GENERAL INFO: There will be two initial chapters, after two weeks from the first chapter there will be five new chapters every Sunday.
The world is basically JoJo's Bizarre adventure, except Stone Ocean's events happen after this, specifically in the year 2031.
Anything but that is the same unless I see a clear change that could make the story more interesting, any other changes are spoilers for the story ahead, I hope you enjoy.
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April, year 2024…
---Somewhere in the Middle Eastern…
It was midnight in a city known for its massive buildings. The streets were unusually quiet for the importance of the city, the kind of silence that hums with secrets long buried. Under flickering streetlamps, a man walked alone — his steps steady, but devoid of purpose. He had the look of someone shaped by conflict: white-gray hair swept back like smoke from a fire long extinguished, thought he looked young, a leather patch covering his left eye, a permanent reminder of battles fought in darker days. His face was calm, almost serene, but behind that calm was a life twisted with regret and decisions that he couldn't recall or remember either. He moved like a ghost in his own skin, guided not by destination but by muscle memory and something heavier — like gravity was pulling him towards something bigger than himself. That night, as the world slept and the city breathed around him, he took his final steps. And somewhere between one streetlight and the next, the man who had outrun so much of his past met an end he did saw coming, thought he wasn't waiting for. That day, he died.
---France, Lyon, University of Lyon…
Unaware of these past events, wandering through the bustling hallway, a rather striking duo drew attention as they strolled side by side. The first, a young man in his early twenties, stood confidently at about 180 centimeters tall. His skin had the warm bronze tone of someone who spent just enough time under the sun, and his long, unruly brown-black hair was pulled back into a loosely tied, half-hearted ponytail that barely kept it together. A single golden earring, shaped like a five-pointed star, dangled from his right ear, catching the hallway lights with every step. He had a solid, athletic build—not bodybuilder-level, but the kind of strength you'd expect from someone who worked with their hands. His outfit spoke volumes of effortless swagger: a black, unzipped jacket that fluttered slightly with his movement, revealing a simple white T-shirt underneath. His pants were long and a bit baggy, giving off a relaxed vibe, and his shoes—a sleek pair of black J's—were made even more eye-catching by a crisp, white flame pattern that curled along the sides like dancing smoke.
Walking beside him was someone who seemed almost like a character from another world altogether. A sharp contrast to his earthy tones and laid-back demeanor, the girl looked to be no older than sixteen—certainly too young to be wandering a college hallway unattended, and yet here she was. Her eyes were a radiant, almost glowing pink, matching the hue of her long, flowing hair that bounced lightly with every step. She stood no taller than 160 centimeters, petite and doll-like, yet her presence was anything but forgettable. Her dress was an elaborate blend of soft pink, crystal blue, and white, flowing down in gentle layers like something pulled from a magical girl anime. On her feet were a pair of pink J's, custom-styled to coordinate perfectly with her outfit. Like her companion, she wore a single golden earring shaped like a star, this one hanging from her left ear—an intentional symmetry that hinted at a sibling-like connection between the two.
The eye-catching pair made their way down the corridor, their steps in sync as if they'd walked this path together a hundred times before. Students turned their heads as they passed, some out of curiosity, others with barely-contained stares—after all, it wasn't every day you saw a duo that looked like they'd walked straight out of two completely different worlds. They moved with a kind of quiet purpose, the buzz of conversations and footsteps around them fading slightly as they approached their destination.
When they reached the classroom, the door already propped open with the familiar scrape of a worn doorstop, they were greeted by a familiar and comforting presence—Martin. He stood casually near the back row, leaning against a desk with the kind of laid-back ease that came naturally to him. His hair, a striking shade of platinum that shimmered almost silver under the harsh fluorescent lighting, framed his face in soft, tousled waves. He wore an oversized hoodie that practically swallowed his frame, the sleeves falling past his wrists, and the fabric slightly bunched at the hem where his hands were tucked into the front pocket. The hoodie was a faded navy blue with a vintage band logo stretched across the chest, cracked from wear and washing.
But what truly stood out—what always stood out—was his smile. It lit up his entire face with an easy warmth, the kind of grin that could instantly put someone at ease. It wasn't just wide—it was bright, sincere, and infectious, the kind of expression that could fill an entire room with energy, like a sudden burst of sunlight on an overcast day. As soon as he saw them, his eyes sparkled with recognition, and his smile only grew, welcoming them like they were the last two pieces of a puzzle finally falling into place.
"Yo, Jonah! Bella!" Martin called out, his voice bursting with warmth as he waved enthusiastically from across the room. His smile somehow managed to grow even wider, lighting up his already bright expression like a sunrise hitting full blast.
"It's Bellavida for you, Martin," she snapped back playfully, her nose wrinkling as she pulled a dramatic face of disgust. Her arms crossed in exaggerated annoyance, but the sparkle in her pink eyes gave her away. Anyone paying attention could tell she was teasing—this was just how she played the game.
Martin clutched his chest as if mortally wounded. "Oof, you wound me, and here I thought we were close."
"You thought wrong," she said with a proud little tilt of her chin, but even she couldn't hold back the grin creeping onto her face.
"Either way y'all are late!" Martin pointed out, trying and failing to sound stern, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement.
Jonah gave a half-shrug, slipping his hands into the pockets of his black jacket. His tone was calm, almost lazy, but with a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. "We all are, you included. We simply missed the train."
Martin raised a finger as if to counter the point, but paused, thinking. "Touché."
"Not my fault," Bella said, arms still crossed, a dramatic frown now fully taking over her face. "I said we should've taken the other route."
"You also said the cafe shop was calling your name," Jonah added without missing a beat, glancing at her with the side of his mouth curled into a grin.
Bella huffed. "And it was! I'm just saying... if we had taken the other route after the cafe, we would've been early."
"Clearly," Martin chuckled, stepping aside to let them through. "Glad you two could grace us with your presence. The class is already halfway bored to death without you."
"Then let's fix that, shall we?" Jonah said, tossing his hair back as he searched for the seats with their names on it "Jonah Jomier" and besides his was "Bellavida Zeppeli" they slipped into the classroom like it was a stage—and they were exactly where they belonged.
---3 hours later…
"Oof… as tiring of a day as always," Bella sighed dramatically, stretching her arms high over her head as if the mere act of saying it made her feel more exhausted. Despite the complaint, her face showed not a single trace of fatigue—her steps were light, almost graceful, and her expression remained as unbothered as ever. Her pink hair bounced with every step, catching the golden light of the setting sun like strands of cotton candy.
To her right, however, was a very different picture. Jonah trudged along like a human pack mule, bags hanging from practically every limb—one strapped across his chest, another slung over each arm, and a heavy-looking one weighing down his back. His brow glistened with sweat, and though he wasn't audibly complaining, the slight squint in his eyes and the way he adjusted his grip every few steps said enough. His movements were controlled but strained, a man doing his best to pretend he wasn't slowly losing the will to live under the weight of three people's worth of stuff.
Trailing behind them was Martin, entirely in his own world. He had his phone in one hand, eyes glued to the screen, and the other swinging lazily to the beat of whatever song was blaring obnoxiously from his portable speaker. Heads turned as they passed, a few people casting annoyed glances in their direction. Martin didn't seem to notice—or more likely, didn't care.
"Can you turn it down, buddy?" Jonah called over his shoulder, his voice calm but clearly edged with social awareness. "We're not there yet."
It wasn't the music itself that bothered him—it was the volume, and the side-eyes they were collecting from every person walking past on the already-crammed sidewalk.
"Augh, I guess I could…" Martin groaned in mock agony, then suddenly burst forward, dashing ahead with a grin plastered across his face. "But make me!"
"Coward!" Bella shouted after him, laughing.
Martin turned slightly as he ran, flashing a cheeky peace sign over his shoulder before disappearing into the crowd up ahead, music still echoing faintly behind him.
"I hate you," Jonah muttered, loud enough for only Bella to hear.
Bella turned to him with an exaggerated pout. "Aw, but you're doing great, pack mule. I mean, you look like you might collapse, but you're holding it together."
"Barely."
"Consider it training," she said with a wink, then skipped a step ahead, clearly enjoying herself.
Jonah groaned—not from the bags, but from the knowledge that this walk might take more than he was prepared for.
…
After a chaotic dash through winding streets, dodging pedestrians, hopping curbs, and nearly colliding with a very angry cyclist, the trio finally skidded to a stop at the foot of Bella's so-called "house."
Jonah dropped the bags with a long exhale and stared up at the building in front of them. "House," he echoed flatly, hands on his hips. "This is a house the way an aircraft carrier is a boat."
Before them stood a grand, ivy-covered estate surrounded by ornate iron fencing, its towering stone façade glowing in the golden hour light. Wide marble steps led up to double oak doors so polished they mirrored the sky. The windows were tall and arched, each with elegant ironwork balconies, and the garden looked like it had been trimmed with scissors by a team of perfectionist artists.
Martin let out a low whistle, turning his speaker off and tucking it in one of the bags Jonah left on the floor. "Yeah, nah. This isn't a house, this is looks like a fortress."
Bella, already halfway up the steps, turned with her usual breezy confidence. "Come on. You guys act like I live in a literal castle every time we are over."
"You do," Jonah and Martin said in unison.
She just grinned.
As they stepped through the tall doors into the spacious foyer, cool air swept over them, a blessed contrast to the late afternoon heat outside. The interior was just as jaw-dropping—high vaulted ceilings, chandeliers made of what looked suspiciously like actual crystal, and floors so polished that Jonah instinctively double-checked his shoes for dirt even when he was already familiar with this house. Everything gleamed with an understated elegance that somehow avoided feeling cold or gaudy.
Within seconds, Bella's parents appeared at the top of the curved staircase. Her mother, dressed in a flowing blouse and simple linen pants, carried herself with grace, her smile warm and sincere. Her father, wearing a tucked-in polo and soft loafers, descended the steps with the ease of someone who never once had to rush for anything.
"Sweetheart," her mother called with open arms, "you're home early!"
"Hey, Mom! Dad!" Bella chirped, skipping up to greet them with a hug.
Martin straightened up awkwardly, trying to remember if this was the kind of situation where you shook hands, bowed, or just waved.
Her father beat them to it, striding forward and offering a firm handshake to each. "You must be Martin. We've heard a lot about you. All good things, don't worry." He followed "And my favorite guest, Jonah, how have you been? You look tired!"
"Ah, yeah—hello, sir," Jonah said, doing his best not to sound like he'd just jogged through a heatwave carrying a mountain of bags. "I could be better."
"Oh, it's just a house," her mother said, answering Martin in a conversation that parted from the initial one.
Martin gave a sideways glance to Jonah. "Just a house," he mouthed silently.
Bella's mom turned to them with a smile so warm it made the whole place feel less intimidating. "You boys must be tired. Come in, sit down. I'll bring out something to drink."
"Thank you, ma'am," Martin said politely, though his eyes were already scanning the room like he was in a museum and didn't want to miss a single exhibit.
As they followed Bella deeper into the palace—sorry, house—Martin leaned in and whispered, "I guess having money from three generations ago comes handy from time to time."
"Yeah," Jonah nodded, "and we're the side characters in the Netflix adaptation of her life."
Bella looked over her shoulder. "I heard that."
"Can you tell me the story behind it again? You know how bad my memory is." Jonah sad.
"My grandma got with a Married man, Zeppeli, that's where my last name comes from, then had my dad, but the guy didn't want to leave the baby alone with my poor grandmother, so he gave a bunch of money to her, and then my dad had me, and now you are stepping into my palace, you peasants." Saying the last part with a clear teasing tone.
"Now enough talking, we have asses to kick on DB Fighters Z!" She said with enthusiasm as both her companions walked with as much emotion as her to the designated gaming room, yeah, "House" …
…
"Welp, that was fun!" Martin announced with triumphant flair, tossing the controller onto the couch beside him like he'd just saved the world. On the screen, his character struck a ridiculous victory pose, completely undeserved given that Martin's signature technique involved wildly mashing buttons and hoping for the best.
Bella groaned, slumping back into the plush cushions like she'd just been through a war. "You don't even know what you're doing," she muttered, crossing her arms as her pink bangs flopped into her face. "There's no strategy. It's chaos."
"Chaos works," Martin replied smugly, hands behind his head as he grinned like a certified champion. "I'm just too unpredictable."
"Unpredictably annoying," she mumbled.
From the other side of the room, Jonah casually sipped from his drink and smirked. "Damn, that's tough, Bella. Losing four times in a row? Kinda crazy."
Her head snapped toward him, eyes narrow and glowing with the intensity of someone who was mentally calculating the cost of revenge. "You wanna say that again?"
Jonah raised a hand in surrender, but he didn't stop smiling. "Just stating facts."
Bella turned her gaze back to Martin, then to the screen, and finally to Jonah again. "Don't you have to leave? It's past eight, and if I remember right, you were just complaining about some important literature project."
Jonah blinked. "Actually… yeah. It is pretty important."
He stood up with the kind of speed that suggested he'd just remembered it was due tonight. Slinging his bag—just the one, thankfully—over his shoulder, he gave a quiet, relieved sigh. No extra weight this time, no balancing acts.
Bella raised a brow. "That's what I thought."
Martin, still lounging like royalty, gave Jonah a lazy wave. "Good luck, man. Try not to drop your laptop this time."
"It happened once," Jonah muttered, heading toward the door.
"And it was tragic," Martin added with mock solemnity.
Bella stood to walk him out, arms still crossed but her smirk back in place. "Don't forget to actually do the work instead of just complaining about it in the group chat."
Jonah grinned as he opened the door. "No promises."
"Text when you get home, or I'll assume you died under a pile of paper."
"Will do. Thanks for the food, the emotional trauma, and the third-hand embarrassment."
"Anytime," she said, smiling a little too sweetly.
"You should check on you parents too, they've been really silent today" Jonah added.
"Will do." Bella finished
As the door clicked shut behind him, Bella turned back toward the living room.
Martin didn't look up. "Wanna lose a fifth time?"
"Oh, you wish."
---Outside Bella's house in the streets of Lyon
The quiet of the neighborhood hit Jona almost immediately after he stepped outside. The air was still warm from the day, but it had cooled just enough to raise goosebumps along his arms. He tugged his jacket tighter as he walked, the soft thud of his sneakers muffled by the tree-lined sidewalk. Streetlights buzzed faintly overhead, casting long shadows that stretched and shifted with every step he took.
At first, it was peaceful. Just the usual late-evening stillness, the occasional hum of a passing car in the distance, a flicker of television light in the windows of nearby homes.
But after a few blocks, something felt… off.
He couldn't quite place it at first. The sound of his own footsteps echoed a little louder than usual. There was an odd weight to the air, as if the night was watching. Listening.
Jona slowed down slightly, his senses sharpening, breath quieting. He glanced over his shoulder—nothing. Just the usual suburban silence. But he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was there. Behind him. Keeping pace. Just far enough to stay hidden.
His heartbeat picked up.
Don't be stupid, he told himself. It's probably just your imagination. Too many late-night horror games.
Still, he shifted his backpack higher on his shoulder and picked up his pace. The tension built with every step—each creak of a branch or rustle of leaves sounded like footsteps in disguise. He turned a corner quickly, hoping to break the invisible trail behind him, but the feeling only grew heavier. Like someone was just out of sight.
Then—his phone buzzed in his pocket.
The vibration made him jump. He nearly dropped the thing trying to pull it out, but when he saw Bella's name glowing on the screen, he exhaled. A welcome distraction.
He answered, trying to steady his voice. "Hey. Forgot to trash talk me some more?"
But what came through the speaker was not Bella's usual teasing tone. It was shallow breathing. A sniff. Then her voice, small and trembling—shaky in a way he'd never heard before.
"Jona…" she paused, swallowed, and then it came, rushed out like she was trying to outrun the words.
"They're dead. My parents. They're gone."
Jona stopped walking. The air around him felt like it collapsed, crushing down with the weight of her words.
"Wait—what? Bella, slow down—what happened?"
"They were—" her breath hitched, and there was a faint sound of someone else's voice in the background. Police? "When I checked on them. I didn't find them, b—but then I found them on the floor, and there was blo—blood. I—I don't know how. I—I left them in the kitchen and they were fine and then—there was this sound—and then I—"
She broke off into sobs.
Jonah's hand tightened around his phone, heart thundering now for an entirely different reason. The street, the shadows, the eerie feeling from before—all of it vanished behind the crashing realization of what she'd just said.
"I'm coming back," he said immediately. "I'm on my way, okay? Just hang on."
Bella didn't answer. Just the sound of her crying on the other end of the line.
Jonah turned on his heel and ran, at least he tried, but was stopped. He finally found a reason for the extra weight in the air. A shape, man or woman, it was huge, at least 220 centimeters.
He didn't know for sure, but the way 'it' looked at him almost confirmed his thoughts. That thing had killed Bella's parents, and now for whatever reason was after him.
---END OF THE CHAPTER