Chapter Six

It wasn't long before the old clothes started to fit Giorno better. Despite his attempts to eat when he could, between not getting as much to eat as he had before and the constant anxiety brought on by his surroundings, he was losing weight.

The welts from the last beating were slow to heal, mostly because they constantly rubbed against his shirt, getting irritated and sore. It wasn't like it was anything he wasn't used to, though.

He had tried to even his hair up a bit, but without much success. He wasn't exactly good at cutting hair and having to do it to himself was even harder.

Giorno counted down the days on the calendar. School had started two weeks ago now, and he should have been back in his dorm room, struggling over math and essay writing, not tip-toeing around a man who, if he wasn't out sitting in some bar, he was drinking and smoking at home, and a woman who refused to do anything so passed her chores and responsibilities off to her son.

Currently, Giorno was scrubbing the walls of the next room that was supposed to be painted. They needed it. Between the age and his stepfather's cigarette smoke, they looked disgusting. Despite everything, he had to admit that the house was looking nicer with all the new paint and furniture. It was a shame it didn't help with anyone's attitude.

Giorno worked quietly, until he heard his mother complaining from the next room.

"Why is he always gone when I need him? Giorno!"

Giorno put the rag down with a sigh and stepped out to see what she needed. "Yes?"

"I need you to drive me to the interior design place to pick up the rugs—they just got in," she said.

"Oh," Giorno said, blinking. "Alright."

His mother shoed him out, handing him the keys. Giorno clutched them in his hand. He had forgotten there was a car. He briefly considered taking it and running away, but…his stepfather would probably have him arrested and he would just end up right back where he was if not in some detention center. As usual, it wouldn't be worth it.

He drove his mother to the store and went inside to help carry the rugs out. He felt rather self-conscious out there with his ratty clothes and terrible hair, especially in such a nice shop, when his mother was wearing a designer dress and heels. The staff probably thought he was some urchin she had hired off the streets to help her. One of the older ladies who worked there was eyeing him, but turned away to attend to another customer.

As they were loading up the rugs, Giorno nearly bumped into another woman who was walking down the sidewalk.

"Oh, sorry, Signora…" he murmured.

To Giorno's shock, her eyes lit with recognition and she bowed to him. "Don Giorno! Oh, it's good to see you again, I just want to thank you and Bucciarati again for everything you've done for me and my place."

Giorno was very confused. He stared at the woman with a frown, wondering who this Bucciarati was, and why she was calling him Don Giorno?

"Um…I'm sorry, Signora, but…I think you've mistaken me for someone else. I have no idea who those people are."

"Giorno! Come!"

Giorno glanced over at his mother, standing at the car, and cast one more look at the woman who had frozen with a very odd expression on her face, almost pale like she was terrified of him now. Giorno didn't get the chance to ask her if she was okay though because his mother marched over and grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the door.

"Come on, it looks like rain! I don't want the rugs to get wet!"

Giorno thought about the encounter for the rest of the day until it made his head hurt. That woman had seemed so convinced that he had been someone else. The oddest part was that it was someone else named Giorno. Could he have a doppelganger running around? They said that everyone was supposed to have one, right?

He almost wished he was living this other Giorno's life, especially when his stepfather stumbled back for dinner and took the food before Giorno could save any out for himself.

He went to bed with his stomach growling that night, again.


Bucciarati slumped in his seat at their typical table in Libeccio, his lunch gone mostly untouched. Everyone was uncharacteristically quiet.

Since their renewed determination to find Giorno had started in earnest, they had spent the last three days back out on the streets, searching the city. Bruno had finally called all the hospitals, trying to see if anyone matching Giorno's description had been brought in. He'd even, in a moment of desperation, called the morgue, but thankfully hadn't gotten a positive identification there.

"Trish and I are going to look in the north end of the city this afternoon," Mista told them. "We haven't searched there yet."

Bruno nodded glancing at Fugo. "Have you checked with the airports yet?"

Fugo swallowed a bite of food. "I was going to this afternoon."

"You really think he went so far as to leave the mainland or even the country?" Narancia asked.

"It's better to take any possibility into consideration at this point," Bruno told him.

The host came over and bowed slightly to Bruno.

"Signore, Bucciarati, there is a woman here to see you."

Bruno's heart leapt, but it was unlikely to be anything to do with Giorno. He tried to school his face as he stood up, heading to the front of the restaurant where an older woman was pacing nervously.

"Ah, Signora Mancini, how can I help you today?" he asked with a smile.

She instantly grabbed his hand. "Oh, Bucciarati, I fear I may have messed something up. Please tell me—is Don Giorno all right?"

Bruno froze, breath catching in his throat. "Don Giorno…? What do you mean?"

She wrung her hands. "I saw him yesterday—almost didn't recognize him, his hair was different—and I thanked him for helping me out those several months past. But he said he didn't know who or what I was talking about. It seemed odd until I thought about it more and then realized I might have almost blown a cover he was under. I really hope that wasn't the case."

Bruno reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders before he could stop himself. "You saw Giorno? Where?"

"I saw him not far from my shop," Signora Mancini said, looking startled. "What's wrong, Bucciarati?"

"Please, tell me, was he with anyone?"

"A woman," Signore Mancini said. "Looked rather well-to-do, I would guess. At least she was dressed quite fancy."

Bucciarati's mind was reeling. "Is there anything else you remember? Anything strange?"

"Well, I did think it was odd that Giorno was wearing rather old-looking clothes, but again, that was one of the clues that made me think he could be undercover." She looked distressed again. "I really hope I haven't brought any harm down on him."

Bruno quickly leaned in and kissed the old woman on the cheek. "Thank you, Signora. I believe you've helped Giorno instead." He turned away almost before she could look surprised, and hurried back to the others.

"Get up," he said urgently. "We actually have our first lead on Giorno."

Everyone was out of their seats in an instant and rushing out to the car.

Bruno was trembling. He really hoped this would be it. He really hoped they would be able to bring Giorno home for dinner.


"Ferro! The furniture people will be over in an hour and you're drunk! You could at least try to care."

"Oh, shut up, woman," Giovanna growled as he slumped into a chair at the kitchen table and lit another cigarette.

Giorno was busy cleaning out the refrigerator which had a ton of disgusting old food from before he had gotten there. He could feel his stepfather's eyes on his back, making Giorno's scabs itch. He tried to ignore him the best he could, but the acrid smell of the cigarette smoke was making it hard to breathe in the small room.

"You're not giving us a very good image!" Giorno's mother snipped back.

"Fine, I'll have the brat make me coffee. You hear that? Get to it."

Giorno straightened up and threw the last of the spoiled food away before heading to the coffee pot, pouring water and grounds into it.

He went back to scrubbing the fridge, trying to keep himself busy while he waited for the coffee.

His stepfather snorted. "Sulking now, are you?"

Giorno didn't answer, obviously. He just kept working.

His stepfather snorted again and Giorno continued cleaning until the coffee was done, then got up and poured a cup, bringing it over.

His stepfather reached for it at the same time Giorno went to set it on the table and with his drunken coordination, Giovanna's hand struck the cup, causing it to slosh out, splashing across his lap.

Giorno pulled back instantly, horrified as the man roared in pain and fury, lashing out and slapping the cup completely out of Giorno's hand. Hot coffee splashed across Giorno's arm and stomach, scalding as the hot liquid caused his shirt to stick to his skin. The cup hit the floor, shattering into pieces as Giovanna surged upright, grabbing Giorno by the front of his shirt and shaking him.

"You little shitstain! Can't you do anything? What good are you?!"

Giorno knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it. Some boldness rose up in him and he looked his stepfather in the eyes, knowing how much he hated that. "If you don't want me here, then let me leave!"

Everything spun and there was a sudden, sharp pain in Giorno's scalp as his stepfather grabbed his hair, followed by a heavy impact to the side of Giorno's face as it was slammed into the table.

"Ungrateful little bastard!" His stepfather let go of his hair and as Giorno slumped, he buried a foot in Giorno's stomach, forcing him to double over, pain ripping through his middle. Something desperate flooded his system, a surge of adrenaline, but a sharp ache in his head caused it to dissipate and Giorno slumped to his knees, pressing a hand to his aching face.

"How many times do I have to beat you before you understand that's it's a privilege to be here!"

He grabbed Giorno by the front of the shirt, causing seams to start ripping as he shook him. "You burn me and I'll burn you, got that?"

"No—" Giorno tried before he had to hold back a cry as his stepfather took the still burning cigarette from where he'd dropped it in his ashtray and ground it out against his collarbone.

Giorno inhaled sharply, biting his tongue, trying to ignore the smell of acrid smoke, coupled with singed flesh. It made his eyes water.

Giovanna shoved him in the chest and Giorno fell backwards, cutting open his palm on one of the shards of the coffee cup as he caught himself.

"Clean that shit up and then get out of here—your mother's expecting people and you look horrific."

Because of you, Giorno said darkly as he picked up his shaking hand, reaching for the dishtowel to wrap it before he started to clean up the pieces.

"Haruno!"

He flinched. His mother only called him by that name when she was very upset.

"I told you not to make your stepfather angry! Look what you've done now! One of my new cups!"

Giorno silently continued to pick up the pieces, throwing them away before he grabbed a rag to clean up the spilled coffee, every movement causing something to hurt.

"Are you even listening to me?"

He didn't reply. He wouldn't. Talking never did any good.

"Fine!" his mother snapped and stomped out.

Giorno finished cleaning up and then went to grab ice from the freezer, wrapping it in a towel before retreating upstairs.

After he cleaned his new collection of injuries, wincing at the nasty bruising and the pink skin on his stomach and arm from the hot coffee, he washed his shirt out, hoping it wouldn't stain. After bandaging his hand the best he could and ignoring the circular burn on his chest, he went to his room and curled up on his mattress. If they wanted dinner that night they were going to have to make it themselves. Giorno wasn't coming out of his room again until tomorrow.

He was staring out the dirty window when he saw something land on the windowsill. He sat up, curious, to see that it was a ladybug that had somehow gotten trapped in there.

Giorno had mixed feelings about this. He loved ladybugs, or insects and small creatures in general; they were supposed to be good luck. But Giorno didn't feel very lucky right now. This ladybug really had no place here.

So, he stood up and opened his window, watching as it flew away, and feeling strangely empty. At least the ladybug didn't have to stay here.

Giorno wished that he too could fly away but knew that there was no luck for him. Giorno Giovanna was fresh out of it.


Abbacchio didn't have the heart to say that it was probably best for only a couple of them to go to the spot Giorno had been seen. Everyone was overly anxious about their missing team member, and Bruno was pretty much breaking every road rule to get there as quickly as possible.

Abbacchio wasn't exactly skeptical, but he would rather err on the side of caution and not get his hopes up. If Giorno took a car to and from the place, Moody Blues wouldn't see much more than Signora Mancini had. At least they might be able to put a face to the woman Giorno had been with though.

He cursed as Bucciarati practically parked on the curb as he pulled up to the line of shops Giorno had been sighted at, scaring several people.

"Easy," Abbacchio grunted before Narancia and Trish practically barreled out of the car.

"Do you want us to question the store owner?"

"I can ask around the other shops too in case they saw anything else."

"If there's cameras we might be able to see footage of any cars—"

"Quiet!" Fugo snapped before Bucciarati could even open his mouth. "Abbacchio's really the only one who's needed here so you should all stay out of his way and let him work!"

"Agreed," Bruno said. "Let's not cause too much commotion. Abbacchio, are you ready?"

Abbacchio closed the car door and nodded as he hopped up onto the sidewalk. "Yeah."

"Signora Mancini said it was sometime in the early afternoon yesterday. Maybe around 1 pm?"

Abbacchio summoned Blues and started the rewind, searching for Giorno. The figure that appeared had them all doing a double take.

Abbacchio almost didn't recognize the kid. If it wasn't for the familiar green eyes and face shape, he would have sworn it was someone else.

There was a collective gasp from the kids. Trish stepped forward, hovering her hand over the replay's face.

"W-what did he do to his hair?" she asked.

"And his clothes, they look way too small on him," Mista commented.

"And worn out," Narancia added, concern on his face.

Abbacchio looked down and realized he was right, Giorno's pants ended a good three inches above his ankles, holes in the knees, and his shirt was tight across the shoulders, almost too short. He took a deep breath, getting a really strange feeling from this whole thing, but cleared his throat.

"Come on, gawking won't help him, let's see what happened."

He put Moody Blues in 'play' and watched as the replay started. Giorno heading into the shop and, looking like he was carrying things out several times, and then finally stopping on the street to talk to, presumably, Signora Mancini.

"Um…I'm sorry, Signora, but…I think you've mistaken me for someone else. I have no idea who those people are."

They all frowned as Giorno looked over his shoulder suddenly at a call and finally disappeared. Moody Blues stopped the replay with a frustrated beep, and Abbacchio cursed.

"He got into a car, shit."

"So, we can't follow the replay any further?" Narancia demanded, wringing his hands.

"Find the woman," Bucciarati said, face impassive. "If we can ID her, we might be able to find him."

Abbacchio nodded and called Blues back, having him search for this mysterious woman. They all watched with bated breath as she appeared, a middle-aged woman with dark hair and eyes, wearing a fancy dress, a pinched expression on her face. This bothered Abbacchio even more; the juxtaposition of Giorno's old clothes and ratty haircut that he might have laughed about in any other circumstance. The uneasy feeling gnawed at his gut further.

"Pause it," Bucciarati said.

Moody Blues beeped and stopped as they all stared at the woman.

"Does anyone know who this is?" Trish asked. "Has anyone seen her before?"

"Nope," Mista said grimly.

"No," Bucciarati replied, quiet as he studied the woman. "However…she does look slightly familiar."

"It's because she looks like Giorno," Fugo spoke up. "Her nose and cheekbones, see?"

"So maybe there is some truth to the whole family problem angle after all," Narancia said.

"Maybe an aunt…a mother?" Mista commented.

"Yeah, maybe," Abbacchio murmured before he started the replay up again, but it also ended as the woman got into the car and he called Blues back with a sigh, raising his hands helplessly. "That's all I can do here."

The others looked dejected, but Bruno straightened his shoulders. "We have a lead now though. Giorno must be somewhere in this part of the city."

"There are thousands of homes in this sector," Fugo pointed out. "Are you going to have us knock on doors until we find him?"

"If we have to, yes!" Bruno snapped.

"What, you don't want to find him, Fugo?" Narancia demanded.

"That's not what I said!" Fugo snapped. "If Giorno is really in trouble and we do that, we run the risk of alerting whoever has him that someone is looking for him, and if that happens, they might move him to another place entirely and we'll have wasted all this time for nothing and we still won't have done Giorno any good! Is that what you want?"

"Enough!" Abbacchio snarled. "Fugo's right, disorganized searching is the worst thing we can resort to right now. We need to sit down and make some kind of plan of action. See if we can figure out who this woman is for certain. In the meantime, let's get off the damn street and discuss this somewhere more private."

They trooped back to the car and Bruno returned to the driver's seat, silent, as he drove a little less hectically back toward their headquarters.

"You know," Mista mused. "If this is a family thing, maybe it has something to do with his dad. Pretty much all I know about Giorno's family is that he never met him."

"How do you know that?" Narancia demanded.

Mista shrugged. "He had a picture of him in his wallet. I saw it one day when Giorno pulled out a card to give me to go get food or something. I asked him who it was and he said it was a picture of his dad that he'd never met. I thought it was a little weird he kept a picture of him, but I guess it's all he had. Anyway, he was blond like Giorno."

"Okay, so what if his dad came back and that was the family emergency Giorno was talking about?" Trish asked. "If I know anything about family issues, it's that they can get blown way out of proportion before you even know what's happening."

Abbacchio pressed his lips together musingly. "It might be something to look into, but we have no idea what his father's name is. Is he Giovanna or is that his mother's name? Or is that even a name Giorno didn't come up with himself?"

"I highly doubt it's his mother's name since she looked more Asian than Italian," Fugo commented. "Providing that woman was even his mother to begin with."

"We have a lot to look into, but at least we have more clues," Bruno said. "And we do know that Giorno is alive."

Everyone was silent after that comment, feeling the relief of at least knowing that much.

However, Abbacchio had to wonder how safe Giorno was? Even if he wasn't physically locked up, it didn't mean he wasn't a captive. Those clothes and shitty haircut were still throwing him for a loop. Was Giorno's denial of knowing who Bucciarati and even himself were a ploy he hoped would cause Signora Mancini to question what was going on and bring word to them?

Or was it even worse than that, and did Giorno actually not even know who he was?