Windmill millhouse.
Dio curled himself up in a corner of the loft at the very top.
This was a "secret base" he had copied from Clark's idea, a place only he knew about.
A few worn-out books, a flashlight, some moldy biscuits, and walls covered with charcoal graffiti.
Most of those doodles? Chibi drawings of Clark, with words like "Idiot" and "Moron" scribbled beside them.
The boy hugged his knees, messy blond hair falling across his face.
The birthmark on his shoulder throbbed with a burning sting, and his fingers trembled uncontrollably.
That wild, violent power… that name that had slipped from his lips as if it had been engraved into his very soul.
Dio recalled Clark's shocked face as he was blown away.
To be honest—
It felt amazing!
Even though he had only meant to make that goody-two-shoes suffer a little… when his fist really landed on Clark—
"Damn it!"
Stone chips scattered as his knuckles split, beads of blood seeping out.
But that pain was nothing compared to the chaos inside him.
What terrified him most wasn't the power out of control—
but the look in Locke's eyes: the shock, the disappointment.
"Dad must think I'm a monster…"
Dio buried his face into his arms, throat tight.
He thought of Clark's confused eyes, and how he didn't dodge or resist.
Yes…
With Clark's reflexes, how could he possibly fail to dodge?
That could only mean—he couldn't see it.
The World was something only monsters like him could see.
He thought of Locke's patient voice when teaching him to read over the years, those rough but warm hands whenever he was sick, how this very morning Locke had tousled his hair with a smile and praised his physics homework.
And now—
All of it was ruined!
All of it, by him…
Crack—!
The old windmill blades groaned in the wind, casting shifting shadows.
…Was that movement outside?
Dio stiffened instantly, every muscle tensed.
"The World!"
With a shout, the air behind him distorted again—
The golden figure emerged, standing like a guardian at his side.
But…
No one was there.
Dio's body slackened.
Relief came with disappointment.
How he wished it were Locke, coming to punish him—
Even if it was Clark bringing Uncle Jonathan to scold him, that would've been fine!
But of course…
He, Dio, was the one in this family nobody really needed.
He wasn't competent like Clark.
He couldn't cook like Aunt Martha.
He couldn't repair machines like Uncle Jonathan.
And he couldn't manage a farm like his father.
"Bastards! All of them!"
"I'll become… a villain!"
At eight years old, Dio's heart began to darken.
"Muda!"
He shouted the word he'd picked up from Vampire Hunter D.
And then Dio commanded The World to—
Grind flour!
"Muda muda muda!"
"MUDA MUDA MUDA——!!"
His childish cries echoed through the abandoned mill, while the golden phantom's fists pounded wildly.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Under The World's furious barrage, the millstone—which once only turned by wind—began to spin directly from the blows!
Flour dust erupted like snow, dyeing the entire loft pale white.
"Cough, cough—!"
Dio choked, tears streaming, but his grin only grew wider.
Standing in the storm of flour, his blond hair and shirt turned chalky white, he looked like some doll that had crawled out of a flour jar.
"Not enough! Still not enough!"
He leapt onto the millstone, ordering The World to smash its fist into the drive shaft.
With a shriek of twisting metal, the millstone spun out of control, howling like a dying beast!
"Hahahahaha!"
"WRYYYYY!"
Balancing himself on the violently trembling millstone, Dio spread his arms wide.
Flour spewed from every crack like a volcanic eruption, burying him completely.
In this moment, he was no longer the boy forced to wear a mask of obedience.
No longer the jealous younger brother of Clark!
He was Dio—the one who wielded a mysterious power, a unique existence!
"MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA——!!!"
Boom!
At last, with one final punch, the old millhouse could no longer withstand it.
With a deafening crack, the entire mill mechanism collapsed, sending up waves of flour several meters high.
When the dust settled, Dio sat amidst the rubble, golden bangs framing a pair of glowing red eyes.
He panted heavily, staring at his flour-covered hands—
and realized suddenly that the burning pain in the star-shaped birthmark on his shoulder had stopped.
"…Hmph."
He clicked his tongue and started to climb out of the wreckage.
What a terrible child he was—actually taking revenge on his father in such a way.
Bad kids don't get into heaven, right?
Dio felt a little lost, wondering if maybe he should go find Clark and apologize.
But then—
Sigh…
The sudden sound made him freeze.
Looking up, he saw a familiar figure perched atop one of the broken beams high above.
Looking down at him, in his hand, was that book—Fundamentals of Physics.
Through the drifting blizzard of flour, their eyes met.
Silence.
A long silence.
Finally, Locke wiped the flour from his face and murmured:
"…At least we won't need to buy flour tonight."
Dio blinked in surprise—then suddenly burst out laughing.
That smile carried no disguise, no schemes.
It was purely the laugh of an eight-year-old boy who had just pulled off a prank.
But as he laughed, his eyes began to redden.
"Let's talk."
At those words, Dio's throat tightened.
He wanted to say "Get lost".
He wanted to say "Don't meddle".
He even wanted to summon that golden monster again to drive him away.
But in the end, the boy only bit his lip hard—and nodded.
"Before that," Locke crouched down to meet his eyes, "let's first clear up exactly what that yellow thing is."
"Heh…" Dio let out a helpless laugh. "As you see, my dear father."
His voice was soft as a feather.
"Like Clark, I'm not just an ordinary child."
As if I wouldn't already know that, you're not ordinary…
"Dio, have you thought about why I knew it was yellow?"
What else could it be? Of course because The World looked yellow—
"?"
Dio froze. "Dad… you?"
"Yes, son." Locke gave a weary smile and spoke softly:
"Star Platinum!"
"That's what these are—Stands. And we…"
"…are Stand users."
Dio's pupils contracted sharply.
He stared at the purple figure materializing behind Locke.
Its outline, its muscular frame, even the sharp markings near its eyes—
aside from its color and hair, it was almost identical to his World!
"This is impossible!"
Dio instinctively summoned his own Stand.
The two giants glared at each other across the ruined millhouse, the air thrumming with the same energy.
Flour still drifted slowly through the air, settling onto Dio's trembling eyelashes.
His voice wavered with excitement:
"So I really am your—"
The word stuck in his throat.
All the doubts about his origins, the confusion about his blond hair and red eyes—
in this moment, they burned into a single feverish hope.
If they had the same power—
What could that big oaf Clark possibly use to compete with him?
Seeing the boy's glowing red eyes, Locke sighed and brushed the flour from his hair.
"As much as I'd like to say yes…"
He paused, then suddenly flicked Dio on the forehead with his knuckle.
"But I can't lie to you."
"Dio."