Chapter 1 - Arrival

A young man of average build, dressed in a long-sleeved orange polo, moved through the bustling airport. His purple eyes, partially obscured by the tousled bangs of his spiky blonde hair, appeared unfocused as he walked, weaving through the crowd on instinct alone.

Occasional glances fell on the watch strapped to his right wrist before passersby returned to their affairs, many noting the faint aura of unease he projected. Even petty thieves instinctively kept their distance.

For over a year, this man - Pannacotta Fugo - had carried the weight of shame.

Back then, the decision had seemed logical, reasonable, even necessary. But since that fateful moment, he'd fled from the consequences. Despite hearing of the Boss's downfall, he hadn't sought out his old comrades.

After all, Bucciarati wouldn't have waited so long to reach out.

Perhaps it was irrational, but Fugo knew him too well. No matter how complex the situation was, if Bucciarati had been alive, he would have found a way to contact him.

And so, Fugo ran.

Who had survived? Who hadn't? How many had been forced to make sacrifices he could have prevented, had he stayed? The thought of facing those answers, or calling and receiving only silence, was unbearable.

Yet, he knew this confrontation was inevitable. Despite his volatile temper and often cold rationality, he longed to reconnect with his friends - those who might remain.

A sudden jolt interrupted his thoughts.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" a man snapped after bumping into him.

"I apologize. I wasn't paying attention.", Fugo replied smoothly in Japanese. Though he'd left formal schooling early, he'd continued studying for both himself and Narancia's sake.

That last thought soured his mood again, but he quickly shook it off. 'I never got to teach him any new languages...'

Cutting short the guilt before it spiraled further, he reminded himself to stay focused. Ironically, his current situation called for the very thing he'd often done in the past.

Tutoring.

Fugo was wary of the job's circumstances. His new employer had ties to the underworld he'd once left behind - though fortunately, the man officially ran a hospital and merely maintained these connections.

Maruo Nanako.

It was unsettling. He hoped Japan would offer him a quieter life, time to gather his courage to reach out to his former friends.

BUZZ!

His phone opened along with the sound coming. A notification displayed the details of a car waiting for him. Scanning the area, he spotted the black limousine with an older driver at the wheel.

Before he could tap on the window, the back door swung open. Fugo took the cue and entered, his small bag containing only essentials: money, clothes, and a few personal items.

"Hello. You must be Pannacotta?", The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror, though the question felt more like polite formality than confirmation.

"Yes, Pannacotta Fugo. I came from Italy to serve as Nanako-san's daughters' tutor." His Japanese earned a slight raise of the driver's eyebrow, but the man only nodded and pulled into traffic, heading toward the address Fugo had been provided. 

——————————————————————————————————

The car wove smoothly through the late afternoon traffic, the quiet hum of the engine a low backdrop to Fugo's thoughts. They passed through several city districts, each becoming quieter and more residential until they pulled up in front of a modest yet tidy apartment building nestled in a peaceful neighborhood.

"This is it.", The driver announced, nodding toward the building. "Nanako arranged the apartment as a gesture of welcome."

Fugo stepped out, lifting his bag from the car's backseat, and took a moment to examine the building. It was a modern structure, about five stories high, with a clean brick facade and narrow balconies. Neatly trimmed greenery framed the entrance, giving the place a surprisingly homey feel.

Inside, the foyer was simply decorated, with polished floors and a set of stairs that led to the upper levels. Fugo took the elevator to the third floor, his mind momentarily drifting back to Italy. It was strange to think of the bustling streets of Naples as something in his past—so familiar yet already feeling distant.

Arriving at his apartment door, he took a deep breath and turned the key. The apartment was modest, but far better than he'd anticipated. Sunlight filtered through large windows along the opposite wall, illuminating the simple but tasteful furniture: a small leather couch, a low coffee table, and a compact kitchenette along one side. A sliding door led out onto a narrow balcony that overlooked the street below.

He set down his bag and walked slowly through the apartment, taking in the details. There was a small, tidy bedroom with a comfortable-looking bed and a desk facing the window—a perfect setup for his work as a tutor. The kitchen was stocked with necessities, and he noted with some relief that the fridge held a few essentials as well.

Fugo let out a small, relieved sigh as he took in the space. It felt… safe. There was a sense of calm here, one he hadn't felt in a long time.

BUZZ!

His phone buzzed again, breaking the silence. It was another message from Nanako-san, confirming his first tutoring session once school starts and sending the old report cards of his daughters. Taking a peek, his mood turned so bad he almost wanted to break something but stopped beforehand. He never would have thought Narancia might still end up as his brightest student.

He glanced at his watch; there was still time to settle in before evening. Unpacking his bag, he neatly stored his clothes in the drawers provided and, hesitating slightly, he took out a photograph.

The faded image was one he hadn't looked at in a long time - a group shot taken at some forgotten moment in Naples. He stared at it, at the faces that had once been so familiar, his fingers tracing the edges. Bucciarati and Giorno's steady gazes, Abbacchio's frowning face, Mista's relaxed grin, Narancia's wide, childlike smile,… They each had their reasons for fighting, for sticking by each other, despite their lives' danger and chaos.

Placing the photo carefully against the wall, he shook off the creeping pang of guilt. He'd face his past in time. But right now, he has a new responsibility.

The ring of his phone brought him back to the present. He picked up, hearing the driver's voice on the other end.

"Just checking in, Pannacotta. Have you settled in alright?"

"Yes, thank you. The place is perfect.". Fugo's voice softened with genuine appreciation. "Please thank Nanako for me."

"Of course. You can call me Ebata. Best of luck with your work here." 

Fugo exhaled, letting his gaze drift back to the small space he now called home. Japan was far from the life he'd known, but maybe that was precisely what he needed.

After washing up, he sat down by the desk and began to review the materials sent for his new students, his mind gradually easing into the task. The uncertainty he felt about this new life lingered, but as he immersed himself in the routine, he allowed himself, if only for a moment, to feel hopeful.

Their grades were horrendous, yes, but Fugo believes no human being would be happy staying like that. It was the belief that was ingrained into him even if the people who told him that abandoned him.

They seem to be at their best in different areas, but mathematics seems to be the worst of almost all five. Covering the basics which they seem to lack at the start for each subject seems to be a decent idea. 

Fugo just hopes his wariness is for nothing and teaching is all he needs to do.

"Oh… I also have to go to school."

He also hopes he doesn't snap at a teacher again.

——————————————————————————————————

A hazy warmth spreads across his senses as if he were back in the familiar streets of Naples. He heard the bustling of vendors, the distant hum of scooters, and the familiar laughter of Narancia echoing off the stone buildings as they wandered through the crowded streets. But as he reached out, his hand fell through the image, and it dissolved like smoke.

Suddenly, he was in a dimly lit room, the kind he knew too well. It felt suffocating, the walls narrowing in, shadows crawling along the edges. There was no sound, just a thick, crushing silence.

Then, a voice.

"Fugo... why'd you leave?"

He turned, but there was only darkness. Yet the voice was unmistakable—Narancia's, thick with confusion and hurt. Fugo's heart raced. He tried to move, to search for his friend, but his legs felt rooted, heavy as lead.

"You were supposed to stay with us.", Narancia's voice whispered again, closer this time, piercing in its sadness. And then another voice joined, stern but familiar.

Bucciarati.

"I trusted you, Fugo. We trusted you."

The words were sharp, and Fugo's stomach twisted. He tried to speak, to explain, but his mouth wouldn't form the words. Instead, he was thrust into a memory he'd tried so hard to forget - a boat going and going further away, his feet stuck. His decision felt like an iron weight on his chest, a sickening pull he couldn't escape.

Around him, shapes began to emerge from the shadows—faces blurred and distant, yet he knew each one. Narancia, Bucciarati, Mista, Abbacchio, even Giorno—each one stared back at him, silent, their expressions solemn, almost empty.

"What would have happened if you'd stayed?" Mista's face looked sunken, his wide eyes darkened with shadows. Blood dripped slowly from his mouth, a sight that froze Fugo in place.

"Did you think it wouldn't catch up to you?" Abbacchio's voice was firm but filled with disappointment. "We all made our choices, Fugo."

Their forms flickered, melting into the dark. Fugo tried to reach out, desperation clawing at him, but he couldn't move. It was as if invisible chains held him down, forcing him to witness the ghosts of his past, haunting him for the choice he'd made.

Then, a sudden silence.

In the dimness, a figure stepped forward, illuminated only by the faintest light—a young boy, tall and awkward, but Fugo recognized him instantly even if he didn't know him for that long. Giorno stared at him with eyes that seemed too knowing, too empty.

"You left us to die."

The words hit him like a physical blow, and the darkness began to close in, suffocating him. He gasped for air, struggling.

A hand reached out, cold and clammy, grabbing his wrist and pulling him into the dark, deeper and deeper, as the familiar faces blurred around him, distorting, twisting in anger and betrayal. The cold seeped into his bones as the world around him faded.

——————————————————————————————————

Fugo jolted awake, drenched in a cold sweat. His heart pounded against his ribs as he looked around, disoriented, struggling to shake the remnants of the nightmare clinging to him.

His room was still dark, a faint outline of light slipping through the blinds. It took him a moment to realize he was in his apartment in Japan, far from Naples.

But even as he sat up, catching his breath, the words from his dream echoed in his mind, haunting him.

"You left us to die."

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Hello, everyone!

Ngl, I barely have time to write and this is also my first time actually trying it seriously so don't expect much.

I just like Fugo. Shame he didn't get used much.

If you didn't understand already, this is obviously AU. Haven't thought how far yet, but yeah, Purple Haze feedback didn't happen so no stand evolution for Fugo.

I will try to come up with original Stands and interesting fights if I even continue this.

But either way, Fugo would crash out more during tutoring than Purple Haze in total which btw does it multiple times per fight so yeah.

Thankfully Fugo hasn't been in the mafia for a while so he won't kill the sisters first encounter LMAO. He gets really pissed like a dad when asking questions, straight up attacking Narancia.