After leaving Trattoria Trussardi, Yasuho used Paisley Park with practiced ease.
She didn't know where she wanted to go. She just needed to not see any of them for a while—Inori least of all.
She needed time to sort through these memories. She needed to be alone.
—Yasuho Hirose. That's my name. But what on earth happened to me?
Her name was Yasuho Hirose. An ordinary girl who'd grown up in Morioh. She had an older sister named Ayana and a younger brother named Koichi. Their father was often away on business trips, but their family was happy. Life was good.
Except that now, another "Yasuho Hirose's" story had flooded into her mind.
A girl born into a broken home. Her parents divorced early. Her mother worked at a bar and came home drunk every night. Unlike other children, she'd never known what it felt like to be sheltered. She grew up, had one relationship, and was haunted by a childhood friend who wouldn't stop clinging to her. And then, one day, she found a boy buried in the earth.
His name was Josuke Higashikata.
A boy with no past. She was the one who'd given him his name—because he reminded her of a dog she'd once owned, a dog also named Josuke.
Despite everything, Yasuho resolved to help him and his mother, Holy Joestar-Kira.
—That day, I reached down and grabbed his hand as it stuck out from the dirt. But the truth is... the one being saved was me.
—I am Yasuho Hirose. I have no brother. No sister. Not even a father.
—But I have someone I love. His name is Josuke. And I have a goal I'll see through no matter what—to cure Holy-san with the Locacaca fruit.
"But then... why am I here?"
She gazed at the darkening sky. The sun had dipped westward, pouring a wash of gold tinged with persimmon-red across the road, stretching her lonely shadow long behind her.
"This is Morioh too, but it's 1999... The boy here is also named 'Josuke,' but he isn't Josuke. What is going on?"
—It's all too much. I can't make sense of any of it.
It was like waking abruptly from a long, long nightmare and not knowing whether this was reality or just the next layer of the dream. She needed more time to untangle the two sets of memories. Fortunately, she could tell which was real—the memories unlocked by the dumpling were rich with detail, vivid in a way the others weren't. Those were the genuine ones.
The memories of this world, by contrast, felt like a movie set. A script forced onto her that fell apart under the slightest scrutiny.
The Josuke at the restaurant had said the chef's Stand could heal ailments. She'd eaten his food, and it had restored these memories. If a Stand like that existed in her own world... could it cure Holy-san?
—No. Now isn't the time for that.
"Why am I even here? I can't remember when it started."
Yasuho stared at the brilliant clouds on the horizon and sighed.
She lowered her gaze—and a chill crawled up her scalp. There, in her own shadow on the ground, she thought she saw a pair of eerie red cat-like eyes staring back at her.
She rubbed her eyes in a panic. The eyes vanished. The shadow was just a shadow. Everything she'd just seen might have been a hallucination.
—Something isn't right.
—There are no coincidences. I must have been brought to this world for a reason. I have to find a way back—Josuke and Mom still need me!
Yasuho clenched her fists with resolve. But that resolve dimmed in the very next breath.
"Where am I? Paisley Park, where did you take me?"
(③)
Getting lost in Morioh should have been impossible—she'd been born and raised here. But this wasn't the Morioh she knew. The neighborhood was entirely unfamiliar.
All she'd wanted was somewhere she wouldn't run into Inori, and her shameless navigator had dumped her here.
With an irritated sigh, she decided to retrace her steps.
Inori was a remarkable girl—powerful Stand abilities, and she seemed to care about Yasuho more than ordinary friendship would warrant. If Yasuho told her everything, she'd believe it. Together, they could work on unraveling the mystery of how she'd crossed between worlds.
With that thought, Yasuho turned around—and walked straight into a man in a suit.
"Sorry! Sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going—I'm so sorry!"
She apologized profusely, ignoring the ache blooming on her forehead.
"..."
The man seemed frozen. He didn't speak.
Yasuho looked at him uneasily. A salaryman, maybe early thirties. A weary face, but something unsettling behind his eyes.
"It's fine."
He uttered a single terse reply and walked past her.
—Was that my imagination? I could've sworn he smiled just now...
Yasuho was puzzled, but didn't dwell on it.
What happened next, though, stopped her cold.
(③)
Down the narrow side street the man had come from, a boy in a little yellow cap stood clutching a video camera, his gaze trained intently on the departing figure. Any girl's first instinct would've been stalker—but Yasuho could clearly see that the camera wasn't aimed at her. It was pointed at the man walking away.
"Hey, kid—are you secretly filming that guy?"
Curiosity got the better of her. She crouched down and asked.
The boy slowly raised his head. His young face held a pair of eyes far too serious for his age. He gave a small nod, then answered coolly:
"It's not secretly filming. This has nothing to do with you, Onee-san. Please leave."
His target was about to round the next corner. The boy pulled his cap lower and took off along the storefronts in pursuit.
...What a strange kid.
Yasuho's confusion only deepened.
His features bore a passing resemblance to the man's—father and son, maybe? Had the mother sent him to gather evidence of an affair?
Whatever. None of my business. I've got enough of my own problems without worrying about someone else's.
She was about to head back to the restaurant when Paisley Park materialized again. This time it projected itself onto the glass of a nearby clothing shop window.
It raised one hand and pointed in the direction the boy and his father had gone.
—You want me to follow them?
Paisley Park's navigation could be baffling, but it was never wrong. Had it guided her here specifically to cross paths with these two? Could they be connected to who she really was?
Yasuho swallowed hard, her teeth pressing into her lower lip.
She didn't need to overthink this. She knew better than anyone what Paisley Park was capable of. If she wanted answers, she had to trust it.
—Follow them!