The windmill.
Dio was curled up in a corner of the top mezzanine.
This was a “secret base” he had secretly set up, imitating Clark, known only to himself.
A few well-thumbed books, a flashlight, a few moldy crackers, and charcoal graffiti covering the walls.
Mhm…
Most of it consisted of chibi doodles of Clark, annotated with words like “idiot” and “moron.”
The boy hugged his knees, his messy blond hair falling over his eyes.
As the star-shaped birthmark on his shoulder burned with pain, his fingers trembled uncontrollably.
That violent power, like something carved deep into his memories…
The name he had called out as naturally as breathing…
Dio recalled the shocked look on Clark’s face when he was blasted away.
Honestly, it felt great!
Even though he had only wanted to teach that guy—who always wore a Mr.
Nice Guy mask—a lesson, when his fist actually landed on Clark—
“Damn it!”
Stone chips flew as his knuckles scraped raw, oozing threads of blood.
But this tiny bit of pain was nothing compared to the chaos in his heart.
What terrified him most wasn’t his out-of-control ability, but Rock’s eyes at that moment—that shock, that disappointment…
“Dad must think I’m a monster…”
Dio buried his face in his arms, his throat tightening.
He remembered Clark’s bewildered eyes and how he hadn’t even tried to dodge.
Right…
With Clark’s reaction speed, how could he possibly fail to dodge?
That could only mean he couldn’t see it.
The World was an existence only a monster like him could see…
He remembered Rock’s patient voice teaching him to read over the past eight years, the rough yet warm hands every time he got sick, and how Rock had laughingly ruffled his hair just this morning, praising him for doing so well on his physics homework.
And now, everything was ruined!
Everything had been ruined by him…
*Crack—!*
The old blades of the windmill creaked in the wind, casting shifting shadows.
Was there movement outside?
The thought immediately made Dio tense up.
“The World!”
He cried out, and the air behind him began to warp once more—
A golden-yellow figure manifested beside him instantly, watching over him like a guardian deity.
But…
No one was there.
Dio slumped, his body going soft.
Relief washed over him, mixed with a deep sense of disappointment.
How he wished Rock had come to hold him accountable, or even that Clark had brought Uncle Jonathan to teach him a lesson!
Sure enough…
He, Dio, was the most unwanted presence in this family.
He wasn’t as capable as Clark, nor could he cook like Aunt Martha, nor did he know mechanical repairs like Uncle Jonathan, let alone manage the farm as efficiently as Dad…
“Bastards!
All of them!”
“I’m going to become a supervillain!”
Eight-year-old Dio was turning to the dark side!
“Muda!”
Shouting the word he had learned from *Vampire Hunter D*, Dio controlled The World to begin…
Grinding flour!
“Muda muda muda!”
“Muda muda muda—!!”
The childish yells echoed in the abandoned mill as the golden ghost frantically swung its fists under his command.
*BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!*
Under the violent barrage from The World, the millstone—which originally relied on wind power—began to spin directly!
Flour spewed out like snowflakes, dyeing the entire space a stark white.
“Cough, cough-cough…”
Dio choked as tears poured from his eyes, but his laughter grew even wilder.
He stood in the center of the flour storm, his blond hair and shirt dusted pure white, looking just like a paper sun-charm pulled from a flour bin.
“Not enough!
Still not enough!”
Leaping onto the millstone, he commanded The World to hurl a fist into the drive shaft.
Amid the shrieks of twisting metal, the millstone spun wildly, roaring like a dying beast!
“Hahaha!”
“Wryyyyy!”
Standing on the violently vibrating millstone, Dio threw his arms out to keep his balance.
Flour erupted from the crevices like a volcano, swallowing him whole.
At this moment, he was no longer a good kid who needed to pretend, nor a younger brother jealous of Clark!
He was Dio, a unique existence capable of controlling a mysterious power!
“Muda muda muda muda muda—!!!”
*BOOM!* With the fall of the final heavy punch, the long-dilapidated mill finally gave way under the strain.
With an earth-shattering snap, the entire millstone mechanism collapsed, kicking up waves of flour several meters high.
When the dust settled, Dio sat atop the pile of rubble, a pair of glowing red eyes visible beneath his golden bangs.
Panting heavily, he looked at his flour-covered hands and suddenly realized—
The star birthmark on his shoulder had stopped burning at some point.
“…Hmph.”
Pouting, Dio was about to crawl out of the rubble.
He really was so wicked, resorting to this method to get back at Dad.
Do bad kids not get to go to heaven?
Feeling a bit down, Dio wondered if he should go apologize to Clark first.
But…
“Sigh…”
The sudden sigh made Dio freeze completely.
Looking up, he saw a familiar figure sitting atop the broken beam at the very top of the mill, looking down at him while holding *Basic Physics*.
The two stared at each other through the drifting curtain of flour.
Silence.
A long, heavy silence.
Finally, Rock wiped a smear of flour from his face and said glumly:
“…At least we don’t need to buy flour tonight.”
Dio froze for two seconds, then burst out laughing.
The laugh carried no disguise, no scheming—it was purely that of an eight-year-old boy whose prank had succeeded.
But as he laughed, his eyes grew red.
“Let’s talk.”
Hearing this, Dio felt as though something were stuck in his throat.
He wanted to yell ‘Go away,’ wanted to say ‘Leave me alone,’ or even summon that golden monster again to chase him off.
But in the end, the eight-year-old boy simply bit his lip hard and nodded.
“Before that,” Rock crouched down slowly to look Dio in the eye, “let’s first figure out what that yellow thing is.”
“Haha…” Dio laughed helplessly.
“As you can see, my dear father.”
His voice was soft as a feather.
“Just like Clark, I’m no ordinary child.”
*As if I didn’t know you weren’t an ordinary child.*
“Dio, have you considered why I knew he was yellow?”
*Why else?
Because The World obviously looks yel—*
“?”
Dio blinked, startled.
“Dad…
you?”
“Yes, son.” Rock smiled helplessly and whispered softly, “Star Platinum!”
“This is a Stand, and we…”
“…are Stand users.”
Dio’s pupils shrank.
He stared intently at the purple figure emerging behind Rock…
That silhouette, those muscular lines, even the sharp markings around the corners of its eyes—aside from the color and hair…
…it was practically identical to his [The World]!
“That’s impossible!”
Dio subconsciously summoned his own Stand.
The two giants faced each other across the gap, radiating identical energy fluctuations in the dim mill.
Flour continued to float down gently through the air, resting on Dio’s trembling eyelashes.
His voice cracked with excitement.
“So…
I really am your…”
The word stuck in his throat.
All his doubts about his origins over the past eight years, all his confusion over his blond hair and red eyes, now transformed into a burning expectation.
*We even have the exact same ability.*
*What does that big dummy Clark have to compete with me now?*
Looking at Dio’s terrifyingly bright red eyes, Rock smiled bitterly, reaching out to brush the flour from the tips of his hair.
“Though I’d really like to say yes…”
He paused, then knocked his knuckles lightly against Dio’s forehead.
“…I can’t lie to you.”
“Dio.”