The sunset painted the sky red.
As if the world itself felt guilty for failing to protect one of its heroes.
Lisa Lisa and Joseph sat on the villa's terrace.
Joseph hadn't spoken in hours.
He held Caesar's scarf in his hands—twisted, dirty, still carrying the scent of battle.
—You let him go, Joseph muttered suddenly. You, his teacher.
And you know what? So did I.
Lisa Lisa said nothing. Not because she had no words, but because none would've helped.
Then…
a step.
Another.
A shadow climbing the hill, unsteady.
With the sun at its back.
With a silhouette… unmistakable.
Joseph looked up.
—No.
His heart jumped in his chest.
—No way!
The figure came closer.
Bandages.
Scrapes.
Dried blood.
But… a living smile.
—JoJo…? Caesar murmured.
Joseph dropped to his knees.
—CAESAR!
He ran to him.
Caught him before he collapsed.
Held him.
And cried—without shame.
—YOU IDIOT! YOU DAMN PROUD IDIOT! HOW DARE YOU BE ALIVE?! I CAN'T WITH YOU!
Caesar laughed, just barely.
—I… couldn't deal with me either.
Lisa Lisa approached.
Looked at her student's face.
And for the first time in days… her eyes shone.
—Welcome back, Caesar Zeppeli.
But the wind shifted.
It wasn't cold.
It was dense.
As if someone had opened an invisible door in the fabric of the story.
And then a voice spoke:
—Lovely scene.
A figure emerged from a side column, arms crossed, half his face in shadow.
Leo.
His posture was firm. Elegant. Not aggressive… but not innocent either.
—I didn't mean to interrupt. Though… in a way, I wrote it.
Joseph reacted instantly.
He stepped between Caesar and the stranger.
—Who the hell are you?! How'd you get here?!
Leo took a step forward.
His Stand—unseen to them—floated in slow circles behind him.
—I've been here since before Caesar fell. You were too busy feeling the story… to notice someone else was rewriting it.
Lisa Lisa looked at him.
And then froze.
—No…
She took a step.
Came closer.
—Your face… it's…
Leo smiled, very softly.
—Familiar, isn't it?
Lisa Lisa didn't blink.
—You look just like George. George Joestar II.
Joseph narrowed his eyes.
—My father?
Leo tilted his head.
—I'm not him. But… I am a Joestar. Of another ink.
Lisa Lisa lowered her voice.
—It can't be. George died in the war. And you…
Leo interrupted, calmly.
—I'm not a ghost.
And just so you don't think I'm the enemy…
He extended his palm.
Took a deep breath.
And channeled Hamon.
A golden current ran through his arm—perfectly controlled.
A nearby leaf trembled.
Some flowers bloomed instantly.
Lisa Lisa stepped back.
—Pure Hamon…
Joseph scowled.
—How do you have that?
Leo met his gaze.
—I learned it from books… you haven't read yet.
[System: Resonance stabilized. Group: alert → contained distrust.]
[Bond with Lisa Lisa: semi-stable. Joseph: hostile. Caesar: in debt.]
Lisa Lisa took a deep breath.
—You can stay.
Leo raised an eyebrow.
—Was that an order, or acceptance?
—It's the closest you'll get to a welcome.
Joseph clicked his tongue.
—I don't care what face you have, or if you use Hamon. If you try anything weird—
—I'll die, Leo interrupted. I know.
Believe me… I know.
Leo turned.
Walked into the courtyard shadows.
And murmured to himself:
—What you call "canon"… I call a draft.
His Stand spun slowly.
The pages around him opened with an invisible breeze.
And in them…
a new silhouette.
Kars.
Still without the Red Stone.
Still imperfect.
Still… in time.
—And now… it's your turn.