The night was settling in.
The living room hummed with the quiet exhaustion and peace of a day winding down.
Locke was taking stock of the baby supplies.
By his mental calendar, it was time to check the diaper stash.
But…
As his fingers brushed over the diaper storage box, he froze.
He rummaged through it again, disbelief mounting, then his face went pale, and he sucked in a sharp breath.
"Hiss—!"
The sound cut through the silent living room, carrying the dread of an impending catastrophe.
At the bottom of the massive storage box lay a single, solitary diaper.
That lone white square looked so helpless in the empty box, practically screaming one terrifying truth—
Saraphiel's ammo stockpile was completely empty!
Locke whipped his head toward the crib, his eyes wide with "we're in deep trouble" panic.
"Dad, hand it over already," Dio said, pinching his nose.
He stood by the crib, his expression as serious as if he were defusing a tiny C4 bomb.
Right now, he was channeling The World.
"Dad? The diaper!" Dio said, annoyed.
"…"
Locke silently passed it over.
Dio shot him a suspicious glance but quickly got to work changing Saraphiel's diaper.
After a winter break's worth of practice, he deftly used his Stand's massive fingers to perform a jaw-droppingly precise operation.
With near-surgical accuracy, he swapped out the diaper smoothly, no fuss, no awkwardness.
The little guy lay there calmly, his big, dark eyes curiously watching his older brother.
"Dio…"
Locke's voice carried a faint, sheepish chuckle as he rubbed his hands together, sidling up to his son with a shifty look.
"So, uh… Saraphiel's strategic reserves might be… running a bit low?"
"I forgot to restock."
Dio didn't even look up, just used The World to toss the dirty diaper into a trash can across the room.
He let out a cold huff, his voice dripping with know-it-all sarcasm.
"So? What's the great dad planning now? Off to some paradise for a getaway? Haven't had enough of those West Coast beaches?"
Clearly, the kid was still salty about Locke sneaking off to the West Coast.
Locke choked on his words, his face burning a little. He cleared his throat, putting on his most serious expression.
"Get real, son!"
"We're out—completely out! Not a single diaper left!"
"Saraphiel's morning supply is on life support!"
"I've gotta head to the town supermarket right now and stock up. This is a matter of family harmony and stability!"
"You don't want to be stuck holding that Saraphiel, do you?"
Dio flicked his eyes up, his sharp, gold-red gaze sweeping over his dad's earnest face, then glancing at the empty box.
"Fine. Makes sense."
He nodded, his tone flat and unbothered.
But just as Locke thought he'd agreed to stay behind, Dio threw a curveball. "I'm coming with you."
"Huh?"
Locke blinked, instinctively looking at the crib where Saraphiel was starting to babble softly.
"What about… Saraphiel?"
"We can't exactly…"
Take him on a midnight supermarket run?
Dio jerked his chin toward the crib, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Let Star Platinum carry him."
"…"
Locke went quiet.
A Stand babysitting? That mental image was… a little weird.
But…
It could work?
And…
Locke's gaze settled back on Dio.
Under the soft light, the boy's golden hair looked almost gentle, his profile still carrying a trace of youthful softness, but his independence was undeniable.
Since Saraphiel arrived, the family's focus had naturally shifted. It'd been a while since Locke had spent one-on-one time with Dio.
Those father-son moments—where they could talk freely, even bicker—had been drowned out by the chaos of a newborn's cries.
A mix of guilt and nostalgia hit him hard.
Locke's expression softened. He reached out, ruffling Dio's soft golden hair like he used to, the gesture warm and familiar.
"Alright, little man of the house."
Locke grinned, a mix of relief and excitement in his smile.
"Let's do this. You, me… and Saraphiel with his 'personal chauffeur.' We're gonna save the Kent family diaper stockpile!"
Dio's head wobbled under the ruffling, but he didn't say anything. He quickly turned away, maybe to hide something.
But that slight, stubborn curve of his lips, the way he tried to force it flat, and the suddenly quicker steps toward the door betrayed the quiet spark of happiness he was trying to hide.
Locke headed for the door, not looking back, just willing his Stand into action.
Star Platinum gently lifted Saraphiel with the utmost care, like he was cradling the world's most fragile treasure, and silently followed Dio.
The sight of Dio's proud stride, paired with the purple Stand floating behind him, holding a curious baby, was oddly heartwarming… and maybe a little funny?
The farmer shook his head with a chuckle, grabbed the car keys, and strode after them.
"Let's roll! Target—"
"The 24-hour supermarket's baby aisle!"
---
"How can they be out?"
The cold night wind swept a few dry leaves across the empty parking lot of the 24-hour supermarket.
The Kent trio stood under the harsh fluorescent lights, looking like three statues toyed with by fate.
Dio crossed his arms, his face tight. Saraphiel, nestled in Locke's arms, seemed to sense the heavy vibe and squirmed uncomfortably.
Behind them, the night-shift clerk rubbed his hands together, offering an apologetic grin.
"So sorry, Mr. Kent."
"Uh… all the diapers were bought out by one guy. This evening, he cleared every single one."
"…"
"What's wrong with Smallville?"
Locke muttered, half to himself, half to this absurd universe.
A big-town supermarket, and not a single diaper in stock?
What, did a preschool raid the place?!
"Dad, you okay with this?" Dio asked.
"Dio, I am not okay with this."
Locke took a deep breath.
This was like showing up to New Year's without fresh underwear—pure disappointment!
They weren't giving up.
The pickup's engine roared, shattering the quiet of the small town as they sped to the next supermarket, then another, even hitting a convenience store at the edge of the next town over…
But…
Fate was stuck on repeat, like a broken jukebox playing the blues.
"Sorry, sold out."
"Some guy in a black trench coat and a top hat…"
"Yeah, he bought them all."
"Not a single one left."
The clerks' stories were eerily identical, all pointing to this mysterious trench-coat diaper hoarder.
Finally…
They stood outside the last convenience store, its pale lights flickering. The clerk, yawning, gave them the answer they'd already braced for but still dreaded.
The pickup's headlights cast a long beam into the cold night.
"Ha…"
Locke let out a short, bitter laugh, his breath forming a cloud in the frosty air.
Black trench coat and top hat, huh?
If I catch that jerk, I swear I'll…
"Dad."
Dio's incredulous voice cut through Locke's thoughts.
The boy tugged at his sleeve, pointing toward a shadow at the edge of the truck's headlight glow.
"Is that… him?"
Locke looked up, his expression hardening.
Under the dim yellow streetlight stood a figure, perfectly still.
It was exactly as the clerks described—
A sharp black trench coat, a top hat pulled low.
The shadow of the hat hid most of his face, leaving only a cold, hard jawline visible.
He just stood there, silent, like he'd materialized straight out of the streetlight's shadow.
The night wind blew.
But…
The hem of his coat didn't move an inch.
Like…
A ghost!
This guy radiated an unsettling, almost unreal presence.