Kickstart My Heart

Dolce Vita

That's not my fight.
That's not my fight.
That's NOT my fight, the fuck would I even be doing back there, this Caesar really better be as powerful as Jiji claims or Jiji's gonna end up with two prosthetic hands, I'm tellin' ya...

- Star Platinum The World. Doubleback!

~

Venice, Italy, February 14, 1939

The first thought that came to Jōtarō's mind what 'damn, Italians are noisy!'

He was seriously beginning to miss Japan and its tranquility.

It was market day on top of that.

And he didn't have the slightest idea where he was.

He thought of summoning Star Platinum, but then he wondered if stands even existed yet.
Maybe they did, since Polnareff and Abdul were born with them (but in the 60's).
The young man decided he would summon Star when he'd be alone in a quieter place just to make sure.

Jōtarō searched his pockets and found a $50 bill besides his cigarettes and lighter. With a bit of luck he could use it to buy a map of the city and look for where he could find young Joseph.

He slowly rubbed his temples, feeling a little whiplashed from such a leap back in time. To rewind FOURTY-NINE fucking years in one go sure was something.

He'd have to list Star's newfound abilities sometime. He hadn't even hesitated, he had merely touched Joseph's shoulder when activating Doubleback and it had worked. Just like that.

And to think that a year ago he thought his stand was an evil spirit... they did make a pretty good team.

Jōtarō walked to the crowded stalls, making his way with his massive shoulders.

It seemed as if the whole city had gathered here.
Stallholders shouted words in Italian he didn't understand one bit. And they moved their hand a whole goddamn lot.

What a bizarre way of communicating.
(Did his grandmother speak and gesture like this, too?)

The Japanese teen bumped into a man who turned to him and started insulting him (probably), before freezing before his build and standing to attention.
Jōtarō raised a brow, wondering how anyone could ever confuse a gakuran with an army uniform, or a police uniform or whatever. He lowered his hat on his face. (Hey, might actually be the hat.)

Yare yare daze.

He took a glimpse at the outfits of the men around him. Pretty colorful but a different standing than his. Almost everybody was well dressed and their hair was done perfectly, slicked back with grease and combed with care. The few women present wore wide skirts and their hair was curled and held upwards with class. Maybe it was Sunday and they were on their way to mass or whatever Italian custom Jōtarō didn't know of.

His eye was caught by another stall which was even more crowded than the rest. A florist's, whose clients were mostly men, leaving with bouquets more and more enormous and colorf-

Bam!

As the brunette came closer to try and decipher the sign, somebody bumped into him.

- Aaaah NOOOO!!!

Jōtarō looked down and saw a girl, who bent down and immediately proceeded to gather the huge sunflower bouquet she had dropped in the fall. She was petite, slim, and a few blonde strands flew loose from her hairdo.
- Scusami, scusami, non ti ho visto!!! she apologized in a hurried, high-pitched voice.