Mista trusted Giorno.

Enough to let him potentially kill his entire arm all for the sake of a theory that hadn't even been tested before.

It was strange, now that he thought about it. He knew he'd trusted him, but he hadn't said it aloud, had he? Not really, not for something as serious as this. He'd only known Giorno less than a week, only six days in total, but it felt like the blond had been there for over a lifetime. Mista thought of him as indispensable, he realized. And now that Giorno was in his life, he never wanted to experience life without him.

The encouraging smile he wore as he gazed at the handsome blond must have been pretty strong because Giorno's worry seemed to fade from his features when he met Mista's eyes.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Bucciarati, ever the voice of reason, asked. "Giorno, it's not that I don't believe in your ability but… the risk is so high…"

"I'm confident," Giorno answered and his voice was firm. "As long as Mista trusts me, I'm certain I can do this."

"Hey, if ya mess up, we'll just chop it off and grow me a new one, right?" Mista joked, although he wasn't too keen on that idea to be honest. Giorno smirked as Bucciarati just sighed and shook his head in exasperation.

"I'm going to get the first aid kit from the car," he said as he straightened up. "After you finish, we'll tend to your head, Giorno. And then you can help the others," Bucciarati added, noticing the way Giorno was ready to object and argue that the rest of the group needed attention first.

Bucciarati walked off, making a beeline for Abbacchio first and rounding up the man as the pair headed off towards the front of the smoldering remains of the building. Trish had drifted over to Fugo and Narancia and the trio seemed to be speaking amongst themselves quietly about something. Probably about Fugo, if Mista thought about it.

"Are you ready?"

Giorno's voice brought Mista's attention back and he turned to make eye contact with the blond. He swallowed thickly before giving a firm nod, trying to ignore the fear roiling around in his gut. Trusting Giorno was one thing but dealing with that pain again was another. He wasn't looking forward to it.

"If you're going to scream, I can find you something to bite down on," Giorno said, sensing his hesitation. Mista shook his head.

"Nah, I can handle it. You just caught me off guard last time, that's all," he grinned. "I'm too manly for that, you'll see." He raised his arm and flexed his muscles which was a mistake because the way the blistered, dead skin pulled made him yelp in pain.

Giorno rolled his eyes but he was smiling fondly as he settled onto the ground by Mista's left side and reached out to touch his arm gently, lifting it up to examine it as Gold Experience emerged next to him. With one last nervous glance at Mista, he focused his attention back on the skin and the cold touch of Gold Experience reaching through Giorno's fingers alighted against his flesh.

He didn't feel anything at first, which sorta made sense when he thought about how it was dead already. And then, as the blisters seemed to ripple across his forearm and up to his shoulder, the layers of flesh brushed against his sore muscles and intense, fiery pain followed.

Mista ground his teeth as he threw his head back, holding back his screams so that only high-pitched whimpers escaped. He couldn't decide which was more embarrassing, that or just plain screaming. Inhaling sharply as his arm seemed to grow a life of its own, he looked back down to see small bubbles appearing atop the blister, bursting out of it into the air and popping with small hissing noises as liquid oozed out of it.

"It's the fluid that was trapped under the blister," Giorno explained quietly. "I can't do anything with it but help it escape outwards."

It was honestly disturbing to look at as the flesh of his arm rippled and shifted and bubbled as it somehow attached itself, life forcibly pushed back into the cells. It reminded him kinda of the monster movies he'd watched when he was little on TV with his siblings and had nightmares afterward about them. But if he focused on watching the process happen, it made the pain slightly more bearable.

If he had to compare it to something, it was like being burned all over again. As the fluid was forced out, the skin was dried and heated up again and while it revitalized, the way the cells expanded and swelled hurt like he'd never felt before.

But it was working.

At least he thought it was. Maybe not? He wasn't Giorno, he didn't know. But the blond seemed like he was satisfied with the whole process and Mista wasn't gonna complain about the pain if it was working well enough.

Which was getting worse, if the way white dots were flicking across his vision was any indication. They mixed with the stars above them as he looked up and made it seem as though they were crashing down to earth. It was pretty, he thought dazedly, and wondered if Giorno would think so too.

He must've blacked out for a moment because the next thing he noticed was that he was lying on his back staring up at the night sky as Giorno looked worriedly down at him.

"Mista? Are you alright?"

"Wha happ'nd?" he slurred, trying to push himself upright as his vision swam again. Giorno placed a hand over his chest and gently pushed him back down.

"You passed out," he explained slowly and Mista wanted to say that he didn't need to treat him like he was five but if Giorno talked any faster, Mista wasn't sure if he'd process it all or not. "Luckily I was almost done or you might've hurt yourself further when you fell back. It's a perfectly normal response after practically losing a limb; I was the same when I grew new arms for myself."

"I lost it?" Mista asked in confusion. He thought he'd remember if they had to chop the arm off.

"Well, more like half of it, I suppose," Giorno said. "The burn went much deeper than I had thought, all the way to your subcutaneous tissue; we're lucky I treated it when I did or it might have begun to necrotize."

"I dunno what that means but sounds bad," Mista agreed as he raised his arm up to look at it. He didn't think he'd ever get used to seeing Gold Experience's work firsthand; it was like a miracle. His arm looked nearly perfect, if not a little pink and blotchy, but he figured that was normal for revitalized dead stuff. Probably. Not like he had experience in that field.

"I tried to make it look as close to your normal skin color as I could," Giorno said, sounding like he felt almost guilty for some reason, "but it might not match fully, so I'm sorry for-"

"Oh no, don't you fuckin' dare apologize," Mista stopped him before he could get another word out as he fixed Giorno with a glare. "Dude. You fixed my arm. I don't give a shit about what color it is now; it could be purple for all I care. Seriously, Giorno. Thank you."

Giorno fell silent and averted his gaze and it took Mista a moment to realize the younger boy was embarrassed. This time when he sat up, he was careful to move slowly and blink the dizziness from his eyes as he pulled Giorno into a hug. When it was returned, Mista grinned and reached up to ruffle the boy's hair, careful to avoid the cut near the base of Giorno's hairline.

"I see it worked then?"

That was Bucciarati's voice and they both pulled apart to see the capo approaching them with a soft smile on his face, Abbacchio trailing after him with his arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face.

"Yes," Giorno confirmed and it didn't take an idiot to hear the pride in his voice as he verified this. Bucciarati's smile widened and he reached out to pat Giorno on the shoulder and it was so domestic that Mista once again wondered how Bucciarati truly felt about his title as the mom of the group.

Mista flexed his arm as Bucciarati set the first aid kit down and began to rifle through it for bandages and antiseptic. Abbacchio rolled his eyes but stepped closer anyways, inspecting the freshly-healed skin with an air of curiosity and skepticism.

"Hmm," was all he said but Mista knew that was approval and he flashed Giorno a thumbs up. The blond didn't seem as sure as Mista was, but hey, Mista was confident in his abilities to feel enough optimism for the both of them. When it came to the gang, that normally fell to him; after all, optimism was not a common outlook in the mafia.

"We don't have any water to clean it off, so I'm afraid this is going to hurt," Bucciarati said apologetically as he used a clean bandage to soak up some antiseptic. When Giorno winced at Bucciarati's touch to his scalp, Mista reached out and took his hand in his own, squeezing it encouragingly.

"Why dontcha tell Bucciarati how ya did it?" Mista suggested, thinking that would be a good distraction for the guy. "Let's call Fugo over too, he'll wanna hear this." The guy would probably understand it way more than Mista did - and this would be like the third time Giorno explained it to him, too.

Giorno looked excited at the prospect of sharing his newest discovery of his abilities and when they caught Fugo's eyes, they waved him over. He looked hesitant but after Narancia said something inaudible, the boy's expression hardened and he nodded before coming to join them, Narancia and Trish at his side. Abbacchio looked even angrier as Fugo approached but Bucciarati smacked him on the back of the head and shot him a disapproving frown. It was just so damn easy for the capo to control the man that Mista had to bite back a snicker or Abbacchio might undo all'a Giorno's hard work.

"What is it?" Fugo asked cautiously.

"I used a new method to recover Mista's burnt arm," Giorno explained as Bucciarati went back to cleaning off his wound. "Knowing your academic background, I'd like to hear your opinion, Fugo."

The boy immediately perked up at that and his expression was like a kid on Christmas morning. Mista sighed. He would never understand these intellectual types.

Giorno launched into an animated explanation as Bucciarati finished up cleaning off the dried blood, both the capo and Fugo listening intently. Even Abbacchio was listening, although it was obvious he was trying to seem uninterested. Narancia, on the other hand, immediately tuned them out, opting to look at Mista's arm in amazement and poke it in different places, asking if he could feel that or if it hurt. Trish seemed to give up on understanding after a minute and joined Narancia in bothering Mista.

By the time Giorno's head wound was covered with a bandage, he'd finished and Fugo was talking about some other thing that could apparently be a problem that Mista didn't know anything about; he hadn't even finished lower secondary school after all.

"-dangers that possible infectious agents present," he was saying with that faraway look on his face that he got when he was thinking hard. "Perhaps I'm wrong, but Gold Experience doesn't have the ability to nullify toxins or pathogens that it hasn't come into contact with, right? You were able to counter Haze's infection only because Gold Experience was able to interact with it and form an antidote. In which case, healing wounds like burns could possibly trap the harmful microorganisms underneath the skin and cause an infection or possibly even sepsis since you aren't able to know what all is trapped beneath the skin."

"I hadn't considered that," Giorno admitted, adjusting the bandage where it wrapped around his forehead so that his golden bangs were pushed out of it and dangling into his eyes from where they'd fallen out of their ringlets. "Gold Experience can neutralize poisons but it must be infected first, and I can't see or reach deep enough into the skin to possibly find them all…"

He trailed off with a frown, glancing at Mista's arm.

"What?" Mista asked warily, pulling his arm close to his chest. He may not know what they were really saying but he knew enough to know it wasn't anything good. "What?"

"…If your arm begins to hurt, you have to tell us," Giorno said finally, a troubled expression twisting across his pretty features. "Immediately, Mista. While I think you're alright - the skin wasn't ruptured, after all - it's possible that-"

"Well, I think it's unlikely in this case for another reason too," Fugo interjected before Mista could get too freaked out. "The skin was seared so badly with such extreme heat that it's unlikely most harmful pathogens would've survived. I think rather than applying to Mista, it's something you should be cautious of in the future, Giorno."

"I agree," Bucciarati added, scratching his chin as he said, "And there might be other side effects that we don't know about from using your power in this way."

"I would never do anything that I thought might hurt one of you," Giorno said defensively."

Bucciarati's features softened. "That isn't what I meant, Giorno. Not all of it, anyway."

Mista held his tongue but he knew what Bucciarati was getting at. Surely Gold Experience had a limit somewhere and he didn't want them to find it out the hard way.

Giorno, for his part, didn't really seem to understand but nodded anyways. "Let me see the rest of your injuries," he said aloud to the group. "I'll do the best I can to fix you all up."

As the others began to decide who was going to get healed first, Bucciarati announced he was going to go back to the car and inspect it for their journey ahead. Mista scooted towards Giorno and murmured softly, "You doing alright? Want me to stay?"

Giorno smiled softly at him and shook his head no. "You should go with Bucciarati," he answered. "Check out the car. He'll need assistance and you're the only one who's been healed already."

Mista hesitated for a second, wanting to stay with Giorno, but nodded and got up. It was strange; just half an hour ago, everything had hurt and he felt like he mighta been dying, but now the most he felt was a soreness in his side from the swollen skin Giorno hadn't healed because it didn't really need it.

As he followed after Bucciarati towards where the car was left, he couldn't help but wonder when Bucciarati had been treated. Maybe while he was passed out? Or maybe he just hadn't been hurt - as unlikely as that seemed. But he knew that if he tried to get an answer out of the capo, he would just be met with circumvention and assurances he didn't need. It was frustrating, knowing that something was wrong but not knowing what to do about it.

"Mista?"

His capo's voice stirred him from his thoughts and he looked up to see Bucciarati staring at him curiously. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought I'd come help ya out," he said with a shrug. "I don't need anymore healing from Giorno, plus Pistols can help look in the small spots we can't see for any tracking stuff."

Bucciarati nodded his thanks as they began to search the gray CUV. There wasn't anything that was apparent, the remains of the old clothes they'd stolen on the drive there over a day ago, the blood-covered blanket Fugo had used, some discarded grocery bags from the trip to town. Coco Jumbo was still hidden safely in the cracked-open column that they'd turned into a little house for him complete with a water dish and a pile of kale that looked half-eaten. The outside of the car looked pretty normal too, the sides streaked with dirt and grime from the unpaved roads it had driven on, the crack on the back window from when Narancia had rammed his radio into it when Abbacchio stopped suddenly, the passenger side visor broken off.

"You guys see anything?" Mista asked his Pistols, who were floating around inside the CUV inspecting it upon the promise of sausage later.

An assortment of negatives were the answer he got and Mista sighed. If Fugo hadn't told anyone where they were, then how'd those assholes find them? From the looks of it, Bucciarati was thinking the same thing.

"Could they have followed you back from the town?" he asked hopefully but the capo just shook his head.

"Leone and I were very careful," he said. "We circled around the town multiple times before we left and turned on three different side streets before we finally came back here. I'm certain no one was following us."

"Can you guys check the underside of the car?" Mista instructed the Pistols and they obeyed, albeit with the normal amount of arguing and complaining.

"Bucciarati, we got a flashlight I can hold for them?"

The capo procured one from the glove compartment and passed it over to him. "I'll check the interior mechanisms of the car," he said as Sticky Fingers appeared at his side. "You take care of the flashlight for Pistols."

Mista saluted and knelt down on the ground, pressing his cheek to the earth as he flicked on the flashlight and winced at the sudden bright light assaulting his vision. Sex Pistols flitted around way too animatedly for three in the morning and chattered amongst themselves as they worked, pulling at pipes and banging on the metal frame until something creaked and Mista made them cut it out before they broke the damn car.

"Mista?"

His eyes flicked back to see Five next to the flashlight, rubbing its tiny hands nervously as its big eyes watered. "How is Giorno?" it asked quietly, glancing behind it like it didn't want the others to know it was asking.

Mista grinned. That was his Five, ever the softy.

"He's fine," he said, keeping his voice down for Five's sake. "He was very happy you stayed with him while we escaped. You did good, Five."

The Pistol seemed to brighten at that, a bashful smile creeping across its face as it nodded its thanks to Mista.

"Mista!" Two appeared in front of him, pointing excitedly behind it. "They found it, they found it!"

Three and Seven were carrying something that was as big as them over to Mista and they deposited it on the ground as the gunman beckoned Bucciarati over. It was blackish-gray, blending with the metal frame of the bottom of the car, but the wires and small, blinking red dot were evidence enough to know what it was.

"Wonderful job, Mista," Bucciarati said approvingly as he took the device in his hand. "Looks like a standard tracking device for Passione. I've used them a few times before you joined."

The capo dropped it to the ground and Mista lifted up his shoe to bring his heel down on it but stopped when Bucciarati stuck his arm out.

"If you break it, they'll know we found it," he explained as he bent down to dig a small hole in the soft earth. "But if we leave it here, by the car it was left on, it will take them longer to figure out we survived."

"Smart thinking," Mista agreed and moved back as Bucciarati pushed it into the hole and knocked a bit of loose dirt over it, not enough to bury it but enough to hide it from any passing animals or birds. "Let's go tell the others and-"

"Bucciarati!"

Narancia was running towards them, a scared look on his face as he waved his arms frantically at them.

"What is it?!" Bucciarati had immediately stiffened, ready to spring back into action and Mista reached down to grip the base of his gun in case he'd need it. "More enemies?!"

"No, it's- it's Giorno! He just- just fell over!"

Mista felt like his heart was gonna stop the second the blond's name was uttered and broke into a sprint towards where they'd left the others. He heard Bucciarati begin to question Narancia behind him, the pair hurrying as well, but he didn't bother to pay attention. All he made out was Narancia saying one other thing.

"He's not waking up."