Chapter 1

"Giorno, thank you for all that you've done"

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I looked up at the sky, lost in my own thoughts. I thought with all this power in passione, I would be happy. That is, however, not the case. There is this gaping hole in my heart. My friends, Bucciarati, Abbacchio, and Narancia, have perished in the little time I knew them. I continue to gaze up at the sky from the balcony of my office. I allow the morning sun to shine on my face. I welcome the gentle breeze of the morning wind as it blows through my long blonde hair. I close my eyes.

"Hey Giorno" I heard. I open my eyes and look at the owner of the voice behind me. It was my good friend, Guido Mista.

"Buno Giorno" I say. "Lovely morning, is it not?" Mista nods in agreement with me.

"I hate to bother you. But can you chat with Fugo? He's been at Narancia's grave all night...he won't listen to me..." I go silent and turn away. "Please?"

"You know how badly this effected him, Mista" I say "He won't leave willingly"

"I know...but please..?" I nod and walk inside my office to fetch my coat.

"Ciao"

"Ciao, Gio" I then exit my office to go to the graveyard.

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"Fugo. I finally found you. Well, I knew where you were." Fugo gazes longingly at Narancia's grave. I sense a deep loneliness from him.

"Buno Giorno, Gio." He says "Mista told you to get me? No...I...I want to stay, a bit longer if that is ok" I look down at him sympathetically.

"Very well. I have yet to give our dearly departed friends gifts"

"What do you-" I show him the flowers I had gotten before he could say anything more.

"I made a pitstop on the way here."

"Giorno.." He says quietly. He then stood up, I hand him the flowers I had gotten for Narancia's grave. "Grazie"

"Fugo, if there is anything on your mind, you can talk to me" He looks at the flowers, then at Narancia's grave. It seems his words were caught in his throat.

"I..." He began, but then set the flowers by the grave. "I shouldn't have left" he whispered "Would the outcome of the mission to betray the boss change if I were present?" I stay silent.

"Fugo..."

"I guess you could say..." his words caught in his throat once more. He opened his mouth as to say something, but nothing came out. I look at him, concerned. "You could say...I liked him."

"We all did. He was our friend"

"No Giorno. I liked him more than that. But what does it matter? He's gone." It was like a war going on in Fugos mind. He was upset, also cold. Typical Fugo.

"I see...I'm sorry. And, he wanted to return to you."

Silence

"Fugo, let's visit Abbacchio and Bucciarati now, ok? Then we can say goodbye to Narancia before heading home" He just nods. I place a comforting hand on his shoulder. He smiled slightly. We then go to find Abbacchio's and Bucciarati's graves.

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"Buno Giorno" I say as I awoke. We slept in the turtle, I slept on the far side of the couch. I sleepily rubbed my eyes. Bucciarati looked at me, a smile formed on his lips.

"Did you sleep well?" Asks Bucciarati. He was passing out drinks ranging from juice boxes and water bottles.

"Not really, but no use complaining." Abbacchio grumbled as I spoke. I have this suspicion he likes Bucciarati, more than friends. He seems to respect him more than the rest of us. Fugo was chatting with Narancia. Mista was drinking his juice box in the chair where he sat. It was his job to look up at the ceiling of the turtle, to check for enemies. Bucciarati gave me a cold water bottle.

"Grazie" I say. My throat was starting to get a bit dry, as well as my lips. I opened the water bottle. While drinking the cold water, I noticed Trish. She was on the other side of the couch, her knees to her chest.

"Water or juice, Trish?" Bucciarati ask. She shakes her head dismissing both of Bucciarati's choices for a beverage. Bucciarati nods and goes to put the rest of the drinks in the refrigerator.

"So, we are almost to our destination?" Narancia asks. Fugo nods in reply.

"Yes, we are. Once we get there, we will be given further instructions. And give Trish to the boss. It won't be that hard of a task." Fugo pauses and looks at Bucciarati, who nods.

"Yes, you are correct, Fugo"

"What about the girl?" Abbacchio chimed in "What after?"

"I do not know for sure. We get this done first, then think of what to come."

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It's quiet. My office is quiet. I wonder if Bucciarati and the others, if they lived, would it be lively? Probably. But the loss of our dear friends, engraved a void in our hearts. A void that would never be filled. I sit at my desk and clasp my hands together. I close my eyes and listen to the sound of the creaking of the floorboards outside my room. Bothersome. I listen for the wind that soothes my soul, reminding me of Bucciarati. I want to see those dear friends again. At any cost. I want to see their faces again. Even if it's just a second.