She wasn't happy about it. But Yimi remembered what the Saint's phantom had told her.
She pushed the rat she'd just bitten to death across the ground toward them and got straight to the point:
"Trade for Corpse."
The sheer impact of a talking cat meant both of them needed a full two seconds to process what she was asking.
"...Little cat, am I hearing things, or did you just say 'trade for Corpse'?" Gyro, draped lazily across Valkyrie's head, stared at her with the expression of someone deeply unimpressed. "What are you trading with? Please don't tell me it's that rat you just pushed over here. Is that seriously the currency in your world?"
Yimi tilted her head. "Fish..."
"Cough, cough — didn't you take the fishing rod already?"
"Fishing rod?" Johnny shot Gyro a suspicious look.
"Ah — yeah, I mean. A little cat alone out in the wilderness... right?" Gyro's composure was starting to crack.
Johnny decided not to press that particular point.
But what possible value could that rat have?
Unless—
"Dani?" The corner of Johnny's mouth twitched slightly, like something unpleasant had started working through his mind.
No. A rat couldn't live that long. And even if it really was Dani — why would this cat bite it to death first and then try to trade it? And even if Dani were somehow still alive, he wouldn't trade for her. Setting aside the fact that Dani might have been the spark that led to his brother's death—
He was Johnny Joestar. A dark horse who'd faded from the racing scene for years, re-entering only to defy every expectation — paralyzed legs and all, he'd clawed his way back to a top ranking, reclaiming a reputation that carried the same weight it once had.
But the championship wasn't why he'd entered. The truth was simpler: Gyro Zeppeli had, without quite meaning to, used his Steel Ball technique to make Johnny stand — just for a single moment. Even one instant of hope was enough.
Gyro studied Yimi with genuine interest, cutting off his companion's brooding. "If a dead rat can buy part of a Holy Corpse, I could probably round up a lot of them. How many do you think it would take to buy your left eye?"
He was completely serious.
Yimi tilted her head. "No trade."
She needed that to get home.
"You're the one who brought up trading and now you won't trade!" Johnny snapped.
Yimi deliberated for one second, opened her tiny mouth, and bit down on the rat— [CORRUPTED TEXT] —crunch, crunch. Gone.
DA— NI!
Hearing Gyro's words, Yimi seemed to have grasped something about what "trading" actually meant in human society.
She flicked her tail and asked again in her unsteady, clear little voice: "What do you want?"
"Something you could never pay, pal." Unlike Johnny, Gyro had entered this race with one objective: first place. Not first or second is fine. Not top three. He had to be champion. Not for prize money — he needed to claim that victory for his country, to earn the King's pardon and save a young servant of a rebel nobleman from being punished by association.
As he finished speaking, the Steel Balls in his palm began to rotate — openly, without bothering to hide it. "So. Are you one of the President's hounds? How many fish did he offer you? I'll pay double."
"The President?" Yimi tilted her head. That term wasn't in her vocabulary.
"Not one of his? ...Well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Even a talking cat is still as innocent as a child."
"Most cats would technically be children, given their lifespans," Johnny added under his breath.
That said — given all the bewildering things she'd said when she first arrived, he didn't dare actually treat her like a child to be fooled.
"Hey. Cat." Johnny's voice shifted. "You've got more than one Holy Corpse Part on you, don't you. The Spine — that's with you, isn't it."
He had no proof. He just desperately hoped it was true.
The Spine had gone missing after a frog-shaped Stand made off with it, and no other leads had surfaced. As someone paralyzed from the waist down, the Spine was the part he wanted most. Maybe if the Saint's Spine fused with him, something miraculous could happen — just as Gyro had gained a kind of x-ray sight after fusing with the Right Eye.
"Not telling you," Yimi said.
She hadn't learned to lie yet. That answer was practically a confession.
Not that lying would've helped — Gyro had x-ray sight. He could see the Corpse Parts on her in an instant.
"Hey — Johnny!" Gyro noticed his friend's fingernails had already detached, coiling and building charge. Something dark flickered in Johnny's eyes and was gone.
"I know, Gyro. Picking a fight with another Stand User right now would be incredibly stupid."
He didn't fully trust Lucy Steel — her position made her a sensitive figure — but through her he'd learned roughly what had taken the Saint's Spine: something that burrowed freely underground and had a tongue that could extend over thirty feet (10 m) at bullet speed, piercing clean through a human body. Just hearing that description was a headache.
Johnny closed his eyes and clenched his fist. "You said trade, didn't you."
A withered hand split away from Johnny's left wrist.
"Let's trade. My Left Hand for your Spine."
"Meow?" Yimi couldn't see the logic. She needed every Holy Corpse Part — trading one for another was a non-starter. But she didn't have anything else to offer... or did she?
Under their puzzled stares, Yimi turned and rummaged through the grass, then dropped a finely crafted red rhinoceros beetle in front of them.
"Trade with you."
Bugs were impressive. But bugs were no use to a cat.
"?"
"What is that? It's massive — where did you even catch it? Is this a Stand ability?!" Gyro's eyes went wide, though he slapped his own cheek and recomposed himself. "...Even so, trading a bug for a Holy Corpse Part is ridiculously unfa—"
"This thing?"
"Johnny?"
Gyro looked up. His friend's expression had shifted.
"You recognize it?"
"No. But I have this overwhelming urge to have it." Johnny pressed a hand over his heart.
[Kabuto Zecter · Easy Mode] — First line of description: Irresistible to boys.
Johnny worked to steady himself and whispered to Gyro: "I don't know if this is a Stand ability designed to lure me in, or something else. But it feels like something is telling me this thing can make me walk again."
Even he could feel the pull of it — which made him suspicious. What kind of Stand worked like that? Looking closely, the beetle wasn't a living creature. It was crafted precision — the kind of workmanship only a master engineer could produce — and the way its wings fanned open added another layer of mystery.
But he had no proof. Nothing to justify the belief that this beetle could do what the feeling promised. He didn't even know what it was.
...No. This cat had told him, hadn't she.
"Nothing is perfectly fair. What you need most costs the most."
She meant he needed this.
Johnny stared at the beetle. Only someone who truly couldn't walk knew how much that absence cost.
He looked at Yimi. "Little cat. Can you guarantee this will let me move?"
Even as the words left his mouth, he knew the answer: that pull had already beaten his better judgment.
"Meow?" Yimi looked puzzled.
"...I accept the trade. My Left Hand Corpse Part for this unidentified beetle."
"Johnny..."
It was the kind of risk no outsider could understand. If the beetle turned out to be a toy or a Stand construct, he'd come out of this badly burned.
What he hadn't expected was for Yimi, sprawled on the ground, to look dissatisfied. She fixed her gaze on Gyro's Right Eye and made a demand that pushed every limit of reason.
"Two."
"...What?"
"Two. For one." Yimi spelled it out in short words.
"You've got to be joking—"
"Forget it, Johnny. I couldn't care less about some Holy Corpse Part." The Saint's Eye had shifted into his palm — no one had seen when it happened. "We both let go at the same time. Deal?"