Let's rewind three hours.
Kent Farm lay quiet under the night sky, until a faint glimmer streaked across the yard.
"Ciao, Grandpa Locke! Long time no see. And…" A stylish young man with an eye-catching hairstyle turned to Jonathan, a mysterious smile tugging at his lips. "This must be Grandpa Jonathan, right?"
"Jotaro?" Locke squinted, sizing up the unexpected visitor.
Compared to the gangly teen from five years ago, this Jotaro was clearly more mature. But… the worry in those eyes hadn't faded one bit.
"Sorry for dropping in like this," Jotaro said, standing straighter, his expression turning serious. "But we didn't have any other choice, Grandpa."
He took a deep breath, pale lips parting as if a massive burden was about to spill out.
But Locke cut him off, raising a hand in a gentle, calming gesture.
"Hold off on that for now."
His voice was low and steady, carrying a reassuring strength.
He stepped aside, clearing the way to the warm, glowing house, his tone as casual as if he were welcoming a long-lost nephew. "Let's eat and talk."
"There's blueberry pie in the kitchen, still warm from your Grandma Martha's baking. She always says it's a tad too sweet, but I think it's just right."
He paused, his gaze flicking over Jotaro's grass-stained, travel-worn clothes, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "Whatever's coming, no matter how urgent, it can wait for a bite."
Jotaro's cheeks flushed slightly.
Was Grandpa hinting at that steak incident last time?
"As long as you don't spill everything like a bag of beans again…" Locke said, a faint, nostalgic smile curling his lips. "You're sticking around longer than a cup of tea this time, right?"
Caught off guard by this warm, down-to-earth concern, Jotaro blinked. The tension in his shoulders visibly eased.
"You're impossible, Grandpa," he said, shrugging. The sharp, urgent glint in his eyes softened, tinged with a mix of fondness and exasperation.
Finally, he nodded, as if shedding some invisible weight. "Alright, let's eat first."
He followed Locke into the living room, filled with the aroma of food and soft light, his trendy vibe clashing with the rustic Kent Farm charm.
Jonathan, meanwhile, stood frozen on the porch, the evening breeze ruffling his graying hair.
His face screamed confusion, like he was stuck in a whirlwind of "Who am I? Where am I?" trying to process "future person," "grandson," and "donut-shaped alien" all at once.
He watched Locke lead the strange young man to the dining table, casually grabbing an extra set of dishes from the cupboard, as if this were just another family supper.
About twenty or thirty seconds passed before Martha's surprised but warm greeting echoed from the living room, followed by Jotaro's polite, faintly accented response. Jonathan snapped out of his daze, as if pricked by a needle.
He rushed into the living room, nearly tripping over the rug.
His voice, spiked with disbelief and a touch of panic, cracked as he shouted at his maddeningly calm brother, who was slicing apple pie for their "future grandson."
"Locke! What the hell is going on?!"
"Explain this! Future person? Grandpa? What did he mean? And why are we eating pie now?!"
"Jonathan," Locke said, calmly placing a slice of pie in front of Jotaro, not even looking up. "Since we're here, let's have some pie."
---
Time passed in a strange, cozy haze.
In the warm glow of the living room, the only sounds were the soft clinks of silver forks against porcelain plates.
Locke, in his usual steady tone, explained to his still-shocked brother and sister-in-law who this stylish young man was.
"Dio's kid from the future?!"
Learning that this poised, well-spoken young man might be their grandson—the legacy of the Dio Kent they'd watched grow up—Martha covered her mouth, her eyes shimmering with disbelief and warmth.
She studied Jotaro's face, searching for familiar traces, trying to connect this young man with the memory of the blond boy who used to cry in her arms.
That boy, now a father in some distant future.
A strange, cross-time bond brought a lump to her throat.
Jonathan's reaction was more… direct.
He gasped, only to choke on a bite of apple pie, coughing until his face turned red.
Martha gently patted his back, her gaze still fixed on Jotaro.
"I can't believe… in that world, we…" Jonathan managed, catching his breath. His eyes flashed with lingering fear and realization, his brows knitting together.
The air in the room seemed to thicken.
Martha stopped patting, stepping forward to take her husband's rough hand in silent support.
After a moment, Jonathan turned to his brother, his voice tinged with relief and frustration. "So, it's about that night, isn't it? That chaotic night?"
"Yup. The one where you thought the IRS was coming for us, sent everyone into a panic," Locke said, sipping his coffee. "Though, to be fair, a mechanical monster decided to crash the party too."
Jonathan's mouth twitched, ending in a long, exasperated sigh.
He rubbed his face hard, as if trying to scrub the overwhelming truth from his mind.
But relief won out.
Because here they were, eating pie, marveling at this wild twist of fate.
In Jotaro's world, though…
"Grandpa Jonathan, Grandma Martha," Jotaro said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin after delicately nibbling his blueberry pie.
He looked up, his young face carrying a complex smile that didn't quite match his age, breaking the heavy mood. "You don't need to dwell on a future that hasn't happened."
He chose his words carefully. "Technically, I'm not exactly a 'future person' as you'd think."
His gaze drifted to Saraphiel, who was focused on his apple pie, only half-following the grown-up talk. A flicker of wistful emotion passed through Jotaro's eyes.
"In the world I come from," he said, pausing to find the right words, his gaze settling on Locke, "I didn't get the chance to have… a young uncle like this."
Locke's face darkened, catching the teasing edge in Jotaro's tone, but he nodded, unsurprised.
He leaned forward, fingers tapping the table, steering the conversation to its core. "So, what are you saying?"
Jotaro nodded, his expression growing serious. "Back then, we thought it'd be simple—naive, even."
"We believed that with the Speed Force, mental strength, and the power of the Kent bloodline, we could pinpoint that critical moment, travel back, and change one thing. Like flipping a switch to steer the train away from a dark future onto a brighter track."
"But…" His voice carried a hint of regret for their past arrogance. "It didn't go as we imagined."
His tone deepened. "When we realized history hadn't changed at all, we started to understand that time doesn't work that way."
"It's not a tree with endless branches waiting for us to pick one."
"Each universe's timeline is more like…"
He lifted his head, his gaze sweeping over everyone before returning to Locke, delivering the truth deliberately: "A single, solid stream. Unshakable unless acted upon by immense power, and nearly impossible to rewrite."
"We didn't actually 'go back' in time."
"Using the unique resonance of our bloodline, we ended up in another…"
He gave a wry smile, as if resigned to the absurdity of it. "Universe."
"One so similar to ours, but vibrating at a different temporal frequency."
"To borrow Mr. Barry's explanation," Jotaro said, raising his voice slightly to clarify the mind-bending concept for his not-so-science-savvy audience, "it's like these two Earths were born simultaneously in nearly identical universes!"
"They're like two tuning forks, humming similar notes but vibrating at different frequencies."
"That fundamental difference keeps them apart, forming two parallel existences."
Seeing the blank looks on Martha and Jonathan's faces, he summed it up simply: "Basically, our two Earths—life, customs, history, even the evolution of language—are almost identical. In theory, that's what you'd call…"
"A parallel universe."
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