He was drowning. Most nights, he was drowning.

He was trapped in a coffin, and the coffin was flooding with water. The coffin itself was a humble, unassuming box of pine- nothing like the ornate gilded sarcophagus he had once been so proud of- yet for some reason, Dio could not force his way free from its confines.

A gloved fist punched a hole in the wooden lid of the coffin, and Dio felt the water begin to pour in even faster- pouring in so quickly that he barely had time to think before the water was up to his neck. With a final, panicked gasp, his head was submerged beneath the surface of the water, his last breath disappearing in a flurry of bubbles that drifted away aimlessly, disappearing into the murky depths of the water that surrounded him on all sides. He was trapped in a coffin, and the coffin had flooded with water, and now the water was flooding his lungs. He no longer drew breath, but his lungs were still burning, begging for air as they filled with nothing but water. It was all around him now, the water- clogging his throat, silencing his screams- and Dio thrashed about inside the coffin, trying desperately to escape the frigid grasp of the ocean. But his efforts were in vain. The bottom of the sea would be his final resting place- and yet, even then, there would be no rest for him. This much, Dio knew. He was drowning. His torment would be endless, and he was drowning, drowning forever-

Without warning, the hand plunged back into the coffin, blindly searching for something. It groped about aimlessly in the watery darkness until it suddenly lunged forward and closed around Dio's throat. The hand tightened its grip, then with a mighty heave, yanked him out of the coffin, tearing him straight through the wooden lid with enough force to send him flying, and suddenly, Dio was no longer underwater. He was tumbling, his body limp, rolling down the streets of Cairo until at last he came to a stop on a quiet bridge overlooking the river.

His body crumpled into a heap, Dio began coughing violently, trying to hack up the water still sloshing around inside of his lungs. Through the ringing in his ears, he could just barely make out the sound of footsteps- the hollow clack echoing ever so slightly across the cobblestone street. Someone was coming.

His eyes darting around frantically as they searched for the source of the footsteps, Dio finally noticed a familiar figure approaching from the other side of the bridge.

"Get the fuck up."

Dio scoffed silently to himself. Of course.

It was never Jonathan. Jonathan would have at least stopped to talk first. Jonathan would have told Dio how disappointed he was. But it was never Jonathan, no matter how many times Dio had wished it was.

Night after night, it was always Jotaro. Dispassionate, dark, uncaring, unforgiving, unwavering in his hatred and unrelenting in his fury- exactly the sort of spirit that deserved to torment Dio Brando for all of eternity.

"Jotaro."

"Get the fuck up, Dio, so I can beat the shit out of you again."

Dio winced as he slowly staggered back to his feet, willing his broken body to stand. His ribs were broken, his knee was shattered, his arm was broken, the left side of his body was going completely numb, and yet his wounds refused to heal.

Not that it surprised him. After all, this was what he deserved.

"Have I ever told you how sorry I am? For all the things I've done? For killing you?"

Jotaro adjusted the brim of his hat ever so slightly, refusing to look Dio in the eyes. "You don't regret it."

Dio shook his head. "No, I don't. I can't. But I'm sorry that you had to die. "

"No one had to die."

"It was you or me, Jotaro. We both knew that, and I won. But if I hadn't… I wouldn't have my family. Your death ensured their existence, and so you had to die. 'Fate' willed it so. I'm sorry that you had to die. I'm sorry that 'fate' doomed the Joestars to extinction. But I'm not sorry for being the vessel of 'fate.'"

"'Fate?' Does being the vessel of 'fate' free you from the consequences of your actions? Do you really think that 'fate' alone was responsible for what you did?"

"Of course not. My whole life, I have been a victim to the whims of 'fate.' I became so preoccupied with 'fate' that at one time, I even sought to know it. To control it. If only I had known that my 'fate' was always within my control. 'Fate' is not the result of some grand design, some destiny assigned to us at birth- rather, it is the natural result that arises from our decisions. 'Fate' is nothing but the outcome of our lives."

His hand trembling, Dio shakily extended a finger and pointed to his earlobe.

"Take this birthmark- the one on my ear. Three dots, meaning I was born to be a ruler of men. That is proof of 'fate.' But what I did with that knowledge was up to me. That was my choice, and my choice affected my 'fate.'"

"'What's happened has happened.' That, effectively, is 'fate.' Whether right or wrong, the consequences of our actions have led us to this point. Speculating about what might have been is useless now- my sorrow will raise the dead, nor will it bring them peace. It is selfish in origin and nature, just like me, and just like me, it only exists because I refused to hold myself accountable. I became the vessel of 'fate' because I refused to control my own destiny- because I thought that 'fate' would absolve me from the consequences of my actions. I surrendered my life in the pursuit of my purpose, and succumbed to temptation. I abandoned the 'straight and narrow path.' I rejected my humanity, and yet, that decision was mine and mine alone. It was never my destiny, even if I once believed that it was. I was still the only one responsible for my actions. I was still the one responsible for my 'fate.'"

"I am sorry, Jotaro. For what I've done. But I can't regret it."

As if in response to his apology, the teenager- eternally a teenager, thanks to him- reached into his trenchcoat and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He chose one, seemingly at random, and held it between two fingers with one hand while the other dug back into his pockets to search for a lighter.

"'What's happened has happened,' huh? Sounds like a bullshit excuse to me. A definition of 'fate' born out of convenience, to help you find peace despite what you've done."

In one smooth motion, Jotaro pulled out and flicked open his lighter, the tiny flame illuminating the shadows beneath the brim of his hat. For the first time, Dio could see into Jotaro's eyes.

Rather than the anger he was expecting, however, there was only fatigue.

Dio smiled wearily. "Come now, Jotaro. If I had truly found peace, would you be here?"

Frowning in contemplation, the final Joestar took a long drag from his cigarette, then exhaled the smoke with a tired sigh.

"I suppose not."

"There was a time when I could have changed my path. But that time has long since passed. This is my 'fate,' and I cannot regret it. To regret it would mean to regret my family, and to regret my family would be to consider them a mistake. Even knowing what I know now, if given the choice again, I would have killed you a thousand times for the sake of my family… just like how you would have killed me for the sake of yours."

For a split second, the faintest glimpse of some indistinguishable emotion flashed across Jotaro's face. The boy took one last drag from his cigarette, then flicked it to the ground, crushing it beneath his foot as his eyes lit up in anger.

"I don't care."

Gone was the fatigue his face had worn moments earlier- even from where he stood, Dio could tell that it had been replaced by the dark determination now burning behind Jotaro's eyes.

"Good grief, Dio. Do you really think that anyone would want to sit here and listen to your sorry excuses from now until the end of time? Words can never repay the debt you owe the world- no matter how many times you apologize."

The air around Jotaro had become electric, practically humming in anticipation as his shoes left the cobblestone street below and began to hover several inches off the ground. Despite that, though, Dio refused to summon The World.

This was what he deserved, after all. Why should he try to fight it?

"'What's happened has happened.' This is your 'fate.'"

The fires of Jotaro's righteous fury burned even brighter in his eyes, and with that, Star Platinum appeared. The mighty spectre clenched its gloved fist- the same one that had torn Dio out of his coffin- and turned its head ever so slightly to face Jotaro, awaiting its orders. In response, Jotaro thrust his finger towards Dio, pointing at him with all the rage he could possibly muster.

"STAR PLATINUM! LET HIM HAVE IT!"

"ORA!" Star Platinum roared, and Dio closed his eyes, waiting for the blow that would shatter his skull.

It never came. Rather, the fist of Star Platinum stopped just short of Dio's head, held back by an unknown force.

Jotaro, for his part, had the decency to look confused.

"What?"

Dio took a step backwards, away from Jotaro, recoiling in fear.

"Impossible… this hasn't happened since..."

Before Dio had a chance to finish, the birthmark on his shoulder started burning, and his thoughts were consumed by a pain that felt strangely familiar. Jotaro, Star Platinum, the streets of Cario- all of it was gone in an instant as the ground beneath his feet shattered and gave way.

He was falling. Everything was dark, and he was falling, falling into a lake of fire, consumed by the ravenous maw of the abyss below him. Up from the lake of fire rose a writhing mass of limbs- a thousand hands, all of them resembling the golden fists of The World, all of them grabbing at him in a rush, threatening to drag him back down, back into the fire from whence he came. Once more, Dio summoned the strength within to fight his way free from the inescapable clutches of oblivion, but before he could, a purple tendril wrapped around his windpipe, and his throat was ensnared in a crown of violet thorns that punctured his skin and left him paralyzed from the neck down. Dio's eyes widened in shock as the vines of Hermit Purple constricted, growing tighter around the scar where his head had been joined to the body of Jonathan Joestar. He had lost control of his body- a body that had never been his to control.

"What… what is this? I can't move!"

Hermit Purple tightened its grip around his throat, blood pouring forth from his wounds and trickling down the back of his neck as Dio was rendered totally immobile- his body limp, he plummeted into the flames below, helpless to avoid his fate. The fire was desperate for his damnation, and it roared in his ears as it swallowed him whole.

Dio screamed, but no sound escaped his mouth. His whole world was on fire, and he was burning- yet once again, he was stricken by the strangest sense of deja vu, as if he was no stranger to the sensation of being burned alive. Once more, the birthmark on his shoulder was wracked with pain, as if an old wound had suddenly been torn open once more- as if it had sensed a familiar presence. Dio's eyes darted back and forth, finally fixing on the shadowy silhouette of a figure just outside his line of sight, just beyond the wall of fire that surrounded him on all sides.

The flames flickered, dimming ever so slightly, and through them, Dio could just barely make out the visage of a woman, her features forever set in stone, staring down at him from far above the fire. All at once, the memories came flooding back- of that stately Victorian manor, and the lady which had been its silent protector- of the statue that he had been impaled upon, the statue that had held his broken body fast while the Joestar Mansion burned down around him, the statue whose face had seemed to taunt him mercilessly, reminding a much younger Dio of the mother he had lost and the father he would never forgive.

There was no mistaking that statue- of that much, Dio was certain. It was the Goddess of Love that stood before him now.

And standing before the Goddess of Love was his son.

Miyuki was staring up at the statue in reverence and awe, his back turned to the fire. Still strangled by the thorns of Hermit Purple, Dio mustered what little courage he had to say something- anything- to his son, yet once more, when he opened his mouth, the only sound that escaped from between his lips was a ragged gasp. Shirogane's shoulders suddenly tensed up, caught off guard by the sound of his father's labored breathing from behind him.

"Miyuki…" Dio rasped, blood pouring even faster from his throat.

Shirogane's head whipped around, searching frantically for the source of the noise before he finally noticed the body of his father, stranded across from him amidst a sea of fire. Their eyes met, and even through the flames, Dio could tell his son was afraid.

It dawned on him, then. Miyuki was afraid of him.

Dio awoke in a cold sweat, feeling as if something had shifted.


If today were a battle, Miyuki figured he would have already lost.

It had only been a week since he started school, and true to his father's word, most of his fellow students were going out of their way to ignore him. As the second student from a first-generation family whose wealth was relatively new, Shirogane was still considered to be "impure" by the general populace of Shuchi'in Academy- so naturally, even the thought of associating with him had become something of a serious social faux pas. Despite the fact that he had been prepared for it, his loneliness still stung… which was exactly how he had ended up here. Just as he had quietly resigned himself to the usual spot behind the school where he ate lunch every day, a friendly face appeared, luring him into the student council room with the promise of a quiet place to eat. And although Shirogane had sworn to avoid the student council when he first stepped through the doors of Shuchi'in, his desire for companionship had outweighed the concern that this random act of kindness might be nothing more than an elaborate recruitment attempt.

Of course, now that he was actually sitting inside of the student council room, his earlier concerns seemed much more well-founded.

"You want me… to join the student council?"

The student council president leaned back in his chair, flashing Miyuki a smile. "Are you kidding? We'd love to have another Shirogane on board. Your family's got quite the legacy here, you know."

Miyuki shook his head. "I'm not interested in that sort of thing. And if you only want me here because of my brother, then I'm not interested in joining the student council."

"If that's the case, then… why did you decide to come to Shuchi'in at all? Why not go somewhere else- somewhere that wouldn't judge you so harshly for being impure- and avoid your brother's legacy altogether?"

Shirogane frowned. "To be honest with you… I'm not really sure."

When the student council president said nothing in response, Miyuki took it as a sign to continue.

"Personally, I would have been fine with attending any run-of-the-mill public school, but my old man went and submitted a scholarship application for me."

The president cocked his head slightly at that. "They still offered you a scholarship?"

"I insisted on paying for my tuition by myself, so I wouldn't have come here if I couldn't afford it on my own. I'm not going to be one of those kids who goes through life clinging onto their parents' coattails forever. My old man raised me to be better than that, at least."

Again, another small smile from the president. "Good for you."

Shirogane nodded in acknowledgement. "I was pretty upset when my father told me that he had applied here on my behalf, but the scholarship Shuchi'in offered me was more generous than anywhere else, so I figured... why not? I'm confident I can make up the cost of tuition that the scholarship doesn't cover with the money I earn from my part-time job."

The president clasped his hands together. "Your work ethic is admirable. We really could use someone like you on our student council."

"But why me? And don't say it's because I'm a Shirogane."

"Well, the president gets to choose the other members of the council, and April is recruitment season. We still have to compete with the other clubs to get fresh blood."

"And what? Am I the only blood left in the water?"

"No."

"Then there are probably still better candidates out there… like the girl who was greeting new students at the entrance ceremony. Someone like her would probably make for a good student council member."

"Are you referring to the Ice Princess?"

Miyuki paused, caught off guard by the unfamiliar title. "Who?"

The student council president sat up suddenly, his face bearing an expression of incredulous disbelief.

"Kaguya Shinomiya. You haven't heard of her?"

There was another pause as Miyuki collected his thoughts, caught off guard by the unfamiliar nickname for the girl he knew only as Shinomiya. He recalled seeing her from afar as she directed lost students into the auditorium on his first day at Shuchi'in. Even then, she was distant- almost unapproachable- and the whispers he overheard about her family had only served to confirm his suspicions. Still, despite her standoffishness, the title of Ice Princess seemed a bit… excessive to Shirogane.

"Ah. Her. I… didn't know she had a nickname."

"She doesn't. No one would dare to call her that… well, not to her face, anyhow."

The student council president slid a cup of tea across the table for Shirogane, which he gladly accepted.

"I heard her family is super rich, and that she's a natural genius at everything she does. Someone like her, someone with pedigree and talent… that's the kind of person you should be asking to join your student council. I've got neither of those things- people like her live in a totally different world from people like me. No matter how you look at it, I'm just a worthless outsider."

"That's a good thing. All of us here have lived our whole lives at Shuchi'in, walled off from the rest of the world. What we need is someone who grew up unsheltered from the harsh realities of the outside world- someone like you. We could use your unique insight."

Standing suddenly, the president walked around to the other side of his desk and pulled up a chair to sit beside Shirogane.

"After all, as much as you might hate to hear me say it, it was precisely because of his impurity that your older brother became one of the most beloved leaders in the history of this school. One of only two impure students ever elected president by the student body… I never knew him, but every president ever since has heard the stories. We all have."

Shirogane shook his head again, taking a sip from the cup of tea in front of him. "I already told you- I'm nothing like my brother. For one thing, I'm nowhere near as smart as he is."

The president shook his head. "I don't think that's right. Your entrance exam scores seem to indicate that you're just as smart as him, if not smarter."

"Only if I apply myself," Shirogane muttered. "Nothing ever comes easily for me. I'm not a natural-born prodigy… not like him. Living up to the sort of legacy my brother left behind hasn't been easy for me… that's why I didn't want to get involved with the student council in the first place."

"I get that. Of course, you don't need to follow in his footsteps if you don't want to. That said… we'd still really appreciate having you on board."

When Shirogane said nothing in response, the president stood up, turning away from him to face the window. "Hmmm. Tell you what… if you're not convinced, how about tagging along to observe my student council duties for the rest of the day? That way, you can get a feel for what working with the student council is like- and hey, who knows? You might even decide to join in."

Miyuki took a deep breath, then sighed. "Okay."


"All right, here we are."

Miyuki looked around, confused. The only thing in sight was a dismal little pond filled with what looked like mud, surrounded by a grove of trees that provided surprisingly little shade. The water in front of him was so murky that it rendered his reflection invisible, stained a sickly shade of greenish-brown by the massive clumps of algae floating lazily atop its surface.

Here? Is this guy serious?

"Today, we'll be cleaning up this swamp."

And with that, the president unceremoniously shoved a pool rake into his hands. Before Shirogane had time to protest, the president continued with his explanation.

"The water pipe that feeds into this pond has been clogged up for years- so long that it's grown unsanitary due to all the algae. We've called some people to come service it, but we have to clean it up a bit first before they get here. There are a couple volunteers here to help out, but it looks bad on the student council if we don't do the dirty work ourselves."

Shirogane nodded in understanding as he took a moment to scope out his surroundings. A quick glance around the dock revealed three other students standing off to one end of the wooden platform with their own nets, fishing stray debris out of the water. His eyes briefly skimmed over a nearby sign, then doubled back to make sure he had read it right.

"Bloodpool Swamp… that's quite the colorful name, isn't it?"

"Oh, quite. You know, it's rumored that a warlord's head lies at the bottom of this very swamp."

"You're… kidding, right?"

The president merely laughed in response. "Well, if you happen to scoop out his head, just don't put it in the trash bag, alright?"

Ignoring his jests, Shirogane turned back towards the swamp, dipping his pool rake below the surface of the water to dredge up more filth. When he lifted the net out of the pond once more, it was filled to the brim with a mass of dead leaves, sticks, algae, and several discarded cans of beer. The repetitive motion of skimming his net across the surface of the water formed a comfortingly monotonous rhythm that allowed Shirogane's mind to wander… and wander it inevitably did.

Miyuki sighed, looking out over the lake, staring at the sparse handful of other students that had gathered to help. What am I even doing here?

His thoughts inevitably drifted back to his conversation with the student council president on their way down to the swamp.

"You said I wasn't the only person you wanted for the student council, right?"

"Of course. After all, there are people here that you won't find anywhere else."

"People like Shinomiya?"

"...well, this year's freshmen are all quite impressive. We have a young woman from the Shijo family, a piano prodigy, the beloved daughter of the head of a crime syndicate… and, needless to say, the daughter of the head of the Shinomiya Group."

"Have you tried asking them to join the student council?"

The president grimaced, adjusting the brim of his hat ever so slightly. "I've been trying to win them over, but the odds are looking pretty slim. Those with strong convictions aren't so easily swayed."

Once more, Miyuki felt himself frowning. Strong convictions, huh? If I'm so easily swayed… does that mean I lack conviction?

The president said he was inviting me to join the student council... but in reality, I just got suckered into doing his dirty work, didn't I? And all because I lacked the conviction to stand up to him… I bet he looks down on me for being impure, just like everyone else… the second son of Dio Shirogane… a disgrace to the name of his brother and a failure to the legacy of his father.

And no matter what, nothing I do will ever be able to change that.

A shriek from far away interrupted his train of thought, temporarily silencing the doubts that had steadily been building in the back of his mind. On the opposite end of the docks, one of the volunteers had seen something floating in the water- a bat skeleton, by the looks of it.

"There's a dead animal floating in the water! Gross!"

He saw it happen before anyone else.

The first girl jumped to her feet, scrambling away from the water's edge in a state of hysteria, unaware that her sudden outburst had caused another nearby volunteer to lose their balance…

… and from where he stood, Shirogane could only look on in horror as the second girl lost her balance and plummeted backwards, falling into the murky water below with a hollow splash.

In an instant, he was on his feet, sprinting down to the other end of the docks before he even had time to think. Pushing past the other volunteers, Shirogane extended his pool rake out across the water, thrusting it towards the girl.

If she can just reach the end of my net… if she can just hold on, I can pull her back to safety.

"ARE YOU OKAY? GRAB ONTO THIS!"

Struggling desperately, the girl in the water reached out towards Shirogane's net, her fingers falling just short of the handle.

"I… I can't! My leg's caught on something!"

His thoughts scattered, Miyuki took an involuntary step backwards.

No… I can't reach out any further. This is as far as it goes…

Her foot's probably trapped by a branch or something, something under the surface of the water… and the harder she tries to break free, the faster she'll run out of stamina. If someone doesn't jump into the water to save her, she could seriously drown!

Behind him, he could hear the hushed whispers of the other volunteers.

"Should we go in to save her?"

"Wait, is it even safe for us to go swimming in that pond?"

Now's not the time to be worrying about that, damnit! Someone's life is in danger!

I can't swim. I can't swim, though, so going in to save her myself isn't an option! If I did, we'd both drown! I can't save her!

As he took yet another involuntary step backwards, away from the water- away from the girl who was about to drown, right before his very eyes- the horror of his situation slowly began to dawn on Shirogane.

...I can't save her.

Backing away from the water's edge helplessly, paralyzed by his own thoughts, Shirogane felt himself beginning to hyperventilate uncontrollably.

I can't save her.

She's going to drown, and I can't save her.

This is all my fault.

And all the while, the student council president looked on, staring straight into his eyes- ignoring the girl in the water entirely- as if he was only waiting to see what Shirogane would do.

There was the sound of wind rushing in his ears, and Miyuki lost his balance, collapsing to the ground in an anxious heap, his mind totally consumed by the anxiety coursing through his veins. His neck was throbbing, and his whole body felt like it was on fire.

I can't save her. I can't save her.

This is all my fault.

Someone… someone who can swim… there has to be someone…

This is all my fault.

THIS IS ALL MY FAULT.

Shirogane clenched his fist and slammed it against the docks in frustration. Once more, there was the sound of wind rushing in his ears, his shoulder throbbed, and for a split second, Miyuki could have sworn he was seeing double. It was as if his hand had an outline- faint, fuzzy, and indistinct, but it was there… as if all the anxiety in his body had been taking form.

He blinked, and the outline disappeared. Tears welled up in the corner of his eyes, yet Miyuki refused to shed them.

Someone… anyone…

Please…save her…

Please…

A flash of raven hair caught his eye, and Miyuki looked up to see none other than Kaguya Shinomiya running towards the water. He barely had time to process what he was seeing before she was gone, hurling herself off the edge of the docks and into the murky depths below. From far away, he could hear the other volunteers beginning to shout.

"SHE'S TIED TO THIS ROPE!"

"PULL THEM OUT!"

Miyuki turned towards the sound. Two of the other students had grabbed hold of the rope and were beginning to pull Kaguya out of the water.

Of course… she tied a rope around herself. That way, she could go into the water to save that girl… even if she didn't know how to swim. If you tied that rope around yourself, you could still go into the water and save that girl, even without knowing how to swim.

If I had tied that rope around myself… I could have saved that girl.

It was my fault.

His shoulder, still throbbing, began to burn, and the outline reappeared- still faint, still fuzzy, still out of focus, hovering beside him silently.

I was paralyzed by my fear. My body moved before I had time to think, but when my thoughts caught up to me... I told myself one excuse after another, and my mind froze up. I lacked the conviction… the "resolve" to save that girl.

I get it now. It doesn't matter if your family is rich, or if you were born a prodigy. None of those traits define who you are. In the end, the only thing that matters- the only thing that defines you- is whether or not you take action when someone else is in need.

Looking out across the docks, Miyuki could only stare in awe as Kaguya Shinomiya emerged from the water. At the sight of her, he felt an unfamiliar ache in his chest- a sort of emptiness he had never known before.

Someone like that… someone like her, even if she's covered in mud… is truly beautiful.

Miyuki felt something shift- as if a fire had been lit at the very core of his being. His heart skipped a beat, the outline solidified, and suddenly, Miyuki was staring at a hand that was not his own.

It was metallic, almost as if it were encased in a suit of armor- a silver gauntlet that covered everything except its fingers, which were stained a bright blue. Embedded in its wrist was what looked like some sort of tube, and in the middle of its palm was a gaping hole. Miyuki could hear the faint sound of whistling as air flowed through the perfectly circular cavity- yet strangest of all was that he could feel it, as if the wind was blowing through a hole in his hand. The foreign sensation overwhelmed him, and Shirogane suddenly felt dizzy, as if he was about to be sick. Unable to handle the stress, his legs buckled, bringing him back to his knees.

"Shirogane? Are you alright?"

Miyuki looked up suddenly to see the eyes of the president, concern clearly visible on his face. Panicked, he attempted to conceal his phantom limb… only to find that it had already disappeared.

"I-I'm fine. Just light headed, is all."

The president raised an eyebrow in skepticism, clearly unconvinced by Miyuki's excuse. After a moment, he shrugged slightly, then turned back to his work, electing to ignore whatever it was that he had been suspicious of.

"If you say so. Still, if you're not feeling well, you should take a break- I wouldn't want you working too hard on your first day. Just be sure to let me know."

"Y-yeah. Will do."

Strange… whatever that was, no one else can see it except for me.

I wonder…

Scrambling back to his feet, Miyuki searched the swamp for any sight of Kaguya, only to realize she had already left.

I wonder… does she have something to do with this?

Even though she was gone, Kaguya Shinomiya still lingered in his thoughts. Miyuki had once thought her to be unapproachable- cold and dispassionate, like the uncaring face of a mountain- but now he was beginning to wonder if her frigid nature had been crafted out of necessity. All of his preconceived notions about her being little more than a stuck-up trust fund kid had been entirely dispelled- and after what he had seen today, Shirogane knew only one thing for certain.

He knew nothing about Kaguya Shinomiya... and yet, that fact only made him want to know her even more.

Sighing dejectedly, Miyuki let his head fall into his hands.

"What kind of person would even be able to stand by her side?"

Having overheard Shirogane's mumbling, the president smirked sarcastically, winking at him. "Don't you think I would? I'm the student council president of this fine academy, after all."

Miyuki's eyebrows furrowed slightly in contemplation. Bending down to coil up the rope that Kaguya had left on the docks, he grasped a length of it between his fingers. The braided pattern bore the slightest resemblance to the president's golden aiguillette.

"Student council president, huh?"


The Polaroid camera was an antique, one Dio himself rarely used. He could have just as easily tried the old computer in his office, but it was hard to argue with results- and for whatever reason, Hermit Purple produced the clearest images whenever he channeled its powers into a camera.

Plus, even he had to admit that there was something nostalgic about it.

With a flourish, he struck the Polaroid, the vines of Hermit Purple shooting forth from his fingertips and working their way into the intestines of the tiny machine. There was a satisfying crunch as his hand hit the camera, then a click and a whir as it spat out a single undeveloped image. Impatient, Dio lifted the picture up and began shaking it rapidly, desperate to see the photograph in its entirety. Upon awakening from his slumber, Hermit Purple had been glowing softly in the darkness, coiled around his neck much less aggressively than it had been in his dream. Dio still didn't understand why- perhaps it was due to some long-dormant part of Jonathan's spirit that lingered in his body- but whenever his subconscious mind activated Hermit Purple while sleeping, his dreams took on a much more prophetic overtone.

Of course, this had only ever happened once before- though it had been nearly fifteen years ago… which was why Dio had to be absolutely sure of what he had seen in his nightmare.

Examining the photograph, Dio saw his son riding on his bicycle away from what appeared to be some sort of swamp. Miyuki would be home soon, it seemed- although he would only have enough time to cook dinner for Kei before leaving again, off to another shift at his part-time job. All in all, the picture would have been completely unremarkable… were it not for the unmistakable aura of a Stand user shimmering around the body of his son.

Dio stared at the image in disbelief. Could it really be…

The sound of the front door opening broke his concentration, alerting him to the arrival of his son. Caught off guard by Miyuki's sudden arrival, Dio tore the photograph in half, chucking the scraps into the trash can underneath his desk to dispose of the evidence.

"I'm home!" Miyuki hollered from the entranceway.

Dio rose from his study to find that his son was already halfway up the stairs, clearly trying to avoid a conversation.

"How was school today? Anything interesting happen?"

"It was fine. I got invited to join the student council."

"Really? What position?"

"General affairs officer."

"Are you going to accept?"

His son nodded. "Yeah."

"I thought you said you didn't want to get involved."

Miyuki gave his father a faraway smile, his eyes bright and full of fire. "I changed my mind."

"Good for you."

Clearly sensing that the conversation was over, Shirogane turned to head back up the stairs when he was stopped by the voice of his father.

"You know, if you're planning on running for president, you could always call-"

Miyuki paused, looking back over his shoulder. "Dad. No. I'm sure he'd be happy to help, but… I want to do this by myself."

"As you wish, then. I'm sure he'd understand."

His son nodded curtly, then disappeared up the stairs. Dio retreated back into the living room, then collapsed on the couch with a tired sigh.

There was no longer any doubt in his mind. The resolve in Miyuki's eyes was the resolve of a Stand user- a Joestar, at that. It was bright, and noble, and stronger than diamond- an unbreakable spirit forged by an unbreakable will. Before, when he gave his son the Moonwatch, Dio had seen only a fleeting glimpse of it, but now- now, it was all he could see. Now, it had eclipsed everything else. All of the fatigue, the anxiety, the hurt in the eyes of his son- all of it had been replaced by a ceaseless, unrelenting drive, an ambition that was forever fueled by that which burdened him.

Dio wasn't sure how he hadn't seen it before. Maybe it was because he simply didn't want to. He had never wanted this life- the life of a Stand user- for his children, and yet, by virtue of being their father, he had doomed them to it all the same.

You know… come to think of it, Haruno first developed his stand when he was around Miyuki's age, too.

Picking up the phone, Dio figured it was about time he gave his eldest son a call.


Miyuki stormed upstairs to his room, shutting the door behind him. The second the door was closed, he began furiously digging through his desk, finally finding what he had been looking for- a single sheet of paper and a felt-tipped black pen. His handwriting was messy, and he scribbled out the words in a hurry, as if he was afraid of forgetting them.

Become a man who can stand alongside Shinomiya.

Having taped his makeshift note to the wall, Miyuki stepped back to admire his handiwork. With the exception of the sign, all the walls of his room were unadorned. Miyuki had liked it that way- no overly sentimental artifacts, no posters or photographs- nothing to distract him.

But this sign was different. This sign was the opposite of a distraction- rather, it was a constant reminder of the path he had chosen for himself and the kind of man he wanted to become once he had reached its end. Whatever this feeling was, he knew he had already lost himself to it. But if each day was a battle, then Miyuki resolved that he would never lose again.

Become a man who can stand alongside Shinomiya.

Staring at the sign in silent determination as he summoned his resolve, Miyuki clenched his fist once more, unaware that the apparition from the lake had returned. It, too, clenched its first, mirroring his every move.