Bloody Golden Butterfly [JJBA Fanfiction] (Giorno x Jolyne)

1. Ain't No Rest For The Wicked

At the age of twelve, the blood of Dio Brando awakened within him. With it, his hair changed and he also manifested a Stand, his whole world turning from dark to gold. At fifteen, he acquired the most powerful Stand of all and took control of Passione. With Italy's underworld under his grip and more power than he knew what to do with, the problems of normal adolescence such as school, puberty, and other bodily changes remained far from the forefront of his mind.

Bigger, taller, golden, and more powerful every day, other gangsters long since stopped laughing when they heard that the Don of Passione was a teenager. When a priest contacted him out of the blue, he didn't find it strange. They were in Italy and these kinds of people were not outside the contacts of the mafia. Enrico Pucci's arrival did not surprise Giorno in the least.

From the priest, he learned a few unexpected, world-shattering pieces of information. The first was that his father had been a vampire; along with this revelation, he also learned of the Joestar family's existence and their role in his father's demise. 

The second was that he had several living brothers. 

And lastly, the third was that his father's blood would turn each of his sons into dhampirs when they grew up.

"Embrace that power. It wouldn't do you good to reject it," Pucci had advised him.

To that, Gold Experience Requiem had materialized beside him and asked the priest if he seemed to be someone lacking in power. The priest's eyes shined and his tone almost changed to one of reverence. He informed Giorno that he had already encountered his brothers, but he was the first that Pucci saw as truly worthy of Dio's legacy. Even if Giorno did not want to accept it, he would still receive it with open arms when the time came.

"You're the heir of DIO, I have no doubt about that. My faith in Lord DIO was strong, as strong as your powers. Come to me when you are ready, young master. I will be awaiting you with your family."

Going with him was something Giorno didn't even think worth considering, but that didn't mean he wasn't curious about his brothers and the Joestars. He recalled that young Japanese man who he had stolen from at the tender age of 15, who'd also assisted him in taking down Black Sabbath during his trial into Passione. The man had put him in contact with the Speedwagon Foundation; he supposed that if he looked for them, he could find them. And he did just that. This time, however, it was not the nice, short Japanese man who paid him a visit.

This man happened to also be Japanese, but that's where the similarities ended. Giorno had admittedly gotten used to intimidating people with his tall stature, but unbelievably, the envoy actually had a few inches on him. And he was most certainly not friendly or cheerful.

"Dr. Kujo, welcome to Rome," he greeted him in perfect English. "Imagine my surprise when I heard that one of the directors had come personally. Please, have a seat."

"It shouldn't really come as a surprise when you're the one who reached out to us," Dr. Kujo replied harshly. "Hirose told me you could be trusted, Mr. Giovanna. And yet I hear that you're the boss of the Italian mafia?"

"Signore Hirose was correct. But indeed, I am the boss of the Italian mafia."

"Then you'll understand when I say it's difficult to trust you—to believe that you're not like your father in these circumstances or that you don't deserve the same ending," Dr. Kujo said in a cold tone. "But I want to believe in Koichi, and I'd rather not repeat what I had to do to your father."

Gold Experience Requiem manifested itself protectively behind its master. Like always, its substantial power filled the room, but that didn't seem to faze Dr. Kujo much. His green eyes were piercing, their depths seeming to convey promises of his end or something even worse. A fate worse than death—Giono should know. Despite GER's invincibility, an imperceptible chill crawled down Giorno's spine.

"When I was 17, my mother came down with a deadly illness because of your father. I traveled with my grandfather and some friends to Egypt to deal with him. During that time, he murdered a lot of innocent people. I killed him because he was a monster that stole the body of my great-great-grandfather and his existence only brought pain and suffering to every soul, innocent or not, that crossed in his path. Are you like your father, Mr. Giovanna?"

"The only thing I know about my father is... this." He took out an old photo from his wallet. The man in the photo was DIO, the scar around his neck distinguishing him from the body of Jonathan Joestar. "I don't want to be like my father, not only because he was a monster—that is, if I choose to believe you—but also because I never even knew him. And if what you say is indeed true, then I don't want to know more. I want to clean the streets of drugs, and for this, I need the power of Passione. Someone said to me once that the Joestars are my blood relatives. But now, after meeting you, I know that I'm better off without a family, as has always been the case."

If speaking honestly, the meeting was... awful, but Dr. Kujo granted him permission to call the SWF any time. If he was a son of Jonathan Joestar, then he had a right to. While years passed before Giorno thought of Jotaro Kujo again, his long-lost brothers crossed his mind every now and then. He couldn't help but think of his own childhood, his stepfather's beatings and his mother's neglect, and connect his experience to what he imagined was theirs. Had they had better luck with finding a family, or had they lived like him, feeling nothing until the day he met Bruno?

Passione was his family now, and Mista and Fugo were a better family than his mother or his stepfather had ever been. Heck, even Abbacchio had been a better father figure than his stepfather. He often thought about Bruno too. He knew that much of what he had done was abominable but necessary and he didn't regret most of it, but the death of Bruno Bucciarati brought a stab of guilt he couldn't get rid of.

But he was a busy man, and he didn't even have time to get sick. Well, until he did one day. As if the priest's words were a prophecy, the day before his twentieth birthday, he was overtaken by a strange fever that even GER seemed to have no control over. Perhaps it would have been more traumatic if it hadn't been expected. His skin looked paler and his teeth were slightly more pointed, but at least the sun didn't kill him. He noticed that he was no longer feeling as pleasant as before, but the feeling was far from killing him.

He had three options on deck.

The first was to keep from talking to anyone outside and to seek everything he could by his own means. It was only unfortunate that Passione's great power and means didn't extend to supernatural knowledge.

The second option was to seek the Speedwagon Foundation, a group that had top experts in these matters. He recalled Dr. Kujo's icy eyes as he spoke about killing his father, not bothered by how he might feel. Well, he was the mob boss, Don Giovanna; it shouldn't matter to him.

The final option was the priest. The one who had met his father and claimed to be with the rest of his family, the one who had invited him to embrace his destiny.

The phone number was long, as was anyone's on an international call; more than enough numbers to regret and to stop dialing. But the resolve that used to fill his spirit was unwavering. On the other end of the line, the priest was more than happy to answer his call.

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A collab between me and EskarinaSforza. 

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