Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

While he had not expected his first “lesson” to be a punch in the stomach, Jonathan learned  not to question things anymore. There he is, knee deep in a river with an Italian he just met,a glimmering spirit itching to punch them back, training to fight his now undead brother. Once again words prove to paint his life as bizarre.

A week later, he stands once again in the river, his breath and Zeppeli’s in harmony, arms extended. According to the Italian, he had been an exceptional student, but yet…

“Jojo, you need to keep your focus on your breathing through every motion,” Zeppeli said as his arm slid back to place, only red in the knuckles from the hit that left Jonathan with wet trousers.

“It’s not like a stand: it cannot me maintained on instinct alone. If you waver, even a little, so does your energy. Now, again.”

“Yes sir.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, sir, what brought you to the mask in the first place?” Jonathan had asked the night they had begun their training, soaked to the bone. Zeppeli smiled faintly at the question, but that smile was one with weight, with sorrow. Jonathan knew a smile like that all too well.

“Well, I was born into a family of scholars, though I was less content to the books, so to say,” He was laughing, but his eyes betrayed his voice.

“I joined a multitude of archaeological expeditions with my father’s university. Egypt, India, Africa, why, the world was my oyster…. But then we went to Mexico...”

His face fell, eyes trailing to their little campfire in the church’s ruins.

“We were exploring an Aztec ruin, the mask coming into our possession like any other artifact... Until we departed, that is…”

They were silent for a while, Jonathan touching at the meal Zeppeli had laid out fireside with bated breath.

“There had been 58 men aboard... It took only one of them the slaughter the rest... I tried to save a few, but they had already become thralls to the mask’s wearer: zombies... So, I jumped, the vampire following me until he was left as ashes in the sun…” Zeppeli took a deep breath before letting it loose, as if pushing back his tears with his breath, even as it shook. “That man was my father…”

Tears made their descents, but neither made attempts to stop them. Hushed and quiet, the two sat in sorrowful silence a moment longer, the only noise being the fire’s crackle.

“I searched for years... How to destroy the mask that destroyed my father…”

“It seems,” Jonathan finally said, “We’re more alike than I thought…”

William laughed again, wiping his eyes.

“Maybe, Jojo... Maybe…”

The silence persisted, the flames dancing ever still.

“Hey, master, what would you’ve done if I refused?”

William smiled through the embers.

“I knew you wouldn’t... Fate’s funny that way, JoJo. You’ll see.”

A week further, and the plans soon wove themselves together. While Robert was a bit apprehensive about the mysterious Italian gentleman he would gladly do anything he could to help Jonathan avenge his father, even as his debt had long been paid. He had men across England, he claimed, even farther should they need it. While skeptical about his connections, they were grateful nonetheless as a solid lead rose from a small town. Nestled in the valley of three mountains a day's ride south of London and resting atop a cliff was Windkinights Lot: a town built from the remains of a royal training ground. As student and master approached the single tunnel to the town, a loud thud and yelp from the coachman brought them to a stop. Jonathan was about to get out to check what it was, but Will stopped him, instead placing his hand to the carriage roof, hamon soon spreading through the wood. There were multiple thumps, like something was trying not to touch the wood my just jumping enough, before a yellow and black blur fell past the window with a familiar scream.

“Robert!? Wha-” Jonathan leaned out of the window, his head nearly colliding with the rising Speedwagon, all smiles.

“You really think I was just gonna let ya run off without me, mister Joestar?” Speedwagon laughed as he approached the doors, shaking off his scraped and seared hands. “I'm in too deep to just back out; just isn't my style.”

William smiled and shook us head as he returned his focus to a bottle of wine as Jonathan welcomed Speedwagon on their journey, the disgruntled coach driver mumbling complaints before pressing into the tunnel. Jonathan kept his eyes to the receding sky, soon turned to brickwork. In that moment, he thinks only of Erina, the last shining light of his life before Dio, and smiles.

Chapter Text

“Oi, why'd we stop?”

Jonathan was pulled from his daydreams, Speedwagon leaning a ways out the window.

“Oi, coach, we're on a tight schedule ‘ere!”

Silence. The tunnel filled with unease, the only sound being their own breathing...but soon came a drip, slow and constant.

“Rain? Wait, no, too slow to be rain… Coach! Coach!,” the quiet persisted, the drippings coming more and more frequent until the source fell past the window: blood. Robert had already exited, Jonathan sending The World forward after him at the sight of the blood, ready to grab him by the coat tails if need be.

“So they're already here…”

Jonathan could only look to Zeppeli for a moment before a scream pulled him back to Speedwagon, who scrambled on his backside with blood at his feet and a knife clattering down short after. The coachman had been made a pin cushion, his head entombed in the base of one of the horses’ heads, the other resting atop the carriage, also littered with knives. What was left of the carcasses shifted and moves, as if life had struggled to keep its hold upon them. The World pulled Robert back, hand over mouth, leaving Robert's screams muffled and frantic.

“Is it Dio? Where is-”

“Not yet, JoJo, stay back,” William warned, stepping out with his bottle and glass. The neck convulsed, blood spurting onto the cobbles of the road until another head emerged, grinning mad and hissing like a serpent in its hole. An arm emerged as well, a large knife in hand, spraying more blood and flesh as he cut his way out. How long had he been in there?

This was not the same string of madness as Dio, nor the same savagery: this was a monster with more blood on his hands than even him. He smelt of decay, Robert and Jonathan pulling back from the odor of death alone, but William remained.

“He is no Vampire, JoJo, but a thrall to him: kept only alive by the flesh of the living,” Willain said as he pressed a finger into the bottle of wine as one would poke through a leaf, the wine flowing into his glass “Zombies like him feel no pain, living only to kill and sustain themselves and their masters.”

William threw the bottle to Robert, who nearly dropped it at the shock of the sudden pass, the wine stopped as if the hole had never been.

“Now, JoJo, pay attention and try and place yourself in his mind…”

“In a monster like him? Sir, I don’t-”

“Shush. Now, If I were him,” William started, walking a bit away from the carriage. “I would seal the tunnel.”

Robert and Jonathan looked between each other before the snap of wood lead them to follow the older man’s lead. The wagon was sent careening toward them, but rather than sliding to a stop before the entrance, it slammed into the stones of the ceiling, the whole of it crumbling and beginning to fall. In a slight panic, William pushed the two forward, jumping after them to avoid falling rock.

“Okay, didn't think like that…” He admitted with a bit of a laugh to his voice, Robert looking half ready to faint while Jonathan looked with furrowed brows. William took the bottle once again from Robert.

“JoJo, get him to cover and watch closely.”

The World took Robert in his arms, the already frazzled thug looking with wide eyes as William advanced with his drink. The three became two behind the rubble, Jonathan peering over to watch as ordered. The zombie’s skin pulsed and cracked, steel glistening in the torchlight beneath his very flesh. With a raise of his arms, the knives emerged from their places in full, aimed to fan out across the whole of the tunnel.

“If I were him,” Jonathan thought as he watched as master and monster sized each other. “I would attack from range!”

“Robert, get down!”

Sure enough, with a flex, the knives shot outward, The World hovering over Jonathan and Speedwagon and punching away any knives coming their way as Zeppeli countered as well, wine splitting the air like saws and hitting the knives into the walls. William looked back, finding Speedwagon and Jonathan unharmed, before turning back and speaking again.

“Would you call a flea brave to latch upon a human? How would you even define true bravery?

As he began, the fiendish ghoul ripped a knife from his face, bringing it to descend upon the unmoving master.

“A flea is not brave at all, for they cannot master fear,” He quickly spins the bottle in his hand before plunging it to meet the knife, ripple and glass flying into the hand of the zombie. “This conquest of fear is bravery! This breathing is bravery! Sendo wave kick! ”

William plunged his heel into the eye of the zombie, ripple leaving half of their face a mass of melting, oozing flesh and blood.

“Now, JoJo, I do believe it's your turn,” William said casually, taking another sip of wine and walking toward the makeshift barricade.” Should be easy, so here, my wine. Think of this as your final exam. Finish him without spilling a drop and I shall continue. Even if you defeat him, I will abandon you should you fail.”

“Are you fucking mad, mate?!” Robert yelled from the floor, William giving him a harsh look as he stood up. “This ain't a fucking field trip or something, bastard, he could die!”

“The Northern wind created the Viking, so they say in Norway…”

“I don't give a damn about the Vikings! The vikings didn't have to fight fucking zombies!”

“Robert-”

“For all we know more of these bastards could be hiding around! You-you-you’re sending him to die, aren’t ya!?”
“ROBERT!”

Speedwagon halted his yelling as Jonathan looked down with harsh eyes, soon trailing them to Zeppeli.

“I trust him,” He softened his gaze, Zeppeli smiling as Jonathan raised the wine glass. “The northern wind made the vikings, right?”

He turned back, finding the zombie gone, the likely point of escape being a corridor to his right,  a sword-like lever from the ceiling pushed facing downward. The World brought himself out, the light glow of his body bringing a faint light to the corridor as they entered enemy territory, the cold of his northern wind brushing against his face.

Even with the light of his stand, the corridor was near black. The shadows on the walls all seeming to grin down on him and reach with spindly fingers. He feared no ghosts or shadows, for his own was his light and guardian. There was no sound but that of his own footsteps, his stand scanning the columns and halls of the winding rooms. Even as he stood besides columns, patches of darkness persisted: the perfect cranny for a hiding foe.

Almost an cue, the fiend reemerged, wielding a large, almost devilish device of blades, Jonathan barley ducking past it and The World snapping a blade of it off with a punch. Spinning around to counterattack, he was met with empty darkness once again, stand and user on edge.

“First rule,” He thought, straightening up and taking a step. “Put yourself in the enemy’s mind... I would stick close.”

The World drifted further back, keeping its eyes around the corners he could not.

“Rule number two,” He takes a few more steps, cautious in the unknown of the tunnel’s maze. “Make fear your own and keep your breathing brave…”

He focused on the rhythm, his eyes trailing to wine glass in his hands, the wine flowing oddly to one side... He could feel the rippled through his very fingers, the energy resonating with his very heart. He felt the tunnel around him: Robert and Speedwagon waiting in the wings, the rats of the walls, and the stolen faint pulse of the fiend he pursued.

“ There! ,” Jonathan turned, his stand plunging a fist into the stone wall and brining the zombie back with him. “Sendo Overdrive!”

“MUDA!”

The World threw the zombie forward with a punch to the chest, Jonathan’s own fist piercing the skull with a blast of hamon, the wine lowering to rest in the glass, untouched.

The Wind has found its Viking.

Chapter Text

He emerged to smiles, Robert releasing a long held breath, fingers red from nervous biting with William stood with crossed arms and a smile, reaching out to take the glass. With a triumphant smile, Jonathan instead took a long sip himself, draining the glass to about half before handing it off.

“Cheeky.”

After a little bit of walking, the three emerged from the tunnel, the sunlight a welcomed release from the tunnel’s shadow. The town, at a glance, seemed completely fine. People were working the fields, boats were coming and going: all normal bits of the day to day. Speedwagon hurried to walk besides William, their luggage in hand.

“Soooo... Mister Zeppeli,” Speedwagon started, clearly turning on the charms. “Do you think I could learn that ripple stuff? I mean, we’re all on this journey together and I really wanna h-”

“Can’t.”

“-elp. Wait, what? Whadda ya mean, ya can’t? Ya can’t or ya won't?” Robert was glaring daggers, but William kept walking. “Rrrh, damn it, just tell me ya bastard!”

“How close have you been watching JoJo, Speedwagon?” William asked as he turned his head to meet Speedwagon eye to eye. “Even now, he’s been keeping up the breathing rhythm I taught him, even in his sleep. Only one in a thousand carry that aptitude, heightened by the tragedy of his life, and it took me decades of training in Tibet to get where I am. So, if I may be so frank, you’re too soft.”

Speedwagon stopped dead, hand tight around the luggage only to throw it down and storm forward in a huff after the Italian.

“Too so-, you don’t know a thing about me!”

William raises a brow, stopping in the road and Speedwagon seemed to fume.

“Old man beat my own little bro till he died, watched him do it! Mum died of a fever not a bastard could place and then the old fuck has the gal to run off to become a fucking priest!”

Speedwagon was panting now, shaking both in rage and grief, William and Jonathan stopped in silence. “I’ve stolen, I’ve cheated, but Dio... Dio’s nothing short of the devil… I-I don’t wanna see anymore sufferin’...”

William sighed, his eyes tired and with a twinge of guilt to them as Robert glared.

“I suppose... If I stimulate the muscles in your diaphragm, you should be able to get at least a little…” William replied with a raised pinky. “But it will hurt at first…”

“I don't care, just do it.”

Jonathan turned around to see William and Robert much farther back, Speedwagon clutching his stomach on the ground and coughing. Quickly jogging back to them, he turned to Zeppeli.

“Wh- Sir, what happened?!”

“Well, I was trying to stimulate some ripple, but it appears my finger slipped…”

“You did it on purpose, bastard,” Speedwagon wheezed between coughs as his breath began to return to him.

“Do you want me to try, Rober-”

“Absolutely not.”

As the three stood in the road, Jonathan helping Robert up, a rustling bush gave way to a sprinting boy, who dove to the discarded luggage before making his way across the nearby pond, soon giving his rear a few taunting slaps.

“Damn! Cheeky like shit nicked our bag!” Robert choked, pointing across the way. The boy looked no older than twelve, clad in clothes much to big for his scrawny frame with a wide smile.

“Perhaps he can lead us to town…”

“Good idea, sir.”

“Wha- How are you two so calm about this? All our money was in there!” Speedwagon's yells lead to more coughs as William and Jonathan approached the pond, the thief scurrying up a stone wall with a grin. William placed a hand in the pond, ripples soon fanning outward and Zeppeli rising back to height with water flicked from his fingers. He pressed his shoe against the surface, soon skipping across it with sparks at his feet, keeping time with his hands. Then, with less grace, Jonathan made his own attempt, more of a slide than anything and much slower as the water rushed to meet his knees. In this moment, Jonathan snaps his memory to the books he read time and time again, though more specifically upon a certain insect: the water strider. He thought of the stillness of their ponds, each one moving like on ice, as an idea came to mind.

“The World.”

Zeppeli froze mid stride, the water still as a board below his frozen form, and Jonathan rising to stand atop it, still sliding. His stand placed their large hands to the small of his back, their helmet pressed against his shoulders as he began to push, the paused water breaking behind him at the force until he reached the opposing bank just before time resumes. The wake was...much larger than intended, the rising waves of his crossing knocking Zeppeli off balance once he touched the surface again and the large splashes drenching Speedwagon, his annoyed expression growing to acceptance while the small thief looked on in horror and awe.

“Wha-What the ‘ell was that?! Y-ya know what, never mind, ya still never gettin this back!” the child yelled, scrambling to climb faster while keeping the bag tight in his hand. William re-emerged from the water, taking his hat from the surface with a huff before going to Jonathan's side, giving him a short glare before sighing and looking up to the child as Jonathan gave the wall of stone a smack, sparks of ripple shooting out and up as William cranes his head.

“Good sound, good sound…. I'd say... B+. It'd be better, say, a meter or so the left,” William said with a nod before looking back. “Actually, a C for cheating with that stand of yours on the pond.”

Jonathan winced a little, smiling a bit from embarrassment, before shifting his arms to out a bit. As Robert emerged from the water with the grace of a soaked cat, the ripple reached the scampering thief, their hands sent back from the wall with a jolt and sending them downward. Screaming, they first landed in The World’s arms, lowered slowly into Jonathan’s own. The bag came crashing down short after, William hooking the handle with his umbrella nonchalantly. The child looked around in a panic, soon bringing his eyes to Jonathan's with a quivering lip.

“W-who are you?!”

Had Jonathan used too much hamon? Did he hit his head on the way down? Lying? Jonathan couldn't quite get a read on this kid, an eyebrow raised in minor confusion as William glanced around.

“He must have been hypnotized somehow. Just look where he's brought us….”

Jonathan scanned around, the sun at its descent, gravestones casting bleak shadows, and the dirt mounds that sat beneath them stirred at the presence of who else…

“Dio.”

Chapter Text

Just seeing the man alive brought Speedwagon's blood to a boil, the two brothers staring each other down with a silent fury to them. Robert clenched his teeth, gripping the scar around his neck as his anger rose higher and higher. He doesn't have the right to be alive, much less in the presence of those he's hurt so much. As a human, he cannot forgive him, and as a monster, Dio cannot be forgiven.

The boy was panicking more and more as the ground split further, flesh long buried and bones long broken snapping and rising from eternal slumber. In this madness, Jonathan remained calm.

“What's your name?” He asked with a faint smile, trying to ground the boy with a familial tone.

“P-Poco, s-sir.”

Jonathan kept up his smile as he passed Poco to The World, the stand moving the boy to rest before his pack.

“This is probably scary for you, so just hold on tight, okay?

Poco held fast, maybe even debated attempting to climb into the pack itself, as the hoard formed in full.

“So this is Dio,” Zeppeli said as he looked up to the precarious rocks Dio could call a throne. “Cunning, to drag us to a graveyard in the setting sun. Cunning or not, you must be destroyed! JoJo, let's go!”

“Yes sir.”

They dropped into stance, even Speedwagon prepared to fight with a sledgehammer in his hands. In moments, the horde was upon them in a rush. Zeppeli, with calm grace, went through groups of them with swift jabs and chops, leaving them to fall into one another like dominoes of flesh. Robert brought the hammer down with force enough to spark against the stones beneath, blood and rotted brain matter splattering the bludgeon and its wielder. Then there was Jonathan, fists flying into the waves as others around him were torn limb from limb in golden hands before a curled foot would bash in the head, it's face filled with both anger and absolute joy... Frankley, it was terrifying to think of ever being on the receiving end. They cut through the hoard about as fast as they could animate themselves, the air swirling with the ash of the recently re-deceased. Zeppeli was the first to advance, sparking with each step.

“Dio Brando,” He began as he began to push up to the base of his pillar. “I do not know you personally, but I say this to the mask you donned all those nights ago: at last we meet again!”

Dio only smirked, a fang poking past his lip in a way that would probably have been laughable on anyone else.

“You are but an insect,” he hissed down as William glared. “Fly home and live in your gutter. Perhaps JoJo can join you.”

“Come down and face us, vampire!,” Will snapped, Dio smiling as the Italian fumed.

“ Come down? To face you? Bah, don't falter yourself, worm,” he retorted, almost like a chuckle. “You look upon the jewel of all of God's creatures! His successor! Your emperor !”

The air around him alone seemed to suffocate, radiating malice and evil as he rose his arms like a preacher in his speech, flickers of a scar poking from beneath his shirt. He lowered his arms to meet the edges of the shirt, pulling it up to reveal the scar in full. While lights streaks of burns still rested upon his abbs, a large, dark scar rose over them: the wound from the lance impaling him nearly a fortnight past.

“How many? How many lives did you take to heal those wounds!?”

Dio merely smiled once again, pointing to his lips as they parted.

“How many slices of bread have you eaten?”

Jonathan knew this tactic of his all too well, not even a bit off from their days as children. Trying to get a rise out of William, make him advance in anger over reason, was a tactic Jonathan too had succumbed to once or twice, and now is not a scuffle of children. Dio would not let him advance without a plan of his own, that's just how Dio's mind worked.

“Zeppeli,” Jonathan yelled as he started to make his own ascent. Will rose a hand behind him, flashing a glare yet a smirk.

“Leave it to me,” he said with a bite to his voice as he leapt upward, rising above even Dio, before lunging back downward with a jab. Dio leaned backwards, blocking the jab with his open palm as ripple soon flared through flesh and Zeppeli curled his fingers to a fist...And yet, Dio smiled.

“So this is the energy that destroyed Jack…” he cooed mockingly with a tilt of his head. He curled his fingers around Zeppeli’s hand, nails piercing his hand before his eyes flared wide.

“Weakling!”

Like metal left in snow, Dio's arm began to glisten and ice over before giving Will’s arm a twist,the cold cutting through flesh and leaving his arm near black with its bite. Blood fell in mass, shattering like icicles against the ground.

“You may have mastery of the lungs,” Dio hissed “But I have mastery of flesh itself! I'll shatter you like a vase, fool!”

Dio brought his free arm to strike for William’s face, but in but an instant was met with Jonathan’s own hand on his fist, a force unseen taking his other wrist and snapping bone till he released.

“Zeppeli, now!”

Master and student sparked against Dio’s fist, the same wave of ice that had consumed the other arm taking his other, the bitter cold ripping at their skin as Zeppeli made a move to kick as well. Dio stood unflinching, blocking the baron with only two fingers before launching the two in different directions, leaving Will to tumble into Speedwagon and Poco while Jonathan was rolled across the loose dirt in a cloud of dust.

“Truly JoJo, I was surprised at first,” Dio hissed as the party recollected itself, Speedwagon assessing Zeppeli’s arm and Jonathan rising to his feet once more. “Beating Jack was quite the feat, but yet here you are. If you intent to simply huff at me, then blow me a fanfare fit for kings!”

As he spoke, the ground itself seemed to quiver to his words, bedrock splitting with immense cracks.

“Bruford! Tarkus! Lost knights of Mary Stuart! Tear flesh from bone in your undying rage, this is my command! ”

Chapter Text

From the snapping bedrock rose two figures, one much more immense than the other, seeming to block the moon with his girth alone. The other moved like the wind, long hair trailing behind him in a wave with stray locks intertwining with the waving mass: these were the dread knights Tarkus and Bruford, and their target was JoJo.

“He'll never make it two on one,” Zeppeli winced as Robert examined the flash frozen flesh that was his arm. “Damn it. If only I could get blood flowing, then I could ease the wound and-”

“Then let's have that ice off then.”

William looked to Speedwagon, his expression of fear now a smile of both nerves and confidence. “You ain't the only one who's been round the world, ya know. I've been through deserts, jungles, tundra, all learning from the people I meet.”

Speedwagon grabbed Williams arm and pressed it against his stomach, the ice hissing against his natural warmth and pricking against his abs.

“No one 'as to do it alone!”

William’s shock was quick to fade as his arm returned to him, smiling faintly at the younger man.

“I took you for a coward before, Speedwagon... I'm sorry. Th-”

“Thank me if we survive, cause those big brutes ‘re bout to give JoJo hell if you don't get out there!”

Bruford was the first to reach Jonathan, hair flaring outward as he came to a stop and Jonathan lunged to attack in defense, finding his fist entangled in the curls, strands sticking into his flesh like fishing line, blood dripping as more and more of Bruford’s hair advanced. Even with his breathing steady, the ripple faltered wherever the hair met his flesh, as if the blood itself was being drained or blocked. The World rose from his back, ripping at the hair as Tarkus made his approach, massive sword in hand, with Dio's laughter ringing over the graveyard.

“I knew you were quiet the historian, JoJo, so I found it fitting,” he hissed between laughs. “History itself serves me! They are my demons of vengeance: my revenants!”

Bruford seemed taken aback as his hair was torn from flesh, what remained around Jonathan’s hand burning away in the ripple.

“Curious,” Bruford hissed as his hair retreated, his fangs flashed in the moonlight.

“He'll be a fine warm-up after 300 year, eh Bruford?” Tarkus laughed as the last of the hairs fluttered down. Then came a cracking, then a bout of manic cackles as a new wave of zombies rushed forward. As easy as swatting a fly, Tarkus slapped the flat of his sword against a large mass of them, the interlopers dispersing from their splattered comrades, any who still advanced being eviscerated by Bruford’s hair as they attempted to pass.

“Lord Dio, allow me to face this man. He…” Bruford cast his gaze toward Jonathan, but his eyes lingered behind him, eyes locking with The World. ” Intrigues me.”

Dio raised a brow at Bruford’s questioning, but waved a hand in dismissal.

“Do as you wish, Bruford.”

The knight gave a nod to his master, Tarkus digging his sword in the ground and sitting with a thunderous clatter to his armor at the reply, before he made a leaping approach to Jonathan, hands behind his back.

“Mister Joestar!” Speedwagon yelled, pulling Jonathan’s focus toward him and seeing Bruford’s sword sail toward him, wrapped in hair. The World caught the blade between his hands, Bruford’s eyes going wider still. Could he see him? Jonathan remembers the journals, the logging of how only other stand users could see the hovering figures. The two backed from one another, the sword clattering to the ground between them, as Bruford watched the movements of The World.

“It’s range,” Bruford muttered. “It’s range is next to nothing, isn’t it?”

Jonathan did not reply, wrapped in thought. The stand must have been his hair, it must be, lest it be another trick from Dio’s reanimation. He looks across the graveyard and wonders how many like him, no, like them have been buried here. Without warning, Bruford’s hair dug downward, the ground cracking and slipping away into the waters below, Jonathan and Bruford going with it as a separate mass of hair recollected the blade and quickly sheathing it before they met the water.

“Jonathan,” William yelled as he and Robert rose to their feet. “He doesn’t stand a chance underwater, much less against Bruford!”

“W-We have to save him!” Robert yelled through clattering teeth, taking the sledgehammer from the ground.

“You will go no further.”

The two lifted their gaze as Tarkus’ massive blade cut between them and the way to Jonathan, Dio laughing even harder from his perch, wiping an eye before he leapt to another spire.

“I see I have no need to stay around here much longer,” He said between jumps. “First, I will take this town, then England, then the world!

The two fighters drifted in a silent stalemate, Bruford giving a sly smile as Jonathan struggled.

“This is a dual of heroes, boy,” Bruford hissed through the water, “Your breathing shall be your handicap, and I shall keep my sword away. Now, try something before you down.”

Jonathan struggled in the water, The World sliding to his side. In stopped time, he would still drown, but it would give him at least a few moments to think without the threat of Bruford. This was a coal mining town, that much he knew, so there must be pockets, pockets of air between the rocks. The World took him by the waist, gliding to the bottom as time ticked onward once again, Bruford’s sight soon snapping down to them. Stand and User pried a rock from the river’s bottom, a large bubble rising to Jonathan’s lips; with a single breath, his ripple begins again, not his strongest, but it would be enough.

“Turquoise Overdrive!”

Chapter Text

Bruford burst from the water, clattering to the shore with teeth bared as his scabbard followed suit, hair rising in agitation as Jonathan emerged. He clutched his face, the rise giving way to swaying, like the annoyed swish of a cat's tail.

“Lord Dio, I am grateful to you for allowing me to face this man,” Bruford hissed as he moved his hands from his face and brought his eyes to Jonathan and The World.

“No more handicaps! This is mind versus mind! Skill versus skill! Ability versus ability!”

“He remembers his pride, even after being reanimated?” Jonathan thought as he emerged fully. “The zombie in the tunnel was a man of brutality, but them, they remember two halves chivalry and hatred!”

“This is a fight of heroes!” Bruford cries as the hair seemed to stream to the heavens, soon rushing around Jonathan with too much mass for even The World to block in its entirety, their master bound and the stand too soon taking lacerations from the rapid strands. He could feel the hair bind him tighter, soon even raising him off the ground and into a tree as his body and spirit began to falter. It wound further around the trunk, snapping limbs from the old tree like a snake would crush its prey, a whip of hair taking up the sword and placing it in its master's hand.

“I'll drain your blood here and now, boy ,” he growled as he rose the sword.

“JOJO!”

“MISTER JOESTAR!”

“ THE WORLD !”

Time stopped just as the sword met his neck, the tip nearly piercing flesh as his stand began ripping, some masses coming with the scalp as he freed more and more of Jonathan. Before time could resume, he managed to wriggle to the side, raising a foot to meet the bottom of the blade and letting it charge in the frozen time. When rime returned, the energy shot through the blade like a bullet, Bruford's arm boiling at the touch all the ways to the shoulder before the blade fell. Ripping through his bonds, hamon in his veins again, Jonathan took his stance. His heart burns more intense than any fire, beating with the drums of war and with the strength of a hundred men.

“Sunlight Yellow Overdrive!”

“MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA! ”

With a final punch in tandem, Bruford's chest plate shattered, the rest of his armor falling as he rolled along the grass and Jonathan sighed.

“I am…. Bruford the black knight…. Do you think this mere pain will stop me!?”

His hair snaked to the remains of his arm, taking up his sword and whipping it around again.

“He's-he's still attacking! Mister Joestar, move!”

Speedwagon cried out, barely avoiding a swipe from Tarkus.

“JONATHAN!”

Bruford’s blade cut through air, but nothing else, stopping at his neck once again, lowering then to his shoulder as Bruford’s body hissed from the lingering hamon.

“Pain?” Jonathan asked as he watched Bruford’s expression shift from malice to peace. “You can feel pain?”

Bruford was falling away, more of melting than the ashy decay of the other undead, flowers blooming at his feet as he fell from now vacant boots.

“That’s why I stopped fighting, and why you stopped your sword,” Jonathan said as he knelt before the broken knight. “Your soul couldn’t do it anymore.”

“How? How can you be so sure?” Bruford gasped between burst of pain, fangs dropping to the grass in ashes.

“I read a long time ago that a Stand needs both body and soul to exist. Without a soul, a Stand cannot exist: same if it has no body to bind to…”

Bruford took another sharp breath as his other leg fell into the soil, Jonathan reaching to ease him to the ground at least.

“Do not pity me, friend. This pain is the proof of life... If I can feel pain, I may feel joy as well…” He whispered through the pain and the low rumble of the wind. “I feel strangely at peace... To meet someone so kind... I-I am ready to meet my queen…”  Bruford turned his head to face Jonathan, a faint smile to his lip. “Tell me, what is your name?”

“Jonathan Joestar.”

“Jonathan Joestar, I gift to you my sword and what rests upon its hilt... Luck,” He said as his hair flowed feebly to the blade, resting it softly among the flowers. “And, your future…”

He slid a finger along the blade before returning to the hilt, placing a single ‘P’ before intricate Luck. He held out the sword, Jonathan taking it in hand as Bruford faded away, becoming one with the wind that brushed against the small white flowers around his knees. His pride and chivalrous heart had been turned to madness, Jonathan’s own furious heart now weighed with grief. He cried for Bruford like a brother as he swore vengeance against his own.

Dio could not be forgiven.

Chapter Text

“Mister Joestar, behind you!”

Jonathan lifted his head from the floral grave, the other knight stomping to meet him. Had he a soul as well? Would he mourn? Jonathan watched as he passed him, looking down to the armor with an unreadable air to him. He didn’t pause for a moment before lifting what was left of the armor from the ground with his blade and taking it up in his hands.

“Bruford…” He murmured, squinting to the fragments.

“You coward, ” roared the final knight as he slammed the armor against his knee, whatever remained splitting and flying through the air.

“A disgrace to the 77 rings!”

He was kicking the prices like a storming toddler, wayward shards whizzing toward Zeppeli, who jumped and seemed to lay in the air as he fell again, getting a few minor cuts and scraped from the metals and a few bumps in the landing.

“Looks like freeing him is gonna take more than a few broken bones…” he said as he sat up, almost a laugh.

“I admired Bruford’s tricks, but that's all he was good for! I'm a butcher and the world is my slaughter house!”

He hadn't even remembered Poco was there until he started screaming again, clutching Robert and practically climbing the man to get away. Tarkus smirked at the sight, raising his sword high with a devilish tilt to his head.

“SQUEAL FOR ME! URUUUUH! ”

Bringing the claymore down, the earth itself gave to his blows as a long crack formed from the tip to the edge of the cliff face, carving them a platform that began to shift and fall. The slab only fell for a few feet before slamming against a second mass of stone, cracking and crumbling against it as they ran to the sturdier ledge. The last of it fell away as Robert was making his jump, screaming all the while with his fingers only brushing the stones. He screamed even louder, eyes glued shut, even as The World placed him gently on the stones.

“Robert….”

Still screaming.

“Robert.”

Still screaming.

“SPEEDWAGON,” Jonathan finally barked, the smaller man jumping a little and finally opening his eyes. He tried to nervously laugh it off, his eye catching what would have been his long tumble below him before quickly stopping.

“Any farther and we would have probably died…” William said, calm as ever. “Now where is-”

“Gyah, AAAUAGH”

They looked up the cliff, Jonathan quickly covering Poco’s eyes, as Tarkus hoisted three men from the road, squirming and very much human in his hands, before he twisted his hands like merely wringing out a towel, their blood flowing into his mouth as their bones shattered in his hands. His ire soon turned to them as the last drops fell, the corpses discarded and the behemoth knight soon poised to descend after them. As they shifted, there was a crunch: not of stone or bones, but of leaves. Jonathan and William locked eyes before nodding and getting to work. Their ripple seemed to sew the leaves together faster than any seamstress, coming together with ease into the shape of a similar leaf yet big enough to nearly cover the whole of their perch. The World pulled Speedwagon into his arms, his own arms entangled with Poco’s as the boy panicked. As student and master ran off the cliff face, Poco's panic became wonder while Speedwagon's panic remained.

“Are you angels?” Poco asked after sticking his tongue out to Tarkus in triumph. Jonathan smiled faintly, but the World beamed proud with the boy under him, shifting Robert in his arms to be able to ruffle Poco’s hair with a free hand.

“I- I knew it,” he whispered as the faint touch left his scalp.

Robert calmed more and more as Tarkus grew more distant, his nervous peeps becoming laughter as the wind blew his hair every which way. If it hadn't been for the scenery, he could have felt safe, joyous even, as they sailed through the air... William was in no such mood.

“Should you train here, you will change your fate. You could do so many things, William. Start a family, be happy…”

“I cannot.”

“Well why not? I've seen a million fates of those who said they cannot be content.”

“Until the mask is destroyed, I can never know peace.”

The old monk pauses.

“If you continue, your fate will be death... Do you still wish to stay?”

“Yes.”

William looks to Jonathan, so much like himself, then to the distance. Sprawling ruins flowed under them, a sort of stillness in their decay making this tomb of man’s ambition fill with a suffocating dread. The stillness was disturbed by a rhythm implacable, like a soft chime of mighty brass bells...

“Um, sirs, that noise….that wouldn't be….”

“It's Tarkus!” Poco shrieked, the shadow of the goliath finally coming over the glider. With a roar, he swiped a hand through the mass of leaves before continuing to fall

“He’s lost all sense jumping at us from this height!” Cried Speedwagon, clutching Poco even tighter in his arms as the glider grew unstable.

“Jojo, to that building there, quickly.”

“Yes sir.”

As the two shakily drifted the glider toward a more stable looking section of ruins, a loud slam brought Speedwagon’s eyes downward, a plume of dust rising from a section of wall a ways below where they slowly fell to, The World dropping the two rather unceremoniously onto the stones. Robert was the first to approach the ledge, William following soon after as Jonathan checked on Poco. From the smoking wall came Tarkus, shaking and bloody as his helmet fell off to meet the ravine’s bottom.

“His bones should have shattered from such a height. With this sort of determination, we may have to end him here,” William said as Tarkus tried to claw out and up. “He can't regenerate like Dio can, so at least we have some advantage now. JoJo, get the boy somewhere safe.”

Jonathan gave a quick nod as he looked around, his eyes trailing to a single door on the wall. Taking the handle, Poco pulled at his pants.

“Be careful, sir. This place is chock full of traps.”

“Have you been here before then?”

“Um….not exactly….” Poco lowered his eyes a bit as he talked before snapping his attention back up. “But everyone knows this place is full of them!”

He took Poco’s word, releasing the handle himself and letting The World pull instead. Nothing. Jonathan stepped forward into the room, scanning the walls and ceiling. It looked to be empty save a chain hanging across the room and a door…

“Sir, above you!”

Poco’s scream came a moment too late, the door slamming closed and a second chain linked now around Jonathan's neck. As he struggled in his bind, a laugh pierced the silence of the chamber, flowed by the click of a lock.

“A chain match to the death...hehe, this'll be a fine way to deal with you after 300 years of slackin’...”

Chapter Text

“Can’t you get it open?” Robert yelled as William pulled back his hand, knuckles bloody from pounding.

“Ripple isn’t meant for destruction and this door is much too thick... Damn it... Try the holes over there.”

Robert ran along the wall, looking into each of the small ports on the wall. They were about three bricks high and three wide in the middle, but no way large enough for either himself or William.

“It’s no good, sir, not unless you’re a contortionist too.” Robert called from the wall. “I left the hammer when we jumped too, so I can’t even bust in. I’d pick the lock but there ain’t a lock to pick!”

“Wait, Speedwagon, look in there, toward the right. What is that?”

Robert joined William back at the door, peering in to see the sprawling scene.

“The key to your collar is with me and mine with yours. The only escape is to kill!”

Tarkus pulled the chain down hard and sudden, Jonathan gagging as the collar pulled him up the ceiling. His breathing was faint and constricted, but enough to try a single overdrive. The ripple ascended the chain but was spread too thin across the ceiling, leaving Tarkus with nothing but his bloodlust. With his breathing so light, the pain of the likely broken shoulder was excruciating, worsened with each slam from Tarkus.

“Jojo’s lookin pretty bad in there, we’ve gotta do something!” Robert yelled as he watched Tarkus yank and pull like Jonathan was nothing more but a dog on a leash. “W-Wait! There’s a lever! I think you can open the doors with the lever!”

“I’ll go down and use Tarkus’ route, you keep an eye on Jonathan and Poco,” ordered William as he climbed to the platform’s edge, Robert following after.

“Who knows how long that’ll take!”
“Hopefully long enough to save jojo, now- Robert, the boy!”

Poco didn’t even look back as Robert and William rushed to the wall again, Robert trying in vain to stick his arm in to grab him but coming to short.

“Poco, get back here, you’ll die!” William yelled over Robert’s shoulder as he tried to reach farther in. Poco did not stop, the two hearing a faint yelp from inside.

A thump pulled both Tarkus and Jonathan’s eyes to the wall, Poco scrambling to his feet with minimal success. He was shaking like mad, stumbling about on the floor as Tarkus bore his teeth. With a roar, Tarkus rose to kick Poco, the boy only able to scream and put up his hands in defense. Jonathan pulled down hard as he could, Tarkus being shifted off balance but only enough to lessen the blow but a bit. Poco flew a good way across the room, but yet he smiled.

“I’m not afraid, sister,” He whispers. “Of pain... Of zombies…” His shaking hand rose to the lever, the other pulling him closer until he was practically laying atop the shaft, the mechanisms finally moving against his weight.

“I did it...sister…”

Then, with no ceremony, he fell over with lidded eyes: alive, but very worn. The door burst open after a moment, Robert and William rushing in with William approaching Tarkus and Robert assessing Poco’s condition... But then William stopped.

“I will say this one final time, Zeppeli, that if you continue, you will be marked for death. Should you quit now, you will live.”

“I refuse to leave the mask, no matter my own fate. If I know when... If I know I at least make a difference... Then I can be satisfied. I need to know that I at least lived, truly lived, before I die.”

The old master pauses, the only sound the whip of the snow on the breeze. He extends his hand to him.

“Then I shall tell you.”

“In a secret room that smells of death, opened by the lamb to release the lion,” He recites under his breath as the scene rolls in his mind

“You will be the flame in that lion's eyes, but only after…”

He watches as Tarkus makes a move to him, dragging JoJo back along the chain.

“Only after a painful death,” William rose to his stance, jumping upward into a spin.

“You lot are like flies,” Tarkus sneers over the rattles of chain. “And like flies, I'll crush you!”

Tarkus, with his hulking frame, managed to leap above William, the chains and collar leaving Jonathan to border unconsciousness as he watched the iron serpent wind around his master.

“Better than crush ya, I'm gonna tear you apart!”

“Zeppeli!”

There was an echo of a snap, the final drum in an orchestra of gore as Zeppeli was ripped in two between the chains, student and master falling in unison to the stone floor. While it was faint, there was still breath I their lungs, even as one crawled as but a torso with teary eyes.

“JoJo... I give my last to you,” he wheezed as he took Jonathan's hand in his own, the man's pulse faint with shallow breaths in his chest.

Chapter Text

The first thing he felt after losing consciousness was a deep pain, bones ripping through god knows what to get into position once again as the rest of his muscles seemed to rip from them all at once. He felt the strain of fabric against his chest, the first sound he could hear being his shirt ripping away at whatever was compelling his body ripped through him. He felt a hand in his own, its pulse slowing with every second. He didn't open his eyes, yet saw everything in outline; the faint glow of a disembodied pair of legs, the unnatural flicker of Tarkus’ malice, the panic and sorrow of Speedwagon and Poco, the hand in his own dimming more and more, and a familiar face in full shine: The World, brighter than ever but with a heavy look in his eyes.

“You have to wake up,” those eyes told him. “ We have to wake up.”

So he did.

“This, this can't be real,” Robert whimpered as he watched from the doorway, Poco against his chest. “This...this has to be a dream...a cruel joke...this can’t,”

He saw the youth of Zeppeli's face fade away, browns going gray and his eyes going heavy and limp. Tarkus bore his teeth in annoyance to the fallen, raising his heel.

“Stubborn insects, Di-”

He choked, the collar around his neck pulling him upward as he kicked and clawed in a rage. Robert's eyes darted over to see Jonathan not only alive, but holding the chain down in his fist with a sort of fire in his eyes.

“Grrgh, How? I snapped it, I snapped your neck!” Tarkus croaked from the ceiling before Jonathan slammed him against it with a hard tug. Speedwagon watched as the collar snapped around Jonathan's own neck like it had been a twig, the indents of fingers unseen in the steel as Jonathan let Tarkus hang for a moment before dropping the chain, the spool of it rising through the ceiling as Tarkus feel like a redwood.

“I'm going to make you pay, Tarkus,” Jonathan said as he walked forward, his hand lowering slowly. “You have no soul to save... You aren't even worth his hamon.”

Tarkus regained his bearings as the chain fell, soon approaching himself with the iron chain in his hand. He gave a war cry as he swung it forward, finding it snap mid swing against The World. As the hand reached Jonathan, it was stopped by the same force, snarling with its master’s rage.

Jonathan watched every move of his stand, the disconnect between the feeling and seeing leaving him numb. He didn't flinch, not even for a split second, as The World’s hand slid through skin, muscle and bone. The halves of the arm flopped separate like a woman’s fan at the elbow, veins and tendons that struggled to hold them together splitting in a shower.

Jonathan's face was blank, his rage flowing outward like a fire from his soul, enwrapping The World in its furious glow.

“Not a bone will remain,” he says, his voice echoed through the lips of his stand for his ears alone as the stand took up a half of arm to pull him close. He wants to watch Tarkus die, something he could never have believed himself capable of thinking, but it was a need nonetheless. The World moves behind him, as he's always done, but Jonathan doesn't move to strike him himself. He lets his stand work with its anger and euphoric grin, no longer afraid of the power behind each swing.

“We aren't Tarkus,” he thinks as he watches a fist emerge from Tarkus’s abdomen.

“We aren't Dio,” another hand emerges from the hole, ripping open a cavity in his gut and letting stolen bodies and blood pool at his feet as he parted like curtains.

“We are the hope for the future!”

“ MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA,”

He punches with speed to leave flesh like confetti, but they keep going. Bones, nerves, even armor give under their fists, the head the only thing spared from the assault.

“ MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA!”

Soon, only the head is left, Jonathan taking the doobie's red hair into his fist and slamming the head against the floor... There is a sizzle, then nothing but the soft drip of tears as Jonathan dropped besides his master’s chest. He didn't know when he stopped time, but it resumed with a gasp of air and a gush of blood.

9 seconds.

He took the dying William in his arms, crying soft with the rise and fall of his chest.

“I, I'm sorry... If only I could have stopped him sooner... I,”

“JoJo…” his voice was faint, but still filled with the weight it always carried. “This is not a time for tears... I had long accepted this fate... You still have...so much to do…”

“Mr. Zeppeli…”

“I gave my family in pursuit of that mask, JoJo,” he whispered as blood trickled from his lips. “To think, I found another one in you…”

Jonathan would have buried his face in his chest, would have sobbed against his heartbeat until he had no tears left to shed, but he simply takes his hand to his cheek.

“Go, my friend... Destroy the mask... I will be with you…”

The hand he holds goes limp, the last of the energy fading against him. Then, in that chamber of death, they mourned him. They plucked him from steel and stone and walked him to the graves of heroes, a grave he deserves.

They make note to find his family beyond the sea, Robert taking his hat in his hands. If Jonathan had taken his spirit, Robert carried the body’s weight, resting atop his head in bold checkers...

Chapter Text

Jonathan walked soberly, but with long strides as always. It was all in his face, his eyes too sharp for a boy so soft in the heart. Speedwagon could even see it on Poco, the boy clinging to his leg with a heavy head. Dio’s influence was unseen in the town despite his declaration, but the three were still on edge. There were no fires or chaotic fleeing mobs, but people going through the night as normal.

“Oh, Mr. Adams!” Poco yelled as he noticed a man walking toward the town and drifted from Robert’s side to meet him.

“Poco? Why, what on earth are you doing out here so late?” He asked, bending forward and brushing a bit of dried blood from the boy’s cheek. “Good god, what happened to you?”

“No time! How the city!? My sister!?”

“P-Poco, slow down!” Adams said as he but his hands on Poco’s shoulders. “The town’s fine, boy! Your sister's so mad that she said she'd lock you in the barn for runnin off so late!”

Poco gave a yelp as Adams made little bull horns with his fingers, as if to accent the anger of this sister of his. They went on their way, Poco in no hurry to face the wrath of his sister and continuing to linger besides Robert. As they walked, there was a snap: not of twigs or leaves, but of bone. Without turning to meet it, The World sprung from Jonathan’s back and took the approaching tongue in his hands, ripping the ghoul toward itself before delivering a swift downward elbow onto the skull.

“So,” Jonathan sighed as Poco and Robert looked back in time to see the zombie fall in a heap. “The city is already lost…”

The voice came a ways back up the road, a tall figure with snow white hair emerging from the distance. Robert took Poco close, Jonathan moving between them and the approaching man.

“My name is Dire,” the figure declared as he approached, soon simply leaning back and drifting forward with about the same speed. Jonathan raises a brow as the leisurely paced “kick” as it nears him, holding up his hands in defense. As the soles of the man’s shoes met his palms, and soon his wrists, Dire spread his legs wide quickly and brought his torso and arms forward.

“Special Technique: Thunder Cr-”

Before he could finish, The World had pulled itself forward, his helmet meeting Dire’s face with an odd alignment with his hairline, Jonathan dropping the man straight onto his.unmentionables. Before he could strike again, Dire put a hand up as the other was firm to the front of his pants.

“Wait,” He said with surprising composure for one nursing his crotch and trying to stand up with dignity. “I am human. I apologize for the...sudden introduction.”

He pulled a letter from his pocket as he stood, his legs clearly still sore from the spread and fall, and held it up.

“I wished to test your training from Mr. Zeppeli, but he failed to mention a stand it seems.”

The World perked up at the mention of stands, Jonathan lowering himself to ease as well.

“He had asked us for his aide,” Dire said as he flicked them the letter as proof. “He informed us the mask was here in England, along with the one who holds it.”

As if on cue, the others of “us” emerged from down the road as well. One was a slim built gentleman with long black hair while the other was an older man with the only hair to his name cut short along his jawline.

“This is our master, Tonpeti,” Dire says as the others approach. “I am a disciple of his, Dire.”

“As am I,” replied the man with the black hair. “Straights.”

Jonathan didn't quite know what to make of the trio, but Robert was clearly still on edge, Poco as well.

“It is nice to meet you,” Tonpeti said with a voice like water in a cave forgotten, he looked across the group, raising a hairless brow

“Where is Zeppeli?”

Jonathan looked to Robert with sad eyes at the question, the other taking William's hat from his head and holding it over his heart.

“I'm afraid... I'm afraid he's dead, sirs…” Robert said after a painful silence. “Killed by a minion of Dio... The bastard…”

Dire and Straights looked between themselves, but Tonpeti simply closed his eyes and sighed.

“Do not burden yourself with grief,” Tonpeti said, all in company looking now to him. “Had we arrived sooner, his fate would have been the same... He knew this well.”

As the elder spoke, Jonathan felt another presence rising, his eyes darting around until they landed onto Tonpeti, his back the source of winding lavender vines, entangling him like the trunk of an old oak.

“It was as I predicted years ago. There could be nothing done.”

Jonathan sighed, trying to push back the hanging sorrow and regain composure.

“Well... I'm not sure if he mentioned me by name, but I'm Jonathan Joestar,” he extended a hand to Tonpeti, which he did not take. Rather than take the hand, he clasped his own and bowed. Jonathan recognized the motion from his books and gave himself a mental kick in the back of the head for not realizing it in the first few awkward seconds. As they got at ease, Tonpeti’s gaze climbed to the manor on the hill.

“I can feel his evil from even here... This Dio very heart beats malice through his blood…”

He began walking down the road, his students joining him. “He must be routed tonight or he may shadow the world with his evil.”

“We should also assess the status of the village,” Dire pointed out.

“There may be survivors.” Chimed in Straights.

“Yes. There may be hope for England if we can keep the horde from them.” Dire replied... Now Jonathan felt truly out of place…

“Well,” Poco chimed in softly. “If the town had to hold up, the inn’s probably the easiest to hold...maybe…”

His voice grew small as the men all turned their attention to him, Jonathan easing him with the first smile in the night.

“That's a wonderful idea, Poco.”

The boy smiled faintly, those in company softening their glances as well before making way to the inn. Sure enough, most of the village had retreated there, Poco having to yell a fair deal just for them to allow him in, the band of fighters standing at the inn’s front. After a while and fain yells from within, they could hear Poco shouting before he burst out of the inn.

“My sister,” he cried, “T-They took my sister!”

Chapter Text

The journey to the manor was quick, the combined force of Jonathan, Dire and Straights being more than enough to make it through whatever undead came near, Speedwagon and Tonpeti keeping close to Poco should anything get too close, (P)Luck at Roberts side and a hammer from the village in hand. Jonathan lead them forward as they kicked the doors open, moving on instinct.

Lesson one: place yourselves in the enemy's shoes.

Dio would be by some sort of exit, but also probably lavishing himself if Jonathan was any judge of character. He had spotted a balcony as they approached, so he would likely be in the room attached. Dropping onto it would make it easy for Dio to simply break it off if his strength is as great as it seemed. They had to put him on the defense. They had to enter through the front.

As they navigated the twisting halls, they found themselves a floor above the balcony path, standing on a sort of smithing platform based on the anvil. Jonathan looked at the slab of iron for a moment, then to the shingles of the section below, a sunroof revealing hints of movement: one zombie at least. The World plucked the Anvil from its place before Jonathan began to skid down the siding to the lower level, Tonpeti and company joining him followed by the more cautious Robert and Poco. As he looked back to be sure they were not being pursued, he saw Tonpeti eye The World with a raised brow while the other was furrowed in thought. Jonathan left him too it, focusing instead on the zombie below. It was much like Tarkus in size, but was clearly only the corpse of a laborer distorted to Dio's needs. Its head was concealed with a burlap sack, a hat resting atop it. From past them, Jonathan could make out a smaller figure, cowering under the imposing frame of the zombie; it must have been Poco's sister.

The World lightly tossed the anvil in the air before slapping it hard through the hole in the roof, landing a direct hit onto the zombie, the heavy metal knocking him off kilter and completely onto the ground.

“What in Bla-,” the zombie started, a thick cockney accent muffled by burlap. “Wha- Who the ‘ell throws an anvil?!”

“My name isn't worth your tongue, zombie,” Jonathan replied from the ceiling, zombie and captor looking up to meet him.

“Poco!”

“Celine!”

“Ooooyh, you've gotta lotta nerve ya bastard!” the zombie yelled as Jonathan jumped down from his perch. There was a rustle from the sack, a series of blurs bursting from the fabric and meeting skin in under a second, and followed by blood trickling down his face.

“Reheheheheh! I got you! I got you good, mate!” The zombie laughed, pumping his fists in the air. Jonathan felt the marks on his face, feeling punctures giving way to long scratches, as if clawed hands emerged to swipe him. Something was in that sack. As if he could read his mind, the zombie ripped the sack from his head with more cackles of delight, serpents of all sizes and colors emerging from his very skull.

“Hehehehheeh! The ladies done got you good, boy! Surprised!?” The zombie was absolutely euphoric, laughing and smiling with exposed teeth and a tongue much too long to be natural.

He saw the zombie move its head back as the snakes reared up, soon throwing his face forward as the snakes shot forward to meet Jonathan. Not even stopping time, he let the snakes slide between his fingers as he let Hamon run up them, wherever their tails rested in the skull sending the pulse to boil the monster alive. As Jonathan let the serpents go, a few took lunges at their host as he screamed and tried to claw them from his flesh. He was left as nothing but scraps of cloth and leather, the serpents dispersing into the shadows and making the room echo with a faint hissing. Poco took his sister in his arms, both laughing and crying in their reunion as Jonathan was about to have a reunion of his own. He flung the door open, his instincts proving right as he saw Dio standing in the moonlight.

“I’m back from hell, Dio.”

He gave a faint laugh from the end of the room, glancing over his shoulder casually.

“So it seems, jojo.”

Dark shadows scuttled overhead, clamoring down the walls like humanoid spiders, their faces being fused and impossible masses of flesh and scales.

“Let us kill him, my lord,” some hissed in the horde. “We will make his bones a monument to your greatness!”

He felt one above him, slinking down with an energy to him like his flesh was filled with frenzied ants. He felt it jump down to meet him, hearing the scream short after, but caught its throat in his hands before turning and planting its face firm betwixt the stones with a crack and ooze, letting the zombie fall before turning back to face Dio and his lackeys. The other undead were eager, shifting weapons in their hands and snarling like hounds on the hunt. Dio merely held up a hand, his fiends seeming almost disappointed before they returned to their posts in the rafters.

“He is mine and mine alone,” he declared as the last few lingered, the final order enough to send them away. He pushed away a few stray hairs, poised as uncaring as ever.

“I will be honest with you, jojo, I really wasn’t looking forward to this,” Dio said with the same honey that had lead Jonathan to believe his lies for years before. “I sent those two to you as, well, think of it as an act of mercy. To make you a zombie myself seemed as cruel as it would be poetic.  As much as I really do hate to admit, you grew on me.”

Jonathan watched him as he paced around the room, almost bored looking as he was giving his spiel. Jonathan tried hard to squint at him and harder still to charge him as he fills the air with his nonsense.

“But now I see. I see my weakness as a ruler, my little piece of humanity, my final act of kindness go wasted ,” Dio stopped his pacing with his back to Jonathan, soon turning his head to meet him and just shy of going completely backwards. “For that, I will rip you apart myself without guilt.”

“It seems we’ve finally agreed on something, Dio” Jonathan replied through gritted teeth. But Dio simply laughed, turning to face him and the door once again.

“Oh? This is quite the development,” He said, nearly giggling even, as he looked into the next room. “You’ve picked up some strays, but I do not see that odd man from before?”

When he notices the hat atop Speedwagon's head, the humor of the situation seemed to overcome him as he began to laugh, Jonathan’s rage building higher and higher.

“This pains me as a gentleman,” Jonathan started as he clenched a fist and raised his head to glare dead into Dio’s eyes. “But I will kill you myself to satisfy my anger!”

“Then do it, Jojo!”

Before Jonathan could take his bait, Dire placed a firm hand on his shoulder, moving past him with a sharp look to his eyes.

“I had been a dear friend of Zeppeli’s for 20 years,” He says as he passes, “I have my right to revenge.”

As Dire marched on, Jonathan wanted to stop him, to tell him all Dio has done to him and his family in under a month alone, but he stops as Straights’ smaller hand takes Dire’s place.

“Dire, he has an ability th-”
“Trust in him, Jonathan,” Straits said as he pulled him back softly. “Dire will not fail.”

Jonathan could only look on and hope he was right.

As Dire moved, he seemed to be in multiple places at once, all in a line with a faint overlap to them. While Dio had seemed unamused by the interference, this development earned a raised brow.

“So this is all humanity can must with its training? Minor illusions?” Dio sneered as Dire rose to the air as he had against Jonathan, slow and calculating. “I’ve surpassed the lot of you in a single night, and this is all you bring to the table?”

He took Dire by the feet just as Jonathan had, his grin now wild and frenzied.

“Such slow movement is laughable! I should be insulted that you even try such a-”

Dire flung his legs wide, his hands in a cross before his face.

“You fell for it, you fool!”

Speedwagon lit up, wide eyes and optimistic.

“He didn’t cross his hands before! With this, he can’t counter without a bite of Hamon! It-it’s perfect!”

Straights smiled over his shoulder to Speedwagon.

“A keen eye,” Straights said with a hinting of a laugh. “Not a fighter alive has countered it.”

Dio’s eyes of surprise sharpened to a dark glee, even as Dire’s hands neared his face. Rising from Dire’s legs was a wave of ice, entombing his body spare his head as Dio laughed once again.

“Weakling!” He shouted as the dark realization of death washed over the room. “You come to die like dogs before me! Wrrrrrrrrrrry!”

In a single fluid motion, Dio shattered Dire like glass, leaving his head to fall upon a bed of roses as more frost crept along his neck.

“Jojo, you’ve been so patient,” Dio said as he dusted off his hands. “Now you too can taste oblivion!”

Jonathan took Straights hand from his shoulder, pushing it aside as he grits his teeth, before he breached the threshold. As they drew closer, there was a blur of yellow and green, Dio soon screeching and clutching his smoldering eye as a single rose fell to the floor.

“D-Dire!”

“A rose’s thorns dig twice as deep with hamon, don’t they? Hehe.” The frost continued to envelope his head until he fell silent, shifting into the roses and finally succumbing to his wounds.

Dio stood in stunned silence, his eye falling from the socket in a smoldering heap.

“How-How dare you…” He growled. “How dare you scar my face you insolent curs!”

Chapter Text

“Speedwagon,” Jonathan barked, Robert pulled from gazing to Dire’s frozen head to the fight unfolding. He took up the scabbard of (P)Luck, tossing the sword past Dire and Tonpeti to rest in Jonathan’s hands.

“I’ve been thinking on how to counter your flash freeze,” Jonathan said as he caught the scabbard. “How to kill you.”

He pulled the blade out, Bruford’s blood still a bold ‘P” upon the blade.

“I have my plans and I will see them through!”

The World rose from his back as (P)Luck sparked with Hamon, the same rage flaring around the shining stand as Dio's own composure shattered.

“How dare you and your frog piss hamon even think to touch me!” He shrieked as he clawed at the empty socket, even as a new eye slowly grew to fill the charcoal space. “I'll rip your heads away and feed them to the hoards myself, bastards!”

At their master's cries, the undead dropped from the ceiling with even more seeming to crawl from the very brickwork. They moved quickly, Poco clinging tight to his sister and Speedwagon tighter still to his hammer. Straights took to the hoards quickly, felling them in lines with swift chops of energy.

“A rose can store hamon as it is a living thing,” he said as he avoided the combined attack of a larger swarm.

“So to use metal,” he leapt to reach the room’s apex, kicking a chandelier from its holdings and riding it down. “I must apply it directly!”

The metal flared with sparks as the wave turned to ash, Speedwagon looking to Jonathan and Dio as he finished a swing of his hammer.

“They seem even now on terms of speed,” he thinks as he goes back for another hit. “And it seems like Mr. Joestar has a plan but... One slip up and its curtains.”

Dio had leapt to the balcony ledge, fuming and baring teeth like a raged animal as Jonathan made his own approach, slow and calm. Dio was the first to move in for an attack, Jonathan ducking to the left as Dio descended to strike him. Swinging the blade through Dio's arm with cracks and sizzles, the vampire continued to yell and lunge with his claws even as Jonathan backpedaled and wound up a downward slash, catching Dio clean between the eyes and digging till it met the beginning of his pelvis, blood spraying outward and peppering anything in range with red. Jonathan could move the blade no further as his worst fear was realized: the blade too now was frozen with Dio digging fingers into his neck.

“You'll make a fine servant, JoJo!” Cried Dio as he slid deeper. “What shall I make of you then, hm? How about one of those mongrels you loved so much?”

He rolled a vein between his fingers with a devilish smirk.

“Oh look. Should my memory serve, this is the carotid artery. It’s so warm…” he was practically cooing as he squished it between his fingers.

Jonathan rose a leg to meet Dio in his bliss, but was countered by a knee to his rising leg and a quick tap to the opposite leg.

“You don't want to do that, JoJo, or I'll rip this clean out,” he hissed as he leaned in to gaze deeper at the artery. “One quick swipe and I can fill you with myself. Blood for blood. Isn't that right, jojo?”

Jonathan smirked, Dio's eyes going wide.

“Do you really think this was my only plan, Dio?”

They stood in a stalemate, The World drifting behind Dio slowly, scanning him.

“I may not be able to use Hamon when frozen, but you can't extract from me either: this is your great flaw.”

The ice of the blade was dripping away, Dio's own breaking growing slightly panicked as he turned to see the blade over a brasier of flame. He rose a hand to strike the blade, only to be met with searing embers dumped upon his head, a different brasier held by The World as its master lunged forward, landing a solid blow to Dio's face, leaving him reeling...but still alive.

“He could freeze him even with his head alight!? Is there no stopping that ice?!” Speedwagon yelled before fending off another zombie.

“You just couldn't seal the deal, JoJo…” Dio hissed as his arm inched across the floor to him, quickly being plucked up and reattached.

“It was a remarkable effort,” he added as he brought the halves of his body together, giving his chin an extra tap to straighten out. “Your work with the flame was impressive, astounding even...but, no dice. My freeze is unbeatable, especially to your useless ripples. In but two seconds, I can freeze you whole!”

Jonathan gripped his frozen hand, Dio's extract rejected and running down his neck.

“Seconds?” Jonathan said, almost a laugh as The World returned to him. “Time doesn't side with emperors, Dio.”

The World’s legs rested against Jonathan's skin, his stand standing against his chest like a swimmer poised to take off. Hamon flowed through the spirit at the touch, the outline of their form sparking even in Dio's eyes.

“What, what is this?”

“This, Dio, is the power of the human spirit,” Jonathan said, standing tall and proud with his frozen fist in hand. “This is the power of my stand: The World!”

A thunderous crack echoed through the darkness as a spectral fist struck Dio in the abdomen, the Stand’s sparking frame glittering in their eyes.

“CELESTIAL OVERDRIVE!”

“MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA! MUDA!”

Dios body was being ripped away in a flurry of sparks, flung to descend into the darkness around the towers.

“Not yet,” he growled as he fell. “I'LL TAKE YOU WITH ME!”

From his eyes sprang a fluid, faster than any water or bullet, aimed dead for Jonathan's head. Yet in the next instant, Jonathan was standing to the side, watching the line pass before casting his gaze down to the smoldering body. Even as Dio fell in flames, Jonathan shed tears.

Even after everything, he could think only of the time Dio had been a brother, truly a brother. It was the man he cried for as the monster plummeted: Dio Brando had died long before, now DIO would join him…

“Oh master… If you had but another body…”

Chapter Text

1888, December 4th, The London Press:

    Wind Knights Lot - December 1st, Overnight, 73 of the town’s 452 residence seemingly vanished. Police are investigating these disappearances, but with no avail as of yet…

1888, December 15th, The London Press:

    Wind Knights Lot... Two Weeks since the disappearances of the 73 villagers, Local Farmer Jeff Beck claims to have spotted four strange individuals burning what appeared to be men’s clothing beneath the cliffs of the manor on the hill. He claims to see a man retreat into the manor and return with what he could only describe as a “Face of Stone”. The man, a blonde individual pegged of average height, soon took a sledgehammer to it besides the burning cloth. There are no clues on whether this has any correlation with the disappearances.

    Dan Hamar has reported a stolen boat, claiming to be work of men of the orient…

The journey home was swift and somber, the four men in the carriage sitting in silence. When they emerged into the countryside of England, Jonathan looked to the rising sun and let himself smile. The rolling hills were an ease on his weary heart, memories of the brightened past parting the clouds of his heart. He thinks of Erina, the World resting his chin upon his shoulder with a smile of his own. As they near the city, Speedwagon stands in the carriage, all eyes on him now. He took Zeppeli’s hat in his hands and placed it over his chest.

“Gentlemen,” He says, “It’s been an honor, but I’m afraid this is where I must say goodbye.”

He holds the hat to Straights and Tonpeti. “I trust you can get this to the family?”

Straights nods as Tonpeti takes the hat in his hands. “We will…”

Speedwagon straightened out, wiping a few stray tears from his eyes with his sleeve.

“Jonathan, you’d best not get into anymore trouble,” He said leaning forward and pointing a finger. “I’ve had enough adventure for my lifetime.”

“I’ll try,” Jonathan laughed as Speedwagon stood back up. “You should visit sometime…”

“Me? Nah. I’m worse with the high ups than I am at goodbyes.” Robert laughs as he adjusts his coat. “Best be off before you get me cryin’.”

He leans against the door before sliding open the window and slipping through the frame to climb onto the roof, Straights lunging to grab for him before he exited and the driver shouting bloody murder. Jonathan smiled after him, even as Straights was half leaning out after him. There came the honk and rumble of an automobile, Bringing them to the left of the carriage. It could barely be considered a buggy, but it was a lot like Speedwagon, in a way: a reliable piece of work no matter what you threw at it, even if what was thrown at it was a jumping Speedwagon, a stolen hat in his hands. He ended abruptly into the arms of Tattoo, who was quick to place him in shotgun before waving alongside an androgynous goon in a feathered cap and the other fighter from the street, all yelling to Jonathan with smiles.

“Au Revoir!”
“Auf Wiedersehen!”

“Adiós!”

Jonathan smiled wide before leaning out himself, waving with tears along his cheeks, the buggy honking all the while.

“An odd man, that one…” Tonpeti said as he watched the buggy speed away, cracking the first smile Jonathan had seen from the old man. “I like him.”

Straights sighed as he sunk back into his chair, easing his nerves.

“I was afraid you would say that, master…”

The rest of the ride had been calm, the carriage making a stop near the hotels to drop off Tonpeti and Straights, before leaving Jonathan alone... Well, as alone as he could be. The World joined him, sitting hunched up across from him and having to lean forward to accommodate his helmet. He looks at him with those wide and shining eyes, a light smile on his face.

“We did it,” He seemed to say as he tilted his head a bit with a wider grin. Soon he turned to face the window, eyes shooting wider as Jonathan’s own gaze moved; there he saw her. Erina was running along the hills, waving with one hand and holding up her dress with the other. He broke into a wide grin before pushing open the door and running out after her. Not as dexterous as Robert, he fell flat on his face first, Erina rushing down with wide eyes as he rose to his feet and ran again. When they met each other on those rolling hills, he picked her up and twirled her around, her laughter flushing his face deeper and deeper.

“Jojo, I’ve missed you so much!” She said between her laughs as she wrapped her arms around him as he slowed. She caught a look of his muddied face and laughed harder, Jonathan’s face growing mischievous as he rubbed his cheek against hers, laughing all the while.

It just felt right to ask her to marry him.

“Jojo, where are we going?”

“You’ll see, just trust me.”

The streets they walked along were, in Erina’s honest opinion, terrifying in their closeness. The walls all seemed to blend together, the colder winds biting at her face. She clung to Jonathan’s arm as he walked the moldy streets, scanning the walls and buildings with a determined look to his eye. The brickwork was old and cakes in god knows what and the streets lined with rubbish. She hadn’t the slightest clue what Jonathan was doing, but she trusts him... Jonathan, in truth, hasn’t the slightest where he’s going either. Robert had found him before, even then it was purely from luck. He also never bothered to ask where to visit on ogre street, the labyrinth of slums all just molding together as he walks. He swears he’s past that same few rows of shops already... Or maybe it was other shops... Or-
“Ey is that... Blimey, it is! Aye, Jojo!”

Jonathan looked to the walls, finding the familiar wall of muscle and leather.

“Hey, Tattoo,” He called back, raising a hand as Erina tired to be subtle with her unease, squeezing his arm a tad tighter. “Where’s Robert?”

“Boss? ‘E at the hol out,” Tattoo said before gesturing vaguely east. “It’s down...um... Ah, it’s be easier fer me ta take ya. Incomin’.”

He jumped down from his ledge into a snowbank, a plume of white raining down and powdering the couple as the burley goon brushed off his trousers before catching Erina’s look and smiling sheepishly.

“S-Sorry bout that, madam…”

Erina tried to smile back, looking more nervous than anything. “Not a problem…”

There was awkward silence before Tattoo started walking in a hurry, quick to keep Erina out of his field of vision and hunching up at so much at the glimpse of her. They moved through torn up streets made black by fires, finally stopping before an abandoned church, the faint tones of the organ still ringing out as they moved past to an old graveyard, Tattoo finally coming to meet a burly freckled woman armed with a spade before the entry to catacombs.

“Oi, Tatts, Watchu-,” She caught Erina in her gaze, then Jonathan, flat dropping the spade at the sight of him and shooting up straight, barely clearing Jonathan in height. “Blimey! Never ‘spected ta se yer mug... Much taller than boss said, ‘ent he?”

“‘Ome on, Donna, ain’t got time ta be standin’ round wit us.” Tattoo replied. “Big man ‘ere’s gotta see the boss.”

Donna picked up her spade and plunged it into the dirt with a bit of a huff, blowing a rogue curl from her face as she fiddled with a lock on the door and kicking it open for them.

“Nice ta see ya, Jojo,” She said as she picked the shovel from the dirt and leaned against the wall. “Boss’ been yappin all about ya fer bout a month already, Hot Shot. Head on down, Hon... Take yer man with ya.”

“Um, Thank you,” Erina said as Jonathan smiled and waved and started to walk down. When he thought he would see Speedwagon’s hold, he never imagined he would be descending into a catacomb. The initial descent was dark, but the bottom sprawled out in a massive room clearly chiseled from the original room, tunnels spreading out all across the ends with old carriages stacked along the room with various blankets and tarps set up. At the hall's end, resting atop a mound of rubble with a needle and thread making work on some fabric, was Speedwagon. He pricked a finger, shaking it against the air before putting it to his lips before his eyes trailed to Tattoo, Erina and Jonathan. He practically shot up from his work, putting the cloth and thread aside before sliding down from his perch.

“Mr. Joestar! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!” he cried as he had to resist the urge to hug him in the spot as he looked at Erina. “And who's this beautiful young lady?”

“Erina. Erina Pendleton,” she replied, keeping up courtesy. “I'm Jonathan’s -wait, did you want to tell him?”

“Tell me what?”

“Robert, she's my fiance.”

Speedwagon's face went nearly sheet white, his eyes wide first in shock then in absolute wonder, covering his mouth to hold back whatever cries of excitement were building.

“Oh Mrs. Pendleton,” he started with a hand over his heart. “You are one of the luckiest ladies in London, wait, no, the whole world.”

Erina smiled at the comment, taking Jonathan's hand.

“Actually, Mr. Speedwagon,”

“Oh, please, just call me Speedwagon.”

“Well then, Speedwagon,” Erina started with a bit of a laugh to her voice. “We were wondering if you would want to come to the wedding…”

If Speedwagon was shocked before, he was borderline fainting now, leaning upon stacks with his face a deep crimson.

“I- I don't know what to say,” he stammered as he fiddles at his hair. “This is an honor, truly it is, but…”

Speedwagon looks out across his people, huddled in the scraps of the city, before looking back to the loving couple.

“I'm not gonna beat around the bush here, JoJo... I can't. I bet if I stood anywhere near that altar, either god or the bobbies would nail me dead right there…” Their eyes fell a little as Speedwagon spoke, but he perked up a smile. “But I sure as hell can get you a gift fitting the queen herself.”

“Robert, you really don't have to,” Jonathan insists as Speedwagon beams brighter than any star or sun, Erina too being unable to smile along.

“Nonsense JoJo!” Robert yelled as he jumps atop a worn out roof and brandishing his hat.  “Mrs. Joestar, I, Robert Edward Orville Speedwagon, will personally bestow a gift the likes of which Orge Street hasn't seen since the time of the first runaway, I assure you!”

The whole of the chamber seems to echo with the claps of the slums as Speedwagon bows with his hat, both Erina and Jonathan going red at the sudden attention. He rises again and jumps from his tower, shining.

“So, when is it?”

“February,” They say in sync before blushing deeper and laughing a bit.

“February second with the honeymoon in on the third.”

Speedwagon claps him on the shoulder with a wide smile before looking to Erina again.

“America... A fine place for a couple a newlyweds. What vessel did you book, hm?”

“The Passion,” Erina says flushing after a moment. “Seemed like a fitting name…”

Speedwagon laughs and is all smiles as he practically skips to his throne of rubble.

“I'll have the gift aboard by your honeymoon, now go on ya love birds, don't let this old man smother you with his romantics.”

As they say their goodbyes, Tattoo giving but a faint wave as the rest of the slums waved and hollered, Jonathan can't help but wonder now just how old Robert was...

Chapter Text

When he kissed her at the altar, he didn't need his stand to stop time. He wanted to be in her arms forever, her soft lips against his own. He holds her tight as the doves ascend and petals flutter in the breeze... He catches a glimpse of coat tails from the window…

“I'M LATE!”

“AYE, YOU DIDN'T PAY YA HOODLUM!”

Speedwagon rushed from the harborside cafe, jumping over pulled carts and shoving through crowds. He nearly clipped a crate as he ran, sliding under it as the men carrying it shouted after him before the hurried along, Robert only barely being able to snag his hat from the ground before he left.

“Boss, ya almost missed em,” Yelled Tattoo from the crowd, Straights trying to make his wince as subtle as possible in the small crowd.

“Tattoo, they aren't even here yet,” Dao sighed as he looked up harshly.

“We never know!”

“They should be here about…”

“I see them! Mr. Speedwagon, I see em!”

Tonpeti smiled. “Yes, about now…”

The small posse clapped and hollered loudest of all as Erina and Jonathan boarded the ship, smiling wide and waving to the crowds, smiling widest when they caught each other's eyes.

“I'll be there for ya,” Speedwagon thinks as he runs down the length of the dock after the boat with Poco and his men, Tattoo even scooping the boy up onto his shoulders as Robert gripped a lamp post. “I'll run cross the ocean if I have too. Hehe. Even if I just get in the way, ya can't shake me that easy…”

Erina leans a head on Jonathan’s shoulder as they get accustomed to the vessel, Jonathan resting soft kisses against her cheek. She rises to kiss him back, a parcel upon a night stand catches her eye. Wrapped in paper and littered with scrawled on names, the boldest of them is three simple letters: SPW.

“Oh, JoJo, look, I think that's Speedwagon's gift.”

She rises from the bed, slipping from Jonathan’s loose hold as she takes it in her hands. Some of the signatures are noticeable: Tattoo’s large and crude letters, Dao’s precise Chinese strokes, the hasty swirls of Donna and finally the brazen calligraphy of Speedwagon. She sat atop the bedding one again, Jonathan poking over her shoulder as she untied the merger brown thread that held the wrapping. From the wrapping came a dress, starting plain and white at the top before giving way to a rainbow of pleated fabric, the seams nearly invisible as she held it up and a flurry of notes fell from the folds.

“Hope this fits. Donna ain't the most cooperative mannequin. -Speedwagon”

“I tried to convince him to make ya a matching one, JoJo. Maybe as a coming home present. -Donna.”

“Tattoo says that you'd best treat her nice or he'll thump you himself... He's much too shy to write it. -Halen.”

“IGNORE HALEN!” -Tattoo

Finally came a large envelope, more of a second parcel than anything, bright and sparking ink across its front.

“From Ogre Street, with love!”

Jonathan pulled the paper open from behind her, finding more bright fabrics underneath. They started to take it from the wrapping, but found but more and more bands of yellow and green until it seemed to lap around the bed.

“He did say they would be grand gifts,” Erina laughed as Jonathan found himself tangled in the large scarf. Jonathan laughed too as she struggled to free him without damaging it, The World even having to get involved to free him fully and fold the scarf as best they could. That first night, they let themselves get tangled in more than just scarves…

Erina stands on the bow in her gifted dress, even as the air chills her exposed shoulders as she watches the birds. One lands softly on a railing, weary and peeping, before another breaches from the flock to join them, rubbing their heads against one another with a few trills. She cries a little as she watches them, but not tears of sadness.

“Something wrong, love?” Jonathan asks her as he comes around to join her, taking her softly in his arms. “Why are you crying?”

“They’re happy tears, Jojo,” she sniffles as she wipes them away. “Because I get to be with you.”

Jonathan smiled down to her, placing a kiss upon her forehead, before he took her hand.

“I feel the same... Come on, let's go get some food,”

He leads her gently, lost in her eyes... He seems to forget his height that way.

“Jonathan, watch for the,”

Thud.

“Gyah, fuck,” He muttered before he clapped a hand over his mouth as the other rubbed his head. Erina laughed a little, even at the slip of the tongue.

“I was going to tell you to watch your head,” she giggles as she slips by him to the stairs. “It seems our friend Robert has rubbed off on you…”

She planted another kiss on his lips before she began her descent into the lower deck, the sweeping violins of the orchestra echoing even outside as Jonathan blushed, the same thought across their minds: “If only today could last forever.”

He follows her soon enough, the dinner being fine steak and wines with garnish. They took their seats and let the music compliment the tones of cutlery.

“Erina, you should really try this wine,” Jonathan says as he attempts to pass his glass.

“No thank you. I've never had alcohol before and…”

“Come on, it isn't strong at all, here” Jonathan leans a bit over, letting her take the glass to her lips and take a light sip. She smiles with red cheeks, but that isn't all that catches his eye.

“Y-you…” Jonathan rises from his chair, locking an every familiar eye across the way: the poison seller.

“Erina, I... I'll be back, but you must go to our room and lock the door,” Jonathan says as he begins to rush to the door. The man was swift, bounding to the lower reaches of the vessel in no time flat as Jonathan gave chase.

“He shouldn't be alive, let alone here,” he thinks as he turns the corner to another stairway. “That means…”

“You've done well, my servant…”

“Dio!”

Resting in a glass case was but a head, blonde hair matted and stained by blood congealed at the base of the neck. Even in his prison of glass, he cocked a smile at JoJo.

“How the mighty have fallen, right JoJo?” he laughs. “My underestimation has become admiration, JoJo. This alone is why I am here before you now in such a... Pitiful state… I realized, only as I truly neared death, that there would be no me without you. It was your notes that lead me to the mask, but also your tenacity that kept me from the world. If there is a god, he has sewn our fates fast together.”

His eyes grew serious, almost aglow in the copper and steel of the boiler room.

“Us, two halves of one destiny, are meant to be one: This is my own path! The path forged with your corpse, jojo!” His pupils seemed to spread open like flowers, the fluid building at the center. “The Wo-”

“JONATHAN!”

His eyes moved away as he reached to block on instinct, just a hair too slow on bringing out The World as the ripping fluids pierced his hands and neck in a spray of blood, Jonathan falling to the floor with sharp gasps.

“J-Jonathan!”

“Er...rina…,” Jonathan struggled to breath, to stand, to do anything, merely sputtering up more blood as Erina looked on in awe and horror.

“If you hadn’t moved, this would have been painless, jojo” Dio hisses from his cage as his pupils closed. “I would have hit you dead between the eyes…”

Erina took a single step before Dio’s eyes shot to see her, a wry grin across his face.

“Hello, Erina… ”

She froze on the spot, Dio ordering his minion to turn him to face her.

“Please Pendleton, no... Mrs. Joestar... You must recognize me, even if this form is...less than ideal.”

He licked his lips, and in that moment, Erina knew.

“Dio Brando…”

There came a symphony of cracking wood, undead bursting from the walls around them as any human passengers left ran screaming for their lives. A woman was flung down the stairs behind Erina, sliding past her with a baby in her arms, still crying as the mother’s skull cracked against the mahogany.

“The ship is ours, my lord,” The ghoul cackled as Dio looked upon the handiwork unfolding. “We’ll be in America in no time!”

Jonathan reached forward, dragging himself along with gritted teeth.

“I can’t breathe...can’t speak... But... I... I won't let Erina die…”

The zombie plunged a bare foot into Jonathan’s hand with a laugh.

“He’s absolutely helpless! I could pound him to mince meat, my lord! Ooh! Or shall we watch him suffer for-”

“Wang Chan.”

“Yes my lord?”

“Show jojo respect lest I rip you apart myself,” Dio hissed, Wng Chan gulping as the threat before turning the case to face Jonathan again. “He cannot be underestimated: remember the stand.”

Wang Chan kept up his cackling, jumping into the air with his master upon his arm like a falcon perched.

“His corpse shall be my future! WRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY! ”

“Not Erina!”

Time stops, The World seeming to strain with each second. The tubes of his back were severed, hanging limp and useless, with two identical holes in his own hands. He took Wang Chan by the leg, sending what remained of Jonathan’s hamon shooting up. When time snapped back, Dio’s case shattered from the shock of the wave as Wang Chan was sent barreling into the mechanisms, getting a death hold on the screw shaft.

“Time... Erina, I’ve given you time…”

Dio’s head takes to the ceiling by his hairs as Erina takes Jonathan in her arms, tears streaming down her face as The World slowly faded into the air.

“Jojo, no, you can’t. You can’t die…” She wept as she buried her face against the light beat of his heart. “You... You can’t…”

“Erina…” Jonathan manages to gasp. “R-Run... The ship...won’t last much longer…,”

“I don’t care,” She snaps through her tears. “I-I don’t understand what is going on, but... I, Erina Joestar, will die with you!”

She pulled his head to her own, locking him into a kiss, Jonathan limply raising a hand to caress her cheek.

“Erina... You have so much to live for... Don’t... Don’t waste it on me…”

He turns his head, coughing up another spurt of blood, gazing to the weeping baby in the bloody arms of its mother. “The child... T-Take the child and...leave this place…”

“J-Jojo, y-you’re crazy! I-I want to do it: to die with y-”

“Erina... She died as my mother had... To defend her child…”

She looked to the mother with wide eyes before looking back to Jonathan and burying her face once again in his chest.

“Stubborn till the end,” Dio hisses from above. “Well as am I, Jojo! I will have your body! You, zombies, rip Wang’s Corpse away! Free the shaft!”

As the zombies neared, the first wave of explosions started, the horde blown into bits and Erina shielding herself with her arms, eyes closed. When she opened them, Jonathan was hunched before her, shards of metal in his back with a faint smile on his lips.

“I Will... Always... Support you…”

“USELESS! Do you think I, Dio haven’t throat through every possibility?!” Dio screeched as veins from his neck extended down and constricted Jonathan’s neck. “This coffin shall be your tomb and my place of rebirth, Jojo!”

He descended quickly, Erina rushing to avoid more explosions and taking the baby in her arms as Dio drew close.

“Erina…. Be happy…” Jonathan whispers... It all stops once more... One final time.

The World is crumbling, taking Dio’s veins and pulling Dio downward as its form snapped and shattered with each second.

1 second...2 seconds...3 seconds…

Jonathan wraps his arms around Dio’s head slowly, The World  passing him down with care.

4 seconds...5 seconds...6 seconds…

Jonathan looks the World in the eyes, their eyes filled with sorrow and acceptance. Jonathan is glad to have had him by side not as a weapon, but as a friend.

7 seconds...8 seconds...9 seconds…

“Wha- grrrrr, JOJO! LET GO! Think about it jojo, you can live forever! Erina too! Jojo!”

Dio’s eyes go wide, belief lost in his lips.

“He-... He’s dead…”

Twin stars streaking through the heavens stir the surface of light and darkness; their ripples echo together. The sun leads those who seek the path of glory, demanding a sacrifice from all who pursue their ambition...