Holly's voice drifted in from the hallway.
Swish.
In that single instant, the hundred Black Sperm liquefied. Like spilled ink obeying gravity, they flowed back under the soles of Shintaro's feet and vanished without a trace — all but one.
One black figure stood frozen on the kitchen counter, holding a plate polished to a mirror shine, having just finished wiping it and not made it back in time.
Shintaro moved without thinking. He grabbed the plate with one hand and simultaneously scooped the tiny black figure with the other, squeezing it flat against his palm and tucking it behind his back.
He turned around, smile already arranged and only slightly stiff.
Holly peeked into the kitchen. Her eyes traveled across the neat stacks of clean plates on the counter, and her mouth fell open.
"Oh my! You finished already?" She covered her lips. "And they're all so shiny!"
Inside Shintaro's clenched fist, the trapped Black Sperm couldn't move its body — but its voice still echoed in his head with full smug authority.
"Hmph. This is the dishwashing technique of a Dragon-level executive. Accept it with appropriate gratitude, brat."
Shintaro quietly loosened his grip.
The little black figure slipped free, its head flattened to something roughly the shape of a rice cracker. It rubbed itself back into form with exaggerated grievance, made a face at Shintaro with what dignity it could assemble, and dove back into his shadow like a drop of ink hitting dark water.
Since Holly already knew about Stands, being overly secretive around her would only feel strange and create distance. Shintaro shook the water from his hands and scratched the back of his head.
"They're actually quite efficient," he admitted, a little sheepish. "They're just... very talkative. And their faces are deeply punchable."
He dropped his voice and leaned in slightly.
"Aunt Holly — please don't mention this to Jotaro. He really dislikes those swarming little things. If he knew I'd let a hundred of them loose in the kitchen, he'd probably give me that dark look and say 'yare yare' for the rest of the evening."
Holly burst into a soft, genuine giggle.
She took a hand towel and pressed it gently over Shintaro's wet hands to dry them, her expression warm and unhurried.
"Don't worry," she said. "This stays between us." Then her gaze drifted toward the living room, and something thoughtful and fond settled into it. "But Shintaro — don't let Jotaro's expression or his blunt way of talking fool you. That child is gentler than anyone."
She smiled faintly, the way a person smiles when they're telling you something true that the person in question would actively deny.
"He's the type who wraps himself in coldness precisely because he's too kind. He doesn't want people to get close enough to be hurt by him."
Shintaro nodded.
He knew. He knew it better than he could explain without giving himself away completely. The man who would cross an ocean for his mother — who would later give everything for his daughter — was, underneath every bit of the armor, the most devastatingly gentle person in the room.
"Go rest in the living room," Holly said, already turning back to the kitchen. "I'll handle the rest."
The Japanese-style living room was quiet and orderly.
A large world map lay spread across the low table, several locations circled in red ink. Avdol studied it intently, cross-referencing dates and routes. Jotaro had settled on the far side of the room with a marine life encyclopedia, his gaze lingering for an unusually long time on a page about dolphins, as if they owed him something. Joseph sat cross-legged in the corner, fiddling with an expensive-looking Walkman with the focused expression of a man who understood neither its settings nor its music.
Shintaro walked in and sat down across from Joseph.
"Mr. Joestar," he said calmly, "I have a request."
Joseph raised an eyebrow. "Want to hear more about my heroic past?"
"No," Shintaro said immediately. "But it's precisely because I heard about it that I want to ask you to teach me." He met the old man's eyes. "That golden lightning you use. Hamon."
The room went quiet.
Even Jotaro lifted his eyes from the dolphins and glanced across.
Joseph froze, sunglasses sliding halfway down his nose. "...You mean Hamon?"
"Yes." Shintaro leaned forward, his tone level and sincere. "My Stand has strength in numbers, but it's still fundamentally a physical ability. Against a Vampire like DIO — or anything that attacks through the mind — I likely couldn't protect myself. But Hamon generates energy that functions like sunlight. It would cover exactly the weaknesses I have."
Joseph stared at him for a long moment.
Then he laughed — the kind of laugh that came from genuine surprise.
"Hahahaha! Good! Excellent!" He slapped his thigh and rose to his feet, eyes bright. "You may have amnesia, kid, but your judgment is terrifyingly sharp."
He straightened proudly. "Hamon — also called Sendo — is the energy of life itself. But I'll warn you now: it's exceptionally difficult to learn."
"I'm willing to try," Shintaro said without hesitation.
Joseph turned with theatrical enthusiasm toward the others, unable to resist an audience.
"Hey! Jotaro! Avdol! Why don't you join in? Hamon slows aging and lets you walk on water — it's a rare chance!"
Jotaro turned a page without looking up. "Not interested. Keep your ancient deep-breathing technique and the bizarre poses that go with it."
Avdol shook his head politely. "I appreciate the offer. But I'm accustomed to fighting alongside Magician's Red, and Hamon requires long-term practice. With our timeline, I don't think there's enough of it."
"You two have absolutely no eye for quality!" Joseph said with wounded indignation.
"Listen — our enemy is DIO. A Vampire. Do you know what Vampires fear above everything else? Sunlight. And Hamon is sunlight. Even if your Stand fails, one Hamon-infused punch reduces him to ash."
"Yakamashi, Old Man."
Jotaro closed the encyclopedia, stood, and the room seemed to rearrange itself slightly around his height. His confidence wasn't performed — it was simply structural, like load-bearing walls.
"As long as Star Platinum destroys that man before he can regenerate," Jotaro said flatly, "Hamon is unnecessary." He adjusted his hat and turned toward the courtyard. "I'm going to the bathroom."
"I'll check the perimeter," Avdol said, following him out.
Joseph watched them go, stomped one foot with feeling, and turned back to Shintaro.
His mood recovered in seconds. At least one person here had sense.
"Alright, Shintaro." Joseph settled into a cross-legged position, his expression sharpening into something older and more serious than his usual bravado — a glimpse of the warrior who had fought Ultimate Lifeforms fifty years ago. "Since those two won't learn, I'll pass down the Joestar Family's secret technique to you. Three generations of accumulated wisdom."
He coughed lightly.
"Technically three generations, yes. The point stands."
"Time is short," he continued, "so we're using a Spartan-style crash course. I'll drill the basics of Hamon into you until they stick."
Shintaro felt something straighten in his chest. He had gambled right.
In this era of Stands, Hamon was overlooked, underestimated — but its physical enhancement properties, its healing potential, and above all its specific and absolute lethality against Vampires made it irreplaceable. No one had thought to pair it with what Shintaro was building.
"Please guide me, Master," Shintaro said, and bowed.
Joseph extended one finger and jabbed it precisely into Shintaro's diaphragm.
"First — control your breathing! Not with your lungs — with your blood! Feel the vibration originating from the diaphragm!"
"Yes!"
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