Yoshikage Kira was feeling distinctly troubled.
In his view, Soft & Wet was a formidable Stand. If he himself had been the one wielding it, he could have killed Josuke Higashikata and seized Inori's beautiful hands in a single stroke. But the Stand user had been hopelessly dim... He'd spelled out, in plain terms, how to counter Time Erasure and Epitaph—and still the idiot had lost that badly.
Damn it. I went through all that trouble to produce a Stand user Inori wouldn't know about, and it still ended in failure.
But—no matter.
Beating that woman wouldn't be the work of a single day. He still had plenty of chances ahead, because he had the invincible Bites the Dust at his disposal. He, Yoshikage Kira, would never again be driven into the kind of crushing corner he'd suffered before.
With his mind heavy, Kira walked on, pausing by the Kameyu Department Store to look it over for a while.
This had been the place he'd once worked—his favorite job in the world... sadly, that was no longer an option. He couldn't show up for normal work anymore.
All I, Yoshikage Kira, ever wanted was to live a peaceful, ordinary life. And somehow I've been backed into this corner—by a woman.
Jotaro Kujo is another dangerous one.
Seeing the two of them come to blows had delighted him. He'd assumed he could just wait for them to wear each other down, then step in and collect the spoils. But instead their fight had stopped short of any real conclusion, and—worse—the two of them had forged a connection even faster than before. Not good. That girl's King Crimson alone was trouble enough to handle. Throw in Jotaro Kujo, who could stop time outright...
A flood of painful memories flashed through Kira's mind in an instant.
Crack.
A strange sensation ran through his fingertip. Kira glanced down. Before his eyes, the nail was growing visibly longer.
Even if I can't deal with the biggest nuisance—Inori herself—I can still target Jotaro Kujo, or Josuke Higashikata. Chip away, gradually, at the forces gathered around her. So long as I stay patient... heh, that pretty hand will end up in my palm sooner or later.
The truth was, Kira didn't need Inori's hand in particular. The reason he went to such lengths to plot against her was, mainly... Inori knew his identity and Killer Queen's ability. She even knew the abilities of every Stand user in this town. Sooner or later, she was going to come for him.
The beautiful hands were secondary. As long as that woman called Inori remained alive, Yoshikage Kira would never know a quiet life again.
Of course, if she died and he happened to claim the hand at the same time—that would be the most satisfying outcome of all. He would reclaim everything he'd lost.
...
...
"Hehe, three hundred thousand, three hundred thousand~"
A thick stack of bills sitting in her pocket made her feel secure and comfortable, and this money was from Jotaro, which meant zero guilt. Inori was so happy she could barely stop herself from bursting into song.
Her pocket was practically bursting. Before long she spotted a handbag shop and, without a second thought, picked out whichever bag caught her eye first—from the sort of unshowy brand name most people wouldn't recognize, but with superb quality and understated elegance. The price, of course, was not low either.
Dropping ten thousand yen in one go stung a little, but then again, she didn't really have that many things to spend money on. Next up was a few pieces of clothing, some cosmetics, maybe some treats to satisfy a craving. Three hundred thousand yen would go a long way~
The real reason she'd bought a nice bag, though, wasn't just to hold the cash. The main purpose was storage for her various Stand Orbs.
Inori planned to head back to Budogaoka High School around dismissal time and drag Yasuho along to buy clothes. Their tastes probably didn't line up all that well, but shopping with another girl was still better than going alone—and on a personal level, she wanted to build a good rapport with Yasuho too.
Hmm-hmm, Little Inori really is such a flirt~
It was the first thing Mana had said to her all day.
Knowing next to nothing about this world, Mana Ouma found these tactical Stand battles fascinating. Inori's duel with Jotaro—two time-based Stands clashing—had really broadened her horizons. She'd picked up all sorts of strange knowledge out of it.
"What are you talking about?"
Inori stopped walking and muttered back irritably, eyes raised at nothing.
Ahh? You seem entirely unaware of how much of a flirt you are. You were calling out Hare Menjou's name in your dreams as recently as last night.
"...It's not like that."
Then what is it like, Little Inori? I know you don't care much for boys, but it's hard to survive in this world all alone, you know. Have you really never once liked someone for real?
"Maybe I really never have."
Inori stood at the edge of the bustling street, mocking herself under her breath.
Living and dying for someone's sake—pinning all of your feelings onto another person—was a very foolish way to be. That was what she believed. Hare Menjou had rescued her when she was at her lowest, and so she wanted to protect Hare in her own way and let her live more happily. That was... all.
Talk of love and romance—it's too tacky. It doesn't really suit me. My goal is to stand forever at the peak. All I want is to build good relationships with the people I respect, whether men or women... Ahh! How annoying! If you don't know what to say, don't say anything! You keep bringing up topics I'm not good at!
"I don't even know where the end of the universe is. How on earth am I supposed to know who I love?"
Inori tossed the line out with a sigh of impatience—and suddenly felt something off, as though someone had dropped a stray rest note into the middle of the perfect score she'd been composing.
She broke off the conversation with Mana and lifted her gaze.
A few steps ahead stood a slender, handsome man, clutching a sketchpad, posed with an enviably narrow waist. He wore a strange white midriff-baring coat, a pale blue headband across his forehead, and hair so thoroughly fixed with strong gel that it sat on his head like a hat.
"...Were you talking to thin air? From what I heard, it sounded like the musings of someone who enjoys spreading herself around."
His face was blank as he stared at her, voice quiet and cool.
Inori's feelings ran in a dozen directions at once. She didn't understand why her luck had to be this bizarre. First two Joestars, and now Rohan Kishibe—the mangaka some people called "Araki's alt account." How small could this world possibly get?
"What business is it of yours?"
Inori knew he'd misread her line.
And to be fair, if the average person suddenly overheard a girl saying something like that, they'd likely assume exactly that—that she was juggling multiple men, a power strip with delusions of servicing many plugs at once, some flirty two-timer stringing along a crowd of admirers. With a face as pretty as hers, it was even easier to jump to the worst conclusion.
But an average person would at least just grumble about it internally. This was Rohan Kishibe. He was not an average person.
"A cute girl like you—once I've seen your face, I don't forget it. Have you just recently come to Morioh, little miss?"
Rohan started toward Inori, interest blooming slowly in his eyes.
"My name is Rohan Kishibe. I'm a mangaka. I'm currently out gathering material."
He straightened his posture and introduced himself with solemn dignity.
Damn it—another weird Stand user has latched onto me.