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Chapter Text

❆ Silver bells (silver bells), silver bells (silver bells)

It's Christmas time in the city

Ring-a-ling (ring-a-ling), hear them ring (hear them ring)

Soon it will be Christmas day ❆

Passione’s Don was going to host a Christmas party this year.

If Risotto had not received the news from the Don himself, he would have not believed it for a moment, as never once in the organization’s history had the head of the famiglia play host to a social event. Especially not one of this caliber.

The news should not have come as a shock, given every decision Giorno made was done deliberately to distance himself from the previous Don as much as he could. Still, the thought of celebrating anything with a large-scale event was nauseating in a way, with all the Capos, businessmen and whoever else the Don saw fit to invite and parley with while feelings of goodwill were supposed to be in the air. It was a power move first, a holiday-themed social event second. And with the big splash Giorno had made when taking over the famiglia and practically reforming the way Italy’s underground was to do its business in the years to come, no one in their right mind was going to refuse his invitation.

Risotto certainly couldn’t. His promotion to Capo came with the cost of attending these gatherings and other events that suited the Don’s fancy. The invitation was a courtesy. A reminder to attend if he was able. 

Amicably interacting with the other guests was important, but as with all other events, Giorno had no qualms allowing his subordinates to bring additional guests of their own as long as there was no interference with the pre-established goals of the evening. For Risotto, this got the man already reaching for his phone and flipping through his contact list to see who could attend by his side if it meant the evening going by much faster than if he’d gone alone.

He came to a stop in front of a large window overlooking the courtyard below. Most of the mansion the Don called home was empty for the day with many of the extra staff away on holiday. The name at the top of Risotto’s contact list caught his eye, always catching his attention each time Risotto cycled through the list as the name his eyes were drawn to was almost guaranteed to have his phone on him to get a quick and easy answer.

Risotto clicked the send button and let the phone ring. 

And ring.

And ring—

“Yo! Who’s calling? ”

"You’re Formaggio?”

Risotto’s question echoed through the holding area he’d been led into. The jailhouse had this wing cleared upon his request, bowing to Passione’s name the moment it was uttered, leaving the assassin to stand alone in the hall to peer through the bars that stood between himself and the individual sprawled out over the bench he’d traveled so far to see.

“Who’s askin’? Better not be some court-appointed lawyer because I already told you I’m not fighting this one.” The man in the red jacket had not bothered to remove the arm from his eyes, using his other arm to wave Risotto off.

“I’m not a lawyer. And I’m not a cop or security guard either.”

This got Formaggio’s attention, prompting the man to lift his arm just a bit to get a decent look at the man who wished to speak with him. Though, he quickly let his head fall back onto the bench after closing his eyes when he’d seen enough. 

“Yeah, no cop would ever wear somethin’ as gaudy as that. Do those bells actually ring on that hat or is it for show?”

“I’m here to ask you a few questions. Your answers are rather important, so for your sake, I hope you’ll treat this seriously.”

“Talk all you want. Not like I’m going anywhere.” Formaggio pulled himself up from the bed, refusing to put in the full effort to sit up as he settled on using the wall behind him to keep himself propped up. Nothing else was spoken after that, and with the silence growing between them, Formaggio opened his hands and gestured to Risotto to get on with his reason for being here.

Since he was so graciously granted permission to get started, Risotto unfolded a paper he’d kept in his sleeve containing a few scribbled things he’d been interested in discussing while he had the time to do so.

“You’re here on a grand larceny charge.”

“Several, actually. If you’re a reporter, you haven’t done your research.”

“I’m not a reporter.” Risotto snapped, albeit mildly, as he maintained his composure to be as professional as he could. “You managed to break into a home and swipe several art pieces worth millions of lira without any sign of breaking and entering. A perfect crime that would have gone unsolved if not for your partner ratting you out to the police, along with where you were keeping the stolen art. Then you make no effort to resist arrest or show any inclination to escape. The next day, your partner ends up dead with a pool cue piercing through his jugular with both ends appearing as though they burst out from underneath his skin. An impossible feat.”

Formaggio rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by the summary of how his weekend was turning out. “

If you're here to suggest that I had ol’ Romano killed out of revenge, I’m not the kind of guy to waste money on that sort of thing.”

“No, I don’t believe you would be either. Not when you could do it yourself.”

The thief froze at Risotto’s accusation. His whole body came to a complete, noticeable stop for just long enough that the dismissive chuckle that followed could do nothing to hide Formaggio’s reaction. 

“Me? From in here? I’m locked behind iron bars!”

“As if that would stop you.” Risotto folded the paper between his fingers and tucked it away. “I’m also aware that you are supposed to be soldato for the famiglia. After all, your little gift wouldn’t exist without completing a specific test… you understand this stunt has put you back on Passione’s radar. For a deserter that’s practically a death sentence.”

“I like to think of it as an extended vacation.” Formaggio forced a smile to appear in order to hide his panicking nerves. But Risotto's attitude wasn’t swayed by this friendly display, which finally brought out a serious look on the man’s face. “So, what? I’m in trouble then? Gonna take me out and tie up loose ends?”

“I could. That is my order.” The assassin’s admittance had not eased the thief’s mind. “However, I’d like to offer you a job instead.”

“A job?”

“A new assignment. Someone with your skill set is clearly capable, and you have no issues with taking the lives of others. I’m putting together an assassination team and your abilities would be useful if you applied yourself more. However, your attitude will need some work.”

A fit of laughter rose out as Formaggio slapped his hands on his knees. Apparently, Risotto’s offer had been so ridiculous it had caused pain in the man’s sides as Formaggio rose to his feet to step forward and face Risotto directly. “You… you honestly expect me to just come back? Just like that? And to work as an assassin of all things!?”

“Handling targets discreetly. It’s not much different from pulling off a heist on the businesses that don’t pay the famiglia’s protection fees. I’m only making this offer once.”

“Kill me now or get me killed doin’ a job. Not much of a choice, is there?” The thief put an end to his laughter and looked up at Risotto with a cheeky grin on his face. His eyes didn’t match the same enthusiasm his body was displaying, lost in an old memory, as he gave Risotto his final answer. “If you’re serious about this, why the hell not? Beats wasting my time tryin’ to make it big by striking out on my own.”

“Good.”

Risotto reached out a hand through the bar to shake Formaggio’s hand, looking to seal their agreement only to have the thief brush it away in amusement. Stifling his own annoyance, Risotto pulled out a card from his jacket and flicked it over to the thief before heading for the exit.

“So, am I expected to get out of here myself, or do you plan on walking me through those front doors with all the charges hanging over my head?”

Risotto raised a hand to wave back at Formaggio. “You were able to do it once before, weren’t you? Find me at that address when you get out. And if you don’t show up by sunset, I guarantee you won’t make it out of the city before I catch up with you.”

“But— But that's like, in a half-hour this time of year!? You’ve got to be shittin’ me!”

“Then you better get moving.”

“It’s Risotto.”

The casualness in Formaggio’s voice disappeared, replaced by an energy like no other, as his tone shifted completely. “Hey, Ris! How’s it been? I haven’t heard from you since forever!”

Risotto had to remove the phone from his ear at this rate, the man on the other end screaming into the receiver over the background noise, drowning him out.

“I’m fine—Where are you? It sounds like you’re swimming through a crowd… is that French I’m hearing?” 

“Yup!” The short man let a loud popping sound round out the world. “French guys and gals as far as the eye can see! It’s incredible what can happen when one takes the time to travel.”

“Since when did you speak French?”

“Me? Nah man, all I know is like, how to ask where the bathroom and crap like that. Illuso however, dudes fluent enough for the both of us!” There was a pause, wind brushing against the phone as it was waved as it was presumably waved around in the air left and right as the next thing Risotto heard was Illuso’s voice berating Formaggio for his disregard for the device in his hand.

Risotto had walked into the empty bar out of habit. A habit that the blame lies solely in the original team he had been assigned to work amongst when joining Passione. 

Work hard. 

Complete the assignment. 

Get blackout drunk afterwards. 

A poor repetitive cycle he’d fallen into as a youth, and one Risotto continued to humor as an adult, though without the reckless drinking and the facade that he enjoyed the company that surrounded him. 

Today had started out no different, but as the assassin had worked hard to track down his target, all there was waiting for him was a corpse and the realization that someone had done his job for him. There was no altercation to follow. No clues to find as to why the woman had been taken out before his arrival and, more importantly, no mention of another assassin hired alongside him when he’d called in the new development. And the payment Risotto was promised was still fed into his account for a job well done. But deep down, the man knew he didn’t earn the drink he’d been holding onto ever since the server placed it in front of his seat.

Risotto should have just counted his blessings and remained grateful for the easy payday, but this odd tinge at the back of his neck continued to fester, keeping him on edge as the night drew on. Ever alert, the assassin looked up from his thoughts to the large wall-spanning mirror in front of him. The lower portion was hidden behind rows of specialty liquors and drinks used for mixing, but the upper-half gave the man a clear view of the bar’s entirety without having to turn his neck in the slightest. The only ones within the establishment at this hour of a weeknight were himself and the bartender at the other end of the room cleaning his glasses for the day to come, but upon reflection in the mirror, Risotto caught wind of another. A third man sitting three seats down from Risotto’s right, who the assassin could swear was not where the mirror showed he was when he glanced over to the seat proper. 

A man with too much hair to tie into a singular ponytail and eyes that were just as red as Risotto’s, though lacking the darkened sclera that the assassin had grown up with.

The bizarre display would have sent Risotto stumbling out of his seat, perhaps even causing worry over how much he’d had to drink if he’d witnessed this years ago. But now, after being introduced to the world of stands and the people who used them, the assassin found himself alert, but overall unfazed by the revelation that he truly wasn’t drinking alone.

“Nothing? Really? That’s your reaction?” A voice shouted at Risotto from down the bar, prompting the assassin to once again turn to his right to see that the man in the mirror had now appeared in flesh beside him. “You must be great at parties.”

“Can I help you?” Risotto kept his reaction muted, curious if this man was looking for a fight or simply to talk.

“Yes, actually. Tracking you down wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. What kind of man doesn’t have a set base of operations to work from?” The man then stood up from his stool and leapt over the bar, surely garnering attention from the bartender as he began to mix himself a drink. However, when Risotto glanced over to where the man had been standing, he found himself turned around and the server no longer in sight. Something odd had occurred, Risotto was aware of that, as even the room appeared to shift in some regard, flipping through the image he hadn’t taken nearly enough time to commit to memory and distorting it in some fashion. 

“You did something.” Not a question, but an accusation that came out the second Risotto accepted that something was wrong.

“You noticed it that quickly?” A smirk grew on the stranger’s face. “That would be my stand’s handiwork. I wanted to talk to you in private without the old man down there interfering. Hate to have him hear something that could get him killed.”

The word ‘private’ was used intentionally. Risotto surmised he was dealing with a pocket space of some kind, a reflection of the bar he’d been in, but was stuck under the whims of this user who stood without fear in front of him as he shook some concoction in the cobbler shaker in his hands.

Aware that he could end this conversation with his own stand and a well-placed blade, Risotto humored the attempt as he relaxed in his seat and kept his gaze solely focused on the man in front of him. “And you are…?”

“Illuso,” The man turned around and reached for a glass underneath the counter to pour his drink in. “And you’re Risotto Nero. Rumor has it that you were given a chance to run your own team by the Boss man himself. What a lucky guy you are.”

It appears that the both of them have differing definitions of luck.

The name was recognizable, something Risotto had to ponder a moment before recalling anything of use.

“So what if I am? Why should that concern a grifter?”

“I’m going to be joining that team. You should have realized by now that I’m more than just a pretty face.” Upon pulling out two glasses instead of one, swiping Risotto’s drink aside and pouring out a shot of whatever toxic mix he’d put together for the both of them. “We should share a drink to celebrate.”

“I’ll pass.” Risotto rejected the offer and winced a bit as Illuso knocked back the shot alone. “You used your stand to take out my target, didn’t you? That would explain the absence of a struggle in the room I found the body in.”

The assassin’s accusation was met with a shrug. “I wanted to give us more time to talk about my contract. I assume you get at least some say in how payment will be distributed amongst your team once a job is done.”

“And you believe that a stunt like this automatically gives you the right to that information?” The gall this man had was astonishing.

“I don’t see anyone else lining up to join. And I heard somewhere that you're badgering a guy, in particular, to join up. I figured I’d make the first move while you're struggling and we’d go from there.”

Ignoring the thought that he was in any way being regarded as desperate by such a rumor, Risotto swapped the drink he was given for the one he’d ordered earlier and raised the glass to his lips. He did not wish to enable this behavior in the future, but the prospect of filling out his team with someone who was capable was difficult to pass up.

“We’ll see once you disable your stand. And for the record, the man I’m after is necessary to make this team work. Especially after your little display.” A few background checks were in order before Risotto was going to consider making a serious decision on the matter.

Illuso chuckled and reached out for the second shot to raise it in the air alongside Risotto’s. 

“Whatever you say, Boss.”

“Be more careful you idiot—!”

“—I’m plenty careful!”

Risotto was about to mention that hearing even the hints of the two spending any amount of time together was not something he would have expected, but the bickering over the line reaffirmed in his mind that Formaggio and Illuso had changed very little in the months they’ve spent apart. 

“What are the both of you doing in France?” Risotto asked, raising his voice to get their attention over the surrounding shouting on their end.

“We’re scoutin’ out our next target.” Formaggio’s answer wasn’t exactly illuminating, but thankfully, he hastily added a more in-depth explanation. “You’re always sayin’ how we don’t apply ourselves as much as we should be, so Illuso and I came up with a little wager to settle some scores and treat this as a… training opportunity. Yeah, that’s it.”

“Right. And that wager would be…?” 

“The—”

“The Louvre.” Illuso spoke over Formaggio’s answer. “Pipsqueak here claims to be some bigshot when it comes to heists, but I don’t buy it. A new exhibition rolled in and we’re going to hit them while it's hot.”

From assassins to thieves. This was what these two planned to do in retirement?

“You’re going to be out-of-town throughout the holidays then?” Risotto didn’t need confirmation, but at least he’d get an answer to what was going to be his next question before he even had to bring it up.

“Uh, yeah.” Formaggio took back the phone and let out some kind of hiss at Illuso as he put some distance between himself and the crowd. “Don’t tell me you're going to miss us?”

“Not in the slightest. Really, go have fun. You both deserve to get as far away for once. Just… don’t end up on the news. Understood?”

“Like that could happen with how things are— Hey! Illuso get back here! That ain’t fair! —I’m sorry Risotto, I’m gonna have to go. Enjoy your holidays. I gotta catch up to this slippery bastard while I can. See you on the flip side.” There was some incoherent shouting on the other end before the line went dead, leaving Risotto to stare out the window as the silence played in his ear.

He could only hope that the two were enjoying themselves.

Chapter Text

❆ City sidewalks, busy sidewalks dressed in holiday style

In the air, there's a feeling of Christmas

Children laughing, people passing, meeting smile after smile

And on every street corner you'll hear ❆

With no answer on their end no matter how many times Risotto dialed his cell, the man decided that heading to the docks in person was the most direct way of getting their attention and the answers Risotto needed, seeing as how the party fell on the following night. 

A particular old boat in one of the city's quieter harbors was what Risotto was after. A boat that had seen far too many trips out to sea yet remained in the kindest conditions age could leave it in as the owner took great care in maintaining the vessel’s functions. Traversing the docks was child’s play, and after so many visits to the old thing at the edge of the pier, the boat had cemented itself in Risotto’s mind no matter how much he’d try to forget.

As he approached, the sounds of conversation—particularly cursing—carried over the wind to his direction, catching the assassin’s interest as he stepped onto the front of the old thing as a head stuck out from the cabin’s side entrance in search of something. 

“Pesci, I swear, all of this useless junk scattered about and you can’t even bother to keep one lighter on this thing…” 

“Prosciutto—”

“Unless you have a light, don’t talk to me.”

The man hadn’t even flinched at the sight of Risotto, dropping his invisibility to appear by his side. His only reaction was the scowl making a home for itself on Prosciutto’s face, just underneath the scrunched eyebrows and burning glare that wouldn’t let up as Risotto dove into this coat for the lighter he’d brought. 

While not a smoker himself, he knew keeping one on him for practical purposes would come in handy. Once acquired, the assassin flicked the lighter on and held it out in front of Prosciutto, who leaned forward to light the cigarette he’d been biting on between his lips.

The two were standing outside a grocery store in the cold of winter. Prosciutto had just walked out in time for Risotto to catch him, carrying bags from multiple places, as this appeared to be his last stop for the day. None of the bags appeared to be heavy, but there was a noticeable strain when Prosciutto moved his haul into one hand to take hold of his smoke with his newly freed hand.

“I can help carry those for you—”

“No.” Prosciutto cut Risotto off a second time.

“Because that would mean you're going to keep walking with me and walking leads to small talk. Small talk leads to a full conversation that always ends with the same topics. So forgive me if I want to enjoy the few moments of peace in my day.”

“Alright, then I’ll skip the small talk. Prosciutto, I’d like to ask you to—”

Prosciutto held up his finger and closed his eyes to let out a long, drawn out puff of smoke over his opposing shoulder before responding with an immediate:

“Pass.”

“You haven’t even heard what I was about to ask.”

“I’m not joining your team, Risotto.” 

Their back and forth were drawing eyes. Not a good predicament, considering Risotto’s profession. A complete night and day contrast between them, with Risotto sporting a black winter jacket in contrast to Prosciutto’s, which was of a muddled gold cloth. Unwilling to drag the public into the affairs of their world, Prosciutto had already begun stomping off in the direction of his destination, growing more irritated with each step as Risotto’s legs had no trouble keeping up with him. 

“That’s it? You’re going to settle on being your team’s errand boy when we both know you’re more than capable of showing up that entire squad? I’m offering a chance to get out of the grunt work, Prosciutto!” 

“Risotto,” Prosciutto stuck the cigarette between his teeth and placed his bags on the ground to use both his hands to give extra emphasis on the words he spoke. “You have ears. Use them. I am not joining your team.”

The assassin quickened his pace and stepped in front of Prosciutto to stop the shorter man from making any more progress down the road. 

“Why?”

Risotto couldn’t understand where Prosciutto was coming from. They’d known each other for a few years now, both working under Passione, though not under the same squad leaders. With every new assignment came a chance for the two to interact again, something Risotto had looked forward to as he’d found Prosciutto’s work ethic to be a cut above the rest of the lowlifes who littered the lower tiers of the organization. While his stand was powerful in its own right, Risotto was after the user, not the stand itself. 

“Why can’t you take no for an answer?”

“I’m being serious. Until you give me a reason, a good reason why you won’t even consider joining this team or I won’t stop asking you about it.”

Prosciutto turned away from Risotto’s intense stare. “I have… obligations! And it’d be unprofessional of me to simply ditch one team for another out of the blue like this!”

“The ones who’d take issue with this are going to take issue with me for pilfering men from their teams but unlike them, I’ve given permission to build this team how I’d like.”

“If you have so much authority, then order my transfer.”

“I want you to join without force. If you really can’t do this, then look at me and tell me no one more time and I’ll stop. Prosciutto… I need you.”

“You don’t need me.” 

“I do.” Begging. Risotto was practically begging at this point, but he no longer cared how he came across. “You’re the only one I know who can help me keep the others on the team in line. They are all skilled assassins in their own right and I don’t regret my decision to add them to the team, but their ability to work with one another is… lacking. To say they tolerate one another is being generous.”

Prosciutto had a presence to him. An air of authority that Risotto could match in intimidation but not true leadership. Could he get his men to work? Without enough threats, anything was possible, but what he wanted was a willingness to try. An actual effort on their end, and the only one who could get that through was Prosciutto.

Risotto knew that from experience.

“You really are desperate.” The man pressed his cigarette on the top of a nearby garbage can and twirled it into the metal, snuffing out the cinders completely before tossing it into the bin. There was a pause, a few seconds of silence that dragged on as each tick on the clock gave Prosciutto a chance to reconsider his offer. 

Then Prosciutto let out a groan, clearly frustrated with himself for humoring the idea despite his strong stance against it. 

“I have demands.”

“Demands.” Risotto breathed, elated at the progress they were making. “Make them.”

“Agree to accept them first. No matter what they are. Then I’ll join your team.

“I accept.” There was very little hesitation in Risotto’s answer, something that Prosciutto scoffed at as he looked at Risotto with a tinge of disappointment. If there was any sympathy to be had, however, it had fled the moment the man started listing off what he desired.

“You better have a base of operations. An apartment, something to work out of while acting as a communal space to keep everyone in touch easier. I want a list of who I’m working with and what the issues of each one has by tonight. By the sound of it, you’re dealing with overgrown children, and that is unacceptable for a position such as ours. You’re also buying my smokes for the next month to compensate for the extra work I’m about to put in for this.”

“That’s… agreeable enough.” Risotto had assumed there would be more to it, but a monetary sacrifice to get his old friend to agree to this job was relieving, considering whatever else Prosciutto could have demanded. 

“Oh, and one more thing.” The blond man picked up his bags and began his walk once more with little protest from Risotto, who fell back to his side. “You’re taking in one of my current teammates as well. His name is Pesci, and he’s a stand user so he’ll be worth the effort on that alone. He’s on the younger side, but considering what you’ve told me about the team already, he’ll fit right in.”

Pesci?

Prosciutto raised a confused eyebrow at Risotto’s confused face. “Don’t look so surprised. The kid wasn’t going to last five minutes in this life, so I took him under my wing. Not a big deal.”

“Apparently it is considering you negotiated for him.” There was no denying Risotto’s curiosity. Prosciutto wasn’t one to spend his time on anyone, save for a select number of people that could all be counted on one hand. Whoever this person was, he must be important in some regard.

“Make that two months of you buying my smokes.” Prosciutto threatened. “Don’t make it three.”

“Alright, alright.” Risotto raised his hands in mock surrender. “No more prying. I’m sure I’ll figure it out soon enough. It was enough to temper Prosciutto’s nerves.

“For the record, I was fine where I was because I knew what to expect. I did my job, and I did it right, and that’s all that mattered. Don’t make me regret this Risotto.”

Prosciutto’s voice had since petered out, forcing the man to clear his throat before addressing the tall man before him properly. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have a lighter on you, would you?”

“Yeah, always—” Risotto reached into his pocket, but stopped at the sound of Pesci’s voice flooding in from the back of the vessel. 

“BIG BRO!”

“This is Pesci. Pesci, this is Risotto, our team leader.”

Prosciutto had offered to stop by and assist Risotto in setting up the new apartment that was going to be the team’s base of operations, once things were all in order. With most of the team scattered on various assignments, it was the perfect time to get the detail work done before they were in need of any manpower when it came to furniture and other mundane things that had been added to the list of necessities Prosciutto had started and the rest of his men gleefully piled on to complete it.

It was during the morning hours, with a tray of coffee in hand, that Prosciutto had finally got around to introducing Pesci to Risotto and officially turning their eight-man squad into a nine-man band. 

Upon looking at the kid in front of him, Risotto realized that Prosciutto wasn’t kidding about his age, definitely younger than Ghiaccio, though not by a large enough margin to warrant second thoughts by letting this kid join the team at Prosciutto’s request. Pesci was nervous, the way his legs shook a bit as he did his best to stand up straight when greeting Risotto was evidence enough, but after hearing him speak, Risotto had to wonder what Prosciutto saw in him that would make this kid assassin material.

“N-Nice to meet you, s-sir!”

“Come on, Pesci!”

Before Risotto could even utter a hint of his own greeting in return, Prosciutto shoved the tray of coffee into the taller man’s hands. Pesci jumped at the sudden invasion of personal space as Prosciutto’s hands cupped his cheeks to aggressively shake his head back and forth in frustration.

“What have I told you about confidence!? Introduce yourself like you mean it or don’t bother at all! Do you understand?”

“Right! I’m s-sorry, big bro! I’ll do better next time!”

Big… bro?

“You better because there won’t always be a next time!”

Then it clicked.

“So, that’s how it is.” Risotto looked between the two, acknowledging the relationship between them. “I wasn’t aware you had family you were still close with.”

Red flushed over Prosciutto’s face as he let go of Pesci. “Yea, well. I don’t tell you everything, now do I? And don’t think Pesci is here solely because of nepotism, because he can be a great asset when it's asked of him. He just has a lot to learn.”

“Even if it was, I’m sure any brother of yours would have to live up to your standards to be dragged around by you.” Risotto’s comment was meant to provide some relief on Prosciutto’s end, but instead he found the man flustered at the growing smile on Pesci’s face as he turned to his ‘big bro’ for approval. 

“I would never let my big bro down! Never! I-I’m going to work hard and prove myself to you, sir!”

“You said you were going to quit smoking! You promised me!” Alarm shot through Prosciutto’s veins as Pesci rounded the corner to barrel down after his brother. What kind of person goes back on their promise?”

“Well, er, what’s the point if I quit smoking now? I’ve already done enough damage to my lungs as it is—”

“That’s not the point!” Risotto let the lighter silently slip back into his pocket, not wishing to incur Pesci’s wrath. Not that it didn’t take long for the junior assassin to register the sight of him. “Risotto! What are you doing here? Not that you can’t stop by s-sir, but aren’t you really busy?”

“I’ve completed most of the important work to wrap up the year’s end. In case anything else decides to rear its ugly head, I’m sure the rest of the minor paperwork can wait until after new years.”

“A Capo’s work is never done, it seems.”

A new voice filled the air as Risotto looked past Pesci to find one more resident of the vessel to come into frame as Bruno Bucciarati gave a light wave in their direction. Still dressed up as professional as ever in contrast with the weekend wear the two men beside Risotto were sporting, the Capo looked almost comical with the way he fought with the tangled thread of the fishing rod in his arms.

“It isn’t. Though, it seems neither of us are exactly working right now.”

Bucciarati smiled and placed the fishing pole against the outer wall of the cabin beside him. 

“Pesci invited me over after our discovery of our mutual hobby. I had a few extra hours in the day so I figured it would be a relaxing use of my time.” From the corner of Risotto’s eye, he could see the look of disapproval on Prosciutto’s face appear in opposition to the idea. But one glance at Pesci’s contrasting look of content had dispersed the sour mood as quickly as it appeared. “I must confess, I’m a bit curious about what brought you out here as well considering none of us were expecting you.”

“I’m actually here to ask about the event the Don is hosting tomorrow night.” Risotto turned his head over to the two beside him. “I don’t know if Bucciarati mentioned it to either of you, but Giorno is open to more guests if you are interested.”

“I’m sorry, Risotto. We’re going on a small trip this weekend.” Pesci began, clearly regretting having to reject the man’s offer. “There’s a fishing spot down in Sicily I’ve been meaning to go to and big bro’s been looking forward to going since there will be less tourists this time of year.”

 Risotto looked to Prosciutto for confirmation, but the man only shrugged. “What can I say? I’m not a people person.”

It shouldn’t hurt to get their answer. Risotto knew that the chances of getting Prosciutto to go along with any sort of gathering were already low to begin with, but at least the both of them had a good reason to sit this one out. Something like a trip takes time to plan out. It was no fault of theirs that Risotto didn’t ask until the final days leading up to the party.

“And what about you, Bucciarati? Are you planning to chase fish along with them? Giorno would be hurt to not have his right-hand man beside him.”

“Regrettably, there will be no fishing for me tomorrow. I’ll actually be out of town on business. As I said, our work is never done, but I’m sure the Don has everything under control. That being said…” Bucciarati gestured for Risotto to come speak with him more privately, forcing the taller man to step off the boat and walk down the dock to stand below Bucciarati opposed to awkwardly shoving himself past the two by the entrance. With a lowered voice, the Capo whispered a request in Risotto’s ear. “If you don’t mind, could you keep an eye on Giorno for me while I’m gone? I know he’s capable, but after everything that has happened, he’s in need of more he can trust to be actively by his side. I know I shouldn’t but… I can’t help but worry about him.”

“You know, it’d be better if you were at the party tomorrow. Perhaps with if we switch—”

“Don’t go around suggesting things like that. You have your responsibilities and I have mine.” Bucciarati sighed, his eyes drifting down toward the water that lightly splashed between the dock’s edge and the vessel’s exterior. There was a bit of silence, nothing too suffocating, but just enough for Risotto to accept the outcome of his visit as his departure drew near.

“I’m tomorrow will go over just fine. I do wish that everyone, including you, takes care to stay safe and well during this season.”

“The same to you…” Risotto nodded his head at the group before heading out, leaving the three to continue untangling the mess Bucciarati had been working on earlier. One last wave was shared between them as Risotto left, already debating just how he was going to track the next two down.

Chapter Text

❆ Silver bells (silver bells), silver bells (silver bells)

It's Christmas time in the city

Ring-a-ling (ring-a-ling), hear them ring (hear them ring)

Soon it will be Christmas day ❆

Apparently, Risotto had left for his search in the knick of time, as a hastily written text message had brought him to one of the train stations on the other side of town. The sudden news of their departure had shaken him up a bit, a feeling Risotto hadn’t fully realized until he stepped foot into the train station and the crowd of people swarmed in to catch the arriving northbound train. 

“Risotto!”

A voice rose above the noise as an eager hand shot up to greet him, easily picking him out of the crowd and dashing along an ever-changing path through the bodies that stood between them until the Capo was face to face with the same smirk he’d grown used to all these years.

“So, how was my audition?”

Risotto had been called into an old university classroom to sit in on a biology lecture the instructor had prepared for his impressionable class that day. Nothing out of the ordinary to start. As the professor went on about general facts pertaining to the human body, each more specific and oddly darker than the last until Risotto noticed most of the class unnerved in their seats.

What had started out as an open lecture on the wonders of the body had turned into a showcase of its fragility, each organ getting a small rant to two dedicated to the many ways one could exploit its weaknesses if they wished to actively do harm. The framing of this lecture, the justification for why this man would go about such gruesome topics such as these, was to get these students prepared for what they would have to face in the medical field many were striving to work in. 

But Risotto knew that wasn’t the only reason.

“Audition?” Risotto raised an eyebrow. “You mean the lecture? You’re certainly knowledgeable on the human body, I’ll give you that.”

“I better be. You know, that doctorate in my office isn’t just there for decoration.” 

The instructor— this Melone —had wanted to show off. To prove his knowledge and the uses it carried into the field of work he now desired. A strange request, one Risotto wasn’t used to receiving, as only one other person had actively sought him out when rumors started to fly about the team he was putting together.

The major difference between this candidate and the last one who did this was that the latter already had experience in the world Risotto came from. This one had barely begun to dip his toes in, let alone take the dive that few rarely surfaced from afterward. 

The professor sighed, balling his fists into his lab coat and gesturing for Risotto to join him at his desk as he took a seat. 

Risotto obliged and approached the front of the room, taking extra caution in avoiding the messy array of chairs left by the students. Purple hair now pushed aside to reveal the glass eye hidden behind his bangs, something the assassin admitted he hadn’t noticed until he’d gotten significantly closer, as the fake was a well-crafted copy of his left eye. Careful not to be caught staring, Risotto waited until Melone had gotten himself comfortable—his elbow now on the desk to support his chin while the rest of his upper body was leaning forward with an expecting grin—before speaking further. 

“I’m going to be frank. I still don’t understand why you’ve called me out here. Why would a teacher want the life of an assassin? It’s—”

“—Odd? Impulsive? A waste of my skill? I can see it in your eyes Risotto. You’re judging me very harshly right now. What you see as a man who is giving up a safe, predictable life for something dangerous and foolish, I see it as… a learning experience. A nice change of pace and an opportunity to expand my skill set beyond the halls of this building. Not to mention, I’ve heard rumors of how… unique the individuals of your organization are. I’d love to learn so much more.”

Green eyes met red. A strong resolve on this professor’s face without even a hint of regret in his voice. Yet Risotto could still sense there was one detail that had yet to be shared.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“Ah, well, that one is a bit more personal.” Melone flustered, laughing off Risotto’s inquiries before succumbing to Risotto’s determination to get the full truth before making his call. “Not that I’m unique in these kinds of unfortunate things, but… there is the matter of a large amount of debt that I’ve accrued—medical expenses and the like. A teacher’s salary won’t cut it in my lifetime.”

Not looking to delve into the man’s personal life any further, Risotto opted to scrutinize the motivation itself, as the desire for money was something they all shared. For an outsider to come in under those grounds could leave him blind to the reality of their work.

“A get rich quick scheme then? The life you’re asking for isn’t an easy one. You do understand you’ll be taking lives to line your pockets.”

“You say that like I haven’t taken a life before.” Melone’s eyes lowered, his body relaxed as ever in his chair as he spun to the side, giving him the perfect view of the whiteboard on the wall behind him. “How do you think this convenient spot in the biology department opened up right after I graduated?”

“Not by luck, I take it?” Risotto looked back at the old classroom room behind him, wondering if a job like this really was worth killing for. Especially since the professor was about to cast it aside so easily for the next opportunity to cross his path.

“Is one really lucky when the odds are stacked so far in their favor? Now,” The sudden clap of Melone’s hands had caught Risotto off guard, leaving the professor to jump to his feet and saunter around the desk and get close to Risotto’s side. “Obviously, the same trick won't work a second time to get me the job I really want, but I assure you I have no interest in advancing higher or backstabbing colleagues. But if I need to convince you in another way...”

The young man took hold of the right sleeve of his lab coat and slowly moved it down in a rather… dubious manner. Risotto’s discomfort grew as the space between them dwindled, leading the assassin to raise his hand to defend himself, on the verge of grabbing hold of the man and shoving him off before making any more unnecessary moves.

That was, until an envelope popped out of the interior pocket of the lab coat. 

“I have a list of references here. Mostly accounts from my old professors, a business owner from a job I worked at over one summer, and two written testimonies by my peers here at the school about my current work ethic. All labeled and alphabetized for your convenience.”

Risotto shook his head of his prior misconceptions and quietly took the envelope from Melone’s hand, but not before the man took a closer look at his face and smiled.

“Were you expecting me to do something else?” The professor wriggled his eyebrows, a smirk on his face appearing as if he'd read Risotto's mind. “I mean, I could, but that wouldn’t be very professional of me.”

“No. No. This is plenty.” 

All attention turned to the envelope in Risotto’s hands. Dense and neatly packed, it wasn’t wholly necessary at this point, considering the assassin’s answer had already been decided before ever humoring this visit. It was the remaining doubt that had needed to be dealt with, now stamped out and discarded as what little bits the man had left didn’t matter in the long run.

“You’ll hear from me in the morning, Melone.”

Risotto turned and headed to the door, about to leave, but not before the eager professor gave a gentle wave while shouting after him.

“I look forward to it!”

“Melone.” Risotto reached out for Melone’s hand to exchange a firm handshake between them. “It appears I arrived just in time.”

“You have indeed. Any later and we’d have to speak over the phone, though I find telecommunication doesn’t quite do justice to sharing goodbyes as when spoken in person.” 

“Speaking of goodbyes, I can’t believe you’re spending retirement teaching. I thought you were trying to get away from all that?”

Melone raised a finger in the air and shook his head. “Au contraire. It was the financial aspect that drew me into a life of crime. But, now that the medical bills no longer require being paid off, I thought it would be best to go back to something I enjoy. And it’s not as if I won’t be alone this time around.”

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

Both men perked their heads up at the insult, but it was Melone who reacted first, after turning to see where the noise had originated.

“Ah, here comes my assistant now!”

“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Risotto.”

While it was Polpo’s voice that had boomed through the hall, the first thing Risotto saw when entering the darkened prison that Polpo’s cell resided in was a figure squatting against the opposing wall. Blue curly hair and a scowl could be made out from the edge of the boy’s face, though without any further information, Risotto had to guess he was looking at some teenager. Not yet a full adult, but the guy wasn’t any kid either.

Since this kid wasn’t the one who called to greet him, the assassin decided to pay him no mind as he turned to greet the Capo with a short bow, though the glare never left his face. Today had been busy, stressful even, given the target Risotto had been after. The whole team had been put to work these past few days, with scattered contact between them and aligning their resources to deal with the targets that fought back had become a strain. To get called away from all that blundered mess on the Capo’s whim was infuriating.

Luckily for him, Risotto knew better than to voice that opinion aloud.

“What is this meeting about? You didn’t give me much to work with on the phone.”

Capo Polpo hadn’t given Risotto anything to work with. A vague statement that something important to the famiglia needed his immediate attention was all that was said before the line went dead and the assassin was expected to drive four hours out of his way to be present for whatever the Capo had needed of him. 

“That’s what I like about you, Risotto. You’re always straight to business, without any need to blabber and pretend to give pleasantries you so obviously loathe. You should be grateful your work speaks for you, or else I’d be inclined to stop overlooking your manner of speech.” The Capo smirked before playfully swirling to the wineglass in his hand and taking a generous sip before pointing to the silent teenager still crouching against the wall. “And you. Up on your feet and show some respect to the man you’re going to be reporting to.”

Following the Capo’s instructions, the boy stood up and leaned against the wall with his hands still scrunched up in the pockets of his coat. Eye contact was made, the boy squinting his eyes at Risotto to get a better look at him in the dark. The curled upper lip was the precursor to a snarl, but before the sound could come out, Polpo continued talking.

“This is Ghiaccio. White Album is the name of this stand and the abilities that come with it make him very desirable among the various teams within our famiglia. However, his personality leaves much to be desired.” The Capo’s point was immediately made clear by the incoherent grumbling Risotto picked up behind the collar the boy’s mouth was hiding behind. “His inability to work with others is causing problems. Which is why he is going to be assigned to your team to rectify that problem. I couldn’t think of a better person to help out with this boy’s… people skills.”

Risotto crossed his arms and sighed. 

The Capo must be joking.

While he couldn’t object outright, Risotto worked to find any excuse against putting this teenager on his team. He already had one to deal with already. Even if that was off the books and mainly Prosciutto’s job to keep an eye on him, Risotto didn’t feel comfortable bringing another into this line of work.

“Do you believe his abilities would be suitable for our missions? My team doesn’t carry out normal jobs, Polpo.”

“It is because of his stand that I believe you can make use of him. White Album is deadly when reined in and under intense focus, so taking out assigned targets won’t be an issue.” Polpo set down his now empty wine glass and passed a dossier on the teenager’s ability to Risotto through the tiny window connecting the air from the hallway to the air in the Capo’s cell. Risotto took the opportunity to flip through the file, finding interest in the freezing ability the kid possessed, while Polpo took the opportunity to cross his fingers together and rest them on his stomach. “It’s the collateral damage that needs to be kept in check.” 

Risotto followed the Capo’s gaze back to the teenager as Polpo once again addressed Ghiaccio directly. “This will be the last chance you have to figure out your place. Your stand may be valuable, but not valuable enough to warrant any more chances. You should be grateful you are even getting this opportunity, you understand? Don’t take it for granted. Follow Risotto’s orders and pray we don’t have to speak again on terms as unfortunate as these.”

“Alright...”

“Speak up, I did not hear you.”

“I understand you loud and clear, sir!” Ghiaccio shouted as he stepped forward, immediately withdrawing behind Risotto as soon as his actions registered in his mind. 

Now realizing what kind of situation Risotto was dealing with, the assassin raised a hand to the Capo, implying he’ll handle the teenager’s attitude after their departure. “If that will be all, I’ll be taking this one with me.”

“It is.”

The two nodded, Risotto quickly paying his respects before grabbing the boy by the back of his coat and dragging him out of the Capo’s sight. The walk back was silent, save for the echoes of their footsteps and the shouting of the guards as they left. Once outside and clear of the authorities (as if Risotto really had to worry about them) the newly assigned member of his team finally made an effort to tear away from him. 

“I can walk on my own.”

“Congratulations.” Risotto deadpanned. “Your assignments won’t be on your own, so you’re going to have to get used to it.”

The kid huffed and continued hustling by the taller man’s side to keep up. 

“Not a people person?”

"No. It’s just everyone else has it out for me. They deliberately seek to push my buttons. And they were the ones with the issues and worked to make me angry for shits and giggles. It’s their own fault for getting too close after riling me up.” A chill blew through the air as Ghiaccio seethed at Risotto’s side. “It’s infuriating!”

“Well, like it or not, I’m going to assign you a partner.” The senior assassin ignored the accumulating frost and raised the dossier in the air, grabbing Ghiaccio’s attention before dropping it into the boy’s hands. “By the looks of it, your stand is better suited for short-range encounters. Your partner will have the opposing range to cover the ground you can’t and vice versa.”

With his vehicle in sight, Risotto crossed the street with his sights set on the driver's side door. 

“If it helps, Melone has a habit of deliberately pushing everyone’s buttons, so you won’t be singled out in that regard. I’m sure you both will be able to work out your differences soon enough.”

The man unlocked the door and fell down into the front seat, about to start the car, when he noticed Ghiaccio still standing beside the passenger door. The teenager’s eyes were staring at the door handle, but he was hesitating to reach out for it. 

“How can you be so sure?”

“I can’t. But considering this is your final shot and we really need the help, I’m going to try to be optimistic. If you’re nice enough, Melone might even be able to hook you up with a new pair of glasses since you managed to break the ones in your pocket.” Risotto reached over and opened the door, ignoring the shocked look on Ghiaccio’s face. 

“Now, get in.”

From down the tracks, an angry curled up ball of blue hair can be seen shoving its way through the crowd. Ghiaccio, carrying too many bags to count, was juggling all their things by making use of the strength in all his fingers to keep everything from dropping with the smaller handbags resting underneath his arms.

“Where do you get off making me carry all this crap!?”

Melone cupped against the side of his mouth and shouted after him. “If you’d like, I can take some of those bags off your hands if it's too much for you!”

“Are you trying to say I’m weak!?” The offer had gotten Ghiaccio fuming. “You’re the one who’d break your back over this… What the hell is even in these bags? ROCKS!?”

“Mostly my old textbooks. Though, one could argue they’re the same thing once you take into account how the newer editions make them obsolete…” The last sentence was spoken out of earshot from his partner, as Melone wasn’t about to stoke the younger man’s anger anymore than necessary. 

“I feel like I should have come with a housewarming gift.” Risotto lamented, only for Melone to shake his head in objection. 

“There really isn’t any need! Maybe in the future if you're still so inclined, but right now, I don’t think either of us wishes to carry anything else up north with us.” Melone then directed his next statement at Ghiaccio. “Your help has been most appreciated! Once we get settled in, I’ll be sure to make it up to you.”

“YOU BETTER!” Ghiaccio huffed, taking in a deep breath before addressing Risotto, now that they were all bunched together and no longer shouting over the gathering crowd. “I know we’re heading out, but how’s the promotion been treating you? You basically have Polpo’s old job, don’t you?”

“More or less. But I do have the luxury to do my work in an actual office and not from a jail cell.” 

“Good. You’re not overworking yourself, are you?”

“Not more than anyone else is.” It was not the most reassuring answer, but Risotto knew between the both of them. Someone was going to realize he’d be lying if he said he’d been taking the last few months easy.

“That wasn’t a no.” Ghiaccio grumbled, predictably unsatisfied with what Risotto said.

Melone patted Risotto on the back before joining Ghiaccio’s side. “You know how transition periods are. The first year was bound to be a hectic one. I’m sure things will clear up in time. I mean, the country hasn’t burnt to the ground yet, so clearly Risotto is doing something right.”

The question Risotto had been about to ask once again left his mind as the train beside them roared to life, whistling out and signalling for the passengers to climb aboard or else be left behind at the station. With all the complications of moving, the pair wasn’t going to have time to spend half the day tomorrow traveling just to attend a business party. No, instead of humoring the thought, Risotto saw to it that Ghiaccio and Melone were seated safely on the train without any foreseeable complications as he bid them a final goodbye. 

But, just as the train had begun to move down the tracks, it was Ghiaccio who lifted the window by his side to shout out after Risotto one more time, as if he’d read what had been on the assassin’s mind.

“Someday we’ll celebrate the holidays when everyone’s together again with all the sentimental crap that comes with it! We’ll make it happen, you hear?”

Risotto smiled, taking note to hold Ghiaccio true to those words when they met up again.

Chapter Text

❆ Strings of street lights, even stop lights, blink a bright red and green

As the shoppers rush home with their treasures

Hear the snow crunch, see the kids bunch, this is Santa's big scene

And above all this bustle, you'll hear ❆

Christmas eve.

Always paired with Christmas day proper, these two days had never held much weight in Risotto’s life until the team he’d been in charge of came together and, as it turned out, everyone had an inclination to do something to celebrate. 

Drinks had been Illuso’s tradition. Holiday cocktails and the American love for eggnog had easily made it into the household without much fuss. But then came the odd holiday brands that changed up the recipe to some repulsive flavor, drink or food. Illuso had an itch to try them all, insistent that he wasn’t going to suffer through them alone.

Formaggio was one for the holiday specials. Animated specials and movies alike, he’d sit down and binge them all no matter what language they were in as background noise while working through the month of December. The most notable of which was the film “Die Hard” to which he swore up and down was a Christmas movie due to the date the events of the film took place on. A stance that had caused many fights each year he’d pop the VHS to watch.

Decorations were Melone’s request. Never anything over the top or gaudy until the third year passed, and he pushed every boundary Risotto had yet to enforce when it came to the season. No one objected that year either, but anything that was impractical or hindered movement around their base was quickly dismantled and tossed out.

Ghiaccio had a special preference for music. The jingles and the merry tunes were to be played every now and then, but it was the soft, seasonal tunes that set the mood for the winter season that he found the most comfort in. He’d specifically pull out records in favor of the radio if given the option, but there was just something about the time of year that got him to curb his anger with a bit more ease, to which everyone was grateful.

Prosciutto and Pesci had taken up the standard expectation of gift-giving, a practice Pesci had sprung up on the team the first year with little warning as he’d gone out of his way to give something small to everyone he’d come to work with. Mostly minor things, gift cards, and practical items like a pocket knife or nice pen to keep on hand, and Risotto still had the small container of polish he’d been gifted to keep the bells on his hat looking brand new.

And when it came to a fancy dinner for either of the days, the ones who started the expectation that the group would be together for the holidays was none other than Sorbet and Gelato, who had already been treating themselves to high-end locales each year. It had come so naturally with their invite the whole team to join them one year, which the humor stipulation that everyone paid for themselves, had evolved into a sort of jumbled family dinner they’d all gotten used to expecting.

Risotto sifted through the outdoor seating area with ease, ignoring the looks he got from staff by entering the restaurant without speaking to the head server. There was no prior reservation in need of being checked in or directions to be asked to meet with a group planning for his arrival. No, Risotto had already seen his targets clear as day when scouting the property and he was not going to waste another moment getting to them.

“Oh look, it’s Nero.”

Gelato was the first one to pick Risotto out of the constantly shifting crowd of folks rushing through their lunch hour. The blond was sitting atop his partner’s lap, balancing a glass of champagne in his hand while Sorbet worked around him to take a bite out of his meal.

“Of course it is.” The young man holding Gelato up swallowed his bite before continuing. “How did you even find us this time, big guy?”

“You’re the only two I know who only need one chair at a two-person table.” The explanation was not meant to provide any insight into his means of tracking the freelancers down, but pointing out what made them stand out so much in the crowd was a blow to the ego when they prided themselves on their ability to blend in.

“How insightful.” Sorbet sneered, cutting away at another bite of his meal, this time to hand off to Gelato as they shared the dish without acknowledging the assassin looming over them. And they probably would have continued on as there were if Risotto hadn’t cleared his throat as loud as he did.

“Ahem.”

Gelato was the first to respond to Risotto’s seemingly rude interruption. “If I recall correctly, we haven’t interfered with any of your missions recently, have we?”

“Nope.” Sorbet chimed in. “We’ve steered as clear as possible from him since the last threat he made. Something about turning out skin into nails… ew.” 

Risotto rolled his eyes at the exaggerated shiver that went through Sorbet’s body. These two have been a thorn in his side for a while, taking on counter assignments that purposely interfere with Passione’s work while claiming to remain neutral to all parties as the ‘freelancers’ in their titles imply. 

“Which means we’ve done nothing wrong to warrant this kind of harassment.”

“Harassment? If you would listen to what I have to say, then you’d realize I’m not here to harass you. I’m here to give you both a warning.”

“And what would this warning be?” Gelato demanded, the eyes of both young men carefully following Risotto’s movements as the assassin sat down in the empty chair across from them.

“As lucrative as playing all sides must be, you both are accruing a list of people not too fond of your lack of loyalty. People who would rather see the both of you off the board completely instead of attempting to find a use for you.”

“Oh really? And are you one of those people, Ris?” Sorbet put down his utensils and leaned back in his chair, plastering a smug look on display as Gelato remained close by his side. 

“Not at all. I’m here with an offer that would serve to help the both of you out of this web of enemies you keep spinning for yourselves.” Now, with the duo’s attention solely on him, Risotto lowered his voice and made his offer for their table and their table alone to hear. “I would like to recruit the both of you to work as a part of my assassination team. You’d be throwing in your loyalties to Passione, but in turn, you’d be receiving protection from the other groups looking to see your heads rolling after the stunt you both pulled in Milan last week.”

The concern dripping off their faces was enough to tell Risotto they were taking the threat seriously, though neither was keen to immediately jump on his offer.

“Say we believe you,” Gelato leaned forward to scrutinize Risotto’s expressions further for any sign of a lie to which there was none. “Why would settling for just one organization be good for us, financially speaking. The whole point of freelance work is to work the jobs that pay us what we’re due.”

“What I’m offering is consistent work. Like you both, Passione doesn’t go a day without making enemies, but the difference is, there is a whole organization at the helm to back up those being threatened whereas you both only have yourselves. I’ll see to it you’re paid what you're owed.”

“But I have to wonder just how much our numbers differ…” It wasn’t the threat to their lives, but the numbers on the checks that were going to win them over. A factor Risotto had gotten used to relying on over the years as he’d grown used to witnessing the depth of human greed. But for some, like the two in front of him, he’d hoped there was just a bit more to it than that. 

“Passione is the only organization making you this offer. You both are exceptional in your line of work, but if you keep acting out on your own, you’ll pay for it. It’d be a shame.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone all sentimental in this line of work, Ris?” Sorbet chuckled before turning to Gelato and whispering something into his partner’s ear. The two go on like that for a few minutes, shuffling in their seats to discuss their thoughts before ultimately turning back to give Risotto an answer to his offer. “We’ll give it a trial run. How’s that?”

“You’re either all the way or you aren’t.” Returning to his Capo with empty promises wasn’t going to get these two admitted into his team any easier, considering his bid to recruit them in the first place. “You need to be one-hundred committed to this or no trust can be fostered.”

“Trust? Among assassins?” Gelato signaled to the nearby server to bring more champagne by shaking the empty glass in the air. “Fine. We’ll join your little group. I think a little change of pace might be good for us, isn’t that right, Sorbet?”

“If you say so.” 

The two knocked their glasses together in casual celebration. Sorbet locked eyes with the assassin they were going to be reporting to from now on.

“But, if the money ain’t worth it, don’t expect us to just roll over and take it. Understand?”

Last year was the first year without the pair. 

The first year where the dinner didn’t feel right. 

The first year that everyone began to fall apart.

Risotto had to pull himself out of his thoughts, tear himself from his mind and focus on the present as the seaside wind nearly took his hat off his head. The day had slowed down immensely, winding up in anticipation for the long night ahead and without any need of him to assist in setting up the event or to linger by the Don’s side, Risotto had found himself wandering around town once more. Remaining idle was no longer an option, the man reaching a breaking point and begging for fresh air as he walked along the private trail overlooking the city’s northern coastline to a small, secluded hill he’d cursed himself for not visiting more often. 

The two headstones, despite the hints of overgrowth creeping up the edges, were hard to miss. Nestled just below the man’s view of the sea, Risotto was able to clear the foliage away almost completely before taking a step back to let the scene root with the very same feeling in his chest as it always had.

Regret.

Back when Risotto had first crossed the couple’s paths, he’d found them nothing more than a nuisance. A young, brash duo who, against all odds, had grabbed not only Risotto’s attention, but caused this spark of fondness to grow just enough to warrant an attempt to at least try something new, something consistent only for Passione to turn around and rescind the promises Risotto had offered in return for their cooperation. When the payments grew smaller, the checks lighter and the respect for position their team had dwindled, it was only a matter of time that Sorbet and Gelato were going to retaliate. The whole team had expected it, but more importantly, Risotto had expected it.

Maybe he should have tried harder to convince them to run off again and find work halfway across the globe than take their anger out on the Boss directly. At least then he could turn the other way and let them disappear with their lives intact. Looking around at how things turned out, his world would have turned out so differently if that were the case.

Risotto let go of the air he’d been holding in his lungs, letting himself breathe easy for the first time as he braced himself against the growing cold that was bound to get worse as the day drew on. He pulled his jacket close, knowing full well no amount of determination would deter a cold this time of year, and there was no reason to make tonight any more insufferable as it already was going to be.

“I hope you both are resting easy now.” Risotto whispered, repeating the words he’d said so many times before to far too many people in his life. “I feel that I owe you two an apology for how easy it was to accept that you were gone… It gets harder the less people there are to acknowledge it with you. Did you know that?” 

The pause Risotto left was intentional, a moment of silence for a response that Risotto knew he wasn’t going to receive. He could imagine it though, something snarky and crass, as neither one would stand for such a somber attitude to begin with. 

“You may already know this… but…” That wasn’t the way to start this. “I… I can’t— I don’t want —No. That’s not—”

The Capo couldn’t quite find the words he wanted to say after that. It was the last thing he still had to share. The Boss’s death was one thing, but the aftermath… Frustration was not good enough to describe how Risotto felt towards this lingering emotion he couldn’t quite get out, but something he couldn’t stand dealing with if it stuck with him. A truth he didn’t want to contend with just yet, as denial was so much easier on his mind.

Maybe he’d try again later.

Chapter Text

❆ Silver bells (silver bells), silver bells (silver bells)

It's Christmas time in the city

Ring-a-ling (ring-a-ling), hear them ring (hear them ring)

Soon it will be Christmas day ❆

The crowd was overbearing. Even from Risotto’s bird's-eye view of the event from the balcony that surrounded the reception hall below, the sheer amount of people who were spending the evening conversing and drinking and doing who knows whatever else behind closed doors was enough stimulation to the senses to last a lifetime. 

If there was one thing he had not expected when stepping into the event was the sheer amount of care put into establishing that this was, in fact, a holiday party and not a standard gathering. Decorations littered the hall, Christmas-themed colored lights hung from the ceiling and even the music of the evening was a pianist’s rendition of every song that had been playing on loop throughout every radio station in town since December first. From Risotto’s vantage point, the reds and greens normally left out of formal wear were poking out on almost every guest. A feat he would have thought impossible until he remembered what the Don was wearing that evening, which had the entire room in a frenzy.

“A bit stuffy down there, isn’t it?”

Speak of the… No. That wouldn’t be an appropriate choice of words in the slightest.

Risotto turned to his left, pulling away from the railing he’s been leaning on to show his respect to the teenager that had snuck up beside him. Giorno, sporting a full white suit with red and gold trims, had somehow managed to pull off the candy-cane look without a hint of bashfulness to be had with how he stood he easily stood out no matter how deep in the crowd he was. What was possibly more impressive was how he’d managed to get away from the rival Don, who had been harassing him all evening for one reason or another without Risotto noticing. But then again, the Capo had been so lost in his own thoughts as of late that he could easily blame his own inattention. 

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“It’s your home. I don’t think I have a right to refuse.”

“True, but even so, I can find somewhere else to hide for the time being if you wish to have your space.” 

A generous sentiment, one Giorno had no reason to humor, yet here he was, doing just that.

“Do what you want. Better to find the Don speaking with one of his subordinates instead of hiding in the kitchen if you’re that insistent on getting away from everyone.” 

A bit of relief found its way to the young Don’s face as Giorno nodded and took a step closer to the railing. Unlike Risotto, who had moved back into the position he was in with his arms resting on the wood, Giorno only let a hand brush against the railing to hold himself in place. The rest of his body stiff and alert. His eyes wandered elsewhere, lingering on the crowd but occasionally darting back to Risotto as if there was more to be said.

And, after a bit of time passed, Risotto’s assumption had been correct. 

“I wanted to… talk with you if that’s alright.” The demanding presence Giorno usually had accompanied him was nowhere to be found, now almost nervous as something ate away at the teenager’s mind.

 He was clearly waiting for Risotto’s approval, so the man coaxed him on, now a bit curious as to what Giorno was going to say.

“Go on.”

“We… never really have had a chance to speak one on one like this for a while now. And while now isn’t the most opportune time to do so… I would prefer to speak now than to leave things unsaid.” The teenager’s grip on the railing tightened and a deep breath was taken before the young Don continued. “I wish to… apologize for everything that had transpired last spring. While circumstances made it so, I still find myself responsible for the fates of your team members. I understand if you are unable to forgive us for that, but—”

Risotto raised his hand to cut not just Giorno off, but the subject itself entirely. For the second the man had before he was required to respond, Risotto could only force himself to reconcile whom Giorno was referring to and react as poorly as he felt.

“Enough.”

His voice came out harsh, practically snapping at the kid before Risotto even realized what he had done. Immediately, the Capo wished to rescind his action, especially as the guilt painted on Giorno’s face was so painfully transparent. A guilt that shouldn’t be his to bear. Yet somehow, the teenager had found it in him to remember, to care and to worry enough of the impact last spring had on his Capo to fret about this for some time.

“You don’t… need to apologize. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was!” The teenager contested, “Mista and I… Fugo, we all played a role in their… I don’t understand how you continue to look past that and remain here.”

“Do you want me to go? Was your offer for me to remain in Passione only because you felt obligated?”

“No! That’s not— Bucciarati valued your input. He told me in light of everything that your experience was something to revere, especially after taking over and reconstructing Passione into something greater than it once was. And more than that, your cooperation was paramount to taking down the Boss, which is something I can’t ever repay you enough for…” Giorno’s words petered out, unsure if they were good enough to convince Risotto that he was needed. Perhaps the man’s prior question was a bit harsh, but it did well to see where the kid’s reasoning stemmed from. 

“Relax. I’m not just going to get up and abandon everything so easily.”

“I—”

“Look.” The Capo turned back to the crowd below as he said his piece. “You may have had a direct hand in… their deaths, but that doesn’t mean you’re at fault. It was a life or death situation. Everyone who fought in that week from hell went in prepared for the worst and for some, the worst happened. It’s not as though you didn’t experience any loss yourself.”

“Yes. You’re correct, but with how things turned out— If Bucciarati and I’s true intentions to betray the Boss were revealed sooner, then perhaps—”

“Things would have turned out differently?” Risotto finished, already used to the same repetitive notion plaguing his own head. “But they didn’t. And this is the world we’re left with now.”

The words had turned harsh again. But his own bitterness to the truth wasn’t directed at Giorno, but to himself, who had found fantasizing over what could have been so much easier than swallowing the reality that losses were taken on all sides that week. 

Giorno turned around and hid his head away from his guests within the dimmed lights of the balcony.

 “How? How do you deal with it? How do you… just accept it?”

“Most of the time, I don’t.” His answer was as honest as he could be. “I blame my own failures, though lately, I’ve been thinking about what good any of that does. So how about, we both blame the Boss for everything. It’s easier that way, I suppose, than trying to root out all the little details. The what-ifs that could have changed everything for the better.”

“That feels sort of cheap, making a scapegoat out of him.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it? If Passione hadn’t operated the way it did, if the Boss had been any different, neither of us would have had any reason to strike out what way he had. It’s not as if the dead will object.”

The Capo cocked back his head to see if his poor excuse for advice had worked, though he’d be the first to admit he wasn’t the best at comforting anyone. Least of all his Don. This time of year was supposed to be enjoyable, wasn’t it? Relaxing, comforting in a way. All this talk was in opposition to that, something Risotto had decided to put an end to if it meant salvaging some of the soured mood. 

With a glimpse of something too boisterous and loud to be ignored, Risotto could only stare at the clothing on display just below where he stood.

“Is that your Underboss?” The question was more rhetorical. A means to get the kid’s attention as he pointed down at Mista, who had an arm wrapped around a very pissed-off Fugo. The gunman was wearing the very definition of an ugly Christmas sweater, with a pair of awful orange cheetah print pants that should never have gone together in the first place. The whole display drew out feelings of second-hand embarrassment, but to Risotto’s surprise, Giorno could only laugh once he walked over to see the display for his own eyes.

“He didn’t— Mista actually went through with it.”

“He’s taking the spotlight from you.”

“And he can have it! I swear, I won’t hear the end of this little stunt for months since these people have nothing better to gossip about.” Giorno whined, exaggerating most of his frustration for fun over actually feeling upset over the affair. Down below, Mista was shouting about mostly nonsense, until Giorno’s name rose up over the crowd in search of where the Don had run off too.

A deep red brushed over the teenager’s cheeks as he stepped once again out of view, sharing an anxious smile with Risotto as they both were clueless of what to expect once Giorno made another appearance for the night. But before the young Don left, Giorno had held himself in place, looking up at Risotto in gratitude for the small exchange they were able to have.

“Thank you. For… everything.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Giorno nodded again, about to make a dash for the stairs just as he stuttered a second time to add one last thing. “Merry Christmas, Risotto. I hope you have a good night. Stay as long as you like.” And with that, the boy disappeared from view for a bit, before walking through a set of doors back into the hall below with an awkward grin on his face. 

The noise in the air had only grown louder after that, yet Risotto had no issue with it as he continued to look on and debate about heading down after him to mingle, if only for a tad. The refreshments looked appealing enough, and there were a few people Risotto could recognize that he wouldn’t despise talking to for more than a few minutes…

Risotto could enjoy the evening a little bit.

His team would be disappointed in him if he didn’t.

❆ Soon it will be Christmas day ❆