The Ludicrous Escapade Pt.3

Not the Devil

It was twelve o'clock. You were leaning on the railing of the stairs when a baseball rolled down the steps. You reached down to pick it up only for your hand to phase through it.

"A Stand?" You mumbled to yourself. "Or a ghost?" Both seemed just as likely.

"Oh?" A kid in a baseball uniform, presumably the one in the trash can last night, hopped down the stairs. "You know about ghost objects?" He picked the ball up with his glove.

"Yeah, I know a guy. He's gotten himself situated in this sort of ghost house type thing." You were, of course, referring to Yoshikage Kira. After him helping you with a few odd jobs here and there, you had helped clean out the ghost mansion he had lost an arm at a while back. He was able to get a new arm, too, so that was nice. "But how is it that you can touch them? You can't be a ghost, right? When I shook your hand yesterday, I definitely felt flesh and bone."

"It's my Stand." He tossed the ball up into the air and caught it to emphasize his point. "It allows me to interact with ghost objects. And if you already know about them, it'll make explaining all of this a lot easier."

"How did you even get in this prison?" A child being here wasn't exactly normal.

"A prisoner gave birth to me here. Ever since then, I've been secretly living in this prison. But we can't talk here. Come with me. We can talk in my room." Emporio grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you toward a deceptively thin crack in the wall. Your whole body seemed to flatten for a few seconds as you moved through the crack. Then it reexpanded, putting you in a room.

Sunlight streamed in through the blinds. There was also a red carpet on the floor with a grand piano on top. Two men were leaning against the instrument, watching you carefully.

"A girl?" Questioned the man with long pink hair, intrigued.

"Diavolo...?" You shook your head. It didn't make any sense. And after looking at him for a few seconds, you realized they didn't look that similar after all. Especially when Diavolo was very much dead.

"You speak Italian?" The pinkette rested his chin in his palm, now scanning you more intensely. "That's interesting."

"Oh... um..." Emporio rubbed the back of his neck, looking between you and the pink haired man. "Usually they don't talk so I'd tell you not to worry about them. But his name is-"

"Anasui." The man you now knew as Anasui stood up from the piano and extended a hand toward you. "And you are...?"

"(Y/N)." You accepted the offer and shook his hand. "And yeah. I speak Italian. Do you?"

"No, no. I just know a few words here and there." He leaned against the wall with his elbow. "You called me a devil, right? Do you know who I am?" He assumed you knew about what he'd done, about how he was a killer.

"Uh... no." You scratched the side of your face. "You just look similar to someone I knew. Don't worry about it."

"(Y/N)..." Emporio pulled you away from Anasui to whisper to you, "Have you really not heard of him? He's been on TV and in the newspapers."

"I live in Japan, so I usually don't get much news from Florida." And since you lived in Morioh, usually the station only played stuff from in town. Even then it was unlikely, especially since Okuyasu took up the job of Morioh-Cho's radio host.

"Then I'll just give you a fair warning. He's not exactly a trustworthy person. He's a murderer." The kid seemed nervous just talking about him, "Ever since he was a kid he always liked taking things apart. Toys, phones, clocks, even a neighbor's car. When he was 21 he went to his girlfriends place only to see her with another man. He disassembled them on the spot. If Weather Report- that's the guy with the fluffy hat- wasn't here, there's no telling what Anasui would do."