Chapter Text
As soon as Dio leapt out of the carriage, he knew that he would need to usurp the Joestar heiress from her position. Of course, as a boy, he would be the better option in general, but he is but a mere ward, thus only given support instead of getting the money. However, Lord Joestar tries to have them wed once they are grown, and Dio refuses to marry such a pathetic woman.
“My apologies, Lord Joestar, but I cannot see myself marrying Jojo. She is like a sister to me already,” he lies easily, watching as Lord Joestar frowns but nods in understanding.
“I see. Thank you for hearing me out, Dio,” the old fool politely thanks him while Jojo sighs in something like relief. Dio’s lip does curl at her obvious relief, but he says nothing.
That Pendleton bastard is causing Dio issues. With how the young man is courting Jojo like a gentleman, if news gets to Lord Joestar, then Dio will never become heir as Pendleton would be set up to marry Jojo. While he’s glad to have the freedom of choice for his wife, he curses his past self from refusing to marry Jojo. Binding the Joestar name to him would have guaranteed that he would have the fortune, but that is in the past. Instead, he needs to focus on causing a rift between the young couple. He leans back against a tree, jolting in surprise when his hand runs against a cut. Turning his head, Dio sees a crude heart carved into the bark, the names Jojo and Erin within the shape. Something dark roars within his gut at the sight of such a crude carving. He storms off, fury burning through his veins at something that isn’t his. Dio pauses at the sight of Jojo walking down the path, a smile curving her face and a sweet flush on her cheeks, a smitten expression on her face that infuriates him.
“Jojo. What are you doing out here so late?” he calls, watching as his “sister” tenses at his voice, her face smoothing out into a neutral expression.
“I was with Erin for the day,” she sniffs, looking away from him as if he is beneath her. Dio grits his teeth and grabs her wrist. Jojo gasps and tries to pull away from him, only for Dio to pull her tightly to his chest and force her head to look up at him. Then, he kisses her.
It’s like everything is right in that kiss, nothing like the girls he would kiss on dares in London, nor like the kisses from the men and women he sold himself to when he was desperate enough and his chess games weren’t enough. The plush feeling of Jojo’s lips against his own, the feeling of her body against his, fitting like something that was missing. It makes Dio’s mind spin in confusion, that is abruptly ended when Jojo slaps his face.
“How dare you!” she pants, tears streaming down her face as she takes a step back. Shaking off the feeling (and how he wants more), Dio grins.
“That was your first kiss, wasn’t it?” he croons, chuckling when she pales, hiccupping through her tears. He takes a step forward and watches in delight as she falls back, into a puddle. He leans down, bragging, “Your first kiss wasn’t with the Pendleton brat, but I, Dio!” Jojo glares up at him before turning to the puddle and dipping her hand into the water. Dio takes a step back, expecting her to fling the filthy water at him, only for her to use the water to wash her mouth out. Immediately, rage fills him. How dare she. Did she not feel the perfection of their kiss? Did she not realize just how amazing Dio is compared to that Pendleton bastard? Did he not show his superiority to both Jojo and Pendleton?
“Jojo,” he growls, taking a step toward her. Jojo looks up and kicks his feet out from under him, causing Dio to yelp in shock and fall on his ass. She stands, glaring down at him, even as tears continue to stream down her face.
“You’ve gone too far, Dio. I hope you rot in hell,” she spits, turning toward the mansion and fleeing, her dress still covered in mud. Dio continues to sit there, watching her go as the part of him that regrets not agreeing to Lord Joestar’s proposal grows more. He wants to see her beneath him, breaking only for him.
Johanna looks up at Erin, in awe of what he had become during the seven years apart. His hair is pulled back into a long ponytail, his blue eyes kind and his smile sweet. Even with the bandages wrapped around her, Johanna reaches up and pulls Erin in for a kiss, one he eagerly returns. Despite the knowledge that they are in a hospital and there is a likelihood that they could be caught, Johanna can’t bring herself to care. She pulls Erin over her, still kissing him, and welcomes his embrace eagerly.
Dio stares up at Jojo, at the only woman he loves, and chokes as her final breath escapes her. That Pendleton bastard and his son have escaped from the burning ship, at Jojo’s last request, leaving them to die.
“No,” Dio breaths, pulling himself from her slack arms and rising to be level with Jojo’s head. Her turquoise eyes, so full of fire and life, now stare blankly ahead, as her face grows lax under death. He leans forward, his trembling lips meeting hers once more for a second kiss, before he bites into her lower lip and rips the flesh from her skull. He consumes her body, ignoring the fire raging around them and the tears pouring from his face, eating everything but her skull. His body repairs and grows from Jojo’s flesh and blood, gaining a great height and musculature that Dio had only dreamed of in his youth. As soon as the only thing left is Jojo’s skull, Dio crawls into the coffin and secures both himself and Jojo within, while the ship around them finally gives out, sending them to the bottom of the sea.
DIO stares at the woman before him, waiting for something to happen. He’d been waiting and trying, over and over, to find a body perfect for his Jojo to return to him in. Most of the bodies would immediately deteriorate when he placed Jojo’s skull on the prepared body, others would jolt as though struck by electricity before Jojo’s skull would fall off the neck stump. This one, however, seems to be working. The Shiobana woman was annoying, but her body looked just like Jojo’s did. It took very little effort to seduce her to his mansion and even less effort to decapitate her. He took the time to properly set Jojo’s skull on Shiobana’s naked body, and watched in awe as flesh seemed to crawl over Jojo’s skull, creating the face that he’s missed for all these years. However, she remains sleeping silently in the chair he set her on.
“Jojo, it’s time to wake up,” he sighs, reaching out and playing with the lock of recently grown hair. Her eyelids flutter open, blinking up in confusion before she pales and pulls away from DIO’s hand.
“What did you do, Dio? Why am I alive?” she demands to know, looking around the room in desperately. DIO doesn’t respond, his throat tight at how she’s back with him, how she’s returned to him.
“Jojo. Oh, Jojo,” he sighs, grasping her head and kissing her lips once more. He feels her little fists slam into his chest, feels how she pushes against him, fighting to get away from him. He won’t let her, never again. DIO pulls away only to scoop her up into his arms and lays her on his bed, smirking as Jojo continues to fight against him.
“Dio! Don’t! We’re siblings!” she cries, panic and fear plain on her face. DIO hums wordlessly, his mouth kissing and nipping at her lower abdomen, where his child will settle.
“I never saw you as my sister, Jojo,” he confesses, “A nuisance? Originally, yes. The love of my life? Of course. But my sister? Never.” Jojo stills under his confession, letting DIO pin her down for their lovemaking.
Nine months. He only had Jojo back with him for nine months, before her skull separated from the woman’s body. All he has left is their son, with his Joestar mark and Jojo’s turquoise eyes. He looks down at the sleeping boy, curled up in his arms. The only glimpse of day he will have until Jojo returns to him once again.
“Giorno,” DIO sighs softly, brushing a stray strand of dark hair from his son’s face. His son opens his eyes slowly, blinking up at DIO before a small smile crosses his little face.
DIO flexes his hand idly, the blooming purple vines along his arm and crowning his head more than enough to show that Jojo’s flesh has awoken when the World was brought into being.
“Oh, Jojo,” he croons, tracing the vine to the orange blossoms and dark crimson roses. At the sound of small footsteps, DIO flicks the stand away and turns to see little Giorno, a serious frown on his little face as he toddles toward him. Smirking, DIO rises off his seat only to crouch down and spread his arms wide. His son’s eyes light up and he stumbles into DIO’s arms, basking in the warmth of his embrace.
“What are you doing here, little one?” DIO coos at his son. Giorno smiles up at him before his eyes move to the side, staring at something in the distance. Arching an eyebrow, DIO turns and looks as well. All that there is over there is Jojo’s skull, sitting in the glass case he had made specifically for her.
“Mama…” Giorno whispers, pointing beside the skull. DIO furrows his brow, looking at where Giorno is pointing with no one there. Narrowing his eyes, he summons the World to pause this situation, to calm himself before he snaps at Giorno, only for his breath to catch in his throat as time stops. Beside her own skull is Jojo, frozen in time with the rest, but standing where there was no one before. Time starts again and Jojo disappears from DIO’s sight. Giorno reaches toward where she had stood for DIO, frowning and whining as only two-year olds do. DIO stares at the empty space, rage and jealousy and want spinning within him, but he can’t unleash it on Giorno, who wouldn’t understand anything. Instead, he holds his son closer and swears to find a perfect body to bring Jojo back into his arms, as she should have been all those years ago.
Giorno doesn’t know a lot of things yet, like he doesn’t know why Mama doesn’t sleep with Papa, or why Papa keeps bringing in ladies then throwing out headless bodies. He does know that Mama doesn’t like Papa, that Papa did something to really upset Mama and he keeps making it worse, if her frowns at him are anything to go by. Wandering around the mansion, Giorno follows Mama as she glides over the floor, her pretty white dress not touching the ground. They arrive at the room Papa usually talks to Enya in, with a crystal ball set in the middle, Giorno looking at the clear ball with wide eyes. Mama floats over and holds her hand out, the purple vines Papa sometimes has appearing around her arm and diving into the ball. Soon, Giorno sees images of people he doesn’t know, in places far away.
“That’s Joseph, your nephew,” Mama whispers. Giorno looks up at her, confused about how he’s an uncle, but he doesn’t say anything. Mama rarely speaks and when she does, Giorno wants to hear her. She has a pretty voice.
“This is his daughter, Holly,” Mama continues softly, showing a pretty lady with light brown hair. The image shifts to show a frowning lady in dark clothes walking somewhere, “and his granddaughter, Jotaro.”
“Pretty,” Giorno decides while watching as Miss Jotaro pauses and picks up a kitten, holding it up for the Mama cat to take before going on her way. Mama smiles and nods, petting his hair. It feels like the wind blowing through his hair every time Mama does that. He wishes that he could feel her warmth like he can feel Papa’s, but this is the most Mama can do and he accepts it.
DIO’s hand trembles as he stares at the photos before him. Three people take up each photo, two of them being nothing more than Pendleton’s children. The last one, however, the youngest, is perfect for Jojo’s body. Everything about her body matches Jojo’s perfectly, and it’ll be from one of Jojo’s descendants, making the blood and flesh match much easier.
“Finally,” he grins, pressing his thumb against the young woman’s face, allowing him to really look at the body that will soon be his Jojo’s. Chuckling, he takes the top of the photo and rips it off, grinning at everything that is left.
“Enya,” he calls, not even turning when the woman appears behind him, “I want Jotaro’s body. Kill her or keep her alive, I don’t care. Just bring me Jotaro’s body.”
“As you wish, Lord DIO,” the woman agrees, turning back to the shadows. DIO laughs, stamping his foot on the face of Jotaro while holding the rest of the photograph up.
“Soon, we’ll be reunited, dear Jojo,” he croons, stopping time to look beside him, at the distraught expression on Jojo’s face.
Jotaro wakes up in her cell, huffing as she raises her hand to her throat. She frowns before settling down on the bed once more, staring at the purple figure that looks so similar to the woman from her dream.
“What the hell are you?” she whispers, staring up at crimson eyes. The spirit gives no answer, merely staring back.