Chapter Text
It had been only a few weeks since Jotaro arrived in Morioh, Japan. A smaller town on the outskirts of rural Japan. He was already overworking himself, with balancing his current biology work and the whole ordeal with Josephs half-mistake-half-he knew what he was doing child. The most awkward part of all was when Tomoko, Joseph’s baby mother, mistook Jotaro for Joseph.
Yare Yare… how does someone mistake a 28 year-old man for a man almost triple that? Joseph was an old geezer, and he knocked up some random lady. Now Jotaro had to deal with this. As always.
Rohan approached Jotaro, waving a slight hand up and putting on his signature grin that almost screamed ‘I don’t actually wanna be here, but you’re an elder, so I should respect you’. Which Jotaro didn’t mind, as when he was a little younger than Rohan, he did the same. Jotaro inwardly cringed when he thought of his younger self. An edgy teenager who disrespected his mother. Damn, he was immature.
“Kujo-san. How might you be?” Rohan asked politely. They weren’t awkward with each other, just more of allies. Jotaro was a little uneasy with Rohan, considering he had such a powerful stand.
“Oh—“ Jotaro cleared his throat as he got lost in his thoughts about Rohan’s stand and the adventures that Koichi had told him about. “I’m just fine, thank you for asking, Kishibe-kun.”
“Just Rohan is fine. No need to be so formal.” Rohan waved off the formality, placing a hand on his hip, with the other hand occupying a small beige sketchbook that was nestled between his arm and side, with the hand holding two pencils and an eraser. “We’re friends, right?” Rohan tilted his head slightly, his earring dangling down.
“You use the same level of formality with me. I only wish to return it.” Jotaro had recently been brushing up on his Japanese before this trip, as he didn’t wish to seem like a foreigner in the place where he was born. “I do appreciate the gesture, though.” Jotaro quickly added, trying to not seem unappreciative of a nicer act from Rohan, one he didn’t see when the man was with the kids.
Rohan chuckled and rolled his eyes, glancing over at a squirrel as it fell down a tree, blood falling from its hand. He quickly pulled out his sketchbook and drew it, his hand flying over the paper. Jotaro could only raise his eyebrows and adjust his hat down.
“Yes, yes! Capture that divine pose of agony! You’re mad— you just lost the love of your life! She pushed you off a building!” Rohan spoke, his tone theatrical as he raised his pencil to add the last details.
Jotaro peeked over his shoulder to look at his sketchbook, and it was a drawing in his mangaka style. It wasn’t bad by any means, it just reminded him of another piece he’d seen.
Jotaro shook his head in return, putting his hats visor down a bit and frowning, mumbling to himself. Yare Yare Daze… He mumbled. Jotaro was having a semi-positive day (which usually meant he wasn’t being fucked over yet, so that’s good) and didn’t wish for it to be ruined.
“Oh, Kujo-san. I’ve never asked. Where did you get that earring? I just noticed it a bit ago. I didn’t even know you had your ears pierced.” Rohan turned to face Jotaro, putting away his brush.
Jotaro froze.
What earring?
“Huh?” Jotaro meant to say, but his mouth only made an ‘O’ shape. He tilted his head slightly and felt a very tiny bit of pressure on his shoulder. It was a red cherry earring. One that he took from Noriaki’s body when he died. The other one still remained with his body, as he was buried with it, that was Jotaro’s wish.
“The cherry. I didn’t think you’d wear something besides your normal three colors. It suits you though. Accents your eyes rather well.” Rohan continued to mumble to himself, some rather backhanded compliments.
“It was an old friends.” Jotaro mumbled. That’s all he wanted to give. Eleven years later, and he didn’t wish to scratch at those old scars. They weren’t even old. Fresh scars, ready to bleed. He felt like his mouth was a scar, one that would open unwillingly.
“What was his name?” Rohan asked, “I might know him.” Rohan added.
“No. You wouldn’t, Rohan. You were about 9 when he—“ Jotaro’s throat went dry. Kakyoin wasn’t dead. He told himself that every night for two years after Egypt. Kakyoin wasn’t dead. Avdol wasn’t dead. Even that damn dog. Iggy wasn’t dead. None of them were dead. Jotaro still couldn’t admit they were. They were just- visiting other countries.
Kakyoin always said he wanted to go to Paris. Famous artists go there. Avdol would go to Russia. He always said he liked the cold weather, along with their culture. Iggy would still be with Polnareff. They were all happy, healthy, and alive.
“Died?” Rohan snapped Jotaro out of his spiral about them living. Jotaro’s throat unlocked for even just a moment, quickly nodding.
“Yeah. Eleven years ago. He is an artist like you. Has a similar art style. I don’t think he wants to become a mangaka though. Maybe.” Jotaro spoke of him like he was still alive. Why did he always do that?
“Hm. You’ll have to show me his work sometime, If you have any.” Rohan followed along with Jotaro’s present-tense nonsense.
“Yeah… Yeah. I will. I probably still have a piece with my stuff.” Jotaro knew he did. But was he ready to show such a personal part of his life? It was a piece of him. From when they first met. Even if it was originally used for a stand attack. He still kept the piece. It was pretty. Kakyoin insisted he didn’t, as it was a bad piece to him.
“I’d love for you to show me.” Rohan smiled at Jotaro.
“I should get going.” Jotaro quickly zipped around and walked off. He needed to clear his head. Clear it from whatever the fuck was happening. Good grief, he was pathetic. Still pretended that Kakyoin was alive.
Rohan tried to say goodbye, but Jotaro was already gone. Rohan nodded to himself.
———————
After Jotaro arrived back to the hotel building, there was a purple-haired man with a pompadour along with a short white haired man. Koichi and Josuke. Jotaro couldn’t see them. He had a headache.
“Mr. Jotaro!” Koichi called out, and Jotaro quickly used his stand to hit him to the side. He did it lightly, trying to not injure the boy, though. He was just a kid.
“Bugger off.” Jotaro mumbled, talking through his teeth.
Koichi’s eyes were wide, and he quickly put his head down, letting Jotaro enter the building.
Jotaro quickly got back to his hotel room, looking out the window and seeing the nice view of Morioh. He suddenly got a ringing sound from his Nokia, pulling it out and raising it to his ear.
“Kujo Jotaro speaking.” Jotaro said coldly, and Rohan’s voice played from his ear.
“I’d like to see his pieces.” Rohan spoke, his creepy smile almost audible from the phone. Jotaro hummed in approval and went to his suitcase, retrieving the painting of himself. Jotaro sent the number— Rohan’s number, which still hadn’t been saved in his contacts, as he didn’t have time— a photo of the painting. Rohan gasped.
“Is this Nori Kay’s work?” Rohan asked, humming and giggling at the painting. “A painter in France. Oh- but- was your friend Nori Kay?”
Jotaro raised an eyebrow. Nori Kay? That name sounded oddly like Noriaki Kakyoin.
“Show me some of Mr. Kay’s work.” Jotaro spoke.
Rohan went to his camera roll, scrolling through it a bit and pausing at some of the paintings, making a ‘Hmmm’ sound to himself, then deciding one.
Rohan sent over a photo of an angel with dark hair, and its clothes torn. There was knives pressing against its back, many of different shapes and sizes. Jotaro nodded, not really understanding what he was looking at.
Then Jotaro’s eye caught something. In the reflection of the uppermost knife, there was a blonde haired man. —Dio?! Jotaro stepped back, then looked closer. He was seeing things, as the blonde haired man was actually a brunette. Jotaro sighed to himself, shaking his head.
“Beautiful.” Jotaro commented, not sure what else to say. An artist would compliment the brushstrokes, the tiny details. Jotaro, though, was no artist. Kakyoin was. Kakyoin was everything Jotaro was not.
Fuck, I’m edgy. Jotaro thought, I’m acting like my teenage self. Except if I was more insecure. Jotaro chuckled to himself in his mind. Sometimes I wish I was.
Rohan talked a bit about the beauty behind this painting, and Jotaro wasn’t really paying attention to his speech. Jotaro occasionally listened in, but why would he care about one specific hatching technique on this specific blade. He couldn’t even tell what Rohan was talking about. Hatching, brushstrokes, water, etc. Rohan just continued.
“Can you stop? You’re give me a headache.” Jotaro said in Japanese, then switched to English. “Good frickin’ grief.” Jotaro hung up and closed his phone, placing it in his pocket. He laid down on his bed, putting his sleeve over his eyes to block out the piercing lights.
His Nokia’s screen, which was now dimming as Jotaro was zoning out thinking about way too much, suddenly lit up with a notification from Holly.
Mother: I do hope you call me tonight, Jojo! If you have free time of course!
Jotaro’s eyes narrowed, and he threw his head back groaning. He opened the chat, leaving the Phone app.
Jotaro: I will.
Was all Jotaro typed. Because what else do you say to your mother who most definitely will cry if you don’t answer? Holly probably would. Joseph always urged him to call his mother, as she was scared of Jotaro leaving her half of the time. Which was odd, as he moved out a long time ago.
“Only a few weeks and I’m already tired of this place.” Jotaro mumbled in English. English felt more comfortable on his tongue than Japanese anymore. Which Joseph— even though he wasn’t Japanese, wouldn’t approve of.
Jotaro sighed and took out his earring, staring at it in his hand. There was a slight crack in the center, a hole looking scar. Jotaro balled his hand up in a fist. The earring could take it. The cherry could always handle problems better than him.
Kakyoin… it would’ve never been boring with him. Never annoying either.
Oh Kakyoin.
Oh how I miss you.
END OF FIRST CHAPTER