"Which brings us to the question: where's Jotaro?"
After they decided that their immediate priority was to bail Jotaro out, Jean Pierre Polnareff raised a question that cut straight to the soul.
The world had undergone such enormous changes, and several Stand Users had already come here to assassinate them. So the question was, where exactly was Jotaro?
"Excellent question."
Avdol's mouth twitched. He had no answer either.
In theory, Jotaro should have been in jail right now. Suspecting that an evil spirit had possessed him, he had voluntarily locked himself up.
But now... searching his own heart and putting himself in Jotaro's shoes, Avdol's mind was in complete turmoil. This second chance at life was utterly beyond his comprehension.
He had been on his way to heaven, only to be forcibly dragged back by a reversal of time.
And his memories had been preserved!
Thinking back now, what had wrapped around his waist during the rewind must have been Hermit Purple...
Avdol glanced at Joseph, then shook his head again. It had been Hermit Purple, but clearly not Joseph's Hermit Purple. It had been the work of Polnareff's Stand, that fellow who called himself Don Quixote.
Heaven knew what was going on with Don Quixote. In Avdol's memories, Polnareff's Stand had no special abilities at all. The only tricks he had ever used, shedding his armor and creating doubles, had been shelved after their first fight. How had he suddenly awakened over the years and stirred up such an enormous commotion?
This ability was underhanded beyond all bounds.
Was this what they called extremes giving rise to their opposites?
"Old man, what do you think?"
The moment Don Quixote spoke, the other two turned their gazes toward Joseph.
Credit where credit was due: this fellow really was the team's