Swassh.
The massive slab of volcanic rock that had been launched skyward with tremendous force finally began to fall back under the weight of gravity. Upon it lay a weakened JoJo, his right hand missing. Having vanquished the perfect lifeform, Kars, he now lay waiting for death as the stone slab accelerated downward.
"Granny… Stroheim… Speedwagon, Smokey, and Lisa Lisa… farewell, everyone. Caesar… wait for me."
Joseph Joestar had made peace. For the ones he loved, he had given it his all. He had emptied his hand, laying down every card for the sake of victory. Now, he was no longer of this world. His eyes, shut from exhaustion, let the blurred surroundings fade into darkness. He expected nothing but the end.
A minute passed.
Then another.
Was this truly death? Why hadn't he felt death's embrace? Or… was this death? The fair lady he'd danced with all through his battles — invincible, yet ever present?
Thud.
JoJo felt a harsh force slam into his right side, followed by a heavier impact across his face. His eyes snapped open — but what greeted him was not the sight of falling rock or the sky above. Instead, he found himself face down on a concrete floor that rumbled slightly under his body. Around him came the sound of rushing footsteps.
Sitting upright, JoJo took in his surroundings.
He was in a tunnel — a long, wide one — and it was packed with people running in one direction. Beside him lay another man who had fallen. JoJo furrowed his brow. He'd been bracing for death, standing still… yet here he was. And this guy seemed to have been sprinting like the rest before crashing into him, causing them both to tumble.
"What's going on? Is this my life flashing before my eyes? A hallucination?" JoJo muttered, squinting. "No, no way. Even my brain wouldn't come up with a place this boring. Hey, you alright, mate?"
The crowd paid him no mind. The man lying beside him didn't move — completely unconscious, it seemed.
"Damn… Wakey wakey." JoJo nudged the guy. "No? Not waking? Well… is this a race or something? Shit. Damn it."
He muttered, then heaved the young man up over his shoulder. The boy had blond hair and green triangular markings under his eyes, near the cheeks. If JoJo had to compare, he'd say the kid looked a bit like Caesar — albeit younger, paler.
"Did that pasta-eating womanizer get reincarnated or something?" JoJo mused as he broke into a jog. If this was a race, then it'd be dishonorable to leave the poor lad behind. Might as well give the kid the royal treatment, at least for now.
He took several controlled breaths, gradually picking up speed and overtaking the slower stragglers that had passed him before. Yet the further he ran, the more people he saw — an enormous crowd that stretched on endlessly. JoJo couldn't even tell where the beginning or end of the mass of runners was.
Then he noticed something odd.
Some people up ahead were moving at speeds their bodies shouldn't have allowed. One man — the size of two ACDCs — was somehow outpacing JoJo entirely. Taking this as a sign to step things up, JoJo began channeling Ripple (Hamon), boosting his strides, speed, and suppressing fatigue.
Tap tap tap.
He had reached somewhere near the front.
Now, he could see the leader — a man in a suit who wasn't even running. Just walking. Yet his pace was faster than anyone else's, and they were rapidly approaching a colossal flight of stairs.
As JoJo closed in, he found himself running alongside two other figures. One was a strikingly pretty young man who vaguely reminded him of Suzie Q, and the other was a shirtless guy in dress shoes and slacks, his suit jacket tied around his waist. He was panting hard, running with all his might — clearly in his thirties.
"You winded, old man?" JoJo called out, more out of boredom than malice. Ripple made this easy for him.
"Who… you callin' a— aah… old man?" the man panted.
"Well, I don't see anyone else pushing fifty except you. It's alright, man. No shame in slowing down. Old knees aren't built for this."
The tunnel's exit came into view.
"I'm not— that— ahh— old! I'm 19, dickhead!" the man snapped between gasps. "And did you seriously just tell me to give up?! I'm gonna be a Hunter, you bastard!"
They crossed the fencing line.
Now outside the tunnel, the winded teen took a few ragged breaths while JoJo raised an eyebrow.
"Hunter? What's that got to do with anything?"
The still-recovering teen gave him a glare sharp enough to cut steel. He looked seconds away from blowing his top — but the blonde beside him stepped in with a calmer voice.
"Calm down, Leorio. Are you trying to pick a fight?" he sighed, clearly used to this. "Stop provoking my friend. It's obvious what he meant by 'Hunter.' This is the Hunter Exam, after all."
"Hunter Exam? Wait— the Hunter Exam?"
JoJo scratched the back of his head.
"I wasn't trying to make fun of the uncle over there — seriously, I had no clue what was going on. I got dragged along by a friend. Same hometown. He didn't tell me much. Haha."
He paused, then straightened up.
"Oh yeah — Granny Erina said it's rude not to introduce yourself. Name's Joseph Joestar. The pleasure's all yours."
JoJo hadn't a clue what was going on, but if there was one thing he'd learned from all those comics… it was to go with the flow. And lie through his ass when necessary.
"Ah, I see," the blonde replied coolly. "Seems you're in way over your head then. And I suppose the pleasure is mine. I'm Kurapika Kurta. That friend of mine — the one you seem so endeared to — is, as I said, Leorio."