Best Laid Plans

1881 - Dio's Arrival

The carriage rumbled down the dirt road towards Joestar Mansion, its single passenger leaning nonchalantly against the window. Dio watched the passing countryside with little interest, his mind occupied with plans and schemes. With that bastard Dario out of the way, he finally had a shot to do something with his life, to become someone. Outside the carriage window, the serene English countryside was unmarred by people passing by. 

Or so he thought.

Just up ahead, two boys were pummeling another into the ground, while a crying girl stood nearby. As the carriage passed closer, Dio could hear the two boys yelling at the one on the ground.

“You rich kids should play by yourself within your property!” the taller of the two boys shouted, giving the boy on the ground one last kick in the ribs, before running off, his friend close behind. Dio saw the beaten boy push away the weeping girl’s hand and wobble to his feet before the carriage rolled on, leaving the scene behind.

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As the carriage pulled up in front of the Joestar Estate, Dio saw the boy from before, still bruised and bloody, about to enter the front gate. Dio tossed his suitcase onto the ground—it was mostly empty anyway—and leapt out of the carriage, landing on the ground beside them. He smirked at the shocked look on the boy’s face, before straightening up.  The boy—Jonathan Joestar, he presumed—held out his hand.

“So, you’re Dio Brando?” His face was kind and he seemed genuinely pleased to meet him. 

Disgusting.

“So,” Dio mimicked Jonathan’s tone. “You’re Jonathan Joestar.” 

Jonathan smiled.

“Everyone around here just calls me JoJo.” 

Dio opened his mouth to make a biting comment but closed it as he heard something quickly approaching from the side. 

A fuzzy brown blur headed straight for Dio and he jumped to the side, out of the object’s path. Jonathan, instead of jumping out of the way, knelt down and opened his arms to catch the speeding blur.

“Danny!” Jonathan cried in joy, laughing as what Dio now realised was a dog licked his face. The dog—Danny?—put its paws on Jonathan’s shoulders pushing him into the gravel of the driveway. Dio scoffed, turning away from the pair and heading towards the open gate of Joestar Mansion, suitcase in hand.

He froze, fast footsteps approaching him from behind. Instinctively, he dodged the expected blow, kicking at his assailant. He fought to keep his breathing under control, trying not to show the sudden fear that had gripped him.

A whimper from the ground brought him back to reality. Danny lay on the ground a few feet away. Dio’s throat constricted as Jonathan came running up to him. He hadn’t even entered the mansion and he had already caused trouble with his careless actions. He clenched his hands, desperately trying to think of something to say to keep his plan on track.

“Hey!” Jonathan ran to Danny, checking he was okay. “That was too much! What were you thinking?” The anger was clear in his eyes as he looked at Dio.

Dio swallowed and relaxed his fists.

“He shocked me by running up behind me. I apologise. Is he alright?” He managed to keep his cool, his voice sounding calm and collected, the way he’d hoped it would.

“He appears to be okay,” Jonathan said. “I’m sorry he ran after you like that, he gets excited around new people.”

“I see.”

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“You must be tired, Dio! London is very far away,” Lord George Joestar greeted Dio just inside the mansion’s doors, a large smile gracing his face. He waved a hand to the side, gesturing at his son and the servants. “You will live like my son, JoJo. These are the household servants. You may be left here while I work, so they will take care of everything for you.”

Dio smiled at Lord Joestar, slightly bowing his head.

“I am highly thankful for the favours of the House of Joestar.”

“Nonsense! JoJo here also lost his mother and you’re the same age, so I hope you’ll get along well. You have plenty in common after all!” He turned and began to walk up the large central staircase. “Come, Dio, I’ll show you to your room.”

Dio turned to pick up his bag, noticing a strange stone mask hanging on the wall. It reminded him of something, but he couldn’t place his finger on what it was. Shrugging, he reached for his bag only to see Jonathan had already picked it up.

“What are you doing?” Dio asked, making his voice as cold as ice.

“Eh?” Jonathan looked surprised. “I’m carrying your bag for you?”

Dio ground his teeth and snatched the bag out of Jonathan’s hand.

“I can do it myself. Besides, you have dog slobber on your hands.”

Jonathan looked hurt and confused, and for some reason, Dio felt bad. He shrugged the feeling away—after all, why should he feel bad for Jonathan?—and followed Lord Joestar up the stairs.

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The white handkerchief was stained red with blood from Jonathan’s nose. 

Erina Pendelton sighed as she furiously scrubbed at the stains, her fingers red and swollen from the rough surface of the washboard. She missed the days when she hadn’t had to worry about things like washing, the days when there was someone else to take care of it. But those days were long gone. 

Now, Erina managed the house for her father without complaint. But she refused to spend the rest of her life as a poor doctor’s daughter. She was going to make something of herself, no matter what she had to do. She smiled down at the handkerchief, the bloodstains now gone thanks to her furious scrubbing. The embroidered name seemed to stare back up at her. She wrung the water from it, the pinkish water dripping into the bucket. 

Jonathan Joestar, she thought with a sly smile, you will make a fine husband. 

She tipped the bucket of dirty water onto the grass with a careless hand, and she entered the house, locking the door behind her.