Chapter Text
A light, hot wind of a summer, sunny, joyful day, with the atmosphere of a golden childhood, blows outside, carrying fallen leaves from the trees where the first fruits began to grow. The first dandelions bloomed, which are the main sign of summer, carrying with them the happiness of a carefree childhood. The sand, reminiscent of a beach, was heated by the terrible sun. On the calendar hanging on the wall, June 21st was marked in red. The wall clock showed 12:18.
A woman, no longer the youngest, but still retaining her former beauty: green hair mixed with brown, deep eyes of the same color, a slender, even athletic figure, without a single new wrinkle, sat on the sofa, waving a fan.
— Damn, it's hot today! — a man approached the woman, whose hair was longer than his wife's, and the color was much brighter, but also gentle at the same time. The color, the hairstyle, nothing matches the character of the owner of the hair. A man of strong build hugged a woman, lying down next to her.
— Anasui, it's hot! Come on, leave me alone," she kicked her husband off the couch, which caused the latter to land on the floor, hitting his back painfully.
— Jolene, darling, why are you doing this to me? — the husband jokingly cried, making his wife laugh maliciously.
— For not washing the dishes. You know, I'm going to cook something, and you keep lying down. You don't have to help me, but it's not a fact that you're going to have lunch... — Jolene got up, went to the kitchen, but before she could get the potatoes, Anasui ran up to her, starting to do the housework first. This caused Jolene to smile happily, realizing that even though the rumors surrounding her husband's past were terrible, he was a wonderful man himself. The man she fell in love with.
A 17-year-old teenager, like his father's twin brother: the same long, pink hair, not matching the character of the owner, muscular build, but with his mother's eyes, the same deep, green, even moderately emerald, ran up to the sofa from which Jolene had recently got up, immediately lay down, but more comfortably, in parallel including the TV. Flipping through the channels, he was lying down, even starting to fall asleep, when the phone buzzed.
— Jonaro! Pick up the phone! — his mother shouted from the kitchen, where something was happening. An explosion? Or did the oil catch fire? Or has something worse happened?
— Yes, Mom, — the teenager answered and lazily went to the ringing phone, which prevented the last one from watching TV, on which an interesting program was playing. — Hello? Who is it?
— Hello, grandson... — the eerily familiar voice of a man whom he had not seen for a long time sounded hollowly. He had even heard his voice for the last time 10 years ago.
— Grandfather?.. — the guy said in shock, whose breathing began to falter from the surprise of the call, — how are you? How are you?
— I'm fine, but let's get to the point. I don't remember if I told you that I flew to Italy about thirty years ago.
— Wow, to Italy? For what purpose? The teenager raised his eyebrows in surprise, imagining the further conversation.
— You see, Jonaro, there is one problem.
— Tell me, old man, — the grandson grinned, examining the bedside table on which there is a phone. Suddenly, he heard birds outside the window, which appeared so unexpectedly that Jonaro jumped in fear.
— Once upon a time there was, or maybe there is, one person in Italy — Giorno Giovanna. He calmed down as quickly as he showed up, which sets us up.
— Yeah... yeah…
"Considering the power he has, it's very scary. We need to figure it out before the storm starts," the man concluded, after which a lighter could be heard from the other end, apparently lighting a cigarette.
— What do you mean by "storm"?
— By storm, I mean anything. Everything.
"Even the end of everything?" The boy grinned again, twirling his hair around his finger, laughing now and then, joking, but not taking what was said seriously.
- yes. Even the end of everything.
"What do you suggest we do?" Jonaro strained, hearing his grandfather's tone. Jotaro was always serious, but he had never seen such seriousness. Even during his periods of anger. His tone had never been so heart-wrenching, so frightening.
— Jonaro, it's your turn to save the world, — everything around will be quiet for Jonaro. The same birds outside the window that were humming their beautiful melody just a minute ago, the kitchen where food is being cooked on a hot fire, the TV that Jonaro did not have time to turn off. Even the conversation between father and mother in the kitchen, where there was a fire. The silence suddenly began to weigh down, and my heart seemed to stop beating. My hands were shaking, my breath was out of control, and my legs didn't even want to hold me.
— What are you talking about?! — I almost shouted, but at the same time, Jonaro said in a whisper, watching as everything returned to normal and even faster.
"Joe, I know what I'm talking about. I have no doubt that you can.
— I can't even fight!
— You have a booth.
— Which I don't know how to use?
— A very strong stand.
— Which I don't know how to use?!
"You can do it, Jonaro.
— I'm…
"You will be accompanied by Aki Hirose, the son of my friend, Koichi Hirose.
— This is... grandfather, let me think. I'll call you back," the boy said, hanging up.
— Joe, who called? — asked the mother, who was in the kitchen, where she was chopping cabbage.
— Grandfather.
— Dad? What was he calling for?
— Well... he's suspicious of Giorno Giovanna's lull and he wants me to track and follow him.
— Have you given your answer yet?
— I asked you to give me time to think.
— Joe, I'm not letting you go anywhere. I didn't want to lose you yet," the mother looked sternly at her son, even stopping cooking.
— Yes, I thought so too... I just thought not to go.
"It seems to me that it would be worth going," the boy's father, Narcisso, intervened. Looking into the deep eyes of his beloved, he froze.
— Do you remember what happened to us, you fool?! — the object of Narcissus's affection, whom he has loved for several decades now and is getting stronger every year, intervened.
— I remember, that's why I know Joe can handle it.
— And if not?!
— I'm sure. You can trust me.
— You…
— Mom, Dad, I'll think about it myself and come to a decision. Stop swearing already," their son interrupted the parents' quarrel.
— Lunch is coming soon, get ready.
— I'm not hungry, Mom, — having said that, the pink-haired man retired to his room.
Entering his abode, the young man saw a bird stuck in a tree.
— Poor bird. Did you break a wing? The teenager whispered, tying his hair into a tight ponytail.
Opening the window slightly, the boy looked at the bird, which was screaming hysterically, either from pain, or from fear and panic. A huge figure appeared behind the teenager, visible only to him, but capable of scaring anyone, grabbed the bird and brought it to Jonaro, who put the bird on his arm and began to examine it.
"So you're still a kid?" I wonder what kind of bird you are…
The bird started pecking at Jonaro, begging him to let it go. The bird was afraid of everyone, especially people.
— Oh, don't bite me! It hurts. Although, it probably hurts you more, poor guy. Let me tie up your wing, you stay with me for a while and I'll let you go. Agreed?
The bird, as if understanding, agreed with Jonaro, who began carefully rewinding its wing. He did it with such tenderness, as if he was afraid to break an already frightened bird even more.
"If I go, what's the benefit to me? What will I get in return? And if I don't go, will I feel better?" flashed through Jonaro's mind, looking at the bird.
***
Jonaro woke up, but did not even think to get out of bed. It had already been 3 days, but his condition was just as apathetic: it was difficult for him to do anything. It's all because of the situation that worries him. Indeed, if he goes, will he benefit from it? What is she like? A ring, diamonds, gold? And if he doesn't go, what will he lose? Is it the same ring, the same diamonds, or is it the same gold? Or is there a threat of losing peace on earth? The latter scared him the most. He didn't know what was going to happen, but it was something very bad. Jonaro knew that. He was afraid of the mysterious, with any outcome, both good and bad, or even with a neutral, unaffected outcome, the unknown.
It was as if Jonaro had found an iron determination in a second, which gave him the strength to get up, go down to the first floor, where his parents are in charge, and said:
— Mom, Dad. I've made a decision. I'm going.
