My updates are coming like one month at a time now. And it's kinda bugging me. Is this what Araki feels while doing Jojolion? Idk. Anyway, this chapter took long due to trying to figure out how to write it. Overall, I'm happy with how it all turned out. And I hope you guys will be too. Enjoy!

Ch. 28
Just Another Day

JANUARY 4TH, 1989
10:12
CAIRO, EGYPT

"This is an unexpected surprise… You are here earlier than we have planned."

"Yes. I hope this isn't a problem, Dio.

"None at all… But, that does make me curious as to why you would do so…"

"I sensed something was off in our last conversation. There was a certain edge to your voice, as if something did not go as you had intended. I was concerned… I just had to fly here earlier."

"You… were concerned…

"...

"... Then… I shall trust you from the bottom of my heart…"

"..? I… don't follow, Dio…"

"My… friend… within my manor, I have hidden a notebook. A diary of sorts… I have written in it for the sake of achieving heaven… It is incomplete. And until today, none know of its existence... One day, I wish for you to read it. Under which circumstances, I may not know. But if fate is truly something that isn't exaggerated, then there is a force of gravity that acts between people…

"If something exist between us, no matter what form it takes, you must read it…"

~+JO*JO+~

The place where the Tropic of Cancer (northern latitude 23°, 27 minutes) passes through… This region of the Nile River basin is known as "Nubia". In the past, the ancient Egyptians used the granite stones of this land to create many temples, statues, and monuments. And in the present, the modern Egyptians completed the world's second largest reservoir, the Aswan High Dam, in 1971. Even in this modern age, this land continued to produce such fascinating structures.

One of these Joaquín admired along their drive through this area was the Great Temple of Ramesses II. Similar to the lesser one nearby, this temple was carved right against a small mountain, four gigantic men seated around its entrance. All of them, including the second, nearly torso-less statue, depicted the namesake pharaoh. If ever he came back here, this would be one of the first places he'd visit. And he'd be sure to bring Della there as well.

"I never want to come back here," grumbled Jean Pierre as he drove them along a paved road. It had been a day after their battle with N'Dour. Joseph had managed to fix their car, as well as fit a new tire on. Both Mohamed and Noriaki were patched up as best as they could, but they both needed medical attention. The town they had stopped in that night held no hospital, but Aswan certainly did. And that was where they were headed this morning.

"You sure," asked Della. "It looks like a wonderful place."

"Oui. Fancy hotels or not, there's just way too much sand here." Plus it's so hot! Even here in winter!"

"Oh, it's not that hot. It could be worse."

"It is, we're in Egypt… Oh, merde, look!" Everyone beheld what looked like a pretty horrible accident. A delivery truck has smashed straight into a bus, tipping it over onto its side and wrecking the front. Some of the windows were broken, its passengers all strewn about on the road and the surrounding rocky terrain. One of these victims was lifelessly hanging against a telephone pole, his neck impaled by a steel rod. "My god, don't tell me this was another Stand attack..!"

Joaquín looked carefully at the scene and shook his head. "No," he said calmly. "This looks completely coincidental. If a Stand user was around, they'd make this look more deliberate. Someone was clearly not paying attention here."

"Thank goodness" grunted Joseph appreciative, though his tone was still mournful for those killed. "We've got bigger things to worry about than any enemies. We have to get the others to a doctor. Aswan's at least twenty to thirty kilometers away… We have to hurry…"

They all arrived in the city of Aswan about an hour later, where they first stopped at the ophthalmologist for Noriaki's eyes. Mohamed, meanwhile, was taken to a nearby hospital for his neck. Both Jean Pierre and Joaquín were patched up there as well, but they didn't worry too much. Their injuries were smaller and would heal much faster. It was a nice benefit from being a Stand user, but Joaquín knew it would have its limits. The larger injuries were proof of this.

"Worry not, Joaquín," Mohamed gently reassured when they all ate some lunch they bought at the hospital. "These injuries are not fatal at all. We shall be with you all soon."

Everyone spent the afternoon with the two injured, making sure their friends were comfortable while they rested. Around a quarter 'till 4, the group had bid their farewell, promising to return after dinner. They had yet to check out the town they were in, but they had no doubt they'd come upon somewhere nice to eat or drink. While they walked, they discussed the situation regarding their injured friends.

"Fortunately, nothing vital was wounded on Avdol's neck," said Joseph thankfully. "It looks like he might be discharged from the hospital tomorrow."

"But Noriaki's are pretty severe," said a fretful Della. "He was slashed straight along his eyeballs. He might lose his sight…"

"I'm worried about him," said Jean Pierre through his cigarette. The others shared the same sentiments, none more than Joutarou. If Joaquín didn't know any better, he would have thought that his brother had a crush on his friend. Regardless, it was sweet to see him care for someone, even if he wasn't facially expressive about it.

"Pains me to say this," and it sounded as if it did, "but… we might have to retire Kakyouin from this trip."

Joaquín sighed in disappointment. Gained one member back and lose another. God, this sucks. But he's alive, at least. That's the best we could ask for. "We won't have a choice," he said plainly. "But hopefully he'll be with us in the end… Jean Pierre, will you put that out? You trying to look cool or something, cause you're not."

He ignored his admonishment and said, "Hey, there' lots of cafes here. Let's just relax and get something in our stomachs."

"Fine. Choose, then."

The Frenchman took his cigarette and flicked it, letting it bounce on the street until it pointed to one of the many cafes that surrounded them. Once it stopped, they headed straight for the shop chosen for them to relax at. The worker there greeted them politely as they took their seats and approached. He was as tall as the Joestar brothers, tan with fat lips, long curls, and baggy eyes. His outfit was bizarre for a cafe worker, a vest over a regular shirt and jeans beneath his apron.

"Can I… take your order," he said carefully. Joaquín noticed how seedy his eyes were, which sent a shiver down his spine.

"I'd like some black tea, please," asked Jean Pierre. Everyone but Joseph made the same order.

"Yes… tea… five orders of tea…"

"No," interrupted Joseph. "We can't be ordering any tea or coffee."

"What's wrong, Monsieur Joestar," asked Jean Pierre in confusion.

"Listen. We're in Egypt, in enemy territory. Now more than ever, we can never know where our enemy is hiding or what they're planning. Like with plane crashes, we should be more cautious of things like poison. From now on, we only drink from anything bottled or canned." He then turned to the server and the nearby fridge and said, "Hey, give us some cola instead. Third, fourth, and fifth from the top second and third from the bottom as well. Just bring it to us without opening them."

"COLA," nearly choked the server.

"Yeah," said Joaquín, eyeing him suspiciously. "Is that a problem?"

He shook his head. "V-Very well… Cola then… five of them." But as he pulled out several Coke bottles from the fridge, one of the customers stood up and complained in Arabic. Nobody understood him, except that he was pointing to his bottle of Coke and was clearly disgusted. The server simply gave him an embarrassed apology before turning to the group and telling them in English, "M-My apologies… The r-refrigerator is broken. None of our sodas are cold."

It was like China all over again, only the soda wasn't purposefully hot. Even in another country, being offered hot cola did not sit well with Joseph. Jean Pierre simply chuckled and swiped another cigarette and reassuringly said, "Come on, Monsieur Joestar, you're acting too nervous. Look, let's say, for example, our server was the enemy, and he wanted to poison us… How would we know we came into this cafe?"

"You got a point there," said Joaquín. "There's a whole bunch of cafes here. The odds of an enemy being in one of them are slim."

Joseph shook his head. "All I'm saying is that it never hurts to be careful."

"So why don't we just change shop then?" He and the others stood up, ready to head to the cafe across the street. Unfortunately, there was a fire burning right in front of it. According to them, someone had dropped their cigarette, which ignited some litter on the street. It didn't take a genius to know whose fault it was.

Sheepishly, Joseph turned to the waiter and said, "Er… You know what, let's have those teas then, waiter."

Everyone sat back down. Within a few minutes, they were served five hot cups of black tea. Nothing looked or smelled suspicious about it them at all. Maybe Jean Pierre has a point, he thought as he looked at the fire. There are so many cafes. We should probably just relax and not worry about this too much…

"Man, what kind of idiot would throw their cigarette in the trash," said the Frenchman in an attempt to sweep his blunder under the rug.

"You fucking serious," asked Joaquín incredulously. He then reached into his pocket and swiped away his pack of cigarettes. "I hope that was a joke, otherwise, I'm gonna sic Iggy on you." He went to take a sip. The warm drink was on his lips for a second before-

"Eek! A dog just took my cake!"

Everyone spat their drinks and turned to a tourist couple whose table had been ravaged by dirt and spilled coffee. Iggy had immediately jumped off, his jowls coated in crumbs and icing. They had completely forgotten to keep an eye on him in a public setting like this. He had undoubtedly smelled the coffee and cake before taking the pastry. Plates were tossed, swears were spewed, and everyone's appetite was ruined. All thanks to a rowdy Boston terrier.

"Ce putain de chien," cursed Jean Pierre as he and everyone else ran after their thieving dog. "Get back here, damn you!"

They did not return to pay for the nearly-untouched tea.

~+JO*JO+~

"Hey... I'm curious to know... Dio... Of all the Stand abilities you have met... which would you say is the weakest..? What kind of person possessed it? It can be anyone you have met, whether it was someone from around the world... or someone whose Stand had newly manifested..."

"... Whoever they may be, based on their personalities, each person is the right person for the right place. A king is suitable as a king... a chef is suitable as a chef... That is what it means for them to live... Just like Stands, there is no concept of strength or weakness."

"That was an awful question... I wish to know on the same level as children when they playfully ask each other, 'Who's stronger? Stallone or van Damme?'"

"... The Stand named Survivor could be considered the 'weakest'. However, it's beyond anyone's control."

"Survivor... What a powerful name..."

~+JO*JO+~

It had been an hour since everyone had recaptured Iggy. By the time they finished, they had worked up their appetite again and stopped at another cafe. Joutarou didn't eat much, stating that he was going on ahead to visit Noriaki on foot. His brother, spurred by Joutarou's concern for his friend, decided that he would go and walk to the hospital as well.

"You guys relax," he told them as he left his share of the bill. "We'll catch up later, okay?"

"Wait, Joaquín," called out his grandfather. "Make sure that car's locked before you go! The keys are under the front seat!"

With a thumbs up, Joaquín made his way over to their car. It was somewhat careless to just leave their care unlocked the way Joseph did, but he knew that nobody would dare try to steal from them. They'd have to take us on first before they can do that. And yet, as he approached the car, he saw that he was proven wrong. There was a figure in the car, kneeling in the backseat with the sack of oranges the group had bought earlier. They were being looted.

"HEY," barked Joaquín, the figure inside holding still. "Who the hell's there?! You better let of whatever it is you have in there and step out of the fucking car!"

It did not look like Joutarou in the back. His clothes weren't dark. And yet his facial features were hidden by the sack. He couldn't get a good look at him."I don't know what you're doing, but you better back away and stand up. Otherwise my fist is going straight into your teeth! Come on!"

Whoever was inside slowly backed out and said in a familiar voice, "Oi, oi, what're you talking about?" He rose, and to Joaquín's amazement, it was Joutarou. "It's me, niisan."

"Joutarou," he asked in confusion. "What're you doing here? Didn't you say you were walking to the hospital?"

"Hm? The… The hospital? Oh, yeah. I came back cause I forgot something in the car. My wallet. Yeah, I forgot my wallet. Yare yare daze."

Looking over his brother, he took note of what he was wearing. A tan vest over a periwinkle blue shirt and jeans. Emblazoned on the shirt in pink was the word "OINGO". "Hey, what happened to your gakuran?"

"My… gakuran?" He was sounding uncharacteristically nervous."

"Yeah. The hell's this fashion sense you got, too?" He chuckled and tugged at his vest. "What's Oingo? Sounds like an elf's name or something."

"Oh, er, my clothes- I mean, my gakuran… It's… at the cleaners! I needed money for the cleaners, that's why I had to come back here."

"I see. So, tell me something, Joutarou…" He put a hand on his shoulder and leans in, a knowing smirk on his face and his eyes burning. "When are you gonna realize that you can't fool Joaquín Trejo with that tacky disguise, you impostor?"

The man's smile faded as he switched to English. "How… did you know it was a disguise?"

Joaquín simply chuckled and shook his head. "You just told me." The fake Joutarou blanched and started to back away, only for Preciosa's arm to shoot out and grab his collar. "Actually, everything gave it away. The same clothes as the cafe waiter, the nervous mannerisms, and then there's the simple fact that he had just walked out of the restaurant we were at with his wallet. So yeah. That's how I knew. Now tell me, are you working for Dio?"

"A-And if I am?! M-Me and my brother were paid to hunt you guys and kill you!"

"You're doing a bad job at it… er… what's your name?" The impostor meekly pointed to his shirt. "Oingo. You know, I'm impressed at your impersonation of my brother. I take it that's part of your Stand?"

"Y-Yes," said Oingo, poking at his cheek. "With my stand, the Divine Khnum, I can turn my height, weight, scent, face and voice into whomever I want. I can even change my hair to mimic stuff like hats."

"And it's about as tall as Jean Pierre's hair. You look like a clown. But I'll give you some props for trying." He looked back at the oranges. "I take it you weren't looting… What were you planning? And be honest, or I'll hold my promise of punching your teeth in."

The man gulped and continued speaking in Joutarou's voice. "I… was gonna plant an orange bomb… And it was meant for your brother. It would have hit the others, but mainly him. My brother... predicted it with his Stand… Joutarou is fated to be blown up by the bomb…"

A Stand like Yellow Temperance and another that can make predictions… That's a rather interesting combination… "I see… Well, if that's the case-

"Hey, Joaquín, Joutarou!"

It was Joseph, accompanied by the others. Oingo looked on in panic. Under any other circumstance, Joaquín would have outed the Stand user, but he held his tongue. If this man was right in that the bomb was meant for his brother, and if he kept his disguise…

Oh, this is gonna be fun.

"Hey guys," he said with a wave. "Joutarou got his uniform stained. He said he'll just come with us to the hospital." He turned and smiled at the would-be assassin. He wanted to see how long Oingo can fool the others before he breaks from being so close to the orange bomb he planted. It might have seemed cruel, but it was a fair punishment for someone who had the intent to kill them. And before he could flee or dispute, Joaquín grabbed his collar and dragged him into the car.

As they made their way to the hospital, Joaquín took a hold of one of the oranges, looking closer at it with his Stand. He could barely make out a seam around the top. So this is the bomb, he thought as he saw the disguised Oingo eyeing it with worry. He innocently offered it to him with a smile. "Come on, Joutarou," he said while hiding his amusement. "Have an orange. These are fresh off the tree."

His eye twitched before he snatched the fruit and tossed it. There was no reason to do so, considering that no matter what happened, he was still going to suffer either way. Perhaps he thought he could retrieve it later and actually use it while their backs were turned. That must have been the case, given how relaxed he looked now. But this wouldn't last.

"Hey, Monsieur Joestar," said Jean Pierre as he looked into the side-view mirror. "It's Iggy! He's running up to the car! And he even has an orange!" Oingo's eyes shot open. "He probably stole it… But maybe he got it for Kakyouin." They turned to the drivers window to see Iggy had leaped onto the car and was scrabbling inside. And in his mouth, much Oingo's horror, was the once-tossed orange bomb.

Naturally, the assassin screamed something that sounded like, "UHIII!"

"Joutarou, are you okay," asked Della worriedly.

"Yeah, why'd you scream 'uhi' for," asked Joseph, taking the orange and setting Iggy in the back. "You mean 'ushi'?

Oingo looked confused for a second before hastily saying, "Y-Y-Yeah, ushi. Cow. Right, uh… right over there, see?" He pointed out the window, where a cow and its owner were walking beside the road. Everyone gave one another a confused look before turning to the impostor. Even Joaquín, feigning suspicion if only to make him uncomfortable.

"Joutarou, what's going on," asked Jean Pierre as he took the orange from Joseph. His eyes fixed themselves on Oingo, growing cold and suspicious. I've been noticing that you've been acting strange since your brother bumped into you… It isn't much, but you're not your usual self. Don't tell me… you wouldn't be, by any chance… a faker… are you?"

Throughout their journey, there had been only two people who used disguises against them. And the Frenchman did not exactly appreciate someone taking the form of one of his friends. Knowing him, if Oingo broke his cover, he would end up as another pincushion. And he must have sensed it to, for he regained his composure and held up his act as Joutarou. " Yare yare," he groaned while adjusting his "hat". "What a stupid thing to say, Polnareff… Aren't we almost at the hospital?"

A moment of cold silence, then…

"Nah, they wouldn't be stupid enough to mimic my brother." Joaquín slapped his back and smiled knowingly at him. "If anyone did, they'd be dead already. Cause that's my brother." And he smiled wider, enjoying the look of fear washed over Oingo. "Am I right?"

"Y-Yeah… Of course…"

With the brief, tense moment passed, he decided he could have a little more fun. "Hey, Jean Pierre, you got a cigarette?"

Della gasped and slapped her boyfriend's arm. "J-Jojo, you can't be serious," she said in a scandalized tone. "You don't smoke at all! Are you really-"

"No, I'm not. But I wanna see if Joutarou could replicate that special trick he showed us yesterday."

"Special… trick," he asked confusedly.

Jean Pierre looked excited as he took out one of his cigarettes. Yeah, you taught it to me, remember?" He lit it up and stuck it in his mouth. Like this! I wanna see you do it!" He opened wide and carefully tilted the still-smoking stick into his mouth and closed it. Soon, the smoke streamed out from his nose as he let out an accomplished chuckle. While Joaquín did not like them smoking, he was nonetheless impressed at this stupid trick.

"Oh, you've gotten better at it, Polnareff," said Joseph proudly.

"Oh, that trick," said Oingo. "Y-Yeah, I can do that."

"Of course you can," said Joaquín. "It's easy. But I wanna see you do it with five like last time."

The assassin's face was sweating. "F-FIVE?!"

Ha! Let's see if you can do this. Can't back out, otherwise the others just might lay into you. And if you do manage to succeed…"

Jean Pierre handed him five cigarettes, which he stuck to his mouth and lit. He looked absolutely ridiculous right now. As did Joutarou, but the silliness was overshadowed by his success. While he was certain the impostor couldn't replicate such a feat, it was going to be funny seeing him burn himself trying. "Go on," he told them as Oingo. "Try it. Cause after this, you're done smoking, you hear?"

Oingo gave him a look that clearly screamed "SHUT UP!" as he opened his mouth and made his attempt. The burning cigarettes fumbled in his mouth as he tried not to tip them too far and burn himself. He looked rather nervous with everyone watching with bated breath. And then, they all tumbled in before he closed his mouth. No pain, no scream. Only smoke pouring from his nose. Everyone let out an impressed cheer.

Wow. That was… actually cool. I didn't think anyone else would be able to do something as crazy as this. I guess anything's possible when they're faced with pain or death. You got my respect for that.

"Here," said Jean Pierre as he pulled out a bottle. "Now this time drink some juice without putting the flames out again!"

His success only lasted for so long before he burned himself trying to drink.

"Oh, shit, he failed," shouted Jean Pierre.

"Joutarou, are you okay," cried out Della.

"OH MY GOD," roared Joseph in shock.

Meanwhile Joaquín was laughing himself silly at Oingo's failure and Iggy slept through the chaos. He felt only a little bad for the impostor, but that certainly didn't stop him from thinking he deserved this little torture. "I'm sorry, but that was just so funny," he said as Oingo spat out and snuffed the cigarettes.

"That was a bit too much," Della admonished. "Jean Pierre, how could you give him that juice! He could have been hurt worse than he already has! And Jojo, why would you even suggest he do something like that when you've been trying all this time to make him quit smoking?"

"Sorry, Della. I couldn't help it. I might hate his habit, but it looked too cool. Maybe we could try next time with something less cancerous."

"If you say so… But… all that aside…" She leaned over to Oingo, who was covering his mouth. "I kinda have to agree with Jean Pierre You have been acting very strange. You're all fidgety and… not as stoic."

Oingo's eyes darted to her, giving her a muffled, "I'm just a little…u-under the weather… I don't feel like I'm in good c-condition right now."

"They didn't give you anything bad in our food, did they?"

"I-I don't know…" He tried to calm himself down, hands now clasped on his lap. It looked as if he was thinking of a way out of this situation. But Oingo wasn't going to escape until Joaquín felt he had had enough. Perhaps one last scare would be enough to make him run for his life and consider never messing with them again.

His train of thought was stopped when Jean Pierre suddenly said, "Hey, Joutarou, the way you're holding your hands…" Now Joaquín was confused. What was he talking about? Looking at the impostor's gloved hands, there was nothing bizarre about the way he had them. But apparently, there was, because the Frenchman grabbed them and loudly said. "You! You hold your hands with you left hand over your right! Huh?!"

The air thickened as Oingo shot Joaquín a perplexed, fearful look. All Joaquín could do was shrug. I have no idea where this is going, he conveyed through that simple action. But it wasn't all too serious, for Jean Pierre let go and laughed mockingly. "The way you hold your hands proves you were a girl in a former life! Ah ha ha ha!" And as quick as the tension came, it soon deescalated into something stupid.

"Jean Pierre, what on earth are you going on about," asked and exasperated Della.

"According to fortune-telling, who you were in your former life is shown by the way you hold your hands. I hold my hands with my right thumb on top." He showed them all how he clasped his hands. "And that means I was born a male in a pat life."

"Really," asked Joseph, who held his hands the same way Oingo did for a moment. "Cause my left thumb naturally goes on top…"

"Heh heh! Then you were definitely a woman in a pat life, Monsieur Joestar!"

"What do you mean I definitely was?!" He sounded almost offended. "How the hell do you prove that?!"

As everyone laughed along with the silliness, Oingo held his head in his hands and muttered, "Such n-nonsense." Only Joaquín could hear him, and he could feel that he was getting close to his breaking point. He had felt just how terrified he was and the toll it was no doubt having on his hammering heart (something Preciosa's hearing managed to pick up). This would be the perfect moment to bring things home and harmlessly finish off the impostor.

"Hey, Joutarou, relax," said Joaquín as he thumped his fake brother's back. "You look as if you're gonna have a heart attack." He simply gave him a seething look, clearly hating him for dragging him into this situation. But he did bring this upon himself for even thinking he could pull one over the them. "Here, maybe this will help." He then reached over Jean Pierre's seat and snatched the orange-concealed bomb from him holding it at eye-level with a worried Oingo.

"Abuelita used to tell me the best remedies were the simplest. No matter what it was, she'd usually make some soup and give me a freshly squeezed glass of orange juice. I say we get some vitamin C in your system. What do you say?"

Joaquín dug his nails into the orange to open it. He didn't get to open it before Oingo shrieked in terror and flew into a panic. "DON'T KILL ME," he screamed as he undid his seat belt and flung himself out the door with no other warning. The others watched as he fled while Joaquín erupted in laughter.

"J-Jojo, just whats going on," asked Della, utterly confused and wide-eyed as Joseph stopped the car. "Why's Joutarou acting like that? And why do you think its funny?"

"B-Because," he gasped between his laughs. "That wasn't- That wasn't- Oh my god, that was so perfect!"

"Jojo, that wasn't what?"

It took him a moment for him to catch his breath. "That wasn't Joutarou at all! It was a Stand user disguised as him!"

Everyone else shouting a collective "WHAT?!" of disbelief.

"I know! But this guy had the same kind of ability as that Yellow Temperance! He sneaked to the car and tried planting a bomb, then he changed his looks to Joutarou's and tried lying! And after that, I just took him along for the ride to fuck with him!"

Joseph's eyes could not be any wider. It was as if his grandson had spouted the most nonsensical story he could come up with. Only he believed it. And it did not make him happy at all. "You willingly let one of Dio's men get close to us like that? Have you lost your mind?! We could have died!"

"But we're all okay! Come on, you think I'm actually gonna let a pendejo like him hurt you guys like that? No! Besides, I told you, I brought him along to fuck with him. Just scare him enough to drive him away. And I did! From the cigarettes to the orange!"

"Why the orange," asked Jean Pierre, eyeing it curiously. "Isn't that the same one Iggy had in his mouth?"

"Yeah, he threw it out. This was a bomb he tried to plant for Joutarou." Everyone backed away from him immediately, eyes widened in fear. "Relax. I don't think it's timed at all. I think he just wanted Joutarou to open it so it could blow up in his face."

"W-Why him?! And why didn't you throw it away?!"

"The fake tried, but Iggy got to it. He said it had something to do with some prediction his brother made. I think- Oh, hold on." He had Preciosa appear and take it, his Stand throwing it out his window behind them as far as he could. "Okay, so I think the reason he was flipping out was because he was disguised as Joutarou. And he might have thought that he was effectively replacing him in that so-called prophecy. That's part of why I scared the hell out of him."

Everyone was agape in silence once he finished. The only one to break it was Della. "You know something, Jojo," she started slowly, "this might have been one of the craziest things you've ever come up with… But you know what else?" She smiled and pulled him into a deep kiss. "It's those crazy ideas that make you one hell of a genius."

His heart warmed as he smiled widely back at her. "What can I say? Crazy ideas run in the family." Joseph, who recounted his battles and the ingenious and insane tricks he pulled to attain victory, smiled at the compliment. "Besides, he was a wimp. I didn't have it in me to properly beat him up. I mean, he tried getting us with a bomb, for god's sake. How stupid and wimpy is that? I would have rather had that prophecy or whatever do him in."

And just as Joaquín finished his sentence, a distant explosion rang out behind them. He didn't look back like the others, but was rather frozen in place. Then they looked back at him, to which he said, "Well… Looks like I spoke right on time. It did do him in."

"Should, er, we go check on him," she said tentatively.

"Um… You know what, no. Let's not. I don't wanna add insult to injury, considering I've insulted him enough."

Without the impostor sitting within punching distance, Joaquín was able to unwind through the rest of the ride to the hospital. His battle, if he could even call it that, was one of the more interesting he'd ever been in. There were no punches thrown or blood shed at all. Simply psychological torture to break his opponent mentally. And he won. Man, Joutarou's gonna get a kick out of this one, he thought proudly. He probably would have done the same thing, too.

Speaking of his brother, was mere feet away from entering the hospital when they arrived. He stopped and turned to the car as they pulled up behind him, getting out to greet him. "Joutarou, aren't you sweating from wearing all that," asked Della as they approached.

"Yes," he said flatly, which was rather welcoming to them. "And my legs are on fire. But it was a good exercise. Where were you you guys? You came a little later than I thought."

Joaquín approached him and said in amusement, "Oh, Joutarou, you won't believe what happened." And so he told them everything that had happened with the impostor. While the elder brother found this all amusing, even laughing when he brought up the cigarettes, the younger didn't so much as smile. Once the story finished, Joutarou merely shook his head.

"Yare yare daze," he muttered in exasperation. "That was the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"But you believe me, right? I've got four other witnesses to all this."

"I believe you. But it's still stupid. Not cause you endangered yourselves, but because someone thought they could try to kill me with a simple bomb."

"I know, right?!"

Just as they were about to walk in, an ambulance wailed its way towards the hospital as well. When it stopped and opened its back doors, they could see two people inside on gurneys. One of them was a boy with a beaten-up face and large hair that stuck out everywhere. A large book rested on his lap. The second was none other than Oingo, covering his bloody, mangled face with an ice pack. Joaquín assumed the boy was the man' little brother he had heard of.

"Hey, those aren't the brothers you were talking about, are they," asked Joutarou, taking an orange from the bag Della had carried.

"Oh my, you're right," she exclaimed. "And look at that boy! You don't think he was caught in the explosion, do you?"

"Only one way to find out.," said Joaquín, who approached the injured brothers. The medics turned to him curiously, who he told, "I'm their friend. I came to check on them. Mind if I talk to them for a bit?" They nodded and stepped back, leaving him with the two. He took a moment to better look at them, noticing that the boy showed no signs of being anywhere near the bomb. Looking back at Oingo, he saw that he too had bruises all over his ruined face and arms.

"Geez, what happened to you? This wasn't just because of the bomb, was it?"

Oingo slowly shook his head, whining in pain from even moving it. He then raised a finger to his brother's book. Confused, Joaquín reached out to the book, only stopping when the boy gave him a fearful look. "It's okay," he said reassuringly. "I'm gonna put it back. Your brother wants me to look at it."

With him giving a nod of confirmation, Joaquín carefully took it and examined the cover. It was called Oingo Boingo Brothers Adventure, with bizarre caricatures of the brothers before him. He didn't take his time reading all of it, simply skimming through. Everything was in the same wacky style, depicting the shy owner of the book and his brother. But what was strange was some of the events that unfolded, which lined up eerily to the events of today.

For starters, Boingo had been visited by a man who took a bus and ended up impaled in the neck on a telephone pole. Just like they had witnessed this morning Then there were silly drawings of himself and the group, discussing their injured friends and nearly being poisoned at a cafe. The same cafe his grandfather expressed worry about that exact thing.

So this is that kid's Stand, he thought with a shiver. He's able to view the future with this. But how much can he predict?

Reading further, he saw that Oingo punched some innocent man over his appearance. And then there was the car bomb, which, as the elder brother mentioned, actually was meant for Joutarou. But because he had disguised himself as him, he was the one who was injured. After that, the man whose face was punched had caught up with the brothers with his own posse. Looks like they got their comeuppance for all this. Turning the page, he saw that the rest of the book was blank.

"So I'm guessing that this book only reads into the immediate future," he stated as he set it back on Boingo's lap.

He nodded.

"And I'm also guessing that all this is accurate, but it has to be interpreted properly for the right results."

Another nod.

"Like, if my brother was with us and not yours, he would have gotten hit by the explosion."

Yet another nod, followed by a quiet stammer."M-M-My Stand… Divine T-Thoth's p-predictions… are a-a-a-a-a-absolutely one hundred p-percent… Y-Yes…"

He looked back at the book, then at the two brothers. "You both have some interesting Stands. With the powers you have, you could actually use them to help others. Maybe even entertain them." The brothers looked curiously at him, unsure as to whether Joaquín was serious or not. "Listen, you both have potential. I'm sure Dio's told you the same thing. But you could use it for so much more than trying to kill us. You can use it for good. You can make a name of yourselves.

"I can't control what paths you guys will take. All I can do is offer my own advice to you. Whether you accept it or not, it's your choice… I wish you both a safe recovery. And I'm sorry that I put you through hell" And he meant it. He knew that, among the scum Dio had hired to do them in, there were good, yet confused hearts. N'Dour and Chor Dette were some. These brothers were another. He could see it in their eyes that despite their actions, they were not truly bad people.

Joaquín could not bring himself to hate them. And he prayed that they do follow his advice. Nobody like them deserved to die all because of that villain Dio…

~+JO*JO+~

"Say... Did you know, Pucci, that the Louvre in Paris is said to have an average of 40,000 visitors in a single day? Recently, I've seen a concert with this man named Michael Jackson on television with the same amount of people, but it's not often this happens. The Louvre has been this way every day for decades. The building opened in 1793. And every day, at least 40,000 people go there, attracted to Mona Lisa and Venus de Milo. And they won't leave until they have seen them both.

"Is that not something amazing?"

"Do you mean to say the numbers are amazing?"

"Not so... What is excellent is how painters and sculptors are able to make their own souls visible through their work. Almost akin to a Stand that could transcend time and space. Do you not think so? Especially the Mona Lisa or Venus de Milo..."

"Quite an interesting story... So Leonardo da Vinci was a Stand user?"

"Hey... I'm talking about you as well. Your Whitesnake can shape souls and preserve them.

"...

"Are you going to betray me someday? Why do you not attack me? You know my weakness is sunlight... and that I sleep in darkness during the day. You're easily capable of killing me as I sleep... You could become a king if you make The World into a disc and take it.

"Do it..."

"...

"I have never thought of such a thing. I admire those who help me grow myself. To me, you are the king of kings. Where are you going? I want to go with you. I love you as I love God."

"..."

"..."

"... I have insulted you... I'm sorry... I never would have thought it myself... a person who puts my mind at ease just by speaking with him... I was afraid that you would disappear... You will become a noble clergyman... Take it... a sign of my apology… I pulled it out of my body just now…

"No matter where you are... I will bring you power… Pucci…"

~THE OINGO BOINGO BROTHERS: RETIRED~

This one was a very tricky chapter to write. I knew I was gonna have trouble deciding how to go about this. At first, thought about switching the perspective mainly to Boingo, but I was finding that a bit difficult. Even in Joaquin's perspective, this chapter was a bit odd to do. And yet here are. With all that said, thanks for reading this chapter! I'll see you all next time!