(￣～￣)
A strange flavor. Not like clean water, yet not like water that had touched a dirty floor either. Just water, yet possessing some kind of nourishment. Nourishing, yet it hadn't directly strengthened any particular part of her the way things she'd eaten before had.
"A sinner's soul."
Revelation—the aspect of Miracle she was least proficient with—suddenly offered that interpretation. Nothing she'd eaten before had ever triggered a Revelation.
"Is that related to attaining Heaven?" Yimi asked, puzzled. But no one answered.
She fiddled with the shower knob, then let her eyes drift to the side.
The misfortune of "getting dirty" would be flung away. Kitty could go without brushing her teeth or washing her face every day and still be a perfectly clean kitty—and besides, she really didn't like getting wet.
Being the clever girl she was, she aimed the showerhead at the floor and let it run for a while, then bolted out.
"I'm done!"
"...You were in there less than five minutes. Trying to be a naughty little liar? Your nose is going to grow, you know." Joseph saw through her little deception instantly.
Yimi clapped both hands over her nose. "It didn't grow."
Scared the daylights out of her. If her nose turned into some weird shape she'd never be able to face mama again.
Joseph shook his head helplessly and waved her over. "Fine, fine. Come here and take a group photo first. After that, you're taking a real bath, and then we're calling Suzi-obaachan. She hasn't heard your voice in two days."
"Jotaro, go call a staff member to take our picture."
"You really know how to order people around, old man."
Yimi trotted over and stood right in the middle, gazing curiously at Polnareff as he struck a pose.
"Alright, look at the camera." Polnareff held her head still.
A not-entirely-satisfactory group photo printed out from the camera. After all, they didn't have any scenic landmarks behind them—it wasn't even someone's home.
"Now then." Purple vines crept from Joseph's hand as he brought his palm down on the camera, wringing its final use out of it.
At close range, Spirit Photography yielded much clearer results—like when they'd been searching for Iggy and it had printed the most distinctive signpost near him.
"What's this?" Joseph stared at the photo in surprise.
It wasn't a building as he'd expected. It looked more like the aftermath of an air disaster—a burning helicopter lying on its side behind DIO. It looked as though the man had single-handedly shot down an aircraft. The sight plunged the group's morale even lower, though they hadn't been underestimating him to begin with.
What they didn't know was that the helicopter had actually been DIO's own ride just moments ago.
"What an unpleasant emergency landing."
His subordinates were certainly capable, but information technology in this era had its limits. DIO didn't yet know that the people he was after were already in Egypt—he'd been preparing to head for Japan under cover of night to settle this blood feud once and for all.
Just moments ago, the subordinate piloting the helicopter had his head pierced by a force even DIO couldn't see clearly, killing him instantly. The resulting crash was unavoidable.
After all, the pilot had to sit behind glass to operate the helicopter. Turning him into a Vampire would've meant instant cremation come daylight.
After waiting a short while and confirming the incident hadn't been a deliberate attack, DIO touched the star-shaped mark on the back of his neck.
"Ho ho, I see. So the Joestar bloodline has already come to Egypt?"
Even without strong premonition, the threads of fate dictated that the Joestars must have arrived in Egypt for an accident like this to keep him here.
"'Fate' is such an unpleasant thing."
Now that the confrontation was imminent, DIO paradoxically felt less urgency about severing the Joestar connection. The accident had only reinforced the importance of attaining Heaven and breaking free from destiny.
DIO flew to the nearest town from the crash site and perched atop the tallest building, looking down.
The frequent feeding on "little breads" these past two days—necessitated by the "curse" on his body—had been at a rate rivaling an entire month's worth, and had accelerated the fusion with Jonathan's body.
Whether it was the body's increasing compatibility or the lingering curse of Jonathan etched into it, DIO's grasp of the Joestars' Stand—Hermit Purple—had visibly weakened. That was the main reason he'd learned of their arrival in Egypt even later than his own subordinates.
Gazing downward, as if sensing something, DIO narrowed his eyes.
Something was approaching him. One of his subordinates? No...
Tap, tap, tap—
"Who goes there?" DIO folded his arms, asking quietly.
But his eyesight had already pierced the darkness and identified the newcomer: a pink-haired youth bearing a Flesh Bud he'd planted.
Though he rarely bothered to keep track of every pawn at his disposal, DIO was certain he'd remember recruiting someone with hair that flamboyant.
"DIO...-sama." The youth called his name softly, ascending the stairs step by step.
Then his pupils twisted at an unnatural angle, jerking left and right, and his voice shifted to something cold and imperious:
"This is a trial."
He crossed his arms, gripped the hem of his shirt, and lifted it—revealing a muscular physique wholly different from the boy a moment ago.
"On the road to becoming the Emperor of Evil, 'trials'—stepping stones to the next level—are an indispensable stage. Only by taking a step far larger than any before can one reach greater heights."
King Crimson!
As the shirt came fully off, a man covered in black line-like tattoos stood revealed before DIO. The Flesh Bud at his temple had been excised in an instant.
Diavolo. Stand name: King Crimson.
He possessed the ability to briefly foresee events in the immediate future. Like Boingo's predictions, his foresight was normally immutable.
But paired with that was his ability to erase a span of time. The "process" would be deleted, leaving only the "result." Only Diavolo himself was exempt and aware of what transpired during the erased interval—a perfect complement to Epitaph's foresight, allowing him to dodge unfavorable outcomes.
Like Star Platinum, his Stand had the precision to strip a Flesh Bud. As for why the Bud hadn't controlled him—that had everything to do with his dual personality.
As the dominant personality, Diavolo could hide behind his alternate personality, Doppio, and think freely—even conceal his existence from Doppio entirely. Doppio flying all the way from Italy to Egypt to pledge loyalty had been done with Diavolo's tacit permission.
He wanted to see what kind of person had the audacity to think they could make Diavolo a subordinate.
"Ho ho?"
DIO regarded Diavolo with interest.
From an observer's perspective, the timid boy on the bottom step had simply transformed and appeared at the stairway's midpoint in the blink of an eye.
"This one..." Could he also stop time? Stop the time of someone as exalted as him?
The World!
Time froze in an instant—that was DIO's Stand ability: Time Stop.
He rubbed his chin and studied the immobilized Diavolo for two seconds. The pink octopus-head was completely unable to move.
DIO had The World carry Diavolo back down the stairs, then flew back to his original position and folded his arms, looking down at him.
Time resumed.
"What?!"
Now it was Diavolo's turn to stare in shock. From his perspective, he'd clearly just climbed the stairs, yet in an instant he was back at the starting point.
Could this man also erase time—erase events that had already occurred?