Chapter Text
Giorno grew healthier by the day under Father's strict schedule and Bruno's supervision. The two older boys with him kept him company even during the breaks the adults were allowing them. Narrancia was always noisy about his fundamental dislike of mathematics, and Mista had a mysterious, and quite ridiculous in Giorno's opinion, fear of the number four: they could never run 4 laps, or eat 4 cannolis, or even speak the number four without the boy screaming in disgust.
"That's just silly, Mista. The number 4 has no incidence on the events." Giorno rolled his eyes at the tanned boy next to him, the shade of the tall olive tree they were resting under sheltering them from the burning blaze of the late afternoon sun. Mista glared at him when he heard the cursed word come out of the blonde's mouth, but frowned.
"No what? You talk funny sometimes, Gio."
Giorno rubbed a hand on his arm, shrugging lazily. Reading with Father gave him a clear advantage: he knew a vast amount of words for his age, words too complicated even for some grown-ups! He felt proud of himself for this feat, knowing Father was looking at him with the pride of well-invested time, although sometimes his two friends didn't understand him because he was too clever. It was a bother, but he figured they would learn complicated words soon too.
Mista was drinking from the small water bottle by his side, loudly gulping down and exhaling, the heat from the running and the weather making him sweat profusely.
"Anyway, you're not hot?" He wondered as he faced Giorno.
"No, it's okay. I made sure to calm my breathing when running." Mista pulled his tongue out, grunting. Giorno stared back at the well-maintained yard at the back of the villa. Bruno was no longer standing by the doors with his arms folded; he probably drove Narrancia back to his place. The child visibly had issues staying by the villa, whimpering about a bad aura.
"... Say, Gio." Mista spoke again, his dark eyes suddenly serious. "You never get scared here?"
"Scared? Of what?"
"Well... I've never been inside the house, but everything is always in the dark, there's never any light... And it's just very... I don't know, spooky."
Giorno stared at Mista, a surprise looked on his face. He shook his head, completely lost. Scared? The house was spooky? What in the world was he talking about?
"There's no light because there's no sun going inside. That way the house stays cool so it's easier to sleep at night." Giorno explained simply, matter-of-factly. "I don't understand why it's scary, there are lots of nice people inside, why would you be scared of them?"
"Nice people? They're nice to you... Last time, I tried to get in to go check the kitchen, y'know, to eat something, but the door was locked, and the old lady, Gloria I think, started yelling at me for coming inside without any supervision. She's real mean, and for nothing. And, I ended up not having anything to eat!"
Giorno shrugged. It had been established for a while there were definite times for meals, and Gloria, the one mostly responsible for the cooking, never allowed any snacking. Called it bad for growth. Giorno extended his hand to Mista, silently asking for the water bottle. Talking while recovering in the heat was making him thirsty. The other boy gave him the drink after pouring some water into his hand and splashing it on his face while Giorno drank carefully, taking his time.
"The people in the house take care of me when Father is too busy." He explained once the bottle was back on the floor. "They're nice to me, they take good care of me. Father wouldn't let it be otherwise."
Mista glanced at him for a moment, hesitant.
"Your father... I only saw him once or twice... He's a giant."
"He told me he ate all his soups when he was my age. Maybe it does work."
"Nah, he probably ate other people too to be that tall!"
Mista laughed, and Giorno let out a chuckle. It's true, Father was taller than anyone he had ever seen, or heard of. His own parents must have been giants as well. Mista gripped some of the grass on the soil, pulling it out and playing with some of the bits in his hand.
"Nah but really. If he's good to you, then good. But he definitely doesn't like me. Or Narrancia. Even Bruno, I'm sure. He looked at us like we were insects crawling on you."
Father had agreed to allow Giorno to have friends. He had accepted them in his gardens to be with his son, learning with him, training with him. Surely he was warmer to the 3 outsiders than Mista believed. His will was absolute after all, and he definitely didn't give it lightly.
"I think I saw a bird's nest nearby, come." It felt useless to linger on those thoughts, Giorno stood up and slowly walked to the opposite of the yard, Mista trailing after him, whimpering about the afternoon being too hot to linger under the sun.
The mansion woke up the moment the sun hid behind the faraway mountains, coloring the light stones in a blue hue. Giorno waved at the car, the small white Fiat driving away with a cloud of dust. With the end of the day came the end of the week, allowing Bruno and Mista to leave the huge house to take some rest and enjoy the weekend, a small vacation Father had granted them in a surprisingly kind moment. He had towered over Bruno, once again, dark brows furrowed in thought, and nodded while waving his hand, dismissing the foreigners lazily. Giorno didn't try to understand why a break was necessary for his friend and tutor: Father insisted on the fact they were different from them, that they were mere mortals with simple, mostly worthless needs and desires. Giorno and him, on the contrary, were of a higher standard, a higher breed. Greatness was not something they could achieve by taking 'breaks'.
It made sense why Father was the tallest, strongest, most intelligent man Giorno knew. He never stopped working for it. Always in his study, reading about poets and philosophers and inventors, politics and science, the man abhorred the idea of reaching an end to his quest for knowledge. Even now, as Giorno felt a warm breeze tousle his hair from where he was seated in the backyard reading his own encyclopedia, it was futile to wonder why Father hadn't greeted him yet. He was an extraordinary man tending to his great plans.
"I wonder what he's doing... What do you think?" The boy turned to a small frog sitting by his side, the beady eyes of the spongious creature blinking dumbly. "I wish I could know as many things as he does. Know all the names of all living things, know how to tend to them..." Green eyes met black, his small hand reaching to pet the animal gently, the slimy feel of the mucus sending shivers to the boy. "Or how to destroy them."
The frog emitted a small cry, as if nervously staring at Giorno, before a sea of shivers assaulted it, covering its ridiculous body in red buttons, the mucus drying almost immediately to let the bubonic ill spread. The frog didn't move or emitted any sound as blood poured out of the small pores of the skin. Giorno calmly observed the scene, his green eyes traveling over the body with scientific interest until they became bored and turned back to his volume.