A month slipped by quietly.
Under Locke's careful care, Dio finally recovered and was discharged.
Though the boy had been full of energy the whole time, Locke forced him to stay put in the hospital bed.
During that period, Clark, Jonathan, and Martha took turns helping Locke care for the stubborn blond teenager.
Even Anthony found time to visit once, bringing a basket of fresh fruit and an exaggerated greeting:
"Oh, my little hero! You scared me half to death!"
But Lex Luthor never showed up.
Maybe it was because Lionel was still shaken, afraid his son might suffer another accident, or maybe the Luthors were simply too busy.
Locke didn't mind—after all, the LuthorCorp had covered all of Dio's medical bills, even arranging for the highest-tier VIP room with meals catered by top chefs.
And according to Jonathan, their dispute with the insurance company over farm damages had also been "smoothed out" by the LuthorCorp.
The insurance rep, with unusual decisiveness, classified it as "falling debris" and gave them a hefty payout.
The amount was equal to an entire quarter's worth of crop sales for both Jonathan's and Locke's farms combined.
Of course, Locke knew—this was just Lionel's generosity, not something they could take for granted.
Besides, if Dio kept eating gourmet chef meals, his taste buds would be spoiled rotten, and Locke wouldn't be able to afford feeding him anymore.
So, today was the day.
The sun was out, and a gentle breeze was blowing.
Dio stood at the hospital entrance, squinting up at the familiar Kansas sky.
Wearing a short-sleeved shirt, his golden hair gleamed in the sunlight. The wound on his collarbone had long healed, leaving only a faint scar.
Locke patted his shoulder. "Come on, brat. Let's go home."
Dio pouted, but didn't retort as usual, simply giving a soft "Mmm."
In the distance, Jonathan's old pickup rumbled closer. Clark leaned out the window, waving excitedly:
"Dio! Mom brought your favorite blueberry pie!"
Dio rolled his eyes, but a small, involuntary smile appeared on his lips.
...
The setting sun bathed the Kent farmhouse in golden light as the old truck bounced up the gravel drive.
Martha and Jonathan exchanged a knowing look and, as soon as Dio got out of the car, they grabbed Clark, who was about to follow, one on each side.
"Come on, Clark."
Martha's tone was gentle but firm. "Time to go home."
"?!"
"But I wanted—"
Clark's wide blue eyes clung to Dio's retreating back.
"That's enough, Clark." Jonathan wrapped an arm around his son's shoulders. "Your Uncle Locke and Dio need some time alone."
The pickup started up again, carrying the three away toward their farm in the distance.
Dio arched an eyebrow. "Well, they're surprisingly considerate."
"Brat." Locke chuckled and pushed the door open. "Go shower and change—I'll get dinner ready."
"Okay, Dad." Dio licked his lips, clearly already looking forward to it.
So when he came out of the bathroom, towel-drying his damp blond hair, he was greeted by the rich aroma filling the living room.
The dining table was covered with his favorite dishes—
Slow-roasted beef ribs glazed with black pepper sauce, a golden mountain of crispy onion rings, and a steaming bowl of creamy corn chowder.
"Woah."
Dio let out a low whistle. "Dad, don't tell me you blew through that compensation money already?"
"There's plenty left."
Locke snorted softly. Compared to ten grand, this meal was nothing.
"Enough chatter." He poured apple juice into two glasses. "Sit down and eat."
Candlelight flickered across the table, adding warmth to this long-missed father-and-son evening.
Dio was cutting into the ribs when he suddenly spoke up:
"Uh… about the medical bills."
Clearly, he was genuinely worried that the compensation money had already been spent.
"The LuthorCorp covered it all," Locke said, sipping his juice. "But that little Luthor who saved you hasn't shown up since."
Dio's fork scraped faintly against the plate. "Who cares about that brat."
Outside, night was settling over the fields of Smallville.
Locke studied his son's profile in the candlelight. For the first time, he thought the troublemaking brat might have grown up a little.
"Dio." Locke set down his utensils. "About that day in the cornfield—"
"Dad," Dio cut him off, his red eyes gleaming strangely in the candlelight, "I realized something."
"What?"
"The World—" Dio's voice held barely restrained excitement. "I think it can pause time!"
"…"
"And how long do you think it lasts?"
"Like one to three seconds? It feels pretty long to me."
"Is that so?" Locke couldn't hold back a chuckle.
This kid still had no real sense of time. In reality, his Stand could only stop time for 0.1 seconds.
"Dio."
Locke set down his glass, folding his hands under his chin.
"Mm?"
The blond boy didn't even look up as he kept cutting his ribs.
"Listen." Locke's voice softened. "You saved a stranger. You knew it was dangerous, yet you still chose to protect someone weaker. That's rare and precious."
Dio's crimson eyes flickered, and the corners of his mouth lifted unconsciously.
"But…"
Locke's tone shifted. "I have to tell you what true courage really is."
"Hah?" Dio's smile froze.
"What's that supposed to mean, old man? A miracle happened in the end, didn't it? We all survived, right?"
"But Dio…"
Locke stepped over and placed a big hand on his son's shoulder. His voice caught slightly.
"As your father, I don't want you to have that kind of courage."
"I'm sorry for teaching you things too heavy for someone your age."
"Let's talk about miracles first."
"A so-called miracle only exists if it could happen and if you have the strength to back it up."
"I don't want you to place your hopes on something so fleeting—unless you've already exhausted every other option."
"After all, a student who never listens in class and never does homework—no matter how much courage he musters for an exam, all he'll find waiting is failure."
The wind outside suddenly stilled.
Dio stared at his distorted reflection in the apple juice. His scarred collarbone and star-shaped birthmark faintly burned.
He remembered the deadly red light in the cornfield, Lex's terrified scream, and that boiling, reckless battle-lust that surged through him.
Dio was silent for a long time.
Finally, he lifted his head. His crimson eyes shimmered with something complicated.
"So you're saying I should've just left that guy to die?"
"No."
Locke shook his head gently.
"I'm saying, next time something like that happens, make sure you and those beside you are safe first. Then find the most reliable way to help. That's what will let me watch you grow up with peace of mind—"
"—that's real courage."
"…Ugh, so annoying."
Dio turned his face away, golden hair falling to hide his expression.
"Next time I'll make sure to memorize your whole speech before I save someone."
Locke chuckled softly and ruffled his son's blond hair.
"Now that's my boy. And—"
He pulled a steaming plate out of the oven.
"Try this. My new creation—spicy apple pie."
"Spicy?!" Dio's look of disgust was vivid in the candlelight. "Old man, have your taste buds finally died completely?"
"You little brat…"
"Fine. Just for tonight..." Locke raised his glass. "To celebrate you getting out of the hospital."
Dio grinned, showing his sharp canines. "To a narrow escape?"
"To our family being together," Locke corrected.
The father and son's laughter echoed in the night sky over the farm.
In the distance, a golden meteor streaked across the sky, looking just like Dio's hair shining in the sun.
...
Before long, summer vacation was nearing its end.
Locke returned from the fields with Clark and Dio, their arms full of heavy wheat sheaves—harvest season was just around the corner.
Yes, even Dio had been forced into the labor force, sweating it out in the fields every day.
After all, having a Stand that handy and not using it to reap oats would be a crime against nature.
Of course, the same went for Clark.
With his superhuman body, not putting him to work on the harvest would also be a waste.
Clark didn't seem to mind, though—if anything, he was delighted. It gave him yet another excuse to stick around the Kent household all day, clinging to Dio like an unshakable piece of taffy.
Dio's verdict on that was:
"This guy is basically like my second Stand—once he sticks on, you can't shake him off, and he'll even grow legs and chase you down!"
Watching the two boys roughhousing in the piles of wheat, Locke pinched the bridge of his nose.
"All right, you two—enough. Let's head inside."
"Huh?"
The front door was unlocked?
Locke raised an arm to stop the two kids behind him, his eyes sharpening.
Star Platinum shimmered faintly at his back.
"Stay behind me."
Dio and Clark exchanged a look and stopped walking..
Lock slowly walked up and gently pushed the door open.
The first thing to hit him was the rich aroma of meat.
He knew that smell all too well.
It was Dio's stash of prime ribeye, reserved only for special occasions—a top-grade steak.
Did someone sneak in and cook for themselves while hungry?
"Hahaha! Hahahahaha!"
A booming, carefree laugh rang out from the living room.
Too arrogant!
This was intolerable!
Bang!
Locke shoved the door wide open.
Sitting on the couch, chomping on steak and watching TV with a grin, was a man—his head crowned with three golden donut-shaped rings of hair.
Hearing the commotion, the man turned his head without a hint of awkwardness and gave a big, cheerful smile. "Yo! Long time no see—"
"Grandpa Locke!"
"Oh? And Spicy Salami, too, hahahaha! You're also..."
"Ciao~"