『Another World』 JJBA: Golden Wind x Reader ˎˊ-

|11| a bit of practice

Author Note:

yeah, i know it's been... years since i last updated. sorry about that everyone. i'll try and continue for my own as far as i can, no promises tho. my writing is better than before at least, i wrote this story when i was 15 and i am now 20 so, i'm sorry for many cringy and questionable parts you've read from ch.1 to ch.10 💀   also, i might just pull an Araki forgot moment from now on forward, as i matured and the story now is a bit different from what i thought of it 4 years ago. 

IT'LL BE LIKE A FRESH START STARTING FROM CHAPTER 11.

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Bruno turned to (y/n), his expression kind and supportive. "For today, I've arranged a little training routine for you with Mista while the rest of us handle some important matters."

Curiosity and anticipation swirled within (y/n) as she asked, "What kind of training?"

Bruno smiled, his eyes reflecting the confidence he had in her. "We'll be focusing on physical exercises to build more endurance."

"Oh," (y/n) replied, excitement flickering in her eyes. Training with Mista was a prospect she welcomed. She was eager to see how far she could push herself.

"It won't be too challenging initially, but it'll progressively get tougher. You should change into something more comfortable," Bruno advised. (y/n) nodded, acknowledging his suggestion.

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In the backyard, (y/n) stood face to face with Mista.

"So, what's the plan?" she asked with a hint of nervousness.

Mista flashed a friendly grin. "Let's start with a warm-up. Just follow my lead."

As they stretched and warmed up, the sound of joints cracking filled the air. (y/n) couldn't help but express how satisfying it felt.

"Oof... That kinda felt good," she mumbled to herself, noting the quizzical expression on Mista's face.

"Feeling okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's just that, well, it happens sometimes," (y/n) replied.

Mista led her through various exercises and running laps. After a few hours, (y/n) was drenched in sweat.

"Come on, (y/n)! Just two more laps!" Mista encouraged, racing ahead.

"*puff* How... HOW CAN YOU DO THIS?!" (y/n) exclaimed, her body aching and fatigue setting in.

Mista paused abruptly, causing (y/n) to collide with him. "Sorry, let's take a break for now. We'll aim to do this at least three times a week, and then Abbacchio will teach you some self-defense techniques," he explained.

"Self-defense class with Abbacchio?!" (y/n) gasped.

"Yeah," Mista said, a touch of pride in his voice. "He was a police officer before joining us, so he knows his stuff. Although, when it comes to guns, I'm the go-to guy."

(y/n) debated whether to tease Mista or feed his ego. After a moment of thought, she decided to go with a compliment. "You're undoubtedly the best gunslinger in the team. The best we've ever had."

Mista grinned and suggested, "Instead of a 5-minute break, how about we take a 10-minute one?"

...

With only one lap remaining, (y/n) pushed herself to finish her session, eagerly anticipating the post-training rewards.

"A little faster, (y/n)! You're almost done," Mista shouted from afar. She urged herself on, thoughts of rest, a warm shower, and a delicious meal after the workout spurring her forward.

As she neared the finish line for the final lap of the day, an unfortunate mishap occurred. Her shoelaces caused her to stumble, her legs giving out, and she fell to the ground without warning.

"F**k," she blurted out, her frustration escaping in her native language.

"(Y/n)!" Mista rushed to her side. She attempted to stand but couldn't; her legs, arms, and knees were scratched badly and bleeding. She whispered through teary eyes, "Ouch, ouch, ouch! It hurts so damn much."

Mista, concerned, tried to comfort her. "Okay, calm down. Giorno isn't here, so we'll have to use the med kit. (Y/n), can you stand up?"

"No! It f**king hurts," she cursed, her mind consumed by pain, much like the last time. Without another word, Mista lifted her into his arms, cradling her like a bride.

Her mind went blank at the sudden movement. "Okay, don't worry. I'll take you to the living room, and I'll do my best to attend to your wounds," Mista assured, though his skills in that area were uncertain. She pondered, 'TRY?! Does Mista even know how to attend to wounds at all? I'm doomed.'

Once in the living room, Mista gently placed her on the couch. She whimpered in pain as he quickly fetched a first aid kit from a nearby closet. He began tending to her arms, insisting, "Let me see your arms." She hesitated, her attempts to conceal something she didn't want others to know about momentarily forgotten. However, she hoped he might not notice amidst the scratches.

Mista stood silently, scrutinizing her arms. Without a word, he began cleaning her wounds. She winced in pain as the cotton soaked in alcohol touched her skin.

"I don't mean to intrude, but I've noticed some old scars on your arms. They seem too clean to be accidental," Mista said without looking up, his tone laced with concern.

She froze, uncertain of how to respond. "I... Um, what are you saying?"

Mista clarified, "I can distinguish between different scars, and the ones on your arms... They appear intentional, not accidental." His concern for her was evident.

Mista's words hung in the air, heavy with understanding and empathy. (y/n) found herself at a loss for words, caught off guard by his observation. The scars she had hidden so carefully had been noticed, and she was unsure how to respond.

Before she could muster a reply, Mista's focus shifted back to the task at hand. He continued to clean and disinfect her wounds, showing a level of care and gentleness that surprised her.

"I'm not here to judge, (y/n)," he finally said, breaking the silence. "We've all got our demons and our pasts. But if you ever want to talk about it or need someone to listen, we're here for you."

Tears welled up in (y/n)'s eyes, and she nodded, her voice cracking as she whispered, "Thank you, Mista."

Mista finished attending to her arms and moved on to the scratches on her legs and knees. They continued to talk as he worked, sharing small stories and anecdotes about their lives. As the minutes passed, (y/n) found herself opening up to Mista, discussing her struggles with with a few things.

In the midst of their conversation, (y/n) couldn't help but ask, "Why did you notice the scars on my arms?"

Mista paused for a moment, his eyes filled with understanding. "I've seen my fair share of pain and hardship. I've known people who went through tough times. Sometimes, it's just in the way a person carries themselves, the stories they tell, and the look in their eyes that gives it away."

As they finished tending to her injuries, Mista helped (y/n) up, and they made their way to the kitchen to prepare a light meal. The atmosphere had changed between them, and a newfound bond had formed. (y/n) felt a sense of belonging, acceptance, and support that she hadn't experienced in a long time.

As they sat down to eat, (y/n) realized that her escape into the Jojo universe had brought her not only to her beloved characters but also to people who understood and cared for her. She had embarked on a bizarre adventure of her own, and, with friends like Mista by her side, she felt that she could face whatever challenges lay ahead.