This Is a Trial

By now, night had fallen. The dimly lit arena was silent, save for the chirping of insects in the corners.

Just before entering the arena, Dawn set Bucciarati down and propped him against a Roman column so he could rest.

Then he said gently, "Bucciarati, your body can't take much more. I'll handle things from here."

Bucciarati opened his dull eyes and listened carefully, his ears straining. Then he nodded and said with difficulty, "Please do, Mr. Dawn."

He closed his eyes, hoping Dawn would bring back good news.

His exhausted body was nearly crushing his spirit. If he hadn't been hanging on by a thread, Bucciarati would have died long ago.

Dawn nodded, then rose and headed for the arena entrance, his figure gradually disappearing into the darkness.

Before long, another set of hurried footsteps sounded.

Tobio cautiously peered out and glanced at Bucciarati. He had no desire to get too involved with his former comrade.

The man was clearly in bad shape and posed little threat to him.

His heartbeat was practically nonexistent, and his breathing was barely audible. He was hardly any different from a corpse.

Nothing to worry about.

Tobio had no intention of attacking. He just wanted to get into the arena as quickly as possible and find Dawn.

The traitors' objective was perfectly clear. It seemed the Boss's deduction had been right after all.

There had to be some crucial object—or something else—inside the arena that mattered so much to them.

"Trish?"

Bucciarati suddenly turned his head, his dull eyes fixed on Tobio.

Tobio jolted and instinctively took a fighting stance. He reflexively pulled out a throwing knife, almost attacking on the spot.

Even though he'd seen plenty of Stand Users, he'd never seen someone who looked like a corpse still able to speak.

Brrring, brrring—

Brrring, brrring—

Tobio made strange ringing noises as he frantically searched the ground for a phone.

Then he spotted the cigarette butt that Dawn had tossed aside and picked it up like a precious treasure.

Tobio pretended to answer a call, and the next moment, Diavolo's low voice came through.

"Tobio, Bucciarati in front of you is a corpse now."

Tobio fought the urge to roll his eyes, but replied respectfully, "Boss, what should I do?"

"Listen to me first, Tobio."

Diavolo continued, "Bucciarati can't see what you look like. He can only see the state of your soul, which is why he mistook you for Trish.

"Next, you're going to enter the arena with him. Adapt to the situation as it unfolds."

Tobio readily agreed, then hung up with a serious expression.

He slipped the cigarette butt into his pocket and looked at Bucciarati before bending down to help him up.

The moment he touched him, he felt a chill. There was even a faint smell of a corpse.

"Bucciarati, why are you here alone?"

Tobio asked in a low voice.

Bucciarati struggled to make out what Tobio was saying.

His hearing was almost completely gone. He could only barely catch the gist.

"Trish... I have a little house outside Naples."

Bucciarati's body was cold, but his words remained warm.

"When everything is over, if you really have nowhere to go, you can live there."

Tobio blinked once and showed no expression as he focused on watching where they were going.

Bucciarati continued to mutter, as if leaving his last words. Tobio fell silent.

"We're here, Bucciarati."

Supporting Bucciarati, Tobio carefully surveyed the dim surroundings, wary of any unknown danger.

"Stop."

An unfamiliar voice rang out, making both of them tense.

Tobio was worried his identity would be exposed; Bucciarati was worried about Dawn's safety.

"If you take even one more step up, our agreement is off."

Polnareff's hoarse voice rang out. Looking down at them from above, he slowly asked, "Bucciarati, who's with you?"

Bucciarati struggled to make out the question. After a long pause, he replied, "Trish? Her name is Trish. She isn't part of the organization, so it's only natural you don't know her."

Polnareff's gaze grew serious. To be safe, he continued questioning them.

"Trish? That sounds like a woman's name."

Tobio broke into a cold sweat. He hurriedly pulled the cigarette butt from his pocket and quietly called out to the Boss.

"This is bad, Boss. He's going to see through us. Should I attack?"

Diavolo instructed him in a low voice, "Don't panic, Tobio. Listen to me. Here's what you do..."

After listening, Tobio's eyes widened. He stared at the cigarette butt in his hand, shock mixed with embarrassment.

Thinking of what would happen if the mission failed, Tobio gritted his teeth. With his back to Polnareff, he gave a slight wiggle and shouted in a high-pitched voice, "What's wrong with a name that sounds like a woman's?!"

Polnareff paused, then slowly spoke.

"No, nothing."

Tobio was just about to relax when Polnareff's next words made him tense up again.

"Release your Stand. I want to check."

Hidden from view, Diavolo genuinely panicked. He took over Tobio's body and seized control. His eyes flashed red as he turned his head toward the figure on the platform above.

"You... feel strangely familiar to me."

Diavolo's voice was grim, revealing an uncontrollable murderous intent.

He had quickly eliminated nearly everyone who had investigated him. The only one who'd given him trouble was the silver-haired man.

That man had been far too cautious.

Even on the verge of death, he'd refused to use his Stand ability, leaving Diavolo unbearably frustrated.

Diavolo had once suspected that he had a Requiem-type Stand, but in the end, he had still dealt with him successfully.

Now this other fellow, hiding his face and identity, was just as cautious as the silver-haired man—and it made Diavolo sick.

Polnareff sensed the familiar murderous aura and grew solemn, a troubling suspicion forming in his mind.

"That killing intent... it makes me feel as if my heart's been torn out. Such a familiar feeling. You're..."

Diavolo released Bucciarati without expression, letting him fall, then started slowly up the steps.

"What a strange twist of fate. I never thought you could survive that."

Crimson flames of light flared around Diavolo as his eyes locked onto Polnareff.

Stand: King Crimson

Activate!

At that moment, time seemed to be erased by some inexplicable force. Space shattered, and everyone moved along their predetermined paths.

Only Diavolo continued to climb the steps, one at a time, murmuring to himself.

"This is a trial."

Diavolo's voice shifted from youthful to steady. As he passed a supporting pillar, he slowly took off his shirt, his gaze fixed on Polnareff.

"I've accepted the trial of overcoming my past."

"To grow as a person, you have to overcome the immature version of yourself you used to be."

"That's true of you too, isn't it, Jean Pierre Polnareff?"