I Am Dio, and I've Gone Dark!

The Windmill.

Dio curled up in a corner of the loft at the very top of the mill.

He had secretly arranged this place in imitation of Clark. It was a "secret base" known only to him.

A few books worn ragged from reading, a flashlight, several moldy biscuits, and walls covered in charcoal graffiti.

Well.

Most of it was chibi drawings of Clark, with words like "idiot" and "moron" written beside them.

The boy hugged his knees, his messy blond hair hanging over his eyes.

As the star-shaped birthmark on his shoulder sent out a burning pain, his fingers trembled uncontrollably.

That violent power, that name which seemed engraved deep in his memories.

The name he had called out naturally.

Dio recalled the stunned look on Clark's face as he was blasted away.

Honestly, it felt great!

Though he had only wanted to make that guy who was always putting on the face of a good man suffer a little, when his fist had truly landed on Clark—

"Damn it!"

Stone chips scattered as his knuckles scraped open and began to bleed.

But that pain was nothing compared to the turmoil in his heart.

What frightened him most was not the power he had lost control of, but Locke's expression back then. The shock. The disappointment.

"Dad must think I'm a monster."

Dio buried his face in the crook of his arms, his throat tightening.

He remembered Clark's confused eyes, and how he had neither dodged nor defended himself.

Yeah.

With Clark's reflexes, how could he possibly have failed to dodge that attack?

That could only mean he couldn't see it.

The world was something only monsters like him could see...

He thought of Locke's patient voice while teaching him to read over the past eight years, of those rough yet warm hands whenever he was sick, of how Locke had ruffled his hair that morning and praised his physics homework.

And now, everything was ruined!

Everything had been ruined by him...

"Creak—!"

The windmill's old blades turned with a squeal in the wind, casting shifting shadows.

Was there something outside?

Dio's body instantly tensed in fright.

"The World!"

He shouted, and the air behind him began to warp again—

A golden figure immediately appeared at his side, watching over him like a guardian spirit.

But—

No one was there.

Dio went limp.

Relief washed over him, along with a deep sense of disappointment. How he wished Locke had come to punish him. Even if Clark had brought Uncle Jonathan to teach him a lesson, that would have been fine!

Sure enough...

He, Dio, was the least needed person in this family.

He was neither as capable as Clark, nor could he cook as well as Aunt Martha. He didn't understand machine repair like Uncle Jonathan, and he certainly couldn't manage the farm as neatly as his father.

"Bastards! You're all bastards!"

"I'm going to become a great villain!"

Eight-year-old Dio began his descent into darkness!

"Muda!"

He shouted the word he had learned from Vampire Hunter D.

Dio controlled The World and began to—

Grind flour!

"Muda muda muda!"

"Muda muda muda—!!"

His childish shouts echoed through the abandoned mill as the golden phantom wildly swung its fists at his command.

"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Under The World's savage barrage, the millstone, which normally relied on wind power to turn, began spinning on its own!

Flour dust burst forth like snow, dyeing the entire space a deathly white.

"Cough, cough cough."

Dio choked until tears streamed down his face, yet his smile only grew wider.

He stood in the center of the flour storm, his blond hair and shirt turned flour-white, looking like a sunny-day doll that had crawled out of a flour barrel.

"Not enough! Still not enough!"

He leaped onto the millstone and commanded The World to punch the driveshaft.

Amid the shriek of twisting metal, the millstone spun wildly, letting out a dying roar!

"Hahahaha!"

"Wryyyyy!"

Standing on the violently shaking millstone, Dio spread his arms to keep his balance.

Flour erupted from the cracks like a volcanic explosion, completely burying him.

At that moment, he was no longer the good child who needed to pretend, no longer the younger brother jealous of Clark!

He was Dio, a one-of-a-kind existence capable of wielding mysterious power!

"Muda muda muda muda muda—!!!"

"Boom!"

At last, with one final heavy punch, the long-neglected windmill could no longer bear the strain.

With an earth-shaking crack, the entire millstone mechanism collapsed, kicking up a wave of flour several yards high.

When the dust settled, Dio sat atop the rubble, bright red eyes peering out beneath his golden bangs.

He panted heavily and looked at his flour-covered hands, only to suddenly discover—

The star-shaped birthmark on his shoulder had stopped burning at some point.

". Hmph."

Pursing his lips, Dio was about to climb out of the rubble.

He really was awful, using this kind of method to get back at his father.

Did bad children not get into heaven?

Dio felt a little dejected and wondered whether he should apologize to Clark first.

But...

"Sigh."

The sudden sigh made Dio's entire body stiffen. Looking up, he saw a familiar figure who had somehow climbed onto the broken beam at the top of the mill. He was looking down at him, still holding that copy of Basic Physics.

The two stared at each other through the drifting curtain of flour snow.

Silence.

A long silence.

Finally, Locke wiped the flour from his face and said faintly:

". At least we won't have to buy flour tonight."

Dio froze for two seconds, then suddenly snorted with laughter.

There was no pretense in that smile, no calculation. It was simply the smile of an eight-year-old boy whose prank had succeeded.

But as he laughed, his eyes suddenly reddened.

"We need to talk."

At those words, Dio felt as if something had lodged in his throat.

He wanted to say "Go away," wanted to say "Leave me alone," even wanted to summon that golden monster again and drive him away.

But in the end, the eight-year-old boy merely bit down hard on his lip and nodded.

"Before that," Locke said, slowly crouching down until he was level with Dio, "let's figure out what that yellow thing is first."

"Haha." Dio gave a helpless laugh. "As you can see, my dear father."

His voice was as light as a feather.

"Clark and I are both not ordinary children."

How could I not know you weren't an ordinary child?

"Dio, have you ever wondered why I knew it was yellow?"

Why else? Obviously because The World looked yellow—

"?"

Dio froze. "Dad... you?"

"Yes, child." Locke smiled helplessly and said softly, "Star Platinum!"

"This is a Stand, and we..."

"Are Stand users."

Dio's pupils constricted.

He stared fixedly at the purple figure appearing behind Locke.

That outline, those muscular lines, even the sharp markings at the corners of its eyes—aside from its color and hair—

It looked remarkably similar to his own "The World"!

"That's impossible!"

Dio instinctively summoned his own Stand.

The two giants faced each other across the distance, radiating identical waves of energy in the dim mill.

Flour continued to drift slowly through the air, settling on Dio's trembling eyelashes.

His voice cracked with excitement. "So I really am your—"

That word caught in his throat.

Every question about his origins over the past eight years, every confusion over his blond hair and red eyes, had now become burning anticipation.

They even had exactly the same ability.

What could that big idiot Clark use to compete with me now?

Seeing the frightening brightness in Dio's red eyes, Locke gave a bitter smile and reached out to brush the flour from the ends of his hair.

"Though I'd like to say yes."

He paused, then suddenly tapped Dio's forehead with his knuckles.

"But I can't lie to you."

"Dio."