Chapter Text
He had been walking for five hours straight in what seemed like an endless forest. Having nothing on his persons except two apples, some hard tack, a half full water skin, and his tools of the trade: Guido Mista was, essentially, in a very bad position. The village he was supposed to be stopping in was around a seven hour walk at best, had plenty of roadside landmarks, couldn't miss it according to the locals. However, the short distance between afflicted cities in conjunction with the lulling calm of the landscape may have made the gunslinger a bit complacent. He was not as prepared for... wildlife survival.
Mista had officially gone nine and a half hours with no sight of the markers the previous village had told him about, and his map had been rendered completely useless some time ago. Due to the nature of his... profession, he was used to odd phenomena; strange weather, cursed things and people, dead things coming back to life, the occasional brush with a mystic creature, all fairly usual. This was slightly more unusual.
The path had, at some point, completely disappeared and the surrounding forest become a literal maze. Mista had thought trees all pretty much looked the same beforehand, but now he really was sure of it. Ordinarily, not having a path would be fine, he had a map and a compass and the sun. However, the last three times he checked his compass upon entering the forest, the needle had been spinning uncontrollably. He was terrified at what might happen the fourth time.
The sun had also seemed to have stayed constant for the entire hike, so either Mista was walking very quickly through the dense and treacherous underbrush, or something was very wrong. The gunman placed his bet on the latter. The forest on Mista's map wasn't even that large, spanning a few acres at best, so it rendered the map obsolete in the nicest terms.
He tried not to feel nervous about things.
It wouldn't do to keep aimlessly walking around like this though, he didn't have the supplies or patience for it, he needed to orient himself somehow. Sighing, stretching, Mista stopped and set down his paltry bags, glancing around for a suitable look-out tower from the surrounding trees. They all seemed of rather uniform height, but one lone oak had made a nest on a cleft of stone raising it above the rest by just enough. Unclasping his cloak and draping it over his cargo, the gunman rolled up the sleeves of his vestments, tightened his holsters, and began the climb upwards.
It wasn't too arduous, the branches fairly evenly placed, but by the time he reached a suitable height he was completely winded. The view didn't exactly help either. There was nothing but lush green woodland for miles on all sides. It was... frankly unprecedented and completely ridiculous. Sure, the land had been cursed by an ancient evil but there was usually a time frame for this kind of thing. The vampire lord had just supposedly finished its century-long slumber about a year ago, but this rampant growth seemed decades, maybe longer, in the making.
No wonder he got so lost and why he'll probably remain that way.
Squinting against the stupid, wrong sun Mista swore lowly. He couldn't even see where he had come in from, lost in the green haze on all sides. Sighing, the gunslinger made his way back down the tree. He'd at least need to rest up and find a water source, maybe see what could be scrounged up for dinner... lunch. Whatever time it could possibly be. Re-clasping cloak and cargo, the gunman continued on.
Time was increasingly nebulous, but the sharpshooter ended up discovering a tiny creek several possible hours later. Drinking his fill and looking around, he decided this might be the best spot to set up for a bit. There were a few comfy-enough looking trees to sleep in, and he could set up a small trap to catch something for a meal later. Gathering up some twigs and leaves, and then stretching out a short line of thin rope, the gunman set up a basic noose trap hidden in the underbrush. Mostly satisfied with his handiwork, he then found a nice bough high enough in a tree to sleep in without fear of being mauled by something and that wasn't so high up that it would kill him if he fell out. Getting settled as much as he could, Mista closed his eyes and let himself drift.
The sound of panicked screeching woke the gunman back up shortly after, as a moderately sized pheasant had gotten caught in the noose trap. Mista was just happy it was something edible. The sun was still exactly where it had been for the last who knows how long, but he felt well rested enough to say it may have been several hours. He should have brought a pocket watch, but then again, it might have pulled the same trick as his compass.
Hefting himself and his supplies down from his makeshift bed, Mista made short work of the very loud game bird. Setting up a modest fire-pit, he began the arduous process of plucking and cleaning. This was the reason- well one reason he wasn't a game hunter, nobody ever asks you to clean out a werewolf carcass. The meat was tender and juicy enough, and it left his empty belly finally satisfied so it was well worth the effort at least. Tidying up as much as he could, the gunman retrieved his rope and moved closer to the creek. He should might as well follow it, as most villages tend to spring up along waterways.
A long hike led him to the source of the creek; a set of granite stone outcroppings with natural springs welling up from around it, flowing into a small clear water pool. The water looked incredibly clean and felt cool to the touch, and the amount of grime that came off the hand he dunked in had him cringing. He was disgusting right now, but he had been walking for quite some time. He hadn't seen a single sign of human civilization around the area, so he could probably get away with taking a short bath before moving on, maybe even wash his clothes a bit.
Shucking off his cloak and then undergoing the long and tedious process of unbuckling all of his ammo belts and holsters, Mista stripped down to bare flesh, dunking all his more readily washable clothing into the shallows. Roughly scrubbing until they would be clean enough, before wringing them and leaving them out on a rock to dry under the harsh awful sun. Stepping into the water, he twitched involuntarily at how cold the water really was against his sun warmed skin. The grease, dirt, and sweat coming off him in tides was well worth the chill, however.
Acclimating nicely, he found himself relaxing at how serene this little alcove was. The various bird songs and the sound of gentle winds against the leaves in the trees was rather soothing all things considered. These woods were surprisingly full of life and the spring was a natural beauty, a truly rare occurrence given they sprang up in tainted land. Mista's current assignment wasn't well know for curating life, so much as enslaving or killing it.
It wasn't long before a leaf crunching behind where was leaning up against the rocks of the pool snapped him from his relaxation. It would have been easily missed if the hunter wasn't so tuned to listen for sounds like it.
Something was behind him and making sure not to be noticed.
Carefully and slowly, Mista slid a hand into his nearby holster, wrapping tan fingers around the handle. Mentally counting down from three, he sprung to a stand, gun pointing immediately to the source of the noise. He was met by a slight figure under the shade of a tree, wearing a navy hood and white gloves, all of a bit too fine a quality to be found traipsing through a labyrinthine woodland. It was suspicious and Mista found himself unconsciously cocking back the hammer to his revolver. The cloaked stranger merely raised its hands in a show of surrender.
"I didn't mean to startle you" a voice that was sultry, and hard to determine a gender.
"Is that why you were sneakin' around then?"
"I've been out in these woods for some time, I've gotten too used to watching my steps. I do apologize for my lack of manners."
At that, the figure slowly moved to lower the hood shrouding it's face. Mista tensed, half expecting a hideous gorgon or similar, and half because what he got was the opposite. Molten gold hair and piercing eyes the color of a calm sea, an angular but beautiful face, pale pink line marring the alabaster skin under his left eye. He looked otherworldly, which unfortunately, was what Mista specialized in hunting.
Mista was sent here to kill a blond vampire and who does he happen to run into in the middle of an un-navigable, cursed forest surrounding the castle of said vampire? A mysterious, ethereal blond with too pale skin and wearing layers to protect from the burning sun? It was too much of a coincidence.
"You've been in these woods for a long time then? How long?"
"About a year, by rough estimate."
This was getting better and better.
"How interesting," Mista chuckled lowly.
"Oh?"
"You see, I happen to be looking for a blond who lives in these woods. One who appeared about a year ago."
"That is certainly interesting." The stranger was seemingly unfazed, as if he had nothing to worry about.
"So imagine my surprise when someone, who is a damn good match to that description, just happens to find me out here."
"You are looking for Dio Brando?"
"I am."
"How fortunate then. I am as well, he killed my father, but ah...” the blond suddenly looked earnest.
"Oh?"
"I've heard he's rather powerful. So I've been here, guiding villagers out of the woods and looking for help. You and I have the same objective, we could work together."
The blond stranger seemed honest, and mostly harmless, but Mista still couldn't help but still feel suspicious. The gunman kept his revolver resolutely pointed between the blonds eyes, dutifully ignoring the water drying on his bare skin.
"This all sounds far too good to be true, you know that, right?"
"I understand your hesitancy."
"How do I know you aren't the vamp I'm lookin' for?"
With burning eyes, the blond stepped backwards, hands still raised, into the blazing sunlight behind him, the light giving his head a blazing halo. It was beautiful, the kind of thing some great artist would paint in a chapel somewhere. It almost tempted the hunter into lowering his revolver.
"My name is Giorno Giovanna and I am not a vampire."
The fact he wasn't readily turning to ash was pretty convincing... but the sun wasn't right anyway, and the blond stepped back into the shade as soon as he finished his speech so he was still suspect. This boy was gonna have to try harder than that to convince him.
"Come here and prove it," waving his gun for good measure.
There was still some shade from the sun between them thanks to the densely packed trees, but there were other methods to test for vampirism. Giorno slowly made his way over to the gunman, still standing naked at the shallow edge of the pool. He was a scant distance away, the gun pressing into his chest. Tentatively stepping forward, Mista closed the gap and quickly grabbed the blonds jaw with his free hand, relishing the thinly veiled angry look he was sent in retaliation.
Pressing the gun further into the other mans chest, Mista tugged down "open your mouth, kid."
If looks could kill, "I'm not a child."
"Whatever. I said open."
The blond relented after one last glare, revealing pearly white, plain human teeth. His canines were a tad longer than usual, but not the elongated and knife-sharp ones found in vampires. The skin of his jaw and chin was warm, as was his breath, not the cold, dead and rotten of the undead. He was very much alive and somehow human.
A hum, "I guess you aren't a vampire after all."
"Thank you," practically dripping in sarcasm.
"It's still awfully suspicious though. Back up a bit will ya?"
The blond obliged, making his way back under the shade of the trees with a haughty, "first you want to come forward and now you want me to back away."
The guy, Giorno must have hit his limit at some point, politeness thrown to the wayside in favor of indignation.
Mista just rolled his eyes, "I'm tired of standing here in the nude. Mind yourself, if you do anything funny I'll shoot."
"And here I was thinking I had merely run into a deviant."
"Far as I can tell, there's no such thing as merely running into someone out here. You sought out this supposed deviant, so what does that make you?"
The blond had been unabashedly staring at the gunman's body for the entire duration of their conversation. It would have been off-putting to anyone else, but Mista lacked both shame and modesty creating a combination that relished attention of all kinds.
"Guilty as charged," with a wry grin and mischievous eyes. "I saw the smoke and followed the prints by the creek."
"An amateur tracker too."
"You never answered my earlier question," piercing eyes locked on Mista's face.
Well that was because he hadn't actually given it a serious consideration. The kid- Giorno, looked slight and posh, like some pampered son of a noble who had never worked a day. What could he possibly provide, other than fodder?
Mista couldn't help but give a slight sneer, thick eyebrows quirking as he belted up his trousers, "I didn't think you were serious about it."
He must have hit a nerve given the dark look he was getting, "why would I not be serious?"
"You don't exactly come off as a hands on type. You wanna come with me through vampire infested lands? What can you even do?"
That haughty look was back, "I have a skill set."
"I'm not interested in a liability hanging off me."
"I can assure you," blue eyes narrowed and blond brows furrowed, "I'm not the one bound to become a liability. You should be more concerned about yourself."
That made it sound like he knew something Mista didn't. It was intriguingly vague, but he already knew he had been hooked.
"Fine, I accept your offer."
The blond smiled knowingly, like he just won a bet he knew was rigged in his favor.
"Tell me what you know though, all of it."
"Walk with me then, there's a bit of ground to cover."
"Walk with you where?"
The gunman asked, but he was already following after the strange boy who began deftly stepping through the woodlands like he owned the place.
"A hunting cottage that was abandoned almost a hundred years ago, owned by the same family that owned the land and the keep in the center of it."
The gunman was making a game attempt at keeping up with Giorno, but had to focus on his footsteps. The blond made it look too easy.
"Currently, all of the land owned by the family have been cursed by Dio Brando. The eternal sun is his doing."
"And these woods?"
The blond hesitated for just a split second, "his as well."
"Right. So why is a vamp using sunlight to curse his land?"
"It will not follow us into the town or the keep, but it will dehydrate and disorient would-be mortal intruders. It is a slow and painful death. You were fortunate to be found by me, as there are more nefarious things ambling around these woods than you'd expect."
Mista couldn't help rolling his eyes "right."
"There were two villages, a small outpost, and then a town surrounding the castle is in the center, as well as a few small hunting cabins," the blond continued.
"You say that like none of it exists anymore."
Giorno looked back with a sad frown, "the town is no more, and the villages have all succumbed to his hunger. I got as many villagers out as I could but..."
"I see. So I guess looking for survivors is not really an option."
With a quiet voice, "no, it is not the most pressing concern."
"You are taking all of this pretty personally. What's your connection to it all? Where do you fit into this story?"
The blond looked back with quirked eyebrows, "I had already told you. Dio Brando killed my father."
Playing coy, huh?
"Sure, fine, if that's the story you are sticking to," smugly.
There was more to it, something the blond was keeping secret, but the gunman was content to let it go for now. There would be plenty of time to learn whatever it was, especially since they were now partners.
"How about you? I can tell you are a hunter, but why are you here? Dio Brando will not be the easiest prey."
"Money, mostly, but also for freedom. Killing the big bad Dio will take 80 years off my sentence, making me a free man."
At that the blond looked back in shock, "you are some kind of criminal?"
Thick eyebrows raised, "is it really so surprising?"
"I've never heard of a criminal let out to go and... well..."
"This way just means you die from some monster eating you rather than rotting in a prison."
"I suppose, but are you ah... familiar with hunting the supernatural?"
Mista couldn't help but chuckle, "you think they let just anyone do this sort of thing?"
An indignant huff, "It's what it sounded like."
"This is far from my first hunt, and I've never missed a single shot."
Although he'd never gone for anything as big as Dio, but there were others like him, hunting for freedom, so options were getting limited. Dio Brando was a sentient vampire, a completely different breed that had all the brute strength familiar to its kind but retained the wits from its previous life.
Killing him would be difficult, even with the specially made rounds, but the allure of freedom was powerful. He could kill small fry- there was never a shortage of wights, living corpses, or lycanthropes... but he'd be stuck hunting for years, maybe even more than a decade. He had 72 years left to pay after all. The blond had slipped into a silence as they continued their trek through the undergrowth, no doubt trying to figure out what the hunter had done. Might as well save him the trouble.
"I killed five men. They were tryin' to force their way on a woman, so I pulled the one on top off and gave him a good right hook."
The blond had stopped in his tracks to listen with rapt attention.
"They all had guns though, so the other four started firin' at me. The guy I punched, he dropped his when I hit him... so I picked up-"
"While they were firing at you?"
"Mhm, I had never held a gun before that, but it seemed easy enough to use, so I looked and all the chambers were filled up. So I aimed, and fired five shots."
"And they all hit?"
"Right between the eyes."
The blond was looking at him with a mixture of incredulity and something else that had Mista's heart suddenly lurching. Admiration. People didn't often admire Guido Mista. He was a murderer, branded as such a few enough years ago to still be fresh in the collective mind of the populace. A hunter of the supernatural was not an envied task, a job often set alongside that of a gravedigger, a garbage collector; necessary but left much to be desired. Mista had to avert his eyes, continuing his story.
"The woman ran off, so I was charged with slaughtering five men, in cold blood, because who would believe that a man who had never held a gun, could hit five targets, while under fire? To make matters worse... one was the only son of a government official. I was sentenced to 215 years in prison, and labeled a murderer, but was offered a hunter position. I became rather... infamous for it. You might've heard of Guido Mista the murderer, and that... that would be me."
The blond was still staring at him, sky blue eyes locked on his own dark ones, before turning and continuing the trek in silence.
"It sounds..."
"Crazy?"
"Well, yes, but also like you might just be who I'm looking for in this endeavor."
"How nice of you to say," incredibly vague too.
"Mmm, you are welcome. Continuing on with the story I suppose, the last person to fight Dio Brando was a descendant of Jonathan Joestar, the adoptive brother to Dio and owner of the land. While Jonathan had stopped Dio two hundred years ago, the cunning vampire was able to return a hundred years afterwards. He barely survived his brush with Kujo Jotaro however, and supposedly his body has not quite recovered."
"You know a lot about this kind of thing," dark eyes narrowing.
"My father had a passion for history," a wistful half-smile curling pink lips.
"I see, what happened to this Kujo guy?"
"Nobody knows... he had a daughter but ah, there's not much else on them. The Joestars are all but memory now."
"Huh."
What a depressing end, a legacy just cutting out.
"So what did your father do to get uh..."
The blond chuckled, "killed?"
Mista flushed, he really had no tact, "that."
"He stood up to Dio and tried to stop him."
"Ah, I see."
Time passed in silence, but a more comfortable one this time. There was a surprising amount of history to this place, but it made the hunter uneasy to think that Dio had been able to evade death multiple times now.
"Oh, we've arrived."
True enough, an aged cottage could be seen through the trees, nestled into a cozy grove next to what looked like a still-water pond.
"It's rather derelict, but it has been in relative disuse for two hundred years or so. The nearby village used to tend to it, but ah..."
"Times change, right?"
"Mm, this used to be quite a pretty landscape too, but a river was dammed up further away... so all the tributaries dried up."
The blond wistfully ran a gloved hand along a post railing along the outside stoop. For a centuries old stone and wood cottage it was in surprisingly great shape. The logs and paneling were worn and bleached, but the waxy seals were relatively fresh, and care was taken to fill in the chipped and eroded grouting and caulking. The roof was a series of wooden shingles that looked like they had been replaced sometime in the last decade. The lawn around the building had overgrowth and some creeping vines, but the stonework stepping stones to the roofed stoop were clear.
Derelict his ass, there were brand new buildings with less care given to them, "this is where you've been staying then?"
"Yes, it's a lovely place though ah, I wasn't fond of some of the decor at first."
Seeing the hunters thick eyebrows quirked in question he added, "taxidermy. It was far more cosy after moving all of the... trophies, to the attic loft."
Mista chuckled as Giorno fumbled with the door handle, "not much of a hunter, huh?"
"Oh, no, I'm rather fond of nature as it were. I can't even bring myself to eat any sort of meat,” making their way inside, “there's only a single bedroom, but it has a large bed as well as a trundle. There is also the sofa if you prefer. I imagine we can do a bit of resting and planning before heading to the village."
Mista pulled the door closed behind himself, setting down his cargo near the entryway, "why head to the village? Why not go straight to the town?"
Giorno was scrounging through some of the cabinets in what must be the kitchen area, "because there will be a road, one that leads directly to town. And as much as I love a good romp through the forest, it will be much faster this way."
"Ah, good point," Mista watched as the strange boy pulled out a kettle and a tin, "these villages... is there anything in them I should know about?"
Blue eyes looked over at him thoughtfully, "the closest one, the one we'll use to get to the city, has a trained falcon in it. There may also be some undead in the buildings, hiding from the sun. It would be best to leave as soon as we get there."
At that the gunman couldn't help but chuckle, "a trained falcon?"
Blond eyebrows quirked, "it's terribly viscous. Haven't you seen a bird attack someone? It is a predator, after all."
"But really, a trained falcon is left terrorizing the remnants of a village? You act like it's a nightmarish fiend."
"It is. It's killed six people."
"That sounds made up."
The blond irately unclasped his hooded cloak and hung it up before pulling off his long gloves, revealing pink scars trailing his pale wrists and arms, "it isn't."
Mista's eyes widened, "are all those from a bird!?"
"Not all of them, but many, yes."
"What the hell."
"I told you it was viscous. It will be best to hurry through, before it sees us"
"Why not just... go around? Or skip it?"
The blond looked sheepish, turning towards his kettle, "it ah, may have been awhile since I have been back in that village. I... I will need to orient myself when we arrive, to find the path to the town."
A low chuckle, "you don't remember, do you?"
Giorno gave a side-eyed glare, "I did not forget, it's merely been some time since I passed through."
Mista settled into the sagging sofa, "sure, sure. It still sounds like you forgot, but sure. Unless you have a stockpile of food and supplies here though, we may need to go loot some from that village, hawk or not."
A hum, "I was hoping we could wait until we reached the town. I don't know which would be safer."
Mista stretched, the couch was old and falling apart but just comfy enough to probably sleep on. Probably. Sleeping next to or near a stranger was... well it made him itch for his revolver, so the bedroom was out of the question.
"We can discuss the details on the way, either one sounds dangerous, it just depends on how uh, proactive we wanna get."
"I suppose so," the blond was looking at him funnily, "you want to sleep in here?"
"Yes, if uh, unless you wanted to have the couch."
"Do you not want any of the real beds? The trundle is still solid, and the bed is quite large enough, even for two men."
"Ah, no thanks really, I'm fine here."
An incredulous look passed the blonds face before a minute blip of disappointment, carefully swept away as fast it had appeared. It made Mista want to laugh at how obvious he was, and also made something else crawl up his spine. He didn't know what to make of the feeling though, so he tamped it back down.
"Hm. Well I've made some tea if you would like some," grasping a chipped ceramic mug in those scarred pink hands.
"I appreciate the thought, but no thanks," the thought of taking a drink from a stranger, even if they seemed mostly harmless, had his stomach in knots.
Humming, the blond walked off with his still steaming cup, "I suppose I'll see you whenever you feel ready to leave."
Waving the blond off, Mista settled into the rickety sofa, revolver loaded and close at hand. When Giorno was gone, and the door to the bedroom shut, he finally allowed his eyes to close, restlessly dreaming of pearly white fangs and glimpses of soft blue.