Chapter Text
The week it took to claim control over Passione back in 2001 was hard. It would be cruel to merely call it a struggle. Giorno had grown in those few days. He had become stronger than before. He had done the unthinkable.
Find people he could trust. People who he loved and that loved him in turn. And for that he was grateful. For so long Giorno's heart had been empty of any human presence. Not by choice, but as a result of the abandonment and cruelty he endured as a child. For so long the person he trusted the most was a man in a photo. A dead man who he had never met. It was easier to imagine his late father as a kind protective figure that could shield him from those around him rather than to face the truth that he was alone in his world.
By the halfway point in the mission he had men who he could happily consider parental figures. An example of love without filters or venom. He had real friends who loved him for who he was. He had people who supported him.
And within the last 2 days, half of them were gone. Abbacchio's death was the most sincere pain he had ever felt. A searing knife plunged straight into his heart and wretched upwards towards his lungs, stripping him of breath.
Leone Abbacchio was not supposed to die. It didn't make sense to him. Abbacchio was indefinite. He couldn't die. He had such a strong presence that it took a moment before Giorno could properly register the gaping hole and heavy blood on the man's limp body. His eyes no longer shined. A sickly, lifeless gray overtook the eyes.
Sometimes those eyes still appear in Giorno's dreams.
When Abbacchio died he did not cry. Crying is useless and Giorno Giovanna hates useless things. Tears would not revive Abbacchio. Streaming salt would not replenish the blood he had lost nor the heart ripped from his chest.
When Narancia died it was much more sudden. He had been sitting right there beside them. He had to see his friend die in his own body. There was no purpose to Narancia's death. No catharsis, no sacrifice, no fulfilled purpose. He had been a boy full of plans for his own future. The next moment he became an ornament for Rome's sickly gates. Sometimes Giorno wakes up, body heavy, staring at the corner of his room, and unable to move, the vision of his broken, skewered body as clear as day.
Tears ran down his face but they were not his own.
Buccellati had died slowly. Senses dulling, warmth leaving, and presence leaking away. Bruno had made a great sacrifice. When he had watched the man ascend towards the skies, Giorno's eyes almost watered.
Now the time to fight had passed, and his friends along with it.
But they didn't.
Giorno didn't understand how or why, but he had managed to save them. Gold Experience had the power of life. It shouldn't have been able to bring someone back from the dead. It couldn't do that.
He couldn't make sense of it and at the same time refused to. There was no point in wasting a miracle. So he ignored it. His friends survived and that's what he accepted.
It's all the more easy to believe in that sweet lie than to wake up in the middle of the night, heart pounding with the fear that their resurrection had only been a dream.
So his friends joined him once more. They were just a little worse for the wear. Bruno was the worst off.
His sight had been failing during his last few days as well as his hearing. He could still see now. Just not well. Once they reunited Giorno had run them by Gold Experience and after that, a doctor. Bruno had been ruled legally blind as well as deaf. He could still see and hear, but both senses were greatly impaired and went out more often the not. His blue eyes often looked clouded. Sometimes he stumbled as well. Despite all this he was generally healthy.
Abbacchio hadn't healed perfectly either. While he didn't have any damage to his senses, it was much more difficult to breath. It was often painful and strained. Sometimes he could alleviate the pressure but the issue persisted. He had to sit down after only short periods of time and couldn't run as much as he used to be able to.
Now he helped guide Bruno when the man was having trouble.
Narancia's body was perfectly fine, as it was Giorno's that had been skewered. The only thing to come as consequence was the difficulty he had with waking up. No matter how tired or rested he was, he rarely woke up on his own. It took several people to wake him up in the mornings and the longer it took, the more fear filled his friends hearts. Beside that Narancia was fine. He was a little more wary of fences and gates and the Coliseum. But those weren't something he couldn't avoid.
He had survived and so had his friends.
Half a year into his reign, Fugo came back. He had almost died on the mission Giorno sent him on and had come back with scars by his mouth, and croaks in his voice. The capsule he bit had ripped apart his throat and face in the process. Giorno had healed him, of course. But the mended skin had not healed in full and neither had his speech. Fugo could speak. It was just difficult. When he spoke, his throat hurt. His voice was strained and scratchy, as if he hadn't spoken in years. He couldn't pronounce certain sounds for certain words either. So they worked around it. It was difficult, but ultimately unnecessary, so he stopped. Unlike in childhood, Fugo now had people who cared about him. His new family gladly took the time to learn to speak with him after the incident. While it took a while, he was now able to converse with them all via LIS. This helped Bruno as well. It was much easier to not speak. The only time he used his voice anymore was to laugh, cry, or make any other sound not covered by hand movements.
A year had passed since Fugo had returned and a lot had happened.
Over the course of a year Giorno had began to heal. The same was true for most of his friends as well. Trauma is something that sticks with you and molds who you are and who you will become. But it is not an end all be all.
Bruno and Abbacchio had finally found themselves together. It had only taken 3 year years and change of hopeless pining. Now they were formally dating, and with Giorno pulling Italy's strings, they could get married whenever they so choose.
Trish had become a pop star. Her tracks were all over the radio and her posters all over public transit. It had been an exciting development. To see a friend's rise to fame right beside you. She doesn't tour out of Italy. Not yet. Regardless of where she goes, Giorno had assigned her a few bodyguards. Trish was completely capable of taking care of herself. Spice Girls was also enough of a bodyguard. But Giorno just didn't want to take any chances.
Giorno had confessed to Fugo shortly after he returned. And it had only taken them another half a year to formally start a relationship. Mista had joked that they were almost as bad as Bruno and Abbacchio. It was new to Giorno. The whole 'having a relationship' thing. He was barely acquainted with trusting people platonically, let alone romantically. He had never been given a proper example of a healthy romance. His parents were no good at anything pertaining to love of any type. Perhaps it was best that he and Fugo had put off the romantic part of their relationship for so long.
Everything was new and frightening. Not in a bad way, but frightening in a hopeful, exhilarating way. He got to see parts of life he never thought he was allowed to.
The newest development was also frightening. But not in a good way. It was frightening in the most raw meaning of the word. In a way that strikes fear.
Sometime within the last few months, Giorno Giovanna had begun to develop an overwhelming craving for human blood.
It wasn't a gradual experience. He hadn't begun to hunger more as the days went by. One day he had woken up and the sun hurt just a little, he was having trouble tearing his gaze from people's necks, and when someone had cut their hand while cooking, well…
The revelation was new and unfamiliar. Gold Experience had appeared one day as well as his golden hair, but that was a positive change. Now Giorno felt unfocused, weaker, in danger and a danger.
It was fortunate for Giorno that he had so many good friends.
A list of symptoms was compiled as well as a timeline and the conclusion of vampire was easy to reach, especially with a new set of elongated canines and sharp nails.
Reactions were varied but what had really struck out was Polnareff's horrified stare.
They talked about it later. Jean had painfully confessed his journey in Egypt years ago. With every detail Giorno felt more and more weight added to his chest and lifted simultaneously. So many questions he never thought to ask were being answered, but at what cost? When Polnareff had said the name of the vampire he fought, something in Giorno had struck a chord.
He had immediate shed his wallet and handed it to Polnareff. The fear and wonder in his eyes was clear, as an understanding settled upon his face.
The following month was busy. In addition to the normal mafia routine, Giorno had to manage calls with Professor Kujo and check ups with Polnareff and various other members of the Speedwagon foundation. Eventually the man had found time to visit and meeting an estranged relative who was technically his great great nephew, as well as over a decade his senior was weird. Giorno got to know more than enough about the family he never had and the father he never knew.
They eventually came to an agreement. Giorno would track what developments there were in his 'condition' and Kujo would document what he could. If Giorno was ever deemed a threat, he would return and finish him off where he stood.
Because this inheritance was genetic, there was nothing he could do to stop it. Adjusting to it was the next best thing.
He could still eat human food. It would have upset him immensely if he wasn't able to have pudding anymore.
Now his strength and vitality depended on how much blood he drank. He technically wouldn't die without blood, but that didn't mean it wasn't excruciatingly painful. He had tried abstinence at first but it only worked for so long. The longer between meals, the more difficult it was for Giorno to control his impulses. So they made a menu.
At first he had tried animal blood. Theoretically, blood was the same regardless of species. At least for the parts that would benefit his body.
It was a short lived solution. There was none of the satisfaction that came with real drinking and done of the pleasant warmth that filled his body. It was barely edible and thus ruled out. Besides, he didn't really like the idea of conjuring up animals to steal from.
The second thing he tried was the blood of criminals. People who dared oppose his new rule were always dealt with in an orderly and swift manner. People that were dangerous to the public and a threat to themselves as well as others. It also served as a possible torture method if the time ever arose. The blood was better structured and smoother than the animal blood. But the anonymous men he drank from where just that. Anonymous. Many had poor health, others were addicts. Many were drug peddlers that indulged in their own product. That was something Giorno wasn't willing to try again.
The third idea was to use Gold Experience to transform things into meals, or rather, human limbs. It sounded like a good idea. The problem was that GE doesn't just make body parts. He regenerates them. He transforms a foreign substance into flesh that was no longer there. He could make arms and legs and human hearts. But when they were not attached they need code. Humans were more complex than animals, especially in DNA and consciousness. While he could just create any animal, humans had very specific code and minds of their own. He could only create human components if they were based off of preexisting DNA. That means he would create a matching limb for someone who doesn't need it, and then drain it dry. But the whole process just felt wrong. These were theoretically limbs of his friends. If he copied anyone else's DNA, it would be a repeat of the criminals. It felt cruel to hold the arm of his friend in his own hands, just waiting to drink it dry. So he didn't.
The solution they finally landed on was that Giorno's closest friends would offer their own blood when the time came. Not in a fatal way of course. Just enough to sustain him until the next week. They rotated so each would have enough time to replenish what they had lost.
So each week, Giorno would join a friend of his for a weekly meal.
He really was lucky to have such kind friends.