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The rubbery remains of the aircraft glided through the Sardinian coast’s salty air. Trish buried her fingers deep into what was once solid glass, leaning heavily into the pliant metal. Bucciarati and Abbacchio were perched nearby, clinging tightly to the makeshift parachute as they descended towards the raging ocean below.
“It looks like we’ll be taking a bit more damage.”
Trish followed Bucciarati’s gaze up to the fleshy mass above his head. Even though the majority of the stand raced after the plane as it plummeted into the sea, the few morsels that stayed in the cockpit were enough for the creature to regenerate.
“It’s completely invincible, there’s no way to kill that thing. I’ll just have to follow Giorno’s lead.”
Abbacchio protested. “You can’t mean–”
Bucciarati threw a flurry of punches with his fist coated in his stand’s essence. He was acting on instinct, and as Trish came to realize, it was very like Bucciarati to put himself in harms way for the sake of the team.
Trish tightened her grip on Giorno’s brooch. It was nestled against her bosom, fingers laced between her own.
“No one else is going to get hurt.” She heard herself speak before she realized the words had even left her lips. She sounded confident, not unlike her stand when it urged her towards enlightenment.
Abbacchio looked skeptical but even as the ocean roared a hundred feet below her, Trish didn’t flinch. Overthinking was mostly a thing of the past. Now she knew for sure, the only way to survive such a cruel existence was to take action. She summoned Spice Girls and her promiscuous form materialized behind her. Rose gold arms glistened in the afternoon light, and with one swipe they severed the enemy stand from where it was crawling up Bucciarati’s forearm.
“Giorno’s Gold Experience ability is safe, right here.”
Trish took a deep breath, gazing out at the wreckage and at Notorious B.I.G. forever condemned to chase the water’s current. She peered down at the brooch— or at this point maybe she should just refer to it as Giorno’s left hand— a small smile grazed her lips. She made it out of this encounter alive by channeling Giorno’s resolve and making it her own. He was a force that washed over her, fuelling her with the determination and strength she needed to awaken to her stand. Her birthright. Spice Girls wasn’t a half baked version of her father’s stand– Trish knew the moment she saw her that she was her’s and her’s alone. The Hitman team thought she was a puzzle piece they could use to solve the mystery of Passione’s elusive boss, and her father wanted to end her himself for the mere crime of being born.
To a lot of people, she was just a pawn, but Giorno made her feel like a queen. She couldn’t escape her past, but she could embrace it, and she refused to go down quietly. Her move set felt boundless, like she finally had the power and will to contribute to Giorno’s dream and take control of her life.
Trish gave his hand a squeeze. It felt more like pulsing flesh now, beating rhythmically over lean muscle and sturdy bone. When she first scooped it up it was a brooch, imbued with warmth and Giorno’s strong heartbeat, but now, it really felt like she was holding his hand.
Her face heated up—she wished she could embrace the thought with open arms— but her eyes caught the writing on her wrist and she willed Giorno’s shy smile out of her head. Of all the things she had to worry about, from her estranged and murderous father to safely landing the makeshift parachute, Trish didn’t think she’d be caught up feeling guilty, looking down at her soulmate marker.
She shook her head, focusing on the way Giorno’s palm throbbed, growing outward to form his carpals and tendons. Watching Gold Experience’s ability in slow motion like this was fascinating but strange. Giorno’s skin started to grow over the exposed innards, and Trish was mesmerized by it until black cursive lettering snapped her out of her trance. So his soulmate marker was on his left wrist. Trish wanted to shake the brooch, Giorno’s hand, as if that would make the creation process faster. She wasn’t sure why she was so eager to know the name of his soulmate, but her chest tightened as the letters became legible.
Trish.
Her heart dropped to her stomach. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. That was her name.
“Then why…” she trailed off, her eyes darting back to her own wrist.
“Trish.” Bucciarati’s voice startled her, but she quickly looked up at him, ready for his next orders.
“I know I say this a lot but get inside the turtle, and give Giorno his brooch back.”
Abbacchio scowled. “Look at you cradling it like it’s a child,” he teased. “I hope it won’t be too hard for you to part with that thing.”
She rolled her eyes as he held out the turtle. “I think I’ll be fine.”
She leaned forward and let Coco Jumbo’s stand pull her into the familiar room inside the key.
The last thing Giorno remembered was laying in Bucciarati’s arms, staring up blindly at the ceiling of the airplane. Both his hands were severed, leaving shredded muscle hanging from splintered bones. The pain was overwhelming, freezing him in place, and splattering his vision with bursts of darkness. Iron clouded his nostrils, and with his limited sight, it felt as if he was drowning in a sea of black blood. Before he lost consciousness, he heard the stutter of metal clasps dancing along his open wounds, then the stream that was soaking him in sickly warmth ground to a halt.
Giorno pried open his eyes, and as he slowly took in his surroundings, he found himself on the couch inside Coco Jumbo’s stand. His head pounded and his body was wracked with sickly tremors. Regaining consciousness was agonizing, but it meant that he could get back into the fight. Giorno needed to know what happened while he was out. Did someone retrieve his brooch? It was their only hope of fixing the damage they sustained. Instinctively, he tried to push himself up, but without his hand, he ended up slamming the remains of his forearm into the couch cushion.
Absolute agony exploded up his arm ignited his nerves.
His vision darkened and a pained cry escaped his lips. Shamefully, he clenched his jaw, trying his best to stifle the sounds that gurgled in his throat. He couldn’t even cover his face to hide his embarrassment.
Giorno felt helpless and the pain didn’t seem to be subsiding. He took a shaky breath then rolled onto his side, using his elbow to push himself upright. If he couldn’t replace his arms, this entire thing would all be for nothing. He blinked slowly, looking around the room, and taking in the fallen forms of Mista and Narancia.
He couldn’t let it end here.
Just then, the skylight portal made a soft whooshing sound and Trish appeared in the middle of the room. Giorno was ecstatic to see her in one piece. He traced her body, noting that her revealing clothing was both complementary to her beautiful figure, and convenient when searching her for injuries. She was cradling something to her chest, and the moment he recognized it, sheer determination washed over him.
“You saved me– you saved all of us,” he said as she got closer.
Trish shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Oh please, it was the least I could do. You’ve saved me more times than I can count.” Her cheeks were adorably rosy.
Giorno cleared his throat, expecting her to give him his brooch so he could fix the mess they found themselves in. But to his surprise, she stood a few feet away, holding his hand with the wrist facing him, just out of his reach.
The letters etched into his skin stared back at him.
Trish.
His chest tightened. So he recreated his left hand. In his haste, he hadn’t even considered the possibility of Trish finding out like this, or of anyone seeing his soulmate marker.
Giorno scrambled for an excuse to explain away why he never said anything. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to when they first met, it was just too much for him at the time. Trish was the boss’ daughter— the boss that he and Bucciarati sought to overthrow. Giorno hadn’t realized the boss’ true intentions with her at the time, and he didn’t want whatever this was to come between him and his dream.
How selfish, he grimaced. Of course, fate had a funny way of arranging itself just right, so that he and Trish were on the same side. Was that enough? It wasn’t as if they knew each other well, and with the name he knew had to be marred on Trish’s wrist, he was ashamed to come forward.
Sometimes it felt like he was reborn with golden hair, a life imbuing power, and a new name that could truly represent who he was supposed to be. Sometimes, he loathed the fact that he had ever been someone else.
At first, Giorno had found himself wondering if there was another person with that same name, who’s soul had the misfortune of being bound to his. But, as time went on, he quickly realized that no coincidence was at play– that the name on his wrist was no doubt referring to Trish Una.
She was breathtaking, incredibly strong in mind and in body, and her beauty knew no bounds. Even when they first took on the protection mission, Giorno found himself looking up at her through the safe house’s window as she stared out at the endless fields. There was a bitter sweetness to her back then. She was softer, more sensitive. She lost her mother, and with no time to grieve, she was immediately thrown until the abrasive arms of Passione.
He wished she could lead a normal life. He wished that her mother was still around, and that she had never sought out Solido Naso. If given the chance, he would have traded his own mother’s life— she was foul and brought no joy to the world anyway. Giorno knew that in this ideal world he imagined, he would have never met Trish. The thought was saddening, but when he flipped it, he couldn’t help but wish Trish never had to meet him.
While Giorno wanted to let himself be overjoyed that he found his special someone at such a young age, he knew he wasn’t good for her. He wanted to commit himself to Trish, learn every detail there was to know about her, love her like she deserved and give himself to her entirely. But Giorno wasn’t used to getting what he wanted and he didn’t even know how to begin. A part of him was grateful to Haruno for saving him from having to confront Trish right away, but another part of him was disgusted that his name was marked on her at all.
She was, truly, too good for him. She deserved more than a broken boy who didn’t even know how to love or be loved.
As time passed, it stopped being her father who held him away from her. He was making that decision himself with her best interests in mind. Besides, who could even say if they’d both make it out of this mission alive? Giorno would do everything in his power to keep Trish safe, but when it was over, would he have to forfeit his life?
He decided that he would be okay with that.
Maybe Trish would wait around for Haruno, but eventually she’d move on. A lot of people never ended up with their soulmate. It was unfortunate, but many still lead happy and fulfilled lives. Giorno couldn’t help but feel that maybe Trish would be happier that way.
The silence between them elongated to the point of discomfort.
Trish laughed nervously. “So, I was, um, wondering why you never said anything?” She looked at her own wrist then back at Giorno. “Your name isn’t, you aren’t…” she tried again, “but I, uh, I thought you’d maybe mention this at least.” When Giorno didn’t say anything, she continued, “my name is pretty common huh?”
“Yes, I suppose it is.”
“Here, take it,” she put the brooch in his lap and turned to leave.
Was she embarrassed? Had Giorno’s lack of reaction caused her some sort of distress? He lined up the remains of his arm with his new hand, and summoned Gold Experience. He clenched his jaw through the pain of reattaching the limb, then flexed his fingers, testing its durability. His left side felt whole again, and Gold Experience’s life imbuing ability was restored. Thanks to Trish. Giorno pulled another brooch off his jacket. It took a moment for the plastic to grow into his right hand, but the process was much quicker this time.
He looked up to see that Trish was standing on the chair, ready to exit Coco Jumbo’s stand room.
Giorno knew he couldn’t follow, as much as he wanted to, he had to tend to Narancia and Mista’s wounds first. Chasing after Trish wouldn’t do any good, he didn’t even know what awaited him outside the turtle.
So instead, he asked her to stay.
“Don’t go,” he said, quickly making his way to the middle of the room. “Please at least show me your wrist.”
Trish held her wrist to her chest, her eyes narrowed. She probably wanted nothing to do with him right now. To her knowledge, he wasn’t even her soulmate, and instead of entertaining the possibility, he had shut her down emotionlessly. He wasn’t very good at this, but somehow, he got the sense that Trish wouldn’t be entirely disappointed if she knew. He wanted her to know now. He wanted to know if maybe, by some miracle, he could make her happy.
These feelings were foreign, and Giorno paused for a moment. What if the name on Trish’s wrist was someone else’s entirely? What if he was a fool for thinking for a moment that any part of him was connected to a girl so divine.
“H…” he started, losing his voice and nearly recoiling at the taste of that name in his mouth. “Haruno right?”
Trish stopped pulling away and got down from the chair. “So what if it is? You people seem to know everything about me. I wouldn’t be surprised if you saw it in passing or in some file.”
When Trish looked up at him, her expression softened. Was it pity? Was she seeing him for what he really was? He had to explain it quickly, then put it behind them. Giorno didn’t need to go into all the details.
Before he could say anything, she smiled at him, her cheeks a soft rosy colour and her eyes almost glimmering. She was breathtaking. The most beautiful person he had ever laid eyes on. Trish’s reaction confirmed it. She was his soulmate. They were connected by something deeper than even their conquest. Something Giorno would describe as timid but exhilarating.
“Alright Haruno, I guess you should probably take care of Narancia and Mista’s injuries,” she said, giving him a knowing look. “But we’ll talk after.”
Giorno nodded. He couldn’t remember the last time someone addressed him like that, nor could he remember the last time he felt a warm positive connection with that name. When Trish said it, he couldn’t help but blush. She was always so good at flustering him after all.
Gold Experience made quick work of tending to his teammates’ injuries. They thanked both him and Trish, relieved to have made it out of yet another scuffle by the narrowest of margins.
Trish sat on the couch, her knees drawn to her chest. Giorno sat beside her, his head lowered, and his eyes glued to Trish’s name on his wrist. She smiled at him, then reached a tentative hand over to touch the back of his shoulder.
She couldn’t help but feel relieved. She knew the feelings she was developing for Giorno weren’t platonic. Her heart stuttered when he smiled, and she’d forget what to do with her hands when he came close. He was, of all things, heroic. Courageous and fearless in ways she could only dream of, with a strong resolve and a just dream. At times he was reserved and kept to himself. Sometimes, she sensed that he was at a loss when it came to socializing, and she wondered if he ever got lonely. Sometimes, she’d wish she had the courage to go to him, and offer him her company, but she hadn’t found the strength to do it yet.
Giorno could go from an inspiring leader to a shy, almost nervous, boy in a matter of minutes. She’d seen it herself, and it only drew her in more. She wanted to know every side of him, every angle, every piece of information he’d be willing to share. Even though they had only known each other for a week, realizing that he was her soulmate, just made sense.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner,” Giorno said, slowly breaking the silence. “I thought I could just wait to see what would happen with your father, with this mission, and then decide.”
“It’s okay,” Trish found herself saying. And she meant it. “This isn’t exactly normal. It’s not the best time to be trying to sort out this kind of thing.”
Giorno turned to look at her. Bright green eyes, meeting hers, making a shiver run down her spine. She never got such a close look at him before. He was gorgeous, of course he was. She knew that much already. His long golden lashes fluttered over his cheeks when he blinked, and his nose was dusted with freckles. His lips were full, and she chewed her own, wanted to taste him all of a sudden.
“You’re probably wondering about my name. I had to change it when I moved to Italy,” he explained, “to fit in and everything. I’m originally from Japan, but when my mother married my step father, we came to Naples.”
Trish nodded. “So do you have a preference?” She asked. “What should I call you?”
Giorno paused, seemingly unsure how to answer. “I don’t know. No one calls me that anymore.” She noticed the way he avoided even repeating it back to her.
She smiled at him, reminding herself that in such a cruel world, she needed to take action or she’d end up with regrets. There was no use holding back. Trish’s hand shook as she cupped Giorno’s cheek. She inched forward on the couch, her knee pressing into the middle of his thigh.
“I think both of your names are beautiful, and I’m overjoyed that it’s you.” She didn’t need to specify, she knew he knew what she was referring to. “We’ll take everything one step at a time. No need to rush into anything, Giorno.”
He readjusted himself, his arm snaking behind her back. His hand hovered over her for a moment, but then he gently pressed it to her waist.
“That sounds good.” He nearly stammered, but it was endearing.
He looked like he wanted to say more, or perhaps, do something, but for once, he was the one who was hesitating. Trish knew not to hesitate anymore. Had she hesitated, Giorno’s stand would be lost and their mission would all be for naught.
So, she leaned in, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, giving him everything she had. Giorno stayed very still at first, and Trish was ready to pull away and apologize for being so rash, but then he leaned into her and returned the gesture. His lips were warm, and they fit perfectly against her own. She could feel his nervousness, but it only added to the sweetness of the moment.
She could feel herself falling in love with Giorno, little by little. She wanted to spend the rest of her life, falling for him more each day, but before she could even dream of their future together, they had to vanquish the challenges that stood in their path. If they managed to defeat the Boss, Trish and Giorno’s potential was endless. Now more than ever, she knew what she had to do. She vowed to sever the strings that bound her to that despicable man, and in taking control of her own life, she’d free Giorno too, of anything that sought to cut his wings.