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Chapter Text

And crossing the finish line in 39th place, Isadora Meyers!

Isadora swore under her breath and pet Rio’s mane. It had been a nightmare to even get this far, she had lost so much steam during that storm. It had damn near killed her.

She looked back. She had passed Diego hours ago, there was no telling how far behind he had been. But she didn’t want to stop and help him, given their history. No, she would rest up and recuperate. 

First order of business was a letter home. 

After brushing and putting Rio away for the night, she climbed up the steps to the post office with a small smile. Letters home were a big deal for Isadora. She never failed to send one from the cities she was in, save for Colorado, where her family had come to see her on her journey. Arguably her best performance in the entire race. 

Looking around at the paper and postage supplies, her eyes caught sight of the local newspaper, announcing the arrival of racers today. It had been an anticlimactic finish, with the racers battered and exhausted from that freak monsoon that had raged through the plains. She couldn’t help but be curious, would the paper report a death toll? Or the rankings?

Someone else entered the small building but she ignored it, opting to pick up the paper and read the front headline. 

Genius Jockey Diego Brando and Mapmaker Heiress Isadora Meyers, the fan-favorite duo of the Steel Ball Run

Isadora threw the paper down to the wooden floor in disgust. 

“That was rude of you.” That accent, and that cocky-ass voice. Isadora turned around to see Diego Brando standing a few feet away from her, looking absolutely haggard. 

“You look like hell, Brando. How far back did the storm knock you?” She asked with a raised brow, picking the paper off the dusty plank flooring and returning it to the stand she had plucked it from, wanting this interaction to end as quickly as it began, but also relishing in the fact that she definitely just beat Diego Brando in this stage. 

“Worse than you, be thankful.” He said, and she rolled her eyes remembering their fight in the Colorado mountains, “They think we’re in this together now, you should probably stop talking to me in secluded places, or anywhere, really.” Isadora spoke in that same collected tone, once again. Anything to get under his skin and give him a taste of his own nasty medicine. 

Diego stepped forward with a grin that was a little too wide, and Isadora pulled her red duster to one side, exposing her silver six-shooter. 

“You know what these feel like, I wouldn’t come much closer if I were you.” She threatened, and looked over at the postal clerk, who watched on in fear. 

“Let’s take our little chat outside.” She said, brushing past the man and out the door. He trailed after her, and the two would eventually settle in a back alley, with Diego sitting on the stoop of a building and Isadora leaning against the wall a few feet away. 

“The fan-favorite duo. They think we’re a team. Or worse.” She mumbled, and Diego could only roll his own eyes at the thought. It was obvious to their fellow competitors that the two would kill each other given the chance, hell Isadora almost had, but the press would do anything for a good story. 

“If you get within 100 feet of me Diego Brando, and any stage of this thing, I’ll pump you so full of lead your fossil will be encased in a thin layer of metal. ” Isadora crossed her arms, shifting her duster to show the pistol once again. If she was kidding certainly no one could tell. However, she was bluffing. She couldn't afford to not finish this. And she wouldn't be disqualified from the race and risk her family's name over someone like Diego Brando.

“As if you’d get that close to me in a race. You’ve gotten this far through sheer luck. An amateur trail-rider under her brother’s name, you’re effectively nothing.” Diego said. Isadora’s eyes widened a fraction, but she made no move to retaliate. Instead she turned away, muttering the phrase, ‘Fuck you, you stupid lizard.’

At the end of the alleyway, though, she turned. "Just because my brother idolized you, Brando, doesn't mean I'm gonna respect you. No, I'm gonna beat you. If Rio takes me across that finish line before anyone else," She pointed a red-gloved finger at him, and narrowed her eyes dangerously, "It's gonna be you."

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Hit.” Christine tapped the table, and Avdol passed her a card. 

The group had down time in Aswan, and what better way to spend it than with a round of gambling. Not like there was much else to do. Polnareff, Joseph, Jotaro, and Christine sat at a table in a cafe, with a deck of cards the teenager had brought, forgetting about the nightmare that had ensued earlier today and instead killing time. 

So far, Christine sat at 17, with an 8, a 5, and a 4. Joseph sat at 12 with a king and a 2. Jotaro had 16, with a queen and a 6. And Polnareff was counting his blessings after receiving two Jacks.

Avdol, as the dealer, had only one card up, and it was a 9. 

Christine wasn’t an amazing gambler, however she had learned a lot from staying with her crew. She knew how to navigate a situation like this. As Joseph weighed his options, Christine weighed hers. A king and queen were already out. That meant that three kings and three- 

“Damn!” 

Two queens remained. Christine chuckled a bit as Joseph's hit was a fail. He had busted. The older man leaned back in his seat, “Can't believe I lost again…” He muttered and Jotaro rolled his eyes, “It's a game of chance old man.” 

Polnareff laughed loudly, “It seems you and lady luck are seeing other people, Mr. Joestar!” 

Joseph crossed his arms and Christine shook her head. Jotaro and Polnareff both stayed. Christine was glad she hadn't bet much on the round, she had a feeling she was losing. 

“Alright, I'll reveal the card-” Avdol flipped his Face down card over, And Joseph Joestar slammed his hands on the table, standing up angrily, “You all are conspiring against me!” 

It was a 2. 

Christine and Polnareff burst into laughter, and Jotaro hid his face with the brim of his hat. 

“Mr. Joestar I assure you the cards are clean-” Avdol began but Joseph wouldn't hear it, continuing to argue. Meanwhile Christine and Polnareff couldn't contain their laughter at all, at Joseph's outburst. 

“Mr. Joestar, it's just a game! We're betting on potato chips, it's not even real money,” Christine said after the laughter had calmed down, reaching over and stealing one of said crunchy snacks. Polnareff gasped in fake betrayal as Christine popped the chip in her mouth. 

“It's the principle. Whatever happened to the youth respecting their elders.”

Christine paused mid-chew and looked at Avdol, who looked at her. Both were equally as confused over that. 

“Old man, I think it's time for a nap.” Jotaro said, and everyone at the table looked at him in shock. 

And that was how Blackjack was banned whenever the Crusaders had down time.

Chapter Text

It was a beautiful Spring Saturday in Morioh, and a young woman stood on a table with a toolbox next to her, her mother watching in mild concern.

Jade had been eating lunch when the ceiling light above her shorted out, scaring her into dropping said lunch all over her jeans. After some upset muttering and a change into another set of clothes, she had angrily rifled through the attic to get a toolkit.

"Jade, just come down. I can call someone over to help out, it's not an issue-"

Jade shook her head at her mom's request, "I'm in too deep."

That was correct. The light fixture was next to her feet on the table, and wires stuck out from the roof, including a slightly burnt one at the tip.

From what she had read in the one book she had ever read about electronics (after getting curious about how much like a car Clint Eastwood truly was) she remembered that most wiring like this could just be remanipulated and replugged.

Sounded easy enough, she figured. She hummed as she worked to take the cap off of one wire, and carefully put it onto the burnt one.

She carefully lifted the light back into place, replacing the screws and bulbs, and then pointing to her mom, "Fire it up!"

Her mother blinked a few times and hesitantly walked over to the light switch, flicking it. The light turned on and Jade cheered.

"See, mom! I told you it would be fine-"

Jade was interrupted by a crackle, and a pop. The light bulb in the light burst, and Jade stumbled back, off the table, and straight onto her arm with a pained yell.

____

"So how exactly did you break your arm in three places by falling from a table?"

Jade glanced over at Rohan Kishibe from her seated position on the hospital bed, muttering about how she didn't want to talk about it.

"I'll find out one way or another what you did."

Her eyes widened and she looked over at him.

"You don't have the nerve- Never mind yes you do. Fine, I was fixing a light, and the light bulb exploded. It scared me so I fell off the table, hit the chair, and then hit the floor," Jade recounted her light bulb escapade, and Rohan sat in bewildered silence.

"Why didn't you just call the brat to fix the light? He would have done it for you," Rohan replied after a few moments, and Jade groaned, leaning back in her hospital bed and letting her head hit the pillow.

"My mom was home, how am I supposed to explain-"

"I'm back with lunch, Jade!"

"To my professors that I can't write this paper." She finished with a fake story, and then looked at her mom, "Where did you end up going?"

"Oh that nice sandwich shop in town." She explained, and Jade nodded, before sitting back up.

"Hey, Rohan, you brought your pens, right? Think you could draw something on my cast?" She asked with an excited smile, holding out the appendage covered in plaster.

Rohan sighed, staring at it for a few moments. He had never signed a cast before, much less drawn on one. It was an odd request, but he couldn't help but be a bit happy that Jade wanted to wear his artwork.

Even if it was only for 6 to 8 weeks.

"Fine. Move closer to the edge." He said while rifling through his bag for his supplies. Jade's excited smile didn't falter as she carefully maneuvered her way to the edge of the bed and propped her cast up on the side railing.

Rohan laid his pens out on the blanket, and studied his unorthodox canvas for a while, before finally picking up an pen and beginning to ink up the bandages.

After a few hours of work, Jade finally got a look at her cast, and she couldn't help but be amazed, and a little shocked.

"Rohan you drew a bunch of Pink Dark Boy panels on it?!" She laughed and twisted her arm around as best she could.

"Well, it was the best I could come up with on short notice." Rohan gave an exasperated answer and Jade could only roll her eyes teasingly, "I promise I'll warn you next time I plan to break an arm."

"Don't make a habit of this, you get yourself into enough trouble without electrical fires."

Chapter Text

"Filter, coffee, hot water, close the lid." Isadora muttered.

"How long do you wait for it to be done?" Gyro asked, not looking up from the book Isadora had lent him.

The book was in exchange for a coffee making lesson. Over the past few days of travel with the duo, Isadora had gotten pretty reliant on the dark, energizing brew. The tea in her bag was something she was now saving to trade in town. They'd gotten the young woman hooked.

"Uhm... 4 minutes right?" She said hesitantly, using a gloved hand and piece of fabric to pull the kettle out of the hot coals. 

The silence made her rethink. 

"5 minutes, final answer." She said, pouring the water into the little pot. 

"4 minutes." The man said, and Isadora sighed in irritation, "Alright. Done. Guess we wait, when did Johnny say he'd be back?" 

Gyro shrugged and turned the page. Isadora watched him for a moment while sitting down next to him, "You're actually enjoying that?" 

"No, just find it funny that the cross-dressing heiress with a gun reads romance novels." 

Isadora yanked the book out of his hand at that comment and tucked it into her duster, staring at the fire. 

She remembered their first night travelling together, sleeping around the fire. He'd been quiet, distrustful of her. She missed that Gyro, because now he was nothing better than a bully. 

"Y'know, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar," She said, and Gyro could only chuckle and roll his eyes, "You're giving me advice on how to behave?" 

As he said this he moved closer to her, to stare her down. She shifted away from him nervously, not meeting those seemingly glowing green eyes, and not liking where this altercation could go.

It was night, balloons were down, and Johnny would undoubtedly take Gyro's side if he decided to remove Isadora from the race. 

"When the hell is Johnny getting back-" Isadora fully turned her head away from Gyro Zeppeli and moved a few centimeters away. 

"Told you I didn't know." 

Isadora wasn't comfortable, and of course Gyro was doing it on purpose. If he loved doing anything it was scaring her. 

"Do you make all women uncomfortable when they tick you off or am I just special?" Isadora asked, and Gyro shrugged, "I don't talk to women much." 

"Well that's not a surprise." Isadora muttered under her breath before speaking louder, "Why not, you just don't like 'em?" 

Gyro shook his head and finally leaned back, giving Isadora some breathing room, "Never have, they're bad luck." 

Isadora hummed with a nod, and them remembered. The information from their fight with Oyecomova in Arizona. Gyro probably was raised around a lot of high society, European nobles. And criminals. Probably not the best outlook on any women he met. 

"Well uh... if it's any help. Not all women are useless or conniving." She offered, "You could try being nicer to them." 

Gyro didn't said anything, prompting Isadora to continue, "You didn't trust me when you knew me as Thomas, because I was a man alone in the desert, following you, carrying two guns and a lot of ammo." 

She pulled her ornate engraved pistol from the holster and held it up to make her point, "I've still got the guns. We went from fear to disrespect when you got my true identity, even though I more than proved I could help you. Hell I shot a dinosaur to help you." 

She mumbled that last part irritatedly. 

"I risked so much for you and for Johnny, and now you're just thinking I'm bad luck?" 

Gyro didn't respond and the air between the two grew heavy. Isadora was fed up with it. Since the news broke of her being Isadora and not Thomas, all the racers had seemed to change their minds about her except for one. 

"Diego Brando's been more respectful than you." 

Gyro's head finally turned to her, and he didn't miss that small smirk on her face. She'd said it to piss him off. 

Isadora shrugged and looked over at the coffee pot, "Been four minutes. The coffee's ready. Pass me your cup." She held out her red gloved hand, and Gyro wordlessly handed her his own tin cup. 

Isadora filled the two cups to the top, leaving enough coffee for their third camper once he returned. The two racers each took drinks of the steaming contents of their cups, and let the silence speak for itself for a few seconds, until someone had to break it. 

"Your coffee tastes like shit." 

"It tastes fine, just shut up and drink it." 

Chapter Text

Flight 1229 from Paris, France, now arriving at gate-

A woman in a green button down jacket with a tan shirt and tan pants sat at the Cairo airport, reading a newspaper, clearly trying to eat up her time before whatever she was waiting for happened. 

Half of her short, curly hair was pulled back by a clip, and a pair of glasses obscured her bored expression. Her heavy boot-clad foot tapped to an invisible beat. 

“ Mon dieu, you’ve gotten old!” A voice said, and Christine rolled her eyes, putting the paper down, “We’re the same age, and I’ve been gone for 3 months,” She said, but there was not an ounce of malice in her words. The Frenchman laughed and Christine stood to hug her closest friend, newspaper long forgotten. 

Christine Meyers and Jean-Pierre Polnareff had moved in together as roommates shortly after returning from Egypt. Their friendship had only grown since their first meeting, like they were a brother and sister. They had undertaken research in association with the Speedwagon Foundation, as well as Christine securing a position with an archaeological organization in Egypt. 

3 months prior, she had been asked to lead a dig in Egypt, and she had uncovered something that made her very nervous, and reminded her of a certain someone.  She had called Polnareff the night of the investigation, and it seemed he had contacted someone else. 

Her attention was directed to the younger man that stood behind Polnareff, and Christine’s smile could do nothing but grow. He had somehow gotten taller and his face had aged, but Christine knew that brooding expression anywhere, “Jotaro Kujo, now that’s who has really grown!” She pushed Polnareff away jokingly, and gave Jotaro an enthusiastic wave. 

“I can’t believe how long it’s been…” She said quietly. The group truly had grown from their days defeating Dio, but the nostalgia couldn’t last. 

“So, you said you found something we needed to see?” Jotaro spoke, and Christine nodded while lowering her hand, “Straight to the point as ever. Yes, I have a car waiting to take us to the site. Let’s keep this conversation there.” She lowered her voice for the last part, and the two men nodded. 

Christine turned, picking up her brown leather satchel and a brown book that Polnareff and Jotaro knew very, very well. 

___

The site was bustling, busy. As Christine stepped out of the car she began speaking orders in both Arabic and English. Truly, she had come into her own in the four years that had passed since her last excursion to Egypt. 

There were all kinds of young students digging in the sand, but one area had been roped off, with an armed guard next to it. The sand there was disturbed, as if something had been dug up. Jotaro and Polnareff could only stare at it as Christine led them to a different area. 

“Here, this tent.” She said, stopping before a tent on the far side of the site. Written on it in big bold letters was a phrase in four languages: English, Arabic, French, and Italian, all reading:

‘ AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY’

Christine opened the flap, ushering Jotaro and Polnareff inside and closing it behind her. On a table was a picture, an empty stone box, and a drawing. A drawing of something the two men hadn’t seen in years. 

“This is what I called you here for. A few days ago, one of my interns reported that another young intern had dug up a box of bronze arrowheads that hadn’t been registered in the artifact library from this dig. Upon further inspection I found out he had stolen them and sold them off in the city.”

Polnareff looked at the picture. It was barely legible, grainy security footage from a nearby city building. However the telltale glint of those arrows was obvious in the picture. The box they had been in seemed to drip with power, too. Like the power from the arrows had seeped into the stone. 

Christine made her way to the other side of the room, to a strongbox, and pulled a necklace out from under her shirt. The necklace was clearly fashioned from some twine she had laying around, as if made in a hurry, and on it hung a little gold key. That gold key was inserted into the lock and the box popped open. 

She pulled out a singular bronze arrowhead, and placed it on the table in front of the two, “This is the only one I was able to recover from the shopkeeper he sold them to. She said he sold her five. But in the security footage, there are more than that. I estimate six, maybe even seven.” 

Both of the men remained quiet as Christine placed her hands on the table, leaning over the objects with a nervous expression, “I called you two because you know firsthand what happens when these get to the wrong people. A box of them was found on this site, I need to remain here and watch the dig to make sure no more are found.”

“So you want us to find the intern, and the people the shopkeeper sold the arrows to,” Jotaro said, and Christine nodded. 

“This city is filled to the brim with tourists, they could be anywhere. And this dig is multinational. Meaning that the intern and any arrows he may have kept could be anywhere. And the arrowheads the shopkeeper had could have ended up anywhere. She successfully sold four, but refused to tell me to whom. I have the fifth.” She looked over at the relic to punctuate her statement. 

“How’d you get that one from her?” Jotaro asked, and Christine momentarily flashed back to her less than desirable interaction with the shopkeeper, whom she had threatened with Apep to even get her to give her the last arrowhead. 

____

“Good afternoon. I heard you recently acquired a set of bronze arrows from a foreigner.” Christine walked up to the bazaar. Her green jacket obscured her organization logo on her breast pocket, but she definitely looked like an archaeologist. 

“I may have. Why would you like to know?” The old lady asked, and Christine put a hand down on the table, “I don't know if you are aware, but they were stolen from an archeological site. My intern sold them to you. Where have they gone?” 

The lady laughed, it was a croaky, old laugh. Like a rickety old chair, “And why exactly would I tell you?!” 

Christine's expression grew even more angry, if that was possible. This lady clearly knew what they were, and might have even known what she was and why she wanted them. 

“I know of you Christine Meyers, from long ago.” The lady said, and Christine snapped. She extended her hand toward the woman, and Apep appeared coiled around her arm, ready to strike. His fangs were bared, and he hissed threateningly. 

“I suggest you start talking, before Apep pumps you so full of venom the hospital won't know what to do with you.” 

_____

“It doesn’t matter. The point is she wouldn’t tell me who bought the remaining ones,” She shook her head. 

Polnareff spoke this time, “Do you have records of the employees on the dig?”

Christine thought for a moment, “Yes, but their information is simply their name and affiliation. I have no identifying information, as their badges don’t feature pictures.” 

“Begin a check-in process, to see if any employees have stopped showing up,” Polnareff suggested, and Christine nodded once, “Smart. I’ll initiate that.”

The three stood in tense silence for a moment, this situation was truly a nightmare. Five, possibly more, unaccounted for arrows scattered across the globe. Only two people could look for them, while one had to stay to make sure no more saw the light of day. 

“You still have the book, have you seen any more stands?” Jotaro asked, and Christine shook her head with a sad laugh, “No. I haven’t. If either of you have, however, I suggest you tell me so I have some new material,” She joked, putting the arrow she had recovered back in the strongbox and locking it again. 

“Polnareff, can you take this back home with you? I don’t want it to remain here in case the thief does return,” She explained her reasoning as she held up the metal box. Polnareff nodded and she sighed in relief. 

“Alright, Jotaro, we have the arrow. If you do find any, please tell me, as soon as you realize where it is and who has it. Because we all know, where there are arrows, there are users.” 

With those final words ringing in the air, Christine clapped her hands to dissolve the tension.

“Alright, the dig ends in an hour and once security checks are made, I’m taking you two out for a drink.” She offered, and neither man seemed to want to pass up the offer of good food and alcohol given this new revelation. 

___

The place they had gone seemed relatively nice, all things considered. The three sat at a table with a few beers, all chatting aimlessly. For the most part. Jotaro wasn’t speaking much but he did seem to be enjoying himself at the very least. 

“When are you returning home, Christine?” Polnareff asked and Christine shrugged, “I anticipated in another month. But with this new revelation I may have to remain here indefinitely,” She sighed and leaned back in her chair, “What about you? How have things been back home?” 

“Quiet.” Polnareff said and Jotaro hummed, “You two are still roommates?” 

They both nodded, “It’s been alright. Polnareff doesn’t bring anyone around too often so I hardly notice him,” She teased and the man sputtered, “I am waiting for the right person before I enter any sort of relationship, and with your new task for us it seems that won’t be happening.” 

“My apologies that one of the employees turned out to be either evil, or greedy. Possibly both.” 

The conversation continued, and eventually Jotaro would stand, saying his goodnights and heading back to the hotel, leaving Polnareff and Christine at the table. Though both noticed his hesitation leaving the restaurant at night. 

“I’m sorry to have dragged you back here. It doesn’t exactly bring up the best memories,” Christine sighed, and Polnareff shook his head, “I imagine it doesn’t bring back the fondest memories for you, either.”

The two let their statements hang in the air. They were heavy, loaded with years of undiscussed trauma. The two never sat down to discuss what happened four years prior, simply moved forward and threw themselves into their work to distract themselves. Now that their foe had reared its ugly head again…

There was no easy way to discuss it. It hadn’t been very long since the events of 1989.

“I still think about them a lot. Avdol, Iggy, Kakyoin.” Christine stared at her beer bottle sadly, and Polnareff hummed in agreement. Kakyoin would’ve been in college by this point. The thought absolutely sent Christine into a tailspin. 

“I thought it was all my fault. I thought they died because of me, and sometimes I still do. Especially Iggy and Avdol,” Christine confessed, not meeting Polnareff’s eyes that she could feel on her. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, knowing that he had watched both of their friends die along with her. She opted instead to put her focus on the beer bottle she had lifted from the table. 

There was another bout of silence, before Polnareff spoke up, “I often thought that myself. It’s good to know I wasn’t alone. Why did you never say anything?” He asked, and Christine looked out the window, setting the bottle she had been messing with back on the table.

“Because I had thought that if I said that, you would believe it. And our friendship would end.” 

Polnareff laughed, and Christine looked at him in shock, “Why are you laughing? What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Christine, you really believe I would think that? Our friendship runs deeper than that, I had thought you knew that,” He said through his chuckling, and Christine sighed. She knew it was true. 

Once they had landed in France, Christine’s injuries and lack of pain medication caught up with her. The physical therapy she had undergone was intense. She still wasn’t fully recovered mentally from the whole ordeal, marked by an irrational fear of radio towers and motorcycles, as well as intense recurring nightmares of Vanilla Ice and Dio. Polnareff had been by her side through it all, encouraging her, making sure she would get through it. She had been there for him, too. Helping him to grieve for both his own sister and his lost friends. The two were rocks for each other. Like they were flesh and blood. 

“Avdol would have said something like that. They’d be angry with us for how we’re acting, wouldn’t they?”

“ Oui, I believe so. So perhaps we stop living in the past. We have futures ahead of us.” Polnareff lifted his beer bottle, and Christine looked at him for a few moments, before lifting her own to meet his, “We have futures ahead of us. No more of the past.” 

Christine took a drink with a sad smile on her face. There was not much more to say, but now the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was welcome. Two friends, finally letting the past go, and letting their friends’ memories rest. Letting the trauma float away on the warm breeze. 

The book beside Christine, the photo in Jotaro’s office. Two relics to tell the story of those gone, and two people ready to tell their story as a legend, instead of an epitaph. 

___

“So one of the arrows was in Japan?” Christine spoke into the receiver at her dining room table, flicking on the kitchen light and  through her leather book with a fury unlike she knew she was capable of. Jotaro had called her, waking her up from a dead sleep at 4 AM to deliver this information, and it had shocked her awake. 

“What is going on?” Polnareff spoke, having wheeled out of his own room with an obnoxious yawn. 

“Jotaro found one. In Japan.” She said, covering the receiver to speak to him, and his own eyes widened as he froze mid stretch, “So we have another one recovered?” She asked into the receiver, and nodded once when Jotaro confirmed what she said. 

“There is one more here, I’m staying until we find it,” Jotaro said and Christine furrowed her brows, “We- did you bring Mr. Joestar?!” She exclaimed, and Polnareff came closer to the table. 

“No, I don’t care that Hermit Purple can help you find it-” She groaned and hung her head, handing the landline to Polnareff while she processed this information. Said man took the phone and began to ask question after question in Christine's stead. 

As the questions flowed her brain began to work again and she slowly looked over at the receiver with wide eyes, “Japan… he said Japan. Polnareff, where in Japan? Ask him where,” She insisted, standing up and leaning closer. 

Shebwas alert, nervous. There was one place she prayed it wasn't.

The name Polnareff spoke made her face pale. Morioh, Japan. The town her niece had moved to just days before. 

In 1999, Christine and Polnareff were still living together. Things hadn't changed much, except for Polnareff's injury he had sustained in Italy. He was in a wheelchair now, and Christine had opted to slow her archeology down to focus on what had happened to Polnareff. 

The first page Christine had filled out in ages. 

The stand had no name, but it had a rough ability and a location. The two were hesitant to track him down again, but they knew they would need to eventually. 

The user led a crime syndicate, a fully matured one, within Naples, Italy. That little Italian intern had grown up to be a mafioso. He was virtually untouchable, in both criminality and power. His stand was worse than Dio's, based on the state Polnareff had returned to France in. 

“Jotaro says there's someone he would like you to talk to.” Polnareff tapped her shoulder and handed her the phone once again, and she answered with a simple hum. 

“His name is Josuke Higashikata. I want you to put him as well as the other users we've found here in Morioh down in the book.”

Her eyes widened a bit and for the first time that night, she cracked a smile. So Jotaro had given her some new material after all. He'd remembered. 

“Are you being serious? Jotaro, this is incredible! Well, not incredible but-” 

“Don't thank me yet. I have a feeling this will only get worse,” Jotaro said, and Christine hummed. 

“Your stand names are-” Jotaro began, and Christine fumbled to grab a pencil, writing as fast as she could to keep up. The first group he had mentioned was a group of high-school students, each with very interesting stands. Their powers and descriptions were nothing like what had been written previously.

“The next team we have is Heaven’s Door and Clint Eastwood, belonging to Rohan Kishibe and Jade Sato-Stephens-” 

Christine dropped her pencil. 

Chapter Text

For Rohan Kishibe, October 31st didn't mean much, just another day of work, perhaps the occasional play. A day where nothing extraordinary really happened, even by regular standards. The word extraordinary didn’t mean much in Morioh anymore. 

However, this year October 31st took a different meaning, because his American-raised girlfriend had a different opinion on the day.

Jade Sato-Stephens bounded into the room excitedly, wearing a huge grin, plopping down next to the man on the floor in front of the television. 

Halloween, undoubtedly a favorite holiday of Jade’s. She had fond memories of trick or treating and haunted houses back home, and while she couldn't quite sell Rohan on the ‘dressing up’ idea, she had sold him on her favorite Halloween film, Ghostbusters, for a spooky movie night.

She had the help of Clint Eastwood to bring a small TV and DVD player to his house, spending a good amount of the afternoon excitedly setting it all up. 

It was a bit endearing to Rohan how excited she was, carefully plugging things in and testing them with a focused frown as the sun slowly sank. He tended to forget that, when prompted, she could be just as driven as he was. Simply watching her was entertainment enough for the evening, but the film had peaked his interest. Ghosts had always been an interest of Rohan’s anyway, a good story never failing to capture his attention. 

Once she had finished setting everything up she went back into the kitchen, retrieving the small bags of candy she had purchased for the occasion, saying something about, ‘tradition to eat Halloween candy and watch a scary movie’.

The two settled in as the movie opened up on the New York Library, Jade watching with a bright grin and Rohan already slightly confused as to why a library was so relevant to this film. The subtitles didn't help him much, as there really wasn’t any dialogue. 

He'd have his answer a few moments later, as the card catalog began to fly everywhere on screen. Rohan leaned forward a bit, and Jade had to bite back an excited laugh. It seemed the film had his attention.

As the film progressed, the two grew more and more comfortable, eventually leaning on one another and Rohan actually beginning to eat some of the snacks Jade had provided. The film rolled on, with the main characters beginning to see and hunt the ghosts around New York, and of course, Rohan adding his commentary. 

“A condemned firehouse?” He asked, and Jade shook her head, “Not condemned, just… run down. You’re telling me you bought this place in pristine condition?” She teased, and Rohan side-eyed her. 

“I guess eccentrics just have a flair for the unique. No shame in it.”

At one point, while Jade was explaining what a Twinkie was after a plot point in the movie left Rohan slightly confused, there was a loud crash from upstairs. The two looked over at the stairs near the entry, and then at each other. 

The crash came again, and both stood up, the movie forgotten. 

“Rohan, you didn’t get a cat or…” Jade began to ask, but she trailed off. He absolutely wouldn’t. The two slowly began to move toward the stairs, neither making a sound, but listening for the crash again. 

The third crash had both of them summoning their stands and running up the stairs. They stopped after the first flight, on the second floor, and waited in tense silence. There were footsteps, and a loud thud, followed by a loud scream from Rohan’s office. The two immediately bolted into action. 

Jade went in first, throwing open the door and sending Clint Eastwood straight for the assailant. Rohan brought up the rear, but stopped when he realized just what had happened. 

Okuyasu laid on the floor with Clint Eastwood on top of him. The little Jeep had hit him at full force and sent him flying back with a loud grunt. Josuke and Koichi stood on either side of him, worriedly staring down at their friend, before slowly turning their attention to the two users in the doorway. 

Jade and Rohan were both furious, but Rohan spoke up first. His tone was hauntingly calm, only asking a simple, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Josuke and Koichi began to give stammering, conflicting answers, while Jade recalled Clint and Okuyasu sat up. She then turned her attention to Koichi, “Koichi, care to explain?”

Josuke and Okuyasu looked at Koichi, and so did Rohan. All eyes were on the teen as he began to sweat. Josuke and Okuyasu looked expectant, Rohan looked furious, and Jade just crossed her arms, “Koichi.”

“Josuke and Okuyasu thought it’d be funny to play a Halloween prank on Rohan-Sensei, and brought me along as a lookout! But then Okuyasu dropped something and we had to cover for him and-” 

Jade sighed and shook her head, “What exactly were you planning to do?” 

Now it was Josuke’s turn to look guilty, and Rohan stepped forward, “What did you plan, brat?”

“Hey hey,” Jade gently grabbed Rohan’s arm and pulled him back to her side, “Cool it. What was your plan here?” She turned back to Josuke, “We were going to replace all of Rohan-sensei’s pens with these invisible ink ones,” he explained. 

Jade began to laugh and put a hand over her mouth, screwing her eyes shut and biting the inside of her hand to keep from laughing. Rohan looked at her in shock, “You find that funny?!”

Jade nodded a few times, and Rohan looked back at the teens, “Out of my house. Now.” 

The three scurried off while Jade tried to catch her breath from her laughing fit. 

Though once the three got down the stairs, they’d see Clint Eastwood carrying three envelopes with their names on them. 

“I expected as much from the idiot and the brat, but not Koichi.” Rohan muttered angrily and Jade pat his shoulder while wiping tears away from how hard she had laughed, “No harm no foul. I don’t think they had the time to replace everything anyway,” Jade tried to say, but Rohan had moved her hand off of him and began walking to his desk. 

“Cmon, Rohan, let’s just finish the movie.” Jade sighed, but Rohan ignored her. He rifled through his desk, making note of all of his supplied being in working order, and after a while, finally noticed the black box on his desk. 

“Those brats left their prank behind.” He held it up and examined it. It seemed like an ordinary box, just a black cardboard one with a lid. Not exactly effective for carrying around pens.

“Open it, maybe the pens are in it?” Jade asked, and Rohan slowly lifted the box’s lid. 

And a massive, fake spider launched out of the box. To Rohan’s non-reaction. 

“No, no come on!” Jade’s jaw dropped and she looked at her boyfriend in shock. Her Master prank hadn't worked?!

“You’re not good at hiding things, Jade,” Rohan replied, and Jade groaned, “I paid the boys 2,000 yen each to help with this,” She hung her head, walking over and taking the box from him and looking at it. 

“What are you even scared of?” Jade asked, and Rohan simply took the box back and set it down without a word. Clearly he wasn’t going to say. She huffed and turned to walk out of the room to keep watching the movie, sad that her entire plan had fallen flat. She opened the office door back up into the hallway.

Only to be confronted with a massive, real spider in the hallway. Jade shrieked and stumbled backward into the office, falling onto her butt and pointing at the 8-legged monstrosity. And Rohan, ever the loving and considerate boyfriend, began to laugh.

As Jade put a hand on her chest to calm her heart, she slowly made the connections and looked up at him, “Rohan?!”

“Maybe I can get used to Halloween. That reaction alone gave me enough manga material for the month of October,” Rohan crossed his arms with a smug smirk, and Jade quickly got to her feet with her own evil grin. 

“Oh, it’s on, now.” 

Chapter Text

“There. That’s the last of the firewood I could find.” Isadora called as she approached the encampment, dropping an armload of sticks near her tent. 

“That's all you could find?” Gyro spoke up and Isadora glared, “Without cutting whole trees down, yes. What? Is there a problem?” 

Johnny sighed, “Can you two stop it. You guys have been bickering for hours now.” 

The two racers crossed their arms and turned away from each other with indignant noises. 

It was true. Gyro Zeppeli and Isadora Meyers had been bickering since she encountered them on the trail. Once Isadora’s identity had been revealed, Gyro Zeppeli’s opinion on her had completely changed, and Isadora was very upset with that. It made for an interesting ride, and once they had finally agreed to set up camp, the bickering had only gotten worse. 

After a few moments of tense silence, Isadora's irritated frown became a wicked grin. She knew how she'd get back at Gyro for that little quip. 

“We should stop fighting. After all, we wouldn't want the wailing woman to hear it and come after us,” She said, causing both men to look at her, confused. 

“The wailing woman?” They both asked, and Isadora feigned shock, “You two don't know?! She's The most horrific entity to follow those on the trail, especially on this side of the country!” 

“Entity? I don't believe she exists then, you're just making it up.” Gyro rolled his eyes, and nudged Johnny, “No such thing as ghosts, right Johnny?” 

Johnny slowly nodded in agreement, but Isadora was already moving to sit near the fire across from them. 

“No, you don't understand. She is as real as you and I. As real as Tusk or Hotel California. They say she was once the most beautiful woman in all the land. She had many suitors, and even more secret admirers.” 

Isadora looked at Gyro and Johnny to see their reactions. Gyro was still feigning disinterest, though he hadn't interrupted her. Johnny was watching her, interested in the story. 

“One day, she finally married the most handsome man in her town. The wedding was a huge affair, with the whole town involved. The two were a beautiful couple, and they had two beautiful children together. Their lives were idyllic…” She trailed off with a dreamy smile. 

Johnny raised a brow, “Then how did she become the wailing woman?” 

“Well, one day, a woman more beautiful than her came to the town. Her husband left her and their children, to run off with this new, more beautiful girl-” 

“So she’s crying over her husband. That’s just normal stuff, what's so scary about that?” Gyro finally interrupted and Isadora smirked. 

She got him. 

“The woman was so distraught, she ran home to her two children. They cried and asked for their father, who would never come home. The woman, driven mad by her own grief, took her children to the river nearby.”

Gyro and Johnny both seemed to subconsciously lean forward, seeing where the story was going. Isadora leaned back on her hands with a sad sigh. 

“She threw them into the river, and the two children were swept away, drowning. The woman went home, satisfied. But as she entered the quiet house, she began to regret what she did.” 

The two men were silent, waiting with baited breath, and Isadora finally delivered the blow, “She ran back to the riverbed, frantically searching for her children. But they were long gone. She ran up and down the bank, screaming for her children, until she tripped. She hit her head and died on the riverbank.” 

Isadora leaned closer, “To this day, at night, near rivers, you can still hear her wailing for her children. And if she sees you, she will chase you, believing you to either be her lost child, the man who left her, or the woman who took her husband away. And if she touches you, you will die, too.” 

The silence was tense, with Gyro and Johnny not moving for a few moments after Isadora finished her story. 

Gyro was the first to scoff, “That's just a superstition. I don't believe that for a moment.” 

Isadora shrugged, “Suit yourself. I suppose I'll head to bed then. You two can stay up longer if you'd like.” Isadora slowly got up and went into her small tent, leaving the two men behind. 

“You don't believe her, do you, Johnny?” Gyro asked, and Johnny was quiet, causing Gyro to laugh, “You're so gullible! There's no such thing as-” 

The Italian man was interrupted by a voice. It was low, raspy, and speaking directly in his ear. 

“Where have my children gone…” It whispered, causing the man to jump and let out a loud yell. On instinct, he threw a steel ball toward his assailant, but there was nothing to be seen. 

Johnny, having heard the voice too, looked around frantically. It came again, “You left me…” it rasped. 

Johnny and Gyro scanned the area, but saw nothing. There was no sign of another racer, and no sign of an enemy stand. They carefully moved closer to one another, and that's when they heard it. 

A loud, high-pitched scream in the distance. 

Gyro and Johnny both scrambled to the other side of the fire, hugging each other for some type of comfort, and the scream was replaced by a loud laugh. 

“I got you boys good!!” Isadora laughed loudly, from the direction the scream came. 

“Wh-what?!” Gyro yelled, finally spotting the red cicadas perched on Isadora’s tent. 

She had used her stand to prank them, to scare them. Isadora doubled over into the dirt, her laughter getting louder as Gyro pushed Johnny away and stormed over, “You think you’re funny?!”

Isadora nodded, wiping tears from her eyes, “Yes, in fact I do. The look on your face was invaluable!” She began to laugh again, remembering the boy's terrified faces.  

Gyro muttered swears under his breath and turned to look at Johnny, who had also begun to laugh. It was a good prank, he had to admit. When he looked back at Isadora, she had stood up and was brushing the dirt from her clothes, still laughing softly, “I’m sorry. It was nothing personal. Here, you can get me back next time.” She held out her hand. 

A signal of a truce. 

Gyro eyed the hand warily, before taking it and shaking it once with a frown. Isadora’s smile grew, and she accepted the fact that Gyro Zeppeli would never admit that he had been pranked, especially by a girl. 

Chapter Text

• Unpredictably

“There’s no way Rohan-sensei is dating Jade!” Josuke Higashikata said, his school bag slung over his shoulder. He, Koichi, and Okuyasu were walking home after school, and Koichi just had to explain what he had heard from Yukako the last weekend. 

‘It’s true! Yukako saw them kiss at the train station when she was leaving for S-City!” The shortest of the group insisted, causing Okuyasu to scoff, “Rohan-sensei dating anyone is like the sky falling. Ain’t gonna happen.”

“You remember when Jade broke his nose, Koichi. No way the two are together.” Josuke continued, and Koichi huffed, “She comes back from her University on Friday. We can wait at the train station and I can prove it!” 

“Whatever you say, Koichi. I think Yukako was lying to you, probably some weird girlfriend trick or something.” Josuke shook his head and the three continued their walk to their respective houses. It was Wednesday, so Koichi would have to wait just two short days to prove his claim. 

As the big day rolled around, the boys put their plan into action. Their mission, catch Rohan and Jade doing anything couple-y. The first task was to see if Rohan did, in fact, meet her at the station. 

Josuke, Okuyasu, and Koichi all ditched school, hiding behind a tree near Rohan’s house to see when he left. 

“Koichi, what time does Jade usually get back?” Josuke asked, and the teen checked his watch, “6 PM, according to Yukako.”

It was 5 PM now. Josuke leaned on his hands as he sat on the sidewalk, “This is so boring. There’s no way Rohan-sensei would date Jade, he probably was just using her for manga stuff or something.”

“Yea, doesn’t she read a lot? She’s smart, she’s probably helping him.” Okuyasu yawned and stretched, he was getting bored too. Koichi checked his watch again, the sun was beginning to set and Rohan still hadn’t left. 

“You remember that night on the corner, how lovey-dovey they were acting. I believe Yukako.” Koichi insisted, and finally, he’d have his break, “Look!” He whispered, causing  Josuke and Okuyasu to peer over the bush. 

The duo’s eyes widened, as they saw Rohan Kishibe leaving his house. He walked down the pathway, and onto the sidewalk, toward the train station. Koichi turned to look at his two friends with a smirk, “It’s too late for errands or meetings. But not too late to meet your girlfriend.” 

“He probably just has to pick something up. Look, let’s keep following him, and we’ll prove that he’s not going to meet Jade.” Josuke said, standing up. Koichi pulled him back down, “Wait! He’s going to see you. Let’s just go to the train station another way, and see if he shows up.” 

___

Rohan had to fight the urge to confront the three, hiding in the bushes. Of course he had seen them, the Higashikata brat had the volume control of a raging elephant. He couldn’t enjoy one moment of peace without them interfering? 

Of course they were right, he was going to pick Jade up from the station. 

He walked down the sidewalk, trying to decide what he wanted to do about it. There was the option to use Heaven’s Door, but he didn’t feel like dealing with Jade if she found out. There was also the option of just outright telling them. 

That was too easy. No, Rohan wanted to make this funny. Keep them from snooping around his life again. 

He arrived at the station roughly 15 minutes before Jade’s train would, and leaned against a pillar. He checked his watch, waiting for the three hooligans to make their thundering appearance. Sure enough, it took them all of 5 minutes to arrive after him, hiding behind another pillar a few meters away. 

Did they think he was that stupid? 

For 10 minutes he would have to ignore their hushed squabbling, instead watching people come and go through the station. Couples meeting for first dates, friends setting off for a fun night on the town. It was busy, which worked in his favor. The more people that saw this the better, he figured. 

Jade was not going to be very pleased with this. 

The train pulled into the station right on time, and Koichi pointed to direct the other two, “There’s Jade!”

Sure enough, the green-haired girl stepped off the train with a tired smile, donning her university baseball jacket and a high ponytail. She scanned the station, spotting Rohan leaning against a pillar a ways away. Her smile grew and she waved, quickly walking over to him. 

“See, told you!” Koichi said, and Okuyasu laughed, “Yea, that doesn’t prove anything. Gotta do better than that.”

The trio watched Jade finally stand in front of Rohan and smile. They talked for a moment, before Rohan pointed straight at them. Jade looked over and her eyes widened. She turned back to say something to Rohan, but the three boys all yelled out in surprise at what happened next. 

Rohan had leaned forward and kissed Jade, pulling her closer by her waist with both arms. Jade put her hands on his elbows to steady herself, reciprocating the kiss, of course. 

Josuke and Okuyasu stared with slack jaws at the sight in front of them, while Koichi crossed his arms with a smug smile, “See, and you guys didn’t believe me.” 

• Softly

“Rohan, it’s 2 AM…” Jade said tiredly. 

She had come over to work on her schoolwork while Rohan worked on his manga. This was a pretty normal occurrence. The two were busy people, and while they often lacked time for dates or other activities, they did enjoy working together. 

Sometime around 11 PM, Jade had fallen asleep on the floor of Rohan’s office, papers and textbooks scattered around her, and her university jacket draped over her shoulders like a blanket. Rohan, who was fully engrossed in this chapter, continued to work well after he heard Jade’s soft snores, losing track of the time. 

The young woman had found herself blinking awake in a pile of her own notes, the office dark save for Rohan’s desk light. The mangaka was hunched over his work, he didn’t seem to notice that she was awake again, so she tiptoed over. 

“We really should call it a night…” She whispered, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and laying her head on his shoulder. 

“You’re welcome to go home if you’re tired. I would like to finish this.” Rohan said, and Jade grumbled something about ruining his health if he didn’t sleep. 

She felt her eyes droop again, Rohan was surprisingly warm. The artist turned his head a bit to look at his newest accessory, who was dozing off standing up. He sighed a bit, and gently shook her, “Don’t fall asleep here. You should go home.” 

Jade swatted his hand away, and Rohan finally had enough. He carefully moved her arms and stood up, taking her hand and leading her out of the room, “Come on, then.” 

He took her down the hall, to his own room, and helped her crawl into his bed. Well, she didn’t need much help. She flopped onto the mattress without hesitation, falling asleep virtually the moment her head hit the pillow, without so much as a word. Rohan manuvered her and managed to get the blanket pulled over her, stepping back to just look at what now occupied his own bed. She certainly was a mess.

He leaned forward a bit to get some of his girlfriend’s hair out of her face, watching her relaxed expression for a moment. 

She was pretty like this, not that she ordinarily wasn’t. But completely relaxed, vulnerable, she was a different kind of pretty. He pressed a very soft kiss to her lips, before quietly exiting the room once again to return to his work, letting Jade sleep. 

• Comfortingly

Two people stood on the corner of a street in Morioh, one holding a bouquet of pink flowers, the other simply staring blankly down the adjoining alleyway. Jade, who held the flowers, squatted down on the balls of her feet and propped the bundle of pink foliage up on the side of the building with a gentle smile. 

“Wanna say anything, Rohan?” She looked up at the man, wrapping her arms around her knees for some stability. 

It had been a year since Reimi had left Morioh, and Jade had decided to leave some flowers for her. Rohan had offered to come along, playing it off as a courtesy, but Jade knew he secretly wanted to come as well. 

“What could I have to say that hasn’t already been said. She isn’t here, so it doesn’t matter.” He crossed his arms, and Jade sighed, “It’s not for her to hear, it’s for you to get things off your chest, give her an update, or something.” 

Rohan didn’t say anything, so Jade spoke again, “Like, telling her that you’re beginning to plot the finale of Pink Dark Boy.” She suggested, and Rohan once again stayed silent, staring at the entry to the alley. 

“You’re a lot like her, you know. Perhaps that why I haven’t missed her as much now that she’s gone.” Rohan finally said, and Jade blinked, before looking back at the flowers and smiling, “That’s a start I suppose. It’s nice to know I remind you of your dead babysitter.” 

“That’s not what I meant, and you know that.” Rohan daid, and Jade laughed a bit. She stood back up and took his hand, “I know what you meant, don’t worry. I know you miss her, even if you don’t want to say it.” She brought his hand to her lips and gave is a soft kiss, “Do you want to go?” 

Rohan shook his head, lost in his own thoughts. Jade nodded once, and stood next to him. For as long as it took. 

• Passionately

“Did you see the look on their faces?” Jade laughed, removing her white heels in the entryway to her house. Rohan couldn’t help but laugh a bit as well, holding Jade’s hand to keep her steady. 

“I was surprised they figured it out so quickly, though I suppose we have Koichi’s girlfriend to thank for that.” Rohan said, and Jade stepped up into the house, reaching into the bag and handing him the manile folder with their marriage certificate. 

“Care to do the honors?” She said with a sly smile, and Rohan raised a brow, “Why are you looking at me like that, what did you do?” He asked, and Jade rolled her eyes, “Just open it, I want to see!” 

Rohan took the envelope and pulled the seal, carefully sliding the official document out from its paper prison. He scanned it once, and his eyes widened. He scanned it again, and then a third time. 

“Jade, did you intend to write your name that way?” He finally asked the woman in front of him.

Jade didn’t answer, simply walked into the kitchen with a mischievous look in her eye. Rohan followed her, setting the paper down on the table in the entryway, “You said you didn’t want to-”

“Change my name?” She leaned back onto the kitchen counter, propped up against the edge with her hands as Rohan stood in front of her, “What the hell am I going to do with you, Mrs. Sato-Kishibe?” He asked, and Jade’s devious smile grew. 

“Well, Mr. Kishibe. There was something we did at the courthouse that I am very intrigued to do again, if it’s all the same to you.” 

Jade didn’t have to explain further, Rohan was kissing her as she brought her sentence to an end, his hands planted on her waist. She moved closer to him, arms draping over his shoulders. The two simply shared kiss after kiss in the kitchen, excited to finally tackle this crazy, noisy, bizarre town together.

Chapter Text

Godspeed, Reimi

Jade watched their young friend disappear into the sky with a small frown. 

It was over. She had killed Yoshikage Kira, Reimi’s soul had moved on, and now things could get back to how they were supposed to be. 

She put her hands in the pockets of her baseball jacket and turned to walk away, ignoring the man she had stood next to.

Rohan watched the young woman go, an irritated glare masking the confusion on his face. He was angry, of course. Jade had shut down or ignored his attempts to apologize so far today, and when she had dispatched the serial killer terrorizing the town, she walked right past him, going to their mutual friend Koichi for comfort. 

He wasn't jealous. Just annoyed. 

They had been friends. They had gotten closer since their fight with the rock paper scissors kid. Things had been going great… until he kissed her. 

Joseph Joestar watched Jade leave without a word as well. Surely he’d judged them right. Something had to have happened. 

As the crowd dispersed and the sun set, Rohan would go home as well, lost in his own thoughts about what he had just done. 

Jade walked in the door of her house and closed the door behind her with a heavy sigh. Some crush, she thought. 

She had come to the insane realization that she liked Rohan the day before, but after the events leading up to today’s confrontation, she knew it wasn't exactly the best of choices. 

Rohan was impulsive, he didn’t think about things before he did them. That kiss, his words to her on the street the night before, she couldn't exactly put stock in them. 

As she peeled her sneakers off her feet and hung her jacket in the coat closet, she made up her mind. 

Kira was dead, and that meant she would not have to see Rohan Kishibe anymore. So she’d just have to avoid him until she moved on. She could do that. Live a simple life here in Morioh, and make this the restart on her life she deserved. 

___ 

Easier said than done. 

Jade had taken to refreshing her studies at Deux Margots and who else would continue to show up but the bane of her existence, Rohan Kishibe. 

He wouldn't approach her. Just sat, working on his own endeavors in silence. Jade would sit and write, highlighting textbooks and working on translations in silence. On many occasions, their friends would join, usually Koichi joining Rohan and Josuke joining Jade. 

The two always came together and split up amongst their tables, and then left together afterwards. Jade noticed. No doubt Rohan did too. 

This continued for roughly a week, with Jade moving through her textbooks and Rohan seeming to never run out of work. Koichi joined him and Josuke sat with Jade, the two just chatting away. 

One day, Jade finally had enough of it. 

“I know what you're trying to do.” She said without looking up, and Josuke choked on the sip of his drink he was taking, before laughing nervously and setting the glass on the table, “What do you mean?!” 

Jade put her pen down, looked up, and pulled her reading glasses off her face with a glare, “You and Koichi. Talking to Rohan and I separately and then leaving together. We’re not making up, so don't even try. That man has done more than enough.” She said, the last sentence uttered through gritted teeth, as she picked her pen back up and continued writing in the margins of one of the textbooks. 

“Listen, we don't even know why you two got into that argument on the street-” 

“We got into the fight after we found Kosaku Kawajiri’s home address because of a stand user I warned him about. I was right, he wouldn't admit it without being an ass, and called me insufferable and annoying and then had the nerve to kiss me after that-” Jade’s talking speed increased the more she remembered the confrontation, but Josuke stuck on one detail of her rant. 

“Wait, wait he kissed you-” 

Jade glared at Josuke again, before standing up and collecting her books, “Whatever you're trying to get me to do, I'm not doing it. Tell Rohan to shove it.” Jade haphazardly shoved the books into her messenger bag and stormed away, and Koichi looked back at Josuke with wide eyes. 

“Care to tell me what that was about, Brat?” Rohan spoke up from his table, and the two teens look over at him, their surprise melting into fear. They had definitely messed up.

“Listen Rohan-sensei, I heard the fight you had with Jade that night, you guys were a street over.” 

“Eavesdropping as well, now, I should've expected that much. Didn't your mother ever tell you how rude that is?” Rohan scoffed, but Josuke wasn't done. 

“You like her! And you messed up and now she doesn't like you! Which is stupid because she does!” 

Rohan didn't look up from his drawing, but his pen stopped abruptly. 

“It's true. In Reimi's alleyway, with Cheap Trick. Jade was the one who tracked you all the way there. Jade wanted to help you. She went alone to the Futatsu-Mori Tunnel to get you, too!” Koichi explained, standing from his chair in front of Rohan. After a few moments of tense silence, Rohan continued to sketch.

“Well, if she wanted to put herself in danger for no reason, who am I to stop her?” 

Josuke slammed his fist on the table, “You need to apologize, Rohan-sensei. I know you crossed a line.” 

“Why should I have to apologize? One, I don't take advice or orders from you ,” He set his pen down and crossed his arms, “And Jade Sato-Stephens is not an integral part of my life. Her presence in it is not something I need.” 

Josuke grit his teeth but Koichi carefully pulled his friend back, “Maybe we should give this a rest.” 

Rohan would finally uncross his arms, “Yes, I agree. Go pester someone else.” 

The two teens, one sending a sharp look the mangaka's way, would leave. However the mangaka didn't continue his work, instead staring at his panel drafts in deep thought.

Koichi said Jade had gone into the tunnel alone. She could have been captured and potentially killed by a stand she wasn't even aware of. She'd also managed to follow him without being seen, to help with Cheap Trick. 

And of course, how could he forget that Jade had been the one to end it all with Yoshikage Kira. 

She wasn't stupid, he realized, she was fearless. And she definitely did like him. And he had absolutely blown it with what he had said to her that night.

His expression hardened into a glare as he stared at the sketchbook on his table. 

Why had he come to the coffee shop so often lately? His home or even the city square were places he could also sketch with little interruption. Now that Kira was gone he had no excuse to patrol or monitor the streets. 

His eyes slid over to the table Jade always sat at, with her books. Jade brought three books with her every time. A rather damaged copy of The Tale of Genji, and two Japanese textbooks. She also brought a notebook and her normal satchel with her. 

The first time she came, he had been passing by and elected to sit down. The next day he came, hoping to see her. And he did. 

The two settled into an unspoken routine, and Rohan liked it. He rather enjoyed the routine. Having someone there without them being right there. 

But he also missed her pestering, her questions about the characters in his Manga. She wanted to know everything. She quite frankly did. Jade was observant. She knew his mannerisms, and could read him like a book, figuring out his motivations and methods without so much as looking at him twice.  

He wasn't used to being so easily read like that. He was supposed to do all the reading, yet she had him figured out just by paying attention. By reading not only his manga, but him. 

____

Jade kicked a rock down the sidewalk, sniffling. She hated crying, but how could she not? She had really liked Rohan, and was hoping he would man up and say sorry at some point. But apparently not. 

Of course she had noticed him coming to the cafe. It was an unspoken hope of hers that he was coming to see her. Jade would curse the day she ever let herself think that.

She kicked the same rock again as she walked, and blinked when she heard the rock stop abruptly against something. The young woman looked up, seeing what her rock had hit against. It was a woman. 

“O-oh. My apologies, ma'am.” Jade said, but the lady just smiled sadly. 

“It's alright. You look down. What's a pretty young girl like you got to be sad about?” 

Jade felt her tears build again, and a pit of guilt swirl in her stomach as she looked at the woman. 

“I… I just got my heart broken. Nothing serious.” 

The lady adjusted her groceries and put a hand on the girl's shoulder. 

“Would you like to join me for a cup of tea? I just got my heart broken, too. And I could use the company. I don't have many friends…” the lady laughed. 

“Sure, yea. My name is Jade Sato-Stephens.” Jade bowed politely, and the lady gave a small bow in return, “Shinobu Kawajiri. Nice to meet you.”

Jade gestured for the lady to lead the way, trying her best to ignore the fact that she knew excatly who Shinobu Kawajiri was, and she 100% was the reason Mrs. Kawajiri was heartbroken. 

As the two walked, Jade tried her best to explain her situation. Of course, a lot of details were changed, between the omission of stands, to the omission of Jade effectively killing the man that had posed as her husband. 

Business Deals that would have hurt Rohan immeasurably became the users she risked her life against. Less high stakes, but still stakes nonetheless. Mrs. Kawajiri listened, as the two entered her home. Jade helped her put her groceries away as she talked about her little boy Hayato, and how his dad had abruptly left after years of marriage. 

Jade felt awful. She was listening to the struggles of the wife of a man that was dead, and whose replacement she killed barely a week ago.

Finally, when the two were up to speed on each other, Jade and Mrs. Kawajiri sat across from each other at the dining room table, cradling mugs of warm tea. 

“So, you said this Rohan person was someone you had to work with a lot. Why do you like him?” 

That question was a hard one to answer. 

“W-well. I like how straightforward he can be. He doesn't show his emotions very often, but you know where you stand with him, good or bad. He's a bit arrogant and he can be a massive jerk, but he also pays attention. He sees every little detail, and can find something artistic in just about anything.” 

Shinobu smiled a bit, “My husband was the same. You always knew where you stood. Before he left, it seemed as though things were going well. But I guess not.” She sighed, and Jade carefully reached a hand forward, grasping Shinobu's own hand. 

“Things often get worse before they get better. I learned that a while ago.”

Yoshikage Kira had left a hole in a lot of people. Two of them sat at the same kitchen table, simply pondering what could have been. 

The two would chat about anything and everything under the sun, laughing and smiling until the front door opened. 

Hayato Kawajiri entered the house, and the two felt their hearts stop. Hayato’s eyes widened in recognition. The woman he learned was responsible for killing Yoshikage Kira now sat having tea with his mom in their dining room.

Jade couldn't react. She had to remain strong. Jade gave a bright grin and a small wave, “Ah! You must be Hayato! It's very nice to meet you. My name is Jade Sato-Stephens, I’m new to Morioh.” 

Hayato gave a bow, and carefully walked over to the two women in the kitchen. 

“Hayato, say something!” Shinobu scolded, but Jade laughed and shook her head, “He doesn't have to. Trust me, I think I understand him pretty well.” She looked at him, “I just hope he can understand me.” 

Hayato didn't miss what she meant by that. It was an ask for forgiveness. Jade owned up, she had been the one that killed Yoshikage Kira, and by extension, she had killed Hayato Kawajiri's dad. 

“Being without a dad is hard. I'm having to get used to it myself. But Hayato seems like a strong kid. He'll grow up to be great. Just watch.” Jade smiled to the child, and the child nodded once in response. 

It took a while, but Jade eventually took her leave from the Kawajiri's, deciding to head home, to think alone. 

Of course, that meant passing Rohan's house.

When she came to it, she stared up at the house on the corner, leaning against the tree she and Rohan had gone to when his house had gone up in flames.

The light in his office was still on. Then again, it seemed like it never turned off. That man could work through the apocalypse and still find a task to complete. 

She sighed, shoving her hands in her pockets and letting her satchel hang by her side, weighing her shoulder down. 

“Love fucking sucks.” She muttered, toe digging at a tree root on the ground. 

“I tend to agree.” 

Jade jumped and stumbled back, dropping her bag and falling squarely on her ass with a pained groan. She hadn't expected anyone to be out here, much less Rohan Kishibe. 

“What the hell, how long were you there?!” She yelled, and looked over at the mangaka who sat on the ground on the other side of the tree, just out of sight from where she had been standing. 

“Long enough. Were you going to continue to watch my house like a stalker or actually come talk to me?” 

Jade's eyes widened, “Oh you're impossible. You have got to be joking!” She got up and brushed the grass off her pants with an incredulous laugh. Of course, he still couldn’t say it.  

“I'm not joking.” Rohan said, and Jade's fists clenched, “You- you- no. I'm going home.”

There was a rustling of fabric as Jade turned, and a hand grabbed her wrist. 

“Oh you better let go before I leave you in a state that Crazy Diamond won't even be able to figure out!” Jade yelled, trying to wrench her wrists away from Rohan. 

But Rohan didn't let up. Jade finally got fed up, and with a yell of her stand's name, she dropped to the ground, sending Clint Eastwood barreling forward. 

The car smashed directly into Rohan, launching him back toward the tree. Jade crawled away from him and stood up, assuming a defensive stance. 

“Back! Off!!” She yelled. 

Rohan groaned and sat up, “What the hell was that for?!” 

“I don't know, do you want the list alphabetical or in order of importance?!” Jade yelled back as her stand returned to her side, revving its engine, and Rohan stood up, “So you want to pick a fight, is that it?” 

“I'm not scared of you, Rohan. You can't intimidate me, I know you're not gonna hurt me.” Jade watched him, and Rohan brought Heaven's Door out from behind him. 

Jade felt fear for only a second, before anger once again replaced it. Clint Eastwood revved again, and Jade stayed put. 

Rohan watched her movements. He'd fought with and against her before, so he knew how she moved. And he certainly didn't want to hurt her. But if he had to subdue her to get her to listen, it was a price he'd be willing to pay. 

It was a staredown, one that had caught the attention of another party, an unlikely one at that. 

“Rohan-sensei! Jade! You two practicing or something?” 

Jade and Rohan both looked over at Okuyasu Nijimura with wide eyes, both loosening their stances and shaking their heads. 

The teen shrugged, and Jade raised a brow, “What are you doing over here?” She asked, and Okuyasu held up a small plastic bag. 

“Dad wanted some ice cream, you two were yelling pretty loud, is everything okay?”

“Yes, we're fine.” Rohan answered, and Okuyasu swung the bag over his shoulder, “Really? Great! We were all getting pretty annoyed with your fighting!” 

The two adults looked at each other. 

“Even Mr. Joestar was wondering when you would.” Okuyasu shrugged and went on his way, and the two users just stared at each other, before looking back at the teen. 

It was tense. The air was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Rohan and Jade just watched Okuyasu walk away, neither really knowing what to do. 

“You really went to the tunnel alone? When I was in danger?” 

Rohan asked, and Jade swallowed, nodding once, “Yea. Koichi called me and… explained what happened to you up there. I wasn't supposed to go in and get you out, only watch the tunnel for any sign of the user, but…” She scratched the back of her neck, looking off to the side. 

“And with Cheap Trick?” 

“Clint was following you the whole time. You never left my sight from the time you left your house.” 

Rohan went quiet, and Jade dropped her hand to her side with a heavy sigh, “Look. Rohan, that fight we had that night wasn't… I didn't want to… I was angry that you didn't listen. Didn't trust me. I'd put myself in situation after situation having just barely gotten here…” Jade groaned and rubbed her face. 

She was so tired of this. It was exhausting, constantly being in a fight. 

“I'm going home, Rohan. Don't call. Don't come over. Just leave me alone. I don't want to hear what you have to say, I don't want to hear another insult, or another little snarky remark.” She shoved her hands in her pockets and turned to walk away, for the final time. 

And that was when Rohan Kishibe ran out of options. 

“Heaven's Door!” 

Jade's eyes shot open and she turned, seeing the little white stand flying at her. 

“You bastard I fucking told you-!” She stumbled backward, but it didn't help at all as she tripped on the sidewalk, and Heaven's Door managed to open her up. 

It was quiet.

Now what? 

Rohan stared at Jade, pages open for him to read, and didn't know what exactly to look for. What to write. 

He finally walked over, and flicked through the pages he remembered skimming weeks ago, when they had first met. Clint Eastwood, Yoshikage Kira… things had been so different then. 

I just want to know what's going on. 

I want to keep everyone safe. 

That was new. He hummed, skipping a few pages and finally seeing exactly what he wanted. 

I was trying to help, and he wouldn't listen. I thought, for once, someone I loved would actually listen.

That sentence felt like a punch, or like ice water down his back. It was true. Rohan could see it there, in black and white. Her father leaving, her big move, her killing Kira. He had 100% screwed this up, simply by hanging up on her. 

He had an option. He could erase it, make it so it never happened. This entire debacle could be over, Jade would be none the wiser, and things could continue on as they had. 

But where was the interest in that. Rohan liked this. He liked being understood. He liked understanding. If he manipulated her like that, then would he truly get to learn about her? Understand her? With a small hum, Rohan made up his mind. 

He carefully closed the pages and waited for Jade to sit up. 

Jade blinked awake and shot upright, with an unreadable expression. 

“Find what you were looking for in there?” She spat. Jade was furious. Rohan had agreed to not use Heaven’s Door against her again unless he needed to. And he, once again, hadn't listened. She moved to get up and leave while shaking her head, muttering about what a selfish jerk he was. Rohan didn't move to stop her, instead spoke up. 

“I'm willing to listen.” 

The sentence made Jade stop, and sit back down on the concrete. She stared at the manga artist in front of her, who also had an unreadable expression. 

“I haven't been fair. You've made an effort to understand. To meet me on my level. But I haven't made an effort to meet you at yours. Perhaps… perhaps I can have the honor of understanding you.” 

He didn't move, and neither did Jade. The girl blinked a few times, before sniffling and rubbing her eyes. 

“Why the hell didn't you listen before?” She whispered before clearing her throat and sitting up straight.

Rohan stood up, and held out his hand to Jade, who took it and pulled herself up after a few seconds of hesitation. 

“I really do like you, you know.” Rohan said, not releasing her hand quite yet as she came to eye level. Jade shook her head, “I like you too, Rohan. I do…” She trailed off, before stepping away from him, “But for now… I think things need to calm down. It's been one hell of a summer, with so much happening and emotions running high…” Jade pushed her hair out of her face. 

“Time. Give me some time.” She asked, and for once, Rohan wouldn't have anything to say.

Chapter Text

“So, wait wait wait. You said that you wanted this to be… a completely new manga?” Jade leaned back on the chair in Rohan Kishibe’s office, and said man, standing next to a chalkboard with a myriad of small sketches and words covering the surface, nodded. 

“Is that a very good idea? Why not translate Pink Dark Boy?” She picked up the copy she had brought over, excitedly thinking that Rohan just wanted her help with translating the work. She flipped through the pages of her copy, which were marked with notes and highlighter strokes, “Rohan this could do great over there!” 

“Americans don’t have the taste to understand it-” Rohan stopped his sentence midway, seeing Jade’s enraged glare, “And translating a work is more difficult than writing an entirely new one, I’d like to keep this as succinct as possible.” 

She sighed and carefully set the copy of the manga down on the desk, “Okay, okay. Fine. What kind of plot were you thinking?”

“I was inspired by our escapades during the summer we met, so I’m looking to break into the adventure and mystery market. A man who solves supernatural mysteries around his home city-”

Jade smirked, “So, you’re writing a manga about yourself?” 

“No, it is not about myself. The first issue, our pilot issue, follows the protagonist in their first few days in a new town, encountering a set of supernatural happenings-”

Jade’s smirk grew, “Oh, so it’s about me then?” Now she was clearly doing it on purpose. She crossed one leg over the other and leaned an elbow on the desk. Rohan glared at her and kept talking, “No. Now I wanted to begin with a mysterious car that shows up on the roads at night…”

He paused, as if waiting for Jade to say something, but when she raised a brow he took that as a sign to continue. 

“It has no driver, and no one in the town owns the car. The car drives down the same road, every night, at the same time.” He explained, and Jade’s eyes narrowed, “So, a haunted car?”

She shook her head, “You want your American manga debut to be a haunted… car? And, how does it move?”

Rohan looked down at Clint Eastwood with a bored expression, and the little car revved his engine, his antenna wagging excitedly. Jade glared as well, “Clint is an exception to the rule. I mean, would it actually be a ghost or would it be something else?” 

Rohan scoffed, “Why would I spoil the plot for that?”

Jade laughed and stood, “You have no idea! Hang on hang on.” She walked over, carefully taking the piece of chalk from Rohan and flipping the board to its blank side. 

“There’s a phenomenon called a poltergeist, noisy ghost, which can move things. It appears based on the emotions of a specific person.” She began sketching out a crude drawing of a few things. A house and a stick-figure couple, the car, and a little ghost. 

“What if a couple lives in a house, their marriage is falling apart or something like that, and the car is something from their past manifesting and leading people to that house? Or they died in the house!” She began drawing lines to link them as Rohan stood behind her, watching. 

“No, that makes no sense. Why would the car lead him to the house? And doesn’t a poltergeist link to the person manifesting it?” Rohan countered, and Jade stopped her drawing as he continued to speak. 

“It would have to be something akin to an urban legend, something with a rational explanation.”

“Yes, because reading the manifested pages of your opponents and writing whatever you want can be rationalized.” Jade looked back at him without taking the chalk off the board. 

“A hallucination, then.” Rohan capitulated, and now Jade set the chalk down, “Rohan the only way there would be hallucinations like that would be if there were drugs or toxic gas involved. And where’s the plot drive?!”

“Determining the reason for the hallucinations,” He crossed his arms, and Jade stared at him for a few moments, before stepping back and pointing to her artistic masterpiece on the chalkboard. 

“I think the poltergeist idea is better.”

Rohan flipped the board back to his original outline without a word. 

Jade groaned and rolled her eyes, “Fine. Fine it can be hallucinations, but why? Why does this new town have hallucinations like that? Some kind of supernatural power? An evil corporation?” 

“I was toying with the idea of ghosts causing them, ghosts that had followed the protagonist from his past.” He explained, and Jade nodded slowly, before her jaw dropped, “Hey! You said you didn’t want ghosts!” 

“I didn’t want that type of ghost. I don’t write the predictable plotline, Jade, you should undestand that by now.” He walked past her to the desk and it was Jade’s turn to scoff. She crossed her arms and turned her body to follow where he was going. 

“Are you saying that my writing is predictable?” She asked incredulously, and Rohan picked up her copy of his manga, “You’re a research writer, Jade. It isn’t a personal shortcoming, but simply a consequence of your academic prowess.” 

Jade’s irritation melted to confusion. She couldn’t decide whether or not Rohan was paying a compliment, “So, wait, why am I even here?”

“I wanted you to be my final translation editor. You’d be the first person to read the editions as they come out, to make sure the English is to a high standard.” He explained, and Jade’s confusion finally dissipated, in its place was a slight blush. She uncrossed her arms and clasped her hands behind her back and looked away, “You want me to read it first?” 

“The only reason I’m writing this is because of the fan translation you’ve been working on in your spare time.” Rohan said, and Jade turned her head to look at him, with her blush extending to her ears. 

“No, how did you know about that?!”

“You have a habit of leaving your computer open at your home.” He shrugged with a smirk, and Jade covered her face with her hands and explained herself, “It’s great practice for translating colloquial Japanese, working in formal has been draining me dry recently.” 

Rohan didn’t respond, and Jade sighed, “I’ll be your proofreader Rohan.” She agreed, and the man nodded, “I had a feeling you would. With that, I did have a favor to ask of you in regards to helping me write this, and as penance for that unauthorized fan translation.”

“Dating you isn’t authorization?” She asked with a hopeful smile, that quickly fell when Rohan raised a brow, “Continue,” She huffed. 

“I’m tasking you with researching urban legends and phenomena I can work into the story.” He walked over to his bookshelf and Jade watched him, her own brow raised, “And I’m doing this because…” 

“I have my own work to do with Pink Dark Boy, and I don’t quite feel like hiring an assistant when I have someone I trust at my own house every day, that will work for much cheaper.” He didn’t look at her, instead searching for a book, and Jade sputtered for a few moments, “E-excuse me?!” 

Chapter Text

It was quiet on the hill that night, save for a fire crackling. 

Johnny Joestar had drawn the long straw, meaning he took second shift of watch, so currently he was absolutely dead to the world on his sleeping mat. Lucy Steel slept soundly as well, on the mat Isadora had given to her.

The only two people awake, seemingly the only two people around, were Gyro Zeppeli and Isadora Meyers. 

“So. You studied a lot back in Italy, right?” Isadora asked, and Gyro confirmed it for her, “Yea, medicine mostly.” 

She hummed in acknowledgement.

The two laid side by side, arms behind their own heads as they stared at the starlit sky above them, “Must have been interesting. You certainly fit the part of a doctor, though.” 

Gyro looked over at her, with a skeptical look in his eye, but she didn't turn her head to meet that gaze. 

“You're pretty compassionate when it comes down to it. Even back in Arizona you were.” She said with a fond smile, remembering how they had first become unlikely allies in this race. Now she turned to look at him, with a confident smile, knowing she was right. 

“What about you, then. You fit the part of an heiress, for sure. You're damn bloodthirsty.” The smirk Gyro punctuated his statement by sent a shot through Isadora's chest, and she broke eye contact, looking back to the glittering sky above them. 

“I'm just trying to make choices for myself. I've lived for Thomas for years. He's… gone now. I have to figure myself out,” she sighed heavily, “I do know I'm a damn fine shooter, and that someday I want to be so influential, the president will call after me to make decisions,” Isadora nodded, with a determined look on her face, and Gyro laughed. 

He laughed out loud, and she scowled at him. He would laugh for quite a while, and Isadora would eventually roll her eyes and move to start sitting up. 

“You can watch alone tonight, then.” 

“Hey! Now that's not very ladylike, abandoning a partner,” Gyro's tone was nothing sort of pure tease, but his grip on Isadora's forearm was definitely firm. 

She looked from the hand on her arm, to the owner of said appendage, who still stared at the stars, not even looking at her. After a few moments, Isadora caved, and returned to her lying position next to the man. 

Her parents would kill her if she knew what she was up to. 

“What if we kissed?” 

Now Isadora sat up immediately. 

“I'm sorry, repeat that?” She asked, but Gyro still didn't look over at her, “You heard it.” 

“Oh, oh Johnny warned me about this before he went to sleep. Absolutely not.” She brought her knees to her chest, and now it was Gyro's turn to sit upright, bending one leg and resting his elbow on it. 

“Come on, what's a little fooling around between friends?” That deadly smile of his, Isadora swore under her breath, looking over at the fire, where their travelling companion and new addition lay fast asleep. 

“Well, Zeppeli. One, Lucy and Joestar are right there. So no. Two, my first kiss isn't going to be you. After how you treated me until now I don't think you've earned it.” 

“I apologized!” He insisted, before the second part of her refusal registered in his brain. His teasing smile turned slightly devious, and he leaned toward her, “First kiss, huh?” 

Isadora looked over to glare at him, and argue that he had only apologized because she had dealt Blackmore the killshot, only to scoot backwards at his proximity, “No. Back up.” 

“Consider it a lesson, from me.” Gyro returned to his original sitting position, and Isadora hesitantly returned to her own original position as well with a frown, “Only lesson here is the one you need in manners, Zeppeli, you can't just ask a woman that!” 

“Says who? It's just us out here, so who has to know what happens? You should know that better than anyone.” He argued with a confident grin, and the girl across from him looked at the dirt with a frown. 

He was right. It was the dead of night, in the middle of nowhere, with not a single soul out there to see what happened. It was him, her, and the fire. 

She bit the inside of her cheek, considering what she was about to say. 

She definitely couldn't think about what Thomas would do. What would Isadora do? Did she want to be adventurous? Even if it turned out awful, no one had to know. Gyro was right. No one would ever know. 

“Once.” She held up her right index finger, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground to hopefully hide how saturated in red her cheeks had become. 

She continued, “You get one kiss. And we never speak of it again.” She finally met his piercing eyes and held out her ungloved hand. 

“You're offering up a kiss like it's a business deal, do you ever calm down?” Gyro took her hand and shook it, and Isadora tried to pull her hand away from him in irritation. Instead, Gyro kept a firm grip, and pulled Isadora closer. 

She fell forward a bit with a small gasp, but managed to regain some stability and sit on her heels in front of the ever casual Italian cowboy. 

“You weren't close enough, and I didn't want to get up.” He shrugged, but didn't release her hand. 

“O-okay. Fine. So how does this start?” 

She was panicking, positively shaking with nerves at this.

“Just close your eyes. I think you're too scared to do much else.” Gyro said, and Isadora brought her left hand up to hit his shoulder, “I can back out right now.” 

“Just close your eyes, and calm down.” He said again, and Isadora hesitantly closer her eyes, trying to slow her racing heart back down. 

A few seconds. A few more seconds. What felt like minutes passed, and Isadora began to get annoyed. She moved to say something, eyes still closed, and thats when it happened. 

She felt his lips on hers, and suddenly everything froze in place. Like time itself had stopped. Her heart was still hammering against her ribcage, but at the same time her body felt warm, like every nerve was snapping.

His lips were softer than she expected, slightly chapped but hers probably were too. A feature of being long distance trail riders. But it wasn't unpleasant. If anything, she almost enjoyed the feeling.

She leaned a bit closer to keep the kiss going before her brain could stop her, and Gyro would happily oblige, pulling her hand to his shoulder to being her even closer. 

Her other hand, that she had used to hit him, steadied herself on the ground as the kiss changed from hesitant and tentative to somewhat charged. 

After a few more seconds, Isadora finally moved back again, disconnecting their lips.

Her face matched her duster, and she was slightly out of breath. She looked at Gyro Zeppeli with wide eyes, and then back at their two sleeping companions. 

“Since… no one is around to see. What if I asked for another one of those?” She scrunched her shoulders slightly, feeling stupid for asking the question, but a hand on the small of her back brought her focus away from her speeding thoughts and back to the person before her. 

“Since we're never speaking of this again, I say that's more than fair.” 

Chapter Text

Sarah tapped her pen on her chin. The midnight oil, her favorite time to be working at the library. Special permissions were granted to high achieving collegiates to seek refuge here in the late night. She had elected, at this time, to make use of them. It was silent, and empty. She enjoyed the solitude. Nothing but her and her books, pure bliss. As she began to take notes once again, her eyes drifted to a figure approaching her. She hadn’t heard the large wooden doors open, surprisingly. Perhaps she had been lost in thought.

She put her pen down and raised a brow, “Dio? Does your father know you’ve come here?” She asked, and the man brushed off the question with his own, not even acknowledging what she had asked, “Burning the midnight oil once again, are we?”

He took a seat across from her at her table, and Sarah carefully bookmarked and closed the book before her, “I’m trying to complete my literary analysis. Shouldn’t you be studying for your exam season? Law exams are notoriously difficult, from what I hear?”

The young woman hated to admit that she was a bit enthralled by the late night visit. Dio always did these things. Waited for her classes to finish, to chat with her. Approached her among the shelves of the library. All highly improper, but Dio hardly seemed to care, and Sarah couldn’t help but be enamored by the dashing behavior, even if she didn’t outwardly show it. It was the fleeting glimpses of affection she got from him, especially now that their marriage date seemed to crawl ever closer.

“I decided instead to put a fraction of my time into the other piece of the future. Don’t tell me I’m unwelcome.” He smirked, and Sarah rolled her eyes. She picked up the book she had begun her analysis of, and stood from her seat to put it away. Dio followed suit, standing up to follow her.

“What have you decided to read for your analysis?” He asked, and she held the work up over her shoulder, to show him the from cover, “Dracula.”

Dio’s brow raised. It was an odd choice, one he hadn’t expected. Sarah preferred history, as he knew from their many years in school together. He questioned it, “Why did you choose that of everything. I had assumed you’d select something more… factual.”

She hummed, looking at the book herself, stopping between two rows of bookshelves, “I’m not sure what drew me to the story. Perhaps… the intrigue. The mystery. Dracula is supposed to be tempting, maybe because I’ve never been subject to intrigue of that nature it piques my own interest.” She mused.

“It’s haunting. That someone can have that much power, that much sway based on their charms. Don’t you agree?” Sarah turned to face Dio, who was listening with a blank expression. She frowned at his non response, and moved to put the book away. As she lifted the novel to put onto the shelf, a hand clasped over her own.

She froze in place, and Dio leaned forward, “I’ve always been intrigued by your notion of power, Sarah. Enlighten me.”

She put the book onto the shelf and turned to face him, “I find power to be fickle. Fleeting. Unneeded. A good life is not determined by your power, but by your personality. Even the ends of the spectrum of power can be despicable, or they can be good.” She said, and Dio stepped closer to her. Sarah stepped back, and flinched when her back pressed into the bookshelf.

Dio, propped up on his hand, leaned forward to meet Sarah’s eyes, “But power can be taken. Wouldn’t you say that those of us with the means to seize power frequently do. Regardless of our personalities?” He asked, and Sarah only stared at him. She had no response to that, and his proximity was scaring her, and at the same time, making her knees weak.

“Is power more rewarding for the soul when seized or granted?” She finally offered, and it was Dio’s turn to stare at her. The perfect counter. Sarah had a talent for matching him. She knew how to play his fucked up game of chess, and she played it so well sometimes he found himself laying down his king.

“I would say,” He leaned even closer, and Sarah sucked in a breath, pressing herself further back into the shelves. He was no more than a breath away from her. This was improper, suspect, surely if anyone found out about this they’d both me in massive trouble.

“That seized power is twice as satisfying.” He whispered, and Sarah didn’t dare respond. She only stared into his eyes, as if to challenge him to move without uttering a word. Dio continued, “What say you, Sarah? Have I intrigued you?” He asked.

Sarah couldn’t argue, he had. Something in his eyes was dangerous, deadly. Predatory, almost. But there was still a shred of humanity within them. They were cold, but to her, they were like the air on a snowy day. Cold for a reason. She nodded once, and smirked, “You speak of seizing power. Yet you’re hesitating.”

“I was simply taking your advice, and waiting for power to be granted.” He planted his free hand on her waist and pulled her into a passionate kiss, one that she leaned forward into with fervor. A hand planted itself on his forearm, her other hand brushing up the back of Dio’s neck in yet another confident display.

When the two finally broke apart, Sarah moved to her left, away from Dio and back into the aisle.

“Perhaps the power you should seize is within a law studies book.” With a cheeky smile, the girl picked up another book and walked back to her desk where she had left her things, only to hear another set of steps behind her.

“I won’t be doing anything with you unless it involves your studies, Dio.” She laughed as she pulled her chair back out, and Dio approached from behind. He set the copy of Dracula back down on the table, and leaned over the seated woman, “Tell me more, Sarah, about what intrigues you in these novels. I’ll consider this to be a part of my studies.”

____

“So, what happens now? I’m aiding you in your procurement of power, what do I stand to gain?”

Christine stood in the moonlight, staring at the man before her. He had decimated those in her camp that had returned for her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, instead simply wanting to know Dio’s opinions. Dio’s directives. A part of her was scared by the fealty she never swore, but it was overridden by the other thoughts.

“Once you eliminate our enemies, I’ll have you return to Cairo and we will begin our own work. It’s about time your intelligence was used for the betterment of someone worthy.” He punctuated his statement with a kick to the body of her leading professor, and she nodded once, “I understand.”

There was blood everywhere. It looked like some kind of low-budget slasher movie. Christine’s old boots were drenched in it. She’d have to get new boots from one of the bodies.

“I’ll begin to clean the site, then. Alerting them with a battlefield will only make things worse.” Christine turned and walked a few steps away, before hearing her name be called once again. She turned to look at him, and he crossed his arms.

“I expect loyalty from those I deem fit enough to join me. I’ve been betrayed by someone much like you before, so consider yourself lucky I’ve given you the agency I have. Do not disappoint me.”

Christine nodded once with a small smirk, “Intriguing. Sounds like a plot from a novel.”

In that dark desert night, history brushed with the present. The descendant of the women who aided in Dio Brando’s first untimely end came toe to toe with him again, pawns moved out into the chessboard, like they had once been played a century ago. This time, however, there was no king to lay down, simply a board to destroy, or die trying.

Chapter Text

“After the press conference at the media area you'll have free reign of the Howler Track for a few practice runs for the promotional material, and then you go for the photoshoot-” 

A young woman with long green hair groaned and rubbed her head, walking through the Hawaii airport with a red duffel bag haphazardly swung over her shoulder and people snapping photos relentlessly.

“All this for one race seems a little absurd, don't you think?” She asked, and her manager shrugged, “It's what the itinerary says.” 

Jade Sato-Stephens, world renowned dirt bike racer, one of the youngest women on the circuit at 20. She was also pretty, which made her stand out even more among her competition, and of course, among the general public. 

She was popular, more popular than some of her male counterparts in the racing field, and it only served to make things even worse as she tried to navigate through throngs of photographers trying to snap a picture of her. 

She pulled her ball cap further down to obscure her face more than the sunglasses already did, as she exited the front doors and walked out into the beautiful Hawaii afternoon, and slid into a black van before she even had the time to bask in the gorgeous scenery. 

The Howler Dirt Bike Grand Prix. A new race on the scene, that had paid her a stupid amount of money to be here. As far as she could dig up, it was put on by a development company. On the Hawaiian Islands that sounded slightly strange, offputting even, but she wasn't too sure how to express her hesitance given the amount of zeroes on the check they handed her.

She'd visited Hawaii a lot as a kid, growing up in Los Angeles, it was always a quick jet away. It'd been a few years, but she was always happy to return to the place where she'd first discovered her love for cross country racing and exploration. 

Childhood hiking trips and bike tours dotted her memories, and she was glad to finally come back and experience it all over again, now that her fanily was all broken up. It was something normal.

“So what, they want me at the course now? I haven't even had time to warm up. And is my bike even there? I know we sent it over late.” She buckled in and leaned back, pulling her red cap with her racing number and sponsors all over it off her head and onto her lap, her sunglasses following soon after. 

“The race team said it's there, along with your gear, and you'll have an hour to prep before .” 

Jade nodded once and closed her eyes. 

She wasn't good on planes. Never could sleep on them. But cars were better. She could probably get a few minutes of shut-eye here before having to put the facade back on for the press. 

That shut-eye would be short lived, as the van very soon came to a stop in the thick of Hawaii's forests. It was stunning, a blinding green. She couldn't help but scan the area, what a view. 

“Alright. We're in tent 4, cmon.” Her manager said, and Jade got out without another word, pushing her long green hair out of her face and putting the cap back on, and the sunglasses in her pocket.

The track was clay mud, Jade's favorite, and long, extending through the trees to a point where Jade would lose sight of it entirely. Alongside it were metal stands as far as the eye could see, a large screen to show the racers behind a long table and bunch of chairs, and of course a massive banner denoting the start. 

An easy race. And only 15 racers. But the 15 that they had rostered were some of the best in the industry. Someone clearly had some money for this inaugural race. 

Jade strolled along the rows of white plastic tents, peeking in at her competition with small waves. She was especially excited to see Norisuke Higashikata, a fellow Japanese racer, and she greeted him happily in Japanese. 

She made it to tent 4, which was all the way at the end of the straightaway of mechanic tents. So at the beginning of spectator entry, she figured, and opened the white plastic flap, only to yell for her manager. 

The older man came rushing over to his younger racer, “What, what happened?!” 

“Open the tent and find out!” She yelled, and stepped away from the tent while angrily taking off her hat and running a hand through her hair. When her manager opened it, his jaw dropped. 

No bike. 

Jade's bike was gone. 

“I thought you said the team told you it was here?!” Jade questioned, and her manager quickly got on the phone, trying to get a hold of the person who had confirmed the bike's arrival. 

Jade entered the tent fully to see if she could find anything out of the ordinary. Sure enough, the back of the tent, facing the forest, was cut open and gently flapping in the island breeze. It had been behind some toolboxes, so had she not looked closely, she would have missed it. 

She turned to see if her manager had come in, and after a few seconds of looking back at the entrance to confirm he wasnt coming back, she sighed. 

“Clint Eastwood?” 

A little green jeep revved its engine in front of her and she smiled, “Okay, buddy, time for Fallacy. I need you to go get one of the trick bikes so I can go after mine.”

The jeep didn't need to be told twice, and barreled out of the tent flap. Jade caught it and stepped outside to keep things looking normal to her manager, who had no idea about the little car. 

“Okay, look. I'll take a trick bike and go warm up still, you take the van and get over to the cargo ship that the bike came on. Maybe they forgot it and counted someone else's bike as mine.” She offered, and her manager nodded, before shoving his smartphone back into his pocket and running to the black van they had arrived in. 

The van skidded off, turning around and disappearing down the road. 

Perfect timing too, as the trick bike, possessed by Clint Eastwood, rolled up beside the distraught and irritated racer. She ducked back inside the tent. 

Jade grabbed a race jacket, and a ponytail holder. She held it in her teeth and gathered her hair back, shoving it out of her face and securing it back with the tie. Once it was back and pushed into her jacket, she reached over and grabbed her red racing helmet. 

The helmet was unceremoniously shoved on her head, and she didn't even bother to secure it  before jumping back onto the bike and speeding around the tents, off in the direction of the broken foliage and disturbed dirt that was no doubt caused by her stolen bike. 

While she was on edge, the ride was something fun. It felt like when she was a young teen, blasting through tracks with reckless abandon and not caring about her time.

Trees blasted by as she rocketed through the area, following the trail left by what she presumed was her bike, and Jade slowed down just a fraction to enjoy it, before the dopamine rush of the speed came back to her full force, and she throttled it once again.

Finally, after a decent ride, she came to a road and followed it up onto the mountain, eventually coming to a rather luxurious house. Her bike came to a gentle stop and she put a foot down, just staring at the building in both awe and surprise.  

“Jeez… someone's got money…” She muttered as she brought her foor back up and gunned it, looking for any sign that her bike had come through the area. 

The glint of red in the greenery behind the house had her slamming the brakes down. 

She stared at the splash of color among the green, deciding whether or not to investigate. Everything in her brand was bright red. It stood out in any terrain, and it of course was her favorite color. And if she could trust herself with her own brand, that shade of red was the right red. 

She dropped the kickstand on the bike and pulled the key from the ignition, walking over to the shoulder of the road and tugging her helmet off her head. 

As she got closer, she started seeing sponsor stickers that looked all too familiar, and she decided that it was, in fact, her bike. She trudged through the jungle-like terrain, coming up on the dirt bike and smiling. 

Until she noticed the key wasn't in the ignition. 

She looked around the area. Like her bike, the key had a bright red lanyard that it stayed on until race time. For this exact situation. She spent honestly too much time rifling through foliage to find the key, only to look back up at the mansion on the mountain with a glare. 

“Oh you better not know a damn thing.” She muttered as she ran back to the road, and got back on the trick bike. She shoved her helmet on and zoomed off to find the front door of the place. 

_____

Two doorbell rings later, Jade stood tapping her foot on the stoop of the elaborate home, and tapped her foot. Her arms crossed,two fingers holding her helmet by her side. 

One more ring of the doorbell found it opening, and she could only start hitting herself. 

He was cute, of course he was. And he looked oddly familiar. She blinked, before shaking her head, “Hello. Sorry to disturb, but I’m a racer in that dirt bike prix coming up. Someone stole my bike, and I found it in your backyard without its key.” 

The man stared at her for a few seconds, before looking back into his home, “I think I have an idea as to what happened.” 

When the man turned away, Jade quickly pulled her hair free of its jacket and hairtie prison, in an attempt to not look like she had just ridden all over the place in a panic.

When he spoke, Jade paused her finger-combing of her hair and snapped her fingers, “Oh I do know who you are! You're Rohan Kishibe! My mom’s a huge fan of your works!” She grinned, “Name’s Jade Sato-Stephens.”

“Oh, I'm aware.” 

Jade went from pleasantly surprised to confused, “You know me?” 

“Yes, you're something of a trending name on most Japanese social medias.” He explained, and she laughed sheepishly, “Oh yeah, that. My manager said I was pretty popular in Japan among guys,. It's… interesting.” 

There was an awkward silence between the two, before Jade cleared her throat. 

“So, the bike key?” She reminded him with a small smile while gesturing inside his home, and he nodded, “Yes. Come in. I believe I know who has it.” 

Chapter Text

Isadora grunted as she sat up from her fight with her brother. Bleeding foot, pistol gone, and vision blurred. 

Valentine had made her do something so horrific she didn't even have time to process before she screamed and scrambled away from her brother's dead body, startling her horse in the process.

She pulled herself to the other side of the tracks and stared at it, shaking violently. Her hair had fallen into her face, and the blood that ran across her eyebrows dropped down her nose and to the ground. She looked terrible. 

“You almost look as bad as I do.” A voice rasped, and Isadora turned. 

Diego Brando. He had survived. 

He was beaten badly, and looked to be just as concussed as Isadora. 

She shook again, and turned her back on him staring at her hands, “Valentine… Valentine made me…” She whispered. 

“That's Thomas Meyers over there. As much as I respect his commitment and plotting, that is a low I don't think even I would stoop to.” He said with a frown. An actual frown. He was actually pitying Isadora, she could hear it in his voice. 

If she turned she could see the horror in his eyes. Killing wasn’t beneath him, nor Isadora. But Isadora idolized her brother. She did everything for him. She was here because of him. 

And Funny Valentine left her no choice but to kill him. Or, at least something that looked like him. 

She had now watched her brother die twice. 

She could barely fathom it. Neither could Diego. 

“I'm gonna kill him. I'll end him.” Isadora finally muttered, fists clenching and the tremors that racked her body ceasing entirely. Rage seeped out of every pore that wasn't encased in someone's blood. Isadora didn't know whose.

“No. You won't. You're too weak. Just get back on Rio. This isn't our fight anymore.” He said monotonously as he walked over to her, and Isadora finally stood back up. 

Well, stood as best she could with her injuries. She wobbled on her feet over to her horse, away from Diego, and held on for dear life as she stared daggers at the man before her. Almost like their first meeting. Like their time on the trail before any of this happened. 

Like the time at the checkpoint in Arizona. When Diego Brando had once before warned Isadora of her suicide mission. A warning she didn't heed.

“Who are you talking to? I don't think you know anymore. I'm not the little girl you met at the downs one day. I'm not the timid wannabe that stumbled into this race and this situation. I'm one of the best racers in the goddamn country now, some may say better than you. And if I say I'm gonna kill him, then I'll pump him full of lead by noon and come back to brag by one.” She hissed. 

Diego simply let her ramble, watching her. 

He would admit. She was not the girl that had entered this race, or his life those few years ago. She wasn't the girl he warned in Arizona either. This was the woman who shot him in Colorado and led to his first corpse part, who put a bullet in the ceiling of the Pennsylvania town hall that was intended for the president, and who had just killed her own brother. Or at least, some iteration of him. 

And while he would never say it aloud, he liked this Isadora a lot. 

She didn't back down. Left him guessing and intrigued. Isadora Meyers had survived the Steel Ball Run and somehow, through the sheer grit and determination that dragged her through the race, has won his favor as well. His admiration, even. 

Perhaps more than she had when they were just two young teens hoping to accomplish their own goals. 

“You can't kill that man, Isadora. It’s suicide. Your morality is admirable but you're all too selfless with it. You protected Johnny Joestar and Gyro Zeppeli through this race for no reason, and look where it landed you. You rejected an offer to undermine me and reclaim your shares, and here you are, barely surviving the consequences. You're stupid.” He said, and the girl's grip on her horse tightened, until her knuckles strained against her red gloves. 

“You shut up.” 

“You're stupid, an utter fool. You throw yourself into situations in which you stand to gain nothing, and somehow you lose what you went in with. The richest heiress in the country is now barely clinging to consciousness before me of her own volition, and you deign to ask if I know who I am speaking to?” He stepped forward, and Isadora's gaze began to lower. 

Those sharp teeth were showing again, behind the plaster she had replaced in Mackinaw. His eyes became reptilian again, Diego was mad. But beneath it all… so was Isadora. 

“I… I just wanted to-” She began to shrink, and Diego sneered, “This timid heiress act of yours gets nowhere with me. Isadora, you could win this race. Right now. While Gyro Zeppeli and Johnny Joestar defeat Valentine, you can go now and complete the run. Win everything you lost back. Why are you not desperate for the chance?!” 

“I…” She loosened her grip on Rio and looked over, “I don't care about it anymore…” She finally said quietly, barely heard over the rustling trees and the crashing waves, and Diego scoffed, “Your moral high ground again.” 

“Fame and money aren't what matter, Brando. We've built our legacies. Our names will be in history books. You, the dashing young jockey with women on every continent and more trophies than there are titles. Me, the sole heiress to the United States largest company outside of Steel and Speedwagon, who completed the Steel Ball Run, the only woman to do it. We'll be remembered…” She trailed off and looked down the tracks, suddenly remembering the rifle on her back. She could still go and help. 

“Why are you so unhappy with that fact?!” Diego stepped closer to her, and Isadora felt herself instinctively bristle and move back, away from the man who was getting angrier and more reptilian by the minute. 

“I want it to mean something. I want my name to contribute. To last. I don't want people to look down on me. I want them to speak of my achievements for years, decades, centuries. We're no different, Diego. Admit it.” She finally snapped back as her focus whipped back to him. 

Diego didn't reply, and Isadora scoffed, “Typical. Confronted with facts you don't like and you clam up. I may be stupid, but you're a snake.” She spat, and moved to mount Rio. 

Diego could tell, she wasn't going to finish the race. She was going to catch up to the train. She wanted to help Zeppeli and Joestar. Again. 

She wanted to get herself killed, more like. 

“Dammit, you're not going anywhere!” He yelled and grabbed her by the duster, pulling her away from her horse with a yell. She barely kept her footing as she stumbled back off her horse, finally catching herself and standing straight after several wobbly steps. 

She moved to mound her horse again, but this time Diego reached out and firmly gripped her arm, pulling him to face her. 

“Brando, let go! You're acting like a child!” 

“Will you, for once, choose someone else!” He yelled, and the young woman stopped. Her posture relaxed, and she blinked at him. She scanned his face, trying to understand what was going on. She she got a read on his expression, she realized she had seen this one before. When she had fallen through the ice. Diego Brando looked… Scared. Angry. In his own special way. And then Isadora finally put the pieces together.

It made sense. 

Arizona. Colorado. Kansas City. Mackinaw. 

Diego Brando had continuously made one choice throughout this entire god forsaken race. She didn't know why, but he did it damn near without fail. Every time he chose to cross paths with someone, Isadora was there. Whenever Isadora was in danger, Diego Brando had been mere steps away. 

He had warned her in Arizona. Approached her in Colorado not once, but twice. His deal to keep her near in Kansas City, he had even saved her life in Mackinaw.

“You want me to choose… you.” She muttered, realizing what Diego wanted her to do. 

“I chose you. I've chosen you every goddamn time. I want to keep you close. I'm not easily satisfied, not easily amused, and yet at every turn your unpredictable actions have caught my eye. It's absolutely infuriating, the lengths to which I have gone to protect you in this race, to keep you by my side.” He stepped forward. 

“And yet every time, you ignore it. Or refuse it. Or simply pretend you do not understand. It ends now.” 

The two racers stood toe to toe, Rio shying away from the man who approached her. However, her rider didn't move. The young woman in the red blazer soaked with blood stood staring at the man who looked about the same. Both were brutalized, bruised, practically torn to shreds. 

Thousands upon thousands of kilometers. 

Night after night under the stars together, slowly opening up and revealing themselves, without even anticipating it. 

“Diego…” She whispered, but he continued, “We'll be legends together. You just have to choose it. Isadora Meyers you can make the choice here and now to be remembered forever, or to die here as the final woman standing, who couldn't make it to the end. I've found someone who can satisfy every need and want I have, and I am not letting her go.” 

Isadora looked off to the side, but Diego grabbed her chin and forced her gaze back. 

“I mean it, Isadora. I am not letting you go.” 

Isadora felt her chest tighten. Her head and heart raced, and her hands shook. Diego Brando was a widower. A ruthless, conniving beast who had done nothing but use underhanded, cheap tricks to secure his place. He was a talented horseman, with an ego twice the size of his prized equine. 

But he was also the man with whom Isadora had shared cinnamon candy and a coat. He was the man who pulled her from a frozen lake, and ensured her survival. He was the man who found her after the most traumatic experience of her life, and pushed her to keep going. He was the last piece of the old Isadora, that hung on the rose-colored past. 

“This isn't the time. Diego-” 

“Isadora Harriet Meyers, sole heiress to Meyers Maps and Cartography, 6th ranked racer in the Steel Ball Run. Marry me.” 

The woman choked on air and shook her head, “You're insane. You're desperate. We're injured and President Valentine will kill us all, we need to keep movi-” Isadora said, but Diego put his gloved hand over her mouth. 

“Shut up and listen to me. Jesus Christ himself knows you won't any other time,” he muttered, and Isadora blinked at him. 

“If this truly meant nothing, then you are more than welcome to be killed by the hand of President Valentine. I won't stop you. If our time together meant nothing at all to you. If my saving your life was nothing. I will let you walk away and die by his hand.” 

Isadora glared, and her hand twitched, reaching for her pistol. 

“But. If you have any hint that it meant something more, you won't shoot me where I stand. And you'll accept this offer.” 

She couldn't tell if he was desperate to gain something, or if what he felt was genuine. But the again, Isadora knew that reading Diego Brando was like reading an ancient Egyptian tomb. She certainly couldn't. 

She carefully examined his features. He had beautiful eyes. A beautiful face, really. Even through the run, he had remained a stunning beauty. Through the blood and reptilian smile, he still possessed features as if God himself had pulled him from paintings he liked. 

He looked angry. But beneath it, he looked scared. Somehow Isadora saw something akin to fear in his eyes. 

She stared at his eyes for a few moments, before carefully bringing his hand down, and pushing herself forward, resting her hands on his shoulders. 

Her lips caught his, and as the grass rustled below them, Diego pulled Isadora impossibly close by her waist. The two stayed there, locking lips for a few minutes, before Isadora slowly pulled back. 

“I'll accept your offer Diego Brando. On one condition.” She whispered, and the man looked at her with a raised brow. 

“You beat me in the race.” She grinned. 

____

Valentine was dead. 

Isadora sat on the back of Rio, hunched forward and racing with all her might. She had passed both Johnny Josetar and Gyro Zeppeli, barreling down the cobblestone street in third place. 

Before her were her final two opponents. Pocoloco. And Diego Brando. 

The final racers were packed close together, as the finish line drew nearer and nearer. Everyone was silent, focused solely on crossing that finish line. She saw two figures off to the side, and sighed. Johnny and Gyro were closing in. 

Everyone had survived. The world was fine again. The corpse would be locked away by Johnny Joestar. Everything would be okay. So, why did she have to worry. She didn't have to win. 

Because in the end, perhaps she would win anyway. 

She slowed Rio down, letting a shocked Johnny Joestar pass her. Gyro Zeppeli, however, gave her a smirk and a tip of his hat. 

With a small smile of her own, Isadora nodded as Gyro moved forward. And moved forward. And passed Diego Brando. 

The winner of the Steel Ball Run. Gyro Zeppeli. 

Isadora crossed the line in 5th place. Johnny Joestar in 2nd. Pocoloco in 4th. Diego Brando, in 3rd.

Ticker tape flew, cheers rang out, and Isadora slowly slid off her horse. Her eyes scanned the area. It was beautiful. A celebration of the 42 people that crossed that line. Banners waved, a band played, fireworks popped, and at the center of it all was a girl in a red duster. 

“I beat you.” Diego Brando whispered in her ear. His hand found her hip, and rested there. Isadora looked at the race standings. Sure enough, he had. Would she ever admit that she had let him? 

“I know you did. Diego Brando, I chose you.” She finally looked over at him. He went silent, before it registered what she meant. She had given up the chance to beat him. So she could marry him. 

“I hope you don't mind, but I gave up one more chance.” Isadora smirked knowingly, and Diego leaned over and kissed her again without a word. 

Was he using her for her money? Or did he actually love her? Isadora would never be able to tell. However for now, perhaps she could dream that he wasn't manipulating her.

One day maybe he'll poison her, and she’ll perish sick in bed, thinking Diego had cared for her to the bitter end. But maybe one day the two will sit together on their horses, riding and remembering their lives on the trail with fondness. 

Either way, Isadora could spend her last days, whenever they came, with someone who had chosen her. Not Thomas. Not her company. Her. 

And perhaps that was as happy an ending as she could get. 

Chapter Text

It was far too late to be calling collect, and Jade knew that. It was way too dark outside to be at this payphone, her friends would kill her if they found out she had stepped outside, clad in nothing but a tank top and loose sweatpants at, "2:47 AM," she hummed. 

Jade Sato-Stephens needed to make a phone call. A private one that she couldn't risk her mother overhearing.

3 weeks ago, she had killed a man. Her former next-door neighbor, a serial killer targeting this town since she and her newfound group had been children. The killer had sprung up, and began to kill again, using a magical power he had been granted years prior. 

No one outside of that select group knew what she had done. Normal people didn't even see how she did it. 

To them, it was nothing more than a terrible, brutal accident that left the poor newcomer shell shocked, as she had stood right in front of it when it happened. But to the group of stand users behind her, it had been the work of this newcomer's own stand, granted by the very father of the person she just brutally murdered. 

Squished him. Flattened him like a pancake with an ambulance.  

"Hello?" 

The man's voice spoke, and Jade froze in place, her words dying on her tongue as she was pulled from the memory of the crushed head of 'Kosaku Kawajiri'. 

"Talk or I'm hanging up." 

Jade finally lurched a sentence out. 

"N-no, Jotaro. It's me, Jade. From Morioh..." Her voice got quieter as she spoke, slowly realizing how stupid of an idea this had been. What kind of help could Jotaro offer?

"What do you want?" He said, and Jade sighed, "Listen, I'm sorry it's so late... or... early whatever, anyway, uhm. I needed help." 

She sounded different, Jotaro would note. First, the girl hadn't been timid in the least during their time tracking Kira down. She was brash and confident to a fault. This stuttering and rambling was fully out of character. 

"I had, uhm, I had a nightmare. I've been having them actually. About Kira. He was..." 

She described the terrible dream. Yoshikage Kira, bloodied and angry at her front door, his horrific stand reaching for her from behind him. He flashed between appearances, one second in the purple suit she had met him in, another in the white suit she had dispatched him in. No one coming to help her. No one around. Just her entryway, herself, and the man she killed weeks before, uttering a simple phrase as that evil pink cat manifested behind him. 

"My peaceful life, you ruined it." 

She felt her eyes begin to water as she slid down the side of the phone booth, hugging her torso. Jotaro, on the other end of the line, stayed quiet. 

He knew how she felt. It was all too real. When he had killed Dio, proper sleep had evaded him for months. Every single life lost weighed on him, heavy enough to almost crush him. Jade wasn't faring much better, he could tell from the poor girl's muffled sobbing from the other end of the line. 

"Look, you can't change what happened. All you can do is move forward. The world doesn't stop because you're scared." Jotaro said in his normal, flat tone. 

Jade rubbed the water from her cheeks and hiccuped, "I get it, I can't change it. But... he's there. In my head. He's always gonna be. When you first killed Dio. You closed your eyes, and I know he still stared at you. Still haunted you." 

"It's not just him. Everyone he killed is still there, too. I killed him so more people wouldn't be stuck as memories." 

That hit Jade hard. 

She lowered the phone a bit from her ear as her psyche mulled that over. 

Josuke, Koichi, Yukako... Rohan. If she hadn't killed Kira, no doubt they'd all be memories. Or worse, she'd be a memory to them. 

"I-" She hesitated before bringing the phone back to its desired position, "But-" 

"You had no choice. It was your friends, your family, everyone, or him. Nothing will change that. Stop arguing it. He is going to haunt you for the rest of your life." 

Jade's teary eyes immediately dried at Jotaro's tone. Like a dad lecturing a child. She could feel her posture straighten, and her eyes start to dart around the booth in guilt. 

"Your choice now is whether or not he will control you. Stop feeding it. Stop giving it power."

Jade cleared her throat and nodded once before verbalizing her agreement with a simple, "O-okay." 

When Jotaro hung up, Jade let the phone drop from her hand, and she finally sat on the floor of the booth with a small thud. Her eyes began to water again, and Jade felt her shoulders lurch in another heavy sob. 

She had let him take over. She hadn't looked Josuke in the eyes since that day. She stopped helping the boys with their homework and stopped going out for coffee with Yukako. When her mother came home, she couldn't even greet her, instead hiding in her room under the guise of being "under the weather". 

That same excuse was used on Rohan, too. She had distanced herself from him as the nightmares began to get worse. He hadn't mentioned it, but then again she also didn't answer the phone much anymore, so perhaps he'd have some fun words for her later, if she ever did decide to talk to him again. 

She sobbed again and buried her face in her knees, hugging her calves to bring her legs closer to her body. A ball of grief and fear on the bottom of a phone booth, on the corner of a Morioh street at 2:55 AM. 

She'd cry herself into a dreamless sleep there. In the phone booth. 

A rattling sound would startled her awake, followed by a surprised, "Damn, you look rough." 

Josuke Higashikata. 

Jade looked at him and felt every ounce of emotion she had fallen asleep with come rushing back. 

When Jotaro had dialed the teen up that morning, it was pretty surprising for Josuke. Jotaro didn't seem the type for idle chat like that. 

Jotaro telling Josuke to check on Jade, and make sure she wasn't losing her mind was even less expected. The teen had noticed their American friend being less and less present, but she was also starting college, so he hadn't thought much of it. 

Of course, Josuke went to check on her. If Jotaro was concerned, something was definitely up. He hadn't expected to come across Clint Eastwood's user asleep in the corner of a phone booth, still in her pajamas. 

She did look rough. Jade moved a hand to hide her face, but the young Joestar had already spotted the dark circles, pale skin, and greasy hair. 

"Jotaro called you, didn't he?" She asked from behind her hand, "Shit, I was trying to avoid this."

 "We've all been pretty worried. You know it's bad when Jotaro Kujo stages the intervention. What's going on?" Josuke squatted down, and Jade sighed. 

"Kira. I keep having nightmares about him. About him... coming after me." She choked out, and Josuke hummed. For such a delinquent coded kid, Jade admired his empathy. 

"Is that why we haven't been seeing you around?" He asked, and for the first time in days, Jade cracked a smile, "Probably. I've been avoiding you all." 

Josuke understood. He got it. It wasn't a surprise, firstly because Jotaro had told him but secondly because it made sense. Jade Sato-Stephens was rightfully traumatized. 

"Crazy Diamond can't fix that." He shrugged, and Jade laughed a bit, "No, no he can't." 

There was a tense silence, before Jade finally asked the million dollar question, "What if I just... left him there. If I didn't intervene..." 

Josuke reached out a hand, and rested it on her shoulder. His face was serious, his tone was level, and Jade felt the hairs on her neck bristle when he spoke. 

"You'd be dead." 

She blinked. 

"He was gonna kill you. If he had detonated that bomb, you'd be dead. He'd rewind time, and you would've been the first to go. We'd all be dead, probably." 

She'd never heard Josuke so serious. But he was right. Clint Eastwood had been the one to find him. He would've killed her without an ounce of hesitation. 

"But he's dead. Not you. So you gotta move on. And let him stay dead." 

Jade didn't say anything else, letting his words marinate. She needed to think about something else. Anything else. But she couldn't shake those thoughts as her head leaned back against the glass behind her, and her eyes shut again. 

"It was the right call. For the greater good." She muttered finally, and Josuke agreed, "Yep. It was the only choice. And no one who knows what happened thinks you're a murderer. Hell, Jade you're pretty much a hero." 

The young woman shook her head, but a small smile once again began to peek through her depressed visage. 

"Go visit Rohan-sensei, please. He's been up everyone's ass about where you are." Josuke picked up his school bag and stood, reaching a hand out to Jade, who still sat on the dirty floor of the phone booth in her grey sweats. 

She looked at the hand and hesitated before reaching out and grabbing it, slowly pulling herself back onto her feet. 

"I'll call. I swear. Now go, you're gonna be late to school." She crossed her arms with a brave face, and Josuke looked at his watch, swore, and began to sprint down the street. 

Jade was once again, all alone. She wrapped her arms across her middle and watched Josuke run back toward the denser areas of Morioh. 

It really was a beautiful city, full of colorful characters and crazy antics. She let out a deep sigh, "I made the right choice." 

Every person here, whether they knew it or not, had her to thank for their peaceful life. Her nightmares were the sacrifice for that. But maybe, she thought, that wasn't a terrible fate. Everyone she loved could go on living, without the threat of death at every turn. 

She walked back into her home and took off her shoes, sliding them in the closet next to the door and stepping into the hallway. She picked up the phone, and wrapping the cord around her finger, dialed a number she knew all too well. 

Probably the number she should've dialed instead of Jotaro's. 

Chapter Text

It was a warm, Italian day. The streets of Napoli were dotted with couples, families, and various other conglomerates of people as everyone made the most out of the beautiful weather. 

Two people strolled side by side, along the street, chatting animatedly. 

“This is such an amazing city, Mista! Nothing like back home!” Isadora beamed, and the man returned the grin, “Glad you like it, I’m pretty fond of it myself.” 

While the conversation seemed mundane enough, the three people hiding behind a nearby building couldn’t help but groan. That was the third time the two had made those exact remarks. 

Concealed behind the smiles and nonchalant posture were two idiots in love. And their three companions observing the date were getting fed up with their ‘will they, won’t they’. 

“For such a lady killer he’s sure fumbling this bad…” Narancia muttered with a frown. Arguably he was the most invested in this, having grown exponentially closer to Isadora since her decision to remain in this time. She was like an older sister, and she had actually confided in him about her little (massive) affection for her fellow gunslinger. 

“That’s it, I’m gonna get things moving-” Narancia began to step out from their hiding spot, only for a green-blazer clad arm to pull him back in a chokehold with a whisper of, "No you fuckin' don't!", leaving one man in a pink suit watching it all. 

He furrowed his brows, before pulling his cell phone from his pocket and hitting a speed-dial contact. He brought his phone to his ear, and watched as Mista began to fumble for his cell phone. 

“Oh shit, sorry!” He said, pulling out the little device and reading the caller ID on the front. 

“It’s Giorno… wonder what he wants. He said he was gonna be with Narancia and Fugo doing some recon thing today…” Mista muttered, and Isadora chuckled, “Pick up! It could be important! I’ll go get us something to eat, the gelato place a few doors back looked good.” She waved the man off and he flipped the phone open, bringing it to his ear. 

“What’s up?” 

“You’re botching this, man.” 

Mista tensed, and he looked around, “Was this your fuckin’ recon?!” He whispered. 

“Listen, when Isadora gets back, you need to put the pedal to the metal. She likes you, you like her.” Giorno spoke with a level tone, as he watched Fugo and Narancia duke it out a few meters away. 

“I just don’t wanna screw it up! I don’t know if you noticed but she’s-”

“Screw what up?” Isadora asked suddenly. She was holding two servings of gelato in her hand, classic chocolate flavor, “Giorno need us to do something?” 

“No! No he’s just updating me on the recon,” He switched his attention to the phone, “Thanks for the update! Gotta run!” 

He snapped the phone shut and turned to face Isadora. Giorno sighed and looked at the two teens locked in their deathmatch, “These two are hopeless…” he muttered, and Fugo and Narancia paused their battle to nod, “Yep, we know.” 

“Why exactly are you skulking around the streets in broad daylight?” 

Giorno glanced over at Bruno, “Isadora and Mista are on the saddest date I’ve ever seen, why are you here?”

“Trish asked me to see how the two were doing, but it seems like there’s not much we can do.” Bruno peeked around the corner as well, to see Isadora carefully handing Mista his dessert, without even so much as a brush of hands. 

Giorno and Bruno sighed. 

“This may be our toughest mission yet.”

_____

The sun had begun to set, and Isadora and Mista sat calmly on a wall overlooking the ocean. 

“Today was amazing, thank you for being my tour guide.” Isadora looked over at her companion, who nodded, “No big deal, it’s always good to walk around. Thanks for buying lunch for the bullets earlier, didn’t realize they wouldn’t care if I was doing something else.”

The two looked down to see a pile of yellow bullets and red bugs. The bullets were racing the red cicadas, cheering and hollering and, in the case of number 5, crying at the speed. The two laughed at the absurdity of it, before Isadora looked out at the ocean. 

“Hey, Mista. Remember when we were retrieving the disc and you kissed me after I found it?” 

Giorno and Bruno froze in their places in the bushes. 

“Oh, I do. Why, feel like reliving that experience?” The man wiggled his eyebrows, and Isadora laughed, “Shut up. I just wonder why you did it at all. Didn't make any sense, you’d known me for 3 days. And you haven’t done anything like it since, either, so I was just… confused.” 

Mista let out a hearty laugh and slung his arm around the girl’s shoulder, “Well I wanted to date you first before I decided I really did like you.”

The blonde and brunette hidden within the foliage Giorno had created both looked at each other in shock. They knew they liked each other? They were aware? 

“You kissed in Venice?!” A loud cry came, and both men turned their heads to see Fugo standing up from behind a vespa. 

Isadora and Mista whirled around to hear the newcomer, and their eyes met in panic. 

“Fugo shut up! You were in the turtle so you missed it.” 

“You saw it?!” 

Isadora pulled her hat down over her face and Mista groaned. 

Giorno and Bruno finally stood up and looked at the two teens fighting near the scooter. 

“For fuck’s sake, did you bring everyoe Giorno?” 

“No, Abbachio is still back at-” 

The young woman in red sighed, “Jesus, you want a show? Fine.” She muttered, and grabbed Mista’s collar, pulling him in for a sloppy and haphazard kiss. Naranica cheered, while the rest of the group looked on in surprise. When Isadora finally let go of the man, she turned to them, “Now will you beat it?!” 

The four blinked once, twice, before walking away, and Isadora sighed, “Sorry. They clearly were looking for something to happen-” She began to explain, before she was interrupted by Mista’s lips on her own once again. This time, however, it was much softer, and much more tender. She carefully moved one hand to hold his, while the other tilted her hat back so she could move a bit better. 

When the two split, Isadora removed her hat and put it on Mista’s head with a cheeky grin, “So you decided you like me?”

“Hell yea, I do.”

Chapter Text

The morning light is turning blue, the feeling is bizarre…

A warm night in Cairo, the desert breeze swaying the palm trees that lined the desolate streets. A woman sat alone, on the roof of a random building she had found, map perched on a clipboard and pencil in her mouth. A book sat next to her as well, something similar to a logbook. 

Her short brown hair was pulled from her face by her white scarf, and her khaki shirt hung loose from her frame. She clearly looked as though she didn't want to be disturbed, but the truth was she was waiting for someone. Her brown boots tapped against the sandstone roof as she pulled the pencil from between her teeth and made another mark on the map. 

The night is almost over, I still don't know where you are…

“Where the hell is he?” She whispered. 

It was late, the wee hours of the morning, nearing dawn even. She had been here for hours, simply occupying herself with the items she brought. 

The late-night shadows made her nervous. Not only were the items she had in her possession stolen (swiped from her supervisor's room while he drank another night away) but she was also meeting with their guide here in Cairo. A double whammy of problematic behavior. 

Footsteps finally approached from behind her, and she tucked the pencil behind her ear. Her torso turned to greet her friend, Aharon, only to stop. The figure on the roof behind her wasn't that of her Egyptian sweetheart.

He was frighteningly tall, and blonde. The shadows did him favors too, shrouding him in intrigue but not quite hiding his overly-muscular stature. 

The shadows here, they keep me pretty, like a movie star…

The woman didn't move, like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Oh, sorry. I didn't realize someone lived here. I'll leave.” She finally snapped from her reverie and gathered her items by the streetlight, only to be stopped as the figure came to sit next to her. 

“If you wouldn't mind, I would prefer you stay and discuss something with me. You seem interesting.” He said. 

He was English, first. She noticed it immediately. Something about that made her relax slightly, and she slowly set down her items, coming back to a relaxed sitting position. 

“You won't call the police or anything?” 

“I assure you, miss, the police are of no use to me.” 

The daylight makes me feel like Dracula…

The girl scanned him up and down now that he was revealed in the light. He was beautiful. Gold eyes, sharp and intimidating features. A painting, she decided. 

“Who are you?” She finally asked. 

“Would you believe me if I told you I am part of your past?” 

The girl blinked once, twice, before shaking her head, “No, I wouldn't. I would recall meeting someone like you.”

He laughed, and the girl only became more wary of him by the second. She moved once again to leave, only to be stopped by another statement. 

“Your name is Christine Meyers, you are part of the Cambridge Aswan team, and you come from a long line of eccentric researchers. I believe the most famous of which wrote a rather detailed book on vampires.” 

All of it was true, and made her skin crawl. The way he said it with something like fondness was haunting.

“Yes, how did you know… that…” The woman trailed off as he turned to meet her eyes. 

“Do you believe it now?” He said, and she hesitated. 

In the end I hope it's you and me…

“Who are you? Tell me.” She asked, demanded even. Something wasn't right here, and she was nervous about it. 

“Your ancestor's research was all true, Miss Meyers. Your name is linked to something much bigger than the human mind can imagine. I've come to offer you a place in that bigger picture,” his smirk looked satisfactory. Like he had already won, “A place by my side, achieving something no one dares dream of.” 

The young woman rolled her eyes and looked back at the sleepy city, “You're a drunk. That's the explanation. I have no use for scams, sorry. Must admit though, your research was pretty thorough. If that's the length you go to to swindle someone you need a better job.” 

The young woman moved once again to stand, and the man looked back out at the city as well. 

“Sarah Elizabeth Meyers, born April 9, 1868 on the outskirts of London, England.” 

Christine Meyers froze to her spot. 

“Her research, Miss Meyers, was based on the man before you.” 

In the darkness, I would never leave…

The woman stared at this man in terror. That would one, make this man over a century old and, two, make him far more dangerous than she had thought. He had to be a drunk, or someone on some really good cocaine. Maybe even bad cocaine. She decided to humor this now all-but-confirmed crazy person as she stood up to her full height. 

“Prove it, you can look up records on anyone. If you want me to believe you, do something then.” 

She blinked. She only blinked once after speaking her mind, and before she realized it the man had disappeared from the edge of the roof. 

She looked around frantically, and the over the edge to see if he had fallen off, only to find a hand plant itself on her back, pushing her forward.

With a scream, Christine failed to stabilize herself on the edge of the stone building. That same hand wrapped around her brown leather satchel and held her in place staring over the edge. 

You won't ever see me in the light of day…

“Sarah Meyers broke off an engagement at 21 years old to pursue journalism, her first column was a daily event calendar in the London Evening Standard.”

Christine's white scarf flew off her head at the sudden breeze, and her chest rose and fell with panicked breathing. 

“She received the top marks in journalism from Cambridge University-” 

“I get it, pull me back!” She yelled, trying to move her feet back. 

The stranger did as she asked, pulling Christine back onto the roof and onto her back with a grunt as she landed on her backside. 

The woman caught her breath, and met the eyes of the man. 

“Who are you?” 

It's far too late, the time has come…

“My name is Dio. And I would like to offer you a chance to make your supervisors feel as powerless as you feel now.” He spoke, and Christine's eyebrows raised a bit.

“You and Sarah are very alike. You both have been left behind by your peers, fighting to gain everything you have. Spending every day wasting away at the feet of people who strive to see you fail.” 

He was right. He was so right. Years of being the only woman around, years of being underestimated and skipped over. Years of being just a piece of meat to the men she traveled with. 

“So what. That doesn't mean I want to… what is it you want me to do? Help you? With what?” She spat, and the man laughed again. 

“Even your quips are identical. Christine Meyers, I offer you the chance at power at my side. I can grant you an ability that will let you take sweet revenge on those who wronged you as long as you are by my side.” 

It felt awful. To admit his offer was tempting. She clutched her stolen books tighter in her arms and stood up again. 

I'm on the verge of cavin’ in, I run back through the dark...

Being able to prove them wrong. To create a name for herself above them. To get the fame, the accolades that they all got off her back. He had a point. 

The offer was tempting. Christine sat with the thoughts, letting the idea of sweet revenge consume her mind. 

Revenge. Power. Control. 

But then she realized that this was also not right. What exactly did he mean by what he said? A smooth talker, yes, but something raised a red flag in her head. 

“What… what exactly do you get out of having me on your side of things? My great aunt wrote a vampire book, allegedly about you, a century ago. That isn't much reason to be asking for my loyalty.” She reasoned, though all reason went out the window when the man, Dio, stepped closer again. 

She needed a reason to get away from him. Something was wrong here. 

“You're a real… honest to god… vampire?” She whispered, and then looked down at her watch. 

Her eyes looked behind the intruder to the sky. 

Lighter. And lighter. It was becoming dawn. 

Now I'm Mr. Charisma, fuckin’ Pablo Escobar…

Her demeanor changed, and Dio immediately recognized it. It was practically a picture of the Sarah Meyers that boasted about her book to him in the castle all those years ago. He was taken back to that fateful night, when Sarah had proven herself as his enemy. 

He could not have another Meyers as an enemy. 

“The night is almost over.” 

Dio's nerves flared for a split second, Christine could see it. There was not much time before he would have to retreat, and Christine did not seem too enthusiastic to retreat with him. 

He needed a new method. 

She was smarter, more rugged than the Sarah he knew in the past. His normal manipulation was not enough anymore. Something new needed to happen. The seed had been planted, perhaps there was a new way to water it. . 

“It seems I underestimated your intellect, Miss Meyers. The standard tricks don't phase you. How intriguing.” He chuckled, and Christine blinked slowly, keeping her bored poker face.

“Your professors seem to be enthralled by your looks, and while I must say you have a lovely face, has anyone truly ever looked into your thoughts?” 

There was a moment, a split-second one where Christine's carefully-crafted mask shattered. And Dio, a master of splitting seconds, spotted it. The chink in the armor. 

“You aren't valued for anything more than adding to a picture on your team. However, by my side, you'll find that your background and wisdom are worth their weight.” 

My friends are saying, “Shut up Kevin, just get in the car…” 

Christine felt the mask slip more and more with each word. It was enticing. The idea that she could be valued for her insight and skill. She knew it was manipulation. She knew this was exactly what he wanted. 

But perhaps it was what she wanted too. 

Revenge… stone cold revenge. 

Christine faltered more and more by the second, and Dio pressed on. 

“You are worth more than a pretty picture, my dear.” 

The final crack. Christine felt her arm move slowly, then stop in front of her. Her hand stretched out, in a handshake. 

I just wanna be right where you are…