From the very start of his life, Jonathan Joestar-Summers knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was special. Not because he was born in the lap of luxury. Not because his mother had died when he was young, and his father had remarried a spirited young woman that had once been married to a scientist, but had left him on the day of his death, and now published novels under an alias. Not in the manner that he and everyone else on the planet were, supposedly, in their own ways, special, even those that clearly were not.
He was special in the sense that he could do things others could not. He knew things others did not. He could do things others could not. He saw the beauty in things others did not. And while much of this spirit inside him came from his mother and her musings on the world, far more of it came from his own awakening.
Where many of the youths his age were content to play aimlessly in the mud, he would spend his time reading.
If you asked the average idiot what his goal in life was, he would answer with an outlandishly stupid thing society simply told him to want. An idiot would say he wanted to be famous, or to play in some sports team, or to know the touches of a thousand women aboard a pleasure boat made of gold.
Jonathan Joestar-Summers knew better. His goals were far grander, far more beautiful, and far more likely... For he intended to achieve those goals in his lifetime, and that made all the difference.
The boy had his whole life planned out, from day one to day one billion, and it would all go exactly according to plan.
He would not waste his life and money away like his father, and he would not hide in the shadows while slaving away at a typewriter for the entertainment of fools, like his mother. No, he would bask in the sun, and lead humanity into a better and brighter future, for his life's goal was to become a scientist. Like Prometheus stealing fire from the gods, only better, because he wouldn't end up tortured for eternity. If he had his way, any gods responsible for such a cruel and unjust world would be the ones tortured for eternity, for eternity would be his.
Jonathan Joestar-Summers was distracted from his musings on his own brilliance by the sound of some idiots chanting something. “Erina's a crybaby, Erina's a crybaby!”
He looked around, and saw two idiots harassing some girl, a doll in their hands.
Sighing, the boy put his book on advanced calculus down on his picnic cloth, walking down the grassy hill and leaving its tree's shade. Being a gentleman was such a pain... He hopped up onto a wall for dramatic effect.
“I wasn't aware that you two so deeply enjoyed playing with girl's toys.” Jonathan said, smirking.
“Shit, it's Jojo.” One boy muttered.
“What do you want, idiot?” The one with the doll asked stupidly, causing the first to turn to him in horror.
An icy-hot fury overtook the boy, and he breathed in. “What the devil did you just say about my intelligence?!” He shouted, charging ahead and punching him in the solar plexus.
The boy doubled over and went flying, as if a battering ram pushed by twenty men had crashed into him, and he flew through the air like a ragdoll before landing on the ground. His friend screamed and ran away, abandoning him on the spot.
Jonathan Joestar-Summers glared at the boy on the ground, walking toward him. “You've just seen what I can do, but you don't yet know what I'm capable of. Those stories about me, what did those stories say?”
“Th-that you're inhumanly strong, and you show no mercy to anyone that wrongs you, and you like magic tricks, and-”
“And?” Jonathan asked, grabbing the boy by his shirt and effortlessly holding him in the air. “What else did they say?”
“That you're the smartest human in the world!” He said fearfully.
Jonathan dropped the boy. “Good, now give the girl her doll back.”
The boy gave the doll to the girl, shivering and sweating.
The second the doll left his hand, his back bent back, like somebody invisible was holding him and trying to break his back.
“Oh? And what do you have to say to me?” Jonathan wondered, putting a hand near his ear.
“I'm sorry!” He yelled fearfully, starting to cry.
“For what?” Jonathan asked smugly.
“For stealing Erina's doll and calling you stupid!” He sobbed.
The boy felt his back bend backwards against his will, stretching where it shouldn't have been possible, the top of his head touching his rear, the two merging together like a non-newtonian fluid.
“For making an ass of yourself.” Jonathan clarified with a smirk.
The boy breathed in twice, taking in what had happened, and he screamed, running away and tripping every five paces as he struggled to keep his balance.
“Such a pitiful creature...” Jonathan said, running a hand through his hair, smirking in a way that made her heart race.
“How did you do that?” The girl asked in wonder.
“Now, now, what kind of magician gives away his secrets?” Jonathan Joestar-Summers asked smugly. “What's the matter, aren't you scared?”
“No, I... I always loved magic tricks.”
“Oh, really?” Jonathan wondered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a perfect red rose that wouldn't have fit in there at all. “How about this one?” He asked, embedding it in her hair.
“It's beautiful.” She said, smiling up at it, and blushing. “But did you really need to be so rough with those brutes?”
“The more traumatic I make the experience, the less likely they are to do anything like this again. That ass trick will wear off tomorrow morning, and he and everyone that sees him will have been successfully scared straight. It's simple logic, really.”
“My name's Pendleton. Erina Pendleton. Who are you?” Erina asked.
Jonathan smiled at her. “My name is Jonathan Joestar-Summers.”