<Minor spoilers for pt.5 character personality>
Mista knew four-leafed clovers were definitely an absolutely atrocious.
Mista's day was going fine---even great.
He and Trish had finally convinced Giorno to take a break, and Mista had gotten enough sleep. He'd eaten well—and now all he was doing was strolling around the newly cleaned streets.
The sun was shining, the sky clear. A faint breeze blew through the streets. And Mista was grinning, with a cone of cold sorbet in hand.
Really, today was great.
Mista's chocolate brown eyes widened in absolute horror at the sight that plagued them. Shit.
Just a few feet away, in the patches of greenery that littered the sides of dusty street lanes, were a few children; perfectly innocent looking children. They were playing, grubby hands in the dirt and knees on the ground.
Normal is what you'd think. You fool—look a little closer.
In their hands, by their knees....four leafed clovers—tons of them. So many Mista could have a heart attack right then and there.
A big-bonneted old lady passed them, by, and kind smile on her face as she congratulated the children on their 'lucky' find.
A creeping feeling grew in Mista's stomach. It felt like he was on a roller coaster going far too fast with wind in his hair, tears in his eyes, and his stomach being left far behind—nausea.
Because it was a lie—a myth. Four-leafed clovers were not lucky.
Mista knew they weren't.
Surely they must be from the devil. They were definitely made by the devil—a way to trap innocent souls and bring them dead far too early.
But, they were considered lucky, a gift from god, it was said that four leafed clovers would bring you fortune. But it was all wrong, wrong, wrong—lies, lies, lies.
Clovers were supposed to have three leaves, that was only natural, not.....Mista didn't even was to say the dreaded number—four. Four leaves on a clover weren't natural, not natural at all.
Mista was debating whether or not to burn the patch of four leafed clovers—from a distance of course. He didn't want to be too close to the pile of luck-depriving things.
Four-leafed clovers were what devils wore—what wolves donned when impersonating sheep.
And it made Mista so very sick to see people deceived, completely and utterly lied to. The devil whispered great things about four-leafed clovers—and they were all wrong.
Eventually, Mista reached a decision. No, he couldn't burn them. Not now at least—not while the children were in the way. (He was a gang-star, not a gang-ster.)
So, without further ado, Mista walked over to the children
(Even though his heart pounded like a drum at the sight of his enemy, even though it terrified him to step so close...why was he doing this again? Ah, right, it was because he just couldn't stand the sight of these poor children damning themselves to misfortune.)
So Mista grabbed the trio of now screaming children closely in his arms. And yeah sure they might've tried to bite him, and were definitely crying. And...okay let's not focus on that.
All that matters was that the cursed patch of clovers was burning (setting off fire alarms everywhere), and the children were saved, and Mista was walking home with a good deed behind him.
He'd saved a group of children from a patch of four-leafed clovers.
Yeah idk either. This is my 1-am crackfic from last night so...I mean—Comments and criticisms welcome!