The instant Shintaro finished speaking, every Black Sperm suspended midair puffed its cheeks simultaneously.
Pfft — pfft-pfft!
A concentrated cloud of aged vinegar and pungent chili powder erupted from their mouths, mixing into a dense, burning mist that descended precisely onto Polnareff's face.
"Ugh —!!"
He squeezed his eyes shut on pure reflex, but the sour, burning assault pierced straight through his eyelids and drove itself into his eyeballs anyway. He clawed at his face with his forearm, and managed only to spread the seasoning more thoroughly across every surface available, which made everything considerably worse.
Silver Chariot, which did not share its user's vision, received no updated commands. The silver knight stood frozen in its last-committed stance, rapier extended, swinging blindly based on the instruction it had before the world turned into liquid fire.
Shintaro had already retreated to a clean distance. The Black Sperm cocoon had dissolved the moment it wasn't needed, every unit repositioning with quiet efficiency.
"Restrain him," Shintaro said simply.
The Black Sperm answered like water released from a dam. They flooded toward Polnareff from every angle, taking full advantage of his lost vision to pin him flat, tiny black hands locking down his limbs and throat and every joint between.
"Silver Chariot!!!"
Polnareff roared the command through sealed, burning eyes. He had no visual reference — only the last position he'd registered before blindness took him and the precise internal knowledge of a man who has staked his life on his swordsmanship.
A dazzling silver flare erupted.
Losing its direct guidance, Silver Chariot turned its blade inward — slashing violently toward Polnareff's own position without hesitation.
"Is he insane?!" Avdol's voice cracked. "Blindly attacking when the Stand can't see — if the arc is even slightly off, he'd cut straight through himself!"
Kakyoin had already gone still, his violet eyes tracking the blade's path with the focused attention of someone who has just recognized something remarkable. "This is an extraordinary level of trust in one's own technique," he said quietly.
Joseph's eyes narrowed sharply. "No — he's not trying to cut himself at all!"
The sword accelerated.
Silver Chariot swept past Polnareff's pinned body in a blinding silver arc — not touching him — and continued outward. Any Black Sperm its blade encountered vanished in less than a tenth of a second.
But its true target —
Whoosh!
The silver afterimage crossed the floor and drove the rapier with surgical precision into the still-simmering pot of mushroom stew at the center of Joseph's table.
With a delicate, impossible flick of its wrist, Silver Chariot raised the entire pot balanced on the blade. The liquid trembled at the sword's tip — wobbling, but not spilling.
Not a single drop.
The table went completely silent.
"Could he really be planning to —" Kakyoin's voice dropped to almost nothing.
"Pour it!"
Polnareff rasped the command through his teeth.
Silver Chariot's wrist snapped.
The entire pot of scalding mushroom stew cascaded down — directly onto Polnareff's own face.
The sound he made was something between a scream and a word, and it was neither.
Every muscle in his body locked violently at the instant of contact. Steam hissed from his skin. The vinegar and chili residue from the Black Sperm was washed clean by the heat — and replaced immediately by something worse.
His face swelled visibly. Several patches began to blister.
"That's insane," Kakyoin breathed. His pupils had gone very wide. "That stew was well over fifty degrees."
In the final moment before his vision had been taken, the only liquid whose exact position Polnareff had mapped with certainty was that specific pot. He hadn't looked at the tea. He hadn't clocked the water glasses. He had catalogued the mushroom stew and he had used it.
"He's being absolutely brutal to himself," Shintaro said, his own breath catching slightly.
"Hmph... keep going!"
Polnareff ground the words out through locked teeth. He dragged his forearm across his face, forcing his swollen, scalded eyelids open by sheer will. His vision was blurred, stinging, half-useful at best.
But it was there.
He staggered upright. Stew dripped steadily from his jaw, leaving dark stains across his black tank top. His expression had resolved back into something that was not quite fury and not quite a grin — something in between that was harder to look at than either.
Shintaro's voice was quiet and without cruelty.
"Sorry. But this is where it ends."
"Overdrive!"
His fist hit the ground with a golden detonation — Hamon surging outward in a brilliant arc. The marble fractured. The stone split.
And in the cracks, running in a continuous line from Shintaro's feet all the way to where Polnareff stood — a row of Black Sperm, hand-in-hand, had been waiting in the dark since the moment Silver Chariot's earlier strike had opened those fissures in the floor. A living circuit, placed before Polnareff had even broken free from his armor.
"What?!" Polnareff reacted with the speed of a man whose instincts have been trained past the point of thought. Silver Chariot scooped him bodily off the floor in the fastest evasive maneuver available — both of them rising, clearing the Hamon wave with room to spare.
"Jumping won't help you," Shintaro said. "Look at your sword hilt."
Polnareff's restored vision arrived a beat too late for it to matter.
Clinging to the very base of Silver Chariot's rapier — grinning and waving cheerfully at him from the hilt — were several Black Sperm who had been there long before the jump.
"Nani?!"
"Showtime!"
The golden current ignited through the Black Sperm circuit and reached Silver Chariot's arm in the same instant.
ZZZAP!!
Electric sparks raced across the Stand's body in a brilliant, crackling web. Shintaro's Hamon was still shallow by any master's standard — but it was more than sufficient to lock both Stand and user in a brief, full-body paralysis.
"Guh — !!"
In that frozen instant, the Black Sperm struck.
They engulfed Polnareff completely — and Silver Chariot — wrapping both in a dense, layered cocoon until only his silver-haired head remained exposed. Every muscle was pinned under a thousand tiny hands. Nothing moved.
Shintaro walked over. He crouched and met Polnareff's furious, reddened stare at eye level.
"Now," he said evenly. "Can we have a proper conversation?"
"Your Stand is impressive," Polnareff admitted, jaw tight. He glanced down at the shattered floor — marble pulverized, exposed concrete beneath, a wide gash running the length of the room. "I have to give it that."
"Not bad, Shintaro!" Joseph strode over, clapping him on the back with generous force. "You genuinely do have a shadow of my younger self. Combat talent like this from someone with amnesia — remarkable."
"He seems..." Avdol said carefully, gaze fixed on Polnareff's exposed forehead. He moved closer.
Kakyoin had already crouched, checking. "No visible damage, and no Flesh Bud apparent — same as Gray Fly." He straightened, a small crease of uncertainty between his brows. "Silver Chariot doesn't appear to be controlled."
Shintaro reached out and gently parted the silver hair above Polnareff's forehead.
A pulsating Flesh Bud throbbed near the crown of his head — nested high in the hair, nearly invisible.
"Oh!" Joseph exclaimed, his voice jumping several registers. "Why is it positioned so high? Did you hide it there deliberately?!"
Shintaro regarded the exposed parasite with a perfectly straight face.
"It probably crawled up there on its own," he said, with complete seriousness.
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