The Cry Of A Mockingbird •Dio Brando X Reader•

•Two•

When you arrived at the school building, an old run-down factory that had a few desks with a hag of a woman teacher who volunteered her ‘precious time’ to teach the kids basic math, you saw the small girl sitting on the steps, doodling on a sheet of paper. 

“Samantha!” You exclaimed, rushing towards the bleach-blonde child. “Thank heavens! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine! I was waiting for Helen, but she left I think,” Samantha replied, standing up and putting her notebook back in her cloth bag. You took it from her and slung it over your shoulder, before picking the girl up and placing her on your hip. 

“Yes, I know. Helen is at your father’s house,” You said as you began to walk away. “Did the teacher not wait on you?”

“No, she went home a long time ago. Said she had to water her cats, she did. Do you water cats, Y/n?” Samantha asked, with a small tilt of her head. “Is that how they grow? Oh, Y/n, I have to water the orange cat that plays in the cans!”

“That’s not how that works, dear,” You chuckled as they entered the market. “You don’t water a cat like you water a plant. They grow just like you do. They have to eat and drink so they become big and strong,”

“And fluffy!” Samantha giggled, taking your hand as you placed her on the ground. You laughed. 

“I don’t think you need to be fluffy, Samantha,” You said, leading her towards the bakery. 

“Are we having dinner tonight?” Samantha asked as you opened the door to the bakery. 

“Yes. I have enough for a few loaves of bread. I’m going to get some cheese as well,” You replied as you searched through the bread. Once you found the correct type, you brought it to the counter and placed the right amount on the counter. The man looked you up and down. 

“Cute girl you’ve got there,” He said, glancing down at the blonde girl. Samantha gripped your pant leg as she hid behind your legs. “She your daughter?”

“No,” You said. 

“Sister?”

“Does it matter?” You asked, taking the paper bag and then taking the small girl’s hand again. “Good day,”

“Hold on a second, what’s ya got in that bag?” He asked, pointing to Samantha’s school bag that was tossed over your shoulder. 

“Book, pencils, and paper. Now, I have other things to do. Please, excuse us.” You pushed open the door and allowed Samantha out before you, glaring back at the man before turning away and taking Samantha’s hand once more. 

“Y/n, why did that man ask so many questions?” You glanced down at her bright blue eyes. 

“He was just nosey is all,” You said, knowing damn well what that man’s intentions were with her. 

“Do people hate you because of what you do?” Samantha asked, gripping your hand as you pulled her into your side to avoid being trampled. 

“Some people do,” You replied. “Not everyone agrees with me.”

“My dress is torn!” Samantha suddenly exclaimed, raising her small head to look at the woman who passed by, wearing tall heels. You could see tears forming in the corner of her eyes, knowing that her mother had stitched that dress. 

“I’ll stitch it for you when you get home, don’t cry.” You said, reaching down and wiping her eyes. “Now come on. The faster we get done, the faster you can go home and I’ll give you some milk. How does that sound?” Samantha nodded and sniffled. She took your hand as she wiped her eyes with her small hand. 

“Vex!” A voice yelled out. You glanced over your shoulder and felt your eyes widen. 

“Shit!” You exclaimed, plucking Samantha from the ground quickly before you started moving through the crowd. It had been the man you’d dealt with earlier this morning. Samantha, knowing what was going on, hid in your neck, shielding her face from it all. You were chased through the market until you were backed into a corner. Literally. Your back was pressed against the far side of the alleyway, glaring at the men with murderous intent. Carefully placing the girl on the ground, you shoved her behind you before reaching into your waistband. A black-handled dagger spun in your hand as you pulled it out, the silver blade glinting in the sunlight. 

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” The man, Geoff, you believe taunted. 

“They both look like they’d sell for a lot. ‘Specially the little one ‘ere.” A second man said. You gripped the blade tighter, turning it so the sharp side faced out-wards. 

“Think you can take us do ya?” A third man said. You narrowed your eyes dangerously. 

“Hey!” A new voice yelled. Everyone turned to look towards the end of the alleyway, where a new man stood. Taking this opportunity as a blessing, you rushed forward, kicking the first man at the back of his legs. You hit him in the back of the head with the butt end of the knife, and he fell unconscious. The man at the end of the alleyway rushed inside, charging at the third man. You grabbed the second man by his wrist, twisting his hand so the pipe fell to the ground with a loud clatter. He yelled in pain as you kneed between his legs, swiping the blade across his cheek as you did. He dropped to the ground, writhing in pain. The man who had yelled was struggling with the third man and you jumped into action, slapping your hand over his mouth as you slashed your blade across his neck. As he dropped as well, you grabbed the mysterious man by his collar and slammed him against the wall, pressing your dagger under his chin. You looked him up and down. 

He was rich. You could tell by his clothing, and by the handkerchief hanging from his jacket pocket. Joestar. You’ve definitely heard that name before. The Joestar’s were the talk of the slums at one point after the Father of the family adopted a boy who’d bustled his way around when he was younger. You hadn’t heard much about him after that, though. You doubted this was the boy, seeing as he was so foolish to jump in like that.

“You shouldn’t meddle with things that don’t concern you,” You said, stepping back as you removed the blade, making his shoulders drop in relief. “One day you’ll end up like them.”

“I-i’m sorry. I-I just couldn’t let you or that little girl get hurt.” He said. “I-i’m Jonathan Joestar,”

“Well Jonathan Joestar,” You said, plucking the wallet’s from the men. “I guess I should thank you for your help. But you shouldn’t risk your life for strangers, especially if you can’t fight worth a lick.” His cheeks tinted red from embarrassment. 

“I-I guess your right. S-say, I never caught your name.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. You glanced over your shoulder at him. For a rich kid, he was awfully talkative to someone like you. He hadn’t even seemed shaken up that you just murdered a man in front of him. He was odd, that’s for sure. 

“It’s because I never gave it,” You said, picking Samantha up from the ground. 

“Oh,” Jonathan said, shifting on his feet. 

“And I won’t. I thank you for your help, but you must excuse us. I’m already late,” You slung the bag over your shoulder as you stood back up. 

“Please, I know we know nothing about each other, but allow me to walk you home,” He said. 

“You’re a gentleman, I’ll give you that,” You said, grinning at him under your hood. “But I don’t think so. I might just end up saving your hind-end again.”