Chapter Text
Holy shit.
That was how Mista would define the situation he and the gang currently found themselves in on the San Giorgio Maggiore island in Venezia. One minute he had been fighting with Narancia over a box of chocolates, the little shit had somehow shoved everything into his mouth without even sharing and Mista was not about to have it.
The next moment, Giorno was saying something and running into the chapel where Bucciarati had taken Trish to deliver her to the Boss, everyone else following Abbacchio in trailing the blond for whatever reason.
And now they were all here, standing outside the chapel and at the dock, Bucciarati laying an unconscious Trish in the boat after both having been healed of some pretty concerning injuries courtesy of Giorno.
“What the hell is going on, Bucciarati?! Why is Trish back here? What happened before we arrived in there?”
Abbacchio had been drilling the capo with questions ever since they stepped foot out of the chapel, out of any potentially dangerous range. Bucciarati had kept silence, making sure they had reached the boat first before saying anything, as well as making sure Trish was in a relatively safer place.
“Right,” Bruno spoke out, turning back to the rest of the team, “I’ll just come out and say it.”
Say what? Mista wasn’t sure what was happening anymore, and from the way everyone else looked, neither did they.
“I have brought Trish back with me because...I betrayed the Boss.”
Tense silence. No-one spoke for what felt like hours, in reality being mere seconds. Fugo was the first to speak up eventually.
“You...you what?”
“The Boss...he had a motive to kill Trish. I couldn’t allow that, it just...it didn’t make any sense,” Bucciarati had told the rest, different levels of shock on each person’s face. Mista couldn’t say the same for Giorno, however. The blond seemed...distant? Like he was deep in thought, not focusing much on the fact that Bucciarati and Trish had nearly died in the chapel, even after healing whatever injuries they had.
“So, what do we do now, Bucciarati? It’s not like we can go back in there, right?”
Bruno turned in the direction of Giorno after Narancia had voiced his question, the two sharing a knowing look. It made Mista feel just a bit uneasy, like they both had a secret that the rest of the team wasn’t aware of, one that they had no intention of letting anyone else know.
Not until now, at least.
“It’s straightforward, really. From this point onwards, if you so choose to follow me on this journey, you shall equally become traitors. This is entirely up to you, I will have no hand whatsoever in your decision making.”
Shit, this couldn’t be happening. There had to be some sort of underlying reason for this, right? Mista knew Bucciarati, he wouldn’t just make a decision right off the bat without some deeper reason for it, and it would be especially nice to know what that reason was.
As if reading the gunman’s thoughts, Giorno spoke up, “Bucciarati, perhaps it would be good to explain everything. Some people might want to follow you. After all, we need people on our side.”
It was so fast that Mista wasn’t able to intervene quick enough, Abbacchio suddenly grabbing the blond by the lapels of his suit and threateningly pulling him closer.
“‘We’? You bastard, I knew you had something to do with this! You’ve been bad news ever since you stepped foot into Libeccio-”
“Abbacchio!” Bruno bellowed, sending the older man a glare. Abbacchio chose not to look his way, rather letting out a growl before pushing Giorno away, the blond managing to stay on his feet despite stumbling a bit.
“Bucciarati...we need more details. This entire ordeal seems so vague!” Fugo spoke up, clearly distressed by the whole situation, and honestly, Mista agreed.
Betraying the boss of Passione? Mista trusted Bucciarati with his life, but this...this was something else.
“Because of the family ties they share, the boss must’ve thought Trish would have a way of figuring out his identity, which is likely why he wanted to eliminate her. I couldn’t just allow it-”
“But betraying the boss?! With all due respect, Bucciarati, this has to be one of the worst ideas you’ve ever come up with.”
The air grew even tenser as Bucciarati narrowed his eyes at Fugo, the latter seemingly rooted in his opinion. “Oh? And why is that?”
“Think about it,” Fugo began, adopting a somewhat softer tone, not wanting to create any bad relations with his capo, “this doesn’t seem so different from all the other missions that we’ve been given, whether it’s by Polpo or any other superiors we had in those days. I understand where you’re coming from, in terms of saving Trish, but to betray the boss who had nearly killed the both of you just now? It’s madness!”
“And what do you suggest we do, Fugo?” Bucciarati asked, no trace of sarcasm in his voice. He was genuinely considering other options. From the corner of his eye, Mista could make out the form of Giorno, shifting in his position, looking somewhat uncomfortable. What’s the deal with him? Is he alright? Mista would make sure to ask him later, long after this whole situation was done and over with.
“This may seem like an asshole move but...we leave Trish alone.”
Narancia gasped from where he stood, clearly shocked by the suggestion. “Are you crazy?!”
“It sounds bad, but listen! Bucciarati, you’ve already managed to get her out of the chapel. It’s not like the boss would come out in the open and try to kill her, wanting to preserve his identity and everything. We could just take her somewhere and keep her there, maybe an orphanage or a hospital or even a hotel. We can even leave her with some stuff, so when she wakes up she’ll try to find her own way out of Italy if she wants.”
“Why can’t she just come with us?!” Narancia yelled, moving closer to the strawberry-blond.
“Because if she’s around us, there’s a very high chance it’ll attract the unwanted attention of the boss again. We nearly lost both Trish and Bucciarati in this mess, would it really be wise to tick him off again?”
But it would be better to stick together! Mista wanted to yell, but for some reason didn’t, still unsure of how things were playing out. On one hand, Bucciarati had done the right thing saving Trish, but betraying the boss seemed quite scary considering several things. On the other hand, Fugo’s suggestion seemed quite unfair, but in a way it made sense.
What if the boss decided to come for them again and this time none of them make it out alive?
Mista snapped out of his thoughts as he heard a long hum from Bucciarati, the latter seeming to be deep in thought as well. Fugo took this as a chance to keep trying to convince the other man.
“Would it really be worth it to risk our lives like this? Over a girl we’ve barely known for a week? All the years that you’ve been involved in Passione, all the years that I’ve known you, and all other missions that we’ve been through, are we just gonna let this one situation cause a rebellion that could end our lives just like that? We’ve come close to death several times already, with the Assassin Squad on our necks and even before this entire mission started, but this...this would practically seal our deaths, Bucciarati. Would it really be worth it?”
Bucciarati seemed like he was about to speak, but stopped midway, looking deeper in thought. Was he about to change his mind? Were they no longer about to betray the boss?
“Bucciarati, please,” Giorno suddenly spoke up, a semblance of mild panic in his voice, similar to what Mista had heard during their earlier fight with one of the members of the Assassin Squad. “There’s not much time to waste, we have to get out of here quickly-”
“And YOU Giorno!” Fugo suddenly yelled out as he pointed an accusing finger at the other blond, Mista slightly flinching at the volume of his voice. “I don’t know what your deal is with this entire situation, but you have to think reasonably as well. It doesn’t seem like you’re going to change your mind any time soon, but I want you to think carefully nonetheless. I’ll admit, I admire your courage and skill, you’ve saved my life before, but this is different. Whatever intentions you have with betraying the boss, think of your life first. Would it all be worth it?”
Giorno betrayed no hint of reconsidering his stance on the matter, perhaps he really is going through with this.
“Well…” Bruno spoke after a long while, all eyes turned to him for his verdict.
“Please, Bucciarati, we’re still so young. There’s so much more we can do, so much more waiting for us, so many undiscovered opportunities out there, but we’re not gonna be able to experience them if we end up being dead. We’ve done all we can for Trish, including saving her just now, but...this isn’t our battle to fight, and it doesn’t have to become ours.”
Fugo seemed to have nothing else to say, his final plea to the capo rendering everyone silent yet again. Abbacchio huffed from where he stood, clearly not wanting to be in such an annoyingly compromising situation. Narancia still looked quite shaken, perhaps the thought of betraying someone so powerful, rank and Stand wise, being so frightening to him that he didn’t know what to do.
Mista was admittedly confused as well. Everyone seemed to be indecisive. Well, everyone except Giorno and Fugo, who each had opposing stances.
Bucciarati let out a sigh and turned to look at Trish, who was laying peacefully back in the boat, taking note of the zipper he had conjured to put her wrist back in place back in the chapel before Giorno had arrived to heal them.
The wrist still looked fairly bad, bits of blood dripping out every now and then and into the water below. Bucciarati felt somewhat solemn at the whole situation. The girl had been dragged into this mess against her will all because of a father she hadn’t been aware of, and just when she had thought she would reconcile peacefully with her father, even after expressing her fears to the capo, she had been proven wrong in the worst way possible.
Bucciarati truly felt sorry for her, but as he watched the blood drip into the water, he couldn’t help but imagine the blood of his teammates dribbling out as well, drops turning into pools and puddles till there would be none left to shed, leaving empty husks of once lively human beings.
The thought of his team and Trish dying mercilessly at the hands of his boss left him shuddering inwardly, and as much as it pained him, he knew what he had to do.
“...you’re right.”
“Bucciarati!” Giorno exclaimed at the capo’s words, the panic in his voice seeming to increase.
“Giorno,” the black-haired man started as he turned to the blond, “as much as it pains me, Fugo’s right about this. Betraying the boss would not exactly be...the smartest thing to do right now. Our lives have been in more danger than necessary these past few days, and provoking the boss even more by turning against him would prove to be detrimental to all of us, you included.”
“But your act of defiance has already been set in motion by bringing Trish out of there! We don’t know for sure if the boss is still in there or if he has already escaped, but as far as he knows, you’re likely a traitor in his eyes!”
“That may be true, but he is also the boss, meaning he’s likely to have eyes and ears everywhere, places we may not even be aware of,” Bucciarati spoke as he took little steps away from the boat, the entire gang watching keenly. “If we go with Fugo’s plan, the boss may be tricked into thinking we have completely abandoned Trish and would probably conclude that we’re not betraying him any longer. We would be safer that way.”
“...how sure can you be about that? What’s the assurance that the boss won’t come for you even after leaving Trish behind?”
“It’s a far safer option than going against the boss knowing fully well that he’ll come after us in that case!” Fugo suddenly butt-in, Mista watching as Giorno sent a side glare in return.
The whole situation did nothing but confuse the gunman even more. Bruno seemed to have made a decision, but he couldn’t say the same for Abbacchio or Narancia, and even more importantly, himself.
“That’s enough,” Bucciarati spoke up once again as if sensing the alarming tension, “I seem to have come to a conclusion.”
Mista, alongside everyone else, watched as Bucciarati turned to look at Trish once more, the brunet swearing he could hear his capo mutter something under his breath, along the lines of ‘forgive me’. Mista felt his eyes widen as he watched the man climb up the short steps and a good distance away from the boat, noting the way Fugo had also walked to his side, an expression on his face that seemed to say ‘you did the right thing’.
But did he? Did Bucciarati really do the right thing? Was Mista about to do the right thing? What was the right thing to do?
Abbacchio’s voice broke Mista out of his train of thought once again, “Bucciarati...you’re a crazy man, I’ll give you that. But...you already know how much I trust your decisions. Besides,” the silver-haired man walked up to where the capo stood, a small shuffle in his steps, “there’s no-one else I’d rather face this stupid world with.”
Mista watched as Bucciarati’s face softened a bit, clearly touched by the other’s words. That only left he and Narancia now.
“Bucciarati, you’ve helped me so much more than I could ever imagine. I owe everything to you...and Fugo, I guess.”
Fugo let out a ‘hey!’ as Narancia blazed to where the others were, clearly not about to leave the man he practically saw as his hero. Which meant Mista was the only one left.
Shit.
“Mista,” Fugo called out, his voice carrying a tinge of empathy, “what are you gonna do?”
Mista turned to look at both sides of the scenario, Giorno standing all alone near the boat that held Trish, and the opposite side with most of his team, with him, unfortunately, stuck in the middle. He hated that he had to choose, picking things weren’t always fun, and this seemed to be the worst-case he had to make a choice.
This could make or break so many things. His life was also, considerably, on the line.
“Mista.”
The gunman turned to face whoever had just called him, meeting the pleading eyes of Giorno himself. The blond didn’t say anything more than that, but his eyes and his body language seemed to say it all.
Mista found it cruel. Not long ago, the two had been in a very intense battle that could have admittedly killed them. But despite that, they had both helped each other out. Mista had helped Giorno to see that no man got left behind, and ensured him that they would both make it out of the situation alive, together. Giorno had helped the gunman to learn more about resolve, just when the latter was ready to throw all caution to the wind and probably die for the sake of retrieving the OA-disc.
Mista had even acknowledged that despite knowing each other for a few days, Giorno had been more of a capo to him than Bucciarati, which said quite a lot. The two had created a bond and gotten quite close, establishing a unique sense of trust that didn’t seem to run with the way the rest of the team trusted each other. It was... different, Mista didn’t know how to explain it, but it just was. It meant a lot to Mista, and it likely meant something to Giorno as well, considering how closed-off he seemed sometimes and how open he tended to be with the gunman.
But Mista had known Bucciarati longer than he knew the blond, and if it weren’t for the capo, he would probably - no, definitely still be rotting in jail by now, likely all the way till his mid to late 40s. The thought of his life wasting away in a prison cell never failed to scare Mista, his youth that he cherished so much being barred by the grip of imprisonment.
Besides, Mista trusted Bucciarati’s sense of direction. He knew the man wouldn’t go into what he didn’t think he could handle. But then again, Giorno had come into their lives and made them realize things they probably would have never been able to, Mista very much included.
This decision was not getting any easier.
“Bucciarati, we have to leave this place as soon as possible. It wouldn’t be wise to stay around for much longer.” Abbacchio spoke up, unknowingly adding just an extra bit of pressure on Mista, seeing as they had to leave this area as soon as possible.
“Right, of course. Mista, what will it be?” The gunman turned to his capo as the question was thrown at him, suddenly feeling the eyes of everyone, save for Trish, on him. After a quiet moment, Mista let out a shaky sigh, squeezing his eyes shut as he made up his mind, rather difficultly he had to admit.
“I...right. Coming.”
It took all of Mista’s willpower to walk away from the boat’s side and to the rest of the group, hearing the cheers and clapping that came from Narancia as he came closer. Mista didn’t look back once to take a look at Giorno’s face, missing out on the solemn look the blond threw his way, mixed with several other emotions, as well as the one emotion Mista didn’t want to see from him.
Disappointment.
As he took his place at Narancia’s side, Mista kept his eyes glued to the ground, still not willing to look the blond in the eye. The thought of their trust being compromised even in the slightest bit made Mista feel terrible, but he had to be reasonable. He just hoped Giorno would do the same.
“Giorno, there’s still an opportunity for you to reconsider this. There are other ways you can achieve your objective, think about it.” Bucciarati spoke up, and Mista couldn’t help but wonder just what he was talking about. What was it that he and Giorno shared that they kept from the rest? From Mista?
Didn’t Giorno trust him?
The blond stayed rooted where he stood, hands balled into fists and a downcast expression on his face. A few moments passed before he looked up at the rest of the gang, his eyes steely and his composure firm.
“This dream is the only thing that has driven me this far, and I’ve come too far to just back down now. I understand your decisions to step away, but...I’m sorry, I won’t be doing the same.”
Mista kept his eyes fixed on the ground as he heard Narancia speak, his emotions starting to get to him, “B-but, Giorno-”
“Narancia,” the blond spoke with a sad smile, “I’m not changing my decision. Please understand, and...take care of yourself.”
Narancia seemed like he wanted to say more, to plead further, but one look at Giorno and the boy knew that there was, indeed, no convincing him. Instead, he ran forward and gave the blond the biggest hug he could muster, the latter clearly surprised by this with the time it took for him to react to it by awkwardly wrapping his arms around the other.
Mista glanced up but tried not to make any eye contact with Giorno.
“I...I guess this is goodbye then.” Narancia said as he detached himself from the younger, unspilt tears gathering in his violet eyes.
“It seems so.”
Narancia slowly made his way back to the rest of the group, not wanting to leave Giorno just like that. The blond had made quite the impression with the gang, even Abbacchio, but the latter was too stubborn to admit it.
“I’m sorry it had to end up this way, Giorno.” Bucciarati started once Narancia had made his way back to the rest, “I understand you wish to continue this venture, meaning you would likely take Trish with you. We all need to escape Venezia at once, but...I’m willing to leave the boat and Coco Jumbo with you. You’re clearly going to need it more than we do.”
Giorno gazed at his now-former capo, a ghost of an appreciative smile on his face. “Thank you, Bucciarati. I appreciate it.”
“It’s the least I could do for breaking my promise.” Bruno turned his head towards Mista, “Mista, please give the turtle to Giorno.”
“Right…” Mista mumbled as he slowly stepped forward, just remembering that he was the one who possessed the turtle. Making his way over to Giorno, the gunman thought of several things to say and/or do. Would he shake his hand? Give him a parting hug?
Apologize for evidently letting him down?
Mista found himself in front of the blond, the latter giving a small smile, which Mista gave in turn.
“Giorno,” the gunman said as he brought his hands forward, handing the turtle over to the boy in front of him.
“Mista,” Giorno simply replied, his smile growing just a bit wider as he stretched out his hands to collect the turtle. The blond’s fingers brushed that of Mista’s during the exchange, the latter wanting to relish the jolt of excitement it sent through him, and at the same time jerk his hand away because he didn’t know what the hell he just felt. But of course, he couldn’t risk the second option, having to be careful with not dropping Coco Jumbo.
Also not wanting to risk sending Giorno the wrong message, but as it seemed, Mista had already sent quite the message with his decision.
After Giorno took the turtle into his hands, Mista hadn’t gone back just yet. He wanted to do something. There was a chance he may never see Giorno again, the blond was going up against the boss for fuck sake.
What if he didn’t survive?
Mista was about to say something when the voice of Fugo behind them cut him off, “Mista, hurry it up! We’ve got to get going!”
The gunman didn’t miss the eye roll Giorno gave, the latter glad that Mista was in front of him to block his view. Mista snorted a light laugh at the act before he spoke up.
“Stay safe, Giorno. We’ll be cheering you on.”
“Thank you, Mista. I very much appreciate it.”
I’ll miss you, Mista wanted to say as well but held it back for reasons unknown, knowing fully well that he would regret not saying it later on. Would Giorno have even been fine with it? They had just known each other for a mere few days. Would he find it weird?
Whatever, Mista would get over it, or at least he hoped he would.
Giorno said nothing else in reply, opting to nod instead as Mista made his way back to the rest of the group, not wanting to leave Giorno’s side either. The blond turned around to board the boat, ready to set off with Trish and Coco Jumbo, but paused in his tracks as he turned back and faced the others.
“Oh and Bucciarati, I wouldn’t say you broke anything. I remember, very clearly, you saying that you would retract your help should I ever get caught,” Giorno started with a tinge of remorse in his voice, “You always were a man of your word.”
Saying nothing more, Giorno turned around once again and boarded the boat, trying to stay on his feet as he manoeuvred around Trish and placed Coco Jumbo on one of the seats before getting to work on the engine. The rest of the gang watched in silence as they watched their now former teammates depart on the boat, not knowing what else could be said or done.
As Giorno’s boat began to move away from the dock, the blond cast one last glance at the others, silently wishing them well, but also wishing himself well. He had no-one on his conquest but Trish and a Stand-using tortoise. Giorno turned to look at the unconscious girl, letting out a sigh as the distance between the boat and the dock grew larger.
The rest of the gang watched as the boat with Giorno and Trish got smaller and smaller, till it was practically out of sight. No-one said a thing as the blond left, each with their own thoughts. Eventually, Narancia decided to speak up.
“We’ll see him again, right Bucciarati? Both of them, right?”
The capo merely sighed, not knowing what to say when the two answers he could give weren’t assured. “Come on, let’s find a way out of here quickly. If I’m correct and we are being watched by the boss’s hidden eyes and ears, then he should know by now what just happened. Let’s go.”
And as the group started to depart as well, hoping to find a way they could navigate back to Napoli in one piece, Mista couldn’t help but take another glance at where Giorno’s boat had disappeared.
He just prayed Narancia’s hopes would come to pass.
*:..｡o○ ○o｡..:*
From a distance, a certain young man watched as a boat departed from the San Giorgio Maggiore dock, leaving the rest of his comrades behind as he and a pink-haired girl and a tortoise set sail for the unknown.
“Hmm...it seems Bruno Bucciarati and his men didn’t decide to rebel against me, except for one person and my daughter. Seems there would be no need to deploy the Special Squad to take care of anyone.”
The mysterious man stood uprightly from where he watched the events unfold, a sinister aura surrounding him.
“Giorno Giovanna, I look forward to dealing with you personally.”