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Chapter 0 – Starless Birthday
September 22nd — Morioh Town, 8:56 PM
The porch was quiet. Johan "JoJo" Joestar sat cross-legged on the wooden steps, head slightly bobbing to the muffled bassline of the song looping in his headphones. His hands lazily spun a flick blade between his fingers—not out of aggression, just habit. The sky was overcast, clouds swallowing the moon. The stars stayed hidden.
Just how Johan liked it.
Behind him, warm light spilled from the house onto the small garden. His father, Yojun Joestar, knelt near a gnarled bonsai tree with tiny scissors in hand. He worked with the precision of a sculptor and the reverence of a priest, trimming and shaping the branches as if tending to a living philosophy.
His wife, Erina, sat on a wicker chair beside him. She wasn't a Stand user, but she'd always lived at the edges of the strange. A warm teacup rested between her palms, steam rising lazily into the air.
"He's barely said a word all day," Erina said softly, watching Johan's back.
Yojun chuckled. "That's just JoJo. He's got that brooding hero thing going." He leaned back, wiped his hands on his pants, and sighed. "Eighteen already. I still remember the first time he tried to punch me. Didn't even reach my chest."
Erina smiled. "Should we do something? He doesn't seem the cake-and-candles type, but… it is his 18th."
Yojun paused, thinking. "Maybe we just keep it simple. Cook something good, maybe play some old records. Let him know we're proud."
Erina grinned. "Chocolate tart?"
Yojun laughed. "You read my mind."
Their quiet laughter filled the air, genuine and unfiltered. But then—something snapped.
Yojun's body stiffened.
"Ah—!" He clutched his side. The scissors dropped from his hand, clattering on the stone path. His body trembled, chest heaving as if he'd been stabbed from the inside.
"Yojun?" Erina was on her feet instantly. She grabbed his shoulders, panic flashing across her face. "Yojun! What is it!?"
He struggled to breathe. "Red Velvet… Something's wrong—"
Erina turned her head toward the house. "JOJO!!"
But Johan didn't hear.
He'd wandered into the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for iced tea, earbuds still buried deep in his ears. The music thumped, drowning out the rising tension outside.
Outside, Red Velvet materialized.
The Stand had always appeared like an elegant humanoid of bark and flower—its presence more soothing than threatening. But this time, it flickered—unstable, jerking like a corrupted video file. Its petals curled. Its limbs twisted.
And then—it struck.
Without warning, a sharp, spear-like root shot from its chest and drove straight through Erina's heart.
She gasped.
Yojun screamed.
She fell silently to the earth.
"ERINA!!!"
Yojun scrambled toward her, blood already soaking through her blouse. He reached for her—but then Red Velvet twitched again.
Its form contorted, petals burning away into blackened husks. Bones cracked. Vines tore through its limbs. The Stand began to grow—expanding, mutating—until it loomed like a 19-foot floral nightmare, its head brushing the top of the garden shed. Bark became muscle. Petals became claws. Its face still vaguely resembled Yojun—just enough to horrify.
Yojun clutched his head. His voice was strained, inhuman.
"It's still me… JoJo… I can't stop it—"
Inside the kitchen, Johan froze. He'd felt it.
Not heard it. Felt it.
A hum beneath the floorboards. A shift in the air pressure. A sharp sting of adrenaline in his chest.
He pulled out his earbuds.
Silence.
Then—a scream.
He stepped toward the back door. Opened it.
His mother was lying still.
His father—or what used to be him—was crawling beneath a towering beast of bark and madness.
And the garden smelled like blood and sap.
Johan didn't speak.
He just stared—–
As something inside him began to break open.
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