Giorno Giovanna

Giorno Giovanna had a dream: to become a gang-star.

That dream was still far from being realized, and for the time being, he had no plans to pursue it.

Because

he was only thirteen years old.

Right now, he was merely an ordinary student at an ordinary middle school in Naples.

At this very moment, not only was Giorno not making his way through the underworld as he wished, he was instead riding a school bus with a group of naïve, childish little brats on a boring spring trip.

That was right. In Giorno's eyes, his classmates were basically all little brats he could not communicate with.

Unlike those immature students who had no idea what the world was like or how cruel reality could be, Giorno had an extremely unfortunate childhood:

His biological father, whose identity was unknown, had never appeared in Giorno's life. The man seemed to have died long ago, leaving behind only an eerie photograph where his face could not be seen clearly.

And his biological mother, a fashionable modern woman who had grown up during Japan's great bubble era, happened to be a frivolous woman unwilling to shoulder the responsibilities of motherhood, knowing only how to seek pleasure in bars and nightclubs.

From infancy, Giorno had grown accustomed to a lonely life by himself. At the age of four, he followed his mother when she married an Italian man, leaving his hometown of Tokyo for Naples on the other side of the world.

The loneliness of having no one care for him, the misery of being far from home, and the endless pain brought by the malicious abuse of his awful stepfather.

Giorno had grown up amid suffering.

He was strong, composed, mature, steady, exceptionally intelligent, and flawless.

Because of these distinctive qualities, Giorno seemed very out of place among his mediocre middle school classmates.

It was obvious to the naked eye:

At this very moment, he sat silently and unobtrusively in the window seat of the second-to-last row on the school bus, watching the scenery outside.

He wore nothing more than the same black student uniform as the other students around him.

Yet even so, Giorno's sharply sculpted, resolute features, like an ancient Greek statue; his deep azure eyes, like the surface of the Mediterranean; his naturally curly golden hair, bright as the sun; and his subtly defined, beautifully contoured muscles—

all completely exposed just how different he was.

And those who were different were always lonely.

Giorno's extraordinary aura attracted the admiring gazes of girls, but it also drew the hostility and jealousy of school bullies.

Even as Giorno quietly leaned against the window and watched the scenery, some boys who did not like the sight of him came over to cause trouble.

"Hey, hey. Giorno!"

A tall, burly guy approached with several lackeys in tow.

"Shouldn't your hair be black?"

"How did it suddenly turn gold?"

"Hahaha!"

"Did you think your Eastern face was too ugly, so you dyed that ugly black mop of yours?"

They wore nasty grins, openly mocking Giorno's Eastern heritage.

It was not really racial discrimination. They were merely using it as an excuse—because of Giorno's immense popularity among girls, as well as his usual aloof attitude toward his classmates, these ill-tempered boys had long found him irritating.

"..."

Giorno was silent for a moment before calmly saying,

"You're overthinking it. I didn't dye my hair."

Humans were naturally xenophobic. Ever since arriving in Italy with a head of pure black hair, he had suffered plenty of cruel treatment because of it.

Yes, although most Italians had black hair as well, Giorno's black hair, inherited from his Eastern bloodline, had never looked the same in their eyes—it was the most obvious mark of him being an outsider, a physical trait destined to be rejected.

But Giorno had not dyed away his black hair.

His current head of naturally curly, brilliant golden hair had suddenly changed only a few days ago.

And at the same time as that strange change in hair color, Giorno had suddenly discovered that he seemed to possess some kind of special ability that ordinary people simply could not see.

Of course, he would not explain any of that to his classmates.

There was no need for him to explain, nor did he deign to.

"Hey, hey!"

"You didn't dye it? Do you take us for blind, Giorno?!"

Giorno responded calmly, but the bullies only became more aggressive.

"You secretly dyed your hair gold, and now you're too guilty to admit it?"

"Pah!"

"What a lowly outsider..."

The tall leader viciously cursed Giorno for being an immigrant, while the lackeys behind him loudly joined in the mockery.

Unfortunately, Giorno remained unmoved.

That cold indifference, as though he were completely ignoring them, made the bullies realize how little Giorno thought of them, only further igniting the rage of these ignorant boys.

"Bastard..."

"Just admit it already!"

"You dyed your hair such an eye-catching gold on purpose. Are you trying to trick the girls at school into looking at you again?"

The hazy jealousy of adolescence gradually transformed into pure malice.

The tall leader not only raised his voice in anger and humiliation, but even brazenly reached out to fiddle with the three "doughnuts" on Giorno's head. No, those three naturally curled golden hair swirls.

Only then did Giorno raise his head.

"What boring people."

His face darkened as he spoke in a calm yet forceful voice.

"Don't make me say the same thing twice."

"If something can be understood after being said once, yet needs to be said a second time, that means the listener's brain is in bad shape."

He fixed the bully before him with those deep sea-green eyes. A terrifying aura suddenly appeared on his youthful yet resolute face.

"I already told you. I didn't dye my hair."

"Please don't make me say it a third time."

"Th-this..."

The bullies all shuddered.

With just one expression, Giorno made them instinctively feel fear.

What kind of expression was that...?

They could not find the words to describe it. If they absolutely had to use one phrase to depict Giorno at that moment, it could only be—

a face like Dio.

But the intimidation of sheer presence could only last for so long.

The bullies quickly remembered their advantage in numbers, as well as the fact that Giorno had just insulted them to their faces.

"You little punk..."

"You actually dared to say our brains are bad!"

They raised their fists high, seemingly about to resort to violence the next second.

Yet Giorno's expression remained calm, so calm that those little brats who had barely grown any hair could not help but feel uneasy.

"Don't be afraid!"

Trying to bolster his side's morale, the tall leader shouted fiercely despite his inner weakness.

"This brat is just putting on an act!"

"He's only a little more muscular. Can he really beat all of us by himself?"

"Yeah!"

"Don't let Giorno scare you!"

One lackey immediately chimed in, taking the chance to joke about a hugely popular fighting game from Giorno's homeland of Japan that was all the rage among their generation.

"He's just some brat from Japan..."

"What are you scared of? That he'll use a 'Hadouken' and 'Shoryuken' on you?!"

"..."

Giorno closed his eyes and let out an almost imperceptible sigh.

Honestly.

Dealing with brainless people is too troublesome.

Since you insist on causing trouble, I can only teach you a lesson.

"Make your move, Gold."

Giorno slowly opened his eyes, and a firm hostility now surged within them.

"Shoryuken!!"

A startled cry suddenly rang out inside the school bus.

Naturally, Giorno had not shouted the name of that move. It was the astonished cry of a sharp-eyed boy who had been utterly shocked.

That was right.

Under the watchful eyes of half the bus, an ordinary grove in the park outside the window suddenly launched a ball of glowing energy remarkably similar to the "Shoryuken" from the Street Fighter games.

It shot toward them along a vertical trajectory, then collided head-on with the speeding school bus.

Even stranger, the "energy ball" passed directly through the bus's metal body, flew into the cabin, and, by sheer coincidence, struck the tall boy who had just insulted Giorno.

Then, in the very next second.

"Echoes Act!"

A muscular Eastern man with a gleaming bald head suddenly "flew" straight in through the window.

Like a ghost, he passed directly through the metal barrier of the bus, stirring up a gust of wind and afterimages in the air.

In the end, he stopped at high speed and delivered a flying kick straight into the tall boy's stunned face.

The previously arrogant bully staggered to the ground on the spot, his face swelling rapidly like foaming sponge.

"Sorry."

"That was already the lightest force I could manage."

The bald man spoke politely. "No matter what, thank you for appearing here."