tw for claustrophobia at the end of the chapter

Chapter Five

Both Giorno and Abbacchio got to sleep that night, and though refreshed wasn't exactly the term Giorno would use, they were at least rested.

After being called upon to make breakfast again, Abbacchio urged Giorno back to training.

Giorno had been surprised to say the least that the older gangster had taken up the task so readily, but he supposed he had looked rather pathetic. And maybe it was too embarrassing for Abbacchio to associate with someone who would just get their face kicked in. Of course, Giorno had been positive he had seen just the slightest amount of concern on Abbacchio's face too, which led him to believe there was more to it than just Abbacchio's typical answer of 'Bucciarati would kill him if anything happened to Giorno'.

Whatever his reasons, Giorno was grateful and he was learning a lot under Abbacchio's tutelage even though their constant sparring sessions put a lot of strain on his underused muscles and the bruises he'd already received. He had never been a stranger to pain, but this, he decided he didn't mind as much. It was the kind of pain that felt good, like he was accomplishing something.

However, he still wasn't entirely ready when Caruso came in and announced that there would be another fight that night.

Wolf chuckled as he passed Giorno, buffeting him to one side with his shoulder. "We'll see if I can take you down in less than thirty seconds this time."

Abbacchio rolled his eyes and joined Giorno at the back of the line. "Don't let him psych you out. Just put what I've been teaching you to use and remember that the most important thing is you don't have to stand there and take a punch."

Giorno nodded, wetting his lips, pressing his tongue across the scab on his lower one. The dull ache worked to get his head into the game and he was determined to do exactly what Abbacchio had instructed him.

The fights started with Drago against one of the other men, and then Abbacchio was chosen to go up against Wolf that night. Giorno watched tensely as Wolf gave the goth a run for his money, getting a couple painful looking hits in, but Abbacchio managed to stay on top of the fight, ending with pinning Wolf to the ground with a firm grip on his wrist and a foot planted in the center of his back.

Caruso jerked his head toward Giorno. "You're up next. Make it a good show, huh, kid?" He glanced over at another man. "Minotaur, you're up."

Giorno's heart wavered in his confidence as he saw how large the man was, even broader than Wolf, but Abbacchio glanced over at him as he descended from the cage, wiping blood from his face with his discarded shirt. He placed a hand on Giorno's shoulder while he was wrapping his hands and leaned in close.

"Listen, I know he looks scary, but he's not gonna be nearly as fast as you. Use that to your advantage."

Giorno nodded, fastening the wraps snugly around his wrists and headed up into the cage to Caruso's urging, listening to the lock clicking behind him.

The crowd was already jeering, and Giorno squared his shoulders, trying not to let it bother him.

His opponent was cracking his knuckles, sizing Giorno up with a smirk. "So how long do you think you'll last tonight, squirt?" he asked. "Wolf and I had a bet. He said twenty seconds this time. Unless you think all those little slap fights you've been doing in the gym have actually done anything to help."

Giorno didn't reply, simply clenched his hands and fell into a fighting stance, making sure his weight was dispersed evenly on the balls of his feet for ease of movement.

Minotaur snorted. "Fine. I promise I'll try not to ruin that pretty face of yours too badly."

He swung a huge fist toward Giorno's head and Giorno swiftly ducked it, taking a small step back. His opponent followed him and swung again but Giorno leaned back, continuing his retreat, still light on his feet. Minotaur seemed to be getting annoyed and he lunged forward.

Giorno, now in the corner of the cage, waited for him to lift his arm to swing and then swiftly darted under it, returning to the middle of the ring.

The crowd started booing, yelling at Minotaur to smash Giorno into the ground. He seemed to share the sentiment because he lunged again with a frustrated growl.

Giorno easily sidestepped.

This continued for several more rounds, the crowd's fury climbing along with Minotaur's before Giorno found himself against the side of the cage, waiting for the other fighter to make his move.

"Hey!" One of Caruso's guards stepped up to the cage. "Get in there and fight, you little bastard!"

He lifted a cattle prod and shoved it against the back of Giorno's leg, sending a numbing shock through him. He cried out as his leg buckled. Minotaur seemed to take this as the opportunity he was obviously looking for, surging forward, likely in an attempt to trap Giorno against the side of the cage.

Giorno waited and then slid to the ground right between the man's legs, flipping onto his back and kicking upward, slamming his heel directly into the man's groin.

Minotaur staggered forward with a strangled sound and Giorno slid quickly away, getting a glance toward Abbacchio standing behind the cage with the other fighters, a slight smirk on his lips.

The approval gave Giorno a burst of energy and he scrambled to his feet, leg still tingling slightly from the electric shock, but he slammed his elbow into the man's lower back before he could turn around, kicking out at the back of his knee as well.

Minotaur's leg buckled, but he used the fall to reach around behind him, grabbing Giorno's ankle and completely flipping him head over heels. Giorno landed on his back hard, head slamming into the slightly springy floor, and the other man was on him in an instant.

"You little shit," he snarled, huge hand wrapping around Giorno's throat, voice still slightly strangled. "I'll make you pay for that!"

There was no way Giorno would be able to shift the other man's weight off of him and, spurred on by minotaur cutting off his breath, he brought his free fist up and delivered another punishing blow to the man's crotch that was completely open in his current position.

The crowd gasped again as Minotaur's grip on Giorno's throat faltered, leaving the boy to squirm away as the man tilted onto his side.

Giorno clutched his throat, gasping for breath as Caruso stepped up to the cage door.

"Tie! Both of you out of there."

He didn't look happy, and as Giorno scrambled quickly out the door, Caruso caught his shoulder, fingers digging firmly into a bruise there.

"You think you're being cute? Next time you go in there, I want to see a real fight, not you hopping around like some little rabbit."

Giorno met his eyes. "You said there were no rules unless you told us otherwise. I'm just using my own style of fighting."

Caruso's hand cracked across Giorno's face, a ring on his pinky splitting his cheek. He leaned in close until Giorno could smell his foul breath.

"I would advise you not to get smart with me. You're not the don here. Remember that."

He shoved Giorno roughly away and motioned to the next duo.

Giorno rubbed his throat with a wince again before he started to unwrap his hands.

"I'll admit, kid, you didn't do too bad."

Giorno looked up to see Abbacchio coming up to him, handing Giorno his shirt before folding his arms over his chest. Giorno took the shirt gratefully and slipped it on.

"I was lucky at the end. If Caruso hadn't called it, I doubt it would have ended so well," Giorno murmured, though secretly, he was warmed by Abbacchio's praise, perhaps more so because he knew how rare it was.

"Let's go get cleaned up," the goth said, urging Giorno back toward the dorms.

Giorno showered, grateful for the heat on his sore body, and had Gold probe for injuries and damage in his neck where no one could see him use his Stand. He could breathe okay and though swallowing was a little painful, Giorno had had a lot worse.

Abbacchio was already done with his shower by the time he got out, kicked back on his cot with the same book he had been reading the night before.

Giorno sat on the edge of his cot, braiding his hair back into its normal style.

"Abbacchio?" he asked hesitantly.

"Hm."

"Tomorrow, could you show me that move you did at the end of the fight?"

Abbacchio lowered the book and glanced over at him. "You're barely mastering basic punching and defense."

Giorno pressed his lips together in determination. "It's all about using your opponent's bodyweight against them, right? I've seen Bucciarati do similar moves. On top of that, putting someone in a stress position would keep them from moving or risk injury, correct? If I could learn something like that, then I might be able to actually win a fight."

Abbacchio stared at him for a long moment before he sighed. "Fine. I'll teach you some holds. If you already understand the mechanics it shouldn't be too hard for you."

Giorno couldn't help the small smile. "Thank you, Abbacchio."

"Whatever," Abbacchio muttered. "Get some sleep."

Giorno was indeed exhausted and he laid down, pulling the slightly scratchy blanket over him. It almost reminded him too much of being back…there. The thin mattress, the blanket that didn't keep out the cold. The aches in his body.

He shook himself. He didn't want to think about that. He had the ability to defend himself now. A promise of something better.

If they could just figure out how to get out of here.

As Giorno was nodding off, he saw Abbacchio staring toward the door to the dormitory where Caruso was talking to one of the other fighters. Giorno couldn't quite tell who it was from there but thought it might be Wolf. He could tell Abbacchio was suspicious, but figured it was probably nothing. After all, how much worse could their situation get?

The next day, Abbacchio made good on his promise and took Giorno to the mats in the gym area while the room was mostly empty in the afternoon. There was no point in tipping the others off about his tactics.

"Okay, as you're aware, this move revolves around using your opponent's weight against them, so it will be something you can actually do. Come at me."

Giorno advanced and Abbacchio mercilessly grabbed him by the arm, throwing him over his hip as he pivoted and smashed Giorno into the mat with his foot as he put the slightest amount of pressure on his arm, not enough to do any damage but enough so he could feel how debilitating it was.

"You feel that?" Abbacchio asked.

Giorno grunted into the mat, staying completely still as if afraid the slightest movement would dislocate his arm. He was right.

"Good." Abbacchio released him and Giorno scrambled back to his feet, rubbing his arm slightly. "In that position you only need to apply a little pressure to do some pretty severe damage. Let me show you another one." He flopped onto his back on the mat and motioned Giorno forward. "Come try to pin me."

Giorno did, arms outstretched. Abbacchio grabbed one and wrapped one leg around Giorno's neck, the other under the trapped arm, applying pressure until Giorno gasped, fingers on his free hand digging into the mat.

Abbacchio neatly released him and helped him back to his feet. "That hold is also good if you get thrown down again and can't get back up before they're on you. You could have done this last night if you were able to get your legs up, trapping the arm he had around your throat."

"But Caruso always pits me against fighters that are three times my weight," Giorno protested.

"True, and it might be difficult once you're already stuck, but that's why you need to learn to think about the fight three moves ahead, while you're falling. You did good last night, going for his crotch while he had you down. He wasn't expecting that. I know you've got a head for tactics, so all we need to do is hone your skills a little."

"Okay," Giorno said with a firm nod. "Show me the first one again."

It took Giorno a little longer to pick up on the throws but he had a pretty good grasp of it by the time they were finished with their session, both of them sported bruises from all the mock falls they had taken on the mats.

During the training, Abbacchio thought it was odd that no one else had come in, but the other fighters did tend to use the afternoons to relax and keep to themselves, especially if there wasn't going to be a fight that night. Still…it seemed oddly quiet.

He left Giorno to his own devices for a while though and went to take a shower before another disgusting dinner. He was just dragging on a clean pair of pants when he heard footsteps from multiple people crossing the tile floor.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw several of the men coming toward him. Abbacchio ignored them but once it became obvious he was their target he turned to glower at them.

"You want something?"

"Yeah, we heard a rumor and want to know if it's true or not," Wolf said and folded his arms across his chest.

Abbacchio snorted. "Eat shit." He reached for his shirt, but it was Cobra who pushed forward next.

"We heard you're a cop."

Abbacchio froze, feeling the piercing stares. "Who the hell told you that?" But even as he said that he remembered spotting Caruso speaking with Wolf the night before and had an idea.

"So it's true?" Wolf snarled, advancing further while Abbacchio refused to be intimidated. "You here under cover or something?"

Abbacchio grunted in annoyance. "Not that it matters to you, but I'm not anymore." He grabbed his shirt and tried to shove past Wolf.

He felt the man's hand clamp around his arm as he passed. "Actually, it does matter to me."

Abbacchio's lip curled. "Get the fuck off me."

It was his own fault he wasn't ready for Wolf to straight up grab him by the hair and slam his head into the corner of the shower stall. Pain exploded in his skull and before he could regain his feet, hands were on him, yanking his arms behind him. Abbacchio struggled but the instant he tried to free himself someone's knee slammed into his groin before he took another massive fist directly to the face—likely curtesy of Minotaur. Blood gushed from his nose and he sagged with a groan before he was pulled upright again to give his attackers access to his body. Heavy blows slammed into his chest, stomach and face. When they seemed to decide he had taken enough damage to be unable to defend himself they released him. Abbacchio fell to the damp tile, now painted red with his blood, as they circled him and kicked the shit out of him without giving him the opportunity to defend himself again.

A heel to the same spot on his head that was already bleeding had him nearly blacking out before he heard a voice cut across the jeers from the fighters.

"Get off him! Leave him alone. Now!"

The men halted briefly and Abbacchio managed to tilt his head up enough to see Giorno standing there with his fists clenched, Stand aura rippling around him.

Fuck Abbacchio thought but all that came out of his mouth was a groan, unable to do more than fight unconsciousness.

"What are you gonna do about it, pretty boy?" Wolf snarled. "Get out of here unless you want to be next." He turned back to Abbacchio and raised his foot to kick the gangster in the head again.

"MUDA!"

The shout sounded a second before Wolf went flying into the wall, shock clear on his face.

Abbacchio tried to push himself up onto an elbow. "Giorno…"

But Giorno already had Gold Experience out and he was demolishing the other fighters. Even Minotaur who tried to come up on Giorno's back was yanked backwards by part of the pipe turning into thorny vines and wrapping around his throat before Gold Experience slammed him into the wall so hard several tiles cracked.

The fighters that could still get up rushed out of the room calling for the guards.

Giorno left the men he'd taken out where they lay and rushed to Abbacchio's side, instantly reaching down to touch the side of his head.

Abbacchio gasped, swallowing back the nausea and stars that burst before his eyes.

"I probably don't have long but I'll try to heal what I can," Giorno told him, mouth pressed tight.

"Idiot," Abbacchio spat, before he started to choke on something rising in his throat and when he hacked onto the white tile he clearly saw it was blood, slumping back, his eyes sliding shut despite his best efforts. Giorno's hands were on his shoulders and he might have been saying something, but Abbacchio could no longer hear him, having no choice but to surrender to the darkness.

Giorno pumped Abbacchio's body full of Gold's power, rushing to heal as much of the damage as he could before he was inevitably stopped.

Dark bruises were already spreading over Abbacchio's upper body. Giorno blindly fixed any internal damage, but skipped over the cracked ribs for his head, trying to ease the swelling and repair the damaged flesh. Abbacchio tensed with a pained gasp from the healing process, but was mostly unconscious. Giorno heard the running feet approach and sent one last shot of energy into Abbacchio before he was grabbed from behind and yanked away.

"Put that away!" one of the guards snapped, though he wasn't looking at where Gold was still crouched over Abbacchio so he obviously wasn't a Stand user. Giorno was silent and one of the others stepped up and shoved a cattle prod into his side. Giorno cried out as the current surged through him, forcing Gold to dissipate. The guard kept the prod shoved into his flesh until he sagged, twitching as he was dragged out of the bathroom, through the dormitory and up to the main floor and into an office off to one side of the fighting ring.

Inside the room, manacles were snapped around his wrists and he was thrown to the floor, unable to catch himself with his hands behind his back. A foot slammed into his side before the cattle prod was pressed threateningly into his shoulder.

"The boss is on his way. He'll decide what to do with you."

Giorno stayed silent. What could he say in this situation? He just hoped he had been able to do enough for Abbacchio and that the other fighters wouldn't simply kill him while he was down and defenseless.

"What do you think the boss will decide to do this time?" one of the guard's asked, obviously meaning for Giorno to hear. "Let him off with a beating, or do you think he'll use the box?"

The other man chuckled. "Don't know. Guess we'll just have to wait and find out."

Giorno refused to let the talk bother him. He had known there would be consequences, but he couldn't have let them kill Abbacchio either. They were all each other had here and Giorno was sure he wouldn't have been able to last this long without the older gangster.

As long as Caruso wasn't planning on killing him, he would be fine.

It wasn't long before the man himself strode into the office, staring at Giorno with disgust.

"Get him up," he said to the guards who reached down and hauled Giorno into a chair.

Caruso slammed a fist into his face, nearly knocking Giorno out of it again.

"I told you not to use your Stand, you little shit, this is your own fault."

Giorno stared him down. "You should have told your men not to attack mine."

Caruso grabbed a fistful of Giorno's hair and yanked his head back so he was looking up at him. "How many times am I going to have to remind you that I'm the boss here. You don't have any power, you're nothing but a snot-nosed kid, and if you don't play by my rules, you get punished."

Giorno met his eyes directly and fury washed over Caruso's face as he yanked Giorno out of the chair with a vicious tug on his hair.

"Get him up."

The guards grabbed hold of Giorno and hauled him out of the office toward the back corner of the building. Giorno swallowed hard, not knowing where this was going to go, but when he saw where Caruso was heading, that was when panic started to set in finally.

"I think two days in the box for you should teach a lesson," Caruso said with a cruel satisfaction as he opened the crate that was barely four-foot square. "Get him in there."

Giorno balked, tugging against the guards pushing him forward. "No," he breathed.

They just laughed and shocked him with the cattle prod again. Giorno's knees buckled and he was simply lifted up and thrown into the box.

"No, please," he pleaded, trying to sit up before they shoved him back down.

"Sleep tight, brat," Caruso told him and slammed the lid shut, leaving Giorno in complete, cramped blackness. He could hear a lock engaging and he kicked out at the walls, panic settling in viciously.

He wasn't Giorno Giovanna, Don of Passione anymore, he was just Haruno, locked in the tiny closet by his mother because he annoyed her and she hadn't wanted to see him.

He could barely move, trapped in the tight space, hands stuck behind his back, legs pressed against his chest. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe…

Some survival instinct forced Giorno to stop struggling with a helpless sob. It wouldn't do any good after all, it never did. He began to force himself to breathe calmly through his nose. The air in here wasn't stale, he could see pinpricks of light that indicated holes, he wouldn't die in here. He refused to die in here.

Giorno trembled as he forced himself to breathe, tried to fight the urge to struggle. Panic would make it worse, they would only hurt him more if he made noise.

Giorno squeezed his eyes shut and tried to forget where he was, repeating one thing over and over in his head:

He would survive this.

He would survive this.