Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It's not time to make a change

Just relax, take it easy

You're still young, that's your fault

There's so much you have to know

Heaven was quite different than Jonathan imagined it would be. 

It wasn't the traditional idea of heaven. No pearly gates or angel chorus greeted him when he first arrived, and so far he hadn't met an omnipotent creator, though perhaps they were very busy dealing with the living people on Earth. Instead, it was more of an ever-expanding landscape of clouds and fog. There were no trees or flowers to add a bit of color, no man-made structures like homes or shops to visit, no seasons or weather to liven up the days.

This world was controlled by thought. If Jonathan wanted to read a book, he could concentrate on that want and a bookshelf would appear before him, lined with a thousand books he'd never even heard of before yet all fit his current interests. If he wanted to speak with someone, he'd merely have to think of a person and a road would form, leading towards friends and family. The only thing it couldn’t do was answer anything asked with malicious or harmful intent. He wasn’t quite sure how it was able to detect that (nor did it really affect him since he wasn’t an inherently vengeful person), but it could do many bizarre things, so it was best not to question it.

It was a strange existence, Jonathan decided, but it wasn't terrible. 

He spent most of his days - although they weren't "days" in the typical fashion, as there was no sun or moon to mark the passage of time - with his parents. He'd never known his mother, as she had passed away when he was just a baby, but she knew him quite well. 

"I watched you grow up, JoJo." She told him. "From this spirit world, I was able to watch you grow into a strong and gentle young man. I'm ever so proud of you."

"Really? The dead can watch the living?" Jonathan asked, hope fluttering in his chest.

"Not quite. The dead can watch their children, but nothing more." His father said. "If the child dies, they cannot go back."

Jonathan's heart sank. He'd hoped he could visit Erina; even if he could not talk to her directly, he still desperately wanted to see her face again, to know if she was handling his sudden death well.

There was, of course, a possibility that she might give birth, but it was a slim chance. They had been married for a mere five days, and there was very little opportunity during that time in which they could have conceived a child.

Still, Jonathan tried not to let it bother him. Erina would join him in her own time, and hopefully it wouldn’t be soon. Perhaps she would get remarried. The thought of losing the love of his life wasn't exactly a pleasant one, but in the end Erina's happiness was more important than his own, and if she could find that in the company of another man then Jonathan would wholly support her.

So while he waited for the day she would join him, Jonathan spent his time in the company of the family he had here with him. 

He got to know his mother for the first time. His father had always told him of her when he was a boy; the courage she had, her natural curiosity for oddities, and the warmth her smile brought over any being. Now that Jonathan could properly meet her, he could clearly see those same qualities as well. 

He reunited with his father, who praised his son for the courage he'd shown in the face of danger and apologized for not being a proper loving father while he was alive. Jonathan told him there was no need to worry, that it was all in the past and it even built a bit of character.

He was even able to play with Danny once again like he had done when he was a young boy. The old dog was still as loyal and energetic as he had been all those years ago, nearly tackling Jonathan to the ground when they met again.

Eventually, Jonathan sought out Zeppeli, to properly thank the man for training him in the ways of Hamon, and for giving him enough strength through his sacrifice to aid him in his technically-not-final battle with Dio. 

"I only wish I could have given you enough to let you live a long and fulfilling life, JoJo." The old Hamon master had replied, a sad sort of smile on his face.

Jonathan shook his head. "You did what you could, and I am forever grateful. The last few months I spent with you and Speedwagon were some of the best I've ever had."

Zeppeli tipped his top hat backwards, looking up at the empty sky. "The life of a Hamon warrior is a difficult one. I left behind a wife and son in my pursuits to destroy the stone mask, and while I do not regret it, I still wish I could have been more present in their lives before I passed on.”

“You can still watch them from here, though, right?” Jonathan asked.

“Of course, and what a blessing that is.” Zeppeli lifted the golden string hovering at his chest, tied directly to his heart; the string that guided the spirits back to the living world, allowing them to watch their families. “I had thought that I might be cursed never to see them again, but it seems whatever God rules this land is a merciful one. However, it’s far from a perfect solution. Spirits cannot interact with their loved ones, only watch from afar. As much as I would love to speak with them again, or comfort them when troubled, there is little I can do.”

“I see…” Jonathan murmured. 

Zeppeli clapped a hand on the young man’s shoulder, abruptly changing the subject. “Well enough of this dull lamenting. We’re dead, so let’s lighten up a little, shall we? You’ve already defeated Dio, so we ought to celebrate!” He pulled a wine bottle and two glasses out of thin air, pouring out the drinks and handing one to Jonathan while raising his own in the air. “A toast to our lives, however short they may have been!”

“Ah, right. To our lives!” Jonathan clinked his glass against Zeppeli’s. He stared at the deep red liquid in his hands, watching his own reflection become distorted by the ripples on its crimson surface. 

“Something wrong, JoJo?”

“It’s nothing…” He murmured, taking a sip from the sweet beverage and staring upwards. “It’s just...where is Dio? I tried to find him here, and yet I couldn’t reach him. Do you think...do you think he may still be alive?”

Zeppeli sighed. “I don’t know much about how this place operates, JoJo. Whether evil spirits are sent to hell, I cannot say. But if there’s one thing I do know is that looking for that man will not bode well for you. Leave the devil be. I’m sure he’s experiencing a rather fitting punishment for his cruelties.”

Jonathan nodded blankly, but it did little to quell the sinking, gnawing want for an answer constantly tugging at his chest. To be truthful, he wasn’t sure why he wanted to see Dio again.

He was the reason for Jonathan’s early death, the cause of so much pain and misery throughout his life. Even now, he couldn’t fully forgive Dio for everything he had done.

But at the end of the day, they were still brothers. Adopted brothers, and only for about eight years - not even half their life times - but brothers nonetheless. Even if all those years spent under the same roof were nothing but carefully calculated deceptions meant to lure Jonathan into a false sense of security while Dio formed his schemes, there was genuine joy found in those memories. Perhaps Dio hadn’t been feigning kindness the entire time. Perhaps shrouded in the darkness of that vampire’s heart was a sliver of a human man.

Perhaps they could be brothers again, as they once were, and with that thought in his head Jonathan finished off the last of his glass, staring out into the unknown beyond.

Chapter Text

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.

About nine months after his death, a golden string to the living world formed around Jonathan’s heart. 

He was ecstatic, immediately running to tell his parents the exciting news: that despite all odds, despite the low chances of it ever happening, he had become a father. He could barely turn the overwhelming thoughts of joy burning in his chest into coherent sentences, babbling incoherently like a child until his mother and father both held him by his shoulders and told him to go visit his wife and child. 

“Ah, right! Of course!” Jonathan laughed. “Um, how exactly would I go about doing that?”

“Just take hold of the rope and follow it where it leads.” His mother told him. “Don’t stop walking until you get there.”

“But how will I know when that is?”

“You’ll know it when you see it.” She gently placed a kiss on his forehead. “Now go on. Your child is waiting.”

So Jonathan followed the string, clinging to it tightly as it led him into deep into the fog, the ashy mist around him slowly becoming darker and darker as time went on. Soon he began to wonder if there even was a fog, as it had become so dark that it felt like a cold black void. Would it always be such a long and dark journey, no matter how many times he went to visit after today, he wondered?

Eventually light began to dispel the darkness around him, and his nerves began to settle. Jonathan took another step forward, and as if he’d suddenly crossed some great and magical threshold into a new realm, the void was instantly replaced with the warm glow of a hospital. 

Erina was lying on a bed, panting heavily and drenched in sweat. Jonathan felt a pang of sadness. He had no experience with childbirth, but he heard the process was quite painful. Still, it was one thing to read about it and another to see the aftermath with his own eyes. At least he could take some comfort in the fact that Erina’s father and Speedwagon were here with her, with Erina’s father doubling as a supervising doctor as well as a console to his daughter

An older grey-haired nurse approached the bedside, carrying a bundle of cloth in her arms. “Congratulations, Ms. Joestar! It’s a healthy baby boy.”

Erina smiled, taking the bundle from the older woman’s arms, revealing a tiny baby wrapped tightly in a soft blanket as he cried loudly.

Jonathan felt his stomach drop as he looked down at his son. He was so small, much smaller than he was expecting, and it looked as though even the smallest touch might shatter him like glass. His skin was pink, his brown hair damply clinging to his head. It was surreal to think that this boy was truly his own son, that he and Erina made this child all on their own. 

His son opened his eyes, blue eyes locking with his father’s matching pair, and Jonathan melted.

“What a handsome little lad he is…” Speedwagon murmured softly. “Jonathan would have loved to see him, I’m sure.”

Erina stroked her son’s cheek. “I’m sure Jonathan’s watching us, wherever he is. He wouldn’t miss this for the world.” 

Warmth spread through Jonathan, and he found himself laughing joyfully at the innocent remark. “I am, Erina. You’re right. There’s no way I’d ever miss something as important as this.” He instinctively reached out to hug both of them, only for his arms to pass right through as if they were air. He instead adjusted his ghostly embrace to hover just above their bodies, ignoring how awkward it felt for his arms to dangle in the air.

“So then, what are you going to name him?” Erina’s father asked.

Erina stared into her son’s wide blue eyes for a long time, gently rocking him back and forth to calm his cries. “...I don’t think I’ll name him after JoJo. It just feels odd to pass on his name so soon. I think...I think I’ll name him after JoJo’s father; George Joestar.”

Speedwagon nodded. “George Joestar the second. It’s a wonderful name, lady Erina.” 

It was a wonderful name, Jonathan silently agreed. He could hardly wait to let his father know the great honor he had been given. 

Time quickly passed, like it always did in the world of the living, and it wasn’t long before everyone had left the hospital for the night, leaving Erina and George to sleep peacefully. Jonathan never left her side, even after the lights went out and they were alone in the dark. A new mother and father, and their newborn son. 

Jonathan walked over to the crib where George lay underneath a soft blanket, tiny head resting on a plush pillow. He knelt down, letting his arms phase through the bars as he pressed his large ghostly hand on his son’s head. There was no sensation of touch beneath his palm, and it stung a little, realizing he wouldn’t be able to truly hold George in his arms until he crossed to the other side. 

But at least he got to see him, and that was more than enough right now. 

He watched the little boy - his little boy, that thought was still so jarring - slumber peacefully in his cradle. The moonlight faintly streaming in from a nearby window highlighted the ever-present star birthmark of the Joestar family on his bare little neck. Jonathan reached for his own, rubbing the five-pointed purple marking on his shoulder with his hand, then gently tracing the mark on his son. 

“Hello there, George.”

George did not respond. Jonathan hadn’t expected him to, of course, but speaking to his newborn child felt comforting, in a way.

“I know you won’t get to see me for a long time,” he continued, stroking his fingers against the boy’s tiny cheeks, “but I’ll still be here for you. To tell you the truth, I don’t know much about being a father, much less a ghostly one, but…” he laughed, suddenly, wondering why he was going on about that in front of his not-even-a-day-old son, as if he were somehow able to respond; as if George would sit up and answer him like a full-grown adult.

What were you supposed to do with babies, anyways? Jonathan had no younger siblings or cousins, so he knew very little about them. He’d seen pictures in books, and dolls in toy shops, but never a real living one, let alone his own son. 

Lullabies, he thought, suddenly. Parents sang lullabies to children to help them fall asleep.

Unfortunately, Jonathan didn’t know any lullabies. Anything his mother or nanny may have sung to him when he was young was long forgotten, and he hadn’t spent as much time listening to the phonograph or attending concerts as other people did. He was always so caught up in his studies and explorations, and any songs he did hear never fully stuck in his head, breaking off and only leaving behind the most memorable chunks. 

Well, maybe he could work with that.

So Jonathan began humming a wordless patchwork tune, pieces of concertos roughly mixed with playground rhymes. It was such a strange little song, with no particular flow or rhythm to it, just the mellow droning sound rising up from Jonathan’s throat, impossible to be heard by anyone else that night. 

It wasn’t until the muffled gong-like bellows of the grandfather clock in the hallway started going off that Jonathan noticed he’d been here for several hours, doing nothing but sing his son a nameless lullaby. Perhaps he should be heading back now. He needed to tell his mother and father about this, and Zeppeli too. 

“Goodnight George.” Jonathan whispered in the darkness. He pressed a gentle kiss against his son’s tiny forehead, as if trying not to disturb him, and quietly walked away. A promise was forming in his heart - a promise to spend all the time he could with George, and be as good a father as he could be, even if the boy would never know.

The years passed on, and Jonathan spent every day he could with George. Hours - sometimes even entire days - visiting the living world, following the string tied to his heart to his wife and son. 

George was growing up quite well. Erina was an excellent mother, though Jonathan never would have doubted her abilities. She was a perfect balance of kind and gentle, yet strict and firm when need be. 

Speedwagon also stopped by occasionally. He had become a sort of unofficial uncle to George, as well as a financial benefactor to Erina after she gave birth, providing her with funds he'd earned from the profitable oil business he'd started up in America, and allowing her to spend more time with her son rather than letting nannies and wet nurses care for him.

They were a lovely family. A lovely family Jonathan so desperately wished he could be a part of. Times when George awoke from a nightmare, times when he argued and fought against Erina's instructions, times when Erina collapsed on her bed and whispered her struggles to no one in particular. It was days and nights like those where Jonathan found himself cursing Dio for leading him to an early grave. He could offer no comfort to his family, just stand by and watch tears fall and arguments spur. 

At the very least, it was a blessing he was even able to visit them at all. And those moments of pain didn't last long - Erina was quick to comfort her son when he cried out, and George was a kindhearted little boy who saw his mother’s stress and guilt and would often curl into her arms when those feelings overtook her. All in all, it was worth it, in the end. The happiness of his family washed away any sense of helplessness like fresh spring rain on a budding garden.

The times of grief only became fewer and fewer the older George became. He was a bright young man, making friends at school easily and scoring high on his exams. Jonathan especially enjoyed watching his son discover hobbies and passions of his own. Airplanes seemed to be George’s favorite subject of personal study. Ever since he heard of the Wright brothers’ flight when he was fifteen, he has spent hours upon hours fantasizing about flying high above the world. He’d even built a replica of the Wright’s flying machine itself - non-functional, of course. 

“I’ll fly one of those someday!” He chipperly told Erina one day, and Jonathan couldn’t have felt prouder.

Years passed on, and George grew into an adult. He headed off to university, and dropped out shortly afterwards to attend Britain’s first flying school. Towards the end of the Great War, he served in the Royal Air Force as a pilot on the battlefield. A stressful time for Jonathan - the war had already proven quite horrific so far, with too many needless deaths - but it ended less than a year later and George returned home safe and sound, still kept on by the RAF full-time even after the war’s closure.

It wasn’t long after the war ended when George finally settled down. Funnily enough, the woman he married was the baby Erina had saved from the burning ship all those years ago. She had been adopted by Straitzo shortly afterward, and had apparently been training for years in the art of Hamon. (She was a master at it, really. Jonathan knew that, were he still alive, he would have no chance against her in a dual).  

Her name was Elizabeth. George liked to call her Lisa Lisa. 

Together they had a son: a tiny baby boy with teal eyes and a scruffy mop of brown hair. Joseph Joestar, they named him, and Jonathan couldn’t have been more excited to become a grandfather.

It was odd, when he thought about it. Jonathan was technically older than his son - he may have been mortally dead at twenty, but his spirit was more than fifty years old by now - and yet physically George was the elder of the two. He was in his thirties, as tall and broad as his father, but he showed more signs of aging. Sometimes, Jonathan would stand side by side next to his son and stare back and forth between them, wondering if he might have looked like that, had his life been any longer. 

But it was alright, he supposed. Children were meant to outlive their parents anyways, though usually it wasn’t by these particular means. Jonathan didn’t let such a minor thing bother him. In the end, it was a blessing that George had lived this long, able to live such a rich life while his father had barely made it past adulthood. He deserved it, and Jonathan couldn’t be any happier to see his son growing beyond adolescence, becoming a fine strong man and a loving husband and father to his family. 

And then, right when everything seemed to be at its peak, it all came crashing down far too quickly.

Jonathan wasn’t there on the day George died. He should have been, he’d been there for his son so many other times, and he knew George was in a potentially dangerous situation; he’d recently discovered one of his superior officers was none other than a zombie Dio had created years ago, and with little to no Hamon training or skills he had no chance at defeating him. 

But George was smart. He knew he had a family at home, and doing anything to provoke the lifeless creature spelled no good endings for him. So he’d decided to eavesdrop in, and send any information back to the Speedwagon Foundation so they could hopefully take care of it. So Jonathan had dismissed the threat - the sheer possibility - that his son may die at the hands of Dio’s posthumous minion, and he’d stayed in the spirit world for an idle tea time chat with Zeppeli and Dire.

It started with a sinking feeling of anxiety, like he knew something was wrong, somewhere, but he couldn’t remember what. That feeling soon began to boil, with hot steam rising from Jonathan’s stomach and into his chest and head, and bringing an irritating sting of pain along with it. He’d held an arm to his stomach, groaning, wondering if it was possible for spirits to get sick, when he noticed the dual expressions of shock on both Zeppeli and Dire’s faces. 

And then he saw the long string tied around his heart, writhing about in front of his face as it slowly began to crack and shatter. 

There was no sound. 

Jonathan reached for the string, but it passed through his fingertips. It continued to disintegrate; large chunks breaking off into smaller fragments, shrinking in size until they were nothing but dust, blown away by some non-existent wind in the air around him.

For a moment, Jonathan stared ahead blankly, trying to piece together what had just happened as if he were rebuilding the rope itself. It didn’t take long for him to reach the horrific conclusion.

George was dead.

George Joestar the second, thirty-two years old, Jonathan and Erina’s only child, had died. Died far, far too soon. 

Zeppeli was saying something, but Jonathan couldn’t register the sound as any meaningful noise. All he could hear was a dull ringing in his ears, the white static of noise filling the void where the pounding metronome of a heartbeat should be. 

His son was dead.

His son was here. 

Jonathan started running.

He wasn’t even aware he was doing it at first. One second he was sitting down, the next he was sprinting through thick fog, calling his son’s name, as if maybe, just maybe, if he could find his son it would fix everything. If he could find George and grab him firmly by the shoulders, tell him it wasn’t his time, that he had to get back home because he had a life to live and he shouldn’t be here it’s not supposed to be like this please George it’s too soon you need to go back-

“George!” 

Were Jonathan still alive, his voice would have been worn and torn to ribbons, what with how badly he was straining it. But the dead could do no such thing, and he could scream like this forever, running onwards until he finally found his son. 

“George!”

“George!”

“George Joestar!”

“Yeah?”

Jonathan stopped running. 

There, a few feet away from him, was a man with his face, his broad shoulders, his bright blue eyes. George Joestar. His son. His son.

Time was standing still. 

Jonathan felt like he couldn’t move.

Every ounce of his energy was poured into keeping him upright, because even if he wanted nothing more than to run right into George’s arms and embrace him, tell him everything would be okay, Jonathan wasn’t sure he could walk more than two steps forward without his legs collapsing beneath the oppressive weight that seemed to overtake his entire being in this moment.

Meanwhile, George was taking in his surroundings, scratching his neck, a small frown on his lips. “...sorry if this seems like an odd question, young man, but where are we exactly. Last I remember I was off to...uh, to speak with Sergent Gernhard in his private quarters, and then…” He grimaced, clutching his throat as if he were about to vomit. “I guess that part must have been a dream then, because...well, it didn’t exactly end well. I think...I think he ate me.” At that, he laughed. “I suppose I’m just real nervous, eh?”

Jonathan didn’t laugh. His face only paled in horror at what his son had said, and realizing just how peaceful his own death had been in comparison to being eaten alive by a zombie. 

“Anyways, if you could just point me in the direction of the Royal Air Force base that would be-” George cut himself off suddenly. He squinted, gaze fixed on Jonathan. “Wait a second...have I seen you before, somewhere? Yeah, that’s right, you’re-” Something caught in his throat, and he stared ahead with glassy eyes, lips parted, quivering ever so slightly. He fumbled for his uniform’s breast pocket, retrieving a tattered old photograph and holding it up, photo side facing him as his gaze darted back and forth between the man in front of him and whatever was in the image. (It was a photograph of Jonathan and Erina, taken the day of their wedding. Jonathan had seen his son stare at it late at night during the war, when things looked tough and spirits were low.) 

Slight tremors vibrated the old photo, vibrating from George’s hand, from his arm, from his whole form. His face was etched with confusion, with fear, with denial, and it was all too much for Jonathan to witness.  

“Are you...by any chance...related to a man named Jonathan Jo-”

Jonathan didn’t wait for his son to finish. He half-ran half-leapt across the gap separating father from son and tightly embraced George. It was real, a real hug, not just the illusion of one. He could feel the muscles beneath his son’s navy blue uniform and the soft brown hair brushing against his head. On the one hand, it was a comfort to finally be able to cradle his son in his arms and actually feel something other than air, but on the other, it only made the situation more and more painfully clear, and it hurt. 

“Is it...it’s you, isn’t it?” George asked softly. “You’re him. You’re Jonathan Joestar.”

“Yes, George, it’s me.”

“Then that must mean...I’m…”

“...Yes. You’re...not alive...anymore.” Jonathan winced, trying to avoid the word as much as possible. His grip tightened, and he clung to to boy’s uniform. George shouldn’t be here. He should be out there in the real world with his wife and son, living the life Jonathan could only watch from afar. He should be up in the skies, flying high above the mountains and valleys below. He should be anywhere else but here.

Silence hung between the two for the longest time, thick and painful, and the only thing that broke it was the choked sob in George’s throat that made Jonathan’s heart ache like it never had before. Slowly, another pair of arms - George’s arms - wove around his father’s back, clinging almost as tightly as Jonathan was.

“I’m so glad I can finally meet you.” He said, voice breathy and shaky, but still full of light. “Mother and Speedwagon always talked about you, how you sacrificed your life to save mother and Elizabeth all those years ago. You were a hero to me.”

The words echoed in Jonathan’s mind. He wished more than ever that spirits to cry, because he couldn’t take holding these raw emotions of love and grief in his heart any longer. “I’ve known you for a long time. I watched you grow up, George. You have no idea just how proud of you I am. I...I only wish you could have lived a little longer. That you didn’t have to come here like this.”

George laughed, shaking his head, the strong movement unable to jostle Jonathan’s desperate hold on him. “Don’t worry about it, dad. Everything’s gonna be just fine now.”

Everything was. Everything was fine now, in a way. After more than thirty years, Jonathan was finally able to truly hold his son in his arms. He pulled George in closer, for fear he might disappear again, and let the warmth of the moment linger on as long as he could let it.

Chapter Text

The door was opened an inch

Then flew a mile wide open

The clouds danced on my skin

Oh, what could I do except follow the fog within

The years passed on.

Jonathan spent much of his time with George, now that they were finally reunited. They would wander around the spirit world together, visiting friends of George who died during the great war, Jonathan introducing his son to his grandparents and Zeppeli, or just walking on aimlessly talking about a number of things - Jonathan’s past, moments in George’s life the former had missed out on, and, most often, the life of Joseph Joestar. 

George visited his son often, returning with thousands of stories to share with his father. Sometimes they were exciting stories of Joseph’s proficiency with Hamon despite his young age and no real training. Other times, they were long frustrated rants about his impulsive and often violent behavior when confronted by someone. 

“I was never like that when I was his age.” George muttered, rubbing his temples, elbows resting on the table he and Jonathan sat at. 

Jonathan laughed. “I’m sure it’s just a phase. He’s quite young now, and he’ll grow out of it eventually.”

(He never really did.)

As the years went on, more and more spirits joined them in their strange yet peaceful afterlife. Zeppeli’s son and grandson, Mario and Caesar, joined them a few years apart from one another. Caesar had apparently been training alongside Joseph for the past month or so, and joined Jonathan and George in their Joseph-based rants, usually adding extra context to many of George’s already expansive stories, as well as gawking in utter disbelief at the new ones that happened after his death.

“He crashed the plane into the side of a volcano.”

“And survived?! Goodness...”

“ Mamma Mia …I can never tell if JoJo is a tactical genius or an incredibly lucky idiot...”

Joseph’s fight against the pillar men ended with victory in the end, much to everyone’s relief. He’d managed to lose an arm in the process, but modern technology was advanced enough to create a robotic replacement. He moved to America with his mother and his wife Suzi Q where he started a family of his own, raising his young daughter Holy in the city of New York. 

In 1950, Erina passed away peacefully in her home, surrounded by her living friends and family members. When she arrived in the afterlife, she was greeted by her husband and son, as well as a couple dozen friendly faces she’d only seen in passing long, long ago. 

Jonathan was truly happy to see her again. She hadn’t died much too early on, like so many members of the Joestar and Zeppeli families had. She had lived old enough to truly watch her family grow with her. Even if her death probably left many of their living descendants heartbroken, it was a joyful day for Jonathan and George, their tousled and shattered family finally united.

A few years later, Speedwagon would join them as well, greeted with his own emotional reunion. A decade or so after that, Elizabeth arrived, and almost immediately ran into her husband’s arms, refusing to let go for quite some time.

After that, things stayed peaceful for the Joestars. George and Elizabeth visited their son, though as time went on and Joseph became a much older man these trips happened less and less. They felt it best to leave the living world be unless Joseph happened to be visiting his daughter Holy in her new home in Japan. 

The rest of the family lived on, so to speak. Jonathan took the time to get to know some of the people whose connection to his bloodline was small yet impactful. He met Elizabeth’s biological parents, who thanked him and Erina for saving their daughter’s life. He spoke with a much older Poco, who talked at length about how their brief time together had changed his life for the better, helping him gain self-confidence and became a stronger, more confident person as a result. He even found the Nazi soldier he’d been told Joseph briefly fought alongside - one Rudol Von Stroheim - and discovered that in spite his loathsome beliefs and overwhelming arrogance, the man spoke very highly of Jonathan’s grandson and even went as far as to offer his gratitude to the entire Joestar bloodline for their inate fighting spirit that had passed on to Joseph and helped them defeat the piller men.

Jonathan searched for Dio again, the first time he’d done so in a long while, and again he found nothing. But he tried not to mind it. Wherever Dio was, he was most likely in no mood to make small talk with the brother he’d killed years ago, and Jonathan could do nothing about it. 

So the years continued, flying by so fast it seemed a decade could go by in an instant. Occasionally Jonathan and his family would hear snippets of their descendants on Earth.

Sometimes it was good, like the birth of Holy’s son, Jotaro Kujo. He bore many physical differences from the rest of the Joestar bloodline, being the first in the family to be of a mixed ethnicity, but his eyes shone with the same bright green hue as his mother and grandfather, and the signature star birthmark was present on his shoulder just as it was for everyone else in the family. Much to the surprise of Elizabeth and George, it seemed as though Jotaro could see spirits to an extent. He’d noticed Elizabeth’s long waterfall of brown hair and attempted to grab it with his tiny fist. It was a little off-putting at first, but after asking around some fellow spirits, they learned it wasn’t out of the ordinary. Uncommon, yes, but a living person catching glimpses of the dead wasn’t incredibly rare. Jotaro had been born one of those lucky few.

Other times, the news brought back was much more upsetting, such as the night Elizabeth came back fuming with rage after Joseph cheated on his wife with a young Japanese woman. It caused a sickening ripple of disappointment and disgust within the family (as well as Caesar, who looked like he wanted to fly back down to Earth and strangle Joseph for what he’d done), leaving everyone pretty low in spirits for several days. But time passed and the initial shock settled, everything returned to normal, and everyone seemed to silently agree that they wouldn’t let the event cut Joseph out of the family forever.

But other than that, there were rarely any earth-shattering announcements from the living world. No vampires or pillar men remained alive, all permanently taken care of courtesy of the Joestar bloodline. No one had died too soon, and hopefully it would stay that way. 

So Jonathan’s “life” went on. He had friends and family to talk to when he wanted, and an infinite array of things to do that were merely a thought away. Admittedly, it could get quite boring at times, sinking into the complacency of things, but there was no pain, no fear, only the warmth of love between him and his family. And it stayed that way for many, many years. Simple, yet happy, and Jonathan was okay with that.

He just wished things would get a bit more interesting...

It had started so suddenly one day, the faint yet clear sensation that something was very, very wrong. Jonathan didn’t know what or who caused it, but it was a constant burning anxiety burrowed deep in his chest and stomach, as if he could sense that some unseen danger was approaching, slowly, carefully, yet still known. 

Sometimes, it was only a soft, almost dormant dread, its intensity repressed into his gut. This feeling felt much more like a dim apprehension, much calmer than the alternative, but it weighed him down as though he were sleepwalking through an ocean. His muscles felt so heavy, so tired, and it was a struggle to even move most of the time. 

But other times is was loud and panicked. His thoughts were scattered, frantic, as if a thousand alarm bells were ringing out, shrill chimes grating against his head. It often made him nauseous, though it was impossible for anything to come up. It was as if every fiber of his body was screaming for help, as if it were fighting a long uphill battle against an enemy that was slowly but surely winning. Jonathan quickly learned that whenever this state started he needed to summon a chair, sit down, and wait it out. 

He had no idea what caused it, and that only made the anxiety worse. No one else seemed to know either. Speedwagon and Zeppeli had asked around, but nothing turned up. It was completely new and unsettling to everyone, not just the Joestars, and all they could do was hope it would end soon.

But it continued for a week 

And then a week became a month,

Then six months,

Which became a year,

Before he knew it, two years had passed with little to no change. The sharp and frenzied pain from fear, the suffocating muffled dread and slow movements - for a long time, it seemed as though it might never stop. 

Then one day, another strange symptom befell Jonathan’s body. 

Namely, another golden string, tightly wrapped around his heart.

Chapter Text

They say I must be one of the wonders

Of God's own creation

And as far as they can see they can offer

No explanation

Jonathan was taking a walk with Erina and Speedwagon the day the rope first appeared. He'd been feeling better than usual that day, able to stand up and move around a bit. He’d gotten used to the pain, though that did little to alleviate it. 

Erina had noticed it at first, stopping suddenly and staring off into the distance.

“What is it, Erina?” He asked.

“There’s something glowing over there. Look:” She pointed at the far away point she was so focused on. 

Both Jonathan and Speedwagon turned to look. Squinting, they could just make out the orange ribbon of light, twirling and twisting about in the fog, leaving its glowing trail behind it like a scarlet paintbrush on a grey canvas. 

“It looks like one of those strings to the living world.” Speedwagon held to the tip of his cap between his fingers, his brow furrowing. “...and it looks like it’s coming right for us.”

Warmth began spilling into Jonathan’s heart, and he pressed his palm to his chest in surprise. 

“JoJo! Are you alright?” Erina grabbed onto his arm with one hand, the other at his back to prop him up with Speedwagon at the other side. “Maybe we should head back…”

“N-No...it’s not that.” Jonathan shook his head, shaking off the sudden heat, hand hovering palm-up in front of him. “I just felt something...something odd.” It had felt familiar, but how and why he wasn’t quite sure.

“Look out, JoJo!” Speedwagon suddenly leapt in front of him, and it was only then that Jonathan realized the string was headed directly at him. It ignored the presence of the other man, passing straight through him as though he weren’t there at all, and began coiling around Jonathan until finally pulling the woven strands tightly into his body, around his heart. 

The silence of shock was deafening. Jonathan blinked several times, hands cautiously bending down to touch it, rubbing the tips of his fingernails against it just to make sure it was real. Speedwagon stood frozen for a moment until he suddenly realized he was standing directly inside the rope and jumped back to the side. His eyes were wide, mouth hanging open, hand pressed against his forehead and knocking his hat back. 

Erina’s hands were over her mouth, gaze fixed on the rope, occasionally flickering back up to Jonathan, eyes filled with confusion and a small fragment of hurt and denial. It took a moment for Jonathan to realize what she must be thinking; the Joseph situation had happened not too long ago, only a few years prior, and surely hearing about something like that might make one’s head buzz with worries. 

Of course, there was no way something like that was possible - they all seemed to know that, it was an unspoken truth. Jonathan had been dead for so long - nearly a century - and he had never loved any woman more than he loved Erina. 

“It’s impossible …” Speedwagon hoarsely whispered. 

And yet it was real. Jonathan could feel the gentle human-like warmness and surge of life as he held it in his hand. It tugged at his heart, like it had before, all those years ago, as if it were begging him to follow where it led. 

“JoJo,” Erina’s delicate hand rested on his shoulder. He turned to look at her, staring into her green eyes now shining bright with kind fervor. “I think you should follow it.”

Heat radiated from the rope as if in response. Jonathan felt it in his chest, calm and relaxing. The endless loop of dread and fear that had burdened him for so long felt like nothing more than an irritating pinprick now, and a relieved smile spread across his lips.

“Alright.” He nodded, leaning in to give Erina a kiss before he left. “I’ll be back home soon. Whoever this child is, I’ll tell you all about them.”

Erina grinned, nodding. Speedwagon, who had stepped away to give the couple a bit of space, folded his arms and gave Jonathan a smile of his own. “We’ll let everyone else know, while you’re gone.”

“Thank you.” Jonathan said. He turned back to the string, staring into the sea of clouds before him, and took a step forward.

The journey was just as long as Jonathan remembered it, the rope snaking through the slowly-darkening void. But he had grown used to it, and he carried on, as the faint rays of light gradually filling the space around him.

He took another step forward, and entered a hospital, just like on his first visit. Harsh lamps cast angry white glares downward, far brighter than any sort of lamp Jonathan had seen in life, and he had to shield it with one hand while squinting as his eyes began to adjust. 

A few doctors were moving back and forth around the crowded room, speaking in a language Jonathan could not recognize. There was a faint but constant beep repeating, and he wondered if it was coming from one of the many strange machines. Everything was much noisier than it had been last time, much more busy.

In the center of the room was a woman - the mother - lying on a hospital bed. Her long black hair was drenched in sweat, her head rolled back against her pillow in exhaustion. It took a moment for Jonathan to realize that she wasn’t European like him. She was Asian, by the looks of it, though what specific country she was from he did not know.

A nurse approached her bed with a soft bundle of white blankets cradled in his arms - the baby, Jonathan realized. Maybe his baby, somehow, in some way that he still didn’t know. Unless this was all just a fluke and the string had been given to the wrong father, but that answer didn’t feel right. 

Now was no time to think about that. Jonathan took a deep breath, and stepped towards the nurse. He looked down at the baby, being handed off to the young woman on the bed. 

Suddenly, the child was jerked away. The woman was shouting angrily, making big motions with her hands is if pushing something. The nurse pulled the baby away, out of Jonathan’s view, exchanging a few more words before turning away and walking out of the room.

Jonathan didn’t hesitate to follow him, passing through the wall and into the hallway. He stood just behind the nurse, gazing over his shoulder, hoping to get a good look. He could see dark hair peeking out beneath a soft hat, could hear loud crying and wailing, could see the eyes squeezed so tightly shut. 

The nurse made a sharp turn into a separate room. There were more infants in here, all resting inside baby bassinets, each swaddled in either a pink or blue blanket. Jonathan walked alongside the nurse as he stopped in front of one of the empty bassinets, resting the baby inside it, then turning around to grab something from a nearby shelf. All the while, the child continued to wail and howl, tiny arms breaking free of the blanket and waving about, with even tinier fingers curled into fists.

A pang of sorrow shot through Jonathan’s heart, and he wished desperately, oh so desperately , that he could calm this little newborn child down as he had seen Erina do with George many, many times. 

Come to think of it, why wasn’t the baby’s mother here right now? The nurse had seemingly given her the opportunity earlier, but she had been so angry about it. How could a mother do that? Just let her own child be taken care of by strangers, rather than in the comfort of her own ar-

Jonathan stopped.

His eyes locked on the baby’s left shoulder, where the violet five-pointed star lay.

A mark he had seen so many times before - on his father, on himself, on his son, and on his grandson. 

This was proof then. This infant was a Joestar, and somehow he or she was directly related to Jonathan. 

The nurse returned then, with a fluffy blue blanket in his arms. He unwrapped the baby and re-swaddled it in the soft fabric, all the while gently murmuring words to calm the crying child, eventually soothing the cries to silence. He then pulled a paper card from his pocket, sliding it into a plastic sleeve on the bassinet, then patting the baby on the head and leaving the room.

Jonathan knelt down next to the bassinet’s walls to get a better look a the card. A nameplate, from the looks of it. It was all in foreign characters that he couldn’t understand, but based on the pale blue coloring around the edges it probably indicated that this child was a boy. He traced his fingers over the first row of characters, a place where he figured the name might be, and tried to memorize them.

汐華 初流乃 . 

He had no idea what they meant, nor did he have any idea how to pronounce them, but he could always look that up once he got back. Jonathan began drawing the characters on his palm over and over again in hopes to memorize them.

汐...華...初...流...乃...

汐...華...初...流...乃...

汐...華...

There was a howl from the bassinet. The baby boy was beginning to cry again, this time restricted in movement by his cocooned blanket. So he laid in place inside his bed as he belted out loud, fretful, scared wails and shrieks at the top of his teeny lungs. The poor boy probably missed his mother, separated from her womb and left all alone in a cold and unfamiliar place with strangers and bright lights. 

He needed some comfort. Jonathan couldn’t exactly do much, but he could, at least, be present. He bent over the sobbing infant, calmly pressing a hand against the boy’s head and rubbing it back and forth. “Shhh shhhh.” He soothed, smiling downwards. “It’s alright.”

In his mind, Jonathan expected the boy to continue fussing uninterrupted until, perhaps, another nurse came in to help him. 

But instead, the boy stopped and opened his eyes, face scrunching up as he squinted up at the stranger at his side.

Jonathan flinched, reeling his hand back just a bit. His eyes and the child’s eyes were locked.

The boy was staring at him.

This boy could see him.

Jonathan could feel the smile on his face growing wider. He leaned in a little closer to the baby’s face. “Hello there.” He waved at the boy, laughing a little. “Don’t be scared. I’m just here to help you.”

The baby was silent for a moment, staring up with wide confused eyes, and Jonathan realized they were his eyes. The deep color of aquamarine, rounded and child-like; although, this boy’s eyes were alight with an unusual golden sparkle.

“I’m sorry your mother can’t be here with you. She's probably very tired from all the hard work she put in, bringing you into this new world.” Jonathan continued, placing his hand back on the boy’s head, unsure if the touch could really be felt. “But don’t worry. I'll stay here with you until she’s ready."

A faint whimper started rising in the baby’s throat, and he squirmed, but Jonathan gently hushed him again. He started singing a lullaby, the same type he’d sung to George; different melodies stitched together in an odd harmony. The boy’s crying stopped again, and slowly, his eyelids began drooping, heavy and tired, until he was asleep with Jonathan still standing over him, an invisible guardian to a frightened and lonely little newborn.

Chapter Text

But even though I can't push past this mental trap no matter what I try

A voice inside me beckons me to try again

Haruno Shiobana.

That was the boy’s name. The boy who was maybe Jonathan’s son, despite how impossible it seemed, despite making no sense whatsoever. But he had the birthmark, and the eyes, so it was hard to deny any of it. 

The other Joestars and Zeppelis were equal parts perplexed and positively ecstatic to hear news of a new Joestar child. Initially, the idea was posed that perhaps it was the same woman Joseph had an affair with, and some strange mix up had placed Jonathan as the father. But the last names didn’t match up - that woman had the last name Higashikata, but this new woman was a Shiobana - and the affair had been years ago now. Unless they had met again (which they hadn’t) there was no way Haruno was Joseph’s illegitimate child. 

Jonathan had asked around for answers, trying to find other spirits who might know something about Ms. Shiobana. The closest thing he found to a lead were her parents, an older Japanese couple who spoke in very broken English. But what they had said about their daughter was far from glowing praise. She was careless and rude, preferring to go out clubbing with friends and hooking up with different men, their relationships usually ending with irrational anger.

As a gentleman, Jonathan tried to be respectful towards Ms. Shiobana. But it became clear all too soon that she was not a good mother for Haruno. She worked during the day, so she left her son in the care of a local daycare facility until she came to pick him up. The workers there were the closest thing to a caring mother than Haruno had ever known.  At night, she continued her habit of staying out late in bars. She’d leave as soon as her son was asleep - her son who was barely even a year old, mind you - turning out all the lights and locking all the doors, disappearing until she drunkenly stumbled back home in the early hours of the morning. 

Often, Haruno would wake up while she was gone, lying wide awake in the darkness, alone and afraid. At first, he had cried, and Jonathan had done what little he could to comfort him. He had hoped Haruno’s connection to spirits would help in some way, but it seemed like that was very limited. Haruno could only sometimes see him, for brief periods of time, and it seemed to only grow shorter and shorter as he grew older. 

It didn’t stop Jonathan from spending every night at the Haruno’s side, running fingers through the child’s thick black hair and humming songs that went unheard, as Haruno trembled in fear in his crib. (He had stopped crying so long ago, learning that his mother would not be there to answer, and the times when she was there she only gave him angry shouts and further isolation).

When Jonathan told Erina about all this, she had become absolutely livid . Hands balled into fists, she attempted to follow Jonathan’s string back to the living world so she could smack Ms. Shiobana upside the head. But the string slipped through her fingers as it always did, and she was left pacing back and forth angrily ranting about how motherhood was the most difficult yet rewarding experience a woman could ever accomplish, and if Ms. Shiobana didn’t want to care for a child she shouldn’t have been sleeping around in the first place …then immediately apologizing for saying such an unladylike thing.

Admittedly, Jonathan couldn’t blame her for that. Every time he visited Haruno, he wished the boy had been born under better circumstances. Maybe somewhere, in some other life, he was a bright happy child with a loving mother and father to watch over him. And maybe, in that life, his mother and father were Jonathan and Erina.

But maybe things would get better over time. When Haruno got older, he’d be able to go to school and make friends. Friends that would be close companions to him for life. Friends that weren’t really a replacement for a parent, but would still provide support when things got tough.

It was the thought Jonathan turned to the most, as he sat beside little Haruno during the long and dreary nights; the fantasy that kept him hopeful for the future. He clung to the thought so tightly, because he truly wanted Haruno to have a happy life just like George did. A happy, long life, like Erina. He was a bright little boy, exceptionally smart for his age. He loved animals and nature the most - once, his mother had accidentally left the TV on before heading out, and Haruno had stayed awake for hours, entranced by a late-night nature documentary about elephants.

He deserved to live a good life. He deserved a loving family to watch over him. Hopefully, Haruno would find it, some day. 

Jonathan finally learned the truth of Haruno’s father two years later, along with the rest of the Joestar family, along with a few of the Zeppeli’s and Speedwagon. George and Elizabeth had been the ones to solve the little mystery, and they thought it was best if everyone was present when they made the announcement. 

“So then,” Jonathan asked eagerly, “how did you come to find all this out?”

“Ah, right!” George smiled, a bit of nervousness twitched at his lips. “It was through Joseph’s Stand.”

Everyone at the table exchanged confused looks. 

“JoJo, dear,” Elizabeth whispered to her husband, “they don’t know what a Stand is.”

George laughed sheepishly. “Of course. I guess I should explain. See, Stands are sort of like-”

(He proceeded to ramble on about how Stands were like Hamon but also completely different from Hamon, and how they were a physical manifestation of the fighting spirit or the person’s mental strength or something like that. Eventually he realized it was only making things more complicated and ended with “Stands are special superpowers only people with other Stands can see.”)

“Joseph has one called Hermit Purple.” He continued. “It allows him to use spirit photography to find someone or something he is looking for. In this case, he used it to find Jonathan’s body, and...well…”

Jonathan’s brow furrowed. Why would Joseph want to find his grandfather’s body? It was at the bottom of the ocean in the ruins of a ship. Nothing but bones weathered away in the sand. 

George rubbed the back of his neck, face a worrying pallid shade. “It’s...well...um, would you mind telling him, Lisa Lisa?”

Elizabeth sighed, staring down at her hands for a moment before making direct eye contact with Jonathan. “When Dio Brando killed you aboard that ship one hundred years ago, he was attempting to steal your body. We always thought he was unsuccessful and died along with you that night...but recently we discovered this:”

It wasn’t difficult for Jonathan to guess what she was about to show him. A deep pit began forming in his stomach as she waved her hands about in the fog, materializing a square piece of paper - a photograph, one of the newer and fancier kinds with clearer images than the kind from Jonathan’s day. She paused, closed her eyes, and took a long drag from her cigarette before she handed it to him from across the table. Jonathan stared into the black box framed in white, praying it wouldn’t be what he thought it was, because if it was then-

There stood Dio Brando, posing for the image with a hostile glare and poised fingers. At the base of his neck, where the head connected to the body, was a long jagged scar.

A whirlpool of emotions swarmed Jonathan’s head.

First was shock. No one had seen Dio after his apparent death, and they had mostly assumed he had gone to some sort of eternal punishment. But he had survived. He had done what he came on that boat to do in the first place, and now he was out there, free to do whatever he wanted. 

Then there was anger. That was his body. Dio stole his body! In fact, Dio was probably using his body right now to do some unspeakably horrible thing - maim, kill, torture; all to some innocent soul who didnt deserve it. That was probably the reason behind his sickness, too,  still wracking his body to this day, though not in the living world, and he was much more used to it. Some part of Jonathan’s body, still attached to his spirit, was crying out for help as it was alive again, forced into subservience to all the ideals he’d adamantly fought against in life, worn like a costume in some cruel play. The mere thought of all the blood spilt with Jonathan’s own hands as if he were a marionette puppet for his brother’s own amusement was a horrific thought that made his fear turn to fury.

But then sorrow promptly took hold. His final sacrifice, his last ditch attempt to take down Dio, holding him to his chest as flames engulfed them...it had failed . Jonathan had died for nothing. He had left his wife and son far too soon, but he always told himself it had been for the greater good, and if he hadn’t they likely all would have died. Maybe that was still true, in a way, but in the end Jonathan’s efforts had only kept Dio hidden, not eliminated completely, and suddenly his great sacrifice felt useless and foolish.

“Jonathan…” 

Erina’s fingers entwined with his. Her eyes soft, lip twitching. She squeezed his hand, wrapping her other arm around his back and rubbing it softly. It wasn’t enough to fully calm Jonathan - nothing would be, not for a while - but it was a little comforting.

Around the table, varied angry reactions played out. Speedwagon slammed his fist against the table, jaw trembling. Jonathan’s mother and father exchanged a look of grief, and they both reached out to place a hand on their son’s shoulder. George and Elizabeth, despite knowing beforehand, were still fighting anger for the sake of composure. George’s eyes squeezed shut and his head bowed, reaching for Elizabeth’s hand under the table, while she looked away, the cigarette in her mouth burning to ashes that fell silently to the ground before vanishing altogether. Across from them, the Zeppelis were frozen in shock. William put his elbows on the table, staring into the last remnants of wine at the bottom of his glass. Mario merely stared at the photograph, eyes wide and mouth hanging open just slightly. Caesar looked the most visibly angry, furiously leaping to his feet as if about to shout, only for William to push his grandson’s arm down and flashing a quick stern look. The young Italian stopped, and he stood with fists at his sides, fingernails digging into his palms.

Jonathan felt the table jostle a bit - he hadn't realized until now just how much his body had sunk down into the table, elbows simultaneously keeping him from collapsing to the ground and nearly snapping the table in two. His entire body was leaning in to stare at the photograph in his hands with slightly shaking fingers.

George was the first to speak. "So then, that means...Haruno is...well…I’m sure you can figure that part out"

Haruno. Jonathan had almost forgotten that was the reason behind this meeting. His eyes focused on the star birthmark resting on Dio's back - what had once been Jonathan's back. That meant Haruno was…

Dio's son.

Haruno was Dio's son, not Jonathan's. 

...was he?

Over the past two years, Jonathan had grown into something of a fatherly role for the little boy. Not quite a father, he supposed; he couldn't raise Haruno in his current state. He was more of a guardian, really. A guardian who couldn't do much of anything to protect. A guardian who was no more than a faint breeze in the air. 

Was guardian really a fitting title for him?

Whatever he was, he wasn't a proper father. Even though he wanted to be so, so badly. He wanted to cradle Haruno in his arms and tell him how much he was loved. He wanted to guard him, to run away someplace safe and warm with a truly loving family. He wanted to do so many things, and yet he couldn’t. He could only watch Haruno grow up, scared and alone. 

Even so, Dio wasn’t much of a father either, impregnating Ms. Shiobana and tossing her aside without another thought. Jonathan could almost feel a bit of sympathy for the woman. Not much, of course - it was hard to forgive such cold behavior towards her own child. But he could at least understand why she might act so heartless - saddled with a son, the father leaving her behind with no interest in helping raise the poor boy, forced into the responsibilities of motherhood she clearly never wanted. 

Did Dio truly count as Haruno’s father, when he himself was never even remotely present or even aware of his son’s life?

Did that make Jonathan the father, then? 

What exactly separated a guardian from a father?

Did the genetics matter, or was it in intent?

Where was the line drawn?

He could ask his own father. He could ask either of the older Zeppelis. He could ask George. Jonathan could even ask himself , he realized. But none of them had been in a situation like this, where two men could fill the role so easily.

So Jonathan sat at the table, long after the others left, leaving him alone to process it all on his own, thinking the questions over.

Haruno’s father…

Dio Brando or Jonathan Joestar. 

Who could say the answer, really.

Maybe Jonathan would never know what he was to this boy.

But damn him if wasn’t going to try and find out. 

Chapter Text

But as clouds will do, they'll rain down

First gently and sweetly

Until they silence me

With a burst of thunder and lightning

And helpless landlocked screaming

I know God must be agreeing

It's the worst part of watching

For Haruno’s fourth birthday, he got two presents: a new home in Italy, and a stepfather.

Jonathan watched the young boy walk down the cobbled streets of Napoli, a few paces behind his mother and new stepfather. He was still scared, still lonely, but Jonathan hoped the new country would change that. After all, Haruno was now old enough to attend school. He could make some friends there. 

Plus there was his new stepfather. Jonathan hadn’t seen much of the man, and while he wasn’t exactly what he’d hoped Haruno’s new father might be, he would still hopefully be more present than his mother.

Of course, Jonathan would still be there. He’d feel bad if he just abandoned Haruno, even if he had new family and new possibilities awaiting him. But he’d come less and less often. As long as Haruno had someone to take care of him, Jonathan wouldn’t be needed. But whenever he was alone, Jonathan would be right beside him, as he had done for the first four years. It would be easier now, as the overwhelming full-body sickness from dread he’d been experiencing these past few years had finally gone away. (Did that mean Dio was dead? That sounded likely, but he hadn’t had the chance to check.)

He smiled, watching as Haruno joined his mother and stepfather for a photo together on the riverbank, all smiles except for Haruno, who stared ahead with his steely blue eyes. Jonathan frowned a little, wishing the little boy could be a bit more cheerful. But that would take time, of course. For now, he watched as Haruno’s stepfather clapped his hand on his stepson’s head and ruffled his dark hair (Jonathan had wished to do just that for so long…) as they walked away, blue skies and sunshine smiling down upon them. 

That happy moment wouldn’t last long. 

“Stupid brat!”

Haruno’s stepfather held a belt high above his head, poised to strike. A few feet in front of him stood the boy in question, staring ahead and trying his best to keep a brave face as the man shouted down at him.

Between the two stood Jonathan, arms stretched out to his sides in an attempt to shield little Haruno.

“Why do you stare at me like that, huh?” The stepfather sneered. He phased through Jonathan’s ghostly form, walking until he stood directly over the little boy. “You’re always trying to read my like it’s a damn book!”

Haruno’s lip began twitching. “N-No. I wasn’t-”

The belt came down, smacking against his cheek. Haruno let out a yelp, stumbling backwards from the blow. 

Jonathan knelt down at the boy’s side immediately. He wrapped one arm around Haruno’s shoulder and pressed a hand to his cheek. It was definitely going to bruise. It wasn’t the first mark Haruno had gotten at his stepfather’s hands. Older bruises, already purple and black, were scattered on the rest of his body. They were mostly on his arms, legs, and torso; places where they would be easily hidden by clothing. 

Even Jonathan - a man raised in an era when a firm whip with a switch was a widely accepted punishment for small children - could understand how downright cruel this was.

The man raised the belt again, and Jonathan instinctively reached to block it. It passed through his arm like it was nothing - because it was nothing - and landed on Haruno again. This time it hit his shoulder, right where the star birthmark was. That spot was a common target by his stepfather, as the mark already had a bruise-like hue. It would easily be looked-over by his mother or anyone else. 

Haruno reacted less severely, already anticipating the blow. He clutched his shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to shrink away. 

Jonathan swung a fist at the man’s face. He tried to push him back, knock him over - anything to stop him - but not a single one connected. 

The belt hit again, and again, and again. Haruno sat there, trying and failing to block each blow with his tiny hands. Jonathan, unable to do anything substantial to help, tightly hugged the scared boy as best a spirit could, hoping it would all be over soon.

“Hey, freak! What are you doing over here?”

A trio of boys stood in front of Haruno as he swayed back and forth on the swingset, Jonathan at his side, as always. 

“Hey, didn’t you hear me? These are our swings, so get off!” One of the boys shouted. 

Haruno looked up at them, then bowed his head again, fingers tightening around the metal chains holding the swing up.  

Another boy sneered. “He probably can’t even understand us, can he? I mean, he’s not even Italian , right?”

“Yeah!” The third one folded his arms. “If he’s not Italian, then why’s he goin’ to our school?”

“Go back to Chinatown!”

“Get outta our school!”

“You freak!”

Jonathan rose to his feet. “That’s enough! You three are-”

But he was cut off by two of the boys shoving Haruno off the swing. Haruno tumbled, skidding across the concrete pavement like a battered old ragdoll. He didn’t look up or move, merely staring ahead as he lay motionless on the ground. Jonathan almost expected him to cry, but he didn’t. Haruno rarely, if ever, cried anymore. 

Jonathan glanced around the playground. Other children had noticed the three bullies, some of the recess monitors too, but they said nothing, quickly turning their heads as if they had never seen it. 

Even in a new country, with new friends, Haruno was alone.

Everything was wrong.

This was supposed to have been for the better, and yet somehow everything just became worse. 

Jonathan sat by Haruno’s bedside, resting his head against the frame in exhaustion. It wasn’t from physical exertion, but mental fatigue. He’d started spending more and more time with Haruno, until he rarely went back to the spirit world at all. The last time he could recall being there was...two, maybe three months ago? People were probably worried about him. He had to go back soon, surely. 

But not yet. 

Haruno still needed him. 

He looked over at the little boy in question, who was cocooned tightly in a thin blanket, holding a photograph in his hands. The man in the photograph had blond hair, a muscular body, and a star on his shoulder. Jonathan didn’t need to see the caption written above it to know the man was Dio Brando, and from the neck down, him as well. Haruno’s mother had given the photo to him shortly after the wedding, telling him to hide it from his stepfather somewhere, and if he was caught with it he’d be in more trouble than he’d ever been in before. 

She never told him the significance behind the photograph. Jonathan wondered if Haruno had figured it out. 

“That’s Dio Brando.” He murmured to him in the darkness. “And me, I suppose. He’s- I’m- well, one of us is your father. To be honest, I’m not sure which one of us it is.”

Haruno didn’t respond - he never did, anymore, and it just made the whole situation hurt worse. He pressed his index finger against the birthmark in the photo, then tugged down the collar of his pajama shirt, pressing his palm against the matching one on his neck. 

He definitely knew. 

“I’m sure he’d love you.” Jonathan continued. “You’re such a smart little boy, just like him. I’m sure if he knew about you while he was alive...he would have taken you away from this awful place.”

(He hoped Dio would have been that caring. Oh, how he hoped.)

Haruno continued to stare into the photo for a while, then hid it beneath his pillow, laying down, eyes closed and his tiny arms hugged tightly around himself. He used to have a stuffed bear he slept with at night. ‘Dansu Kuma’, he named it. But his stepfather took it from him, a punishment for accidentally wetting the bed. The bear had been Haruno’s companion for almost his entire life, a more tactile guardian than Jonathan had ever been. Losing it only made the nights much more cold and frightening. 

It was the worst kind of torture, watching Haruno suffer like this, with no way to help him. He deserved happiness. He deserved love. Yet Jonathan wasn’t in the position to give it to him. It was worse than any pain he’d ever felt, cutting like knives in his skin.

And yet...he couldn’t leave.

Leaving would just make things worse. Going back to Erina and George, ignoring the problem, pretending that he had no reason to care for Haruno since he wasn’t quite his son...he’d be no better than the boy’s mother if he did that. 

So he would stay right here, right by Haruno’s side, until things got better. 

A shaky little sigh escaped Haruno’s throat, and he began to relax, drifting off into a deep sleep. Jonathan smiled at him, and gently planted a small kiss on the boy’s cheek.

“Goodnight, Haruno.”

Chapter Text

Don't talk of love

Well I've heard the word before

It's sleeping in my memory

I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died

If I never loved, I never would have cried

I am a rock, I am an island

Hell was very different than Dio imagined it to be.

His mother had spent every day of her pitiful life instilling him with a fear of the place. There would be fire and brimstone hailing from the skies, and its many occupants would be screaming to God for mercy, asking to be relieved their eternal torment. But there would be no answer to their cries. 

Heaven was the opposite - a place much desired, a paradise reserved for the so-called "good" people to live out their eternity in peace and happiness. Dio knew he could never match the strict and subjective criteria to get into such a place, so he sought to create his own heaven on Earth (and it still might be possible, if Pucci was able to get to the diary safely). So it was no surprise to him that, upon his death, he had wound up in hell. 

But rather than the treacherous place his mother had described to him all those years ago, hell was instead a desolate and empty place, with the only form of torture being a mysterious burning scarlet string tied around his chest, tightened around his heart in a vice-like grip. Dark fog swirled around him, thick and suffocating, trapping him in isolation.

He could still do some things. Objects he desired appeared as soon as the thought of them entered his head. It was within reason, of course - no weapons or poisons were available for his usage, not that there was anyone he could use it on, since he didn’t seem to be able to leave. 

Well, there was one other person, in a way. 

Dio had wondered, ever since he was first pierced by the arrow back in Cairo, if Stands could enter the afterlife with their users. The answer was, surprisingly, yes . The World had appeared just as it had in life, a voiceless golden ghost hovering at Dio’s side. The tool he planned to use to wipe out legions, to rule over lands, to rewrite humanity in his own image as he saw fit. But it had no purpose now. It couldn’t even utilize its ability to stop time anymore. Now it was left to float beside him, a weapon without a war. Utterly useless.

It was a suitable hell, Dio decided as he looked around the vast void of grey around him. Nothing to do but think about how useless his efforts had been in life; how no matter what he did, even after rejecting his own humanity and receiving strength far beyond an ordinary man, his immortality was temporary. He had gone from god-like being far above that of man, poised to reshape the Earth as he saw fit, and then those damned Joestars had knocked him down to his knees and forced him to stand alongside the disgustingly weak humans. It was humiliating, and it drove him mad . 

It didn’t take Dio long to realize that he’d be reduced to nothing if he kept on like this. His mind would diminish, depleting and receding until it could barely think at all. He needed to find something to keep himself sane, and luckily for him, it took the form of the red-hot string tied around his chest. 

It had to be a torture device of some kind. What else could it be? It pulsed and burned with heat as if it were alive, or at least controlled by a living thing. Surely there was some devil on the other end of it, an unseen tormenter cackling as it held the rope over molten fire like a blacksmith forging a sword.

Oh, but wouldn’t it be a surprise to that fiendish little imp if his victim soon became a very real threat? What if his tormentee walked along the rope used for his very punishment and use it to dispose of the foolish hellspawn? And what if he didn’t stop there; what if he continued onward throughout hell, putting these harbingers of false justice in their place beneath his foot, as he climbed the crimson steps of hell to Lucifer’s own throne, and take the old devil down himself? 

The thought was already reigniting the old flames of resolve and ambition Dio had once kept constantly burning in the back of his mind. The corners of his lips twitched into a smirk, and he took hold of the rope in both hands, letting the heat warm his cold lifeless hands as he took a step forward, following the red trail to his new goal.

It was a long walk. He crossed through the grey fog, watching as it slowly dissipated and revealed a black void. Perhaps it was a mind trick, a ploy to drive him back in fear. But Dio would not let such a cheap tactic keep him back. Nothing short of death had stopped him while he was alive, and without that obstacle to hold him back he would practically be undefeatable.  He was patient, and he would continue. 

Light began to fill his vision, bright and glorious. For a moment, Dio thought he might have reached the proverbial gates of heaven. But he took another step, and the light dimmed to a casual daylight glow catching on windowpanes and forming fragments of rainbows on wood flooring.  

The string vanished.

Well, this was progress, he supposed. Even if he couldn’t find the person controlling the string, he’d left the grey behind for...wherever this place was. A house, that much was clear. But when and where was still unknown. It looked like he was standing in a living room. Photographs of a small family sat on an ornate cabinet against the wall - father, mother, son. The room was tidy for the most part, minus small mud stains on the rug, footprints of a very small animal.

“ Moccioso! ”

The harsh grating voice came from around the corner, speaking in Italian, Dio realized. He knew many languages, and Italian was one he was nigh fluent in. He cautiously approached the corner and tilted his head around it. A large man with raised, calloused fists stood above a little boy - the same man and boy from the photographs, though neither looked as happy as their posed faces in the photo suggested. 

“I’ve told you time and time again not to let animals in the house, and yet you disobey me!” The man shouted down at the child. 

“I didn’t let him in…” The boy protested, voice meek and timid. “I-It just appeared while I was playing.”

The man scoffed. “Lying little brat. Do you really think I’ll believe a frog just appeared in here? Your mother and I paid good money for that rug, and now you’ve gone and ruined it!”

“I’m sorry…”

“Sorry isn’t good enough, you little shit!” 

The hand came down, followed by the unmistakable crack of an open palm against flesh.

Memories were resurfacing in Dio’s mind.

Memories of an old flat, falling apart at the seams, with grime and dust caking the windows - though it wasn’t as if the view outside was anything particularly interesting, nothing more than noisy cobbled streets and a long line of equally decrypt flats on the other side. Memories of sitting tall and straight in a kitchen chair, an emotionless mask on his face, waiting to get the nightly ritual over with.

“You think you’re better than me, don’tcha?”

Even if it was a hundred years ago, Dio swore he could smell the stench of his father’s alcohol-tainted breath against his face. 

“Think your old man’s a drunken bastard who’s never worked a day in his life, huh?”

“No sir.”

“Don’t you lie to me! I can see it in yer eyes. You hate me, the man who’s kept you alive all these years. The man who’s bailed your sorry ass out time and time again when the coppers’ drag ya in fer stealin’ and cheatin’. The man who coulda left you on the street to the dogs and yet he still has the heart to give you a bed. Is that the man you hate?”

“I don’t hate you, sir.”

“You liar!’

A beer bottle, thrown at Dio’s head in 1880, fell to the floor behind him and shattered on impact. 

A fist, swung at the little boy in the present, hit its intended mark and sent the child toppling to the floor. 

Dio scowled. He understood now. This was just another form of torment intended for him. Another reminder that he had once been a fragile and scared human along with all the others.

Part of him wanted to run towards this man, this human man beating his own son right in front of Dio as if he wanted to provoke the former-vampire in some way. He wanted to beat this man senseless, returning the favor he was bestowing the boy. But he fought back. Dio was not as impulsive as he once was, no longer easily blinded by his own pride, and he knew it would do nothing to stop the situation. Besides, that was what they wanted, right? If this was another punishment for him, then they’d want him to lash out in violence and rage. He refused to play into whatever twisted game the devil was playing with him. 

It was difficult to hold back, however. Each crack of flesh against flesh only resurrected darkened memories of fists and bottles and shouting, and Dio felt like he was twelve years old again; a scrawny, weak, useless boy, who stole and scrounged money to satiate his father’s wants, who sat in his room clutching an empty stomach and cursing himself, who one day decided enough was enough, and let his father beat him senseless for not buying more booze while he slipped the freshly bought poison into the man’s dinner.

But soon enough, a cheery female voice broke through the echoes of haunted memories, and the man - the man in the present, not the man from Dio’s memories - lowered his fists and jauntily walked down the hallway, calling out to the woman with a much lighter tone. “I didn’t think you would be back this early, darling!” So it was his wife, then. The child’s mother. “The kid’s in his room. He let a frog inside and mess up the carpet, so I sent him to his room .”

There was an unspoken message in those emphasized words directed specifically at the boy, though Dio could only guess based on what he’d gathered so far. A threat, clearly. If the child was listening, he wasn’t heeding the warning, instead curling his knees into his chest and trembling, breath shaking, throat thick with tears he’d kept pushed down for so long. 

It was then that Dio noticed there was someone else with them. A spirit, he guessed, based on the man’s translucency. He was kneeling in front of the boy, arms embracing the child in what had to be the most pathetic attempt at a hug that Dio had ever seen. His head was bowed, as if in defeat. A broken man.

No, not quite a broken man, Dio realized. The sheer grip with which the man “held” to the boy, and the way he had been positioned, as if trying to buffer the attack from the child’s father - he hadn’t given up, despite how ridiculously helpless he was. It was laughable, how this human could remain so valiant despite how much it had clearly worn at his spirit. 

In fact, now that he had a closer look at this man, there was something familiar about him. It was hard to see at first, with just a glance and minimal visibility, but the hair, the muscular pattern, the eyes ...those goddamned blue eyes belonged to only one man Dio knew.

“JoJo…”

The spirit on the floor gasped. He stumbled backwards, looking up with wide blue eyes, mouth hanging open but with no sound coming out. Sure enough, it was exactly who Dio suspected it to be, and a smirk crossed his lips. Of course this weary yet resilient young man would be Jonathan Joestar. 

“ Dio… ” The man spoke. He’d said the name before, over the eight years they were raised together in the Joestar mansion, but more often than not it had been spoken with fiery passionate tremors of anger and determination. But now, it was a quiet voice, filled with shock and horror. Since the day they had first met, Dio had fantasized about the day when his dear brother would speak his name with such reverence.

A strange laugh escaped Dio’s throat, pride and anger and amusement all rolled into one cathartic release of emotion. “It’s been so long, JoJo, though I don’t know why I’m so surprised. I suppose hell has decided I must revisit every aspect of my past. A bit like that old Dickens novel, in a way. Well then, JoJo, are you going to tell me I’ll be visited by three more spirits before the night is over?”

Jonathan’s brow furrowed, and he rose to his feet. “Dio…are you alright?”

Dio smirked, tilting his head. “Well, given that I’m dead I’d say there’s no good answer to that question. Tell me, do you happen to know where we are exactly? I assume this some sort of punishment meant for me. Or perhaps…” He grinned, sharp fangs poking out between his lips, “it’s actually a punishment for you ?” It was an even greater hell for JoJo, Dio realized. The man, so focused on protecting others, was forced to watch them suffer while he remained unable to do a thing about it.

Jonathan looked like he wanted to respond, but he merely hung his head, staring down at the quivering little boy. His hair fell ragged over his eyes, shielding all the raw pain that must have been in them from his brother’s cold gaze. 

Dio tossed his head back, laughing again. Oh, how delightful this was. An excellent distraction from the well-buried memories the little boy and his vile father had unearthed mere moments before. Seeing the visible pain and heartache in every movement JoJo made was a sight he’d so desperately longed to see. His spirit was tantalizingly close to being shattered, the fragments thrown asunder, and the once proud and gentlemanly rich brat would crumble and fall to Dio’s knees. 

As Dio continued to revel in his brother’s misery, Jonathan had crouched to the floor again, kneeling in front of the little boy with soft sorrow in his eyes. 

“Well, I suppose, in a way…” Jonathan said quietly. Dio had almost forgotten he’d asked the man a question to begin with. “Watching my...watching our son suffer like this...without able to help him-”

“Hold on.” Dio interrupted, face falling, eyebrows knitting together. “What did you just refer to this child as?”

Jonathan looked up at him. “Our son. Haruno...he was born when you used my body to...” the words were seemingly caught in his throat, and he squeezed his eyes shut, fists clenching. “When you used my body to impregnate his mother. Which makes...well, it makes at least one of us this boy’s father.”

Dio traced the tips of his fingernails across his neck, where the scar had once been, now gone when his original body was restored in the afterlife. He recalled the woman in the photographs - the child’s mother. He vaguely remembered a similar woman taking a photo of him one night outside his mansion, remembered inviting her inside as he had with other women and guiding her to the bedchamber, remembered gripping her neck afterwards, ready to drain her body, only for Enya to request his presence for a brief discussion. He’d left the woman there to be finished off later, yet try as he might, Dio could not surface any memory of killing her. 

It all lined up perfectly, but Dio refused to believe it until he could see it. He shoved Jonathan aside, crouching down to the boy’s side and staring into his eyes. 

Blue eyes. Round, wide, and oh so blue .

Jonathan’s eyes. 

At the collar of his shirt, just between his neck and shoulder, was the trademark five pointed star each of the Joestars bore.

Dio scowled. 

Jonathan leaned over his shoulder, and Dio could see just at a brief glance there was still a ray of hope flickering like a candle in his eyes, burning bright despite being shrouded by a rainstorm. Dio sighed, rising to his feet, expression stoic and cold. 

“This is not my son.”

Jonathan’s face fell.

“Dio...what do you mean by-”

“I mean exactly that. This boy is not my son. He is yours, and yours alone.”

JoJo’s candle-like shine of hope turned to a bonfire of anger. “He’s yours as well! Surely you know that!”

“He has your eyes and your mark, JoJo. That is enough.”

“The mark you stole . The mark you gave him through me .”

“At the end of the day, it’s your mark, not mine. This boy is-”

A new voice interrupted them. “Hey! I thought your father told you to go to your room!” It was the woman from the photograph, the woman who had been speaking to the man earlier in the living room. 

The little boy promptly rose to his feet. “I’m sorry.” 

The woman ignored the apology. “Your father and I are going out for the night, and we won’t be back until late. You go in your room and stay put for the rest of the evening, got it? And no dinner!”

The boy hung his head. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good. Now get a move on.” She stormed off down the hallway. There was the sound of a door being shut, followed by silence. 

Dio felt his nails digging into his palm, and he scowled. “I should have killed her when I had the chance.”

“Dio!” 

But Dio ignored Jonathan’s pleas. He stepped out of the room, phasing through the door, down the hallway, into the living room. Where was that damned rope? He needed to get out of here.

“ Dio, please! ”

A hand clasped around his shoulder. 

“JoJo, let go of me.”

“Please, Dio, I need you.” 

Jonathan’s voice sounded as if it was on the verge of tears.

Dio sighed. He turned around to pry Jonathan’s fingers from his shoulders, but he stopped, suddenly, noticing thin purple-blue tendrils sticking out from beneath the man’s palm, crackling like sparks of electricity. So small they were barely noticeable. Did JoJo even realize they were there at all?

The World summoned next to him, almost involuntarily, and it grabbed Jonathan’s wrist, sharply pulling it back. Shock and confusion replaced the panic in the young man’s eyes, and his gaze darted back and forth between Dio and the Stand. 

“Wh-What...what is that?” He asked, voice so quiet.

Dio did not answer. “I warn you, JoJo, do not try to follow me .”

His grip on Jonathan’s wrist released, and the man stumbled backwards, clutching it with the opposite hand. He looked up at Dio, eyes wide, begging.

“Dio...please…”

Dio turned back around, taking a step forward and into the light. The string reappeared, and he took hold. 

As he walked away, he swore he could hear JoJo crying his name, loud and long, like he had done years ago when they fought. But the anger inside it was accompanied by raw, painful despair.

Chapter Text

Hey Jude, don't make it bad

Take a sad song and make it better

“DIO! DIO!!! ”

Jonathan stepped into the light for a moment, hoping to see Dio, to grab hold of him and drag him back inside. But all that lay in the vast white expanse was his own golden rope, dangling freely in the air.

How long had it been since he used it? Since he’d even seen it? 

For a moment, Jonathan pondered going back, visiting Erina and George again. They surely must be worried about him by now. Maybe he could go back just for a moment and tell them everything was alright. 

He turned around, back into the house, and saw the mud prints from the frog still resting on the carpet. It had been an accident, really. Haruno had been hanging his rain-soaked jacket up to dry when the frog hopped out of his jacket pocket. How it had hidden in there without the boy noticing was anyone’s guess really. There had been a speckled white stone in the pocket before. Haruno had it slipped inside on his way home from school. Somehow, the frog had climbed in and kicked the stone out on its way. 

But of course, even when Haruno tried to explain to his stepfather that it hadn’t been his fault, he was still punished for it. 

Jonathan shook his head, walking back down the hallway. No. He couldn’t go back. Not yet. Haruno wasn’t safe yet.

Would he ever be safe? 

And now that he thought about it, would Haruno be safe, now that Dio was around? Admittedly, their interaction hadn’t gone nearly as bad as Jonathan worried it might be. He had lain awake at night in fear that Dio’s spirit would arrive and attempt to kill his son. Even worse, there was thought that Dio was still somehow alive, and would break into the house to actually accomplish that task. The thought was chilling, and he forced himself to believe that Dio would never do that. That Dio may have killed before, but he would never do the same to his own son. He had hoped, so foolishly hoped that even a scrap of that man’s humanity remained after all this, that he could somehow find a sliver of redemption through a son. 

But then there was another fear with that: the fear that Dio would banish Jonathan from ever seeing his son again. In all the years he had known him, he knew Dio was not the type who shared his things. He stole them. He had already taken so much from others - had already taken so much from Jonathan - and taking Haruno away would just be another drop in the bucket to him. 

He had every right to, as the boy’s father. Yet the thought of being shunned and forcefully separated from Haruno was, to Jonathan, a fate worse than death. 

And then there was the third possible reaction - the one that had ultimately become reality. 

“This is not my son.”

How could Dio just deny his own son? Surely Haruno’s situation had made him feel something. His reaction had been that of anger. In all their years together, Dio had faked so many emotions, put on a mask of sorrow or joy or fear to manipulate others. Anger had never been one of those fabrications. It had been real, raw and violent; a blood-red fury he unleashed when his pride was damaged. Jonathan had seen it again here. It was much more subdued and contained now, but his words carried that same scalding hot rage.

Was Dio truly that cowardly, to leave his child behind because it damaged his pride? 

A small voice - Haruno’s voice - silenced his thoughts. Jonathan blinked a few times. He was so caught up in his train of thought that he hadn’t realized he’d walked back to Haruno’s room, sitting down by the bed, back leaning (but not actually leaning, not quite touching the surface) against the wall. It was such a mindless routine at this point, practically muscle memory. 

Haruno was on the other side of the room, back against the wall, knees hugged into his chest, counting the seconds under his breath. Once he got to “centoventi”, he cautiously uncurled himself and peered out the window. The car was gone, his mother and stepfather in it, and they probably wouldn’t be back until the early hours of the morning. Still, Haruno moved as slowly and noiselessly as possible, lifting up the corner of his mattress at the foot of the bed and prying the hidden candy bar free. He’d taken it off a girl’s desk at school, stolen in a bout of childish rage after she’d taken the rubber ball he’d been using, bouncing it up and down as he paced the edges of the courtyard. But he never ate the stolen treat; the girl had started crying when she couldn’t find it, and instead of doing the proper, gentlemanly thing that Jonathan would have done by returning it, Haruno had squirreled it away in his room, never taking it out again.

If Jonathan was the boy’s father, he would have firmly demanded Haruno apologize to the young girl and return the bar, or perhaps offer to buy her a new one. But, of course, it was a useless gesture. At the very least, he could hope the guilt Haruno had felt was enough to deter any more stealing in the future. 

Haruno broke a piece of chocolate from the bar and placed it in his mouth, letting it soften. His cheeks were puffed up like a chipmunk’s, and a thin, weary smile formed on Jonathan’s face. He scooted across the floor, sitting cross-legged next to him and gently patting the boy’s head. 

To his surprise, Haruno seemed to notice the movement, or at least sense it in a way. He hastily shoved the candy bar underneath his school bag and scanned the room with wary eyes. They eventually landed on Jonathan...or at least, in his general direction. Haruno didn’t meet the man’s gaze, instead focusing on the area around him, tiny lips pursed and thin eyebrows furrowed as he focused on something else. He blinked, and his eyes became wide, the golden specks of light caught in them now shimmering brightly. Haruno rifled through his school bag, finally pulling up a pencil and a lined notebook. He suddenly leapt to his feet, running directly passed Jonathan, crouching on the floor between him and the nightstand.

What was it? Jonathan circled around, glancing over Haruno’s shoulder at the page in his hands, where a sketch of something was beginning to form. Haruno liked drawing. It was a quiet, mess-free activity he could do on his own. Something his parents wouldn’t yell at him for, except for that one time he used markers on his paper, and it bled through onto the kitchen table. He’d opted for simple pencils after that incident. 

Sometimes his pictures were animals or plants he saw on the walk to and from school. Birds flying high overhead, ants colonizing around a crack in the pavement, the crocus growing outside the flower shop in clay pots - they were all catalogued in the margins around his school work. Other times, he simply drew long, hard, frustrated scribbles across the paper, releasing pent-up emotions with graphite smears until his anger or fear were fully gone.

But this drawing wasn’t any of those. It was a wavy line, curling up and down, knotting in a couple places. Small triangles dotted it - thorns, Jonathan realized, and the line was probably a vine of some sort, or the stem of a plant. He turned his head to the right, following Haruno’s gaze to whatever had caught his eye in the first place.

At first, Jonathan saw nothing. Just the baseboard of the house, covered in a thin layer of dust. But there was a flicker of... something . Blue, maybe purple, in hue. Transparent, yet still clearly visible. It faded in and out of sight, waving up and down like the waves of the sea. Large thorns protruded from its otherwise smooth surface. A...vine? A ghost vine? Jonathan bent down to touch it. 

The minute his hand made contact, it became real, no longer an apparition. It started glowing with a brilliant shimmer of light - light Haruno could see as well, as he made an audible gasp of awe. The strange vine began growing , breaking off into several long strands, weaving up and down Jonathan’s right arm. They hugged his muscles tightly, thorns digging in and holding fast, but there was no pain. 

Haruno’s eyes followed the vine’s trail, and he immediately bent over his notebook, making hasty sketches across the page. 

Jonathan blinked rapidly, watching the blue-purple (indigo?) ghostly plant’s tendrils, tentatively touching it again with his other hand. The vine wrapped itself tighter, snuggly squeezing his arm. Warmth of sunshine radiated from it. 

Words were ringing in his head, like someone was speaking to him. 

Your Stand, Jonathan Joestar.

This is your Stand, Hey Jude.

Chapter Text

And when there's nowhere else to run

Is there room for one more son

No matter what Dio did, the incident with Jonathan and the child wouldn’t leave his mind.

There was nothing else for him to think about, really. He'd spent far too long wandering through the barren grey lands before he ultimately decided hunting down Lucifer was, for the time being, a useless endeavor. The devil was nothing more than a cowardly fool who hid from his prisoners, not bothering to so much as show his face, let alone battle for the right to rule his kingdom. 

This left Dio with only two options options to spend eternity: either in an empty wasteland of maddening silence, or observing the human realm and the unearthed unwanted memories that came with it. 

Naturally, he went with the first one. It wouldn’t all that bad, he supposed. He could simply pretend he was within The World’s frozen time, free to do what he pleased without the bothersome interruptions to distract him, left alone to himself and his thoughts.

The problem that soon presented itself, however, was the thoughts he was left to wallow through were that of JoJo’s not-quite-defeated face, and the little boy who was his son. 

Jonathan’s son, not his, he told himself. Though the repetition of the phrase soon wore thin and Dio found that more often than not he was thinking about the peculiar child. He was a firm believer in the gravitational pull of fate, so surely there was some reasoning behind the meeting. JoJo’s abrupt conclusion that Dio must be the boy’s father could not be correct - Dio was not one to share things willingly, and that included his son’s family tree - but it was the only answer that made any sort of sense. Fate would not be leading him towards a potential lackey when the living and the dead could not properly speak to one another. There was only one reason, and it was an answer Dio refused to credit.

It was when The World began displaying these same feelings when Dio finally confronted problem. His Stand had, until now, remained a silent unfeeling guardian who acted on no will other than Dio's own. But now it was acting on its own accord, hovering beside the flaming orange string, brows furrowed as though it were somehow confused or frustrated by it, as though his Stand was capable of feeling . It would flick at it with its fingers, sending waves of stinging heat through Dio's chest.

It started out as a relatively minor annoyance, but it soon escalated into anger, and he began shouting at it. "That's enough! The World, come to me!" 

But The World did not respond. It stood still.

Never before had his own Stand betrayed his actions. Against his better judgement, Dio snapped at the thing. "The World! Obey me!"

For a moment, the Stand remained focused on its initial action, but it slowly turned to its master, expression unreadable. It dissipated into the clouds like a puff of golden smoke, returning to Dio's soul.

How peculiar, Dio thought to himself. His Stand had never strayed from his wishes before. It had always been subservient, obedient, loyal to Dio and Dio alone.

No, wait…

No, this hadn't been the only time The World had acted against him, had it? A memory was resurfacing in his mind, when he was first pierced by the arrow given to him by Enya. The Stand had wandered off on its own, away from Dio, as though it were a stray dog seeking warmth and shelter from a storm. Enya had told him something then, about the nature of Stands. 

"It is acting on your deepest desires, Lord Dio. Your Stand is incredibly strong, just as you are my Lord, and it has gained a minor form of sentience. It will do anything it believes will help your spirit. You must control your thoughts, let it know you only require total power and conquest over mankind to feel joy, and that it does not need to act on its own to try and please you."

Dio had heeded those instructions. He followed his Stand as it wandered about, attempting to learn which thoughts The World was acting upon, so he could cut them out. It didn't take him long to solve the mystery; the Stand only ever went to the pillar in Dio's bedchambers, where Jonathan's skull rested in the furthest corner, and stared down at it with mournful eyes. Dio had responded in turn, pushing any thoughts of love or sorrow he felt towards his dead rival into the most isolated and forgotten recesses of his mind, and let the feelings of anger he felt towards the man fester and fan into larger flames that he targeted at the Joestar lineage as a whole.

Death must have made him careless, however, as The World was acting out again. How dare it disobey him. Control of The World was the only remaining sense of power he had left in this rotten place, and he would do everything in his power to keep it that way. 

But a part of him, loathe to admit it he was, wanted to give into The World's curiosity. Hell was so dreadfully boring to him, and even the plethora of luxuries at his fingertips were not enough to keep him satiated. The only thought of interest remaining was JoJo and his boy - the boy, not his boy, it was Jonathan’s, not his - suffering in the land of the living.

So despite his annoyance that he was giving in to such human urges, Dio clenched the rope tightly with both hands and stepped forward into the darkness. Slowly but surely, the void became filled with bright painful light, and the land of the living came into focus.

It was daytime when he arrived. It felt odd, standing out in broad daylight after his vampirism made him unable to for so long. But he was dead, and he felt no warmth from the early morning sunshine. 

Automobiles crowded the street, clogging up the road like the humans driving them clogged up the very planet they inhabited. Young schoolchildren littered the sidewalk Dio stood upon, schoolbags slung from their shoulders, clustered together in groups where their annoying chatter rose to a higher volume. Dio sneered down at them. Childhood was such a bothersome life stage - a time when one was too young to do much of anything other than be a nuisance to everyone else. Even Stand user children he’d hired to defeat the Joestars such as the Oingo Boingo brothers were hardly more advanced than non-Stand users their age. 

“Haruno, I do think you should hurry along to school now.” 

Even amidst the noise of the streets, JoJo’s voice was just as clear and unmistakable as it had always been. Dio spotted him, crouched a few feet away with arms resting on his legs, hands over his knees, back hunched away from him. The boy was there as well - Haruno, JoJo had called him - kneeling down by a crack in the ground, his eyes laser focused on something too small to be properly seen from where Dio stood.

He took a step to the side, attempting to get a better look, but he paused, reconsidering. If he let his presence be known, JoJo's useless optimism would return. He'd think his brother had come back to help him. Dio wouldn't allow that. He wouldn't give JoJo such hope, not when he was so close to victory over the gentleman's spirit. Instead, he hid himself in an alleyway nearby, watching them around the corner. 

Haruno was resting his hand on the pavement, body so unnaturally still, especially for a child. Dio had very little experience with children, but he knew even half-grown young boys were wild and carefree. They were never patient.

...Except for Dio, of course, but he was different. He may not have always been a powerful, fearsome being, but he had always been better than the other measly humans, they had just been too blinded by their own hubrises to tell. 

Perhaps that was why JoJo had mistaken the boy as Dio’s son. They were both far more well-behaved than their human kin at a young age. Maybe there was a bit of Dio somewhere in there, a hint of his vampire prowess mixed in with his human genes, genes that would lead Haruno to one day rise up from the hand fate had dealt him and live on as Dio once had, killing any and all who stood in his way, and claiming dominance over humankind. 

Haruno lifted his hand off the ground, staring down at the lumpy, green-spotted caterpillar now crawling across it. The boy walked forward slowly, towards a potted plant in front of a nearby flower shop, and rested the little creature inside. 

Dio scoffed, turning away. No, even if there was a bit of him in the child, there was still far too much humanity. He cared too much for the worthless bugs and animals of the earth. He was JoJo’s son, no matter what. The boy meant nothing to him. There was no way to coddle the child in his current state; to snuff out the weaknesses of kindness and virtue, and raise him under proper ideals until he was a worthy successor to Dio’s goals. 

He should leave now. He had no reason to care about his supposed offspring. And were Dio in a better frame of mind, he might have. Yet he couldn’t help staying behind to watch as a pair of adolescent boys approached Haruno. 

“Oi, Haruno! Don’t stand around for two long!” The first boy laughed, his voice was mocking, far from concerned.

“Yeah, you’re already too slow to walk to school on time normally!” The other one snickered. “You don’t wanna get left behind, do ya?”

Jonathan cringed, grinding his teeth. At his side, the long spiked vines of his Stand appeared, much to Dio’s surprise. So JoJo had noticed them. But did he realize what they were? In the world of the dead, Stands held no power - or at least, Dio’s didn’t - so there would be no way to discover its ability.

Haruno didn’t seem to notice his father’s Stand. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and bowed his head, slightly readjusting his backpack as he started shuffling down the sidewalk.

As soon as he was in front of the boys, they shoved him to the ground, knocking Haruno into a muddy puddle of rainwater. 

“Oh, whoops!” One of them laughed. “We didn’t mean to push you over like that! Now you’re soaking wet!”

Haruno remained motionless, lying face down in the puddle. He didn’t even bother to look up at the brats tormenting him, or at JoJo, who was kneeling directly next to him now, one hand stroking the boy’s back.

“Aww, is he gonna cry?” The second boy sneered.

“Nah, Haruno doesn’t cry.” The first boy replied. “Didn’t you know? Total freakshows like him don’t have feelings.”

The World suddenly manifested by Dio’s side, fists curled, teeth bared. He quickly withdrew it, before JoJo could notice. But the fuming anger within him was slowly beginning to boil over, and he flexed his fingers, twitching with the anticipation of the next kill, but no such thing was possible. Death was such a useless thing. Those boys would never learn their lesson. They’d just grow up to become the same scum of the earth Dio’s father had been. They only thing one could down now, other than killing them outright, was forcing them to experience the pain they inflicted on other children.

Haruno could easily take initiative here. He was in the perfect position for it, face to face with the two brats, close enough to physically hurt them if he wanted to. When Dio was that boy’s age, he’d spar against the other children on a regular basis, and as a result developed incredibly fast reflexes and a strong right hook. At a glance, Haruno clearly had none of that experience, but neither did his bullies. A simple jab to the head or stomach (perhaps even one below the belt) would surely get those two to at least reconsider their stance, and perhaps become more wary of Haruno in the future. 

But Haruno did no such thing. Instead, the boy rose from the puddle unceremoniously. The blue vines of Jonathan’s Stand were, at the very least, trying to help in the process, gently pushing up his shoulders and back, but Haruno did not acknowledge them. He lifted his school bag from the ground, and started walking away, his footsteps slow, head hanging. 

As he passed the bullies again, he awkwardly brushed against the shoulder of the second one, far too forceful to have been an accident. The bully stumbled backwards as his schoolbag was knocked off, spilling pens, paper, and miscellaneous junk across the sidewalk.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” He shoved Haruno back, knocking him down to the ground again. 

“Sorry…” Haruno mumbled, crawling up to his knees, picking up the mess he’d made and refilling the bag, then handing it over. His left hand remained at his side, balled into a fist.

The pair of boys sneered down at him for a moment. One of them sharply kicked him in the stomach before they turned and walked away.

Jonathan was already at Haruno’s side, the blue spiked vines of his Stand latched to the child’s shoulders. They looked more akin to parasitic leeches than any sort of realistic comfort, though Dio doubted JoJo would care much. Haruno seemed to have already brushed off the incident, however, now standing on both feet. He brought his left hand, still clenched tightly, up to his chest and cautiously relaxed it. 

Small silver and gold coins rested in his palm, probably no more than a few lira. Pocket change, something a child his age might be carrying around, say, inside their schoolbag.

“Haruno…” Jonathan murmured, brows furrowed, a clear note of disappointment in his voice. 

Haruno heard nothing, slipping the coins into his pocket and began walking down the path again. JoJo gave a long, heavy sigh before following close behind.

Dio smirked, looking down at the boy from where he hid. So then, the boy wasn’t 100% in line with his father’s morals. He knew already that in order to reach the top, one must take from others to achieve their own goals. Despite his lack of physical skill, Haruno was still very sharp for his age. He was under-experienced at the moment, but he was still ahead of his peers. 

Perhaps this child wasn’t as useless as Dio thought him to be.

Chapter Text

Do your demons, do they ever let you go?

When you've tried, do they hide deep inside?

Is it someone that you know?

And so, Dio Brando, the man who once thought himself to be the absolute pinnacle of perfection, the man who would become God, found himself spending more and more time watching over the little Haruno Shiobana.

Most of the time, he couldn’t understand why he stayed at the child’s side. Haruno’s life was, at its best, incredibly mundane, following a rigid school schedule in the mornings and staying in his bedroom all afternoon. He had no friends to speak of, spending all of his free time in his own solitude. 

Yet somehow it was all so fascinating to him. Every passing second provided Dio with more and more information about who this strange child was, what he liked to do, what he excelled at, and the places he fell short. 

For one thing, Haruno loved animals and plants. While other children his age would run amuck on the school playground equipment, being far too loud and causing all sorts of chaos, Haruno would instead kneel down in the dirt with the flowers and bushes, watching bees and butterflies pollinate the unimpressive flora and fauna on his school grounds. Every week he went to his school's library to borrow their set of junior animal encyclopedias, and spent hours reading them on his own, occasionally with a pencil and notebook at his side to doodle the strange creatures he read about.

Haruno liked to draw, but he was hardly good at it in Dio's eyes. His pictures were nothing more than disproportionate shapes stacked and squished together, and if Dio had not seen the references he'd been following from his books he would have never guessed what they were supposed to be. Yet Jonathan still praised the boy’s artwork as though it were a masterpiece worthy of being hung in a museum. Dio could not possibly fathom why. He’d given up on understanding JoJo’s confusing mindscape long ago. 

Speaking of JoJo, in all the time Dio had spent silently stalking them from a distance, the man never once left Haruno’s side. It was irritating to keep himself out of Jonathan’s sight while still remaining within range. More often than not, Dio had to step back into the edge of the spirit world whenever Haruno was at home. He waited impatiently for hours on end until he finally deemed it safe to return, though judging when was always a difficult task. Clocks didn’t work in the afterlife, and counting every second, minute, and hour was tedious. It ultimately came down to guesswork in the end.

Today was no exception to that rule. As soon as Haruno crossed the threshold of his house, Dio disappeared into the void. He waited near the rope, lounging about with a book in his hand, idly thumbing through the pages that he’d long since stopped paying attention to - it was incredibly dull, and served more use as a paperweight than an actual piece of literature. All the while, The World grew increasingly restless, playing with the string as though it were a cat with a ball of yarn.

“Alright, that’s enough.” He finally sighed, closing the book and tossing it over his shoulder. “Quit your whining, you fool. I’m on my way.”

The World’s expression softened, which Dio shot down with a cold glare. The caveat to watching Haruno every day was that his Stand retained its sentiance, as well as its uncomfortably warm behavior. No matter what he did, The World remained intent on protecting Haruno at all costs. It was a weakness Dio loathed, but the only other foreseeable option was to simply abandon Haruno and remain in isolation, which he simply could not do; not only for the insanity of loneliness, but for the need to somehow “raise” the boy. His living family was doing a piss poor job of that themselves right now, and while Jonathan was trying his best, he was clearly not qualified for the job.

What Haruno needed right now was not abuse or verbal insults, nor the constant babying and doting from JoJo. No, what he really needed was a simple nudge in the right direction from someone who actually understood how to survive in the world he lived in. 

Dio followed the rope’s path (it seemed to grow shorter and shorter the more he traversed it) until he stepped foot in Haruno’s bedroom. The inky black darkness of midnight greeted him. Silver light from the moon’s elegant shimmer highlighted the sparse furniture, casting abstract shadows along the walls. In a slim-framed bed shoved in one corner of the room was Haruno, a thin white blanket bundled tightly around him like the protective cocoon of a butterfly, his face tilted towards the window’s natural nightlight. 

Inelegantly collapsed against the wall next to him was Jonathan Joestar, eyes closed as though he were asleep as well. Dio was almost certain spirits couldn’t sleep at all - there was no need for it if you were unable to become fatigued in the first place - and yet he found JoJo like this every night, awkwardly slumped next to the bed as though he were a guard dosing off on duty.

Whatever the reason for Jonathan’s slumber, it was of no concern at the moment. All Dio cared about was that it allowed him to get closer to Haruno than he ever could in the daytime. 

He approached as directly as possible, choosing to avoid Jonathan by simply phasing into the bed and watching from behind. He looked down at the scrawny little boy curled into himself in the sheets. Such a weak and useless thing, too afraid and submissive to make a change of any sort in his life. That was probably the most infuriating thing about playing guardian angel over him. Haruno had potential to become something brilliant. He was smart, scoring high marks on tests and in-school assessments, but his abysmal home life and parents made him far too stressed to earn anything better than a C grade on his homework. He understood quite clearly, even at an early age, that the world was nothing more than one long game of survival of the fittest, and the only way you could win was by breaking the rules. But he kept his head low, not bothering to make any easily-manipulated allies, because the only children his age willing to engage with him at all were the school bullies who followed him like a flock of buzzards ready to pick his carcass clean.

But if one or more of those threats were eliminated, then Haruno might be able to thrive. If his parents were to, say, die of a mysterious illness several weeks from now, or perhaps get into an accident on the road, he would have a greater control over his life. He would rapidly outpace his classmates in education and gain a higher self-confidence. He would learn to fight back when other children mocked him, learn he was worth more than those filthy gutter rats. Best of all, no one would suspect a thing. Haruno was such a shy, unassuming child that when his parents were found dead the police would overlook the boy entirely.

Yes, there were no bad outcomes from killing off Haruno's parents, so long as he played his cards right. All he needed was actually do the deed. Unfortunately, Haruno was far too submissive to others, and he would never act on his own. Tragic, really. When Dio was this boy's age, living under similar circumstances, he never believed he was worth anything less than to sit on the velvet throne in a king's castle. Although, he at least had a mother who, despite all her flaws and failings, at least cared for him. Haruno's mother was neglectful at best, selfish and cruel at worst. With a woman like that for a mother, he would never learn he could take action in his life.

However, he had Dio, and Dio had The World. Spirits may not be able to interact with the living, but perhaps a Stand could. And now, and he stood over Haruno's sleeping form, there was no better time to test that hypothesis.

As quietly as possible, Dio called forth The World, and the golden figure promptly appeared at his side. Without any need for verbal command, it dove downwards until it hovered inches away from Haruno, then pressed a hand on the boy's head, fingers slipping through his skull with ease. It curled each one individually, the movements rippling until it made a fist, then it uncurled them again. The simple motion repeated over and over, first slowly then quickly speeding up. All the while, Dio watched Haruno's face. 

At first, there was no noticeable change. The boy remained still and silent. But as The World's movements sped up, Haruno began to stir. His shoulders became tense and his face scrunched up into a tiny grimace. He unconsciously shrugged himself further towards the edge of the bed, his head shaking back and forth as if to knock the invisible hand away. 

Dio grinned. So his Stand did have some effect in this world, though what limits it had were yet to be seen. He forced The World to dig deeper, tracing its fingers around the inside of the head. 

Haruno shivered. His eyelids squeezed together, even tighter than before. His body was beginning to tremble, the faint tremor starting in his quivering lip and shaking fists, then spreading throughout the entire body. A whimper was just barely able to escape Haruno's throat before it was silenced by his own hands shoving the blanket into his mouth. He bit down on it, muffling his cries.

Oh. The World hadn't been harmlessly twiddling around in Haruno's brain, it had accidentally given the boy a nightmare . That was the last thing Dio wanted. He'd hoped it would merely wake Haruno up and nothing more. Haruno was quiet when he woke up, always remaining silent and still in bed until he drifted off again. A nightmare meant he'd make plenty of noise before he woke up, which meant that-

"Dio?"

...Which meant that Jonathan would get back up, just as he was now doing, staring back at Dio with shock and anger burning like white hot flames in his pale blue eyes.

Chapter Text

Maybe it’s better to stay vague.

Then, I’ll begin to understand why I do the things I do.

Dio was only able to call The World back to his side before JoJo's Stand came flying at him, the web of indigo vines blurring his vision as they latched onto his skin, around his neck and waist. The thorns dug into his skin as the bind tightened around him.

Jonathan was on his feet, glaring down Dio. It had been so long since Dio had seen such scathing raw fury burning deep inside those eyes. "Get away from him!"

Dio laughed. "Hello to you too, JoJo." He summoned The World once again, using its extra pair of limbs to tear the vines off his arm and swinging them back and forth. "This is hardly the proper greeting I'd expect from a gentleman."

He expected JoJo to retort with some witty reply of his own. Perhaps something like "Why have you come back here, Dio?" or "I won't let you get away this time, Dio!" or something else along those lines.

Instead, Jonathan leapt headfirst towards him, grabbed hold of his shoulders and head with both hands, and shoved him against the wall. The vines twisted uncomfortably around Dio, and he gagged as they tightened around his throat.

"Hmph, you're here to fight me then?" Dio smirked up at JoJo. "Blindly attacking right of the bat? No exposition needed? Very well then."

The World descended onto Jonathan, swinging a fist at his head. But JoJo blocked it with one of his vine-clad arms. Stand and Stand collided, pushing against one another until Jonathan finally gained the upper hand. He knocked The World's fist to the side and landed a punch on its chest with his opposite arm.

Dio stumbled backward, feeling the impact take the wind out of him. It was far more painful than he expected; without his vampire form, he was not quite as strong as he once was. The force of the punch had even phased him to the other side of the wall. 

Still, he wouldn’t let a single blow stop him. Dio stepped back into the bedroom. He laughed as he saw JoJo, his back turned to him completely, facing Haruno in the bed. How could he let his guard down that easily? 

Just as Jonathan turned his head back around, Dio’s punched him square in the jaw, causing him to lose his footing for a moment and stumble backwards before catching himself. Dio watched him recoil in pain, waiting for him to strike back. 

But instead, JoJo threw his hands out in front of him, palms out and frantically waving. “Wait, Dio! Stop!”

That was odd. Did JoJo really think reducing himself to a pleading and begging would earn him forgiveness? Surely not. Jonathan was smarter than that, Dio knew. It had thrown him off-guard for a moment, yes, but such a useless act would get him nowhere. He had provoked Dio’s fighting spirit. The ecstasy of engaging in a proper duel - a duel with Jonathan, his destined rival, no less - rushed through his body like blood, filling him to the brim with energy he’d craved for so long. 

The World at his side, Dio lunged at Jonathan, a fist curled and aimed at his head. Jonathan’s Stand rose from its pitiful heap on the ground, twisting and weaving about him to create a small barrier. A barrier with too many holes, Dio realized immediately. How useless.

He swung his fist through a particularly large gap near JoJo’s head, but JoJo ducked just in time and the attack missed by a hair’s width. The World fired another faster punch, hitting its mark at JoJo’s chest and briefly knocking the wind out of him. 

But before Dio could throw another punch, Jonathan was back into action. The thorny shield of his Stand spread out even more, and each attempt Dio or The World made to hit between the holes were blocked as the branches around the gap would quickly fill in. 

Nevertheless, Dio forced The World to barrage the vines with rapid-fire punches, but all failed to make it past. He increased his speed, irritation growing to bloody anger as JoJo remained unfazed. 

“That’s enough!” Jonathan shouted, quite suddenly. The vines whipped around towards The World, wrapping all the way around it in a vice-like bind within an instant. Dio’s arms and legs snapped to his sides as the Stand’s confinement reflected back onto him. He squirmed in place irritably. The World started clawing at the vines surrounding it but was unsuccessful in breaking free. Its eyes drifting to Dio with arched eyebrows, awaiting instruction. 

But instead, Dio started laughing, slowly shaking his head. "Your spirit is as undaunting as ever, I see. I've almost missed it."

Jonathan gritted his teeth. “Dio, you need to listen to me! We can’t be fighting like this. Not now…” 

“Oh really?” Dio crooked an eyebrow. “So eager to stop our brawl, yet you’re the one who threw the first punch.”

Jonathan chewed at his lip, gaze drifting off into the distance before quickly jumping back to the fight. “Please, just withdraw your Stand. I’m sure we can talk this out civilly.” 

Dio cocked his head to one side. “You first.”

JoJo flinched, then scowled, hands balling into fists.

A smug grin curled on Dio’s lips. Yes, all JoJo had to do was release his Stand’s grip, and then he would be free to attack once again, to pin JoJo down to the floor and stare into the man’s pure blue eyes, watching the despair and fear consume him as Dio lauded victory over his foe. 

They stood at a stalemate, the space between them growing colder with each passing second. JoJo’s eyes were locked on Dio, glare so sharp it was practically shooting daggers. But Dio held his ground. Sooner or later, Jonathan would give in and withdraw his Stand. He could wait as long as he needed. 

“What’s with the hesitation?” He mocked. “Do you think I might attack? Don’t you have a sliver of trust for your own brother?” Dio knew his plan was incredibly obvious, but that didn’t matter. He merely wanted to spur JoJo into action.

“ Dio ...” Jonathan muttered, much too quiet, not as loud and fiery as he usually screamed during their fights. What a pity. Dio had been hoping to hear his brother shout that name in lava-hot anger like he had before. 

Eventually, JoJo sighed, head hanging. “Alright then.” His Stand loosened, pulling away from The World. 

The instant his arms were free, Dio dove at JoJo, fingers curled like the claws of a bear. The World was close behind, ready to fight off any counterattacks. Jonathan held up his fists, bracing for the attack. 

As soon as he was within range, Dio grabbed Jonathan by the shoulders, shoving him backwards. Jonathan was quick to retaliate, quick to return the favor by gripping Dio’s shoulders and pushing back. But his force was no match for the combined strength of Dio and The World. He staggered backwards, knees buckling under the pressure and knocking him down. 

Still, he fought back, pushing upwards against Dio’s body with all his might. A valiant effort, but a futile one. Dio gave one final shove, and JoJo toppled off his knees and onto his side. The World pinned him down, one arm holding his arms, the other pushing into his back. Jonathan grimaced. One of his vine-wrapped arms fell to the side, reaching outward. His eyes followed Dio as he bent down over the fallen gentleman.

“You’re too trusting, JoJo.” He said with a grin. “Such an obvious trap, and yet you fell for it. Your senses have grown too dull.”

Jonathan’s gaze faltered, focusing on some point in the distance. For a moment, Dio thought he was ignoring him completely. Then JoJo sighed, closing his eyes. 

“I knew you’d do that…” He muttered, his voice weak and breathless. “You’d never give in like that. That’s why...I needed to use my Stand...to keep us as far away from him as possible.” 

“Hmm?” Dio frowned, his gaze following JoJo’s line of sight, landing on the bed at the opposite end of the room. Jonathan’s Stand had formed another shield in front of the bed. This one was thicker, with no gaps, but much smaller. The ends at the bottom trailed across the floor back to Jonathan’s arm.

A mop of dark hair poked around the thorny web, and two blue eyes stared back at them, wide and frightened.

The vines quickly stretched out, trying to block the boy from sight. “It’s alright, Haruno! Go back to sleep! Everything’s fine!” Jonathan called out, a noticeable waver in his voice, clearly the furthest thing from fine . He was trying to put something of a smile on his face, but it came out too forced, his grin more akin to bared teeth, the lines of his face too tense to be natural. 

Haruno blinked, unresponsive to JoJo’s pleas at first, but then he obediently crawled across the bed and burrowed beneath his blanket. He curled himself into a shivering little ball, burying his head in his knees, rocking back and forth ever so slightly. 

Dio was frozen - completely paralyzed in place, as if that Kujo boy’s Stand had stopped time around him. His limbs were as immovable as rock, yet all the tension inside them was gone completely. He felt his body hang heavy, like a hanged man in the gallows. 

So then, Jonathan had not wanted a simple fight. He had been trying to protect Haruno the entire time. Dio scowled, cursing himself for not realizing it sooner. Of course Jonathan wanted to protect his child from any threats, and while Dio was no threat to the child, it had certainly looked that way when JoJo woke up. A misguided and needless act, but not entirely unfounded. 

At some point - while Dio hung cold, frozen in time - Jonathan had squirmed across the floor, back to his bedside vigil. His Stand’s protective shield had dissimilated, and the few remaining strands were hugging Haruno’s shaking body. “Shhh…” He murmured, softly rubbing the boy’s back. “It’s alright now. You’re safe. Just try to sleep.”

Slowly, Dio’s petrified state broke away, and as soon as he was mobile once again he folded his arms and turned away from the scene. His plan was ruined now. Jonathan had seen him. The illusion of abandonment he’d been attempting to craft was broken now. Not only that, but Haruno had witnessed their brawl. There had been fear in his eyes - the same fear of pain and hurt Dio had worn himself, when he couldn't have been much older than a mere toddler. A time long ago, when he’d hidden wherever he could, beneath the table or behind a chair, and clamp his hands over his mouth to keep himself silent. Nothing good came from crying out, he'd learned. Not when his father was in one of his evening fits, drunkenly shouting at his mother, throwing any blunt object he could find at her, pulling her by the hair and slamming her head against the wall…

Dio glanced back at Jonathan - at his weary worn features - and at Haruno, biting the insides of his cheeks and shaking, trying and failing to put a damper on his barely audible whimpers A bitter realization started sinking into his chest. 

He’d become just like his father, hadn’t he?

His nails clawed into his palms. Dammit. He was losing control. He had to leave, now , before things got worse. Before Haruno's impression of him was tainted forever. He started walking towards the wall, searching for the rope back. Perhaps he wasn’t too late. Perhaps, if he gave it time, the boy would forget the incident altogether, and Dio could return to his original plan. Perhaps he could-

Something wrapped tightly around his ankles and pulled him to the floor. Dio didn't have any time to process the situation as whatever had grabbed him started dragging his body across the floor like a limp ragdoll. It wasn't until he stopped that Dio realized the force pulling him was none other than Jonathan's Stand, and now JoJo was staring down at him with a stern, calm anger still burning in his eyes.

"What the bloody hell do you want from me?" Dio spat.

Jonathan remained calm as he lifted Dio by the torso - despite the latter's angry shouts of disapproval - until he was sitting upright, facing Haruno's bedside.

JoJo pointed towards the Haruno-shaped lump under the blankets, to the small gap where the boy's face just barely poked out. "I want you to apologize for what you did."

Dio nearly burst into laughter. "Do you honestly take me for some groveling fool, JoJo?"

Jonathan's face hardened, and the vines wrapped around Dio's ankles tightened. Dio ignored them. It was just JoJo attempting to guilt him into obeying. Such a technique would be futile, and Dio was going to prove it to him. He folded his arms and leaned back, fighting Jonathan's clenched jaw with a smug smirk. 

This would be easy. Jonathan couldn't keep his anger out forever, not when Haruno was nearby, shaking and whimpering with fear beneath his blankets. 

As long as Dio could ignore those pitifully muffled wails as well…

But he could manage. After all, he was the almighty Dio. Mortals did not concern him in the least, not even when this mortal was so fascinating.

Not even when those cries were growing louder...

Not even if this boy was too much like a cracked mirror to Dio's own past he did not wish to look into too deeply…

Not even if he could feel his chest slowly heating up from pressure as Jonathan's glare never faltered...

Not even if the idea of apologizing was becoming more and more tempting, if only so he could get the hell out of this situation...

... dammit .

"Alright fine ." Dio's smirk had long since dropped, replaced with bared teeth. He ignored the shock and relief on Jonathan's face as he turned back to Haruno. "I apologize ."

"For?"

Oh, was this JoJo's game now? Dio couldn't tell if Jonathan was actually being as intentionally malicious as his words sounded. "I don’t need to answer that. He already knows.”

“Yes, but you still need to say it.” Jonathan insisted. 

This was a nightmare. Or possibly some other form of torture for his eternal torment. Ideally, Dio could just punch Jonathan a few times with The World and walk away without having to deal with this, but his violent actions had already driven a wedge in his plan, and he wouldn't allow himself to hammer it in further.

He closed his eyes for a moment, preparing himself. He'd been a master at feigning emotions since he was a child, but it had been more than a century since he'd needed to adorn the carefully crafted mask of guilt in order to get his way. 

Once the old familiar farce was fresh in his mind again, Dio calmly opened his eyes - their sharp corners softened, his browline creased, his gaze cast to the floor and focused on nothing in particular. "I apologize for hurting you, Haruno. It was not my intention. I merely wished to test my Stand's ability and bridge the gap between our worlds, but it seems I may have gotten a bit too close."

"And?"

Dio silently fought down the urge to tackle Jonathan to the floor and strangle him with his bare hands. "And for attacking Jonathan. I'm sure watching your only guardian get the shit beaten out of him wasn't exactly pleasant for you." 

He expected JoJo to interrupt again, or just drag this out even further, but much to his surprise the other man smiled and nodded. "Thank you."

The corners of Dio's lips twitched ever so slightly. Time hadn't affected his performance in the slightest - in fact, it had only made him stronger. The emotions felt real now, so real that he could almost feel them. No one could see through his guise now. Not even that two-bit crook of a friend JoJo had would see it was an act. 

What was that man's name again, anyways? Speed...something. Speedwagon? Was that it? No, surely not. Dio refused to believe he’d been caught in a bluff by a man named something as utterly ridiculous as Speedwagon .

That thought could wait for later. The important thing was that Dio had said what he needed, and was ready to leave. Although, the emotions he’d so carefully crafted in his heart still felt very much alive. No matter. They would go away in time. He paused to glance at Haruno, expecting to see some sort of recognition on the child's face. Perhaps a small, knowing smile of gratitude. Maybe his trust in Dio would not fade away just yet.

But Haruno's expression was far from comforted. His eyes still practically bulged in their sockets, and he still trembled and shook like a dead leaf in the chilly winter wind.

Dio knitted his brows together. What more did this boy want from him? He had offered up the most sincere apology he could muster, and Haruno hadn't even acknowledged it. It made Dio's chest burn, the golden string still knotted up in there setting him aflame from the inside out. 

JoJo suddenly leaned between the two, holding his hand out in front of Haruno's face, gently waving it back and forth. 

"Haruno?" He whispered.

The boy didn't even flinch.

Jonathan sighed and sat back down, shaking his head. "He can't see or hear us anymore."

"Can't see us?"

"It's not your fault. Sometimes he can see us, but most of the time he can't. There's never any pattern to it...not one that I can tell, at least."

Dio look changed from one of anger to one of suspicion.

"I'm telling the truth!" Jonathan glared back at him. "I wish it wasn't like this, believe me."

"Sounds awfully convenient." Dio crossed his arms, straightening his back. "He sees when we fight, but can't see when we make up. This system seems quite biased, JoJo."

Of course, Dio had no reason to doubt what JoJo said. It lined up perfectly with everything he'd seen so far. But disregarding JoJo's words was essential to him at this moment. Not once in life did Dio and JoJo sincerely agree with one another, and doing so now would break the balance of their eternal rivalry.

Similarly, Dio could not admit he cared for...no, "cared" was the wrong word. "Cared" had many connotations, with anything ranging from "a small amount of passion" to "deep, devoted, self-sacrificial love", and the type of “cared” used between a guardian and a child almost always fell under the latter. 

But Dio was not like that - would never be like that. It was the same love his mother had, the love she gave out to everyone regardless of whether or not they deserved it, and the love which had ultimately paved the path to her grave. Dio could not allow himself to become like her. To love someone unconditionally was dangerous. So no, he would not say he "cared" for Haruno. He would never use such a deadly word. Instead, he was...interested in him. Interested in the boy's accomplishments. Interested in watching him grow. Simply that, and nothing more. Nothing more...

And he could never let JoJo learn that. It was bad enough that he was willingly submitting himself to JoJo's mercy in this moment, but he would never let it happen again. From now on, he needed to keep his weaknesses under lock and key. 

"Dio? Dio, did you hear me?"

Dio tensed, snapping back into focus by sharply glaring back at Jonathan. "What do you want?"

JoJo shivered slightly at the ice cold chill of Dio's words. "I just wanted to say sorry for attacking you before." His gaze slowly wandered away, back to Haruno, where the vines of his Stand gently curled around him. "It's just...there's already so many people out there trying to hurt him. He doesn't have any allies, except for us. 

"And then...and then I saw you standing there...and Haruno looked so afraid. I thought you were going to-" Jonathan's voice cracked, abruptly cutting himself off. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to compose himself. "I panicked, and I acted rashly. I'm sorry."

Dio said nothing, keeping his glare locked on Jonathan's shaking blue eyes. For a moment, he thought JoJo would cry, but no tears came through.

"And besides," he continued, "I know you wouldn't hurt Haruno."

Dio laughed. "Really? And why not?" What possible reason did he have to trust Dio - Dio, the man who not only killed him, but nearly succeeded killing all of his descendants as well. Not even JoJo's pure heart would be willing to let someone so dangerous anywhere near his child.

Jonathan's smile was wide enough to reach the corners of his eyes, glittering like stars in the night. "You've been following him around for a while. I've seen you. I think even Haruno's seen you. You never say or do anything, but you're always there."

Panic seized hold of Dio for a moment. Shock, anger, frustration - all mostly targeted at himself. How could he have been so careless? Jonathan was no fool. He was observant, and sharp as a tack. Of course he had seen him. Of course .  

"I know who you are, Dio." Jonathan continued. "Vampire or not, you aren't some mindless murder monster. If you truly intended to hurt Haruno - or even me, after everything you've already done - you would have done it a long time ago."

This was all going wrong. Jonathan wasn't supposed to know any of this. It hadn't even been Dio's fault - other than the fact that he'd clearly underestimated JoJo's deductive skills. 

Useless, useless, useless! Even in death JoJo was foiling his plans, stepping out of line to ruin Dio's perfect world. The man hadn't even realized it, too, which only made the feeling that much worse. How was that even possible? To win, without even realizing you’d done anything?

"Ah, I suppose I should let you go now, shouldn't I?" Jonathan laughed sheepishly - such a damn fool, oblivious to his own victory in their battle. "Haruno’s already fallen asleep.”

Yes he had. Haruno had fallen asleep in the invisible embrace of JoJo’s Stand, still trembling in fear. Why couldn’t JoJo see that he was only causing more harm in this situation? He was giving the boy a false sense of hope and love for the world. Dio couldn’t allow that. He needed to train Haruno to fight back, to rage against the malignant world he was brought into - a world he shouldn’t have even been brought into in the first place, a world where not even his biological guardians gave a damn about him. 

“Dio? Are you alright?”

But there was little he could do about that now. The past could not be changed, but the present was wide open for modification. But that present solidified all too quickly into the past. Every second in which Haruno felt fear and anguish was a second wasted. He needed to begin defending himself now . Yesterday, even. 

“What’s wrong? Dio? ...Dio?”

There was no room for error. Any wasted time was useless. Useless, useless, useless, useless-

“Dio!”

Strong hands grabbed hold of his shoulders, and Dio found himself inches away from JoJo’s bright blue eyes. 

Dio scowled, his Stand helping him pry away from the unwanted comfort. He leapt to his feet, folding his arms and turning away. "I'm going." He muttered. He needed to compose himself somewhere private. Not here. He needed to step away into the realm of the afterlife, where he was alone. Where no one could see or hear him.

"Wait!" Jonathan called, and Dio was ready to ignore him and disappear, but he stopped when the gentleman continued speaking. "You'll come back tomorrow, right?"

His first instinct was to keep moving, to let JoJo suffer more, to make him despair all over again. But that would be useless. JoJo knew far too much. He wouldn't fall for the same trick twice.

And besides…

Dio glanced over his shoulder, at Haruno, resting in his bed, still shivering despite JoJo's attempts to soothe the boy back to slumber.

Yes, he absolutely couldn't waste any more time. He couldn't change the past, no matter how hard he tried. But there was no use dwelling in it.

The only thing important right now was fixing the present.

He turned back to Jonathan, still watching him with worried eyes. 

He smirked. 

"Perhaps."

Chapter Text

Let him know that you know best

Cause after all, you do know best

Try to slip past his defense

Without granting innocence

Jonathan couldn’t remember the last time he’d truly been happy to see Dio again. He could recall fear and anger - especially in their last few months alive, and even beyond that. It had been so long since he’d last felt happiness around his brother that Jonathan had forgotten that such a time had even existed. 

But today, as Dio crossed the threshold to the living realm, Jonathan was practically brimming with ecstasy. In fact, his emotions had briefly gotten the better of him, and he’d nearly tackled Dio with a warm, welcoming hug. 

“Enough of this.” Dio shouted in protest almost immediately, pushing Jonathan away. “I didn’t come here for your sappy nonsense.” 

“Of course.” Jonathan laughed in embarrassment, pulling away. He’d expected the hostility, yet still he’d hoped it wouldn’t be the case. 

That was the end of that, apparently. Dio walked away from him, standing on the opposite side of Haruno as they walked along the cracked paved path. It was the end of another long and weary school day for little Haruno, and now they were on the long road home. A few weeks ago, Haruno had discovered a secret backroad between his school and the street he lived on, accessible through a dark and dingy alleyway. It let him walk home free from hassle from the other school children, but it was an incredibly dangerous place to be. The only other people who used it wore long dark coats and huddled in the shadows of abandoned buildings, making deals and handing off items in small bags or large boxes. They carried weapons with them wherever they went, and they weren’t afraid to hold them out in the open, or leave traces of blood in the cracks in the ground, a threat to anyone who trespassed on their land. These men knew children walked their streets, and did everything in their power to keep them far away. 

It seemed to work for the most part. Aside from Haruno, there was only one other school boy that used the abandoned road. A boy a few years older than him, with dark black hair and a clean white suit, often ran past them in the deserted streets. Occasionally, he would wave at Haruno, but they never talked. The boy always looked busy, like he was in a rush to get somewhere. He seemed far less scared of the dangerous men in the alleyways, sometimes waving at them as well, or even stopping to talk to them. Jonathan didn’t like the implications of a schoolboy associating with the men in the shadows, and frankly found it much easier on his soul to assume the boy knew them as friendly neighbors rather than cold-blooded criminals.

Jonathan shook his head. He didn’t like thinking about any of that. He needed something to distract himself.

"You didn't miss much while you were gone." He started talking, in an attempt to fill the awkward gap of white noise between him and Dio. "Just the usual deal. School work, classes...and...”

“And?”

“His stepfather lost his job last night, so he's staying home all day."

There was a flicker of emotion on Dio's face. Disgust? Hatred? Jonathan couldn't tell. As soon as he saw it, it vanished completely. 

"He seemed very out of sorts this morning; much more tired than angry. Hopefully he won’t be quite as awful today.” Jonathan finished. 

Dio didn’t reply. His focus was entirely on Haruno now, scrutinizing the boy with his harsh golden eyes. There was something inherently daunting about Dio’s glare. Just seeing those burning eyes made Jonathan feel threatened. 

Even Haruno was beginning to shiver in fear, tugging the fabric of his coat closer to his chest. He curled his shoulders in tight, as he he were attempting to shrug off an unwanted touch

No, wait. 

He was trying to shrug something off. Dio’s Stand was standing next to it, its head leaning over Haruno’s right shoulder. Its amber eyes carried their own awesome glare, analyzing Haruno’s face as though he were a strange new artifact who’s secrets were yet to be uncovered. 

Haruno was clearly unhappy to be in such a position. He was quickly beginning to pick up his pace, as if he were trying to outrun it. The poor boy was clearly distressed, and Jonathan had to do something about it.

“Dio, your Stand.” He broached the subject as politely as possible. From what he could tell, Dio wasn’t aware his Stand was even summoned. 

His prediction was confirmed as Dio's expression morphed from one of confusion to one of embarrassment and anger. “The World!” He shouted, glaring down his Stand. The Stand bent its head up to face him, and for a moment Jonathan swore it looked just like a scolded puppy dog whining at its master, before it solemnly faded away. 

Odd. Jonathan always thought Dio had total control over his Stand, but his reaction seemed to indicate otherwise. Perhaps it was because of its form. Unlike Jonathan’s Stand, it was humanoid. Maybe it acted human as well.

“Just what are you gawking at?” Dio sharply snapped Jonathan back into focus. He’d hardly noticed how long he’d been staring at the place where The World once stood. 

“Sorry, I was just…” Jonathan carefully thought over his words, “...curious.” He decided. “I’ve never gotten a good look at your Stand before.”

Dio grinned, his sharp teeth glistening eerily. “Oh really? Well then, by all means, have another look.” His Stand reappeared at his side, a matching grin on its golden face. 

It really was the perfect Stand for Dio. Its sleek muscular body was painted gold and green from head to toe, with long white cables coiled around its shoulders holding aloft the two large cylinders strapped to its back. There were sundials on the backs of its hands - an interesting detail Jonathan had never noticed before. He wondered if they served any real purpose, or if they were simply decoration. 

“I call it The World.” Dio began. “The strongest Stand in all existence belongs to I, Dio. It’s stronger, faster, and more precise than any other. It’s power to stop time is unrivaled. Not even your descendents could match up to it.”

Well, that last bit didn’t make much sense. If no one could defeat Dio, then how did he die in the first place? Jonathan put it out of his mind, instead focusing on the other description to stand out to him. “It stops time?”

Dio chuckled. “Yes. When I was alive, I could stop time for up to nine seconds at a time, free to do whatever I wished while everyone else remained frozen in place. It was my perfect world - a realm where I truly ruled over all who stood in my way.”

“Really?” Jonathan asked. While part of him felt rightfully disturbed at the thought of Dio wielding so much power, he couldn’t help but find the idea of stopping time very intriguing. “Can you show me?”

Dio’s face hardened. He turned his back to Jonathan. “The world of the dead is timeless. They have no need for my powers, so they’ve prohibited me from using it.”

“Oh…” Jonathan frowned. Was that normal? Were the dead not given the powers of their Stands? Jonathan felt the vines of his Stand wrapping around his wrist, and he wondered what powers they might have had, if he had been able to wield it while he was alive. 

Ah! His Stand!

“I probably ought to show you my Stand as well.” Jonathan laughed. He lifted his left arm up for Dio to see, as the indigo vines spiralled around his skin, almost as if they were proud to be seen. “This is Hey Jude. It-”

“I know what your Stand is.” Dio cut him off short. 

Jonathan blinked in confusion. “You do?”

“Of course.” Dio sneered. “I wore your body for quite some time. I was able to wield both your Stand and mine at the same time.”

A deep pit of blackness sank into Jonathan’s chest, swirling and spinning about and making him feel nauseous. Memories of years spent in anxiety and agony suffocated his mind, clouding his thoughts in a thick fog of fear. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the newly resurfacing pain and return to the present. Dio didn’t have his body anymore, and he would never have it again. His body and his Stand were all permanently his now. 

But still...he just needed to know. “If you had it before then do you know what it did?” There was a slight waver in his voice. He hoped and prayed Dio didn’t hear it.

“I hate to disappoint you, JoJo, but that twisted mess of vines was one of the weakest Stands I’ve ever seen.” Dio answered, much harsher than Jonathan would have liked him to. “It had the power to show me whatever information I desired, transmitting them to me through a camera or a crystal ball.”

Jonathan didn’t see how that was “weak”. Maybe weak as a weapon, as it couldn’t do much other than grab onto things or build barriers out of its branches. But it had a strong grip and a wide range. Plus, the abilities Dio described it having in real life were extraordinary. Limitless knowledge at the tips of his fingers, yet Dio still called it “weak”? He couldn’t understand it.

They continued walking alongside Haruno in silence for a while, and Jonathan noticed Haruno was still recovering from the effects of Dio’s Stand. His shoulders were incredibly tense. His eyes darted about as if watching for some unseen predator. A fierce tremor was coursing through his entire body. It quickly grew too painful for Jonathan to watch, and he stretched out Hey Jude’s soft vines, wrapping them around Haruno’s body in a gentle hug, transferring every thought of peace and comfort he could through their warm grasp.

The vines softly began to glow, wreathed in a gentle purple and gold light. Haruno’s body slowly began to relax, the shaking slowed down to a barely noticeable shiver. 

Dio was watching them the entire time, brows furrowed and mouth hanging open slightly. 

“How are you doing that?” He asked. 

“Oh, this?” Jonathan answered. “I’ve only recently learned it. It seems Stands have a stronger connection to the physical world than we do. They can almost interact with Haruno, in a way. I’m not sure how to describe it but...it’s almost like our Stands can take any emotions or thoughts we have and project them onto him.”

“So when you hold onto him like that, you’re sending him direct thoughts from your brain?”

“Ah, well, not exactly. It doesn’t seem to pick up on anything too complex, or anything like a direct order. Just the emotions."

“Intriguing…” Dio murmured. “So I can assume, then, that when I used The World earlier, I was indirectly doing something like that?”

“Yes.” Jonathan answered. “Though, I should tell you, just because we can communicate or send requests via our Stands, it doesn’t mean we have full control over them. Just a bit of influence.”

“Of course.” Dio muttered. “There’s always some caveat to this whole system, isn’t there? Nothing is allowed to go perfectly in this world.”

Jonathan laughed. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. Everything's a little bizarre here."

To his surprise, Dio started laughing too. There was a smile on his face - just barely visible, one that could easily be misinterpreted as a smug smirk.

It was so unusual to see Dio enjoying himself here, when he rarely showed any genuine enjoyment in anything. It felt refreshing to see something that made him happy. Was it because of Haruno? Was Dio finally starting to warm up to the idea of becoming a father?

Dio’s laugh faded. He narrowed his eyes. “What’s the matter, JoJo?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing!” Jonathan shook his head, smiling back at him. 

“Really now?” Dio tilted his head to one side. “You keep staring ahead with that stupid grin plastered on your face.” 

Jonathan laughed again. “It’s really nothing. I’m just...happy we can be together again. Like this. Without constantly trying to kill one another. It’s nice, for once.”

Dio smirked.

“And it’s nice to see you trying to treat Haruno well.” Jonathan continued. “You’re doing quite well, actually. You’re a better father than anyone else he’s ever had.”

Silence. Dio’s grin disappeared, and he turned away, staring at the rows of abandoned buildings and alleys they slowly walked past. 

“...Dio? Is something wrong?”

More silence. The air between them suddenly felt cold. He finally sighed and shook his head. “No, you’re wrong JoJo.”

Jonathan’s brow creased. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not here to be the boy’s father. I’m here to satiate my curiosities, and nothing more.” Dio answered, his gaze still noticeably distant.

“Wha- What are you saying?” 

“I refuse to be Haruno’s father. Not now, not ever. Trust me, I do not wish to harm the boy. I would never dream of doing such a heinous thing. But I will not become a father to him. You’re already filling that role quite nicely, aren’t you?” 

“I-” Jonathan’s voice fell. He sighed, glancing back at Haruno for just a moment, before nodding. “Yes.”

That title still felt heavy around his neck, but he’d grown more accustomed to it. After Dio left, he’d started to accept himself as Haruno’s only means of protection in the world. If he was the only father left for Haruno, then a father he would be. 

He bit his lip, staring back at Dio. “But I thought with you here, you’d be his father as well.”

“There’s only room for one of us, I’m afraid.” 

“What are you talking about?! There’s no reason why we can’t both be a father to him!”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be a guardian. Nothing more, nothing less. I don’t understand why you’re so worked up over all this. You should be grateful I’m even here at all.”

“Dio, why must you be so-”

“Drop the subject before I make you regret it, JoJo.”

Jonathan stopped, stiffly staring back at Dio. That raw, bitter anger was in his eyes again, cutting him down to his very core. 

“Do not test my patience.” Dio finished, turning his back to Jonathan again. “Now let’s keep walking.”

Jonathan blinked rapidly. He stared at Dio for a moment, watching his fury simmering behind his glower. He had so many questions, but Dio didn’t seem to be in the mood to answer any of them right now.

Dio glared at him out of the corner of his eye. “Well? Are you coming or not?”

“...Of course.” Jonathan replied.

They started walking along the road, silence filling the void between them once again, long into the evening.

Chapter Text

Hear my words that I might teach you

Take my arms that I might reach you

But my words, like silent raindrops, fell

And echoed in the wells of silence

Haruno’s stepfather was, quite fortunately, less terrible that night. He seemed much more interested in shouting at the football match he was watching on the television, rather than shouting at Haruno. He didn’t even acknowledge his presence until later that evening, when he barged into the bedroom completely unannounced. His voice was as rough and callous as always, but there was a damper on it, no doubt because Haruno’s mother was now home.

"Hey, what are you doing?" 

Haruno glanced up from his paper. "I'm doing my homework."

His stepfather glared at him in silence for a moment, then nodded. "Hurry up and finish it. Your mother and I are staying in tonight, and we don’t want any distractions. Finish your homework and get straight to bed. Got it?"

Haruno nodded solemnly.

"Good." His stepfather shut the door, his footsteps echoing down the hallway, followed by the light, cheerful voice he only ever used when Haruno's mother was around. Haruno ignored it, obediently turning back to his homework, wiggling the pencil back and forth in his hand.

Jonathan was sitting cross-legged at his side, completing the assignment alongside him, and occasionally sending the answers through Hey Jude whenever Haruno stuck on something. Dio, meanwhile, leaned against the wall next to the bedroom door, silently glaring daggers into the floor. 

A loud crack of thunder suddenly split the air. Haruno let out a squeal, before quickly clamping his hands over his mouth, letting his pencil roll away under the bed, and curling in on himself. Jonathan’s Stand was out in an instant, wrapping tightly around his shoulders. 

Dio pointed out the window. “There’s a storm coming in. I’m no meteorologist, but it doesn’t look like a lovely autumn shower.” As if on cue, raindrops started pounding against the windowpane, 

Jonathan took a deep breath, fighting back frustration. Of all the nights for this to happen…

Haruno was still shaking in fear. His eyes were glued to the bedroom door, waiting for his stepfather to return, chastising him for disobeying his orders. 

But nothing happened. No one came inside. In the room next door, the TV blared loudly, and his parents laughed.

Slowly, Haruno's shaking began to stop. He tentatively uncurled himself and got down on his stomach, digging underneath the bed for the lost pencil. Yet all he could find was, quite surprisingly, an unusually large worm. Though it hadn’t been the first time he’d found bugs crawling around under there, a worm was certainly a strange addition.

With the pencil nowhere in sight, Haruno got back up and started digging through his other things. It wasn’t anywhere near his school bag, and it hadn’t rolled beneath his dresser. He started to grow frantic as he searched, trying not to search every nook and cranny for his lost pencil without making any sound. 

“It’s okay.” Jonathan murmured, one arm gently “squeezing” Haruno’s shoulder. 

Lightning flashed. Thunder followed once again. The clatter of raindrops on the window grew louder and louder. Haruno wasn’t nearly as scared of it anymore, but each crack of thunder made his shoulders grow tense and his eyes pinch closed for a moment. His left hand was still clamped over his mouth, muffling any possible outbursts. 

The thunder only grew louder. It seemed to be closer now, with less gaps between them. The lights above them flickered once, twice, but continued to burn brightly. 

Jonathan pushed encouragement through Hey Jude’s vines. It’s okay… It’s okay… It’s okay… You’re safe… You’re safe… You’re safe…

Lightning flashed again. The lights flickered once, twice, three times…

A soft buzzing noise cut through the thunder, and the lights sputtered out completely.

Too startled by the sudden darkness to see, Haruno accidentally hit his head against an open dresser drawer, and cried out a bit too loudly. He quickly clamped both hands over his mouth again, staring back at the door. 

There was shouting in the hallway, clearly and unmistakably his stepfather’s.

With no time to waste, Haruno got down on his stomach and rolled under the bed, pushing himself as close to the wall as he could. Jonathan followed close behind, crawling on his knees and pressing his back against the bedroom wall. 

Dio, on the other hand, took slow, careful strides towards the bedroom door, and phasing right through it. Was he leaving? It wasn’t like there was anywhere else for him to go. 

Jonathan considered getting up and seeing where he went, but ultimately decided against it. As much as he wanted Dio to vigilantly stay at Haruno’s side just as he did, he knew he couldn’t force him to do anything. Dio was a man who only followed his own desires, after all. It was better to make sure Haruno had one constant guardian, rather than none. 

The bedroom door opened, and Haruno flinched. No matter how much reassurance and love Hey Jude gave him, it couldn’t stop his violent trembling and short, panicked breathing. 

Haruno’s stepfather took a step inside, his heavy footsteps louder than thunder. His eyes scanned the room, a grimace forming on his lips. “Hey, Haruno! Get out here!”

Panic seized Jonathan’s chest. He couldn’t let this happen again. Not tonight. Not ever. Hey Jude’s grip on Haruno’s shoulders grew tighter, and he forced every thought of staying hidden through the branches. 

“Haruno!” The anger in his stepfather’s voice was stronger now, and it carried a clear warning. 

Suddenly, a large golden arm burst through the center of his chest, its hand curled into a blunt fist. Jonathan stared at it, mouth agape, as the arm twisted about in the center. Haruno’s stepfather, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice a thing. It was as if the arm wasn’t even there. 

Another hand reached up to his neck, fingers flexed like the claws of a wild beast. They dug into his neck, but they provoked no reaction.

A large golden face appeared over his shoulder, teeth bared and eyes alight with what could only be described as a pyre of pure hatred. Jonathan recognized it almost immediately. The World. 

Haruno’s stepfather took a few more steps into the room, with The World still latched onto him, and Dio following close behind. His face was a stone cold emotionless mask, a far cry from his Stand’s apparent anger. 

The World pulled its arm out of his chest, reeled it back, and swung it against his head. 

Once again, there was no reaction. “If you don’t come out right now, I’ll drag you out myself!” Haruno’s stepfather shouted. 

Jonathan’s attempts to keep Haruno down became null and void. Fear was controlling him now. With shaky legs, Haruno crawled out from underneath the bed, and stood himself in front of his stepfather, watching him with wide blue eyes.

“Why didn’t you come out when I first called you?” His stepfather glared down at him.

“I’m sorry...” Haruno mumbled. “I was just scared of the storm.”

“If you disobey me again, you’ll have bigger things to be scared of!”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Haruno repeated, instinctively covering his head. “I won’t do it again. I promise.”

“Hey! Look at me when I’m talking to you!” His stepfather shouted down at him. His hand was raised, ready to strike. Hey Jude was wrapping around Haruno’s body in a protective invisible cocoon. The World grabbed the man’s wrist with both arms, claws digging into his skin. Jonathan looked back at Dio, watching the frustration slowly becoming visible on his face. 

Haruno peeked up between his fingers. “I’m...s- so- s- sor-.” 

“What’s that? Speak up, dammit! I can’t hear you!”

“I- I’m...I’m sorr- sorry…” His voice was so shaky he could hardly speak.

“Say it again. Without the stuttering.”

“I- I- I’m s- s- so-” The roar of thunder filled the air again, and Haruno whimpered, cutting himself off with a squeal before continuing. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” He fell to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest and rocking back and forth.

Before his stepfather could say or do anything, Haruno’s mother was at the door. “Hey! What the hell are you doing in here?”

The anger on his stepfather’s face faded into shock, then sheepish embarrassment. He turned around, laughing. “I was just checking on Haruno! Looks like the power outage and the thunder scared him half to death!” 

“That’s not what I asked you to do.” She folded her arms at her chest. “I asked you to check the breaker box and get the power running again.”

“Aw, but aren’t you worried for the poor little guy?” He lowered his raised palm, roughly tousling Haruno’s hair. “I’m sure he’d like a hug from his momma!”

Jonathan grimaced. The only thing worse than the constant abuse was the way his stepfather tried to cover it up whenever his wife was around. The way he pretended he cared about Haruno was downright nauseating.

“He can cry it out on his own. He has to learn to take care of himself eventually. Useless little brat...” His mother’s voice was just as harsh. “Just leave him alone and get the lights on again. We’re gonna miss the rest of the episode.”

Haruno’s stepfather threw his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’m going.” He slowly walked out of the room, his wife following close behind, leaving the bedroom door hanging open. Their voices echoed down the hallway, until they faded away, leaving only silence.

Dio watched the empty door frame for a moment, before looking back at Haruno, his face still frozen in a murderous glare. His eyes shone bright with white hot fury. Jonathan wondered if he had ever seen him look so angry. He looked as though he was about to shoot those painful beams of light at any moment. Jonathan instinctively clutched his throat and turned away. No… Dio wasn’t going to hurt him. Not while Haruno was here. 

Haruno! Jonathan turned back to his son, still shaking like a leaf on the floor. The combined stress of the storm, the missing pencil, and his stepfather had all twisted together into a knotted web of fear and trapped him inside. His breaths were short and ragged, and tears were forming in the corners of his eyes, but they never fell. He was mumbling under his breath, repeating “I’m sorry” over and over again like a calming mantra. 

Jonathan rubbed his hand in circles on the boy’s back, pushing feelings of calm through Hey Jude. Everything is okay… Everything is okay… Everything is okay… Don't be afraid… Don’t be afraid… Don’t be afraid… 

I’m here… I’m here… I’m here… 

But the panic wouldn’t stop. Haruno was frozen in place, still shaking in terror. No matter what Jonathan did, he wouldn’t calm down. 

Without even realizing it, he’d started humming lullabies out loud, hoping and praying Haruno would hear him. He just wanted to make a difference - to not feel like every action he made was a waste of time. 

“I thought you said our Stands affect the living.” Dio’s voice broke the silence.

Jonathan sighed. “They only affect Haruno. I assume it’s because we have a connection to him. I’ve already tried it before, on his stepfather. It doesn’t work.”

Dio raised an eyebrow, nodding towards Haruno. “Your singing doesn’t seem to work either, yet here you are, trying to calm him down with songs he can’t hear.”

A twinge of anger boiled inside of Jonathan. “It’s helping...in it’s own way.” He said, turning back to Haruno, humming again.

Dio was apparently unwilling to give up the conversation. “Really? You think it’s helping? From what I can see, it’s about as useful as singing to a dead man. He doesn’t even know we’re here.”

Jonathan pulled his hand away, forming a fist at his side. He tried to calm himself. He shouldn’t make a scene now, not after what happened last time. He stood up to meet Dio’s glare head on.

“I don’t care if it doesn’t work.” He finally said. “What matters is that I’m doing whatever I can to comfort him. I did that with George, and I’m going to do it with him as well. No matter what.”

Dio didn’t answer right away. For a moment, Jonathan thought he wouldn’t answer at all, and almost turned back to Haruno. 

But then he continued. “George? Wasn’t that the name of your father?”

Jonathan nodded. “Yes. After I died, and Erina gave birth to our son, she named him after my father.” He smiled slightly, thinking back on the event - how much simpler things had been back then. “I always sang to him, even when I knew he couldn’t hear me.” He paused. “I actually tried to ask him if he could, when I found out Haruno could occasionally see spirits. But he couldn’t remember anything like that.”

There was silence. Dio stared back at him, blinking a few times. His lips were pursed, his brows furrowed. “You met your son? In the afterlife?”

Jonathan frowned. “Yes. Of course I did.”

Dio didn’t say anything. He slowly turned away, shock and confusion still plastering his face. 

It didn’t take long before Jonathan figured out what he was thinking.

“Dio, have you never seen anyone in the afterlife? Not once?” He asked.

Dio’s face hardened. His eyes were dark. “What does it matter? I don’t have any need for anyone else anymore. They’re completely useless to me now.”

“What about your family?” Jonathan asked. “Your mother and father. Surely you-”

“Do you seriously believe I want to see that filthy cur again?” Dio snapped. He whipped back around, glaring at him with such fierce intensity - the same as he’d seen when The World was going after Haruno’s stepfather. 

The same glare he’d seen 100 years ago, when Jonathan found the letter from Dario Brando stowed away in the library, and confronted him atop the stairs. Dio’s words echoed through his mind.

“Swear on his honor? Don’t be ridiculous. That disgusting man had no honor to begin with! He deserved to die!”

Jonathan watched Dio for a moment, now aware of his tense posture - the twitch in his eyes, the grind in his teeth, the way his fingernails dug into his arms like the cold steel of knives, and the freezing cold aura of anger that radiated from his body. How many times had he seen Dio like this before, and assumed it was natural? How long had he believed it was just Dio’s inherently evil ways? 

Pieces were falling into place, and guilt sunk into Jonathan’s chest. 

“I guess not.” He murmured. How could he have not noticed sooner? Dio clearly didn’t like his father, and he carried that same hatred over whenever he saw Haruno’s stepfather. What other reason could it have possibly been? “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Don’t look at me like that.” Dio scowled. “I don’t need any of your pity."

"Well...what about your mother?” Jonathan asked. 

Dio made a low, humorless laugh. “She was a foolish and fragile woman. She believed in goodness and charity and all that useless nonsense. ...If she saw the man I’ve become, she would run away in fear.”

Jonathan considered it for a moment. She didn’t sound nearly as awful as Haruno’s mother. In fact, she sounded rather nice. 

“Have you at least tried to visit her?” He asked. 

“Why would I?” Dio replied. “It would only confirm what I know to be true.”

Jonathan paused, carefully thinking over his next words. “Dio, you and I grew up together, under the same roof. I got to know you better than most people did, and I came to love you as though you were my brother by blood. Even now, after all the wicked and despicable things you’ve done, I cannot shake that feeling. 

“Your mother raised you from the day you were born. She knew you before you ever tried to kill or hurt. She knows you better than anyone, including me. No matter what you’ve done, I don’t think she would fear you.”

Dio didn't respond at first. His face betrayed no emotion, only a distant gaze watching the darkest corner of the room. "Always so optimistic…" He hissed. 

The heavy silence between them returned. Jonathan sighed, turning back to Haruno’s side. At some point during their talk, he’d crawled into bed, resting atop the blankets. His breathing had slowed somewhat, but he was still shaking uncontrollably, his eyes were still glued to the empty doorway, and his hands were gripping the edge of the blanket so hard he was practically tearing into it. Jonathan knelt down beside him, letting Hey Jude’s vines give him an extra boost of encouragement. He warily glanced back at Dio, who had barely moved. His gaze still hovered around the corner of the room, his face hardened as stone. But The World was a few paces behind him, with a worried grimace on its face, its eyes flicking every so often between Haruno and the bedroom wall. 

Jonathan sighed. “I don’t you if you want to continue our chat, but I’m sure it would help if you told me what’s on your mind right now.”

Dio’s attention snapped into focus, his gaze shooting over at Jonathan, then back to the corner. “What reason do I have to tell you?”

“I’m your brother, Dio.” Jonathan continued. “Whatever’s troubling you, I can help with it. Just tell me what it is that you need.”

“Well, for one thing, I don’t need any of your goading .” Dio spat. 

Jonathan pressed his lips together into a firm line. Well, if Dio wasn’t going to cooperate, there was no reason to bother him. He turned away, resting his chin in his hand and watching the ever-shifting shadows of trees in the moonlight. 

“There’s something on your mind. I know it. And I just want to help.” He finally said. “But if you don’t want to talk to me then...that’s alright. Just do what you need to do. Leave if you have to. I won’t stop you.”

Dio didn’t reply.

It was a long time before Haruno was calm enough to fall asleep. By then, Dio was already gone. 

Chapter Text

And I've trained myself to give up on the past 

'Cause I froze in time between hearses and caskets

“Useless, useless…”

Dio drummed his fingers against the armrest of a luxurious velvet chair. He hadn’t put much thought into any of the finer details when he summoned it, only asking for someplace to sit, and the result was an uncomfortable and cheaply made piece of junk. Such a terrible excuse of a chair should have been rejected on the spot, but Dio’s mind was far away from that at the moment. 

The events of tonight had been...unpleasant, to say the least. Haruno’s pathetic stuttering and shaking had been gut-wrenching to witness, and it only further solidified his plan to kill the boy’s parents. It had rattled him, stripped his emotions raw and vulnerable, and only made the ensuing conversation with Jonathan all the more painful to deal with.

“What about your family?”

JoJo never knew how good he had it, did he? He didn’t know it was even possible for a parent to utterly despise their own child, and the child in return. Haruno’s life was a much-needed reality check for him, yet his optimism pushed through anyways. 

“What about your mother? Have you at least tried to visit her?”

No, he hadn’t. There was no reason to, not when Dio knew the result. He knew exactly what type of woman she was - fragile, easily submissive, and too caring for her own good. The kind of woman who married evil men, thinking they could fix them with enough love, enduring all the exhaustion and misery all for a man they foolishly loved. 

When Dio told Jonathan his mother would be afraid of him, that she would run away the minute she saw him, it had been a lie. He knew how she would really react, and he refused to let that happen. 

Dio dug his fingernails into his temples, trying to compose himself. There was no reason to even think about her anymore. His mother was a weak-willed fool who only had herself to blame for getting trapped in a life of misery. Dio didn’t care what she was doing now, nor did he care how she would react. She would be just another human to him - useless and disposable. 

But that was exactly how his father had seen her, hadn’t he?

Damn it all! No matter what he did, it would only gnaw away at his conscience, and right now it looked like finding his mother again was the more favorable option. It loomed at the edges of his mind, luring him in like a trout to the baited hook. The more he thought about seeing his mother again, the more it enticed him. There were thousands of reasons to ignore it, but that single ridiculous idea kept pushing back. Some shred of humanity had been unearthed and spoiled rotten by the months of watching Haruno, and now it was fighting tooth and nail for survival. 

Dio needed to eradicate this feeling as soon as possible. He needed to control himself. Reading would settle his nerves, no doubt. Or perhaps some tea. As soon as he was grounded in reality, he could get back to his plans to raise Haruno into something greater than himself. These human feelings were temporary and useless. They would leave him soon enough.

Just as he was about to get up, his vision landed on The World, staring longingly out into the void. Dio scoffed. Without his full control, his Stand did the most inane things. What on earth was it doing? Why was it so focused on nothing?

Wait... 

No… It was focused on something.

At The World’s feet, and extending off into the distance, was a footpath. 

How long had it been there? He couldn’t say. Was this the way souls traveled through the land of the dead? The instant they thought of another member of the dead, a road magically appeared? Admittedly, that didn’t sound too extraordinary, but he couldn’t believe he hadn’t figured it out sooner. 

If that was the case, then there was only one place this road would lead. 

The World was staring at it, its eyes gleaming with foolish desperation. It glanced over its shoulder, as if expecting Dio to follow. 

Dio scowled at it. Useless thing, still caught up in its human emotions. “I’m not going there.” 

The World didn’t budge. 

Rather, it reached out a hand and grabbed Dio’s shoulder, trying to pull him in.

“Get your hands off me!” Dio pushed away from its grasp, turning away, refusing to face it. He could feel it glaring daggers into his back. 

"It is acting on your deepest desires, Lord Dio.”

If what Enya had said was true, then...no, Dio had to heed the other part of her advice; forget it, curb his thoughts, force his World to focus on no one other than himself… and Haruno… and Jonathan as well, he supposed. But that was it. No one else. 

But...The World had been right about Haruno. It had led Dio to opportunity, and a boy with extraordinary talents. It had saved him from losing his mind inside the solitude of his death.

...Perhaps it was right about this as well.

He turned back around, refusing to make eye contact with The World (it was humiliating to lose a battle to his Stand, the manifestation of his own soul) as he stepped onto the milky white path that lay before him. It felt different beneath his feet than the rest of the ground in hell. It was softer, like walking on the damp earth after a rainstorm, but without the added annoyance of mud staining his shoes, tracking all over the floorboards.

Somehow, that feeling was soothing, and it pushed Dio further. He took a step forward.

Then another…

Then another. 

It was a shorter path than the one leading to the living land, and it was only a few minutes after he started when it dispersed. No longer was he standing on the soft white road, now he stood in...a meadow? Grass sprung up around his feet and all across the clearing. Flowers bloomed in clusters, with brilliant reds and oranges in one patch, and whites and purples in another. The surrounding area was still the ever-familiar fog, but trees had sprung up around the edges, bleeding into the surrounding grey.

It was certainly an impressive display. Dio knew simple objects could be summoned in the afterlife. Had all of this been summoned as well? 

There was a soft, gentle humming sound from the other end of the field. Dio’s shoulders tensed. He promptly shook it off - there was no reason to be afraid of such a simple sound, no reason at all. Slowly, he glanced to his left, following the sound. 

And there was his mother.

Her long golden locks, a color much like his own, fell down to her shoulders in what was a distinctly modern look, ratted and sprayed until it puffed out in every which way, not at all like the hairstyles that were common in her own time. Her dainty pale hands brushed the petals of a delicate pink flower, her fingertips sparkling - actually sparkling - with glittered gold nail polish. She gazed down at her garden, her brown-gold eyes softly highlighted by...was that makeup?

So much about her appearance had changed. She barely looked the same anymore. The dress she wore was the only immediately familiar thing about her. 

That dress… The pink floral dress with faux pearl buttons down the back. It was her most prized possession, one she only pulled out on special occasions. Birthday, Christmas, Easter, Sundays, when the monthly rent was paid off - she wore it whenever she felt there was something to be celebrated, no matter how minor it was. The days when she wore that dress were the only moments of happiness Dio could recall in his childhood. 

She wore the dress that night too - the night of his tenth birthday. The last time he saw her wearing that dress was when he found her body a day later, propped against the wall outside the bakery, cold and dead. 

A chill ran through Dio’s body, and he shook his head, pushing the memories back below the surface. Now wasn’t the time to get caught up in repressed emotions. He was here because The World - his soul - wanted him to be here. For what reason, he didn’t know. Was it purely sentimental? 

Useless. He was wasting too much time standing here. Now was the time. He needed to go through with this. As calmly as he could, he took a step forward, and loudly cleared his throat. 

The humming stopped. “Hmm, who’s there?” Her voice was as warm and pleasant as ever. Slowly, she turned her head over her shoulder. 

Their eyes met. 

Dio felt like he was submerged beneath the waves of the sea. His body felt unnaturally cold, his lungs struggled to get a breath in, and every single one of his limbs was weighed down. A sharp pain burned in his chest, only growing worse the longer he stood there. He opened his mouth to speak, but it caught, and he couldn’t think of anything to say. 

His mother just stared back at him, completely motionless. For a moment, he thought he saw fear in her eyes. The light way they trembled, the way her hand slowly lifted to cover her mouth - she must have been absolutely mortified to see him there. 

She pulled herself to her feet, her voice soft as she spoke. “...Dio?” 

Dio tried to get his mouth to cooperate with him again, but no sound came out. His throat had clogged up. What the hell was going on with him? Why was he suddenly acting so nervous? There was no reason to behave so cowardly. It was beneath him. 

He swallowed the emotions, bitter and nauseating in his throat. “Mother.” He finally spoke. That was all he could manage. Really? Was that the best he could do? He was the almighty Dio! Words had never been a challenge to him. His silver tongue had gotten him out of countless scraps in the past, so why was it failing him now? All he could do was stand there, enduring the constant pain throbbing in his chest, unable to force his legs to move forward either.

His mother took a step toward him, tentatively, then another, until she was directly in front of him. She reached up to his jaw, cradling it in one hand, brushing her thumb against the three moles on his left ear. 

She smiled. “It’s been so long…” 

Before Dio could object, his mother had pulled him into a tight embrace. Her arms wrapped around his waist, her head burying itself in his chest. She was so much shorter now. The last time he had seen her, he just barely came up to her shoulders. Now he towered over her, and she had to stand on her toes to reach him.

“I didn’t think I would ever see you again...” She murmured. “I’m so sorry. I should have saved you when I still had the chance.”

Of course she was. Of course she was still submissive, blaming even Dio’s own actions on herself. He hadn’t expected anything different, but he’d wished she’d at least get a little bit of sense. “You have nothing to apologize for.” He closed his eyes. “Everything I’ve done has been my choice. You wouldn’t have made any difference.”

All that did was make his mother squeeze him tighter. “I know, I know. It’s all… It’s all in the past now. But I just...I wish I could’ve been stronger for you...back then.” 

Why was she so insistent that it was her fault? Dio scowled, wondering if he should leave now. He couldn’t see The World from his position, but he knew it had followed him here, and it was probably watching this entire exchange. Was this what it wanted? Just a simple hug? He couldn’t deny how strangely nice it felt, being held like this again, but it was foolish in the end. 

After the overly long and unnecessary greeting, his mother pulled away, almost unwillingly, and smiled back at him. “Why don’t you come sit with me for a while?”

Dio wasn’t sure how to reply. Saying absolutely not would get him nowhere, but saying of course was out of the question as well. Willingly going along with this was giving into weakness. He should have been the one to make the suggestion, not her. What was he supposed to do now? 

He felt his mother’s hand touch his shoulder. “Is something wrong?” She asked. There was concern in his voice, maybe even a bit of pity, and Dio wanted none of it. He wasn’t a child anymore. He shouldn’t be treated like this. He was above mortals. No human should be allowed to lay a finger on him.

His annoyance was slowly turning into anger, and he quickly forced himself to stay calm.

“Are you feeling alright?” His mother prodded gently. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing.” He snapped, much harsher than he intended. He quickly shut his mouth to prevent anything else from coming out. 

His mother’s brow creased with worry. “Dio, tell me what’s wrong. Please. I can help.”

Why did she still want to help him? He didn’t need any of her help. Why was she like this? Why did she always have to view every single person she met on the street as an individual charity case? Why did she care so much, when all it gave her was pain?

“Something’s bothering you.” Her hand touched his cheek. “If you just-”

Dio reflexively grabbed her wrist, clenching it tightly in his fingers. “Don’t-” He glared at her for a moment, before letting go, grimacing at himself. 

He had lost control here long ago. What little grasp he had on his emotions was slipping fast. He needed to get out of here while he still could. Maybe he could come back later-

No. He had to do this now. Whatever this was anyways. The World deemed it was important, and it hadn’t been wrong before. Slowly, he forced himself to meet his mother’s gaze again, attempting to slide a mask of neutralness over his face, but it felt much too forced.

His mother’s brow furrowed, her eyes flickering with...fear? Sorrow? The confusion was gone, and replaced by something else, but for once Dio wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was a mix of the two.

“I understand.” She finally said. “You don’t have to sit with me, if you don’t want to. But…” she smiled, “I’d certainly appreciate some company. It’s been far too long. I want to know how my only son has been doing all this time.” 

She gently clasped her small hand inside his. Dio tensed, and for a moment he thought of flinching away. But her fingers were warm, and… what was the word? Comforting, almost, but not quite. Comfort implied the neediness and loneliness of human want, and Dio had not wanted such a thing in centuries. He’d surpassed it. He could never want for a human’s care again.

He could never…

Yet...he couldn’t force himself to push away. Not quite yet. It had been so long since he’d experienced this familial touch. Something inside him stirred, something strange and primitive, and he was...fascinated by it, though that word didn’t quite sound right. But whatever it was, it calmed his nerves, and he willingly let his mother gently pull him across the field, towards the small dirt patch she’d been resting in when he first arrived, and knelt down next to her. 

Silence returned between them. His mother busied her hands in the garden, smoothing out dirt around the flowers and brushing her fingers over their petals. Dio sat beside her, one knee bent upwards, propping his elbow up as he rested his chin in his hands, doing his best to keep a stoic appearance. If anyone else came and saw him in this pathetic state...well, without the ability to kill anymore, Dio wasn’t sure what he’d do. 

But maybe an interruption right now wouldn’t be that bad, because the dead silence in the air was growing stiff and uncomfortable, and Dio was about ready to snap. He kept himself level-headed by restarting the conversation. “You’ve changed.”

“Really?” His mother seemed surprised, tilting her head in his direction. “What do you mean?”

“Your hair.” He said. “And your nails. Where did you even learn how to do...all that.”

She made a girlish little laugh. “Do you like it?” She twirled her head slowly back and forth like a model. 

“Not really, no.”

“Well, that’s quite rude. Where are those manners I taught you?”

“It’s not disrespectful if it’s the truth, and the truth is that it looks hideous.”

“Oh really? Well, I haven’t said anything about your bright green lipstick this entire time even though it’s certainly far from flattering.”

Dio grimaced, rubbing his fingers over his lips, fighting down a wave of embarrassment and insult. 

His mother smiled, wrapping her arm around his shoulder. “I was just joking. You can wear whatever you want, as long as you let me do my hair how I like it.”

Dio folded his arms. “That wasn’t even my point in the first place. I wanted to know where you learned all these modern fashion trends.”

“My friend Sherry showed me them.” She answered. “She knows all the newest fashion trends, though I must say most of them are quite odd. They let so much skin show, and they’re all so bright and colorful it hurts my eyes a little bit. They’re even letting women wear pants now! Did you know that? I can’t believe we didn’t start doing that ages ago!”

Dio didn’t bother addressing the fashion comments. “Sherry?”

“I only met her just recently. I doubt you’d know her; she’s French, and she died rather young. But she’s a remarkable young woman. She told me she’s always wanted to become a writer, and she’s very good at it too. Perhaps I should ask her if I can show you some of her work. Although…” She paused, and her voice grew quieter. “I’m not sure how she’d feel, if she knew… There’s a lot of rumors about you here, and…”

Dio arched an eyebrow. “Rumors?”

Her eyes fell, hands dropping to her lap. “...I’d been hoping I could talk to you about that, actually. I haven’t seen you in a long, long time - almost a century, I’ve heard. That night, when you put on the stone mask, my connection to the living world broke off.” She pressed her hand against her chest. “I don’t know what happened after that, but...the things I’ve heard haven’t been pleasant.”

Ah, so the tether between death and life was severed when Dio rejected his humanity. That made sense. Now came the difficult decision of whether or not he should tell her. Would confirming her fears only make her more afraid of them? The rumors hadn’t stopped her when they reunited, but that could have very well been denial. 

Well, there would be no use hiding it from her anyways. Might as well come clean and see how she would react. “The mask turned me into a lifeform far more powerful than any human could dream to be. I used my newfound powers to hunt and kill Jonathan Joestar with my own two hands, and use his body as my own. I drained the blood of countless worthless souls, increasing my power and strength and using it to build myself higher and higher to achieve my goals. I was practically invincible by the time I was dragged down into hell.”

He watched his mother’s face, waiting for the signs of horror or sorrow. She closed her eyes, holding her hands together in her lap, trembling ever so slightly.  

“If you want me to leave now, I will.” Dio continued. “I’ll never bother you again. Death has left me unable to pursue my original plans, so I can assure you I have no intentions to bring harm to you or anyone else you may know.”

Her eyes opened, and she stared back at him, eyes wide and glistening. Her mouth hung open slightly, but no sound came out. She just sat there, mutely staring at him. 

Then suddenly, she… smiled.

“Well, at least I know you’re not a liar on top of all that.” She said. “I’m glad at least something I taught you stuck through.”

Dio clenched his teeth. Of course she still accepted this, even after all this time. Nothing had changed. Foolish, hopeful woman.

“I’d be happy if you stayed here, actually.” She continued. “I’ve so much more to ask you about.” 

Dio’s instincts were telling him to leave. He’d proven himself correct - his mother was still weak-willed and accepting of everyone regardless of what they’d done. She was foolish. She hadn’t changed. Dio was becoming his father again-

“So tell me,” His mother continued, “how long have you been here? Was it just recent?”

Dio didn’t answer for a moment, still caught up in anger, still itching to leave. But his mother’s expectant gaze prodded him forward. “It’s been a few years.” 

She frowned. “All by yourself?”

“It’s not dreadfully lonesome.” He crossed his arms across his chest. “I’ve kept myself busy, and my Stand is always with me.”

Before Dio could even realize his mother probably didn’t know what he was talking about, her eyes suddenly lit up with excitement. “You’ve got a Stand!”

Dio blinked in confusion. “You know them?”

“There’s lots of Stand users here.” She explained. “Some of them even knew you. They wouldn’t tell me anything about yours however. They said it was some big secret not even they knew about. But I’ve seen plenty.”

“That’s impossible.” He scoffed. “Only Stand users can see other Stands.”

“Really? That’s not how it works here. In fact…” She craned her neck out, peering over Dio’s shoulder. “Is that it right over there?”

Dio turned around, and sure enough, The World was hovering in place a few feet away from them. 

His mother didn’t seem perturbed by its threatening appearance. “Hello there!” She waved at it. “Come sit with us!”

Without any command from Dio, The World floated over to his mother’s side and knelt down in front of her. It leaned in close to her face, until they were practically nose to nose.

“Oh, goodness!” His mother laughed. “He’s very eager, isn’t he?”

Dio was still trying to wrap his head around the idea that Stands were visible to everyone in this world. Admittedly, it wasn’t the strangest adjustment he’d encountered, but it was his Stand. No one else was allowed to see it. Jonathan and Haruno were the only exceptions - there wasn’t much he could do to avoid that - and perhaps he’d allow his mother to see it, just this once. But other than that, it was a secret to be guarded, a hidden weapon only to be feared. His World was one of perfection, and no one could invade it. The thought of some unworthy fool seeing his Stand and all the deep hidden parts of his soul it manifested made his gut twist. 

The World clearly didn’t reciprocate his feelings. Its face became softer, more peaceful, and it did nothing to stop the feeble attempts Dio’s mother made at showing love. She pressed her fingers against its face, on its hands and shoulders, but they all slid through like butter. Even so, Dio could feel the ghost of her gentle touch on his own skin, and its warmth brought some degree of comfort to his troubled mind. 

“What’s his name?” His mother asked. 

“The World.” Dio said. 

“The World...” She gave a few light pats to the top of the Stand’s head, and much to Dio’s chagrin, it closed its eyes and leaned into the touch.

“That’s enough.” He snapped at it. “The World, return to me.”

“Oh no, it’s alright. You don’t have to worry about him hurting me at all.” His mother smiled. “I’ve interacted with a few Stands here before. Yours is much nicer than some of the others I’ve met. He’s quite gentle- oh!” She suddenly laughed as The World wrapped its arm around her shoulder. She smiled and returned the gesture as best she could. “You must have been a good guardian to my son. He hasn’t had a very happy life. I’m glad someone as kind as you could step in when I couldn’t be there for him.”

Heat was rising up in Dio’s face, and he quickly turned away. “The World!” He shouted, much more forcefully. 

His Stand didn’t return to him, but he could feel it floating away, standing off to the side. 

“It’s alright, Dio.” He felt his mother’s arm wrap around him, and fought the urge to shake it off. “He wasn’t hurting anything... Oh!” 

Dio felt her hand touch his chest, felt her fingers slide through the golden chain around his heart. 

“You’ve had a child.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. She squeezed her arm tighter around him. 

Dio gripped the rope and pulled it away, as if somehow putting it out of sight would prevent her from asking any more questions. “It’s none of your business.”

“I’d think it would be.” She folded her arms. “I’d like to know a bit more about my new grandchild, and how well you’re faring as a father.”

“I’m not-” Dio nearly shouted at her, but stopped himself. He was not his father. He would never be his father. With a deep breath, he began again. “I’m not his father. JoJo is. I conceived the child with his body. My role is nothing more than a guardian or mentor. Nothing more.” Nothing more...

“Oh! Is Jonathan there with you then?” His mother asked. “How is he doing?”

“Same as ever.” Dio chuckled. “Blindly driven by his emotions. He never seems to leave the living world, and it’s taken a toll on his spirit. He’s dedicated to staying by Haruno’s side until things get better for him, so it seems.”

“Haruno?”

“That’s the boy’s name. Haruno Shiobana.”

“That’s quite a name!” 

“He’s half-Japanese.”

“Really? How did you come to meet his mother?”

Dio paused, thinking over his words carefully. “...She was a visitor at my mansion. We only ever met once.”

“Ah…” His mother frowned. 

“What? What is it?” Dio asked, his voice a bit harsher than it should have been.

“Nothing… I’d just hoped you’d finally found someone to settle down with, I suppose.” She shook her head. “So then, tell me about Haruno!” 

“He’s intelligent.” Dio began. “He’s a very smart boy for his age. But he’s much too timid and submissive, however, and I wish he’d finally learn to stand up for himself rather than allow people to walk all over him. His mother and stepfather are vile and rotten people, his peers equally so. He has no one to properly guide him in life. No one except myself, of course. I intend to use my Stand to make him a ruler over all mankind, a king over all kings.” Yes, he’d already decided it. He would find Pucci and achieve the heaven Dio could never attain in life. His plan would finally come to fruition. “He already realizes the faults of love and affection. All I need do is push him in the direction of greatness.”

His mother was silent, taking in all of his words. “Is that really...what you think?”

“Of course.” He said. 

“And...why is that?”

“Love and emotions are useless things, only meant to be used as tools. They serve only as hindrances to one’s judgement. They make even the strongest fall down to weakness. The pain brought about by these useless feelings is something I’ve cut off from myself completely.”

More silence. A smile slowly crept up on his mother’s face. “Is that so? Because you sound like you love your son quite a lot.”

Dio tensed, digging his nails into his coat sleeves. “I do not.”

Her eyebrows raised. “You’re clearly more concerned for his well-being than anyone else. You want to see him grow up strong and successful, and you’re taking initiative to do so. I’d say that counts as love.”

“Nonsense.” Dio scoffed. 

But she was right. That was exactly what he was doing. He’d allowed himself to grow too soft and caring. He’d fallen from grace as soon as he let his emotions take hold of The World. 

Dio had hardly noticed how tense he’d gotten until he felt his mother’s warm hands take hold of his own.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Dio.” She said. “Emotions are what make us stronger. Caring for others, protecting them through all the strife you face, that is what makes you the strongest person you can be.”

That wasn’t possible. Her words were nonsense. Strength came only with a stony expressionless mask and an iron grip on the world.

“Your son would be much happier with someone to rely on for comfort. He needs the love of a father to-” 

“I am not his father.”

“His guardian, then. He needs the love of someone who cares for him to truly grow strong.”

“I think I know what is best for my child.”

“And I know what’s best for mine.” His mother answered firmly. “Dio, look at me.” Her soft brown-gold eyes stared into his. “You’ve always kept things under wraps, and it’s hurt you so much. I can see it plain as day. You truly love your son, and from what you’ve told me, it sounds like he needs that love more than anything else right now.”

Dio glared back at her coldly. “Love only brings misery and pain. You of all people should know that.”

His mother’s eyes wided, her mouth hanging open ever so slightly. “Is that what this is all about…?” She asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

“After everything that rat bastard you called a husband did to you, you still stayed by his side. You thought you could change him into some upstanding member of society when he clearly never was one in the first place! Yet you stayed by his side, and now look where it got you.”

“Dio, that’s-”

“Even now, an entire century later, your foolish human emotions are hurting you. You know the type of man I have become. You’ve seen it firsthand, haven’t you? Yet you still treat me as if nothing is wrong, as if I’m some broken boy who can be fixed. I’ve never needed any of your coddling. I became who I am today of my own volition. Nothing you could have done would have stopped me.”

“Dio, please-”

“If there’s anyone you should be worried about fixing, it’s yourself, because you’re clearly mentally damaged if you think I’m in any need of assistance when I’m the rational one. It’s like you didn’t even learn! It’s like you don’t even care what happens to you anymore-”

“That’s enough!”

Suddenly, his mother’s arms wrapped around him, and pulled him into a tight hug. Her face was buried in his chest, her hands shaking as she gripped him tight. “Dio… You’re breaking my heart, Dio.” Her voice was choked by the ghost of unshed tears. 

“There you go again.” Dio hissed. “Always giving into your emotions. So pathetically useless…”

“Stop it…” She muttered, only squeezing him tighter. “Please. You don’t understand. Everything I did...I never did it for your father.”

“Really now? All the times you insisted he quit drinking were for your benefit then?”

“It was for you! Everything I did was to help you live a better life. I hated seeing the life you’d been born into, watching you suffer every single day… I’d be a horrible mother if I didn’t try to make things better for you. I wish I could have done more, but we were stuck where we were. We had nowhere to go. Maybe it would’ve been better if I ran away with you, but there were so many dangers out there, and I didn’t know if I could ever find a new job, or earn enough money to keep the both of us alive. There were too many concerns, so I decided it would be best if I tried to make things better for you at home.”

She took a deep, ragged breath, still shaking like a leaf around him. “Call me weak all you want, but what I did for you back then was the strongest I could have possibly. I protected you because I knew it would be better for you to sleep in a warm bed rather than on the streets. I gave you love because I wanted you to feel happiness despite everything that happened to you. Seeing you happy was all that mattered to me. You needed my help then, and you still need it now. You aren’t like your father. He never had any good in his heart, not even before you were born. But you...you might have changed, but the boy I raised is still there, deep in your core. I can see it plain as day.”

His mother pulled away, looking directly back at him with reddened eyes. “I’m not condoning anything you’ve done. I still wish you could’ve been a better person, but I know one thing: you are a better father to Haruno than your father ever could have been. You care about him dearly, and he needs that right now more than anything. I was there for you when you were struggling. Now you need to do the same for him.”

Warmth flooded Dio’s chest again, to the point of bursting. She was wrong. She had to be. There had to be some sort of delusion. Clearly she had been blinded by love. There was no other explanation. But the longer the word sank in, the more they made sense. Perhaps she was right. But no. She wasn’t. She had to be wrong. She was just as deluded as Jonathan. The both of them were fools, and he had been spending too much time around them if he was seriously considering anything they were saying. 

Dio felt his mother’s hand gently clasp his, and he stared down at it. They were pale and clean. Not a single scar or bruise was in sight. He turned to look at her, at the spots on her skin where he knew old scars would lay. But there was nothing but smooth skin in their place. 

No, wait. Upon closer inspection, they were still there. Faint pink lines and blots on pale white skin, right where they always had been. They’d faded now, still visible but faint. The dark circles under her eyes were also less pronounced. Her face was fuller, much less pallid and sickly. Her eyes were still bright, shining with useless optimism. She still was the same woman. But there was something else, something new. Death had done something to her. 

“Please.” She said. “Just try it. I know you don’t want to. I know you’re just as stubborn as you always were. But please...promise me you’ll try to help him.”

Dio stared back at her for a minute or so, mulling over the options in his head. 

If he wanted things to get better for Haruno...

His lips curled into a smirk. “Very well then. I suppose I can try your methods out.”

His mother’s eyes lit up.

“But don’t get your hopes up.” He said. “I’m not human anymore. I doubt I could evoke anything other than fear in his heart.”

She smiled. “I think you can do it.” Her arms wrapped around him again, and she buried her face in his shoulder. “You’re not as monstrous as you think you are.” 

Dio said nothing in return. The string in his chest burned bright with warmth, but it did not hurt him. There was no pain. Only warmth. 

Chapter Text

Out on the ocean sailing away

I can hardly wait

To see you to come of age

It was not quite dawn when Dio returned to Haruno’s bedroom. Thin trails of moonlight seeped in through the curtain were the only source of light. The rain had stopped falling by now, but some stray droplets still clung to the windowpane. Jonathan was asleep against the wall, right next to Haruno’s bedside, where the little boy was still trembling from head to toe. 

There was nothing out of the ordinary. Normally, Dio would stand off to the side and watch silently, or head back and wait until morning came. But tonight was different. If he was going to make an effort to be more present in Haruno’s life, he’d need to start as soon as possible. No putting it off. Dio surveyed the space next to Haruno’s bed. Jonathan was taking up a rather large portion from the headboard and halfway down, but there was still plenty of space on the other half. He slowly stepped forward, as if on tiptoe, trying not to make a single sound, and knelt down next to the bed. 

Now that he was closer, he could more clearly see Haruno’s terror. His face was contorted in discomfort, eyes squeezed shut tightly, lips trembling as he pressed them together so hard they were losing their color. His whimpers were muffled, but still audible despite his unconscious attempts to suppress them. 

Watching him made pain and anger bloom in Dio’s chest, reminding him of the nights when he too was scared of the dark, curled beneath the covers, shaking and sobbing, afraid of some unusual sound or shadow hidden in the darkness. His mother would always come to his bedside, kneeling down beside him, singing lullabies, soothing him to sleep. 

Well, he wasn’t about to stoop to such sappy nonsense, but he knew a way to calm Haruno down a bit. He summoned The World at his side, its arms reaching out to hold onto Haruno, when he suddenly pulled back. The past few times The World had connected with Giorno, it had not provoked any good emotions. Jonathan never seemed to have that problem. His Stand only comforted and protected Haruno. What made him so special? What allowed him to use it so freely on the boy?

The answer was obvious. Dio didn’t even need to cast a glance at Jonathan, to see his tired smile on his lips or the vines of his Stand still reaching out unconsciously, in order to solve his riddle. Jonathan wore his heart on his sleeve like a badge of honor. He loved freely, without care, without guard, and it had naturally reflected through his Stand. Dio, on the other hand, naturally shielded and masked all his emotions. If he wanted to use his Stand to help Haruno, he’d have to mimic Jonathan and be open with his emotions. 

In fact, his mother had told him something similar just as he was about to leave. “It needs to be genuine. Genuine love is what makes a child grow up healthy. You can’t fake it or force it. It has to be real. But I’m sure you won’t take any issue with that.”

Dio, despite all appearances, did take issue with that. Manipulating Haruno into trusting him would be easy, but using his deepest thoughts and emotions and laying them bare for all to see? That was dangerous. His subject of his affections could use them against him, tilting the situation until Dio no longer held ultimate control. Any soft spots were a liability once they were out in the open. They were useless! Useless, useless-

...This was ridiculous. Why was he getting so worked up over this? Haruno was just a child. A smart child with unlimited potential for greatness, but a child nonetheless. The boy was afraid of his own shadow. If trust or affection came his way, he’d lap it all up without even thinking of how to use the opportunity to gain power.

In fact, even after Haruno grew beyond his life of shame, even after he one day came to rule the world and obtain heaven...how would he possibly hurt Dio? In his current state, Dio was more invincible than he had ever been. He was completely unkillable, untouchable, immortal. He still had some control over the living world, hidden in plain sight. No man could defeat him, let alone a small child trembling in his sleep. 

Dio closed his eyes and leaned back, readying himself, lowering the mask. Illogical anxieties still clung to his mind, that feeling of vulnerability, but he pushed them away. He was stronger than them. They were useless. He let his carefully hidden feelings rise to the surface, letting them seep through the cracks. Slowly, he opened his eyes again, feeling different, yet somehow the same. Carefully, he lowered The World’s hand onto Haruno’s back, and let those emotions cross over. 

Haruno tensed for a moment, but he didn’t seem afraid. The fear contorting his face softened, slowly, hardly noticeable.

“You are safe.” Dio mentally pushed the thought through his Stand. “There is no reason to fear. You are safe as long as I am with you.” The fearful tremble wracking Haruno’s body slowed. His face softened, but his brows still creased in worry. “Go to sleep. Nothing can hurt you as long as I am here.”

For a moment, Dio thought Haruno was about to fall back asleep. His shaking ceased altogether, and he seemed relaxed. But just as The World began to pull its hand away, Haruno reached his arm out, as if reaching out, trying to pull it back. His fingers waved about blindly in the dark, fingers slipped through The World’s golden arm, desperately trying to hold on. His eyes blinked opened groggily. He slowly glanced around the room, spotting The World’s arm first, then drifting to the side, until he was face to face with Dio.

Dio laughed quietly. “Well now, it’s a little early to wake up. Lie back down. It’s hardly dawn.”

Haruno continued to stare at him, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Dio frowned. Could Haruno see him now?

Suddenly, the boy’s eyes widened, and there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Yes, he could definitely see him. Panic briefly flitted through Dio’s heart. Had Haruno recognized him from his scuffle with Jonathan? Was he afraid of him again? Would he trust Dio now, knowing what had happened? 

He needed to soothe those worries before they spread, establish himself as someone who could be trusted. “You recognize me, don’t you? You have no reason to fear, Haruno. I understand my appearance is rather intimidating, but I have no intention of hurting you. Quite the opposite actually.”

Haruno sat up, slowly pulling the covers off of himself. He reached under his pillow, pulling out a square photograph, unable to be fully seen in the dark. He stared at it for a moment, clutching it tightly in his hands, hugging it to his chest, then turning around and holding the photo out for Dio to take. 

Dio stared into the square picture frame, squinting in the dim lighting. The photograph was dark, only lit up by a camera’s flash, but it was enough to see his own face staring back at him, Jonathan’s body below his neck. 

“Ah, so you know who I am then?” Dio asked.

Haruno nodded and pushed the picture out further. Did he want Dio to take it? “You don’t need to give it back.” He slid his hand through the paper. “I couldn’t even take it from you if I wanted.”

Haruno stared at Dio’s hand, mystified. He reached out to touch it, and his fingers slid through the transparent arm like butter. The flicker of hope in his eyes dashed away, and his arm went limp at his side.

“Unfortunately, I haven’t come here to whisk you away from this awful place.” Dio continued. “I’m sure that’s what you wanted, right? For me to finally come and save you from those dreadful people who call themselves your parents?”

Guilt washed over the boy’s face. He hung his head and his body began to tremble again as he curled in on himself. Was he embarrassed for being read so easily, or afraid of being punished for thinking such useless thoughts? Probably both.

“Look at me.” Dio said, and briefly wondered if he sounded too harsh or demanding. Haruno tilted his head back up to face him, eyes and mouth scrunched up as though he was about to cry. 

Dio placed a hand on his shoulder, and The World’s arm summoned inside his, transferring all the strength and confidence it could through its grip. “This world has not been kind to you. It was not kind to me either, when I was a child. But I learned from it. I fought my way out of the sorry lot life had given me and became more powerful than I could have ever dreamed of. You can do the same. You’re stronger and smarter than you know yet.”

Haruno placed his smaller hand on his shoulder, overlaid with Dio’s and The World’s. He looked down at it, where the soft fabric around his collar was beginning to slip, revealing the deep purple star. He stared back at Dio, fixating on his broad shoulders, curious. 

Ah, right. The photograph would’ve shown him that as well. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have it anymore.” Dio said, shaking his head. “It belonged to a man named Jonathan Joestar.” He nodded his head in JoJo’s direction. 

Haruno looked at Jonathan, then back at Dio, and tilted his head in confusion. 

“It’s a rather long story.” Dio continued. “But I assure you that man is just as much of a father to you as I am.”

The word slipped out carelessly, without any thought. A small stir of panic hit him as he thought over the words, but he quickly brushed it aside. He was not his father, and he never would be. 

“Jonathan is a good man, though he doesn’t understand your struggle the way you and I do. Even so, he loves you dearly. and he’ll be here to protect you no matter what.” 

Dio paused for a moment, before continuing. “I’ll be here to protect you as well. Though you might never see us, I assure you we will always be at your side.”

Another sentence came to mind. A firm truth, only a few words long, but so strong and emotional and dangerous that he wasn’t quite ready to put into spoken word. But he let it linger in his mind, let it slip through into The World, through its strong golden hands, and down into Haruno. 

Haruno looked back at him. His blue eyes wide, watering up. His mouth pursed open slightly, lower lip trembling. He looked scared, shocked, vulnerable, begging. 

Dio nodded.

The tears spilled over, and Haruno pressed his hands against his mouth as he choked back a sob. Dio gently pressed The World’s hand further into the boy’s shoulder. “You have no reason to cry. Not while I am here. Close your eyes and drift away into sleep.” He let the secret sentence, his secret promise, slip again into Haruno’s mind, reaffirming its truth. 

Haruno nodded, still fighting back hiccups and sobs, and curled up on the mattress, tiny body pressed against Dio’s ghostly form. They stayed that way for a long time, The World rubbing small circles on Haruno’s back, soothing him with thoughts of comfort, while Haruno slowly but surely worked through his tears and drifted soundly into sleep. 

There was a quiet gasp from behind him. Dio turned around, face to face with Jonathan, who was watching them, wide eyed, mouth agape. How long had he been awake? 

Dio crooked an eyebrow. “Is there a problem, JoJo?”

Jonathan was frozen for a moment, stunned into silence. He slowly shook his head. “No… There’s no problem at all.” He knelt down next to Dio. “I just didn’t expect you to be back so soon. And, well…” He gestured at Haruno.

“He woke up from a nightmare, and you clearly weren’t going to help him.” Dio said, a mockingly accusatory tone in his voice. “So I used The World to calm him down and he went right back to sleep.”

“So I see.” Jonathan said, still clearly in shock.

Dio smirked. “He likes me better than you, you know.”

Jonathan laughed. “Really now?”

“He recognized me from that little photograph he has.” Dio pointed at the photo lying next to Haruno on the bed. 

“I saw that.” Jonathan murmured. “But I don’t see how that makes you the favorite.”

“Has he fallen asleep next to you like this?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

“Then it’s obvious he prefers me to you.”

“If you say so.” Jonathan laughed again and shook his head. He paused for a moment, silent, then: “I’m glad you’re back, Dio.”

“Oh? What could possibly make you think I’d leave here forever?” Dio asked.

“I don’t know. I suppose after you left my mind jumped to conclusions.” Jonathan shrugged. 

Another smirk grew on Dio’s face. There was no malice in it. “As if I would give up my own son. You think far too little of me, JoJo.”

Jonathan stared back at Dio. His brow furrowed, his lips pursed. Confusion burned in his eyes, like he was lost in a tangled web of thought.

“Oh dear, what is it now?” Dio rolled his eyes. “What are you staring at me for this time?”

Jonathan blinked, his expression slowly softening. “Nothing. I’m just…” A smile filled his features. “I’m happy to see you like this.” 

Dio laughed. “Don’t get too comfortable now.”

It was strange, how he felt like he was molding into this role so quickly, how he hardly felt annoyed by Jonathan’s banter. His mother was rubbing off on him, surely. But maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. A little bit of this was fine, after all. He felt like he could go on like this forever, with JoJo, The World, and Haruno.

Haruno…

Dio stared back down at Haruno, resting easy now, curled up in a tiny ball. There was no more sadness or fear in his eyes. Instead, a small smile was on his lips.

Warmth burned in Dio’s chest, stronger than anything he’d felt before. It felt similar to the warmth of his mother, but somehow different. It was more powerful, more vibrant, and it filled him full to bursting. It was pride, but not pride in himself (well, perhaps a little bit). But this pride felt different, like taking pride in an achievement or victory, but stronger, with affection.

The words came to mind again. Those three simple words. 

He smiled. 

Not his usual, callous smirk; there was no animosity here. A smile.

He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Haruno would become someone great. He would grow stronger and more powerful than any man alive today. He would rise about mankind. Yes, Haruno was destined for greatness, no doubt about it.

Haruno was Dio’s son, after all.

His son...

He felt no fear accompanying that statement. Haruno was his son. He was Haruno’s father, and he would guard his son with every waking moment of his eternal afterlife. 

What was so frightening about that?

Chapter Text

Fortune gonna come one day, and it's all gonna fade away

Your daddy the war machine

And your mama the long and suffering

Prisoner of what she cannot see

The day Haruno’s life changed for the better was completely innocuous, at least until the walk home from school.

Jonathan and Dio had been idly chatting - what about, Jonathan couldn’t remember. He just remembered noticing Haruno had suddenly stopped walking, staring at something in the alleyway behind them.

“Haruno, what’s the matter?” Jonathan asked, not expecting an answer. He walked back to Haruno’s side, placing a hand on his shoulder, following Haruno’s line of sight with his own eyes, and…

He paled. 

There was a man collapsed against the wall between the buildings, dressed in a long dark coat - one of the shadowy men who used the street for their dark deals. Blood was spilling out of wounds on his arms and torso. His chest was heaving, his body twitching in pain as he struggled to get back up, before collapsing back on his side.

It was a horrific sight. Jonathan had seen people die before, but not as desperate or painful as this. He felt his stomach crawling, but it felt wrong to turn away, even if there was nothing he could do to help. Nothing that could save this man from his fate. 

“Leave him alone, JoJo.” Dio was standing behind them now. “Bullet wounds like that don’t come from a simple suicide. Whoever shot this man is probably still nearby, and if they saw Haruno around this I doubt they’d simply let him go.”

Jonathan grimly nodded. Hey Jude crawled out from his wrist and nudged Haruno’s shoulder gently. 

But Haruno didn’t respond. He was surprisingly calm, staring back at the injured man with a curious expression, more intrigued by the man’s unfortunate circumstances than scared. 

Footsteps and angry voices echoed from around the corner, steadily drawing closer.

“Haruno, we need to go.” Jonathan urged, attempting to push him away from the scene, but he wouldn’t move.

The voices got closer and closer. Four men ran into view, searching the street. 

“Where’d that bastard go?”

“He’s gotta be around here somewhere. There’s no way he can move that fast, not with those injuries.”

“Check the ground. There should be blood.”

Jonathan began to panic. They had to get Haruno out of here now. Going forward wasn’t an option, but maybe they could turn around and run through the next alleyway. He tried to urge Haruno forward, but he didn’t budge, his attention now turned to the men. “Haruno, we have to get out of here-”

“Hey kid!”

The men ran over to Haruno, towering over him and glaring him down. “You haven’t seen an injured man around here, have you? He’s pretty tall, has black hair, wearing a long coat. See anyone like that?”

Haruno stared for a moment. Jonathan pressed his hand down, ready to use Hey Jude for...something, he didn’t know what, but he needed to do something here. Haruno must be scared out of his mind-

Dio suddenly pulled his hand back. “Don’t. Let him make his own choice.”

Jonathan tried to push back. “But he needs my-”

“He went that way.”

Both Dio and Jonathan were caught off-guard by Haruno’s surprisingly calm answer. He held his arm out to his side, pointing to his left - the opposite direction of the man in the alleyway. There was no fear in his voice, no panic on his face. He was more calm and determined than they had ever seen him before. 

The men turned to look in the direction Haruno was pointing. “That way?” One of them asked.

Haruno nodded. His gaze never wavered. His hand never trembled. 

“He couldn’t have gotten too far in his condition. Let’s move!” The men ran off, not once turning back to look. Jonathan and Dio watched them run, disappearing around another corner, slipping out of sight. 

Dio sighed, shaking his head. “I doubt that’ll do any good. If no one finds his body, he’ll just end up bleeding to death.”

Jonathan’s shoulders slumped a bit, looking back down at Haruno. 

“Oh, don’t get so upset about it.” Dio said. “Let’s just keep moving.”

“Wait!” Jonathan slowly knelt down next to Haruno, running his fingers over the grass in between the stone cracks. He swore it had been shorter here before. His eyes wandered over to the man in the alley. He was practically invisible now, surrounded by grass that was surely taller than the last time they’d seen it. “This wasn’t here before…”

Dio hardly reacted - merely a twitch of an eyebrow Jonathan probably wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t know Dio so well.  

Jonathan glanced back at Haruno. For a moment, he thought he saw something - a brief flicker of gold surrounding his body like a protective aura. But it faded away in the blink of an eye, as though it had never been there at all. 

“Dio, you don’t think he-” Jonathan felt a sharp tug at his chest, cutting off his sentence. Haruno was already walking away, and the string connecting them was trying to pull him back. He got back on his feet and jogged back to Haruno’s side. Dio followed, and the question was forgotten.

Weeks passed, and the incident slowly faded into the back of their minds. Haruno got several new bruises that evening for being late - his stepfather had gotten more aggressive after losing his job - and his back ached terribly the next day. But like all bruises and scars he’d gotten before, they’d faded away, just another lump in a sea of countless others, and Haruno pushed on. It seemed as though the incident had completely slipped from his memory until one rainy afternoon nearly two months later, when he was walking home from school once again.

Dio noticed the man first, dressed in a long coat and hat, standing against the wall as though he was waiting for someone. It was the same man they’d seen in the alleyway, no longer bleeding. Any evidence of his past injuries had long since healed.

As Haruno approached him, the man suddenly moved to block the path. Dio and Jonathan both tensed, ready to fight.

“Haruno Shiobana, right?” The man asked. 

Haruno blinked in surprise, then slowly nodded.

The man tipped the brim of his hat downward. “You saved my life. I’ll never forget that.” Without another word, he turned around and walked away, leaving Haruno, Dio, and Jonathan to stand in shock. But just like the previous incident, it was almost forgotten by evening. 

A day passed. Two days. They noticed the man on the walk to school again, talking to the owner of the corner flower shop. He didn’t say a word as Haruno passed by. 

Three days passed. They saw him again at the school, waiting in the front office. They saw him shaking hands with the principal. Again, he ignored Haruno’s presence. 

A week passed, and they were beginning to see him everywhere. He was at the ice cream vendor. He was talking to the old woman who lived next door. They saw him drive by Haruno’s house on more than one occasion. His car was sometimes parked in front of the school building or houses on their street. 

Dio, rightfully, grew suspicious of this. “He’s planning something. There’s no reason this is a coincidence.”

Jonathan definitely found the man’s behavior rather odd, but he didn’t feel like there was any reason to worry. “If he’s planning on hurting Haruno, he would have done it a long time ago.” He said. 

Dio merely brushed it off, calling him “naively optimistic”, but never brought up the subject again.

It was nearly two weeks later when the strangest incident of them all occurred. Haruno’s mother and stepfather had gone out for the evening, as usual, and Haruno fell asleep shortly after they left. Jonathan sat by his side while Dio watched out the window. 

Suddenly, The World manifested at Dio’s side, braced for a fight. 

“What’s wrong?” Jonathan asked.

“He’s here.” Dio hissed.

Jonathan peered out the window. Sure enough, the man’s car was parked on the curb across the street. He stood outside, leaning against the car door, idly checking his watch. 

“What’s he doing here?” Jonathan wondered aloud.

“Nothing good.” Dio scowled. 

The man remained there for what seemed like hours, almost completely motionless. Dio refused to leave the window, watching the man with a fixed glare.

Eventually, Haruno’s mother and stepfather returned. The man on the curb approached them, non-hostile at first, but Haruno’s stepfather quickly turned the encounter into a violent argument. Jonathan and Dio were too far away to clearly hear anything they were saying, but they could occasionally make out strings of strong Italian profanities. 

At some point, the mysterious man must have said something that scared them, because Haruno’s parents both suddenly grew rather quiet, frozen in shock. The man continued speaking, somehow completely calm and collected after the argument that had just broken out. 

As soon as he finished speaking, Haruno’s stepfather swung a fist at the man, only to stumble forward when the man...wasn’t there? He’d stepped a good five feet out of the way in almost a fraction of a second in a blur of barely visible motion. Haruno’s stepfather didn’t notice this - or maybe he just didn’t care - because he charged at the man like an angry bull, with no thought of personal safety in mind. 

Bright silver energy lit up the area where the man stood. A humanoid figure dressed in silver and black stood next to him. It grabbed the stepfather’s shoulder with a single hand, holding him back while he wildly swung his arms about, still shouting and screaming, until he slowly realized he was stopped midair. 

The figure holding him back didn’t give him any more time to react. It swung its own fist at the man’s face, hitting his jaw and nose with incredible force, and tossing him to the pavement. 

Haruno’s stepfather grabbed his jaw and pinched his nose shut, howling in pain as blood gushed from his nostrils and poured down his face. The man ignored him, saying a few words more before tilting down the brim of his hat and walking back to his car. The silver figure that stood beside him vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Haruno’s mother shouted something at the man, but he ignored her as well, driving away without another word. After a few moments of shock, Haruno’s parents walked inside, Haruno’s stepfather grumbling under his breath while Haruno’s mother did her best to calm him down.

Jonathan, still processing the events he’d just witnessed, looked back at Dio. He no longer looked suspicious, rather...intrigued. He said nothing else for the entire evening, but there was clearly something on his mind. 

The morning after, even stranger things began to happen.

“Hey, Haruno.” The bedroom door opened, and Haruno’s mother stepped through. “Get up. Breakfast is on the table.”

Haruno’s mother never woke her son up for school in the mornings. In fact, Haruno had gotten into a habit of waking himself up, because the alternative was his stepfather angrily shouting from down the hallway, or worse, breaking into the room to wake him up himself. 

As soon as he’d gotten dressed and walked into the kitchen, Haruno was given a plate covered in freshly bought bakery rolls and an omelette. Haruno usually had nothing but toasted waffles or cold cereal for breakfast - if he was lucky enough to still have time to get breakfast before he had to go to school, anyways - and it was always prepared himself. He’d never had anything quite like this, much less anything he hadn’t made himself. He stood by the table, staring at the plate as if taking his eyes off it would make it disappear. 

“Well go on. Eat it, before it gets cold!” His mother said, her voice not quite angry, but laden with enough tired frustration to make Haruno snap back into focus and climb into his chair. 

His stepfather sat in the chair across from him, clumsily eating his own breakfast while holding a bag of ice against his now heavily bruised nose. He said nothing to Haruno throughout the entire meal, occasionally grumbling several curses and rubbing his jaw, which was also covered in fresh new bruises. His mother sat at her own seat, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper, occasionally passing it over to her husband to point out job listings he might be interested in.

Dio and Jonathan were both equally perplexed by their usually less hostile mood. Dio leaned across the table, watching them closely, Stand at the ready, while Jonathan tried to get Haruno to eat some of his breakfast. 

Haruno stayed quiet the entire time, only looking up from his plate once or twice to check the clock. He enjoyed the rolls - slipping one of them into his pocket for lunchtime, but the omelette was slightly undercooked and produced more than a few grimaces. Even so, Haruno wasn’t one to waste food, and forced himself to eat all of it. As soon as he was finished, he excused himself and went to go wash his plate off, before his mother suddenly snatched it out of his hands.

“Go get ready for school.” She said. Haruno remained frozen in place, staring at her as she dropped the plate in the sink. “Didn’t you hear me?” She snapped. “Go on! You’re going to be late!”

Haruno flinched and nodded, quickly running back to his bedroom, simultaneously pulling on his shoes and shoving his school work into his backpack. 

On the way out the door, his mother shoved a paper sack into his hands.

“There. I packed you lunch.” She said flatly. “Now get going.”

Haruno was used to simply eating the lunch provided at school, but he took the bag and muttered a quiet confused “thanks” before heading off. 

Such an unusual start to a morning should have been a sign things would be different, but it was quite the opposite. It was so peculiar that both Dio and Jonathan couldn’t get it out of their minds all day. They hardly focused on the walk to school or Haruno’s class. In fact, they didn’t even notice the mysterious man standing across the road again, silently watching. It wasn’t until the recess period after lunch when they finally snapped back into focus. 

“Hey, Haruno! Hey Haruno! Haruno!!!”

It was one of the bullies who usually came after Haruno, repeatedly poking the boy’s shoulder, trying to get his attention. Haruno did his best to ignore them, focusing on the butterfly chrysalis he’d spotted in the bushes.

“Hey!” The boy suddenly grabbed Haruno’s shoulder and turned him around. Haruno squeezed his eyes shut tightly and bowed his head, bracing for whatever insult or attack would be hurled his way, while Jonathan and Dio both wrapped their Stands in a protective bind around him. 

Instead, the boy pushed a small slip of paper against Haruno’s face. 

Haruno slowly opened his eyes, staring down at it. The boy looked sheepish now, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks bright with embarrassment. 

“I, uh… me and my friends were gonna go see a movie after school together.” The boy began. Behind him, his small group of friends/bullying cohorts waited, looking just as awkward and embarrassed. “We had one extra ticket, so…” he pushed the paper in further, waiting for Haruno to take it, “we wanted you to come with us!” 

Haruno stared at the ticket for a moment. He slowly reached for it, watching the other boy to make sure he wouldn’t suddenly snatch it away, and held it out in front of him, reading the title. It was an action movie - one someone his age shouldn’t be watching, but one he’d wanted to see nonetheless. But even so, there was no reason to trust this. He shook his head and handed the ticket back. “Sorry. I can’t do it. You’ll have to find someone else.”

“Aw, c’mon!” One of the boys jeered. “Don’t be such a pus-” 

The first boy elbowed him in the chest, and he staggered backwards. “Dude, what did I tell you?” The boy hissed, grabbing the other by the collar. “You can’t say that shit! If my dad finds out-”

“Okay, okay! Jeez, dude.” The other boy pushed him off. 

Haruno blinked back at them in confusion. He held the ticket out again, waiting for someone to take it back. 

The first boy pushed the ticket back. “Look, dude. You don’t have to go see it with us. But you should keep the ticket, just in case you wanna go see it on your own or something.”

“No.” Haruno said. “You take it.” But before he could give it back, the bell for class had already rang, and they were lining up to head inside. 

For the rest of class, Haruno turned over the ticket in his hand, rereading the words on it carefully. At the end of the day, he stood on the path in front of the school, still weighing his options. 

“This doesn’t seem like a good idea.” Jonathan said, shaking his head. “Not when his stepfather’s home.”

“Agreed.” Dio muttered bitterly. “Besides, it’s probably a trap. Those boys wouldn’t have given him the ticket if they didn’t have ulterior motives.” He leaned down, pressing The World’s hand against Haruno’s shoulder. “Come, Haruno. It’s time to-”

But Haruno ignored him. He started walking down the opposite path, following the boys who’d given him the ticket at a close distance. 

“Haruno, what are you doing?” Dio hissed, grabbing the boy’s shoulders with both hands now. “Forget them. They don’t want you anyways.

Haruno stiffened, scrunching his face up and squeezing his eyes shut. He shook it off and firmly pushed forward. 

Jonathan chewed his lip nervously. “Guess there’s nothing else we can do. He’s already made up his mind.”

The movie theater was only a block away from the school. Haruno waited at the window, watching the other boys head into the showroom without him before he went in the front door. He had enough stolen change in his pockets to order a few snacks for himself, before handing his ticket to the usher and slipping into the showroom, hoping he wouldn’t be noticed by-

“Hey Haruno!” The boys were waving at him from their seats.

Haruno flinched and momentarily turned to leave. But he stopped, suddenly, and looked up.

There was a man leaning against the back wall of the showroom - the same mysterious man they’d been seeing all week. He wasn’t looking at him - his hat was tipped down over his face. Something about the man’s added presence must have comforted him, because he turned back around and walked over to the boys, still waving and calling his name.

“C’mon, Haruno! You can come sit by us! I mean, we don’t have the best seats in the whole house, but they’ve got a pretty great view of the screen!”

“Hey, you got popcorn? Where’d you get the money for that?”

“We already spent our allowance on movie tickets. Do you mind if you share. Or maybe you could let us borrow some of your money? We’ll pay you back, I promise!”

The World was hovering inches from the boys’ faces, practically ready to tear them apart, but Hey Jude pulled him back. 

“Relax, Dio.” Jonathan said. “I don’t think we need to be worried right now.”

So Haruno sat down with the other boys and watched the movie together. At intermission, he seemed to think about leaving again, but the boys held him back, eagerly talking about the movie and asking Haruno what he thought about it. It was strange for Haruno to be at the center of positive attention, rather than a victim of mocking and scorn. He had no idea how to react to it, answering most questions with a shake of the head or a quiet shrug. 

When they left the theater that evening, they saw the mysterious man again, waiting in the hall outside the showroom. Once again, he didn’t even look at him, completely ignoring him as they walked out the front door. It was almost as if he too was a ghost, doing his part to protect the boy from a distance.

As soon as Haruno got home that night, his stepfather started shouting at him, demanding to know why he was so late. Haruno stammered out apologies, holding out the ticket stub as his ultimately pitiful excuse. It only made his stepfather grow angrier. He raised his fist above his head. Jonathan and Dio both rose to cover Haruno, while he raised his arms to cover himself, squeezing his eyes shut, bracing for the hit...

His stepfather stopped. His eyes went wide, filled with a sudden panic. 

His fist lowered. His face hardened into a scowl.

“Dammit.” He hissed under his breath. 

Haruno didn’t lower his arms, but opened his eyes slowly, watching as his stepfather shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking away.

“Go to your room.” He grumbled over his shoulder. 

Haruno remained frozen in place, watching his stepfather, blinking quizzically. Jonathan and Dio were motionless as well. 

“I said go to your room!” His stepfather turned around and shouted. “And don’t think you're in the clear! You’ll get your punishment!”

“Yes sir.” Haruno nodded, trying to cover the waver of fear in his voice as he quickly shuffled off to his room. 

As he shut the door behind him, Haruno could hear his stepfather muttering to himself. “Why does he care about this damn kid?”

Haruno stayed in his room for the next few hours, doing his homework, and trying to be as quiet as possible. His stepfather never interrupted him, and when his mother got home, she didn’t bother him either. In fact, the incident with his stepfather was never mentioned again, as though it had never happened. 

“Hey, kid.” His mother opened his bedroom door later that evening, the only time anyone bothered him that evening. “Come on out. We’re having dinner.”

When Haruno sat down to eat - again at the table, another unusual event - his parents were once again silent the entire meal. The only words spoken were afterwards, when his mother told him to go to bed. No arguments, no punishments, just...silence. Sweet, peaceful silence. 

For once, Haruno had gone an entire day without any bruises, scoldings, or torments, and instead been treated kindly by his family and peers. It had been unusually pleasant, and completely unexpected. In fact, that might have made it worse. He was so on edge the entire day, waiting for the abuse to start again, that by the time he got to bed he was so exhausted he passed out the second he hit the mattress. 

Throughout the whole night, Dio and Jonathan were left to argue about the day’s events.

“It’s unusual, but I wouldn’t say it’s a sign of any permanent change.” Dio muttered bitterly. “At best, this will last a few days. Maybe even a week. But face it, JoJo. He can’t watch over Haruno forever.”

“Well, we’ve been watching him for this long, haven’t we? What’s stopping him?” Jonathan chuckled.

“The face that he’s alive. We may not have anything left to do in the mortal realm, but he does. I’d wager he has more important things he should be worrying about instead of a child he doesn’t even know.”

“Then are you saying you’d rather he wasn’t here at all?”

Dio’s brow furrowed. “I am not saying that. I’m saying we shouldn’t rely on him so much. Not when he’s bound to leave any second.”

Jonathan paused, considering his words. “Well, he went through all this effort to help Haruno. I doubt he’d simply stop here.”

For once, Dio seemed unable to think up a response. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, silent for a long time, before speaking again. “If this really does turn out to be permanent...I wonder if that man is planning to recruit Haruno into his organization.”

“Dio…” Jonathan frowned, “what do you-”

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean, JoJo.” Dio smirked. “That man is clearly a member of the Italian mafia. If he’s doing all this to help Haruno, there must be something he asks in return.”

Jonathan leapt to his feet. “He wouldn’t force a child to do that!” He paused, suddenly remembering the boy he’d seen in the alleys, meeting with the other men, as if he were… “...Would he?”

“There’s no way to tell.” Dio said. “But it’s not unwise to keep it in mind.”

Now, Jonathan was in a considerably worse mood. He slowly knelt next to Haruno again, watching him with distant, lost eyes. 

Dio looked down at him, crooking an eyebrow. “Where’s your optimistic spirit, JoJo?” He laughed. “I half expected you to strike me with your Stand or accuse me of talking nonsense. But suddenly you’re resigned to Haruno’s fate? Honestly, I thought you were better than this.”

Jonathan’s voice came out in a whisper. “I don’t want it to be true, but…” But Dio’s words made too much sense. He really shouldn’t have trusted Haruno’s care in a mafioso. Who knew what the man really wanted? Was he waiting to gain Haruno’s trust before manipulating him in whatever way he wanted? He wanted to believe that wasn’t the case, but now a thousand anxieties were flooding his head. Was this really a good thing for Haruno? Or was it-

“Oh, Jonathan.” Dio laughed, putting his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “As much as I would love to see you fall into despair, I don’t know what I’d do without your relentless optimism. So calm yourself down and quit worrying about such things.”

“I am trying! But I-” Jonathan started, attempting to argue back, before Dio pressed a finger against his lips, silencing him. 

“You’re not trying hard enough clearly.” He said. “Just forget what I said, alright now? I’ll worry about the possible dangers. You go rest yourself. Spending all this time as a father has worn you thin.”

Jonathan shook his head. “I need to stay here. What if Haruno gets a nightmare?”

“Then I’ll be here to protect him.” Dio said. “Now go lie down. You’ve pushed yourself too far, I think.”

Begrudgingly, Jonathan got to his feet and lied down on the other end of the room. Doubts and worries still clouded his mind. How was he supposed to rest like this? The knowledge that Haruno might be in danger loomed over him, a shadow of fear that wouldn’t leave him. What would they do, if something like that were to happen?

...Well, wouldn’t they just do what they had always done? They would protect Haruno, obviously. They had made it this far guarding him. What more could deter them? 

He turned over, looking at Dio and Haruno now. Yes, after all that had happened to them, nothing could keep them from protecting their son. No matter what happened next, they would be there for him, like they always had. 

Days, weeks, and months passed by. The strange acts of kindness in Haruno’s life never let up. If anything, they just became more frequent. 

The woman who ran the flower shop stopped Haruno on his way to school one morning, handing him a bouquet of bright pink and gold flowers. She refused to take any payment for them, giving them to Haruno as a gift. 

On the way home, Haruno stopped at the nearby ice cream vendor. He only ordered a single scoop of pistachio, but was surprised with an additional scoop of chocolate on top. When he tried to pay for the extra scoop, the vendor just smiled and told him it was his special treat. 

The old woman that lived next door to Haruno invited him inside one day. She gave him tea and cookies and gave him a tour of her house. She showed him the paintings her daughter made that she’d hung up along the stairwell, the medals her son had earned as a gymnast, and the grand piano her husband used to play. She even gave him some of the old toys in the attic her children used to play with.

Haruno’s teachers, while they hadn’t been particularly cruel towards him in the past, were more earnestly trying to help him participate in class. They personally helped him with assignments to make sure he understood the information they taught.

The boys Haruno had once known as bullies continued to be friendly with him. At first, it was apparent that they were only doing this because they were forced to by their parents, but eventually they began to genuinely enjoy spending time with him. 

As for Haruno’s mother and stepfather...well, they certainly weren’t as awful as they were before. His stepfather became less and less violent over time, until he barely spoke to him at all. He silently started giving back Haruno’s old toys, including his old teddy bear, Dansu Kuma, who he’d almost completely forgotten about. His mother, on the other hand, seemed as though she was trying to find a balance between going out all night and being a proper mother. She served meals at the dinner table (though they were rarely ever cooked right) and occasionally acted like she cared for Haruno’s well-being, but there was hardly any love in her actions. While the both of them were much better than they’d been before, it was hardly an improvement. 

“Useless fools.” Dio called them, and despite himself, Jonathan couldn’t help but agree.

But unlike Dio’s earlier prediction, the flow of kindness never stopped. With each passing day, it became more of a constant and less of an oddity. What’s more, Haruno became more comfortable with strangers helping him. Slowly but surely, his protective shell of unassuming compliance was starting to crack. He asked for things he wanted, even small and simple things like extra servings at lunch or help on his assignments. He was able to tell his friends about his interests without fear they would ignore or tease him. He could walk around his own home for the very first time without any fear or anxiety in his heart. 

The mysterious man still showed up from time to time, watching him at a distance, silent but present. Yet over time, he began to show up less and less. He was a man of the mafia, after all, and he had duties elsewhere. Even Haruno seemed to realize that; despite how hard the man tried to hide his true profession, it was only a matter of time that Haruno learned the kind of man he was. But even when he was gone, his favors never stopped. Haruno’s parents never hurt him again. His friends never left his side. Things never returned to the way they had once been. 

There was one...odd side effect of the man’s kindness. Something no one had predicted. Perhaps it was because the man had been the first person to treat him with a sense of respect no one had ever shown him before, but Haruno had begun to idolize him. 

Well, not just the man himself. No, Haruno idolized the idea of becoming a mafioso just like him. 

A “gang-star”, he called it. “Gang-stars are good, ‘cuz they’re not like the other gangsters.” He told his friends once. “They’re the ones who help people.”

“Sounds kinda...weird.” One of his friends shrugged. “I mean, why wouldn’t you just become a police officer or something?”

“Yeah!” Another boy said. “My big brother’s training to be an officer! You should be one too!”

Haruno shook his head. “I don’t wanna be a police officer. I wanna be a gang-star.”

Nothing could deter young Haruno from his goals. It was his new goal - his dream - to become a gang-star, a protector of the people just like the man who had protected him. 

“It’s a rather interesting goal.” Dio said. “What do you think of it, JoJo?”

Jonathan wasn’t sure what he thought of it. “It’s certainly very noble of him. But it just doesn’t seem very safe, I suppose.”

He watched Haruno, bending down with his friends, examining a butterfly crawling across a leaf. He smiled. “But I think...as long as we’re with him, everything will turn out fine.”

Dio smirked, laughing softly. “Ever the optimist, aren't you JoJo?”