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Straizo _ran._ His feet barely touched the ground. They'd come here expecting to meet their old friend again, him and Dire and their master, only to come across a bruises young man with tears in his throat and absolute murder in his eyes who'd told them the situation. Young Jonathan Joestar. Jonathan Joestar who their old friend had taken on as a protege, a friend, and maybe even a son. Jonathan Joestar who was going with Dire and Tonpetty to defeat a villain and long time rival of his. What a story.
Out of the three men who had trained under Tonpetty together, Straizo's magic was the least battle-oriented. Hamon had many uses. Dire could fight. Tonpetty could manipulate the weather to some extent. William could walk on water and a bunch of other oddities. Jonathan Joestar grew flowers. And Straizo mended bones as best he could. And that's why he'd been sent back. Back up onto the mountain ridge, across that, and down onto the balcony leading into the lair of the two headed dragon. He had to scale the steep mountain to get down there, climbing as quickly as he could without slipping. Well there, he allowed himself a few seconds to breathe and to think. He stroked his long hair out of his face and took a moment to go over what the Joestar man had really said.
Dio Brando, vampires and masks, blood and vengeance. And his mentor, "Baron" Zeppeli, who had taken terrible damage during a battle Straizo and the others had _missed._ He might never forgive himself for that. He should have been there for his friend. When Dire, shocked as they'd all been, had asked where Will was, Jonathan Joestar had pointed and told them, "up there. He's not alone." And Straizo and Dire had only had to glance at each other. They knew what had to happen next. Tonpetty, for some reason, hadn't wanted Straizo to go. He'd heard a shout of "Straizo! Stay here!" As he took off. He hadn't listened.
He wondered what Tonpetty wanted. Maybe their master, with all his knowledge and his apparent ability to see the future, had known that it'd be pointless? Maybe their friend was long dead already. Maybe hamon was useless now. But Straizo had to know. William had been their comrade for years, a decade even, and while they never got as close to him as they'd done to each other, Dire and him, they still couldn't just let him die.
What had the Joestar meant with "he's not alone"?
Straizo straightened up. Enough thinking. He would either save his old friend or bring the body back. He steeled himself, and pushed the iron door open. A puff of green mist escaped at his feet and slipped out into the night. The old hinges, unused and uncared for, creaked. Whoever _else_ was in there would definitely notice his arrival.
And they sure did.
"What the-- HEY! Who're you?"
"Huh?" Straizo took a step inside the vast gloomy room. A few torches burned, but the rest, situated along the walls, had clearly burnt out by now. Time had passed. He wondered who had lit them. In their faltering red light and the white sheen of the moon from the doorway, a shape was visible on the floor. Sharply contrasted to every light, casting three or four shadows on the stone tiles. Eyes glinted in the dark. Unfamiliar eyes.
"What the fuck are you?" And an unfamiliar voice, rough and with a distinct English accent but above all _dripping_ with defensive disgust, anger, and fear. Anybody with a voice like that was to be feared. Someone with a voice like that could kill you.
"Are you friend or foe?" Straizo asked. "I've come for a friend of mine, the... The Baron Zeppeli. Is he here?" He stepped closer, out of the square of cold light framed by the door, and got a better look at the owner of the voice. A man crouched on the floor, the moonlight making his hair appear silver, his eyes glinting like metal, clothed in dark cloth, shivering with cold and maybe emotion as well, and holding protectively to his chest a man who was only vaguely recogniseable as Straizo's old friend. The sight made him gasp and drop all pretense.
"How could this happen?" He managed. "He who is such a proud fighter... Who did this to him?"
The shivering young man seemed to drop his guard a little. Straizo got the feeling that he was no longer being regarded as a direct threat, which to his embarrassement sent a wave of relief down his body.
"Come," he said. "Let me tend to him." Hamon sparked around his hands as he took yet another step closer.
"You know that hamon thingy?" The man sounded genuinely surprised.
"Yes! No doubt you'll be familiar with it if you know my friend! Allow me to help."
The stranger did indeed allow Straizo to crouch down and place a hand along his old friend's blood-soaked side, sending his magic through his fingers and into his body, trying not to wince at the damage he sensed there and doing his best to patch the broken bones and lungs.
"This is bad," he muttered to himself as he worked.
"You don't say," the stranger chimed in. Despite letting Straizo touch him, he had not been willing to let go of William, something that made Straizo think that they must indeed know each other well.
"The hamon," he said instead. "You must feel it from here. Living things are very good conductors. Doesn't it bother you?"
"Nah. Felt it before. Now who are you?"
"My name is Straizo," Straizo said. "That is all you need for my name. I trained together with... With him, for many years."
The stranger looked surprised once more. "Huh... The bastard's got friends."
"I would think so," Straizo said maybe a little sarcastically. "But what about you? Who are you?"
The stranger... Hesitated. His curiosity seemed to be battling his suspicion. Still shivering he shrugged. "Speedwagon," he muttered. "R E O Speedwagon. And that's all ya need to know for mine."
The two had come to an understanding. And Straizo felt that he'd done all he could, so he too his hands back and took a few seconds to restore his breathing to the normal rythm. William stirred, but Straizo was sure that he would not wake. Injuries like that did not simply go away no matter how much magic was used.
"Will he live?" Speedwagon asked, his hostile tone giving way to something softer. Straizo was surprised. Now that he looked closer at the man he could see the old scars running across his face, and the clothing, which was decent but definitely not something a nobleman would wear. Middle class clothing, battle scars, and a definite working class accent. What a strange person. And yet he spoke with genuine worry in his tone.
"We've given him a genuine chance," Straizo admitted, adopting his hospital voice. "He'l need rest. We would do best to get back to London, if we can. I will have to trust their hospitals." But his curiosity got the better of him. "How did you come to be here? With... All us strange people?"
That got a scoff. "You all sure are weird. You've got Mr Joestar to thank for me bein' 'ere. We became friends through... An unlikely circumstance."
"And William?"
"William?"
"You didn't know his first name?"
"Why should I?" Speedwagon said. "We've spent the past month or so at each other's throats. Your William's a bastard, by the way. A queer, stuck up bastard."
Now it was Straizo's time to scoff. "Mhm. And yet you seem protective of him?"
"...a lot's happened in the past twelve hours."
"I know how you feel," Straizo said with complete honesty. "I really do."
~~~
Two days later, Straizo and Dire visited William in the hospital where he was staying. He was standing up when they got there, looking out through the window.
"Hey you old idiot!" Dire greeted. "You should be lying down!"
They convinced their friend to sit down before beginning their conversation, which they managed to hold in passable Nepali. Will looked the worse for wear, worn out as if by too much travel and too little food, and on top of that he was pale from his wounds. His arm was in a sling. But he didn't look much older, and neither, seemingly, did he act it.
"So," he said, getting comfortable in a cross-legged position. "How did you find me?"
"Tonpetty is just like that," was Straizo's simple answer. "He knows."
"I can't believe he agreed to come."
"I can't believe it either," Dire said. "He said he wanted to pay his respects?"
A shadow crosses Will's face. For a moment he looked both betrayed and guilty. "Oh."
Straizo and Dire looked at each other and discovered they'd both noticed the change, but neither quite knew what to do about it.
"You are all right are you?" Dire said carefully.
Will was quickly back to his usual self. "As well as can be expected with all this." He motioned at his bandages. "As far as I've understood it I have you to thank for saving my life!"
"Well yes, me and that other friend of yours," Straizo said.
"Who now?" Dire chimed in.
"Yeah that man I told you about, remember? That... Speed..?"
"Speedwagon," Will said distantly. "Robert E O Speedwagon. I think."
"Who is he?" Straizo decided to sir down on the bed. Dire plopped down on the floor, a common thing for him to do. "He wouldn't give me a clear answer as to how he knew you."
Will made an embarrassed little smile. "Ah yes, I would imagine he's a little sensitive about it. He doesn't much like men of noble standing, and yet I think we've come to respect each other now and it hasn't even been that long."
"Doesn't like rich people?" Dire rubbed his hands together. "A man of culture I see."
"Of course," Will said with a nod. "But poor Speedwagon found himself both wrapped up in things not concerning him and involved with three people who are indeed of noble standing. We really didn't get along at first."
"So he told me."
"I can imagine. But I think we just didn't understand each other's points of view. I'm sorry to say he had a change of heart before I did."
"Oh?" Straizo urged his friend to go on in the manner of a man who knows that if the person he's talking to doesn't get near-immediste validation and confirmation of the listener's attention, he will most definitely think he is being annoying and will shut up until further notice. Straizo did not want Will to shut up, hence the noises.
"What made you change your mind about the fellow?" Dire asked.
"During a tense moment when I was wounded in a way that restricted my ability to use hamon, Speedwagon made... A painful and selfless decision that most definitely saved all three of our lives."
"Awfully cryptic."
"I'll tell you everything in detail some other time. After at least half a bottle of fine wine."
"We actually brought some alcohol for this very purpose. Wanna join us?"
"Hah!"
A bizarre adventure it must have been indeed. Straizo felt confident that William would tell them soon enough. He had one more pressing matter though, before the true storytelling could begin.
"When I ran back to find you," he said, "after having had a brief run-in with Jonathan Joestar... For some reason Tonpetty didn't want me to go."
"Yeah," Dire said. "He said something weird about it being no use because fate had to happen or something."
That look came back. Equal measures guilt and betrayal, maybe with guilt gaining the upper hand this time as Will averted his gaze. "Oh, yes..." He muttered. "Fate..."
"There's something bothering you," Dire said. "You are not good at hiding your emotions."
"No," Will said. "I am not. And there's something I haven't told you."
~~~
At weddings, there is a lot of social etiquette involved. Usually, there is also a lot of religion. Erina Pendleton --- now Joestar --- had worked hard through her husband to remove as much of this as possible. Nevertheless, there were a lot of things you had to do _right._ Like how you eat your food and how you speak. However, the toning down of social rules had allowed Speedwagon to come to the wedding as well, which was good because if he hadn't been invited he would probably have had to watch through the windows. He was not missing this for his life. Jonathan Joestar was most of the things he admired in life, he was his good friend and of course he would be there at his wedding. He did feel a twinge of unidentifiable jealousy as he watched Jonathan and Erina dance, but was able to shrug it off. He decided to go look around. The new Joestar estate was big and disgustingly fancy and he had people he'd really like to meet. So he made his way up some stairs, his new clothes uncomfortable and stiff as he moved. Damn the supper class and their vests. Through a hallway on the second floor, he found who he was looking for in a smaller more secluded living room inhabited by only a handful of people.
"Oi!" He said, completely ignoring anything Jonathan had tried to teach him about manners. "Straizo! We meet again?"
"As I suspected, Mr Speedwagon," Straizo said with what looked like a genuine smile disguised as a fake one. "Allow me to introduce you. My friend Dire, and our master, Master Tonpetty."
"Hi," said Dire, and shook Speedwagon's hand. Her wasn't particularly good at English, but he gave Speedwagon a warm smile and said, "a man of my kind, I can tell. I see it."
"Its the scar, innit?" Speedwagon laughed. "I can tell you're a good bloke aswell, don't worry."
Tonpetty had not said anything. He usually didn't. He looked out of place at this wedding as well, and busied himself staring out at the darkening sky without paying attention to anything around him.
"Master?" Straizo said pensively. "Did you hear? This is the man I told you about."
"Ah, yes..." Their master's voice was low, and uneven without being rough, gravelly and soft at the same time, an old voice. A voice who knew but did not often share. As of now it sounded strangely cold. "The man who led our William away from his true fate?"
"Huh?" Dire said. Straizo remembered Will telling them; the prophecy of his death made 25 years ago, the prophecy that somehow had not become truth. The prophecy who's moment had passed. He glanced at Speedwagon, who's face had hardened.
"Oh," he said equally coldly. "S' you."
"You have heard of me, I take it?" Straizo thought he could feel the temperature starting to drop.
"Yeah. You're the guy who made that damn prophecy huh."
"Ignoring the obvious slander of my craft I'm very curious in how you found out about me."
"Zeppeli told me. As he was bleeding out because that prophecy made him think that that was the right thing to do."
Oooh. Straizo thought he understood. Finally.
_"Leave,"_ Tonpetty said.
"Gladly," Speedwagon said, his voice dropping into a growl. "You already know what you've done."
And he was gone.
~~~
On the way back to the hotel, Straizo wondered. Wondered about prophecies in themselves partly. If a prophecy of someone's death had been made, and that prophecy did not in fact come true, did that prove that the one who made the prophecy was a fraud? Or did it invalidate the idea of a measurable fate as a whole? It was a very big topic to digest. Mostly though, he wondered about William. What had it been like for him? Living 25 years knowing he had to die painfully because of a prophecy told to him by someone he trusted and respected. He would have had to believe it. Straizo couldn't imagine having to live like that. No relationship would last, no place could be home if you had a purpose and your days were numbered. You can't _keep_ anything if you know your one purpose is to find an object and die protecting it. And when you finally think you can rest, when you finally find the right time and place to die that you've been looking for for so long, it turns out that you survive and everything is fine. How do you cope with that?
That Speedwagon fellow seemed a good sort though. Rational. Ancered not in mystical knowledge and prophecies but in something far simpler. As it seemed, he, and not Straizo, was the reason for William's survival.And Straizo was secretly very glad that he was around.