18 SETTEMBRE 2000, 15:16 CEST

MILANO, ITALIA

It was the middle of the afternoon, and, so far, none of them had blown anything up or had done anything illegal during their day out.

So far, so good.

The three teenagers exited a deli shortly after Mista insisted on everyone getting a bite to eat. Though, to be fair, Fugo had reason to suspect this was largely due to Sex Pistols being rather...adamant about needing a lunch break.

If Fugo didn't know better, he'd say that he felt drawn to the music store across the street for some reason.

But that was ridiculous, and somehow also completely valid.

They walked inside, all three of them somewhat curious about the place. The business establishment, called "Cannoli Music Shoppe", was large and spacious, with various corridors and housed various string instruments on the walls ranging from contrabasses to cellos to violins, violas, and acoustic and electric guitars. There were also other instruments present, along with music books, cassettes, CDs, accessories, and vinyls.

Speaking of vinyls…

Narancia held up an Aretha Franklin record, eyes lighting up. "Can I get this for Bucciarati's birthday?"

Bucciarati's birthday...

"Merda. I forgot his birthday was coming up," Fugo admitted, facepalming. "Yeah, you can get it."

Given how much of a clusterfuck this mission has become, that had honestly slipped my mind.

"When's Bucciarati's birthday again?" Mista asked.

"The 27th."

"I guess we need to do some cramming in terms of shopping, then," the gunslinger responded. "You know Bucciarati better than I do, Fugo. What does he like?"

"As far as music goes, jazz and soul," Fugo responded. "Miles Davis is his favourite, but he's already got all of his stuff on vinyl." He gave Mista a reassuring look. "It's the thought that counts, really. Whatever you think about getting him, I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

Mista smiled. "Thanks, man."

"Of course."

They continued browsing through the store as piano music played. The three spent most of the next few minutes looking through vinyl reco-

Huh?

There it was again. Some sort of strange gravitational pull was present, stronger this time, yet similar to the one that had led the three teenagers to that fateful parking garage.

"Do you feel that?" Fugo asked.

Narancia and Mista gave him a quizzical look. "Feel what?" Mista asked.

"I don't feel anything," Narancia added.

Piano music continued to sound, transitioning into a different, lyrical song a moment or so later.

"Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup. They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe…"

"Fugo?" Narancia asked curiously.

The white-haired gangster blinked, feeling the melody tugging at his soul, almost hypnotising him, telling him to go somewhere. "I'm gonna see where that music is coming from. I'll be right back."

"Alright," Mista acknowledged. "We'll go pay for this."

Fugo nodded, turning around and allowing the music to pull him to...wherever the hell it was coming from.

"...Nothing's gonna change my world. Nothing's gonna change my world..."

Fugo walked down the corridor, recognising the song as Across the Universe by The Beatles. This particular rendition was hauntingly beautiful, as he could hear the emotion being poured into a minor key at a significantly slower tempo.

"Images of broken light, which dance before me like a million eyes, they call me on and on across the universe. Thoughts meander li-ike a restless wind inside a letterbox. They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe…"

Fugo broke into a run, turning left several metres later into a large practice room devoid of sunlight, the melody pulling his soul like a magnet to its source as he skidded to a halt only a few metres away.

"Sounds of laughter, shades of life, are ringing through my opened ears, inciting and inviting me-e. Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns, it calls me on and on, across the unive-e-erse…"

Helena.

The vampire was sitting at a grand piano, her beautiful (if haunting) contralto pulling Fugo forward like a siren luring unsuspecting men to their deaths as she sang and her hands danced across the keys.

"Jai Guru Deva, Om. Nothing's gonna change my world. Nothing's gonna change my world. Nothing's gonna change my world. Nothing's gonna change my world. Jai Guru Deva, Jai Guru Deva, Jai Guru Deva, Jai Guru Deva, Jai Guru Deva, Jai Guru Deva..."

The final chords played, and the teenager was pulled out of his trance.

Maybe I should just go.

He turned around, preparing to walk out the door.

"Ciao, Panna."

Fugo froze. He didn't know how to react. Part of him wanted to flee, but another was frozen by the lingering effects of the vampire's melody. A third part was genuinely curious about her.

"You...you play piano," he stammered, turning back around to face her.

"I've been playing for about nine years now," Helena said simply. "I usually come here to destress if I'm not in the mood for vandalising shit." She smiled. "I know the owners pretty well; they've been letting me come in here and practice ever since I was in undergrad. They've also been very understanding about the whole 'vampire' thing, and they were able to accommodate me since daylight means I kinda have to crash here until the sun goes down."

Fugo nodded. "I also play piano," he admitted. "Albeit I haven't had much time to practice since I joined Passione."

Helena relinquished her seat, gesturing for Fugo to take her place at the piano instead. "Want to have a go?"

That doesn't sound like such a bad idea. "Sure."

Fugo sat on the piano bench, scooting forward to reduce the distance due to his slightly shorter height. Helena was only about two to three centimetres taller than him, but it was still enough to warrant the seat adjustment.

Now, what piece shall I play that isn't boring or too long?

Fugo inhaled, then exhaled slowly. In a matter of seconds his hands were engaged in the muscle memory of Claude Debussy's La Cathédral Engloutie. He hadn't played this particular song in months, but he still remembered the beautifully slow, haunting melody within the short piece.

If short counted as about six or seven minutes, that is.

Fugo lost himself in the music for a bit, almost regretting that it had to end. He let his hands linger slightly above the keys for a few seconds after the song concluded, noticing a somewhat melancholy expression reflected on his face from the Steinway's polished finish.

The soft sound of hands clapping caused him to yank his gaze away from the piano. He turned, seeing Helena applauding his performance.

"That was beautiful," she said sincerely.

Fugo found himself blushing. "Grazie," he acknowledged, feeling a bit self-conscious. "I'm a little bit out of practice, though."

"It still sounded good."

There was a bit of an awkward silence. Helena cleared her throat after a moment. "Well, I guess I should let you get back to Mista and Narancia. No need to worry them."

Fugo raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that they're here?"

I certainly never told you.

"Vampires have heightened senses," Helena explained. She pointed to her nose. "All three of you have your own unique smells." The vampire blinked. "I hope that didn't sound too weird."

Fugo shook his head. "Nah, you're good. Mista talks about much weirder shit all the time."

"FUGO?"

Mista's voice rang in the hallway. Fugo sighed. "Speak of the Devil."

Helena smiled. "Time to get going."

Fugo nodded, turning around to exit.

"And...Panna?"

He turned around, facing Helena. The vampire's expression was gentle. "It was good talking with you."

Fugo felt a blush return to his face. "Yeah...y-you too."

He left the practice room, taking a deep breath as he walked back to his friends.

That was...weird.

Fugo shrugged, walking down the hallway.

I don't understand this at all.

"Ah, Fugo, there you are," Narancia said a moment later. "Mista and I were worried you'd gotten lost or something."

Fugo gave him a small smile. "Nah; I was just watching someone play the piano."

"Gotcha," Mista accepted. "Anyway, Bucciarati texted us a few minutes ago. Apparently he wants us to meet him at...the world's most famous shopping district."

"He means the Quad," Narancia clarified.

Mista looked as though he was going to go ballistic. "Don't say that name, Narancia! It's got four written into it! I don't care if it's the high-end fashion area! I will not refer to it by a tetraphilic nickname!"

"Suit yourself."

"Just say either Quadrilatero d'Oro, Quadrilatero della moda, or the Via Montenapoleone fashion district," Fugo retorted. "It's still the same place."

"Whatever," Mista responded. "I don't care, so long as there aren't only four of us there."

"It'll be hundreds of times that, more than likely." But Fugo let the conversation drop at that.

The three walked back to the metro station, checking the map for the route that would take them to Quadrilatero d'Oro. Afterwards, they walked to the platform on the designated line, waiting for their train to arrive. Fugo tuned out one of Mista's random conversations with Narancia (something about fishnet tights and actual fishnets), looking at the directory as the platform started to become more and more crowded. However, his focus was not on the text that said when x train would be arriving at x platform.

This is the third time I've felt some strange gravitational pull connecting me and Helena. I know Stand users tend to attract Stand users, but on this level? Is this normal? And why weren't Mista and Narancia affected the way I was? It doesn't add up.

What the hell is happening?

"So, what do you think, Fugo?"

Fugo looked at Mista, jerking back to awareness. "Sorry. What was the question?"

The gunslinger grinned. "What kind of fishnets would you need to make fishnet tights? Narancia thinks tiny fishnets. I think the industrial size. What about you?"

Fugo shrugged. "Whatever's sexy enough to catch a fish, I suppose."

Narancia snickered. "Valid."

Mista let out a soft hmmm. "But that begs the question: What would be sexy enough to catch a fish?"

"Ask Bucciarati," Narancia suggested. "He grew up fishing."

Mista beamed. "I'll do that."

Fugo gently facepalmed, already imagining how well that conversation was going to go. "Oh God."