Chapter Text
4/02/2029
Italy
Morning
The countryside of Italy was beautiful. It really was. The rolling hills were great and all, not that Viale cared. He’d seen it his whole life. Endless fields and farms stretching across the sea of green. He leaned against the window of the sedan and watched as they drove past the farmers breaking their backs in the fields.
𝅘𝅥𝅮 - Stardust Man Appears
Gioviale stood at a respectable 182 centimetres tall, broad-shoulders framing his lithe body well. His face, symmetrical and dreadfully handsome, as if it could’ve been sculpted by an artist, at least that was what young women told each other at school about him. He had piercing sea-blue eyes that, when looked at from the right angle, appeared to have lime-green accents. His hair - much like his father’s - was naturally blond, but more a dirty blond rather than golden. Viale was often told that he looked like his father, and whilst he agreed to an extent, he found they were too different to be called ‘similar’.
The sun was rising - he had to get up early for the trip. It was certainly picturesque, but familiarly boring. He caved and pulled out his mobile phone. He’d been trying to avoid using it the whole trip as he was prone to getting carsick. There wasn’t a reason to be on his phone. He had no one to text; his only contacts were his mother and father - the latter couldn’t answer of course, as he was driving the car.
Speaking of which, his father looked in the rear-view to see his son nose-deep in reading the world news. “Look out the window, Gioviale,” he suggested as if that wasn’t what he had been doing for the past five hours. Viale glanced up at his father, whose golden-braided hair was reflecting the morning sun into the car. The years had been very kind to his father. Although he was forty-four this year, he looked as if he was in his late twenties. Viale didn’t understand where he got those kinds of genes from - maybe his grandfather’s side? He had met his mother’s family, and they scarcely looked young for their age.
“This scenery is all the same, father. The only interesting thing I’ve seen was when we passed through Florence and saw that dog doing the thing.” Viale knew his father had the resources to fly to Venice, but understood that he wasn’t worth the fuel cost.
“That’s not the point, Gioviale,” his father explained, “the point is that you see what other people have to do to get what you’re about to have.”
His father had barely explained why he was moving; he had to figure out why himself. Viale figured it had something to do with the shouting match his father had with this ‘Uncle Pol’ he always talks to on the phone a few nights ago. His father had told him ‘Uncle Pol’ isn’t actually his uncle, but that’s all he had ever gotten out of him.
Viale was pulled out of school yesterday urgently by his mother - she looked as if she had just found out she lost €1,000,000 and shat her pants consecutively. Grace was usually quite collected - similar to her husband. What had happened to make her this frantic must’ve been well and truly bad.
The car jeered to a stop. His father had taken a wrong turn, having to put the car on a dirt path between two roads. Viale looked through the windshield to see that the road that the car was about to trudge through could barely be considered a “road”.
“Hold on, son, this one’s going to be rough,” he warned. The car staggered over the bumps, one at a time, seemingly always on an angle, while each bump never aligned with another. The inside of the car felt like an earthquake had hit indiscriminately. Viale found himself holding onto whatever he could to stay grounded, which included a thin, long briefcase, whose clips holding it together were not doing their job.
𝅘𝅥𝅮 - Approach
Squeezing the briefcase with all of his might have made its contents ever-so-slightly slip out of the length’s seams, and into Viale’s forefinger.
To say it hurt like a bitch would do the silver edge a severe disservice. Viale let out a gut-wrenching scream of agony as the bladed edge sliced almost clean through his left pointer, seemingly phasing through even his bone and muscle. He thrashed around the backseat, writhing in pain before his hand left the edge.
After hearing his son scream bloody murder, his father slammed the brakes on his car, and whipped his head around to see his son out of breath, and sweating profusely. He examined the creased briefcase, which unfortunately had a gold and silver arrow pointing out of it. His father hastily unbuckled his seatbelt and rushed around to Viale’s car door.
“What the bloody hell was that?!” Viale screamed at his father. Viale looked down to see his finger perfectly normal, perfectly in place - barring a large scar across one of his joints. His father got up from the car door to look over the field where he had stopped the car.
~~~
Earlier that week
Giovanna Estate
𝅘𝅥𝅮 - Imada Nokoru Shukumei
“What do you mean they’re making moves! Of course, they are making moves!” Giorno rarely raised his voice. It had been a long day for Giorno Giovanna. His subordinates had been yammering to him all day about ‘politics this’ and ‘profit that’, but when Jean-Pierre Polnareff had told him that some rival gang had started making trouble near Gioviale’s school, he finally lost his cool. Giorno’s lavish office, with his favourite chair and replica Mona Lisa hanging over the fireplace, had recently been filled with piles upon piles of complaints from the good citizens of Naples who found traces of narcotics on the streets. “I have held control of this city for decades, and we are all but folding to these lowlifes?! Where’s the resolve? Where’s the commitment? What happened to being the goddamn mob?”
“I get what you mean, boss, but these new recruits just aren’t like your old gang. They don’t have Stands.” As always, the man in the tortoise (who insisted it was a turtle) was a voice of reason. That’s why he was appointed concierge to the Don of Passione, after all. Jean-Pierre Polnareff, being a ghost, had not aged a bit since he found himself inside Coco Jumbo.
“So what do you suggest I do?”
“You could get in the field yourself? No one can stand up to GER .”
“That’s not what I mean, Jean-Pierre,” Giorno corrected, “I mean what do I do about enemy gang members creeping around Gioviale’s school? He can’t defend himself.”
“Ah, that boy. He reminds me of an old friend - and when I say old, I mean old. He’s probably dead by now,” Polnareff adopted a reminiscing face but noticed that Giorno was still expecting an answer, “I mean, the man he reminds me of was a great fighter, so why not let Viale fight? He certainly has inherited the potential from you.”
“Yes, I have considered giving my son a Stand,” Giorno pondered, “But we both know all too well that giving him an ability would just make him attract more danger.”
“Stand users attract other stand users. It is a fact.” Polnareff agreed, “But. He is a 17-year-old boy. He’s two years older than you were when you joined Passione. Maybe…”
“...Maybe he should know what I do for a living.” Polnareff nodded in acknowledgment, “Maybe I should let him grow.”
~~~
“I’m sorry about that, son,” Giorno Givanna began, “that was meant to be a surprise keepsake for your time away.”
“Why is it so sharp, then? Were you going to give me a weapon?” Viale was all but screaming at his father.
“I apologise. It has a certain value to me. But if you are not harmed, there’s no cause for concern.” Giorno explained. It was a moment of weakness for the Boss of Passione. He did not expect his son to come into contact with the beetle arrow so soon; he expected he would use it when unpacking his things at his new school. “Let’s get back on the road for now.”
Giorno closed Viale’s car door and returned to the driver’s seat further up the car. In his head, Viale questioned, eloquently, what the fuck was going on. He had always known his father was not the hotshot banker he portrayed himself as. The life the Giovanna’s lived was a smidgen too opulent for a simple banker. Viale constantly reminded himself that his father hadn’t done anything to merit the suspicion, barring the small things. These ‘small things’ included just how aloof Giorno Giovanna liked to act. He never got genuinely mad unless, on the off chance, someone harmed his family. His constant resolve to become a better man was commendable to most, but to Viale, who loved him unconditionally, it seemed off for someone who says they are a simple accountant.
There were a few occasions - mostly when Viale was younger - when someone confronted his father about ‘work’. Whenever this happened, his father told Viale and his mother to leave Giorno and the instigator to ‘talk’. Deep down, Viale knew his father’s work was dirtier than it seemed.
The car throttled alive once again as Giorno turned onto the road he was meant to be on a few minutes ago.
~~~
Outside Master’s Academy
Midday
𝅘𝅥𝅮 - Morioh in the Early Afternoon
The two stood outside the establishment, one nervous, the other Giorno. The elder took initiative and started forward through the gates. The grandiose stone-laden sign bolted to the tall fence read ‘ Accademia Magistrale ’, the boarding school Gioviale Giovanna would be staying in for the foreseeable future. Viale followed Giorno from a few paces behind, making sure to not get too close. Viale wheeled his luggage in a two-wheel roller suitcase, which also included the case with some kind of weapon in it, up the small number of steps that lead to the front office.
The school was in the heart of Marghera, Venice. Though the famous part of Venice was across the bay, with Air Supplena Island just past that, it was still within walking distance from the school. There were few canals in this part of town, it maintained its Venetian look.
The school itself was luxurious in its own right. From what Viale could see, the office was just the front of the school. It seemed that there were three stories in the section behind the front office - no doubt an expensive establishment. The building overall looked as if it once had a light blue finish of paint over the walls of the building, but it had obviously faded away with the year’s weathering. Despite this, the school retained its high-class sheen.
To the right of the main building stood another, just as sturdy as the main. Judging by the sheer amount of windows on the side of the building Viale could see, that was where the ‘boarding’ part of ‘boarding school’ came from. Unlike the main building, the dorm was white, with blue-ish accents on the corners.
Giorno and Viale approached the revolving door to the office. Entering the space proper, Viale could see where the money was being put to use. A pair of chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, fresh carpet smell assaulting Viale’s nostrils, a few hands flying across keyboards in the background. There was one lady at the front desk, dressed in what looked like the staff’s uniform. Seeing movement, she looked up to greet the two Giovanna’s.
“ Buongiorno, signore . Welcome to Master’s Academy. Do you have an appointment?” She looked at Giorno, seeing as he looked like the father. Giorno smiled.
“Of course. We are here for a tour.” Giorno glanced away to look towards a couple of empty seats beside the receptionist. “Are you the only one here today?”
“No, sir, the other people that sit here are teaching right now,” the receptionist responded. “Can I have your name for the visitor’s book?”
“Giorno Giovanna, at your service.” Giorno held his hand out to the woman, who giggled behind her hand and gave him the other.
“Of course, sir,” she stood up from her seat, “you and your… son? You and your son will have a tour from il mio capo , the school principal.”
Giorno stiffened slightly at the word capo but regained his composure just as fast as he lost it. “You speak of Datore Esposito, no?”
“Yes, Mr Giovanna, he and his best friend, Mr. Scudiero Mercurio, now the Head of the Board, have been running this school since 2001.”
“2001, huh,” Giorno muttered to himself.
𝅘𝅥𝅮 - Italian Restaurant
“Right this way, sirs. Professore Esposito will be waiting for you in his office.” The receptionist stood up gracefully, as she led the two out from the office and up a decorated flight of stairs to their right. Viale could see that this design was mirrored on the other side of the office, so it didn’t look as if it mattered which stairs they went up.
On the second floor of the office stood a peculiar sort of space. Movie posters littered the wall, some simply stuck up with blu-tack, some framed in A3 portraits. There were some famous films on these walls: Jurassic Park, The Blues Brothers, The Avengers, to name a few. Oddly enough, a good amount of these movies were sequels, sequels without the predecessor, like Home Alone 2, Iron Man 2, and Ghostbusters 2 .
In the middle of the room sat a frail-looking middle-aged man at his desk. His hair was greying with a few remaining accents of brown from his younger years. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, judging by the shopping bags under his eyes. His suit was pressed, sleek, and fitted perfectly. Despite his physical condition, he was well put-together.
As the receptionist approached the man’s desk, she turned to Giorno and bowed. “I hope you enjoy your tour.”
“ Grazie ,” Giorno nodded as the lady walked back down stairs. Giorno moved to greet the man that was obviously the principal, “ Buongiorno, my name is Giorno Giovanna, and this is my son, Gioviale. It is good to finally meet you.”
“I feel the same way, Signor Giovanna,” Principal Esposito greeted, “and you, too, Gioviale, I’ve heard great things about you.”
This was the first time anyone had directly spoken to Viale at the school, so he was caught a bit off-guard and sputtered, “Hmm? Uh, yeah, nice to you, sir.”
“Thank you for accepting our request, sir,” Giorno saved Viale from having to socialise. Viale was not out of the woods yet, as Giorno shot him a look that told him to pay attention.
“Well, it is a rare occurrence for someone to want to transfer mid-term, but for someone as high a status as yourself, I just had to oblige.” Viale considered what that meant for a second, as he thought a banker surely wouldn’t have a reputation such as the man was proclaiming.
“I apologise for such short notice, but you understand what my situation is,”
“Of course, of course,” as Esposito stood up, Viale could see that even he was taller than the man, but perhaps that was because the man was constantly slouching, “now let’s get on with the tour, shall we?”
~~~
𝅘𝅥𝅮 - Stardust Man Appears
“...and this is where we study our sciences,” Principal Esposito explained. Overall, Viale found it all unnecessary. Viale found that he learnt things better on the spot and with a hands-on approach.
As he walked down the hall, he could see that there were, in fact, students in class. They were studying studiously, listening to the teacher when needed. The three continued down the hall, occasionally stopping in front of a subject’s office. “In this school, we have two classes per year that students fill depending on who has class in that period,” He produced a sample timetable from his inside coat pocket, “as you can see here, a student could be in Senior Maths B, then right after be in Senior Literacy A. This system allows the students to pick and choose what subjects they want to take on, and they’ll be sorted into that class.”
Esposito continued, “Speaking of which, we have quite the maths department; Mr Augustus Zeppeli is one of our newest and talented teachers. All of the students love him. In fact, he attended this school a number of years ago.”
Giorno hummed, “I’ve read plenty of your high achievers, Mr Esposito. What I’m concerned about is if I made the right choice in choosing to send my only son to your establishment.”
Esposito slightly withdrew into his collar, a little frightened by the blond, “Well, you see, that’s up to what Gioviale wants to gain out of his education. Sir.”
“That’s a good answer,” Giorno responded, “Well, Gio? What would you hope to gain from this place?”
Viale considered the question. What did he want? A normal life? An education? Maybe perhaps comradery?
Viale looked at his father, and decided honesty was the play. “I… don’t have any dreams for this place, really.”
~~~
Master’s Academy
Afternoon
Viale opened the ornate door to see someone’s belongings splayed out across his room. It seemed that there were two per room in this dormitory. Not that he was told that beforehand, but it made sense in hindsight. He walked over to his side of the room, where his new roommate had ‘claimed’ his ownership. Viale chose this side of the room because there was obviously less ‘claiming’ happening on that side of the room. The messy one was seemingly absent from the area for the time being.
The dorm room wasn’t anything special. Other than the fancy door, everything was rather normal. Two beds on opposite walls, a chest of draws between the two, with four columns on each side. At the foot of each bed laid a chest each, and a bit in front of them, a pair of desks.
Viale was tired. While he didn’t do anything overtly physical - only having to move his suitcase around - the exhausting car ride and the weird thing in his fathers’ case had pretty much drained him of all his will.
Just as Viale went to sit down on the only thing not covered by junk, the desk in his corner of the room, he found himself falling back through the desk itself - or at least that’s what he thought was happening. In actuality, he was moving into the top of the desk.
𝅘𝅥𝅮 - Vita
Viale yelped as he started falling faster, more of his torso and legs being swallowed by the surface of the desk. Just as he was nearly fully into the desk, his left hand shot out from inside and grabbed the corner of the table. His right hand, however, was stuck frantically flailing around half-inside the table.
Then, something grabbed Viale by the arm.
To Be Continued ===>