Risotto Nero, those who knew of the name either feared it, respected it or is now six feet under. He was the leader of La Squadra, the hitman team of Passione. As expected, he’s a man of efficiency, which entailed coldblooded power. It helped his job that his Stand, Metallica, was such a gorey one too.

Little do others know, however, that his giant of a man could hold such a sweet way of loving. He didn’t believe it himself. He was a dirty fighter, after all. His hands were used to violence and burtality, not gentleness or care.

Yet that’s what he found himself doing, knowingly or not. The tinge of softness in Risotto’s grumble when he opened the door was something he wished to ignore. “I’m back.”