At the Pakistan border, on the road to Egypt.
"Seriously, fate really set us up, didn't it? How come we haven't dodged a single thing we were supposed to avoid?"
Fiddling with Anubis in his hands, Jean Pierre Polnareff felt rather depressed.
"Blame the old bastard. His Stand must be a vehicle killer, right?"
Ahead of Jean Pierre Polnareff, the wheelchair rolled at top speed despite nobody pushing it, and Don Quixote grumbled.
Goddammit, ever since they had left Japan, whether they took a plane or a ship, every crash and every attack that was supposed to happen had happened.
Even with him there, they hadn't escaped the original course of events. The plane had still crashed.
It hadn't even been hit, yet it had happened to suffer a mechanical failure.
Goddammit, Heaven's Will had flexed its muscles.
Fate had made it clear that it didn't want them flying straight to Egypt. They still had to make their way there overland.
"How is that my fault? Since when am I a vehicle killer?"
With both hands behind his head, the youthful Joseph, restored to his prime, snorted.
"Besides, we're making pretty good time, and we don't have to worry about DIO pulling any more tricks. On a plane, I really would be worried about them trying something underhanded."
Hermit Purple, coiled around his arms, glowed faintly as Joseph closed his eyes and activated Spirit Photography.
He had to admit, being young again was wonderful!
Honestly, he could understand a little of why Straizo had chosen to put on the Stone Mask and become a Zombie.
Even someone like him, who could accept birth, aging, sickness, and death, felt some attachment to his youth. How much more so would others?
As time passed, it was impossible not to miss being young.