Joseph had never considered himself the sort to lament spring and mourn autumn. Charging ahead even when he knew it was impossible was his nature; naturally, he would never let some so-called will of heaven or destiny stand in his way.
Even knowing those things existed, even knowing the ending could not be changed, he would still plunge ahead without looking back. No-he simply refused to believe in that bullshit heavenly will, that bullshit destiny.
How could a mere will of heaven stop him, JoJo?!
If he were going to bow to fate, he might as well have joined everyone else as one of Kars's little bread rolls back then.
Pillar Men? Vampires? Who cared? They could all just let themselves get sucked dry together.
Whether it worked or not, he would do it first and worry later. That was his ninja way... ahem, wrong show. That was his guiding principle.
Still, what Don Quixote had just said had struck a chord. They had already returned to the past and were about to correct its course. What was the point of talking about destiny now?
And barring any surprises, destiny would certainly throw plenty of obstacles in the way of this rewind. The accidents Don Quixote had mentioned were probably its handiwork.
This time, he, Joseph Joestar, was going to have a proper arm-wrestling match with fate.
At that thought, Joseph straightened his slightly stooped back, brimming once more with the high spirits of his youth.
But he also wanted to complain a little. Why had this guy started spouting a load of bizarre, mystical nonsense the moment he showed up?
They had returned to the past. Didn't that prove heaven's will could be defied? He was taking it perfectly well, thank you very much. Why was this guy still