Apparition (Vento Aureo x Reader)

I Only Accept Apologies In Cash

Settling back down in her seat, she was surprised by the sudden weight on her head. It wasn't anything bad, more comforting than anything, really. Her hair shifted against her as she turned to look at the culprit. Bruno had been having a rough day. The boss would be close to indestructible, and the ensuing fight could very likely be their final battle. Thinking back on the moment not a few hours before, he shivered at how cold and limp her body was in his arms, just like the day he met her, on the brink of death, body torn and blood smeared. How many times had she experienced this? How many times has she narrowly escaped death? Yet here she sat, laughing as if everything in the world was going to be okay. And he believed it. Everything would be okay. "Sup Bruno, you good?"

"Yes. I'm fine." Reluctantly, he had retracted his hand to rest on his side, the warmth of her soft locks still tingling against his palm. With a moment of peace, they knew it was time to get to business.

"So, Bucciarati, what are we going to do now?" Having miraculously and effortlessly finished the two plates of food (she gave her dessert to Trish), (Y/N) stacked the plates and utensils to the side to be dealt with, balancing her fork on top of the salt shaker in the center of the table.

"The boss's Stand makes time disappear, and the boss is the only one who can move freely in that state. He's invincible." He raised his head to look upon his team. "It doesn't matter who it is. Anyone's attack becomes useless before that Stand."

"Yea, but..." (Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows, catching the attention of the group who searched for any good news. "I don't think he can interact with those things during that time. Otherwise we would already be dead. All of us. And it is only for a certain extent too. He may be a king piece, but with a proper strategy, anyone can take them down."

Grinning, she knocked the salt shaker over, the cap popping off to spill salt like blood from a beheading. The reason they had won all this time was that they had stayed together as a team against one or two stands. Even three point pieces could take down a queen if the pieces are played right. Bruno chuckled: Her silly analogies continued even now, but she was correct. "Once we find out who the boss is, we might be able to assassinate him. And to do that, we need to find out who he really is."

"But how are we going to find him?" Mista sweatdropped, watching (Y/N) pathetically sweep away the spilled salt from her previous peptalk. "The boss is the type of guy who's gotten rid of any trace of himself."

"Trish." Abbacchio had set his elbows on the table, hands serving as a platform as he leaned forward. "There must be some kind of hint involving Trish. Everyone was after Trish, and the Boss was trying to eliminate Trish. Right?"

"A-about that..." Narancia weakly spoke up, fiddling with his fingers. "I don't really want to involve Trish in this anymore... This feeling sucks. Trish doesn't know anything! If she finds out her actual father tried to kill her, she'll be in shock. Bucciarati, please! Let's not talk about the boss's identity and stuff like that in front of her."

A silence fell over the group, considering her feelings, Narancia was right in some case. But (Y/N) knew that Trish was stronger than that. From the turtle, she watched as the pinkette rose, her eyes on the hand that had been reattached to her arm. "There's no need for that, Narancia. I've already known that... for a while."

"Trish..." Narancia whispered.

"I remembered something when you said he got rid of any trace of himself. My mother had mentioned that she met my father in Sardinia."

"Sardinia..." Bruno mumbled to himself, it was an excellent clue indeed.

"When I was little, my mother told me that they had met while she was vacationing, and he told her he'd be right back... but then he disappeared forever, leaving nothing behind, not even a photo or his name."

"Before he became the boss of the organization... fifteen years ago... Then he was born and raised in..." Was this their clue? Their first step towards the man people had been slaughtered by? The man that tore Trish from her life, the man that sold drugs to even children without an ounce of care, the man that knew her father.

"I'm not sure about all that, but... Sardinia. His past and true identity should be in Sardinia."

"Why are you telling us that? We might end up killing your father! No, we are determined to defeat him!" Bruno's eyes narrowed. Would she really be okay with this?

"You defeating him or not isn't my problem. But... I want to know!" With newfound confidence, she raised her head. "I want to know who I came from! I'm not about to die before I find that out!"

"Hey, Narancia." Abbacchio chimed, striding forth. "Looks like she's way stronger than you thought."

(Y/N) smiled, standing up to join Trish. That girl was stronger than even she was. "Trish, we promise to help you answer those questions, okay? And once this is all over, you'll finally be free to do what you choose."

"Thank you, (Y/N)." Shyly, the pinkette nodded, brushing a hand over (Y/N)'s waist. "You'll still be there with me, right?"

"Of course I will, I'm guaranteed bulletproof!" She grinned, hands set on her hips in a cocky manner.

"Didn't you come crying to me after a gunshot wound once?" Mista hummed, recounting the memory.

"You shot me in the damn foot, Mista." She deadpanned.

"He did fucking what now-"

"An enemy! There's an enemy nearby!" Narancia shouted, eyes locked on the small fin in his soup as his stand fizzled to life above them. "There's a shark in my soup!"