Chapter Text
Burning, excruciating pain. That’s all Vinegar Doppio could think about. Every heaving breath sent a domino effect of bone-chilling agony through his body. Barely conscious, he vaguely sensed the fiery pain came from his core. How long have I been unconscious for?
With his next breathe, however, he felt cold liquid enter his lungs. He felt himself dip below the surface of water he wasn’t aware was present. Somehow he had been transported from the Colosseum into the Tiber River. But he didn’t have the time to think about why or how when he was actively beginning to drown. With a surge of adrenaline one only gets in a life or death situation, his suffering was pushed to the back of his mind as he used aching limbs to propel himself to the shore. Grasping onto the wall with near inhuman strength, he pulled his body up onto the brick surface of river’s wall.
Sputtering and coughing up water, Doppio managed to lean against a taller stone wall while he tried to keep his senses. Something felt just… wrong about him. It wasn’t his injuries, though they were intense and clouded his mind. Doppio was used to pain, ever since he was a little kid. In fact, those were his only childhood memories, but that was not what was important at the moment. He wished desperately that the Boss’s voice could reassure him.
The Boss. He was supposed to receive a call from the Boss. Unless…
No. We had to have won. We could not have failed. We always win, with the Boss’s help we are unstoppable. Right?
A new surge of searing abdominal pains washed over him. A weak croak came from his throat, all he could muster as a cry for help. The Boss would be here soon, or call him on someone’s phone. He had to.
Somebody was walking towards him. Is the Boss finally here? No, it couldn’t be. This person was far too young. It appeared to be a teenager with blonde hair and a rather lean build. He was approaching Doppio at a rather relaxed rate, clearly not worried about being attacked while Doppio was in such a compromised state.
“Get away from me, kid, before you regret it,” Doppio growled, though his words came out a lot shakier than he intended. “Just…go call an ambulance or something.”
The kid didn’t answer him, instead manifesting a golden light around him. Doppio quickly recognized that the teen was summoning a Stand, which only meant one thing.
“You’re the bastard who’s trying to kill the Boss!”
The kid didn’t respond, simply holding out a light-encased hand that hovered over Doppio’s stomach. “H- Hey, what are you doing? Haven’t your friends injured me enough? I’m going to b-bleed out anyways…”
Without a second of hesitation, the blonde pushed his hand into the wound. Doppio let out a guttural scream as he felt his internal organs being rearranged, as though the bullets recently shot through his abdomen were being pulled out one by agonizing one. He watched in horror as the already torn skin on his abdomen was stretched to allow the shards to pass through. It was pure torture.
Yet as suddenly as his suffering had started with that damned Sex Pistol’s shots, it came to a halt. His head cleared and the blurriness in his vision faded. More recollections of the recent fight came back to him, and he realized as he sat up that he was no longer in Bruno Bucciarati’s body.
Doppio did a quick run over of his current physical condition. Feeling his stomach muscles, he found that despite the blood covering it, the wound had been instantaneously healed alongside the other injuries. Somehow, this kid’s Stand had returned his organs and bones to their original healthy condition. But why?
As Doppio realized that he said that last part aloud, the golden boy said his first words.
“I need to interrogate you. After all, you were the closest to the former Boss out of everyone in my mafia. Once the questioning is done, my closest subordinates and I will decide what to do with you.”
“Former Boss”? “My mafia”? Who the hell does this kid think he is?
“I know that you couldn’t be talking about La Passione. Because the Boss has just won his fight against you and your idiot gangster friends, and will allow me to remain as his most trusted and loyal underboss!”
An almost pitying expression crossed the boy’s face. Golden Boy kept a cool tone as he replied. “He is dead. Or rather, he will never see the light of reality again. My name is Giorno Giovanna, the killer of Diavolo and the new Boss of Passione.”
No. No no no no no no no. This is a prank. This is some sort of psychological trick. It’s not the truth it can’t be God please just take me instead this isn’t real-
But Doppio felt in his newly restored gut that the Boss, or Diavolo, as he should call him, had been defeated. That was what he had been feeling since he awoke. The connection he’d felt alongside him since childhood had dissipated.
The only living person who Doppio felt he truly cared about was gone.
———————————————————————
When Doppio opened bloodshot, light brown eyes, he cursed to himself. How had he managed to black out again? As he gained awareness of his surroundings, he realized he was no longer on the riverbed. Blinking rapidly to adjust to bright lights, he saw that he was in a sort of plain room alongside 2 teenage boys, a young girl, and what seems to be the ghost of a middle-aged man.
He recognized the older boy as the user of the Stand Sex Pistols, who shot him nearly to death. He recognized the girl as Trish Una, daughter of the Boss, or Diavolo I suppose I should say now. The man was Polnareff, who he briefly interacted with before one of his memory blocks. And finally, there was Giorno. The new Boss.
The consciousness slowly returning to Doppio allowed him to recognize the four people were arguing. From what he could tell, they were arguing about him.
“He killed Abbacchio! We can’t possibly write that off as just another mistake!”
“And you all killed countless other gangsters to protect me and escape Diavolo! Even I killed people…”
“Oh come on, you just want to save somebody connected to your father-“
“Silence from everyone.” Giorno stood up to hush the others with newfound respect. “It appears Doppio has awoken. The least we can do for him is explain his… situation.”
Doppio slowly rose, still sore from his recent recovery.
“Look, I know the B- Diavolo is dead. And I truly am sorry for taking your friend’s life, but I had to do it under orders. I promise it was nothing personal, and after l- losing the closest thing to family I had, I’d prefer to not be involved with gang activity any longer. Trying to gain revenge for my Boss would be futile without his assistance. It’s better off for me to mourn, move on, and stay out of this life. If you will excuse me, I sincerely wish you all the best and I plan to not interfere with La Passione. Perhaps I’ll move to America…”
“Polnareff, shall you do the honors?”
“No, it’d be too much of a shock right now, we don’t want him fainting again. Perhaps we should all just introduce ourselves. I’ll go first. My name is Jean-Pierre Polnareff, and I was killed by Diavolo 36 hours ago. My spirit is bound to this turtle’s Stand, known as Mr. President, and I believe you deserve a second chance at life. After all, I once served an evil man not knowing any better. I don’t even know how many innocent lives I took under the control of the flesh-bud, but I was given a second chance and I seized it to avenge those I loved and save the world. And I believe if you get a chance, you may too.”
Polnareff glanced at Trish, acknowledging her to go next. She nervously fiddled with her choker before turning to Doppio.
“My name is Trish Una, user of the Stand Spice Girl. You already know me as the daughter of your Boss, Diavolo, but I am much more than that. I believe everybody deserves a chance to live their lives free from the binds of their past or heritage, and that the present is what matters most. That is why I believe that you, Doppio, should be given a chance to live free of your other personali- of your Boss.”
Mista gave an exaggerated sigh when he realized the introductions had gotten to him.
“The name’s Mista. Guido Mista. I don’t know what the hell these people are on about. You killed my da- one of my most trusted friends, and I don’t know how they all expect me to just forgive you. I never will. You deserve to die in the same painful way he did. Go ahead Polnareff, tell him about the true bastard he is on the inside.”
“Don’t be so harsh, Mista. Let’s remember that Diavolo and Doppio are different people. But Doppio, there’s something you need to know.”
Silver eyes stared into brown ones, gazes unbroken as the man said his next words.
“Have you ever heard of Split Personality Disorder?”
Doppio felt a bit irritated. He wasn’t stupid after all. “Of course I have, but why?”
“What if I told you some people aren’t born with just mental illnesses causing a split? There are people in the world who are born with one body, but two personalities. Sometimes, one personality is unaware of the other being located within the same body, or even of the other’s existence.
“The switch between the two personalities can be physical as well as mental, with differences in height and weight, ability, and even age. However, one thing that does not change between personalities is the Stand. A Stand can only be controlled by a singular personality at a time, and is shared between the two personalities.
“Not much is known about what occurs if one personality is removed while the other remains. Therapists and psychiatrists have attempted this, but the supernatural nature prevents it from occurring unless something were to place the two personalities into separate bodies, and one was killed off before the other returned to the original body.
“Hypothetically, when the surviving personality returned to the body, it would become ‘normal’ per se, without a secondary personality at all and permanent control over the Stand if they are a Stand user. The personality would be able to lead a life free of switching until its own death.”
Polnareff ceased to talk for a moment, and Doppio took the chance to interrupt.
“Look, this is all very interesting, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t see how any of this is relevant. If you haven’t noticed, my entire life as I knew it has been uprooted and while I respect all of you, you still murdered my Boss. I know that you had your reasons, and as someone who’s killed others myself, I can understand the lack of grudge behind the murder. But the Boss was the only person who ever cared about me… and I loved him like a brother. I can’t be thought to just move on. I-,“ Doppio’s voice cracked, “-need to have some time to think.”
“Giorno, is it the right time?”
“Yes. He deserves to know.”
Polnareff stood up, something he was only able to do in spirit form.
“Vinegar Doppio, you were not just the most trusted underboss to Diavolo, former Boss of La Passione mafia. In fact, you were closer to him than you were even aware of. For 33 years, your soul has shared a body with the soul of Diavolo, formerly known as Solido Naso. You are the alternate personality of Diavolo, but after Diavolo’s death within your shared body, your soul returned from Bucciarati’s to become the sole life force controlling this body. Diavolo is dead, you are alive, and you are now the primary user of the Stand King Crimson.”