Giorno feels warm.
His veins thrum with it, he's overheating—he's done little more than sample every dish and yet he feels stuffed. Perhaps his standards are low. He's never had nearly this much to eat in the past. Back when his hair was black and messy and his arms were too thin, he'd never been allowed to eat much at all. And since his ascension to Don-hood, he's never given himself the chance to indulge.
Positions have shifted. Trish had led him across the room, before drifting somewhere else and Giorno hardly finds himself having much of the heart to move. The blonde finds himself leaning against the wall, quiet in his observations. A safe distance away sits Joseph and his wife—the only two that Giorno realizes he's hardly interacted much with at all. Yes, there had been some passed lines between Joseph and the blonde, but nothing much—nothing one-on-one. Giorno is glad for that.
Joseph is...well, Giorno isn't actually sure. He's small, he's large—his being is melded into the very threads of this familial quilt. He's the embodiment of something Giorno doesn't understand. Of course he's heard plenty on the man—heard of his vigor and strength and pride in his star. It's not hard to hear about how much Joseph had utterly and completely despised Dio. The man had been completely and absolutely determined to bleach out the parasite on his family's lineage.
It is for this reason that Giorno wonders; 'Is the son of a parasite, in his eyes, also nothing more than filth?'
(The thought scares Haruno. It doesn't faze Giorno.)
Perhaps Joseph doesn't hate him—but cloaked disgust—annoyance—discomfort isn't hate.
"'Getting full?" a voice asks, old and rich; like ancient oak and ringed pine. There's no malice in it.
Giorno stills his fingers, tilts his head, takes a half step. "Yeah," he says, measured, "The food has been very good. Your daughter is an amazing chef."
Joseph laughs, open and genuine. "She is, isn't she! She's Suzie's daughter after all. I don't know how they do it!"
In the rocking chair beside him, Suzie snorts—a frail kind of breathless sound. It reminds Giorno of the last breaths of an old, long-living tree—its branches sagging under the weight of the life it's lived and the shade it's provided. "You're just not patient enough! You're no fool. If you set your mind to it it'd be easy."
"Fair enough, fair enough!" The man's eyes crinkle in mirth. Giorno feels like a third wheel. He shifts uncomfortably, wonders if he should leave, wonders if that'd be rude. As though sensing his discomfort, Joseph turns back, looks like he's going to say something.
A pause, Joseph stares. Giorno holds himself in perfect position. There's the sound of conversation and the crack of old heating and the sound of Giorno's heart crawling up his throat.
The elder speaks first. "You...remind me of Josuke," he says, eventually. The blonde can't decipher the tone of his voice.
"Oh," he responds after a moment, it sounds painfully awkward. "I see...? I'm sorry, but I don't completely understand what you mean..."
Not only does Giorno not understand; he also dislikes the implications of such a statement. He likes Josuke, sure, but... Josuke is awkward and afraid and when Giorno looks he sees the mirror of someone less competent and less strong and less like the sun. The blonde likes Josuke, but he doesn't want to reflect the inherent awkwardness, unsure-ness, hesitation, anxiety that he sees in the older teen.
He won't say it terrifies him and he won't critique Josuke for it, but he doesn't want to be that. Weakness should be purged.
Joseph chuckles, "Well, It's been strange to accept both of you...strange but...not unwelcome. It's good to have you here."
'Oh,' Giorno thinks, feeling the breath catch in his throat. Oh. And he would tell himself Joseph is simply lying by that'd feel like an insult to the pure and complete sincerity the older seems to display. "Is there anything more to it than that?" Giorno asks, suspenseful.
"Yes," Joseph sighs. "It's in the shake of your shoulders."
'Oh,' he thinks, for a whole different reason. Oh. Giorno bites his tongue, almost snaps. Instead, calmly; "I'm not trembling."
"Metaphorically," the elder says, eyes twinkling.
Giorno struggles to claw words from the turmoil of his mind. "Don't," he ends up saying. Ineloquent—unacceptable.
"Don't worry about it," the man chuckles. Giorno nearly twitches in annoyance. It seems unreasonable for someone to so casually and blatantly brush past the borders of Giorno's entire philosophy. "I'm glad," he continues, seemingly oblivious to the beehive he had just poked, "it makes me...proud."
The blonde cocks his head. "Proud?"
"Of course," Joseph says, looking fond. "It's brave of him, after all. He's my son, why wouldn't I be?"
"That's..." the boy shakes his head, uneasy. "I mean, is he...is that really bravery? He's scared, terrified, it's easy for anyone to tell."
Joseph gives him a strange look. "That's the very definition of bravery!"
Giorno bites the inside of his cheek; he has scars there from the number of times he does this. "To each their own," he says, eventually. It's a strange phrase to use in the face of anything objective. The response feels inadequate.
The elder frowns, rough on his old wrinkled face. "Well," he says, shrugging, "I was also wrong when I was your age."
"Joseph!" Suzie exclaims, halfway to scandalized.
"What!?" the old man protests, "It's not like I'm wrong!"
Giorno blinks, feels the thoughts in his head slow down—or speed into a frenzy. He isn't sure. But he knows that was an insult and he knows Joseph is wrong and he knows he really can't flame the fire. It'd be a terrible move to get into an argument with Joseph.
And, somewhere, in the back of his mind, he wonders if he would even be able to find the words to sustain his own argument. Of course, Giorno ignores this—because what is he without his iron-clad beliefs? Fear is a weakness and weakness has no place in strength. And what is strength without bravery?
Giorno is startled by Joseph's laugh. The elder is leaning back in his chair, shoulder's shaking; full of mirth. Previous matters almost seem to be forgotten. Of course, they aren't. Giorno doesn't forget, and there's a sharpness in the rounded edges of Joseph's eyes that communicate an uncanny understanding.
"Regardless," Joseph says, "I'm glad everything has gone so well."
The blonde pauses; it's a change of pace, but a welcome one. "Were you worried it wouldn't?"
"A little," the elder admits, small smile. "But it's turned out well," he gestures to the room, lively and full and overpowering in its warmth, "like this." The man sighs, sinks into the cushions of his rocking chair. "My family is happy and..." he looks to Giorno, soft in his disposition. "You really aren't too bad either. I had been a little bit worried but you're...good."
"Oh," the boy says, awkwardly. He shifts the weight on his feet. "Was there...anything else you were worried about?" He doesn't know what else to say.
"Plenty," Joseph tells him, relaxed. "This is both Shizuka and Josuke's first reunion, and Shizuka has never been good with crowds...I suppose it's okay this time since she knows near everyone, though."
"Shizuka, she's your...daughter, am I wrong?" The question is more of a courtesy than anything else. Giorno is fairly confident in his knowledge.
"Adopted," the man says, making a distinction. Then adds: "Of course, I love her as much as my own daughter!"
Giorno pauses, and, despite himself, asks; "Is she not?"
Joseph stares, blinks. "No..." Looks a little lost. "She is, she is."
The boy wants to continue, ask why Joseph had made a distinction in the first place—ask if there's a difference. Should there be one, he wants to ask what the difference is. He doesn't, though. He'd hate to look stupid. Holly starts calling for volunteers and that's Giorno's signal to dismiss himself.
The blonde readies himself to speak, but before he can get a single word out, Joseph says this; "And next you'll say; 'while I would love to continue this conversation, I can't let Holly work alone. It's been lovely to talk to you, but I must excuse myself.'" Joseph's eyes are twinkling, there's smile curled on his lips.
Giorno stares, blinks—stops himself from saying those exact words. He hates that. He hates that so much. Giorno's mind is and always has been his sanctuary, and words are but a product of the mind. Someone knowing what he'll say—a stranger knowing his exact words brings him infinite unease.
Joseph softens, in a way. "Don't worry too much about it," he says, sounding gentle. "It's not a crime to open up."
"Uh," Giorno says, eventually.
The man chuckles, "C'mon, go! It's better you don't spend time with your poor old nephew anyway! Go socialize."
It takes Giorno a moment to connect the dots that yes, he in Joseph's uncle. "Right...right. Of course. Thank you. I'll take my leave."
Giorno leaves Joseph behind, but the man's words cling to him like burdock. They're all tangled into his mind and as much as Giorno tries to scrub them away and throw out the notion of bravery being in intertwined with fear—they stick. The blonde tries not to focus on it. Not Joseph's words, nor the memories they ring of Jotaro saying much the same.
Unfortunately, Giorno's services are rejected. Holly tells him that he already helped so much with dinner, and he's a guest! She couldn't possibly let him work more than he already has. The boy tries to persuade her but Holly is persistent and stubborn and in the end it's useless.
There are two options, the engawa, or the common room. Giorno wants some peace—he goes outside. It's cold, but refreshing. He breathes deep, sighs, lets his expression slide right off his face. What's left is something more genuine—more tired, more nervous, more authentic in its hints of happiness.
He doesn't let himself breathe a long and shaky breath, though. And he's glad he doesn't, because he isn't as alone as he had thought.
"Lisa Lisa," Giorno says, blinking. "Why are you out here? It's cold."
The woman raises an eyebrow. "I could say the same to you." There's a moment, Lisa Lisa stares; Giorno feels ants on his skin. "You forgot your face," She says, eventually.
Oh. There's still a furrow between his eyebrows, still a frown curled onto his lips. A blink and it's gone. The action is a little too late, though.
"What's bothering you?" She asks, carefully.
Giorno pauses. He doesn't say: 'I'm worrying about there perhaps being flaws in the philosophy that governs my very being.' Instead, he blurts; "You and Joseph...you two accepted me extremely easily," (everyone did,) "I don't know very much about you, Lisa Lisa, but from what I had heard of Joseph...he shouldn't have accepted me so readily."
Lisa Lisa cocks her head, settles into the open space beside Giorno. The moonlight illuminates the streaks of grey and while adorning her otherwise obsidian hair. "That's been bothering you?"
"To some degree, yes," It's not quite the full truth. It's not what Giorno had been thinking about at that moment—but it's not untrue. It has been bothering him. "If I didn't have better sense, I'd file it under fraudulent behavior."
The woman softens; sighs. "Then it's a good thing you have your sense about you." A moment. "I understand what you mean, though. This would be startling for anybody." Especially you. She doesn't say, but Giorno hears it nonetheless. He doesn't like the implication of vulnerability.
"Uh-huh..." Giorno says. "Then...there is a reason, or?"
Lisa Lisa chuckles. "Our branch of the family is used to accepting long lost relatives... Josuke is the most obvious but even before that, when Joseph was in his teens, he was dealing with sudden family."
Lisa Lisa speaks of it as though she were there. There's a weight to her words. Giorno hesitates, holds up a hand, falters. "My apologies, this may sound strange, but I'm...not exactly sure where you lie in the family tree. May I inquire?"
"Oh!" The woman says, almost surprised. "I had forgotten...right. I'm your sister-in-law."
"Uh," Giorno says.
"Elizabeth Joestar, Joseph's mother. I would prefer Lisa Lisa, though," The woman tells him.
The gears in Giorno's mind turn, clanking against each other in a mad frenzy to organize the information. If Lisa Lisa is really Elizabeth Joestar—the same one of whom the blonde had seen written into the Joestar family tree—then that would place her at over a century in age. Lisa Lisa is certainly not nearly that old! It'd be impossible for Giorno's age estimation to be off by that much. But she doesn't look like she's lying, and if, somehow, it were true, it would answer the question of Lisa Lisa's identity.
"How?" The question is more curious than accusatory. Then; "A stand...?"
"No," Lisa Lisa shakes her head, "Hamon." Giorno sends her a questioning look. She pauses. "It's a power different from stands...a little bit complicated, too."
The blonde is reeling. There was an entire supernatural branch of abilities that he had never heard of? Perhaps it is natural that he hadn't heard of it previous to the mafia—but now he's the Don Passione. It's his job to know enormous thing like this; his responsibility. He bites his lip. "A short summery, please...may I inquire more at a later date?"
"Of course," Lisa Lisa hums. "It's far from common knowledge, but not exactly a large secret." She taps the wall behind her, thinking. "A summery huh..." She pauses, the wind blows, Giorno waits in anticipation. "Magical essence of the sun martial arts that make you into a human sunbeam laser," she says, straight faced. Then adds: "It also slows your aging."
"Um," Giorno says.
Lisa Lisa chuckles. "It's unique."
"I see..." The boy trails off. "So...how many people know about this practice..?"
She frowns, sighs. "Probably only a couple dozen by now...Joseph used to practice it, but he stopped years ago. I taught him myself."
"Oh," he blinks, "When?" A pause. "When did he stop, I mean."
"In his late twenties," The woman sighs, again. "I taught him when he still a teenager. He was really good at it, you know. He tried to take a lot of short cuts, but in the end, he did work hard." She pauses, glances away, looks down. Suddenly, to Giorno, she looked a little more her age. A little tired, a little wise; having seen the tidings of a long life. "I was proud of him...I never actually..." Lisa Lisa trails off.
Giorno waits a few seconds before prompting her to continue. Carefully, he asks; "Yes?"
The woman pauses, closes her eyes, opens them. "I never actually...raised Joseph. I left him with his grandmother. I only really, well, met him when he was eighteen and I was teaching him Hamon." Lisa Lisa pauses. "He didn't even know I was his mother at the time."
"Ah," Giorno says, somewhat startled, somewhat awkward. "That must have been hard. I'm glad you two seem to have made up...?" Perhaps he shouldn't have said that. He isn't sure of their status at all.
She chuckles, "Yes, I'm glad, too." Her eyes are twinkling. "It wasn't easy. I only told him I was his mother after I thought he died...I'm not sure if I even thought of him as my son back then..." She pauses, "Not at first, at least. I think I only really, completely thought of him as my son after a number of months...years. I imagine it was the same for him—he was angry at me when I first told him. I think it..." The woman falters. Giorno doesn't dare to speak. "It...off-put him."
"I...see," Giorno says, eventually. He doesn't see, not really. He doesn't know why Lisa Lisa took a few months (years?) to accept Joseph as a son. Is that how it usually is? It can't be; he's seen women beg at his feet the cancel their debt—'for my baby!' they'd say. Obviously those women consider their newborns family, so how come it would take time for Joseph and Lisa Lisa..? Perhaps it has to do with the factor of time and distance?
...How does that relate to his situation?
(Haruno has never liked houses. He disliked his first, hated his second, been okay with his third, is still trying to ease into his fourth, and his fifth is confusing.)
The woman looks at him; a smile curls on her lips. "That seems to have gotten rather heavy, it wasn't my intention." She pauses, chuckles. "What I mean to say is that we're rather used to accepting people. Hell, Joseph is more experienced than I am with everything surrounding his son! Anyhow...really, you don't have anything to worry about."
Giorno stares; wide eyed and still confused. "But," he ends up managing, "I'm not your son? I'm not your grandson—I'm not the direct descendant of anyone here, and obviously I'm not married in. You don't," he falters, "need me. It's useless, all of it. I can't claim your culture and I can hardly claim your blood."
Lisa Lisa smiles, fond. Steady and stable, like a pillar or a support. It's a little comforting, but not nearly enough to ease Giorno's turbulent mind. "No," she says, "you're not." She pauses, thinking, "That, however, doesn't invalidate your place at our table."
Giorno grits his teeth. He hates this feeling. He's powerless and confused and it's all wrong. He's never had much difficulty with math but he imagines that this must be the way many of his peers had felt when they struggled over equations. Giorno snaps. "Then why am I here!?"
The wind blows frost across Giorno's skin and ruffles his hair. The moon shines big and bright and brilliant. The stars glitter around it, warm and scattered. Cold numbs its way into Giorno's fingers. The star on his shoulder aches. Lisa Lisa's gaze burns holes through his skin.
He clenches his fists, where no one can see the blood on his palms. It happens sudden and shocking; nothing more than a mere split second after his words bite the air. He's broken character. He's broken Giorno. He did what a child would do. He doesn't need to rely on the whims of others to answer his own questions. He isn't helpless. He isn't a child.
(He isn't Haruno.)
"Excuse me," the boy says, "I didn't mean to come off so strong..." His hair gleams gold and silver in the moonlight; his smile plastic and manufactured.
Lisa Lisa sighs, waves her hand. "Come on, no need for that."
Giorno smiles.
Another sigh, the woman looks up at the night sky, looks back at him. "It's alright; your reaction is perfectly natural." She shakes her head, smiles bitterly. "It wasn't easy getting you here, you know. And I'm not just talking about logistics—Jotaro and Joseph rejected the idea very strongly at first, you see."
The blonde nods—finally, something that fits within logic. "Yes," he says, slowly, "that makes sense."
Lisa Lisa nods, breathes deep. "They were really concerned, even Joseph, despite his old age and growing senility. Jotaro nearly fought Holly over it," she says, amusement coating her words.
The breath catches in Giorno's lungs. "Oh," he says, sounding lost. "How'd that work out? I'm here, I mean. Of course you know I'm here. I mean—" he's rambling. Rambling is useless. "I'm glad the situation seems to have worked out peacefully, I mean."
The woman laughs, eyes crinkling. He can see age in the wrinkles creeping onto her face. "Relatively, it was a large argument...but in the end Holly won and Joseph conceded. Jotaro said he'd make up his mind when he saw you." She sighs, closes her eyes. "It wasn't easy."
The wind blows and the stars glitter and the birthmark on Giorno's shoulder burns. "Then," his voice is little more than a whisper, "as I keep asking, why am I here? What could Holly have possibly said?"
Lisa Lisa pauses, thinking. She purses her lips. "This isn't exactly what she said, but it comes down to responsibility." The woman tilts her head, meeting Giorno's gaze. It's blue on blue. "You're a loose end, Giorno. It's our duty to resolve our part."
The blonde in question stares back; like a student looking at a teacher in utter confusion. Eventually, he asks; "Responsibility?"
"Yes," says Lisa Lisa, "responsibility, familial responsibility." When Giorno is still confused, she quirks her eyebrow and says; "You...do understand what I'm talking about, right?"
"Sure," responds Giorno. In reality, he doesn't, not really.
Lisa Lisa looks at him for a long moment. Giorno can feel his skin prick uncomfortably. Phantom ants are crawling inside his veins. He should know the answer to this question.
(Haruno reads a lot of books; he still doesn't know the answer to his mother's question.)
Another pause; the wind blows, the moon shines gold and silver through his hair, the star on Giorno's shoulder burns. Eventually, slowly, carefully, Lisa Lisa asks; "What do you know of the role of the parent?"
Giorno blinks. And, not untruthfully, says; "I've never particularly thought of it before." But his answer is more of avoidance than an answer. He doesn't know. How could he? Perhaps there is a role, but it's not obvious to him. It's obscured by black fog and more barriers than he can count.
"I...see." She nods. "That's fine. Family..." she trails off, "You're not a burden, don't get me wrong, please."
"Right," breathes Giorno.
Lisa Lisa offers him a faint smile. "Giorno," she says, too kindly, "a family is like a web. It's a support. If the entire world tries to tear you down, it is the role of your web to have given you a strong enough foundation to hold. And if you are torn and fall, it is the role of family to build you back up...do you understand a little bit more?"
Giorno pauses. Yes, no, not really, maybe, perhaps. He thinks so. Maybe just a tiny bit. Then again, his mother was none of those. "Yeah," he says. But, is it only biological family that can do that? Giorno doesn't think so. That man, the gangster, had never been related to him—yet he had served more of that role than anyone else.
Lisa Lisa smiles, "I'm glad." She pauses, "Anyhow...as a child's first social circle, and as a product of their family, it's the family's responsibility to care for the child..." Another pause, the wind blows the star on Giorno's shoulder burns. Something in the woman's expression changes, "...We were never there to provide. It's obvious your mother didn't." Her face looks tight. Giorno doesn't know what that means. "We're late, but late is better than never at all, I suppose."
Giorno blinks; trying his very best to absorb the information. It feels like something is missing. He understands more now, he thinks. But it feels more complicated than that. Jolyne had been crying—her relationship with Jotaro had felt more complicated than a simple provided for and provider situation. It feels like there should be more to family than that.
But then again, what would Giorno know?
(He wouldn't know. And with not knowing the answer, comes anxiety. Haruno's pale fingers tremble.)
He keeps his thoughts to himself. They stew in his mind, like a thorn to his thoughts. But he could be wrong, and he doesn't want to look stupid. They'll think badly of him. So he bites his tongue and takes special care to his expression and eventually, after too much silence, resolves to continue the conversation. Perhaps, if he can't put it bluntly...he can ask his question in a roundabout, implied way? Of course.
"Then," he asks, carefully, "what do you consider me?"
The woman hesitates, looks at him for a long moment, purses her lips. The question seems to trouble her. Dully, Giorno wonders why there can't ever be simple answer to anything. "Well," she begins, her brows slightly furrowed, "in what way?"
"Familial," Giorno answers, tone measured—watching her nonverbal signals like a hawk.
She pauses, the wind chills Giorno's skin. His star still burns thorns on his shoulder. "You...I've accepted you, of course. You've been accepted here, but—" Ah, there it is, "I don't fully," she quiets, just the tiniest bit, "fully consider you family. Not yet at least. Sometime."
Yes; there is something to family besides blood. Giorno is sure of it now—it's more complicated than provider and provided for. That's one of his questions answered. He still feels lost; a sailor lost in the forest. This has never been his scene—he's more comfortable in ballrooms and offices.
(That's somewhat misleading, though. Haruno has never felt comfortable in those big fancy places. Still, they're better than this.)
Then again, ballrooms don't really feel like his place–even if they should...Has he ever had a place at all?
Giorno does his very utmost best to ignore this thought. It doesn't matter; it's useless. He has more important things to focus on.
"I see," he eventually manages. He doesn't know his own tone.
Lisa Lisa looks at him, unreadable. Giorno stares back. Eventually: "Are you disappointed?"
Is he disappointed? He doesn't think so. Definitely not. "No," he shakes his head. He tries not to stumble over his words, but he does anyway. "No, it makes sense, I. It's a relief, I mean. It makes perfect sense."
And Lisa Lisa is still looking at him. He doesn't know the expression on her face. It's something fond and something wary and incredibly strange. The stars glitter through Giorno's gold-turned-silver hair. The woman starts to speak, stops, looks at him strangely, speaks.
"Can I give you a hug?"
The wind blows, Giorno's eyes are wide, glittering in the moonlight. Oh, he thinks. "Oh," he says. And no matter how much Giorno's eyes pry her face for humor, she isn't joking. "Uh," he manages. The wind chills his skin. His fingers numb cold and shaky by his side. Frost blows against his neck and through his shirt. It's cold out. It wouldn't be bad, necessarily.
...But Lisa Lisa is large and strange and new and Giorno has never liked hugs.
"No," Giorno says, "Thank you, though," he adds, unsure.
The woman hums. "That's alright. Don't worry about it."
Giorno stares, unsure. He doesn't regret his decision. He's not disappointed. That'd be ridiculous. But there's a let-down, sinking feeling in his chest—it's heavy. "But," he starts, breathless, unsure of what he's saying, "maybe sometime. Not now. Maybe sometime."
Lisa Lisa looks at him, silent. Her eyes twinkle. "Sometime." And it sounds like a promise. The wind bites his skin; Giorno already feels phantom warmth cocooning him.
"Yes," he agrees, "sometime." She's smiling, so is Giorno. He doesn't know if he does it out of genuine emotion, or simply to match her expression. He tries not to think about it.
The wind doesn't seem so chilly anymore. It still blows, of course. It seems to have been picking up, actually. Nothing much, of course, not hurricane level—but a storm seems to be blowing in. Over the wind, Giorno can't tell if the small scampering noise is from the bushes or the house. It only lasts a moment before it fades off. Giorno easily archives the noise to critters.
Despite the warmth in his chest, Giorno shivers. It's still cold. The movement isn't lost on Lisa Lisa.
"We should head in," she tells him, "I wouldn't want you to catch a cold."
Giorno nods, "Yeah. I wonder if there's still any cleaning to do in there. Holly kept saying I couldn't help."
Lisa Lisa laughs. "That sounds just like her! She's a bleeding heart to her core."
The blonde nods, smiling, "She's very nice."
Just as they are about to return inside; Lisa Lisa startles. Her hand freezes, she turns towards him. "There's something I should probably tell you, before I forget again."
Giorno sends her a questioning look. Something she had forgotten...? She seems very serious about it, which indicates that the matter is of importance. He hopes he hasn't done anything wrong. "Yes...?"
"You...really don't need to keep attempting to break into Air Supplena island. Please, a no is a no. Defeating your foot soldiers is getting bothersome."
Giorno chokes. Recovering from his surprise, he gasps for breath, eyes flying wildly to Lisa Lisa's deadpan. It makes so much sense now. The reason why her name had rung bells when he first heard it, why she was so fluent in Italian. He has been too distracted to properly connect the dots. "You are that troublesome and mysterious owner of Air Supplena Island!?"
She smiles, "Yes. I assure you, I'm not hiding drugs on my property."
"You didn't have to injure all my soldati!" Giorno cries. "They were out for weeks!"
"And you could have simply accepted my letter that, no, I was not harboring drugs," Lisa Lisa responds, humorous.
"Cazzate," Giorno swears. "There's no way I could do something as utterly stupid as to leave a large, privately owned, island a mere thirty minutes away from Venice completely unchecked! We tried to do a background check, you know! It came up with nothing; 'Lisa Lisa' doesn't exist! Of course we were suspicious!"
It's uncharacteristic of him, really. But Air Supplena Island has been a thorn in his side since the very moment he took over Passione. He's been trying to drug check the island for months. Had he not been so busy he would have gone there himself. As it stands, he had been planning to personally check if it went on much longer. Damn his other responsibilities. Fugo's entire division has been working themselves dry over the issue.
"I don't like people on my private property," Lisa Lisa says.
The blonde tries to collect himself. "Fine." It sounds like a complaint. It sounds like a child finally conceding to the word of a parent. Giorno doesn't like his tone, but he can't bring himself to care. "I'll stop trying to drug check the island. Pay my soldati's hospital bills."
Lisa Lisa looks at him, raising an eyebrow. "You're the mafia. You don't have enough money to pay for those? Don't be a cheapskate."
Giorno feels like hissing. He doesn't, of course. But Goddamn. "Don't lecture me."
She chuckles, "I'd hardly call this a lecture."
"You can't lecture me in any case," Giorno says, furrowing his brows. He isn't pouting.
"Oh?" Responds Lisa Lisa, raising an eyebrow, "Bold. You'd get your ear pulled if your grandmother was anyone else."
He startles. "You aren't my grandmother." And then; "I don't have a grandmother."
"Not yet."
Giorno wants to protest, he really does. He wants to say: 'that doesn't make any sense!' But, alas, they enter the common room and suddenly it's loud and warm and there isn't time to argue about that.
Trish is calling him over, he joins them easy. It's another of Mista's strange topics. 'So, Dolphins eat fish, yeah? But, like. Dolphins are fish too, right? So like, is it like, semi-cannibalism?' Trish is extremely exasperated. 'It's stupid,' she says, 'going by that logic a bear eating a deer is cannibalism!' Giorno doesn't really know what to say, luckily, he doesn't have to say anything. Jolyne, in all her ten-year-old smugness, comes over and self-assuredly tells them that: 'actually, Dolphins are mammals. Not fish. Dad told me. And dad knows more than any of you.'
This causes a bit of commotion, firstly: Jolyne shouldn't be able to understand them. However it's quickly revealed that Shizuka had been translating for her. Secondly: Mista doesn't know what Jolyne had said—and, for god-knows-what reason, assumes that she has challenged him to some kind of contest. Thirdly: ten-year-old smugness. It's all rather confusing.
When, eventually, the matter is resolved, Giorno remembers he really needs to leave. His mind is in Italy. He can imagine the poor members of his intelligence and logistics team still desperately trying to figure out how to deal with the issue of Air Supplena Island. "One moment," he says to Trish and Mista and Jolyne. "I'll be back in a second, I need to make a phone call."
Jolyne looks confused at their words. Giorno simplifies it into English for her.
"Ew," Jolyne immediately says, "a phone call."
Similarly, Trish furrows her brows. A frown twists on her lips. Mista, too, jumps to alert. His eyes are inky black and watchful. After a moment, he carefully asks; "Why?"
"I need to tell Fugo something," Giorno vaguely answers.
Sex Pistols stick out from beneath Mista's hat. His expression is calm. "Is something wrong?"
"No," Giorno says, quickly, then; "not like that, I mean. I just need to tell Fugo something."
Trish groans. "Come on, we're on vacation! Passione can take a day without your management."
Giorno frowns. "It'll only take a few minutes, ten at most."
"Is it something really important?" It's a somewhat accusatory tone. Giorno shifts uncomfortably. It's not like he's doing something wrong. Passione always has and always will come first. Trish is too stubborn.
"It's save a lot of time and trouble for everyone," he answers, measured.
Trish groans, again. It's loud. "Fine," she gives. Then she holds out three fingers. "Three minutes, only speak for three minutes. You can't need more time than that. Work out the details when you aren't in the middle of your super special reunion."
Giorno does not like this, but Trish has always been stubborn. He doubts she'll budge anymore. "Fine," he murmurs, "I'll be back in a few minutes then."
Just as he's leaving, Jolyne, looking somewhat letdown, says; "Jeez, I don't get why you adults like phone calls so much. They're boring."
Giorno thinks about ignoring it, he probably should. Instead, he leans down. "Don't worry, I won't be out long. Alright?"
"I wasn't worried! I'm not a kid anymore."
Giorno nods, and lightly brushes his hand against her hair, and steps out of the room. He doesn't go outside, this time. It's cold and he's already spent so much time outside already. He probably wouldn't be able to hear Fugo over the wind anyway. Instead, he slides open a door to some other unknown part of the house. He opens into a hallway—it's unlit. He slides the door shut behind him. The sounds muffle.
When his eyes finally adjust t the light, he moves away. The air is heavy. There are pictures on the wall. A messy crayon drawing of a dolphin. Giorno didn't come here for this, but he keeps looking. There are a lot of things like this. Jotaro when he's five, baby Jolyne, the star blazing wide and noticeable on her shoulder. A wedding photo; Holly looks younger. Two high school graduation photos. Josuke posing with his father.
Giorno feels like he's intruding. This isn't his place, these aren't his memories. Even Josuke is here. He looks away from the dark, half-shadowed pictures. They're looking at him, he hates it. He knows what they're implying is true. He shouldn't be here.
Giorno tries not to think about it. He's far enough away for the noise not to interfere with his call. A few clicks and his flip phone is ringing. Fugo picks up in a heartbeat.
"Is something wrong?" His voice is static and sounding strained over the thin connection.
Unknowingly, Giorno's face has already molded into something far more plastic. (Don-like.) "No," he says, soothingly. "Don't worry."
"Okay, yeah, that's good. Are you sure? I thought something had gone terribly wrong," the connection falters, "Hello? Oh, it's back. So no fights have happened? Why'd you call me?"
It's not uncommon for Fugo to ramble like this. He's just worried. "Nothing has happened," Giorno says. "But if you insist, it's been well. I feel fine. They aren't...threats." His own words surprise him. Somehow he hadn't registered it yet. They aren't threats. And somewhere, more vaguely, in the back of Giorno's mind: There's no reason to worry.
"Oh, oh, that's good." There's some shuffling on the other end, it sounds like papers. The noise is painfully static. "So, um, reason for calling? Sorry."
"Right, of course," Giorno says, "Don't worry about Air Supplena island. I've mostly settled the matter." The blonde takes a second to decide if he should elaborate. He should. Just as he starts speaking—
"What!?" Fugo screeches, the phone producing a searing sound by Giorno's ears. Hnn. Some clattering on the other end. "Excuse me, how?"
"I don't have time for details," Giorno says. "I'll tell you more when I come back. A lot of things are happening, I hope you can understand. Just know that I ended up finding the hidden identity of Lisa Lisa. It's fine. I'm sure there are no drugs on Air Supplena Island."
"You met them!?" the phone is loud, again. The pitch is a pain in Giorno's ears. "How do we know they aren't just...lying? Or? Was it not spoken account?"
"Spoken account," The blonde says, and then hesitates. He hears muffled laughter from the other room. "It's alright...I trust their word." A pause, static, the connection falters. Somewhat quieter: "I trust them."
"Oh," responds Fugo, still sounding a little unsure. "O...kay. I trust you. If you trust them I trust them."
Somewhere down the hall, a door slams open. Jolyne's silhouette comes into view. "C'mon Giorno! Trish says to: 'sbrigati! Vieni qui! Il tempo è scaduto!'"
Immediately, Giorno flushes. He hopes Fugo hadn't been able to make out what exactly Jolyne had repeated. He probably hadn't. After all, Jolyne's English accent is thick and she had thoroughly mangled the words. Hurry up! Get over here! Time is up!
"What?" Fugo's static voice comes, sounding confused. "Italian? Who was that?"
Giorno is immediately relieved by the fact that Fugo hadn't seemed to have understood. "That was Jolyne, Jotaro Kujo's daughter? We went over her on the family tree." A pause, static over the phone, what sounds like: 'Oh, I remember.' "Anyhow," Giorno hastily continues, "I need to go now, don't worry so much, Fugo."
Click. The phone hangs up.
"I'm coming!" Giorno calls as he walks down the hall.
The girl easily cuts the distance between them. "Good! You were being suuuuperrrr slooowwww!" Jolyne complains, taking his hand and pulling him back into the common room.
It's warm again, bright again—different from the cold dark hall. He feels a little more comfortable. He vaguely wonders when he started to feel more comfortable in company than out of it. But it's warm, and there are jobs to help with, so Giorno doesn't linger on the thought.
Again, Holly insists he shouldn't be helping. But this time he says; 'Am I not to help in the household I stay?' and he doesn't mean for it to seem so...accepting? He doesn't live here. He's only staying here for tonight. He might be leaving late tonight, actually. But it sounds like he he's said 'I'm staying,' in a more complete, final way. But Holly's eyes twinkle and her face lights up and Giorno can't bring himself to take back his words.
There's much to do. Desert is only half done. (They had apparently prepped it before Giorno arrived; now all it needs is baking.) Apples pies, frozen yogurts, smoothies, brownies—apparently Jolyne had requested blueberry-caramel-chocolate chip-peach pancakes. The house is full of the scent of frying dough and baking peaches. (Peach cobbler! Giorno cannot wait.) He wonders if they have gelato in the freezer. He knows they have ice cream—but it's not quite the same. He'll have to show Josuke and Jolyne Pistachio gelato someday. If he ever sees them again, he means.
There are dishes to be washed, and deserts to be made, and the table must be re-set. Giorno sets to work. Lisa Lisa and Holly are in the kitchen, washing dishes and finishing desert. It's him, Josuke, Jolyne, and Shizuka that are on duty to help them. Their duties include cleaning up the common room, re-setting the common room for desert, and doing any other assortment of odd jobs. It's actually not half bad.
Giorno has never really had this opportunity before. Obviously his mother and step father had ordered him to do things—bring another bottle, clean this up; You'll bring me the hummus, won't you, Haruno?—but this is different. He would almost call it fun. Still, nothing tonight seems to be without stumbles, no matter how minor, and this isn't an exception.
The first happens when he asks Shizuka to give him a dirty dish that's lying on the floor by her feet. He hadn't meant for authority to slip into his voice. But he supposes it must have. Because the girl stares, then giggles. Too loudly for his liking, she says: 'I'm not a mafia guy! Only mama tells me to do stuff!'
It's not much, but Giorno doesn't like it. He, of course, by this point, understands that no one really cares that he's the Don Passione. But it still isn't a good look. For a brief second, Giorno worries. Then Suzie laughs and says: 'Come on, Shizuka! Don't bother your new family.' It's a little bit humorous, a little bit genuine. The incident ends easily. Shizuka sulks, and looks a little displeased but it's nothing much.
The second incident happens when Giorno is entering the common room from the kitchen—clean, washed, plates in hand. He sees Shizuka by their bags and she's holding something that she really shouldn't be. The blonde immediately sets down the stack of plates—perhaps a bit too hard; they come down with a clatter—and rushes over. He had left that over there..? He need to be more careful. The teen needs to restrain himself from snatching the photo straight out of her hands.
"Please put that down," he tells her.
"Oh," the toddler says, wide eyed. She gives the wallet to him. Giorno tucks it safely into his back pocket. "Who's that?"
"My father," says Giorno, carefully. "His name is Dio."
Shizuka looks at him, blinks. Then she looks a little upset. "Dio? But Dio's that guy! The vampire! Dad always tells me he's very very very bad!" And for a second there's the shadow of a glare on her face. Giorno is sure he's imagined it.
"Well, yes," he ends up saying.
Shizuka looks dully shocked. The blonde really wishes it to end there, but soon enough Mista joins in with; ''Hold up, VAMPIRE!? Then, wait, I knew Dio was shitty 'n all, but, vampire? Wait, then, are you half-vampire!?' In response, Jolyne shrieks. It escalates from there. Not necessarily in a bad way, not in an accusatory way. But in a way that makes Giorno feel incredibly uncomfortable. It only ends when Jotaro shuts them all up. The man states that, 'No, children born of vampires do NOT appear to inherit very many, if any, vampiric traits. Cap it. Jolyne wasn't supposed to hear any of this.'
The awful trend continues from there. When Giorno is pilings deserts onto the table Shizuka places her dish exactly where he was about to place his. Initially, he dismisses this as coincidence, then it happens again, and again. Not in quite the same way—not really. When Giorno tries to move a chair, Shizuka moves it first, when Giorno tries to assist Holly, Shizuka gets to her first.
Giorno hesitates. He's high strung; he's probably reading into it too much. But..?
The blonde has his chance when Shizuka is struggling. She's trying to get some cups from the cabinet. As they are far out of her reach, and the other adults have left the kitchen, Shizuka is attempting to scale the counter to reach her goal. Gently, Giorno puts her back down and retrieves the cups himself. He puts them where she can reach.
The toddler looks up at him. "Uh," her chocolate brown eyes flit away, "Thanks."
"No problem," says Giorno. A pause. Would this not be the perfect time to bring it up? He needs to ask, it's been bothering him far too much. "Hey..." He begins, quietly, "Do you not like me..?"
The toddler blinks. She furrows her, pauses, vigorously shakes her head. "It's...not like that."
Giorno blinks. It wasn't nothing. He had been right. Perhaps not bullseye, but he was right. He wonders if he's done something wrong. Unease crawls beneath his skin. Then again, he hadn't done anything wrong concerning Jolyne. Perhaps he's just high strung.
(Haruno stills.)
"Then," he asks, "what is it?"
The girl looks incredibly troubled, or upset. She glances away, glances black. It's brown on blue. "It's not like I don't like you," she mumbles, "you're nice. But..." Guilt clings to her frame, frustration burdens her voice—a dangerous, explosive edge—"if you're family then that means I'm not!"
With lack of anything else to say, Giorno, startled, asks; "What?"
She shifts uncomfortably and restless on her feet. Her head perks. "This... don't wanna talk about it here. The others are coming." The severity in her voice and the burden on her shoulders is in such stark contrast to the way she lisps her 'R's (sounding more like 'w' than 'r') is enough of a shock to remind Giorno that yes, he's still speaking to a toddler. A serious toddler, but a toddler nonetheless. "Come on," she says, taking his hand in her small, small one, "follow me."
He lets her guide him down the engawa and into some other dark part of the house. They're far away, voices little more than distant chatter. They go farther still. It's almost like a maze, she leads him up some stairs and down a hallway and into a closet, and then kneels down. Shizuka looks at him, looking suspicious. "You have to keep this a secret, okay?" She looks a little worried. "I haven't even showed Jolyne. I'm only showing you cause I was mean and we gotta hide. So they can't find us. Okay? Don't' tell."
"...I won't tell," Giorno says, still a little confused about what exactly he's not supposed to talk about.
And then Shizuka opens up the wall. In the dim light Giorno hadn't seen it, but now he notices that the wall had a small door built into it.
"It's the knee-wall," Shizuka explains, "No one ever goes here, I think everyone forgot it. So now it's my hide out. Come in!" Her little body easily slips through the tiny door.
"Uhm," Says Giorno, unsure of everything. He has a million questions; the one he asks is: "Are you sure I'll fit?" Giorno is not a large person, but he's not a dwarf.
Shizuka's head pops out. "You will! I know it. Come on! It's actually like, really cool in here."
"...Okay." So he comes. It's a tight fit. The door is only the beginning. When he actually manages to squeeze himself inside, the knee-wall is little over three feet tall. He needs to sit down and hunch his back to fit at all. His head still hits against the ceiling. It's dark, so dark it's black.
"I'm turning on the light," Shizuka whispers, and he hears a shuffle, then a click.
It's dim light, but enough. She's lit a little lamp that shines yellow warmth onto everything it touches. In the glow, Giorno can see a whole nest of blankets and pillows and an assortment of oddities. There are pretty rocks in a pile, a dried four-leafed-clover, a photo of a small two-year old Shizuka with her parents. Family drawings. Stars. So, so many stars. There are half-peeling star stickers stuck to the ceiling and the walls, star blankets. Drawings of stars. There's even a star plush.
The star on Giorno's shoulder aches.
"We put a lot of stuff here." Shizuka points behind him. "See?"
The blonde turns around best he can. Indeed, there are tons of boxes, wrapped paintings, little trinkets that look special. Keepsakes, he thinks. Giorno uncomfortably bites his lip. He shouldn't be here.
"Yeah..." he trails off.
"Uhhuh! But this part of the knee-wall wasn't filled. So now it's my hide-out!"
"It's nice," he says. "So you uh...really like stars, huh?"
She nods. "I love them I love mama and dad and everyone and they all..." she trails off. "Stars are really pretty. Have you ever looked at a lot of stars in the sky? I have. They're pretty. I saw a shooting star once, have you?"
Giorno nods, "Yeah, I have." It was when he was younger, when he had black hair and black bruises. It had been a cold night—probably midnight. He was bleeding on his back and didn't want to risk anything else until his stepfather was asleep.
"What'd you wish for?" the girl asks. He doesn't remember what he had wished for. Perhaps he didn't ask for anything at all. But before he can answer, she continues with: "I wished for a star. You know? And blue eyes. Did you know that sometimes people's eye color changes? But my eyes never even look blue at all."
"Oh..." Giorno says, awkwardly. "You mean...A star like this?" Giorno tilts his head, best he can in the cramped space. He tugs down the color of his shirt, fully revealing the star on his shoulder.
Shizuka stares, then her lip trembles. "Yeah, like that. Mama told me it's a birthmark. You have to be made with it. But I wasn't."
It's a little startling. She sounds so sad. Giorno feels awkward. "Uh-huh..."
The girl glares at him, glares at the star on his shoulder. "That's the reason you're here right? Cause you have a star. And stars are special. You can be here cause you have a star."
The blonde feels a bit nauseous. He hopes this isn't going where he thinks it is. He isn't prepared. "Yes..." He says, slowly. "The reason I'm here is because," he contemplates saying because I'm related by blood, but she's only four and he doubts she'll understand—"I have a star."
She bites her lip, squeezes her eyes shut, opens them. They look watery. "See! I knew it! But you see?" She tugs down her shirt. Her shoulder is pale and white and completely bare; devoid of stars or otherwise. "I don't have one!"
Oh, Giorno thinks. He isn't prepared for this. Not at all.
"If you're family cause you have a star, then I'm the one who shouldn't be here! Dad always talks about it to Josuke and Jolyne and everyone, how they gotta do stuff cause they have stars and stars are special. And you see? Stars are special and I don't have one!"
The girl glares at the star on his shoulder with deep chocolate eyes. Giorno can't deal with this. He isn't prepared. He doesn't have a script. He's never been good with these kinds of things. Would she even understand if he tried to explain? Could he even explain?
The star on his shoulder aches and he looks at the photo of a small Shizuka and her parents and he thinks: 'No, no I can't explain. How can I explain something I don't understand myself?' It would be comparable to an art major giving a lecture on quantum mechanics.
Giorno tries to take the easy way out. "Don't worry," he says, attempting to be soothing, "you'll understand when you're older."
There's a moment of silence. Giorno holds his breath. He hopes it works... Then—"No!" The girl erupts. "Don't! Mama and Dad say that all the time. But When I'm older will be in a long long time. I need to know now!"
"Uh," says Giorno, girl doesn't slow.
"Just cause I'm really small doesn't make me not smart! I don't know very many words or stuff but I'm not, like. You get what I mean right?" She asks. "I get a lot of stuff. Dad always talks about 'duty' and 'lini'..." she trails off. "Lini..."
"Lineage?" Giorno offers. The girl nods vigorously.
"That! Lini...anyway. I don't really get what that means but I know it's about stars." She pauses, looks at the stars on the wall, "It's about the family. Dad always tells me stories about us and Great Grandpa Jonathan and how our real name is Joestar. Cause we have stars. But," she hesitates. Biting her lip, she continues; tears well up in her eyes, again. Giorno wonders how long they've been there.
"It's alright," Giorno whispers, gently. He's not very good at comforting people. "You're okay. You're their family even if you don't have a star." He thinks.
Shizuka looks upset at his words. "I already told you though! Family means stars! And the right eyes! No one really talks about it but everyone has either blue or green eyes too. You have like, both? I think. What color are your eyes? My favorite color is blue. Dad has blue eyes, so does Josuke. I have brown ones." She chokes, her eyes are wet. "I hate them. I heard from Jolyne that there's this thing you put in your eye to make them change color. I want it."
She pauses, looks at the stars on the ceiling. "And a tat-something can give me a star. Did you know that?" She's growing more upset by the second. Giorno can only watch. He can't even correct her. She's wrong, he's sure she's wrong. He doesn't know why. Giorno has never trusted feelings that aren't attached to something tangible. "But it's gonna be fake." Her voice is too high, it's a sour note. "Not the same as the star Jolyne has. Jolyne's real. You're real even though no one even gets you."
And she's crying. Giorno should never have come. He shouldn't have come to the reunion. Even if the star on his shoulder is real, he's fake. He's not like the rest of them. He's here because it was, according to Lisa Lisa, their duty to pick him up. He gets that reasoning. It's sound. But he didn't grow up walking these halls. He doesn't have a single shared photo with them. Shizuka has that; it's leaning on the wall just beside them. It wouldn't be right for her not to belong.
(Haruno doesn't belong. He's sure someone will call him out on it.)
There's more to family than blood, Giorno thinks.
"Don't worry," he says, softly. "You belong. I'm sure of it."
She sniffles. "Sorry...I don't actually cry very much," the girl tries very hard not to let out a sob, she fails, "I'm, I-I'm , I usually don't cry..."
"It's okay," the blonde tries to reassure. She's a child. Children cry. It's not fine for him to cry, since he's Giorno Giovanna, but Shizuka is only four years old. She's sad and troubled and feels different. Giorno also feels different. Feeling different is a terrible feeling. "It's okay for you to cry."
It's cramped, but and there isn't much distance between them. Shizuka leans forward and falls into Giorno's lap. Her tears stain the fabric. He can feel salt on his skin. He moves his arm, is clunks against the wall. It's awkward, how his arm fits around her quivering frame. But this is what he's supposed to do, isn't it?
"I'm sorry about earlier," Shizuka manages. "You're really nice. I was being a bully. I actually tried to trip you, even though it didn't work. Sorry." She pauses, looking up at him, eyes red and guilty. "I also purposely mentioned the mafia stuff. I don't really get what mafia is but I know it's something bad. I didn't want anyone to like you, even though you're nice. But if they got you out it'd mean that I don't need a star to stay so I did all that. But you're really nice."
Oh. Giorno winces. That had caused him a lot of strife. But he isn't petty enough to hold grudges against a four year old. At least he now knows his observations were right. "I...don't mind," he manages.
She looks away. "I was also listening to you and Grandma talk. I don't really get what you guys were talking about but she said you're family cause you have a star."
He freezes. "No..." Giorno mumbles. "Not really. She said more than that."
"Like?" Shizuka asks eyes teary and red.
He pauses. "It's more complicated than just stars." Perhaps he doesn't really...understand himself. But he can repeat what he's heard, can't he? It'll be easy. He can do that. "Here...just...listen to me for a bit. You don't have to worry. Just listen to me."
"Okay," the girl sniffles, "I can do that." She moves away, sitting up and composing herself best she can.
Now he has to speak. "Well..." Giorno starts, feeling awkward. This time, he's not completely able to mask the unsure-ness in his voice. "Me having a star only means that I'm...connected, in a way, to you guys. And the connection means they have a responsibility to take care of me. But having a star doesn't really make me family."
"Connection?" Shizuka asks, looking completely confused, "Responsibility? But they all said you're family!" She's looking upset, again. "I don't get it!"
"Um," says Giorno, and he's stumbling blind. "Connection...it's like. Something that binds. Like a thread. You'll understand more in a bit, alright?"
She still looks unsatisfied, but nods. "Okay..."
Giorno nods. "And um. Responsibility is like...something you should do. Like putting your clothes away. Get it?"
"Uh-huh."
"And..." The words are coming unnaturally to Giorno. He's always been good with words; eloquent and precise. Language is an easy front to map. Now they feel thick and clunky and confused on his tongue. "Having a star just means I'm here. I'm connected. You see? But I'm not family in the same way your mom and dad are."
"Oh," Says Shizuka She pauses, her brow furrows, she nods. She still looks a little confused, "Yeah. You're not. That makes a bit more sense. Kind of. But Mama and Dad are family. That's what everyone calls them." She's looking antsy—glancing to the stars on the wall and the photos on the floor. Then back to him. "Then what are you? Everyone calls you family. But you're not like Mama and Dad. I still don't get it!"
Giorno feels the star on his shoulder ache. He's never liked being bound. But it's not quite a binding. He can cut the threads if he tries hard enough. "There are different kinds of family," he says, more out of a vague notion than complete rationality.
"Uh," Shizuka says, sounding confused.
He holds up a hand. "Wait, I'll explain." Explain what, exactly? He shouldn't have tried to even touch the subject. "There's...There's the family between you and Jolyne and your mom and dad, and there's the other kind." He pauses. "The kind I am...a...connection. You know when your shirt gets a loose thread?"
The girl nods. "Yeah, Mama tells me to watch when she sews it back in."
"Yeah," Giorno says, "all loose threads need to be dealt with. Sometimes you cut it off, sometimes you sew it in. Whichever way you choose, it must be dealt with." He is beginning to understand it more now. Paraphrasing Lisa Lisa—putting it in his own words—he's getting it more. He can't put it into words, really. The concepts slip from his grasp like sand—it's terribly frustrating—but they're there. Perhaps that's what really counts. "If I had been a bad person, they would have cut me off. But since I'm a good person—"
"Oh!" Shizuka interrupts. "We're gonna sew you in! And when you're sewn in you become family family! Like Jolyne."
The blonde blinks, nods. "Yeah. I don't think I'll ever become family family, though." Family family—it's far from eloquent and far from precise but it feels like the word—(term?)—Giorno has been looking for. The unnamed element: the aspect that makes 'family' more than blood. He still doesn't understand the specifics, though. He's never really had family family before.
"Oh." Shizuka looks disappointed. "Why? You're nice!"
"Well," says Giorno, 'I don't think I can,' "I don't know if I want to." And they're both true.
(Haruno hesitates at the door of his fifth house.)
"Oh..." She stares at him. "Why? Family family is really nice!"
But Giorno isn't even completely sure what family family is. "I've never had it before," he pauses, "so I don't know."
Shizuka looks at him with wide eyes. "You've never had anyone that loves you? Cause family family is the people that love you, right? And you love them. And stuff. You know? Hugs."
Oh, Giorno thinks, it's that kind of thing. "It is?" Giorno asks, weakly; as lough he's running out of breath.
"Isn't it?" Asks Shizuka. "Isn't that what you're talking about?"
Love. Giorno doesn't really think he understands it. But he thinks he understands reliability and warmth and hugs—and he thinks; Trish, Mista. "Oh." Suddenly family seems so much less of a faraway concept; less of a star in the sky, and more of a low hanging cloud. "I guess," he stumbles over his words, "I guess I know what you're talking about."
"I'm talking about?" The poor toddler looks completely confused. "I thought you were talking about it?"
"I was?" he pauses. Of course. "I was."
"Huh?"
"I think you're teaching me," Giorno blurts, not really thinking. "I, um, I only repeated what Lisa Lisa said, I mean."
"Oh," the girl says a little less confused. "I thought adults know everything..."
"I should have known," Giorno is saying too much. "I didn't really. I think I get it more now. Thank you."
She grins, looking very pleased with herself. "You're welcome!" She giggles, "I can tell Dad that I knew more than an adult."
The blonde freezes. "Don't...don't do that." He doesn't want Joseph—or anybody else for that matter—to know how confused he had been (still is, to some degree,) on the matter. He doesn't want to look foolish.
Shizuka pauses, looks at him with wide eyes. "Then...it's a secret? Okay. I'm really good with secrets. Since you're gonna keep my secret hiding place a secret I'll not say your secret too!"
Giorno nods in relief, "Yeah, definitely."
"Hehe," Shizuka grins. "So now that you get it, you can become family, right?"
"Uh," Giorno responds. No, not at all, he thinks.
Trish and Mista are different. Tucking himself in beside them isn't easy—but it's easier than trying to meld himself into a proper familial setting. The Joestars are more...complicated. Too complicated. He wonders if all families are so complicated. There are so many different threads and things to keep track of. It's too foreign and too difficult. Sometimes Giorno feels the urge to curl in on himself when Mista is too touchy. It's so much worse with the Joestars. He wouldn't be able to stand it.
(Haruno trembles, always trembles. Giorno tries not to.)
Giorno fits into the Joestars like a badly sized puzzle piece. Despite this, he still answers: "I'll...think about it."
The toddler looks delighted at his answer—Giorno doesn't have to heart to take it back. "Okay!" She says, "Make sure you decide to! I really like you. You're nice. Did'ja know that? I think it'd be super nice if you stay."
"Oh..." Giorno says, feeling lightheaded and sounding weak. "Thank you."
"Uh-huh!" The girl nods. Then looks at the wall, then looks at the photo. She frowns.
"What's wrong?" Giorno asks, vaguely worried.
"Um..." Shizuka looks back at him. "I get what you said. Um. I get it." She hesitates. "but what if Dad doesn't?"
Giorno blinks. He thought he—they—had handled this. He isn't suited for this type of thing. Still, this is easier than it was before. He knows the answer to this one. It had only been a little over an hour since he had talked to Joseph, after all. "Just ask him," Giorno says. It can't go wrong.
"Ask!?" Shizuka squeaks.
Giorno nods. "Ask."
She glances away, looks at the stars on the wall. "What if...what if Dad says no?"
"Then you simply explain what you've just learned, isn't that right?" He answers confident. He's back into a position where he does have a plan and does know the answers.
"O...kay..." she nods, still looking unsure.
Giorno smiles, feeling fond. He stretches out a hand—"Let's go." And as he lifts himself, he hears a loud clung and feels pain blossoming on his head. Oh. Right. How stupid of him. They're still in a cramped little knee-wall, with star stickers on the walls and blankets on the floor. A blush burns across Giorno's face, but Shizuka laughs, loud and delighted, and Giorno can't bring himself to think it's all bad.
They crawl out of the knee-wall and walk out of the closet, and make their way down the halls. Giorno can feel Shizuka's nervousness. Down the stairs, out onto the engawa—the toddler stops just short of the common room.
"Don't worry," Giorno whispers.
"Hnn..." Whimpers Shizuka. She shifts on her feet.
The blonde hesitates, looks at her small, unsure figure. Awkwardly, with a clunky kind of movement, he slips his hand into hers. It's so much smaller than his. He squeezes her hand—he's never been very good at comforting people. "Hey, Shizuka," he whispers, not really thinking, "thank you." A pause, the wind blows, it's chilly outside. "You'll catch a cold if we stay out here."
"..." Shizuka shifts on her feet. "Follow me. Don't tell anyone I'm here." And the toddler shimmers out of sight. Giorno can still feel her hand in his. "Open the door," her voice whispers, "I don't wanna do a big thing like Jolyne."
Giorno nods, he feels her hand slip from his. The door slides open. He's greeted by Holly almost the moment he closes the door behind him. "There you are!" the woman exclaims. She looks worried "Have you seen Shizuka? She loves hiding, but desert is out. Shizuka loves desert... Nobody knows where she is. Joseph said that if she's missing for another few minute he'll go and look for her himself..."
"Oh..." Giorno says, feeling guilty. "I'm...um...I'm sure she'll turn up."
Holly nods. "Right...Find yourself a seat...I'm sure desert will be properly served soon.. I don't want you to worry about anything."
Giorno wants to break his promise of secrecy right here and now. But he's never been one to back on his word. Instead, he holds out on the hope that Shizuka would reveal herself soon. "Of course..." He says, leaving as quickly as possible.
As before, the blonde settles himself under the kotatsu. He doesn't need prodding this time. This time, he hardly even thinks about it. Amidst everything, Giorno keeps a special eye on Joseph's rocking chair. The man seems to be increasingly worried. Suzie holds his hand, Lisa Lisa holds his other, and Jotaro grunts that it's impossible to keep track of an invisible kid anyway. Giorno watches, warmth in his fingertips, and thinks; 'Ah, that's what I've been trying to name.'
As Giorno suspects, Shizuka is not long to appear. She shimmers in right beside Joseph, turning the whole scene into a jumble. The girl doesn't wait for anything to calm down.
"Hey Dad," she starts, voice faltering, "am I your family?"
Joseph chokes; Giorno wonders how she can possibly put it so bluntly. He could never—he would dance around the subject; get his answer without ever asking the question. That's what he did when he was talking to Lisa Lisa.
"What?" Joseph manages, sounding startled. "What do you mean? Where have you been? Desert is out."
Giorno can see Shizuka steel herself, she bites her lip. "I mean. I was thinking. You always talk about stars, but I don't have one. So am I family? I think so but do you think so?"
He doesn't know how she does it. She's so young and small and her hand had trembled in Giorno's hold. This would be impossible for him. She's putting herself into the open and laying her fears out for all to see.
"Oh," Joseph says, wide eyed, "Oh...Shizuka. Of course you are. Of course I think so."
The girl's lip trembles and her eyes well up and she hugs her father. Giorno thinks; 'God, she's so brave.'
Ah, but she's crying. That can't be brave. He can't be saying that a four-year-old is braver than he is, in ways. That can't be right. It can't be right. Crying is a weakness and vulnerability is a chink in otherwise pristine armor.
(Haruno tries to stay in the dark; hidden.)
Haruno is weak. Haruno is vulnerable. Giorno is perfect, and Giorno isn't vulnerable. Shizuka is brave and Shizuka is vulnerable. Giorno hates not understanding things.
He tries to ignore it. Desert is finally being served. Shizuka is grinning. Holly no longer looks worried—Giorno no longer needs to feel guilty. Everything is finally good. He doubts there will be any more incidents tonight. He hopes there won't be any more.
Peach cobbler is sweet to the tongue. The thought that he might be wrong is sour on his mind. Jotaro's words still bother him, Shizuka is brave, Giorno doesn't know what to think. Giorno has always hated not understanding things.
Giorno thinks of the star on his shoulder and the warmth in his fingertips and the vulnerability in it all. He can't ignore it.
---
So much for updating early--eh. Well. I hope I could deliver. Initially I approached this chapter with the same kind of mindset as the last two, but that was the wrong way. This chapter is less of a "ONE HUGE BIG EVENT" chapter as a series of scenes that i was hopefully able to strongly tie together by a theme and a certain kind of dynamic. Still... I'm unsure of my exclusion of a "climax"
Because these chapters are so long, and take so long to make, i try and climax every chapter. But?? That doesn't entirely work for this chapter. I hope it was enjoyable either way, though!
I hope the entire bit with Shizuka worked out alright. She was never really expanded much on in canon, so I'm not sure if you guys were very...interested? I suppose is the word. Although really the focus of this chapter is Giorno. I also hope the Lisa Lisa scene didn't come off as too exposition-y...Although i had a lot of fun making that scene, I noticed in my final read through that it kinda felt?? Wrong in a way. Dunno.
As always, I live off your feedback! Anything is welcome. Constructive criticism is very open--or any thoughts in general! This stuff is hard to make so yeah. Your thoughts are appreciated <3