Yoshikage Kira stared at his hand in the dim light of his apartment, watching as Killer Queen manifested and dematerialized repeatedly, each cycle precise and controlled.
He'd been doing this for three hours now, ever since returning from the U.S.J. incident, and with each repetition, the same thought echoed in his mind:
I almost lost.
Not to All Might. Not to the heroes. Not even to Shigaraki's incompetent planning.
To the Nomu.
A mindless bio-weapon with no strategy, no intelligence, no tactical thinking had come closer to defeating him than anyone else in this universe. And the reason was simple, unavoidable, and deeply humbling:
Killer Queen's primary ability hadn't worked on it.
"I was arrogant," Yoshikage said aloud, and Killer Queen tilted its head in what might have been agreement or question. "I assumed that because I had a Stand—because I had knowledge of the plot, because I was smarter than this universe's villains—I was untouchable. I assumed my advantages were insurmountable."
He clenched his fist, and Killer Queen mirrored the gesture.
"I was wrong."
The Nomu had taught him a crucial lesson: power without preparation was just another way to die. He'd been operating under the assumption that Killer Queen's abilities would be unstoppable in a universe that didn't understand Stands, that his invisibility and untraceable attacks would be sufficient against any threat.
But the Nomu hadn't needed to understand Stands. It had simply been resistant to Killer Queen's primary bomb, either through some quirk of its bio-engineering or because of how its multiple Quirks interacted with Stand abilities. The exact mechanism didn't matter—what mattered was that his supposedly unbeatable trump card had failed.
And if it could fail once, it could fail again.
"I've been treating this like a game," Yoshikage continued, standing and pacing his apartment. "Like I'm playing on easy mode because I have meta-knowledge and a Stand. But this isn't a manga anymore. This is real. People here can actually hurt me. Kill me. And my Stand, for all its power, isn't perfect."
Killer Queen's eyes seemed to gleam with something that might have been approval.
Because the truth was, the original Yoshikage Kira had been powerful but ultimately beatable. He'd had incredible abilities and had still lost because he'd been complacent, overconfident, unwilling to push beyond his comfort zone.
This Yoshikage refused to make the same mistake.
"If I'm going to dismantle Hero Society," he said, stopping his pacing and facing Killer Queen directly, "if I'm going to survive in a universe full of people with physics-defying powers, I need to be better. Stronger. More versatile."
He pulled out a notebook—not one of his intelligence dossiers, but a fresh one—and began writing.
Current Limitations and Weaknesses:
1. Killer Queen's primary bomb ability does not work on certain targets (Nomu, possibly other bio-engineered or heavily modified individuals)
2. Physical body is relatively weak - civilian level fitness, no combat training beyond basic self-defense
3. Over-reliance on Stand abilities creates predictable attack patterns
4. Bites the Dust is reactive, not proactive - protects identity but doesn't prevent danger
5. No long-range offensive options besides Sheer Heart Attack, which is slow and heat-dependent
6. Stand abilities, while powerful, are currently at baseline - no evidence of evolution or growth beyond what original Kira achieved
He stared at the list, feeling something cold settle in his stomach.
Six major weaknesses. Six ways he could be defeated if an enemy was smart enough to exploit them.
Unacceptable.
"We're going to fix this," Yoshikage said firmly. "All of it. Starting tonight."
Killer Queen stood beside him, silent and ready, and Yoshikage began planning his training regimen with the same meticulous attention to detail he applied to everything else.
Day 1: Physical Assessment
Yoshikage started with the basics: understanding exactly how pathetic his current physical condition was.
He was seventeen years old, average height, slightly underweight from poor eating habits and a sedentary lifestyle. His previous life as a wage slave had involved sitting at a desk for twelve hours a day, and his current life as a reincarnated teenager had been focused almost entirely on intellectual pursuits and Stand development.
The result was predictable: he had the muscle tone of wet cardboard.
He tested his baseline with simple exercises. Push-ups: twelve before failure. Pull-ups: zero. Running: half a kilometer before he was gasping for air. Flexibility: he couldn't touch his toes.
"Pathetic," he muttered, lying on the floor of his apartment after attempting sit-ups. "Absolutely pathetic."
Killer Queen manifested above him, and if Stands could look judgmental, it was managing it.
"Don't look at me like that," Yoshikage said. "You're literally my fighting spirit. This is your failure too."
But he knew that wasn't true. Stands were manifestations of willpower and life energy, not physical fitness. Killer Queen's capabilities were independent of his body's condition.
Which meant his weakness was entirely his own fault.
"Alright," he said, forcing himself to sit up despite his protesting abs. "If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it properly. No half-measures."
He pulled out his laptop and began researching.
Physical training regimens. Nutrition plans. Combat sports. Everything he could find about building strength, speed, and endurance from a poor baseline.
Most of the information was targeted at Quirk users, which was frustrating—half the advice involved "use your Quirk to enhance training" or "work with a Quirk specialist to develop personalized exercises." But he filtered through the noise and found the fundamentals.
Strength training. Cardiovascular conditioning. Flexibility work. Proper nutrition. Rest.
It was going to take months. Maybe years to reach peak human condition.
But Yoshikage had time. And more importantly, he had motivation.
He created a training schedule: mornings for strength and conditioning, evenings for flexibility and skill work, proper meals at regular intervals, eight hours of sleep.
It was boring. It was going to be painful. It was going to interfere with his other plans.
He was going to do it anyway.
Day 3: The Hamon Question
The idea came to him while he was researching breathing techniques for cardiovascular improvement.
Proper breathing was essential for physical performance. Controlled respiration improved oxygen delivery, enhanced endurance, facilitated recovery. Every serious athlete and martial artist emphasized breathing.
And in JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, proper breathing was the foundation of Hamon.
Yoshikage sat up from his cool-down stretches, mind racing.
Hamon. The Ripple. The technique developed to fight vampires and Pillar Men, using controlled breathing to produce energy identical to sunlight. It had been the primary power system in Parts 1 and 2, before Stands were introduced.
And unlike Stands, Hamon could be learned.
"It's from the same universe as Stands," Yoshikage said aloud, thinking it through. "If Stands can exist in this world, if I have Killer Queen despite being reborn here, then the underlying metaphysics must be compatible."
Killer Queen appeared beside him, listening.
"And Hamon is just controlled breathing and life energy manipulation," Yoshikage continued. "There's no genetic requirement, no special inheritance. Just technique and training. Jonathan Joestar learned it in a few weeks. Joseph learned it even faster."
Of course, they'd had explicit teachers. Yoshikage had memories of watching the anime and reading the manga, but that wasn't the same as instruction.
Still.
"The worst that happens is I waste some time learning advanced breathing exercises," he reasoned. "The best that happens is I gain a completely separate power system that synergizes with Killer Queen."
Because the thing was, Hamon and Stands could work together. Several characters in the series had used both—Joseph Joestar most notably, combining Hermit Purple with Hamon techniques for enhanced effects.
If Yoshikage could master Hamon, even partially, it would address several of his weaknesses. Hamon enhanced physical capabilities, slowed aging, could be conducted through objects for ranged attacks, and was effective against certain types of enemies that might resist Stand abilities.
And in a universe full of mutation Quirks, bio-engineering, and regeneration-based powers, having an ability that channeled "life energy equivalent to sunlight" could be incredibly useful.
The Nomu regenerated from almost anything, Yoshikage thought. But could it regenerate from having its cells destroyed by Hamon? Could Shigaraki's Decay work on someone whose body was constantly reinforced by Ripple energy?
Unknown variables. But worth investigating.
He pulled up every reference he could find, calling on his memories of Parts 1 and 2.
Hamon required specific breathing patterns—the "Ripple Breath." Deep, controlled inhalation and exhalation that oxygenated the blood and produced the energy.
It required physical conditioning—the technique put stress on the body, and weak practitioners would injure themselves trying to channel too much power.
It required practice and meditation—learning to feel and control the life energy, to circulate it through the body, to project it outward.
And it required, according to the source material, "the drive to protect what you love" or "a pure fighting spirit."
Yoshikage had neither love for this universe nor a particularly pure spirit.
But he had spite.
He hated this world, hated its systems, hated its casual cruelty and its narrative failures. If spite could fuel a Stand—and it absolutely could, given how many antagonists in JoJo were motivated by negative emotions—then it could fuel Hamon.
"Let's try this," he said, settling into a meditation pose.
He started with the breathing pattern he remembered from the anime. Deep breath in through the nose, filling the lungs completely. Hold for a moment. Slow exhale through the mouth, emptying the lungs.
Repeat.
And again.
And again.
For the first hour, nothing happened except mild lightheadedness from hyperventilation.
For the second hour, he adjusted the rhythm, slowing it down, focusing not just on breathing but on feeling the air moving through his body.
For the third hour, he was ready to give up and admit this was stupid.
Then he felt something.
It was subtle—barely there, probably his imagination—but there was a warmth spreading through his chest with each breath. A tingling in his fingertips. A sense of energy moving through his circulatory system.
"Holy shit," he whispered, breaking his breathing pattern in shock.
The sensation disappeared immediately.
"No, wait, come back—"
He resumed the breathing. Focused harder. Tried to recreate the feeling.
It took another thirty minutes, but there it was again. Warmth. Energy. Something that definitely wasn't normal human physiology.
It wasn't much. It probably wasn't even real Hamon yet, just the precursor, the beginning of learning to circulate life energy.
But it was something.
Yoshikage opened his eyes, looking at his hands. They looked normal. No golden glow, no visible energy.
But when he focused, really concentrated while maintaining the breathing, he could feel warmth in his palms.
"Killer Queen," he said, and the Stand manifested. "Touch my hand."
Killer Queen's finger made contact with his palm, and Yoshikage tried to push the warm energy—the maybe-Hamon—into the Stand.
Nothing happened.
He tried again, breathing deeper, focusing harder.
Killer Queen's form flickered slightly, its pink and white coloring becoming momentarily more vibrant.
"It works," Yoshikage said, amazed. "It actually works. Stands and Hamon can be combined in this universe."
It was weak. Incredibly weak, barely noticeable. It would probably take months or years to develop into anything combat-viable.
But it was possible.
And if it was possible, Yoshikage would make it happen.
Week 2: Killer Queen Experimentation
Physical training and Hamon practice became Yoshikage's morning and evening routine. But his afternoons were dedicated to something equally important: expanding Killer Queen's capabilities.
Because the thing about Stands was that they could evolve. They could develop new abilities in response to the user's needs, grow stronger through training and experience, sometimes even gain entirely new powers through crisis or determination.
The original Kira had unlocked Sheer Heart Attack through stress and Bites the Dust through being pierced by the Arrow in a moment of desperate need.
This Yoshikage had unlocked both abilities through sheer force of will and understanding of what he wanted Killer Queen to become.
So what else can I do?
He started with the primary bomb ability, trying to understand its limitations.
Killer Queen could turn objects into bombs—that was established. But what defined an object? What were the size limits? The complexity limits? Could he be more selective about what he turned into a bomb?
He tested systematically.
Small objects first. Coins, pebbles, paper clips. All successfully converted and detonated.
Larger objects. Books, chairs, sections of wall. Also successful, though he noted that larger objects seemed to take fractionally longer to charge, as if Killer Queen needed to "spread" the bomb effect through more mass.
Complex objects. A mechanical watch, disassembled into components. Each piece could be bombed individually. A computer, carefully targeted. Individual circuits became individual bombs.
"So it's not about complexity, it's about what I define as a discrete object," Yoshikage mused, taking notes. "If I think of a computer as one thing, the whole computer becomes a bomb. If I think of it as many components, I can bomb specific parts."
That had applications. Selective destruction of security systems, for example. Or creating bombs in very specific parts of a structure to cause controlled collapse.
He tested liquids next. A glass of water—Killer Queen touched the glass, and the glass became a bomb but the water didn't. Killer Queen touched the water directly, and... nothing. The water couldn't become a bomb.
"Interesting. Solids only? Or is it about maintaining structural integrity?"
He tried gel, putty, clay. The clay worked—it could become a bomb. Putty worked. Gel... sometimes worked, depending on viscosity.
"So it needs to maintain shape long enough for the bomb charge to stabilize," he concluded. "Purely liquid substances disperse too quickly."
But that gave him an idea.
What if he charged something before it became liquid?
He froze water into ice, charged the ice with Killer Queen, then let it melt.
The resulting water detonated when he triggered it, vaporizing the entire puddle.
"Delayed transformation," Yoshikage said, grinning. "Charge a solid, let it change state, bomb persists. That's useful."
Poison ice cubes. Explosive aerosols loaded into containers then released. Charged objects that could be melted down, reformed, and would still explode.
The applications were endless.
But he wanted more.
"Sheer Heart Attack is an autonomous bomb," he said, manifesting SHA on Killer Queen's hand. The miniature tank-Stand whirred quietly. "It seeks heat, detonates, and respawns. But can I make it smarter?"
He experimented for hours.
SHA's heat-seeking was automatic, instinctive. But could he give it more complex instructions?
He tried commanding it to ignore certain heat signatures. To seek the second hottest target instead of the first. To detonate at a specific time rather than on contact.
Most attempts failed. SHA was, fundamentally, a simple autonomous Stand. It had one job and it did that job very well.
But he did find some flexibility.
He could delay its deployment—charge it but not release it, keeping it "loaded" on Killer Queen's hand until needed.
He could set a maximum range—if a heat source was beyond a certain distance, SHA would ignore it and seek closer targets.
And, most interestingly, he could charge multiple objects with the SHA property before deploying it, creating what were essentially "SHA seeds" that would activate sequentially.
"Not full control," Yoshikage admitted. "But better than just pointing it in a direction and hoping."
Then came the real challenge: Bites the Dust modifications.
Week 3: Bites the Dust Evolution
Bites the Dust was Yoshikage's most complex and most powerful ability. It was also, currently, purely reactive.
Someone learned too much about his identity → bomb triggered → time reset one hour → they forgot.
It was perfect protection for his civilian identities. But it had limitations.
He couldn't control when it triggered—that was based on pre-set conditions.
He couldn't control how far back time rewound—it was always one hour.
He couldn't use it proactively—it only activated in response to his identity being compromised.
And while it was active, Killer Queen couldn't use its other abilities. The Stand was bound to the host carrying the bomb.
Can I change any of that?
This was dangerous experimentation. Bites the Dust affected the fundamental flow of time. Mistakes could have catastrophic consequences.
But Yoshikage was careful. Methodical. And he had one significant advantage: he already had Bites the Dust planted on Izuku Midoriya, which meant he could test modifications on an active deployment without creating a new one.
He started with the time rewind parameter.
Currently, Bites the Dust reset time by exactly one hour when triggered. But why one hour? Was that a hard limit, or just the default?
He focused on the bomb planted in Izuku, feeling its presence like a distant connection in the back of his mind. The trigger conditions were set. The time parameter was set.
Could he change the time parameter without removing the bomb?
He concentrated, reaching for that connection, trying to modify it.
The bomb resisted. Bites the Dust was designed to be stable, unchanging once planted.
He pushed harder, forcing his will into the modification.
Something shifted.
For just a moment, Yoshikage felt the time parameter become fluid, changeable. He could set it to thirty minutes. Two hours. Six hours.
Then the sensation vanished, and a spike of pain lanced through his head.
He gasped, Killer Queen flickering, and the connection to the bomb stabilized back to its original one-hour setting.
"Okay," he panted, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Okay. It's possible to change the time parameter, but it's difficult and painful. Noted."
He rested for an hour, then tried a different modification.
What if Bites the Dust could have multiple trigger conditions?
Currently, it was set to activate if anyone tried to learn about "Hikaru Saito" from Izuku. But what if it also activated under other conditions? What if he could add layers of protection?
He focused on the bomb again, this time trying to add rather than modify.
If Izuku is subjected to a truth-telling Quirk and asked about any of my identities, trigger.
If Izuku is threatened with death unless he reveals information about me, trigger.
If Izuku is actively investigated by hero agencies for connection to villain activities, trigger.
The conditions settled into place one by one, each requiring intense concentration but working smoother than the time modification had.
"Multiple triggers," Yoshikage confirmed, releasing his focus. "That works. I can layer protections, create a web of conditions that all lead to the same result."
But he wanted to push further.
The most ambitious modification: could Bites the Dust do more than just reset time?
In the original series, activating Bites the Dust had one function: rewind time by one hour and kill anyone who learned the secret.
But what if it could have additional effects?
What if, when the bomb triggered, it also teleported Yoshikage to safety?
What if it could rewind to a specific "save point" rather than a fixed time interval?
What if it could preserve memories in people other than Yoshikage?
These were bigger changes. More fundamental alterations to how the ability worked.
He spent three days just theorizing, working out the metaphysics of what he was trying to accomplish.
Bites the Dust was a bomb that affected time. It created a localized temporal loop, resetting events while preserving Yoshikage's consciousness. The mechanism was tied to fate manipulation—forcing events to "replay" until the trigger condition was removed.
Adding teleportation would mean creating a spatial component to a temporal ability. Possible, but complex.
Custom rewind points would mean storing temporal "snapshots" that could be returned to on demand. Also complex, but theoretically doable.
Selective memory preservation would mean choosing who retained awareness through the loop. Extremely difficult, possibly beyond his current capabilities.
He decided to start with the "easiest" option: teleportation.
The logic was sound. If Bites the Dust could reset Yoshikage's position in time, why couldn't it also reset his position in space?
He focused on the bomb in Izuku, visualizing a new parameter. When triggered, transport me to [safe location].
He defined "safe location" as his primary apartment, the one under his original Yoshikage Kira identity.
The modification resisted. Bites the Dust didn't want to accept spatial components.
Yoshikage pushed harder, drawing on his understanding of how Stands worked. They were manifestations of fighting spirit. They evolved based on user need. They could develop new abilities if the user believed strongly enough that they could.
I need this, he thought fiercely. I need to be able to escape danger when the bomb triggers. I need Bites the Dust to protect me physically, not just temporally.
Killer Queen manifested beside him, and Yoshikage felt the Stand's power surge.
The modification settled into place.
When triggered, rewind time one hour AND transport Yoshikage to designated safe location.
He immediately felt the strain. This was a much more complex version of Bites the Dust. It would consume more energy, would be harder to maintain, might even fail if he was too far from the safe location when it triggered.
But it was possible.
"Now to test it," Yoshikage muttered.
This was the risky part. To test whether the teleportation worked, he needed to actually trigger Bites the Dust.
Which meant having someone learn about "Hikaru Saito" from Izuku.
He could do it himself—go to Izuku, ask the right questions, trigger the bomb deliberately. But that would reveal to Izuku that something weird was happening, potentially compromising the whole setup.
Better to create a controlled trigger.
He hacked Izuku's email account—laughably easy, the boy's password was "AllMight123"—and sent a message from a fake hero agency address:
"Dear Midoriya, we're investigating the journalist who interviewed you last month. Please provide detailed description for our records. This is routine follow-up for civilian Quirk registration purposes."
Izuku would read it, start typing a response, and Bites the Dust would trigger.
Yoshikage positioned himself across town, in a public park, somewhere clearly distinct from his apartment.
Then he waited.
Twenty minutes later, reality lurched.
Time folded backward, space twisted, and Yoshikage felt himself being pulled through dimensions that his human mind couldn't properly process.
When his vision cleared, he was standing in his apartment, exactly where he'd designated as the safe location.
His phone showed the time: one hour earlier than when the bomb had triggered.
"It worked," he breathed. "Spatial and temporal displacement. Bites the Dust can now teleport me."
He immediately felt exhausted, a bone-deep weariness that suggested he'd expended significant energy. The modified Bites the Dust was much more taxing than the standard version.
But it worked.
And if he could add teleportation, he could potentially add other effects.
Custom rewind points would have to wait—that was even more complex, requiring essentially creating temporal anchors that persisted across loops.
But he filed it away for future development. If he could master Hamon, continue training Killer Queen, keep pushing the boundaries of what Bites the Dust could do...
He would become something this universe had never seen.
Not just a Stand user. Not just a villain.
An evolution.
Week 4: Integration and Synthesis
By the end of the first month of serious training, Yoshikage had established a routine:
5:00 AM - Wake up, Hamon breathing exercises (30 minutes)
5:30 AM - Strength training (bodyweight exercises, gradually adding resistance)
6:30 AM - Running/cardiovascular conditioning
7:30 AM - Breakfast, shower, prep for the day
8:00 AM - 4:00 PM - School/civilian activities (maintaining cover identities)
4:00 PM - 6:00 PM - Killer Queen experimentation and Stand training
6:00 PM - Dinner
7:00 PM - 9:00 PM - Combat training, flexibility work, Hamon practice
9:00 PM - 10:00 PM - Planning, intelligence review, meta-knowledge documentation
10:00 PM - Sleep
It was exhausting. His body hurt constantly from the unaccustomed exercise. His head ached from pushing Bites the Dust modifications. His concentration suffered from dividing his attention between so many different improvement vectors.
But he was making progress.
Physical changes were the most obvious. He'd gained three kilograms of muscle, lost body fat, could now do fifty push-ups without stopping. His running endurance had tripled. He still wasn't anywhere near peak human conditioning, but he was improving.
Hamon remained frustratingly slow. He could consistently produce the warm energy sensation now, could maintain the Ripple Breath for extended periods, could even channel tiny amounts of Hamon into objects.
But it wasn't combat viable yet. He'd tried conducting Hamon through a glass of water—the classic training exercise from Part 1—and had barely managed to make the surface ripple. An actual Hamon master could have made the water explode upward in a fountain.
"Months," he told himself firmly. "Jonathan trained for weeks with a master teacher and still struggled. I'm self-teaching from anime memories. Months of practice is reasonable."
Killer Queen's evolutions were more successful.
He'd catalogued seventeen different applications of the primary bomb ability, ranging from "charge individual components of complex machines" to "create delayed bombs in phase-changing materials."
Sheer Heart Attack could now be deployed with range limitations and basic target prioritization.
And Bites the Dust could teleport him to safety when triggered, though the energy cost was significant.
Progress, he thought, reviewing his training logs. Real, measurable progress.
But it wasn't enough.
Because while he'd been training, the world had continued moving. Canon events were proceeding. U.A. students were preparing for their sports festival. The League of Villains was regrouping after their U.S.J. failure. Hero Society was continuing its systematic oppression of the Quirkless and its worship of genetic superiority.
And Yoshikage was still just one person.
A well-trained person. A person with extraordinary abilities. But one person nonetheless.
I need to think bigger, he realized. Physical training is good. Expanding Killer Queen's capabilities is good. But if I'm really going to dismantle Hero Society, I need strategy. I need targets. I need a plan that goes beyond just being personally powerful.
He pulled out his master notebook—the one where he kept his long-term plans—and began writing.
Project: Systematic Dismantlement of Hero Society
Phase 1: Discredit (In Progress)
Expose corrupt heroes ✓Create doubt about hero system ✓Demonstrate villain competence (ongoing)
Phase 2: Disrupt (Next Steps)
Target Hero Public Safety Commission infrastructureSabotage hero rankings and public perceptionCreate incidents that expose systemic failures
Phase 3: Destroy (Future)
[Details to be determined based on Phase 2 results]
He stared at Phase 2, mind working.
The Hero Public Safety Commission was the obvious target. They were corrupt, controlling, manipulative. They used heroes as weapons and propaganda tools. They suppressed information, eliminated threats to the status quo, and operated with zero accountability.
Exposing them would shake Hero Society to its core.
But how?
He couldn't just release information—he'd tried that approach with individual heroes, and while it worked, it was slow and could be countered with PR campaigns and damage control.
He needed something bigger. More dramatic. Something that would be undeniable.
"What if," he said slowly, "I could make them expose themselves?"
Killer Queen manifested, listening.
"Create a situation where the HPSC has to choose between maintaining their cover and achieving their objectives," Yoshikage continued, working through the idea. "Force them to make decisions that reveal their true nature. Document everything. Then release it all at once, completely undeniable."
It would require infiltration. Intelligence gathering. Patience.
It would also require him to directly oppose one of the most powerful organizations in this world.
Good, he thought. I've been playing too safe. Time to take real risks.
But not yet. Not until he was ready.
He looked at his training schedule, at his progress logs, at his expanding capabilities.
"Three more months," he decided. "Three months of training. By then I should have functional Hamon, peak human physical conditioning, and fully developed Killer Queen applications. Then I move against the HPSC."
Killer Queen's eyes gleamed in agreement.
"Until then," Yoshikage continued, "I maintain my current operations. Keep exposing corrupt heroes. Keep monitoring the League of Villains. Keep Bakugo terrified. Keep Bites the Dust active on Midoriya."
He closed his notebook and stood, moving to the window of his apartment.
Outside, Musutafu sprawled in the darkness, lights twinkling, people living their lives, completely unaware that someone was preparing to tear down their entire society.
"This universe thinks it knows what villainy looks like," Yoshikage said quietly. "It thinks villains are emotional, reactive, stupid. That they make grand declarations and obvious moves and lose because heroes are 'just.'"
He smiled, and it was cold.
"I'm going to teach them differently. I'm going to show them what happens when someone intelligent decides to be a villain. When someone with power actually uses their brain. When someone has both the capability and the will to see things through to the end."
Killer Queen stood beside him, silent guardian, deadly partner.
"Three months of preparation," Yoshikage repeated. "Then we burn it all down."
He turned from the window and resumed his Hamon breathing exercises, feeling the warmth build in his chest.
Jonathan Joestar used Hamon to fight vampires and protect the innocent, he thought. Joseph Joestar used it to save the world from the Pillar Men.
I'm going to use it to destroy Hero Society.
How's that for a legacy?
Outside, the city slept, unaware.
And Yoshikage Kira trained, patient and determined, counting down to the day when he would stop preparing and start acting.
The arrogance of his early operations had been replaced with something more dangerous:
Competence.
And Hero Society had no idea what was coming.