Kickstart My Heart

Walking On A Thiiiin Line...

How long did it take to travel from Japan to Egypt? was the first thought that crossed Jōtarō's mind when he woke up.

The Crusaders' fight against Hol Horse and Boingo would happen around noon, there was little chance that Caesar would arrive before.
Jōtarō was eager to see Joseph's reaction when the Italian joined them. No doubt the Englishman would rant at them for taking a decision opposite to his, but what his grandson was more curious about, was how their relationship had evolved since 1939. Did they still quarrel over nothing? Or had living together and raising a child made them more mature?

(... yeah, no. Joseph still had a fuckton of progress to make, given the Polnareff-like behavior he had pulled out no later than yesterday.)

Jōtarō was hopeful that with a little luck, Caesar's presence would compensate Joseph's explosive personality.
... well, provided it wasn't the opposite, like back when the blond fought Wamuu, and actually turned out to be the most unstable one.

~

- Sorry I couldn't be of better help, Sir...!
- No problem, merci beaucoup!

Polnareff got down from the roof with a negative shake of the head. For several hours already the Crusaders had been wandering around Cairo, searching for any info on Dio's hideout.

Joseph hung up the payphone and turned to them, a somber look on his face.
- I just called the Speedwagon Foundation, Holly's state is getting worse and worse. She's exhausted, they say she only has a couple days left.

He frowned and stared blankly to the horizon further than the roofs above their heads.
- Dio is so close, he mumbled. I can feel it, I know it.

Jōtarō lowered his hat.

This was so goddamn frustrating...! he mentally growled, maintaining his usual poker face. The bastard's mansion was just a fucking BLOCK AWAY, but he couldn't say a word.

Abdul suggested they continued asking people around. It was market day so there were people everywhere. Jōtarō thought back to the Venetian market, in which he had materialized in 1939.

Here in Egypt people spoke at least as loud, it was much hotter than Italy, dust was flying everywhere from the unpaved streets, and the smells of spices were almost suffocating compared to San Valentino flowers.

- Who wants a date?

The Egyptian had just bought a bag of them from a stall holder. Polnareff almost jumped onto him shouting "me, me!", soon imitated by Joseph. The Englishman seemed to lighten up as he bit into the fruit, and his usual troublemaker grin was back on his face.
He pointed at a stall a couple feet further, at the other end of the street.
- Look, that man over there is selling pictures of Cairo. Maybe he can help?
- Good idea!

Polnareff and Joseph ran to him, Abdul walking suit.
Jōtarō was about to follow them when he froze, cutting himself short from lighting a cigarette.

Something was off, he could feel it.
As if the air had altered, as if he were being watched.

Wait... no.
More like as if he wasn't being watched, actually. Though he should have.

The Japanese teen glanced at his watch and frowned. He could have sworn it was by that time that Polnareff should have turned right and bumped into Hol Horse who was stalking them. On the contrary though, the Frenchman was currently at said picture stall, waving the still of Dio's mansion with insistence in front of the merchant's eyes.

Jōtarō turned into the second to next street, and went around it in silence.

Nothing to be seen behind the corner.
Not even the upside down box Boingo should have been using as a hideout.