The sounds of the violence that came from the loan shark's building seemed to have attracted no attention as the culprit sauntered out of it. The roughed up condition of his clothing hide the fact that they appear to be a few sizes too small for him yet it also lacks any spattering of blood. However, should one gaze into his shattered emerald glare, one could feel the cold murderous aura that he gave off. The scowling man kept looking into his hands, opening and closing them. The rugged texture of his palms, the feeling of his own strength in his arms once again, the bite of the chill against his skin on this night; it made his chest tense at a feeling he had not felt in centuries.

The appreciation of being alive.

He let the crimson arm of his Stand meld together with his own. Clenching his hand into a fist, he looked up to take in his surroundings. Taking in the sights of people with features deemed inhuman roam the streets, the slim buttonless mini steel tablets that some of the teens fiddle around in their hands, it was as if he had been whisked away to another world.

Perhaps it was a piece of that boy's soul that stuck with him or maybe it was his mind piecing together snippets of information from the many deaths he experienced but everything about the sights before him felt natural. That this was Japan, not Italy; this was the norm, not the exception; these were people, not monsters. Aimlessly wandering, an unnerving sensation creeped along his back. Fractured eyes darted around, becoming more erratic with every passing moment. He was being watched. He could feel it. Knew it. Know it. Was it the duo he stumbled upon before? The laughable 'League of Villains'? Was it the man across the street? The high school girl loitering around with her friends? His chest began to pound steadily. Everyone was looking at him. They thought they would be so sneaky with the way they hid their wary gazes but Diavolo knows all. Sees all.

Paranoia? No. It couldn't be. A great man such as he having a mental illness? Don't make him laugh. This was a normal feeling to have when preserving your own life from those that dared to go against the position of which Fate had granted him. The corners of his mouth creaked into a grin. Fate was still on his side! Of course! Even after all the countless cycles deaths spanning unholy lengths of time, here he was standing tall and alive! He persevered against the cruel challenge the wheel of Fate decided for him and won! However, he knew better than to celebrate victories prematurely. This strange new world that he had been thrown into was far too different than the one he departed from.

He scowled.

As loathe as he were to admit it but the boy was right, there was almost none of his past left for him to worry about. Almost. The past, no matter how far you buried it, no matter how well you hid it, would always come writhing back like a stubborn worm. That archive on the supposed 'superpowers' of the eras preceding the present was proof of this. That small blurry image of him eliminating Abbacchio Leone was enough to force him into his attempt to wrest control over the boy's body in haste.

O Fate, her tests ever so daunting!

How did anyone manage to slip past him? The crafty members of Bucciarati's gang took advantage of his King Crimson's limit of his power so it was an uncomfortable understanding but this unknown photographer? It was this accursed photo that caused him to come to a bone-chilling realization.

How many people already know of me?!

Thinking back to it, the way the brat's mentor spoke of him was oozing with concern, fear and acknowledgement. Was this book given out to all Heroes? The student library? The public?

"This picture, young Midoriya, was the only photograph taken of the boss of the largest crime organisation in Italy at the time…"

This was bad. Bad. BAD. An information leak of this scale was impossible to contain even if he somehow managed to regain the power and status he had back when he was the boss of Italy's then largest famiglia. The elimination of the occasional bystander, rival gangs, cops and even some politicians were fair game to ensure his anonymity reigned supreme. He scowled again. The boy's words were beginning to ring through his head.

'In this world, transparency reigns dominant!'

Well, that was not what the boy said but it might as well have been. It was an outright violation of the right to privacy! Then again, he might have a chance. Yes! A chance! Another blessing in disguise has come to him.

The brat also has a power that needs to be kept hidden! If he uses King Crimson sparingly or claim that King Crimson was an evolution of his Quirk, I would never have to reveal myself! Genius!

He stopped his sauntering when he heard uneven footsteps shuffle from the building next to the former loan shark's. It was the driver. Tracking his wobbly stomping over to his van, a wonderful idea came to him. While he could never eliminate everyone that knew of him due to the possibly sheer number of them, no one would miss a few.

But! There was always a 'but'. Who did the driver talk to whilst he was away? He could have just been drinking in the rundown building next the loan shark's but last he checked, there was only one liquor store in the area and it looked like they only sold the cheap stuff. This meant that the rundown building might not be as unoccupied as he thought. That also meant that they might have heard the commotion that was going on.

Running his fingers through his long hair, he approached the drunk van driver. "Scusi, where have you—"

"Uwah! The devil's come for me! Help!"

Diavolo smacked him around a few times with a solid backhand. "Shut up! It's me, the man who you drove here for," he growled.

The driver, with puffy cheeks, whimpered, "Y-you are?."

Wrong answer. The driver cried when he felt a fistful of his hair being snagged and pulled towards Diavolo. He then ended up with a broken bloody nose when his face got slugged.

"Oi, mammoni, are you that drunk that you fail to distinguish fantasy from reality?" Diavolo asked, one hand grabbing the driver by his collar, the other lightly slapping his face. "Of course it is me! How can it not be me?"

"I-I dunno, man! The guy I drove here had pink hair, not green!"

With an irritated sigh, he let him go with an unceremonious plop and checked his face on the van's side-view mirror. He knew that drunkenness led to a reduced ability to perceive among other things but this was just ridiculous.

What stared back at him was this bizarre amalgamation of himself and Izuku. Long green hair, semi-fractured irises with a boyish face, he looked like any other school kid. He reeled back. W-what's this?! When did this happen?

'You have reigned over this body long enough, criminal.'

"Who said that?" he shouted, heartbeat rising when he heard the voice. Was the brat awake? It sounded like him yet it doesn't. It sounded male yet also female; tangible yet intangible.

'That is none of your concern, Diavolo. We have always been here since the torch was passed down.'

"Cut the crap. What did you do?" he snapped. He activated King Crimson and entered the world of erased time, scrutinising everything and everyone's actions that he could see for the next ten seconds. Aside from the idiotic driver, no one else appeared to be doing anything suspicious.

'Strange. He seems to be a part of the boy yet isn't. Could he be the latent Quirk potential We felt?'

Beads of sweat ran down his face, his eyes darting around. What was this voice? Was it really inside his head? A telepathic Quirk user? If it was inside his head, it should just the brat and brat alone. It is wasn't him, then it must be someone else. But, only he can move around in the erased time as the rest were sleeping slaves to their fates. Unless…

Giorno! Even after a hundred years have passed, are you still tormenting me with that blasted Requiem?!

Time pieced itself back together, the passers-by none the wiser. He turned to the driver and lifted him back on his feet.

"L-look, man, please don't hurt me anymore."

"Get in the van."

"W-whuh—"

"I said get in the fucking van!" he barked as he shoved the driver before getting in himself. He grew even more agitated and nervous as the driver fumbled around his keys and took forever to get the engine running.

"Now what?"

"Drive."

"But where?"

"Back to your dead friends."

"B-but, I'm still kinda drunk. Can't this wait a bit longer?"

Oh, he wanted to kill this idiot. He really wanted to kill this idiot but for some reason, something was holding him back from just outright snapping his neck. Instead, he placed a firm hand on the back of his neck and squeezed.

"Boy, what's your name?"

The driver sputtered a bit. He wanted to point out how weird it was for a kid to be calling him that but he'd rather not have his mouth be the end of him. "Uh… It's Takumi. Why?"

"Listen, Takumi, there are only two ways you are going to die tonight. Either you die driving us there or you die right here, right now, as you hear your neck slowly crack and crumple. What do you say?"

With shaking hands on the wheel, Takumi sped off into the night with tear-stained cheeks.

Diavolo, too, was shaking. As he kept watch on the rear-view mirror, he could see his body slowly reverting back to that of the brat's. Was he losing control over this body? Was this entire experience he had just a prolonged death cycle?

After a few minutes of watching street lamps whizz by, Diavolo decided that this was not another death cycle. As much as he knew Giorno hated his guts, even he wouldn't have him die in this manner.

Maybe.

What the hell did he do to piss off the boy in the first place? No, scratch that. What the hell did he do to piss off Bucciarati? His life from the point of Bucciarati's betrayal onwards went downhill from there.

Did he kill his dad? No, if anything it was Passione that gave him the means to support his father till his dying breath. He should know because Polpo, the capo that took Bucciarati in, was rather fond of his naïve sense of strict honour and duty.

Then, Diavolo remembered how distraught Bucciarati was when he took Trish away from him.

"You must pay! You have betrayed my heart once again!"

Bucciarati's anguished cry echoed in the elevator shaft. He had to raise a brow. 'Again'? Bucciarati's outburst was well within his calculations since his profile on his character indicated that he will react like that. Still, to insinuate the he, Diavolo, has wronged him in any way prior to this baffled him.

What did he do? Perhaps one of the men in the Assassination Team convinced him that Passione was responsible for an incident that has wronged him? Once this blows over, he will ensure that Bucciarati and his fellows will be rewarded greatly. It was thanks to them that he can erase all traces of himself and keep his organisation secure. This should help smooth things over with him. While he did create the organisation in such a way that it fostered competition between the different branches, it did no good to go out of his way to foster animosity with one that has been proven worthy.

As he got slipped through the elevator doors that he prepared prior, he heard Bucciarati's [STICKY FINGERS] open up the elevator that he extracted Trish from. Diavolo sighed.

He hoped Bucciarati would do the smarter thing and leave him be.

I wonder if the outcome could have been different if I handled the situation better? Perhaps I should have waited for him to come up to the top floor and instruct him to see her off then while I hide somewhere. That way… oh. Mio Dio. Are you absolutely f-!

"So, uhm, how old are you?"

"What?" Diavolo snapped.

"Hiee! I'm sorry!"

He clicked his tongue, scowling as he glanced outside. Noticing that the apartment that Midoriya lived in was well in view and that there was a distinct lack of engine rumbling, he turned to Takumi.

"Oi. What is this?"

"Oh, this? We've arrived at the destination for a few minutes already, Boss, I mean, sir, uh…"

"…and?"

Takumi scratched his cheek and said, "Well, you seemed to be staring off into space making weird faces the whole way. Then, you didn't seem to notice we arrived so I wanted to tell you but I didn't know how so I decided to try make some small talk, you know?"

Diavolo's face appeared to tense up before he let out a sigh.

"You know what, just for tonight, you can call me Boss," he declared with a small smile as he hopped out of the van. "Come on, those bodies aren't going to clean themselves."

"Y-yes, Boss!" Takumi answered with a clumsy grin.

An unexplainable feeling made Diavolo's chest feel tight hearing the youngster call him that title. It was a nice warm feeling that reminded him of the only person who trusted him without question.

Doppio.

"You say something?"

Diavolo clammed up and marched off to the apartments. "You're hearing things. Come on, let's go."

Damn it. Being with Izuku for a long time is making me soft.

He glanced at Takumi, who was rummaging the back of his van for the needed equipment for body disposal. He noticed him shivering and trembling by the knees.

Diavolo shut his eyes. Nevertheless, once I get him to transport the bodies to a pier, I'll make sure he'll join his comrades. That's the least I could do to make him forget this night ever happened.

A/N: Hey there, KobeNiku here. I am terribly sorry for the ludicrously long break in uploads since yours truly has been busy with university and maybe slightly a hint of a tinge of procrastination sprinkled here and there. That and it took a long time to think about the direction I want to take this story. I want to be sure that this is a path that I want to see the plot going before continuing.

Also, I'm looking for a beta! Well, if anyone's willing that is. While I am confident in my proof-reading abilities, I realise all too well that I am not infallible. That being said, this offer is open to my other story, The Data Collector so if you're interested in both, hit me up in the PMs!

Speaking of interests, which do you guys prefer? Long chapters (3k words and beyond) or short chapters (2.5k and below)? I know, can of worms but I feel like it's nice to know what your preferences are so I can try and suit them the best I can. Oh, and would you rather have this story be put in the crossover section or remain here? Only reason I put it here is because I think that the crossover section tends to focus more on the Jojo than the MHA but I could be wrong.

Anyways, have a nice day!