New York International Airport never slept. Even at that hour, announcements echoed through the loudspeakers, suitcases scraped endlessly across the floor, and travelers hurried past, each wrapped in their own urgency. Amid that everyday chaos, an entire crew moved with almost ritualistic care. This was not just another location-it was the final stage of Battle Tendency.
For Alex, choosing the airport had never been a coincidence. It was a place of passage, of farewells and movement forward. The perfect setting to close a story built on encounters and separations.
Among everyone present, Mark stood out the most-though not intentionally. His once-dark hair had been dyed a dull, ashen gray. The aging makeup carved deep lines into his face, added subtle blemishes to his skin, and transformed his expression entirely. A thick beard completed the illusion. More than that, his body had absorbed the role: a slightly hunched posture, slower steps, and eyes heavy with a fatigue that went beyond acting.
He was Joseph Joestar.
"Ow…" he let out softly.
A distracted tourist had slammed a rolling suitcase straight into his ankle. Mark reacted instinctively, bending over and clutching his foot with both hands. The groan he released was so convincing that several nearby passengers slowed to look.
"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry-are you okay, sir?" the young man asked, scratching the back of his head, clearly flustered. "But… you were standing right in the middle of the way too…"
Joseph lifted his head slowly, took a breath, and smiled with almost paternal kindness.
"It's fine," he said, waving a hand. "Everyone makes mistakes sometimes."
The tourist exhaled in relief and took a couple of steps away.
"Wait," Joseph called, his tone subtly shifting. "Are you from our country?"
"Huh? Yeah, I am. Why?"
The change was instant.
Joseph grabbed the man's shoulder with strength completely at odds with his apparent age and, before he could react, delivered a sharp kick to his ankle. The scream echoed through the terminal, drawing shocked looks from every direction.
Joseph picked up his suitcase and walked on, muttering loudly as if speaking only to himself-yet loud enough for everyone to hear:
"My only daughter was taken to the other side of the world… almost twenty years now. My grandson doesn't even recognize my face anymore."
"Unforgivable… absolutely unforgivable! Those bastards who stole my daughter from me!"
The silence that followed was broken by a firm voice.
"Cut!"
Alex stood up behind the camera, his smile restrained but unmistakably satisfied.
"Excellent. That's perfect. Battle Tendency is officially wrapped."
For a moment, no one moved.
The word "wrapped" felt too heavy to settle immediately. As if everyone needed a few seconds to understand that this wasn't just the end of a shooting day-it was the end of an entire journey.
Mark was the first to give in to exhaustion. He sat down directly on the cold airport floor, ripping off the fake beard with a long sigh. Bruce Walts and Jack Creed soon followed, dropping beside him without a care for appearances. Shoulders were rubbed, legs stretched out, joints cracked freely.
"Never again," Jack muttered, staring up at the high ceiling. "Never taking a role that demands poses like that again. My bones weren't built for it."
The complaints came, but none carried bitterness. If anything, they were filled with pride.
They all knew it.
This hadn't been an ordinary project.
Alex stayed silent for a few seconds, eyes fixed on the now-dark monitor. There was no nostalgia in his gaze-only analysis. Every decision made, every adaptation, every risk taken had to hold up not just as a standalone work, but as part of something larger.
JoJo was no longer an experiment.
It was a commitment.
"Alex…" Mark called, his face now clean of makeup. "This story… it's not over yet, right?"
Before that final airport scene, the cast had filmed two unsettling moments: hands rising from the sea to retrieve a submerged coffin, and, in a closed facility, a man in a black coat appearing in silence, his presence oppressive without a single word spoken.
Alex smiled-a short, contained smile.
"It's not over," he said. "Next part… I'll be stepping in myself."
Mark didn't respond right away.
As he looked at his reflection in the dark glass of the terminal, he realized something of Joseph still lingered within him. A man who laughed loudly, made mistakes, exaggerated everything-yet hid deep losses behind sarcasm. Portraying him had been harder than any fight or absurd pose.
Joseph Joestar was loneliness disguised as humor.
And quietly, Mark realized he understood that far more than he wanted to admit.
Maybe that was why letting the character go felt so heavy.
Soon after, the cast gathered for an impromptu photo in the terminal. No staged poses, no glamour-just real exhaustion, genuine smiles, and the shared feeling of having crossed something intense together.
The photo was posted.
Within minutes, it began circulating through forums and communities. It wasn't striking because of aesthetics, but because of what it conveyed: wear, commitment, absolute dedication.
Projects like that were never forgotten.
On the other side of the world, a press conference was underway for Swords of Destiny. Between questions and flashing cameras, one name surfaced again and again.
Alex.
"Forty-four billion?" Melissa exclaimed, genuinely stunned. "How much interest would that earn in the bank every month?"
The silence that followed was uncomfortable. Emily covered part of her face, incredulous. Others looked away, but no one could ignore the weight of that number.
Forty-four billion.
Meanwhile, director Hélio Barsi maintained a stiff smile, feeling his own press event slipping out of his control. When asked about competing with JoJo during the same release window, his face went pale.
There was no honest answer to that question.
At this point in the industry, no one dared claim they didn't fear Alex.
"Just to correct you," Melissa added casually, "it's not 'Dio Dio.' It's JoJo."
The hall fell silent once more.
That same night, in a hotel room overlooking the glowing cityscape, Alex stood by the window, watching New York below. Battle Tendency was finished. Bleach was dominating the world.
And JoJo…
Was only just beginning.
What came next would no longer be adaptation.
It would be a direct confrontation with the industry.
Alex smiled calmly.
It was exactly where he wanted to be.
________________________________________________________________________________________
If you like transmigration stories in the Naruto universe but you're tired of protagonists who instantly become overpowered, "King of Useless Arts" is a genuinely refreshing surprise.
The setup is tense right away: the main character transmigrates into the Hidden Leaf and becomes an Uchiha, with the Third Shinobi World War only a year or two away - meaning every day matters, and mistakes are fatal. But the real twist isn't the clan name. It's the system: the protagonist can "draw" a character and receive a random ability… and luck is not on their side.
Instead of legendary ninjutsu, the early pulls look ridiculous: Mayweather's shoulder defense, a flying cross, and later even stranger techniques like Lightning Five Whip - supposedly created by a "martial arts master surnamed Ma" - and Gong Shou Dao.
On paper, these sound like the kind of "trash skills" that shouldn't matter in a world where people throw fireballs and summon lightning.
And that's exactly why this story works so well.
The author stays consistent and fully commits to the premise: rather than "fixing" the bad pulls with sudden cheats, the narrative explores how seemingly useless techniques can become deadly when applied with intelligence, timing, and real combat logic. Even a skill mocked as nonsense - like Lightning Five Whip - is reframed into something valuable because it improves key ninja fundamentals like speed, flexibility, and hand-seal execution.
It's the kind of story that changes how you see power systems: the abilities aren't impressive because they're flashy - they're impressive because the writing makes them work. If you want a Naruto-world fic that feels different, clever, and surprisingly grounded in progression, this one is absolutely worth your time.
https://www.webnovel.com/book/34915969000303605