, ugy sneer on his face. 

“You don’t really want that, anyway.” Giorno adds, looking over at Dio with a nonchalant expression. 

The silence stretches between them.

“Ultimately, you wanted to be Jonathan Joestar’s friend. You wanted to be one of them.” 

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room now. 

Giorno doesn’t stop. He knows he’s running his mouth. He’s relying on guesses- assumptions and his ability to read people… But ultimately he was flying blind with one wing strapped behind his back. 

It didn’t matter. 

He wants to see what Dio will do.

“You were jealous of his happiness. You acted out because it was the only thing you knew how to do. You killed him because you knew you’d never have the power that he had.” 

Something just short of a growl escapes Dio’s lips.

“You didn’t realise until Jonathan died that he was more than willing to share it all with you. You were too wrapped up in your own hatred to see it. It was too late.” Giorno steps closer, “you think you want to kill the Joestars because you have a need to erase your petty mistake of feeling regret. But deep down you know that that isn’t what you want at all...” 

Dio twitches. “Enough. Be silent-” 

“You know what I think? I think you were lying before. I think you slept around to ensure the exact opposite was the case-” 

Like a flash, one second Dio is before him, and the next he is across the room- sending a flying kick right toward Giorno’s chest. 

He was fast. Even without his stand. Giorno doesn’t see it coming until he feels the blow push him backward toward the window. 

Dio didn’t like to leave survivors. That much Giorno was sure of. His mother had been lucky- but he isn’t sure if he will share the same fate as her... 

As much as he’d love to wholeheartedly believe that he could kill Dio himself- he isn’t sure. Power-wise he knows he’s stronger… But emotionally? He just doesn’t think he’d be able to do it. Especially now that he knew nearly everything.  

Giorno is flung back into the wall, the sound of the crumbling bricks behind his head leads him to believe that Dio was once more at his full strength.

The man steps closer, cornering him. Giorno knows he could escape now- he could easily use GER and subdue him once more...

-But he’s far more curious than scared right now. 

He wants to see what Dio will do.

Giorno isn’t sure if the sound of thunder outside is in his head or if it truly is storming out there. The rain on the window pane grates into his head like a fond tune turned sour. 

Tall and menacing, Dio reels back- deciding on a powerful punch this time-

Like he was a child once more, Giorno puts his arms in front of his face to protect himself. He disregards all thoughts about his stand. He forgets about his unfathomable power. Suddenly, he’s eight years old all over again and his step-father is in an awful mood. His mother is watching from the dining table with a cigarette to her cherry-painted lips...

Dio instantly freezes in his tracks.

It’s only then that Giorno realises that perhaps he’d taken ‘this’ too far.

It’s obvious that Dio is now seeing his younger self in Giorno, cowering at the hands of that wretched Dario Brando- waiting for the inevitable blow that his own mother could no longer shield him from…

Giorno watches Dio’s face with wide eyes as the man comprehends that he has become his own worst nightmare. 

Dio visibly slumps. His furious expression growing pained, his fists lowering. 

He drops to his knees to level his gaze at Giorno. 

It is the first time that they are seeing eye to eye.

Giorno thinks it’s a trick of the light making Dio’s eyes look so watery. There was no other true explanation he could think of- unless the rain had somehow gotten in here…

“Father?” It’s the first time Giorno calls him that to his face. It feels odd. 

Dio curses, furiously wiping at his eyes.

Oh.

Giorno was at a loss on what to do. How did one comfort a man that didn’t deserve it? How did one fix something that had been broken from the start? 

Dio was a bad person- but right now Giorno just saw the side of him that he’d had hidden away for centuries. 

Fuck it. 

Giorno is on autopilot- for once in his life he doesn’t think about his actions. 

He grabs the mess of a being that is his father and he hugs him without a second’s more hesitation. 

Notes:

i know that this is mega ooc for dio but consider this,,,,, i wanted them to hug

Chapter 16: pioggia

Summary:

Mista just sneers at him, “don’t pull that shit, Giorno,” he points at him, accusatory. “Why the fuck were you hugging Mr. Slutty Dracula over there?”  

They stay like that for a while. 

It’s strange. Giorno thought it would be far more uncomfortable- jarring, maybe- and, it was a little bit but nothing entirely out of the question. It makes his insides feel rather strange- like a stomach ache but… warmer? Whatever it was, it was a sensation that hadn’t seemed to quite exist within Giorno prior to this. 

...Perhaps this was a beginning semblance of... closure?  

At some point, Dio starts hugging him back. The motions are extremely tentative and almost awkward . It makes Giorno come to the realisation that Dio had probably forgotten how to actually hug somebody. 

-If he’d even learnt in the first place... 

They don’t speak. Not for a while at least. They just listen to the rain outside. It had quelled in the past few moments to a dull patter on the glass. It was far more pleasant now… The sound felt cathartic rather than grating.

But clear skies weren’t upon them just yet.  

“I plan on recruiting more stand users for Passione.” Giorno says, tasting the words on his tongue. “I require an… advisor of some sorts to provide guidance in commanding such a large group of powerful individuals.” He speaks against the crackling silence, verbally extending an olive branch. 

He knew Dio would be too proud to be the first to speak- the first to assess the situation... 

-And Giorno was better than that. 

He had to be.

“...I understand that you have some sort of experience in that field? Are you perhaps interested in staying in Italy for a while longer?” 

They both knew what he was doing. They both knew the true situation at hand. 

Dio came to him because he had no choice but to go. And now he had no choice but to stay. 

There would be no chance in the world that Jotaro would leave Dio alone unchecked. Here, at least, there would be some degree of freedom. Giorno was his best and only option. 

Giorno, on the other hand, would be just fine without Dio- he had been just fine for nineteen years without Dio... 

...But he was admittedly quite sick of being just fine. 

And besides... Giorno kind of wanted him to stay.

He’d always had a great affection for family- blood-related or not. Perhaps it was because there was a severe lack of it in his childhood- a desire for what he couldn’t have and all that…

Dio was a massive pain in the ass- but Giorno wanted to take full responsibility for him. He wanted to know more- see more and he didn’t want to just hear it from a book.  

He wanted to unfold this mystery surrounding his father- with the willing assistance of his father. 

Dio’s composure had once more taken hold of his face, his scowl is back and he remains frowning at Giorno. “I, Dio simply could not have any son of mine making a disappointment of himself.” 

It takes a moment for the sentiment to process. 

...Ah.

Giorno tries to keep the victorious smile out of his expression but it’s very near impossible.

 

...It’s not long after that that Mista breaks down the door with a rather frantic kick.

-And, well, that would have been all sweet and dramatically ‘heroic’ -had Giorno been in danger, or if the door had even been fucking locked in the first place.

The gunslinger rushes into the room with a flurry, his hat skewed and haphazard on the top of his head. It showed just a tidbit of the charming dark curls underneath- the ones that he damn near insisted on constantly hiding. “Giorno! I heard a huge thumping noise and I- what the fuck?” 

What the fuck was right. 

Giorno couldn’t blame him for the reaction. He’d probably have a similar one given the situation. Giorno stands up from the ground, clearing his throat of the awkward nature of the scene before him. “Excellent response time, Mista.” He says, a mask of composure. “If this were a dire situation I would have only been dead for a few minutes.” 

Mista just sneers at him, “don’t pull that shit, Giorno,” he points at him, accusatory. “Why the fuck were you hugging Mr. Slutty Dracula over there?”  

Giorno blinks. “...Can a son not hug his father?” 

“You were debating on killing him last time I saw you.” 

Dio chuckles from behind him.

Giorno shrugs, “that’s semantics.” 

“No?” Mista looks incredulous- more than usual, anyway. “Come on,” he shuffles over to where Giorno currently was and takes him by the arm. “We need to talk.” 

Giorno lets him lead him. His hand felt lovely and warm so he’d forgive the insubordination just this once.

 

---

 

“Where in the world are you taking me, Mista-?” 

They were well outside of the mansion now, walking about the manicured grounds like they were taking a midnight stroll in the rain. Giorno didn’t necessarily mind the rain- but his coat was rather expensive and he’d rather not sully any of the lovely cashmere material… 

Mista finally settles on an ornate gazebo far off from any prying eyes or ears of the area. He promptly lets go of Giorno’s arm and the other almost longed for its presence there once more.

“I want an actual answer, Giorno,” Mista keeps his gaze on him. He looks so anachronistically serious that Giorno has to blink a few times to believe the vision before his eyes. 

He didn’t like the expression on Mista at all. His face didn’t suit it.

Giorno looks at him, a frown itching at his mouth, “we had a fight about… some of our issues-” he swallowed, “things got intense and… well,” Giorno shrugs, “I think I may have forced some kind of self-actualisation out of him.”

“So what was that loud noise-?” 

“Oh- he kicked me into a wall-”
“WHAT?” 

Giorno waves him off, “as if I wouldn’t have been able to fight back with tenfold the power…”
Mista’s expression sours at his response, “but you shouldn’t have to, you know?” He looks out into the rain with a shuddering sigh. “I know that you want to be close to your father. It makes sense. I can understand it... But- but you don’t deserve this.” 

“I know.” Giorno says softly. “He is a… complicated man but- I feel like we’ve made significant progress today.” 

Mista’s expression doesn’t change. It remains as gloomy and unapproachable as the weather. “You don’t need him, you know?”

Giorno sighs- “Mista-” 

“I need you to be sure that this is what you want. I need you to know that if you’re just doing this because you want a family- then-!” Mista groans- his face growing red, “I’d love you way more than any stupid fucking half-assed blood-related family.”

Giorno’s eyes widen.

Mista quickly backpedals, “uh- um, me and Trish both care about you and shit, yeah? We’re all a family in of itself, y-you know?” He flusters, scratching the back of his neck. The frown still hadn’t left his face but Giorno could see the beginnings of his Mista returning. “It’s just that I’m-”

Giorno thinks he understands what all this was for- this discontent. 

Mista had begun to grow concerned that he was being pushed to the side in favour of Giorno’s shifty blood relatives. Mista was worried for him. Mista was insecure.

That’s why he’d been acting kind of strange lately... Oh.

Perhaps Giorno was still in an unusually emotional mindset. Perhaps this dance that the two of them had been doing around each other would have to end. Perhaps an entirely new set of chapters in Giorno’s life would have to begin all at once...

-Whatever it was, he quickly quells all of Mista’s anxious feelings and his own realisation with a kiss to the gunslinger’s lips.

Rainwater had never tasted quite as sweet as this. Mista’s lips are soft and warm- just like the rest of him, but there’s a strength to his embrace that makes Giorno know just how much this meant to the both of them.

The breakaway is agony. 

“I want all of this, Mista. I am Giorno Giovanna and I want to learn, I want to struggle - I want the challenge and-” He looks directly into Mista’s eyes. “I want you.” 

He’d always been particularly good at rallying his troops.

Mista finally smiles at him. Nothing ever quite convinced him like grand displays did, after all. “Giorno, man, ” he says, still holding onto him. “You’ve had me for ages.” 

 

Notes:

there was such a GREAT response to last chapter omg guys it was so nice,,, i read all ur comments with a smile on my face :')

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Chapter 17: acquario

Summary:

“You have a great liking for my son, little Italian boy.” Dio hisses, slithering about Mista with his eyes narrowed. Giorno can tell that Mista was just about as shocked over the situation as he was- if not more. 

Dio pauses in front of him, his expression was wholeheartedly ominous now. 

His face is an inch away from Mista’s. His eyes narrowed into slits.

“Remember that whatever you do to him, I, Dio will do to you.”  

Dio is lounging around on the stairwell banister when Giorno and Mista return from their rendezvous out in the rain.

It feels wrong just seeing him anywhere instead of solely in Giorno’s quarters. He doesn’t necessarily look out of place- he matched the gaudy grandeur of the mansion quite nicely, actually- it was just…

-Well, it made things seem more real . It made Dio a sentient being with voluntary thoughts and actions and feelings- instead of just a primarily comatose evil vampire man that only resided in Giorno’s little, heavily-guarded space.

He regards the pair of them with a perfectly cocked eyebrow. 

“Interesting.” Is all he says, gracefully stepping off of the little perch that he’d made for himself. He makes no sound at all as he walks toward them. There was always something snake-like about the way he moved, sauntering about with that dangerous aura of his. Every inch of the sparing vulnerability that he’d shown in front of Giorno was long gone now. 

-But that didn’t really come as a surprise...

However, Giorno could also tell that there was an aspect that was… Less severe about Dio now. An aspect that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

Dio still looked like malevolence incarnate but there was something different there as well. 

Giorno thinks that the man is headed his way, his eyes narrowed as he closed in on the two of them... 

-But he couldn’t be more wrong.

“You have a great liking for my son, little Italian boy.” Dio hisses, slithering about Mista with his eyes narrowed. Giorno can tell that Mista was just about as shocked over the situation as he was- if not more . 

Dio pauses in front of him, his expression was wholeheartedly ominous now. 

His face is an inch away from Mista’s. His eyes narrowed into slits.

“Remember that whatever you do to him, I, Dio will do to you.”  

Without another word, Dio climbs up the stairway in a flash and promptly returns back to Giorno’s quarters- leaving the pair of them to wonder if he’d even been here in the first place.

“What in the world..?” Giorno whispers, still staring at the place he’d last seen his father before he’d prowled out of sight. 

Had Dio just threatened Mista? And how did he even know that they were..? And why did he care, anyway? 

Yet again, Giorno had so many questions and so little answers. 

Giorno turns to Mista, ready to offer up some sort of explanation when he notices something. 

“...Mista, are you hard right now ?”

Mista lets out an ear-piercing squeak of incredulity. “No!” He exclaimed- far too quickly for it to be the truth. 

A beat of awkward silence passes between them. 

Giorno continues to stare at the other.

“...Okay maybe a little…” He admitted, waving his hands around in a frantic motion, “but not because I think your dad is hot- I mean- he is- but that’s not why I’m-” He gestures to himself rather crudely. “He just put the thought in my head about what we’re-” He cuts himself off prematurely. 

“We’re…?” Giorno liked to watch him squirm.

“What we’re gonna do later- eventually.” He cleared his throat, uncomfortable. “When you’re ready, y-you know. If you want. I don’t want to pressure you or anyth-” 

Giorno silences him with a look. Mista gulped down whatever remained of the sentence he’d had stalled on his lips.

 

---

 

“...What the hell was that just now?” 

Dio is sitting on the bed, inspecting his nails disinterestedly. “What do you mean?” He asks. 

Giorno approaches with a callous frown. “You have no authority to be threatening my men.” 

“ Men plural ? There’s more than one?” Dio’s expression was particularly wolfish at the moment, “you really are my son.” 

Wait… Was that his version of a dad joke? Did Dio just tell a dad joke?

“No-” Giorno snaps, huffing in frustration. He could feel his cheeks growing red without his consent. “I meant my lackeys. You’re not permitted to tell them off at my behest.” 

Dio blinks, his face sobering just a touch more. He finally looks up at Giorno. “I, Dio, am not entirely sure as to why I chided him.” 

“...What?” 

That was something that Giorno had never thought would pass Dio’s lips. That admission of being ignorant. It was something wholly human. 

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” 

Giorno tilts his head at the man. An inquisitive frown playing on his lips. “Do you feel… protective of me, perhaps?” 

Dio looks incredulous, “absolutely not.” 

“Oh?” 

There was something odd about the way Dio looked. Almost like he was beginning to grasp at straws- searching for an excuse that just wouldn’t come to him. “That man is suspicious and his fashion sense is sub-par.”  

Now that was the pot calling the kettle black. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, father,” Giorno says softly, his head in a spin from the barrage of emotions hitting him all at once. It had been one hell of a day. He had so much more that he wanted to talk to his father about- now that he seemed to be acting lenient, for once- and yet he didn’t want to break this spell Dio was seemingly under...

It would do no good to keep pressing him like this. Perhaps he’d just let Dio simmer in his actions for once. It seemed like he had a lot of thinking to do. 

“I will see you in the morning.” 

 

---

 

Rohan was left to his own devices after Giorno, Josuke and he had taken a break on Dio. He’d begun wandering about the halls of the mansion- admiring the architecture. His fingers itched for a pencil to draw the elegant sweep of the ceilings…

When he uncovers the large aquarium in the eastern wing he knows he isn’t alone any more. 

Jotaro stands with Jolyne, admiring all the fish in the large tank. 

“That one’s a blue tang.” Jotaro points at the colourful fish flitting about in the water. His voice is as monotone as always- but there’s something fond about the way he speaks now.

Rohan isn’t sure if it’s because of his daughter, or the fish. 

Jolyne gasps, “like Finding Nemo!”
“Mhm.” Jotaro nods in affirmation. 

Jolyne steps closer to the glass- careful not to knock it with her hands. Her grin was illuminated by the light. She points at a larger fish, swimming close to the top. “What’s that one, daddy?”

Rohan watches them for a moment, analysing the scene in his mind. Those two certainly were a strange bunch- and Rohan had always found strange fascinating... 

-But, just this once… He thinks he won’t intrude on this.

Jotaro had been silently agonising over the Dio situation for so long that he hadn’t properly spent any time with his daughter on this trip. 

Rohan is starting to think, though, that this predicament had been running for longer than just that. 

...And though Rohan doesn’t think his presence would be too jarring for either of them at this point, he thinks that maybe he’ll just leave them be. 

There was much more left to explore, after all. 

“It’s nice to see Jotaro-san’s stopped frowning for once,” Josuke says, leaning on a column behind him. The sudden voice makes Rohan jump right out of his skin. He hadn’t expected to be caught like this- by Josuke no less. He hissed. Rohan had no idea that that buffoon had the capabilities to even be quiet!

Ugh. 

Rohan still doesn’t want to interrupt the father-daughter pair by causing a scene though, so he simply inhales a sharp intake of breath. Trying his darndest to refrain from cursing Josuke out. “It is,” he agrees- brushing past Josuke a little too harshly for it to be conceived as amicable. 

He certainly couldn’t have that.

 

---

 

“You most likely have siblings.” 

It’s the first thing Dio says when Giorno comes back through the door the next morning.

It rightfully stops him in his tracks. 

“... What?” 

Dio shrugs- the arrogant air around him surrounding his entire being. “I, Dio fraternised with many a woman back when I last trod the Earth. There is a high possibility that you are not the sole product of my actions.”

Giorno had always thought that to be a possibility- but hearing Dio outrightly admit it was something far newer.

The room suddenly turns serious as Dio looks out at the window, a frown appearing on his features. “I imagine a lot of them would be in the Americas. That is where I spent a lot of my time before I travelled to Egypt.”

Giorno raised an eyebrow, “why is that?”

“...I, Dio had a good friend... Enrico Pucci.” Dio replies, looking back at Giorno. 

Giorno had never heard his father refer to any one of his followers as a ‘friend.’ He was fairly certain that he hadn’t had any. After all, he was… Well, Dio.

“He was the one who brought me back.”

Oh. 

It was that easy?! 

No ‘Heaven’s Door’ no nothing. No prompting- no dancing around the subject. The response was there. Plain and simple. Dio was suddenly filled with straight-forward answers. It was like someone had flipped a switch in his mind. Was it a mercy that caused him to do this? Was it something else entirely?  

Had Giorno gained his trust after their bout? 

Or had he realised that Giorno was going to get those answers no matter what it took? 

It was probably that one.

Giorno certainly wouldn’t want anyone digging around in his own head, after all. Just telling a limited truth was far more preferable. Dio had probably just decided to weigh his options. 

“Is he still… alive?”
Dio’s mouth curls unpleasantly. “He was foolish. He was over eager to complete the procedure and died in the process. I awoke next to his body in a graveyard in London, where-” He cuts himself off. “Where I believe Jojo must have buried whatever remained of my original body all those years ago.” Dio clicks his tongue, “stupid man. I did not need his pity. ” He spat.

Giorno stares at him. Unable to believe that this was the same man that refused to admit that he didn’t know what the internet was. 

“If you don’t mind- would you inform me of the happenings of your first re-awakening?” Giorno won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. If Dio was still feeling charitable, he wasn’t going to squander that opportunity. 

“I thought you knew enough?” Dio sneered. 

“We… Didn’t reach that part.” Giorno replied, mildly sheepish. “Besides, I want to hear it from you.” 

“...Oh.” 

There’s a strange silence that passed between the two of them. It’s almost fond- almost comfortable. 

Giorno idly wonders if he’ll blink and suddenly have all of this taken away. 

He still wasn’t used to getting what he wanted. 

Chapter 18: ombrello

Summary:

Giorno’s eyes widen in surprise. “Signor Kujo, this is surprising.” 
“Jotaro.” 
“Hmm?”
“Just call me Jotaro.” 

Oh. 

Giorno is standing outside of the mansion, listening to the pouring rain coming down with a detached kind of tranquillity. It hadn’t stopped the entire time he’d been speaking with Dio and continued to fall in rivulets long after they’d finished. 

Giorno wasn’t superstitious enough to take it as some kind of omen. It was just weather, after all.

Besides…

-He was starting to like the rain.

Dio’s words hadn’t been shocking in the slightest. Kujo had told him what his father had been like when they’d fought in Egypt- and despite his bias, he wasn’t one to outrightly lie. 

No, this escapade wasn’t to obtain more information. It was more so just about re-affirming what Giorno had known from the start. 

Dio wasn’t a good person. 

He lied, he murdered, he cheated… He did almost every bad thing that one person could possibly do. Giorno knew this- for certain now. And yet he couldn’t disparage the thought that… Well…  

Giorno himself wasn’t a good person either. 

No matter what other people said to him to dispute otherwise- Giorno wasn’t blind to his own ideals- his own masterplan. He knew that killing people was wrong. He knew that there were many dark sides to his line of business.

But he also knew that he was on the right path for him. He was the only one who could make the world better with his dubious deeds. He would use his power for good, just as he always had.

Morality was never a black and white line that one crossed. It was far more grey than any other shade. 

Giorno knew he wasn’t good. 

But he also knew he wasn’t as bad as Dio. 

In this ever-twisting world- he would probably never be fully certain where he waded in this pool of grey. He just knew that Dio was far closer to falling to black than he ever would be.

And despite that… Giorno could still see light there. Buried deep within him. The slightest slither of something that he could hold on to. 

Call him desperate- delusional. It didn’t really matter. Giorno never wavered- never faltered. He knew what he thought of his father. He knew what he saw- who he saw. 

Giorno sighed, listening to the dull patter of the raindrops hit the concrete. So much had changed in the past few weeks. He’d received so many new relatives. So many new people that he could count as family… For his younger self, it was like a dream come true. 

“I forgot an umbrella.” 

The words nearly make Giorno jump right out of his skin. 

He isn’t used to being snuck up on. He was always on his toes. Always calculating…

Kujo didn’t seem to care about his prestige, though. 

He looks out into the rain with a frown. 

Giorno hadn’t seen him since he’d wailed on Dio yesterday. He’d been wondering where the man had run off to. Giorno had assumed he’d went home with the others at some point before the rain had truly started pouring down last night.

And now… He was back again. 

“I apologise for Mista and Trish’s lack of competence with Jolyne.” Giorno says plainly, watching the man’s unmoving expression. He was a strange one, always so stoic- yet incredibly easy to anger. 

“Don’t mention it.” Kujo replied, ducking under his cap. He has his hands in his pockets- as per usual. 

“...Though, it was a pretty excellent excuse to punch my father.” 

Kujo turns to Giorno. He looks like he wants to say something else but he simply smirks, “yeah.” 

They spend a moment in silence, simply watching the water fall down from the heavens. 

“Look.” Kujo says, “I-” 

He closes his mouth again. It looks like he’s wrestling with himself to get the words out. 

“We’re leaving.” Is what he utters. Slow and calculated. 

Giorno raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. He knew Kujo was a man of few words- but Giorno wasn’t a mind reader. They’d have to come to some sort of arrangement.

“I think… you can handle it from here… Dio, I mean.” He clears his throat. 

Giorno’s eyes widen in surprise. “Signor Kujo, this is surprising.” 

“Jotaro.” 

“Hmm?”

“Just call me Jotaro.” 

Oh. 

Giorno doesn’t attempt to hide his smile. He rests his head against the cool stone of the mansion wall. “Ah, I suppose I am technically your great-great uncle...” 

“...Don’t push it, you little shit.” To Giorno’s surprise, Jotaro is half-laughing when he says it. 

He decides not to comment on it- for fear that this rapport would end. It seemed that he had gained some semblance of Jotaro’s trust. 

Giorno is once more reminded of how much had changed in a simple matter of days. 

Then again… He had turned from a lowly gang member to the boss of Passione in a simple matter of days, also.

Giorno Giovanna got shit done. 

The young boss looks forward now, staring at the grass growing ever greener by the water. 

“Ah, you know, we have a saying in Italian; ‘piove sul bagnato,” he speaks- the rain making it hard for him to be heard. “It means.. ‘when it rains it pours...’” Giorno sighs, looking up at the clouds providing the oncoming downpour. “I thought it rather aptly explained my situation. With Dio… With everyone else... But I think I’ve underestimated it all… when it rains, it fucking floods.” 

Another moment of silence passes between them. It’s reflective and almost endearing. There are no untrusting stares anymore. Giorno thinks that, for once, he knows where he stands with Jotaro. 

And that was quite honestly a good feeling. 

“...If it’s any consolation…” Jotaro looks at him in that gruff way that Giorno had always construed as unfriendly. 

He now just sees it as social awkwardness. 

Perhaps there was far more to Kujo Jotaro than he let on. 

“You did good, kid.” 

Oh.

Giorno simply can’t help the childish spell of warmth spreading across his chest. It’s not a feeling that came to him naturally... 

But in the cold weather as of late- perhaps it was a nice change of pace.  

“...Thanks.”

Notes:

alright next person to write a kakyoin milf hunter joke in the comments owes me $50 in emotional expenses

Chapter 19: inizio

Summary:

“Yes but I, Dio, much prefer blood.” 
“And why is that?” Giorno tilts his head, a hand on his hip. This conversation was barely five minutes long and he was already exasperated. “Don’t say it’s because it’s sexier-”
“-Because it is sexier.”   
Giorno sighs.

“Not the slightest chance in the world.” 

“Father.” The word still tasted strange on his lips. Giorno had never called anyone his father before. His mother’s husband had tried to beat the word into him but it never really stuck.

Gee… Wonder why...  

Even now… It was strange. He’s not sure how fond he is of it. The syllables felt clunky on his lips and just didn’t seem to roll off his tongue like he knew it ought to.  

“It’s just dinner. You can handle that.” 

“I do not like that little Italian man. He is far too hairy.” 

Giorno’s expression morphs into a frown. He knew now where he got his vehement pigheadedness. “This isn’t just about Mista. Trish will be there too. It’s important that we discuss your position in Passione.” 

“I, Dio, prefer to simply drink blood in silence. I have no need for your mortal trifles.” 

Giorno doesn’t think the pun was intended. After all, Dio couldn’t possibly know what they were having for dessert. 

“You specifically told me that you were, and I quote, ‘so eternally blessed with grandeur that you could suffice on either blood or typical mundane sustenance.’”

Dio preens as if Giorno had paid him a compliment instead of just reciting his own words back to him. His own, ridiculous words... 

Giorno would typically call bullshit right about now, but at this point- Dio being able to consume human food as well as blood was way down on the list of weird things about this situation.

“Yes but I, Dio, much prefer blood.” 

“And why is that?” Giorno tilts his head, a hand on his hip. This conversation was barely five minutes long and he was already exasperated. “Don’t say it’s because it’s sexier-”
“-Because it is sexier.”   

Giorno sighs.

The food situation with Dio hadn’t been that much of a problem so far. With a healing stand like Giorno’s- things like hunger and thirst were much easier to manipulate. 

But now that Dio was back to some essence of his former self- things were much harder in some areas... and easier in others.

For one, Giorno didn’t have to drain his life energy- but for another, he now had to drag his unwilling, century old father to dinner like he was a fucking toddler.

It really was a give and take situation. 

“With all due respect, I could not give less of a shit about what you want. You’re going and that’s final.” Giorno narrows his eyes at Dio. 

Dio cocks his head at his son. “That is no way to talk to your father.” 

“And that is no way to talk to your boss.” 

 

Dio ends up at the dining table with the bitchiest frown on his face.

 

They enjoy a meal discussing the inner workings of Passione and quickly surmise their next move. 

Dio kicks Mista under the table a few times but Trish laughs too hard over it for Giorno to be too mad.

 

Giorno doesn’t think this is back to normal. Rather, it’s a new kind of normal that he most definitely could get used to. 

 

---

 

This trip had most assuredly been dishearteningly uneventful. Romance-wise at least. Rohan wanted to throw himself into the fucking ocean. 

He had known that wooing this ridiculously emotionally-stunted hunk of a man wouldn’t be easy, (he loved a challenge,) but at this point- Rohan was starting to think that Jotaro just straight up didn’t like him like that.

Which was IMPOSSIBLE. After all, what was there not to like? 

Rohan was frowning deeply into the abyss of the sea, his lips twitching as he looked at the shoreline. He hadn’t ventured with the rest of them back into Giorno’s mansion for the day- instead he’d found his eyes drawn toward the ocean more and more. He supposes that was why he was here now, standing in the slowing rain with his umbrella like a dramatic war-time damsel in search of the ship that would carry her husband back to her.  

Was he approaching this the wrong way? Did he need to be even more forward about his advances? 

The sky was so cloudy that it had turned the ocean near black- it was like an enormous vat of glistening tar. If Rohan were in any kind of creative mindset- he’d have half a mind to draw it up for his next ‘Pink Dark Boy’ chapter. 

Everything here was so much more vibrant than anything back in Morioh. The waves lapped at the ground below him- angered and chaotic. The flat side of his home town seemed a mere trifle now... 

And yet… 

There was something about Morioh that always had him coming back- always had him homesick for the colourful little houses and rowdy school children. It gave him hope. 

Perhaps he had some pride in his home after all.

He had helped save it once or twice.

Fuck it. 

Rohan whips out a magnificently sleek flip phone from his back pocket, huffing with irritation. He dials Jotaro’s number before he can think to stop himself. 

Dialling… Dialling… Dialling…

Shit, what was Rohan even doing? 

He needed to-

“Kujo.” 

“Uh!” 

Rohan says it way too loud- even with the rain in the background. 

This was a mistake.

He takes a deep breath, looking out into the ocean. Fuck it. FUCK IT. They were leaving soon anyway. Worst comes to worst- he could just never see him again…

He would miss Jolyne, though.

“Look,” Rohan says, “I don’t know if you’re being polite or whatever but I just need you to know all of this.”
He felt like a coward, doing this over the phone. But at this point it just didn’t fucking matter. The crackling silence on the other line is encouragement enough for him to keep going. 

“Originally I just thought you were Josuke’s hot relative that I wanted to sleep with, you know? You came into town in your turtleneck and your PhD and it was just a physical thing. But now…” Rohan looks out into the ocean with a scowl, “now I know too much about you for it to just be a physical thing and it’s fucking annoying... What I’m trying to say is…” Another breath, shuddering and nervous. 

Embarrassing. 

“I like you, in the ‘I want to date you,’ way. I can’t tell if you were too dense to see that or you’re just being considerate but… there.” Rohan says finally. “Do whatever you want with that information. I don’t care.” 

He totally did.     

There’s a spare moment of silence where Rohan isn’t sure if he wants to stay on the line or just hang up. He can’t tell what was worse. 

“...Who is this?”

Oh yeah, wait, this was definitely worse.

Rohan sputters incomprehensibly, fumbling with his umbrella. “W-”
“I’m kidding. I thought it would be funny. Sorry, Rohan.” 

Kujo Jotaro? Telling a joke? The slight tinge of humour in his voice makes Rohan’s heart do backflips in his chest. Oh, this was so much worse than just lustful attraction. This was a straight-up school girl crush, wasn’t it? Fucking awful.  

“You-” Rohan pauses, his voice sounding echo-y on the other line. He could hear the reverb from a few metres away. 

Strange... 

That only happened when-

Rohan turned around. 

...When the other person was close by.

Jotaro stands a few metres away in the rain, his phone still held to his ear. Stone-faced as ever.

“...Hey.” 

Rohan furrows his eyebrows. “What are you doing here?” He asks the question into the phone for a reason unbeknownst to even himself. 

“Came to think.” 

“Without an umbrella?” 

“Forgot it.” 

A silence passes between them. It’s palpable despite the weather- that of which had now finally slowed to a dull patter on the concrete.

“I…” Jotaro begins speaking again. Rohan doesn’t think he’s ever been the first to break the silence. The man seemed to live in it- bask in it like a cat to sunlight. “I’m not good with this shit.” 

“I figured.” Rohan sighs, “Me neither, honestly. I don’t typically… go out with people.” 

Kishibe Rohan simply didn’t date. He liked his own space. He liked to be alone. He didn’t care that his house in Morioh was far too big just for himself. Being alone meant he was the only one that got hurt. 

Perhaps Reimi had left a bigger impression on his life than he wanted to think about.

“Ah.” 

“Yeah.”

Jotaro puts his hands in his pockets, entirely unfazed by how soaked they were. Honestly, they were probably small ponds at this point. “So we’ve been doomed from the start.”

“So it seems.”

Another bout of silence. This time, more fond. The rain felt warmer now- like it was tinged by the hidden tangerine glow of the oncoming sunset. 

“Do you… Do you want to try anyway?” 

Rohan feels his lips twitch upwards in a rare, genuine smile. “...I’d like that.”

Notes:

did u guys like my trifle joke i thot it was really really funny

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Chapter 20: finale

At this point, Giorno was simply accustomed to the bizarre. It had become entirely normal to him.

...And, it seemed, that that feeling had run in the family long before his existence.

His family .

That summer night Giorno hadn’t just suddenly gained a father. He’d inherited a bunch of other branches on his fucked up family tree as well. 

-And, despite their rocky beginnings and less-than-great circumstances- Giorno thinks he may be seeing a lot more of them in the times to come. The Joestar blood ran through his veins just the same as Dio’s did, after all. 

...This meant he’d never be far away from trouble- or far away from causing it. 

Giorno was fine with that. It kind of came with the job, anyway. A prerequisite. He counted himself lucky. He didn’t know how Jotaro could get any of his research done when there was always so much other shit happening. 

He was a badass, that much Giorno had to admit… But by the looks of him, he’d been fighting for a long, long time and was quite tired of it. 

This trip, though, it seemed to make changes for everyone. Even the most stubborn of them all.

“I’m leaving this with you… But if you ever need help…” He looks off into the distance, his eyes fixed to an invisible point that Giorno would never be able to see. “We’re not that far away.” 

He still looks hesitant- but it’s miles apart from their first meeting. Not that long ago- this had been the man that had refused to budge on his mission. He’d been here to kill Dio again and that was it. 

Now, though. It was different. He was passing the torch to Giorno. He was loosening the reins. 

Giorno could rely on Polnareff’s oddly smug amphibian expression for the exact reasoning as to why this was. The Frenchmen had always been good at wording things in just the right way. 

Perhaps Jotaro had finally gotten a grip on what was actually important. 

“Not on Fridays though!” Jolyne chimes in, hugging her father’s legs. “That’s pizza night!” A stray fairy-like sprinkling of sparkly eyeshadow fell from her hair as she moved about. 

Giorno had finally gotten around to teaching her a few more braiding techniques. 

...Though she seemed to adore the intricate methods and patterns that Giorno had graced her with- ultimately, she’d insisted on having him do her hair the exact same as his.

In turn, she was rather generously doing his (and her own) makeup. 

Naturally, Giorno had no say on the matter. He was still washing off the glitter from it. Mista told him it was like sleeping with a disco ball. 

Unbeknownst to him at the time, Trish had captured this wonderful display in its full glory.

Jolyne, standing stark still for the first time since Giorno had met her- looking at Trish with a toothy grin, the makeup in her clutches long forgotten...

Giorno, bobby pins in his fingertips and in his mouth- far too concentrated to notice the snicker of delight as Trish captured the moment on her gloriously pink camera. 

Giorno couldn’t be too mad when he found out. He’d never had the chance to have anything close to a kid sister. 

Of course, he’d had Trish... But she’d never let him do her hair. 

“Ah, I must keep that in mind then.” He smiled. “Though I dare say he’ll be too busy to cause havoc any time soon. We’re heading off to the U.S. in a few days to try and track down my half-siblings. His idea, actually.” Giorno wasn’t sure what Dio’s reasoning was behind such a thing. Nor was he sure he fully wanted to know. 

Either way- it was a step of progress on the long road ahead.

Jotaro still looks like there’s something else he’s itching to say. His brows are furrowed and he looks like he’s about to punch the lovely vase on the mantel to his right. There’s a hesitance in the way he remains there- like he’s debating with himself whether he should go through with what he’s about to do.

He sighs, uttering out a weary ‘yare yare,’ before forking out the frankly ancient photograph that he’d shown Giorno the night they’d met. “Dio doesn’t fucking deserve shit- but I think my great-great-grandfather would want you both to have this. So...” 

Everything Jotaro did- it was for family. Even ones he didn’t have the chance to meet- like Jonathan. Even ones he vehemently disagreed with- like Giorno…

He was a truly strange man.

Giorno’s eyes widened in surprise, taking the photograph in his hands. Silently, he’d longed to see it again. He found the dichotomy of his two biological fathers interesting. 

Needless to say, the fact that he even had two biological fathers at all was interesting.

Jonathan Joestar. A man he’d never had the opportunity to meet. An unknowing catalyst for so many of the events that led up to Giorno’s life today... 

He saw glimpses of his goodwill in Dio’s book- but he’d never fully know what his other father was like. 

Well, unless he got resurrected as well. 

Ha.

Giorno shouldn’t joke about that. 

“Even after everything…” 

“-As I said, i’m not doing it for that bastard .” 

Giorno thinks there’s a part of Jonathan Joestar that shines through every one of his descendants. Perhaps that’s why he feels at peace knowing so little about his other father. This eternal heroic nature and borderline suicidal sense of justice- it was probably hereditary. 

“I’ve got nothing of equal value to give to you.” Giorno says, genuinely saddened by that factor. He meets Jotaro’s gaze with a tilted head. “... He’s upstairs if you want to get one more punch in?” Giorno offers, feeling like he ought to extend something in compensation.

Jotaro almost looks like he’s going to take him up on it too- before he stares down at Jolyne, still hanging onto him like a koala. “I’m fine.” He declined, “just tell him to eat shit and die for me.”

For some reason, the sentiment makes Giorno far too happy. “It would be my honour.”

 

“I’ll miss you, bro!” Josuke exclaimed from the other side of the room. He had Mista wrapped in a tight embrace that looked far too emotional to be conducted by two people that had only just met a few weeks ago.

“We have to stay in touch- you have my email, right?!” Mista asked, his voice choked with incredulous emotion.

“[email protected]?” Josuke sniffled. 

Mista laughs at his own choice of address before tearfully nodding. “I’ll be seeing you around, bro.”

“Bro…” 

“...You’ve been sending off work emails with a name like that?” Trish interjects the tearful goodbye with an admittedly valid question. 

She does, however, make the mistake of moving too close to the pair of them to ask it. She quickly gets pulled into the hug as well. Josuke and Mista were like a space vacuum that sucked everything into its orbit the moment it got too close- and Trish was certainly no exception. 

 

Giorno decided he’d keep his distance.

 

It didn’t work in the slightest.

 

“Get over here you little mafioso- you aren’t getting out of my famous Josuke hug!” 

 

With all four of them huddled together, Giorno feels like they’re a football team going over game tactics. 

He supposes, though, that it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. It’s warm and kind and so unalike to the world he grew up in. He could get used to it. 

“I’m totally coming back here with Okuyasu.” Josuke tells him with a grin- as if Giorno was supposed to know who in the world this ‘Okuyasu’ person was. 

Nevertheless, Giorno nods, finding that the concept of Josuke visiting him here every once in a while to be quite a pleasant thought indeed. “We’ll always have room for you.” 

The man was loud and rambunctious- a vehement optimist- a near polar opposite to Giorno. 

And yet there was an invisible connection there that didn’t wholeheartedly feel like it was due to the bloodline they shared. Josuke had a fierce love for his friends and family- it was what guided his decisions. Giorno is starting to understand what that drive felt like.

 

When Giorno is finally set free from the hug pile- he finds that the strange group of four (don’t tell Mista, he hadn’t noticed yet,) all gravitated back toward the foyer entrance. The end was coming- for now- and Giorno was almost sad to know he wouldn’t be seeing them all for a while.

One familiar face, though, seemed to be missing from their team.   

“I’d like to thank Signor Kishibe for his work on my father,” Giorno said, his eyes swept across the large entrance area in search of the well-dressed mangaka to no avail. “May I ask where he is?” 

Jotaro sighs, “we were all leaving and he made us go without him. He said that the best goodbyes weren’t goodbyes at all.”

For some reason, Jotaro doesn’t look as pissed about that factor as Giorno thought he would be. 

Interesting...

Josuke chimes in next. “ I personally think he just wanted to make sure his makeup was fly for the airport… Ha, get it? Fly for the airpor-” 

The sound of the door opening alerts them all to a presence. Giorno turns in anticipation of seeing Kishibe walking in through the front with all the bells and whistles of their first meeting. 

Instead, he is faced with someone else entirely. 

Dio saunters down the walkway with that usual confident air, knowingly aware of just what he was interrupting. Once a bitch, always a bitch. 

“Oh? You’re all leaving?” Dio clicks his tongue, “such a shame, really.” 

He couldn’t go five minutes without stirring the pot. 

Jotaro noticeably tenses.

“I thought I told you you should wait upstairs while I said goodbye to everyone?” Giorno says, the polite tone of his voice edged with a warning. 

“I, Dio, thought it would be far too rude of me not to farewell your most esteemed guests.” 

“Why does he talk like that?” Jolyne stage whispers the question to Jotaro. 

Cautiously shifting her behind his back, Jotaro replies, “because he’s an asshole.” 

Giorno couldn’t dispute that. Dio was an asshole. Especially so right now. 

But even despite that- there’s a familial fondness between the two of them that Giorno just can’t dispute. It was the most tentative of them all- it could barely stand on its own two legs… And yet there were times when Giorno thinks that, eventually, they could be like a normal family... 

And then he remembers that normal was never in his repertoire. 

The photograph in Giorno’s hands is evidence enough of that.

Wait…

Hmm...

Dio was an asshole. 

But so was he.

“Perhaps I do have a present to give to you.” Giorno says to Jotaro, a sly smile on his face. He looks over toward Dio. 

The present of dumbfounding one’s mortal enemy is a rare one.   

“Father? Look what we uncovered in our research...” 

Giorno doesn’t think that was technically a lie. 

Not that anyone was here to taste his sweat and dispute that. Not anymore.

“I simply could not care less about your puny little exploits with the idio-”

Giorno places the photograph in his hands.

 Dio goes silent. 

His eyes are wider than Giorno had ever seen them. Which was quite a simple feat, really. They were always narrowed into pretentious little slits- even when his guard was down. 

Whatever Dio had come here to do- whatever fuckery he had up his sleeve- It was all forgotten now. 

He stares at the photo with the most incomprehensible expression on his face. It truly was a nice photo. They almost looked amicable in it. Like they weren’t constantly at odds with one another. Like they were companions.

Giorno knew now that the case was a bit more complicated than that. 

Dio’s inferiority complex, his burning jealousy over Jonathan’s privilege, his terrible upbringing… They were all factors fuelling the damnation of anything close to a good relationship. Dio knew full well now that he’d long since squandered any opportunity of being his friend, of redeeming himself to Jojo. He’d been dead for decades now, after all.

Perhaps that’s what that expression meant. Giorno isn’t sure. He’d always been so good at reading people- but Dio still baffled him sometimes. 

“This was from the Summer he hit his growth spurt.” Dio says, his lips twitched into a deep frown. “That goody-two-shoes imbecile always had to one-up me... I used to be taller than him.” His grip on the photograph tightens, “I thought I’d catch up to him again but he just kept growing like a pompous old weed.”  

Then Dio does something that Giorno doesn’t expect in the slightest.

He sniffles. 

Giorno had expected rare, surprised silence. He’d expected a moment of mild vulnerability that Jotaro could smugly bask in for the rest of his days. Another thing to hold over his father’s egotistical head to help him sleep better at night.

Not this. 

Jotaro’s eyebrows go up to his hat and disappear into the dark abyss of his hairline. His expression moves to Giorno, his eyes asking the question of, ‘are you seeing this shit?’ 

Giorno, indeed, was seeing this shit.

These weren’t the crocodile tears of old- they weren’t borne out of trickery and deceit. They were genuine.  

Which made them all the more terrifying.

Giorno honestly had no idea what to do. He’d comforted his father before- but that felt far different to the current circumstance. 

God, now he really did feel like an asshole... 

Dio must quickly realise his situation because his head snaps up in horror. With the singular motion- every aspect of his expression had been masked once more. It was rather startling to see.

“I, Dio, will not miss any of you. At all.”
It’s a far more tame departure note than Giorno thought Dio had planned.

...So Giorno decided to call it a mission success.

Dio slithers back upstairs with all the grace and dignity that he always utilised. 

He takes the photograph with him without even asking. 

 

“...What the fuck just happened?” Josuke is staring at the spot that Dio had been standing in, blinking like he’d just hallucinated the whole thing. 

Giorno huffs out a laugh, “I think Dio misses him in some morally twisted way. My other father.” 

“I didn’t think he was capable of something so… human.” Trish notes. 

Jotaro, on the other hand, seemed to have gotten over his shock rather quickly. Dio and him were quite similar in some ways. 

Giorno would never tell either of them that. Not if he wanted to remain off of both of their shit lists.

“Hmm. Almost. Maybe in another one hundred years he’ll learn how to walk like a normal fucking person too.”

 

---

 

It’s raining again when they lift off the tarmac. 

Dio’s eyes are surreptitiously glued to the window, overlooking the disappearing buildings below them. 

It occurs to Giorno that, perhaps, this was the first time that Dio had been inside a plane.

Or, at the very least, this was the first time that he had seen out of one.

Giorno takes a breath, closing the Dostoyevsky novel he’d finally gotten a chance to finish.

“...May I ask you a question?” He pulls out the folder in his briefcase and begins nonchalantly flipping through the documents of every possible sibling that they’d tracked down so far. Giorno can see the resemblance in all of them. It’s jarring.

“It seems to be the only thing you ever do.” Dio retorted, not meeting his gaze. 

Giorno rolls his eyes but is undeterred by the lukewarm hostility.

“...Why didn’t you run away?” Giorno wasn’t one for sugarcoating things. “You’ve essentially been left to your own devices this entire time… You’ve regained nearly all of your strength- so why?”

Dio sighs, still looking through the window. He had a way of making even the most direct questions seem like an affront to his entire being. 

For a moment Giorno thinks he isn’t going to answer at all. It wouldn’t be the first time. But then, ever so silently, Dio turns further away from him and utters something with genuine, surprising honesty.

“You are the best of both of us… I wish to see you grow.” 

Giorno looks at his feet, unsure of how to answer. It was so gooey and sentimental that it made his hands all clammy. He could feel his eyes water. 

“...Though I do believe you are past the age of hoping to get any taller.” 

Ugh. Nevermind. 

“Father.” 

 

Giorno finds that that word doesn’t feel all that strange to him. 

Not anymore.

Notes:

Thank you all so much for reading! I adored writing every word :)

 

 

Notes:

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