Chapter Text
The water was relaxed this season, the at times violent and ever treacherous seas now replaced by a calm nearly serene bleu hue. The deep blue mixing with the piercing light of the sun, the color exploding around droplets of water were flung up into the air as the water lapped at the side of the boat
A drop was heard as the hook of a fishing rod landed in the water, swiftly sinking into the sea as it dragged the bait with it. The man let the bait drop to a comfortable depth, swiftly stopping it at the perfect area, an action that was nearly automatic for him at this point
Seconds passed as he waited, his smooth hands seeming frozen in time as his mind focused on the sound of the water. He was very adept at the activity, being able to listen closely to the water, any small disturbance in the waves being picked up by his ears. Minutes passed as he focused, time flowing into itself as he kept his focus. Eventually he heard what he waited for, it began with a soft small movement, he knew it as the attention of a creature firmly planted on something irresistible.
Then came the true waiting game. There was no way for the man to be able to tell where the fish was based on the water, unless he mounted a camera to the fishing line. So you could only wait, wait for the creature to strike, you could only wait and hope to catch the fish at the exact right time
It came almost imperceptibly fast, a strike that pulled hard on the rod. However the man had correctly guessed the attack, promptly meaning the creature in an even stronger pull. However the man was cheating, he was aided by a new set of arms, these distinctly non-human, sporting a golden hue and two golden lady bug brooches that adorned the arms.
All arms pulled at the rod, easily swinging the fish into the air, and into the welcoming arms of the golden creature
Or as he was known to the man, Gold Experience
The stand emitted soft waves of gold, easily calming down the fish as he softly placed it into the man's cooler. After this Gold disappeared, the air floating with small gold hues as it was blown into the air
“Thank you Gold” Giorno whispered to no one in particular
Calmly he began to pack up his equipment, his fishing rod and other essential equipment finding their home in their designated places. Giorno had made it a point to stick to the routines he had laid out when he was out on the sea, both as a sign of respect to the nature around him and as a way to calm himself
After this he began heading back to shore, softly guiding the boat to its home in the marina. This was the part he needed to be extra careful with, after all he did not own the boat
Yet this was never a problem for him, the boat was calmly yet swiftly guiding alongside the dock, then fastened to the wooden dock with ropes, the knots being quickly tied thanks to a little push from Gold. Softly he stretched out his back, small pops sounding from the inside of his frame as he breathed in the summer air, relaxing his body as he looked out onto the marina
Giorno always adored the peace and tranquility the water could bring, the wolf nature of it all. It was such a stark difference from what actually housed itself in the crevices of the city, the true rotten and dark nature of the place, it was disgusting. Yet here he was a tendril of the very beast he so loathed, wanting to grab at the peace he saw. However the beast was every hungry, and he had his role to play
Quickly he went and placed the cooler into the boat, the fish finding a secure home in the ice and cool temperature of his small cooler, it would be perfect for his dinner.
Then after that was settled he walked over to a small cafe. It lay around 10 minutes away from where he docked. He had of course already been here once before, after all it was his job. As always he ordered a Panna Cotta with earl grey tea, he always had a sweet tooth and this cafe did really know how to make tea he liked
However of course this was not the true reason he was here, this order signified that he was ready for a pick up, one that he did every day. It only took a few minutes for his order to arrive, swiftly after that a man came and sat down on the table. The man wore his usual attire when he met Giorno, a simple yet comfortable button up with a shirt underneath, and a pair of shorts. Giorno for his part wore a thick, pink woolen sweater with a pair of loose fitting jeans, this of course being paired with fishing overalls and a pair of gloves he had placed on the table. These simple outfits allowed both of them to effectively fit in to their roles, Giorno being out at sea and the other man holding over some shipping company.
Both of them looked like the normal people one would see on the streets, people who you would not look twice at. As of recent that part of their job was in focus
“Here is today's shipment” The man said simply as he handed Giorno a clipboard with a piece of paper on it. On the paper was written in simple terms
4 Shipments of Northern pikes
2 Shipments of Bluefin Tuna
1 Shipment of Seabass
Giorno sat and stared at the paper for a while, analyzing each and every word on the material. Slowly he took a bite of the fluffy panna cotta, the normally sweet sensation instead replaced by one of disgust and bitterness, his mouth quickly turning sour.
He had worked for them for around 2 years, and yet in that time he had never gotten a shipment of “Seabass” before, to him it was something he did not want to do. Yet it was his job
Slowly he sipped his tea, focusing on the text at the bottom
The shipment shall be left in the usual spot, caution is not needed
Giorno sighed as he put down the clipboard, swiftly handing it over to the man next to him
“We deal in Seabass,” Giorno said. Both of the men knew that this was no question, since to question orders was to question the entire organization. Instead this was a mere statement of fact, as asinine as proclaiming that snow was cold. It was simple, it was a shipment of seabass
The other man nodded simply, looking over to the water as he sipped from his coffee
“Times are changing kid” The man spoke with a deep voice
Giorno did not know the man, yet they had built a sort of weary work relationship. The man had worked there for many more years then Giorno, so he was deeply familiar with the operations and politics of the people in Passione, one fraught with instability and immorality
“There has been a lot of strife” The man said simply “One of the higher ups disagreed with the CEO”
Giorno and this man had similarly made up words that they associated with different key figures. They both worked for Passione and had decided that higher ups meant capos and CEO meant the boss. This really caught Giorno off guard, and also brought up a great deal of worry
“Hmmm that's unusual” Giorno said as he once again sipped his tea, the warm drinking quickly growing cold “Which one, and does he still smoke?”
“It was the nice one” The man said as he again sipped his coffee “And i'm not sure if he does smoke or not, information has been hard to come by regarding that”
The smoke question was a simple way to ask if they were alive, and apparently the man had no idea, which in and of itself was worrying. However, what was worse was the first comment. Everyone in Passione knew that there was only one nice Capo, and worse he held over the lands Giorno operated in, if he were to be killed and replaced then stuff would surely worsen after all, everyone agreed that Bruno Bucciratti was a good leader, and he would be nearly irreplaceable
“Well alright then” Giorno said as he finished his tea “I'll get it done”
All to quickly he found himself back on the boat, the list repeating itself in his head like a mantra ‘4 Northern pikes, 2 BlueFin Tuna, 1 Seabass, Caution is not needed
In truth caution was never needed in his line of work, if he so wished he could throw them around to his heart's content. The only thing that stopped him from that was his own respect for the fallen, and more importantly his own cleanliness in the small boat. However what the line truly warned for was whether or not the shipment would be live or dead. so ‘Caution is not needed in reality stood for, the person is dead
Swiftly he started up the boat, the engines pushing the boat out of the docks, electric power pushing the small but refined vessel out of port and into the waters once more. This time however he did not follow the path out to sea, instead he held close to the shore. Buildings and roads passed him as he made his way towards his destination.
Frankly Giorno had no idea why the name Northern Pike was chosen, yet frankly he was not curious, since it truly was not his place to inquire. All he knew was that 4 shipments of Northern Pike meant 4 black bags
4 bags containing the corpses of 4 men
Eventually he reached his destination. It was a small space of water that ran next to a brick building. Around 5 meters above the water lay a protrusion in the building, passersby always assumed it to be some sort of ventilation, a chute so fresh air could flow into the brick building. Yet Giorno knew better, it was a funnel for the shipments.
Similarly Bluefin Tuna was a strange name, it held the same motif yet held no apparent meaning, except possibly some crudish childish joke that Giorno certainly did not want to repeat. Yet he knew what it meant, so it served its purpose. He knew that 2 shipments of Bluefin Tuna meant 2 black bags
2 bags containing the corpses of 2 women
Swiftly he opened the small sunroof to his boat, placing down a few pillows and towels on the floor. After this he went out back on the boat, his eyes scanning the surrounding area to make sure that no eyes were on him. However Giorno was nothing if not careful, so he also used Gold Experience to sense life forms around him, and luckily it seemed safe. So Giorno clapped hard on the side of the boat three times, three hard and exact claps on the wooden side of the boat. That was the cue for delivery
Giorno had spoken with others in his line of work, even those who had worked before him. They ranged from everything between an old morally bankrupt senior who needed the money to murderers, and all of them agreed on the same thing. Seabass was never something you wanted to dispose of
Seabass were fish that could be found in big schools, swimming together fairly close to the shore of any given sea
The tumbling came swiftly after his knocks, the first four bags coming in hard as they all landed on the pillows Giorno had put out. Quickly he moved them to the side, not wanting the bags to land onto each other, less something break, or worse, spill
Sea bass too are fairly small, definitely smaller than the other shipments. That especially makes it highly unusual in Giorno's line of work, since they aren't known to kill seabass. At least not before
Then came the other two, their size was very similar to that of the four men, since they all used the same bag. However they were fairly lighter and easier to move around. Similarity to the others he placed them in line, setting them up in the most decent way he cold imagine
Passione dealt in human lives as one would deal with bad produce, yet in Giorno's mind there had always been a line. You do your business outside of the general populace, and try to minimize damage. You stay in your lane so to speak. However now it seemed that the lines were being blurred, and Giorno certainly did not appreciate that fact
Last came the “Trout” they had used the same bag as with anyone else, however because of the small size of the victim it meant that most of the bag was empty, the smaller body inside having a lot more room to simply flop about Giorno picked him up, his hands shaking slightly as he laid the figure down as gracefully as he could.
He stood then and simply looked down at the bag for a long while. The weight told him that this was either a heavily malnourished 15 year old, or, more likely based on the height, a 12 year old. Giorno was not easily shaken, frankly he did not feel much for anyone half the time, his days spent underneath cold and blood soaked covers sat this in stone. However now he felt anger, an anger that boiled inside his heart like lava. bubbling in molten heat.
He had always wanted to become a gangster ever since he had saved the man in the alleyway, yet this side of the business frankly disgusted him. Recently Passione had been diversifying its operations, to begin with it began expanding more into different shipping its products, mainly by mixing it in with more commercial shipments. This Giorno agreed was a smart move, and frankly he was fairly impressed. However they had also diversified their customer base, something Giorno had seen with his own eyes. Gangsters would go up to kids, then they would give them a free sample of whatever they had on hand, not much of course, just enough to where it would be addictive.
This did not work all the time of course, some people saw through it and just threw it away, others most likely used it and managed not to fall into the spiral. However some fell, and fast, some would be spotted only hours later, walking around the very same spot they had met the man. Others would be slowly seen, maybe looking down an alleyway or two as they passed. Yet the result was the same, they would begin buying
Kids, unknowing kids, ruining their lives for the simple chemical pleasure
Giorno got up, carefully stepping around the bodies as he reached the controls of the boat, swiftly getting everything in order before pulling out. Giorno had always fought to be free in his life, even living underneath the rotten roof of his waste of air parents he had always tried to find any freedom that he could. Yet through his life he always remained a slave to routine, it had always helped him make sense of the life he lived, it was security in a unsecure world, it was safety in an unsafe world.
However now as he walked through his routine it felt rotten. Giorno parked the boat at a hidden spot near the coast, swiftly he dragged one of the bags at the end of the boat, tilting it over as he opened the bag. He had done this nearly hundreds of times, letting the corpses of anyone fall into the abyss of the blue sea. With every move he felt himself growing more disgusted with himself, of his own actions, of his very own soul. Yet he did not stop, he did as he always did, open the zipper, push them out until their head and shoulders were out, then tilt them and watch them sink down into the abyss
Giorno continued like this, he worked nearly in a daze, his eyes glazed over as he just worked. As always he was a coward, a man without a spine, a worthless rat. Just like his stepfather had said
Eyes
Eyes stared back up at him
Eyes bloodshot and red
Eyes that once held life, vibrant and colorful
Eyes that belonged to a mother, a mother who would shriek and wail
Eyes that belonged to a family who would never see their son again
Giorno laid his hand on the boy's chest, a golden glow starting to leak from his hand, Gold Experience making himself known. He knew he could not bring the boy back to life, in fact he really had no hope of it. Instead he wanted to bring peace to the boy, anything to help sooth his restless soul
He started pouring his energy into the lifeless body, the golden hue surrounding him as his features began to come back to him, his previously gaunt cheeks returning to the fullness of youth as his eyes closed themselves in blissful peace
He continued
The energy flowed into the corpse of the boy, slowly it began developing his features. His once youthful face hardened slightly, small amount of facial hairs began making themselves known, he continued puring life into him, hoping that what he gave would be enough
He continued
The energy poured from Gold like a tidal wave, the body underneath reacting to it as it grew and changed, slowly running through its life. Creatures from gold's energy were easy enough to create, subatomic structure and waves of life weaving themselves together like a tapestry. However he was supremely inexperienced in human creations, the size and added complexity sapping his energy faster than usual. In fact the body had barely passed its 40s by the time he began to feel drained, yet he was nothing if not stubborn
He continued
Dark spots swam in his vision as he continued, the effort of it all causing burning pain to flare throughout his arm, the pain spreading all the way up to his shoulder. However he still stared at the corpse, his focus overtaking him, not allowing him to stop until he righted the wrong of the boys death, in any possible way he could
He pressed on and on, pain blooming inside his skull, feeling as if a ball was ringing in his head, the vibrations of metal causing the inside of his skull to shake. His chest too began to hurt, his heart hammering on and on as it worked to sustain his effort, his lungs to be abused as he dragged in and out air within mere moments. It all hurt, pain flaring up as if it were a fire, spreading its destructive will over a landscape of burning fauna
Yet for Giorno it did not matter, his life or comfort was of no concern, it truly never was. Instead he pushed on, the burning of his very entity barely registering. Instead a chant rang in his head, it amplified itself in his head, the echoes of which pressed itself throughout his very being. It rang truthful and simply “Go on, don't let go”
Eventually however he realized that what his hand gripped was no longer the corpse of another. Instead what was in front of him was nothing more than dirt and bone, his energy fully decomposing the body which at one time lay in front of him. It was so advanced that there was no blood or even any identifiable remains left. Only the very structure which once held up the body of a human remained, the last evidence of the existence of the boy
Slowly Giorno sat himself up, his entire system relaxing as the effort was stopped. His breaths remained ragged for several seconds, slowly relaxing until it managed to fall into a comfortable rhythm
When he had dragged his body from exhaustion he looked over at the spot where he had laid out the boy. In his stead was his bones, the white of the skeleton structure laying like forgotten porcelain, the color striking out in the mound of dirt it called home
Giorno sat, watching the product of his creation, of his attempt at peace for the young man. While the boy had died horribly, most likely beaten to death by whomever sold him the product. While he must have lived his last days in horrible paranoia as the drugs spread throughout his head. While he most likely lived in poverty driven to escape by the very home he was supposed to trust. Despite all this Giorno believed that at least his soul would be able to find peace
If not in life
then at the very least in death
The key to his apartment door snagged itself in the lock a few times, the old metal of the lock protesting along the way. Eventually however it went in, the lock grinding open and allowing him entry. Giorno's apartment was certainly nothing special, it was a very small apartment, only a one bedroom. Yet for Giorno it was enough. The apartment consisted of a hallway where he stood now, to his left was the bedroom and to his left the bathroom. The bedroom was decorated with plants and other greenery, a bookshelf too making itself known across one of the walls. The bathroom consisted of the basics, a shower, toilet and a sink.
The rest of the apartment was the kitchen and living room area, those parts lay together in a big open room, the parts only being separated by a small kitchen island. This area was similar in theme to his bedroom, plants and wildlife decorating any fitting area, the greenery spreading itself over his apartment like a coexisting entity. It was in truth everything Giorno could want for a living space, and he had been damn lucky in getting it, both from his own work and determination, and some “luck”.
When Giorno had moved to Italy his mother had wanted to throw him into school the second they had landed, however he was still too young. So she had lied about his age, getting him placed in primary school at the age of 5 instead of the others who were 6. Eventually of course this was discovered, he remembered how the teachers yelled at him for what felt like hours, screaming a song about how one should not lie. Yet nothing was changed, he just continued going to school in the age group he had been placed in.
The older he got the more clear his situation became to him, he quickly realized that he had to move out as soon as he could. So he spent every hour he could at school, most days even stopping at the library for an hour or two. He despised what was considered his “home”, every part felt as if it was tailored made to offend every part of his psyche. Everything from the rotting walls to the night time creatures that roamed the filth, it tore away at his patience and happiness.
However the worst of it was his own parents. He rarely saw his mother since she constantly went out, leaving early in the day and returning late, most days they would not even see each other for weeks on end. Yet whenever they did appear in the same room it was always the same, they lived as if the other simply was not there. His step father however was worse, the man seemed to despise even the footfalls of Giorno, seeming to explode at even the smallest provocation.
He lived in that house for years more, always continuing to try to get some positive feedback from his parents, anything that could tell him that he was loved, cared for or that he in any way mattered. However the breaking point came when Giorno was 11. It started easily enough, a cough or two and a runny nose, but then it got worse. This was very unusual since Giorno almost never got sick, his immune system almost seeming superhuman at times. Yet now it was as if all his days of good health had come to bite him. This coupled together with his already frail stature meant that he was confined to his bed for nearly 2 weeks, his body running in delirium as he tried to make sense of what was happening
Throughout those hellish days he remembered the sneers from his parents, his moms usually lack of appearances really hitting home for the child. He would curl up on himself late into the night, crying into the mattress as his symptoms got worse and worse. His step father remained his usual self, swinging around his strength on a child and generally terrorizing the house. So most days Giorno would only be found in his room, laying shivering in his bed for hours, his head hurting to the point where he felt as if something was growing out of it. Its vines slowly shattering the inside of his skull as it grew, feeding of whatever remained in Giorno
It hurt so bad, the pain ever reaching. Some days he couldn't even make sense of the directions in his room, his mind so lost to the dizzying pain that basic human instinct fell short. It came to a point where he could not even feel the blows from his step fathers boot, the hard material that would usually produce screams and torture not gave nothing, not a sound escaped Giorno
So he was left to rot. For the last two days of his sickness his door was fully closed, they had well and truly left him to die, and Giorno fully believed he was gonna die here, taking in his last breath at the age of eleven, laying alone and forgotten on the floor. Yet though the days a new kind of haze slowly made itself known to him, he felt it as a warm feeling, the feeling one would get from a hug, a warm sensation that could melt glaciers.
That day Haruno truly died. The once black hair was instead replaced by curly golden strands. Dull eyes replaced by a shining green. A rotten dying boy replaced with a man of life and shining justice. After that day, Haruno was Giorno. Slowly life took a better course for him, he began becoming more assertive, putting himself in the space he deserves.
Then one year after his sickness he saved someone, technically he hadn't really done much, he had simply lied to some men who were after him. Yet this seemed to be enough since the man he saved began to help Giorno, never directly, but still help.
Giorno had rarely if ever seen kindness in his life, only ever being used to the ever present evil festering in humanity. However this man, this gangster, this murderer, it was him who showed the young man kindness, he opened up Giorno's heart. One day as Giorno was walking home he was the gangster once more, he stood as usual far away, his frame present but distant. It was here that Giorno realized the way to change, the way to bring about peace and prosperity for his home. The boy swore that day that he would repay the favor that his hero had given him
His hero had saved him
So Giorno would do whatever he could to save as many people as he could
The years passed after that, each day blending into the next. For Giorno this time was very well spent, nearly every waking hour was spent either studying or scouting. Over the months he learned as much as he could about the mafia, while simultaneously always staying out of arm's reach
Eventually too he joined the organization, establishing himself as a fairly trusted albeit careful member. He had on purpose hidden away his stand, keeping it as an ace in his sleeve. Giorno had planned to do everything else slowly, maybe to build a slow group underground over the space of years, planning and preparing. Yet now his anger prevented that. He knew what path he must take
He knew the war path now lay in front of him
Decorated with red roses and the smell of death