Clark: Dio, I Don't Understand. (Please Keep Reading)

Steam from the hot bath still condensed on the bathroom mirror, slowly trickling down the glass.

After bathing with the two children, Locke entered the bedroom while drying his wet hair. He casually draped the towel over the back of a chair, then lay down on the bed as the mattress gave a faint creak. His left hand unconsciously rubbed the blue ladybug on his chest.

Outside the window, a full moon hung above the wheat fields. Cold moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting mottled shadows across the floor.

This was the only thing Giorno had left behind.

The cold metallic touch reminded him of tonight's bizarre battle, and of Wolverine, who claimed to be from another world.

"Mutants."

Locke murmured the word.

Logan's appearance had at least proven one thing—

The urban legends about mutants in this world were not mere rumors.

What Locke had not expected was that these people with X-genes had been "thrown" here as unwelcome visitors from another world.

"Does this count as tearing through the dimensional barrier?"

Staring at the cracks in the ceiling, Locke's thoughts swayed like the wheat outside the window.

Though Logan had not said it outright, anyone could have figured it out.

After ruling out that chatterbox who wore a red skintight suit all day, the one capable of this might have been...

A god?

Locke rolled over, and the bed springs protested.

Giorno's scattered words echoed in his mind again.

"Professor Charles."

"Anti-Injustice Society Republican Party."

Clearly,

Professor X had also been dragged into this farce across time and space. In the future, he had even become the spiritual leader of the resistance.

But what unsettled him most was the contradiction in the timeline.

He had originally been certain that Giorno came from a parallel universe. After all, the system had promised to send him several children.

But tonight's Kryptonite monster...

Taking a deep breath, Locke's fingers unconsciously clenched the bedsheet.

The timing and location of that metal killing machine's appearance had been far too precise.

If he had not discovered it in time, then based on what he knew of Jonathan and Martha—

Martha's blueberry pie should have just come out of the oven, still steaming.

She would surely wrap the iron baking tray in that napkin embroidered with sunflowers, while Jonathan started the tractor with a cheerful grin, grumbling, "Eating sweets this late at night."

Then, at some turn in the road...

A gigantic metallic shadow would suddenly appear beneath the moonlight.

Martha's scream would be swallowed by the rain, while Jonathan futilely used his body to shield his wife...

In the end, Wolverine, arriving too late, would put an end to it all.

"Damn it!"

Locke abruptly sat up, his curls damp with cold sweat.

The deduction felt too real, as if he had witnessed it with his own eyes.

Now, he finally understood what Giorno had meant by "Grandma Martha, whom I never got to meet."

In that future before it was changed, the Kents had indeed died tonight.

And if something had happened to them...

Then Dio and Clark...

He recalled what the system had said eight years ago.

[Ding~]

[Adoption successful.]

[Current adopted character: Dio Brando]

[Please help him grow up healthy in body, mind, morality, intellect, aesthetics, and labor, and forge a great cause.]

What would Dio turn into if he grew up crooked?

Would that still count as healthy growth according to his cheat?

Could that be why the system had crashed?

The night wind suddenly intensified, making the window tremble softly.

His fingertips touched the ladybug on his chest again, now as still as a dead object. The cool metal calmed Locke down.

No matter what, history had already changed.

The methods of that unknown existence Giorno had mentioned had failed.

Martha's blueberry pie was still safely sitting in the kitchen, and Jonathan would still complain about his aching back tomorrow morning.

From next door came the hushed sounds of Dio and Clark arguing. He could vaguely make out words like "ice cream flavors" and "how to trick Aunt Martha into buying a game console."

"Whew..."

Letting out a breath, Locke's taut nerves relaxed somewhat at the sound of such ordinary noise.

In the bedroom next door.

Dio sat cross-legged on the bed, his blond hair gleaming faintly beneath the moonlight.

With his arms arrogantly folded, his red eyes fixed on Clark in the opposite bed.

"Hey, Clark. You didn't do anything tonight, so tomorrow you should do my share of the work too, right?"

"Mm."

Clark rubbed his still-dizzy head. His blue eyes were especially bright in the darkness. "Okay."

But that ready answer left Dio speechless.

Was this still Clark?

He narrowed his eyes and added another condition. "And tomorrow, Aunt Martha's pancakes. Your share is mine too."

"No problem." Clark smiled.

Dio's eyebrow twitched.

He threw back the covers and jumped out of bed, his bare feet making a sound against the wooden floor.

"Then from now on, you give me your comic books first! And when there are classes I don't want to attend, you secretly ask for leave for me! And—"

"Anything is fine, Dio."

Clark's voice was soft, but it made Dio freeze on the spot.

Moonlight streamed through the gap in the curtains, revealing the faint redness around the Kryptonian boy's eyes.

"F."

Dio irritably raked a hand through his hair. "Clark! Am I your servant?!"

The room fell silent for several seconds.

Clark's earnest expression was clear in the moonlight. After some hesitation, he said, "It's not impossible?"

"Hey."

Dio seemed to laugh from sheer exasperation. Gritting his teeth, he lunged to Clark's bedside and grabbed the collar of his pajamas. "Listen! I'm not going to die now! I'm alive! Do you really have to care so much about what that person from the future said—"

His voice suddenly caught.

In the moonlight, Dio saw Clark pressing his lips together, his eyes full of reluctance to part.

"..."

Dio let go and dropped onto the bed.

The night wind lifted the curtains, carrying the rustling of the wheat fields into the room.

Clark secretly wiped his eyes, then suddenly whispered, "Dio... do you remember last winter?"

"Shut up."

Dio cut him off fiercely. "If you dare mention the time I fell into that ice hole again, I'll tell every kid in town the coordinates of your secret base."

That would be terrifying!

Thinking of his secret base being destroyed, Clark hurriedly covered his mouth tightly with his hand. A few stifled gasps still slipped through the gaps between his fingers.

Moonlight shone through the gap in the curtains, scattering tiny flecks of light across Clark's trembling eyelashes.

He hesitated for a long, long time. So long that Dio thought the subject had ended before he suddenly spoke.

"Dio, do you know what I was thinking back then?"

His voice was soft, as if afraid of disturbing the quiet of the night.

"Teacher told us to be careful around ponds outdoors. She said people could drown." Clark slowly lowered his hand. "I don't really understand why people drown. But I think I might know what death is."

"Dio, that squirrel we saw in spring."

"Do you remember it?"

"Back then..."

Clark's voice trembled slightly. "The little nest we made for it was clearly so warm, and we put in so many nuts..."

Staring at the strip of moonlight swaying across the floor, Dio remembered that morning after the snow.

The squirrel had frozen to death, and Clark had crouched in the snow and cried for an entire hour.

"Idiot." Dio's voice unconsciously softened. "I'm not a squirrel."