"Does this thing need feeding? Or is it the kind where it bites you first?"
"No matter how I look at it, we got scammed. Can't believe we actually negotiated with a cat..."
At an abandoned stable somewhere out in the countryside, Johnny turned the intricate little object over in his hands, too afraid to force any of its parts. He'd confirmed one thing: this was definitely not a Stand.
He'd already braced himself for the consequences of being deceived — but Gyro's involvement made it sting even more. One moment of irrational impulse. He should have inspected the goods on the spot, even if two people who didn't trust each other would never have given each other that chance.
Right. Besides that line about nothing being perfectly fair, that infuriating four-legged creature had also said don't trust the devil. That was practically a confession.
Gyro watched Johnny grit his teeth and offered consolation. "Cheer up, pal. Look at the craftsmanship — the wings even move. Sell it to the right merchant later and you'll never worry about money again. All things considered, we didn't come out that badly."
"We noted the other Corpse Parts' locations too, right? One of them's the Legs. That might still help you."
"Gyro. I'm sorry."
Johnny's fist tightened.
He'd been scammed by a cat. As a member of a supposedly intelligent species—
If anyone found out — say, that bastard Diego — his reputation would be finished.
"Alright, alright, I told you I don't mind — want to hear a new joke I thought of?"
"Thanks — hm? Gyro, what's that behind you?"
"Behind me?" Gyro turned.
A balloon dog. The kind you'd see at a street fair.
He'd liked those as a kid, but that didn't mean he wanted to see one moving toward him on its own.
"Tch. Is it because of the beetle?"
Gyro launched a Steel Ball. Dead-on — and the explosion that followed turned the ball to shrapnel.
"GYRO!" Johnny shouted.
That's when Gyro saw them: dozens more balloon dogs, ducks, snakes — closing in from all sides, strange symbols faintly visible on their surfaces. Like... onomatopoeia?
"It's him!"
Out in open terrain there wasn't much cover. Johnny spotted someone crouched behind a distant tree, blowing through a long pin.
Mike O. A Black man working for the President. His Stand: Tubular Bells.
Ability: inflates metal into balloons, folds them into animal shapes, granting each the attributes of that animal. Upon contact with a target, the metal snaps back to its original form and drills into the body, destroying tissue from within.
Honestly, this ability was better suited for tracking the President's most-wanted traitor — balloon dogs that followed a scent, for instance. But range limitations meant Mike had only been able to keep them circling the presidential estate. If not for his usual partner being recruited by the President at short notice, Valentine would never have risked sending his best tracker to eliminate two men in the field.
Mike glanced toward the grass where Sandman crouched, apparently feeling none of the insect bites. This Native American runner — competing on foot — had agreed to help the President seize Holy Corpse Parts in exchange for his tribe's land.
The man's Stand, In a Silent Way, could store sounds — the crack of a burn, the slice of a blade, the blast of an explosion — inside objects, releasing them at will. Combined with Mike's mobile balloon animals, it created a world you couldn't escape.
(Note: Mike's signature phrase is "the world.")
"Damn it, we already handed over our Corpse Parts!" Johnny fired nail shots at the incoming balloons. The animal shapes weren't fast, but they didn't need to be — the danger was getting close enough to touch, and unlike living creatures, they required no host organism to create.
The Stand user was too far away. Too many balloons. He had ten nails, and regrowth took dozens of seconds at minimum. And he still couldn't move.
Call Slow Dancer? Too risky — if his horse got hurt in this mess, they were done with the race entirely.
Damn it.
Johnny gripped the beetle he'd been tricked into taking.
"Johnny, about the Spin — Johnny?"
Gyro had been working up to something, but he noticed his friend's attention had gone elsewhere.
A belt had appeared around Johnny's waist — grooved, like it was waiting for something.
"Hey. What is that?"
"I — I don't know. It looks like the beetle—" The groove at the bottom matched the beetle's underside exactly. Even an idiot could see what was meant to happen.
He had no idea what it would do. But instinct moved Johnny's hand before reason could stop him — he slid the beetle into the groove.
『HENSHIN』
Armor — what felt like leather and metal fused together — erupted from his waist and spread outward, encasing his entire body in seconds. Heavy. Unyielding. Armed to the teeth.
The moment the transformation locked, a shockwave blasted outward — knocking every balloon away and sending Gyro stumbling off his feet.
Gyro pulled himself up from the ground, jaw open. "What in the world is that..."
"Diego never mentioned this one... doesn't matter. It's just for show." Mike coordinated with Sandman and launched another wave of onomatopoeia-balloons straight at Johnny.
Johnny instinctively raised his left hand — then realized the armor had sealed him completely. No exposed nails. He couldn't use his nail shots like this.
The balloons swarmed him. Stored burns, lacerations, impact force — all detonated across his body at once. Fire crackled. The ground under him cratered.
"JOHNNY!!"
"Gyro — I'm fine. It doesn't even hurt—"
"What?" Mike stared.
Johnny looked down at his legs. Still paralyzed.
This wasn't working. He was still just a target.
"Gyro, I'll pass you the belt — put it on and take him out!" Johnny tried to unbuckle it and accidentally moved the beetle's horn.
『CAST OFF』
The heavy armor blew apart. Simultaneously, the beetle's great horn swept upward, splitting the cerulean visor clean down the center.
"Johnny, they're closing in again — calm down and listen to me—"
"Hold on, Gyro, I'm trying to figure out how to take this off." Johnny looked down. Three buttons on the horn.
Something — some wordless instinct — said: press them. As if pressing them would trigger some incredible move.
He didn't hesitate. He pressed all three in sequence, then gripped the beetle's horn and turned it.
『One, two, three』
『RIDER KICK』
"..."
Johnny looked down at his paralyzed legs.
Say that again — rider what?
"This. Is not. Funny."
As if reading his frustration, the armor moved on its own. His body rose — something outside his own will pulled him upright — and his right leg crackled with electricity as he launched from the ground, closed the distance in an instant, and drove his heel straight into Mike O.
"Did you see that, Gyro?! That flying kick — tell me it wasn't incredible!" Johnny spun toward his companion, barely containing himself.
Gyro: "..."
He'd been trying to teach Johnny the true Golden Spin. He hadn't expected his friend to launch from ten meters out and stomp the enemy into paste.
"I can feel it — this armor really can make me move. I just need practice. We were wrong about that cat."
"Pal, I completely understand how you feel, but walking around in that is going to draw some attention. Can we get back to what I was trying to say earlier? The Spin."
"Weren't you the one who told me not to get my hopes up about the Spin?" Johnny asked.
Gyro rubbed his chin. "I'd already talked myself into teaching you and then the beetle interrupted me. Now that we're here, I'm teaching you today whether you like it or not..."
Johnny gave a few distracted nods and turned the cat's words over in his mind.
Something about "third at the finish" — was she predicting one of them would place third in this race? He couldn't make sense of it. Who — or what — was that cat? Was she the "devil" she'd warned him against?
He thought again about the tracks in the wilderness. Hoofprints circling three separate maps.