Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The scratch of a sudsy sponge against a plate crusted with sauce crackles in Kakyoin’s ears. He grimaces, a shudder of disgust running through his shoulders, before remembering he’s supposed to be listening to whatever Joseph is saying to him on the other side of the phone.

Lightly rolling his shoulder in a vain attempt to adjust the hold of the house phone that’s pinned to his ear, Kakyoin scowls at the plate in his hands. Seriously, his roommate is such a slob…

Couldn’t he have at least rinsed this thing when he was done? Kakyoin sourly questions, wrinkling his nose. He scrubs the plate a little harder, the flakes of sauce giving way under the sponge’s ministrations.

“-So, I already felt bad,” Joseph croaks into the phone, and Kakyoin blinks, remembering he was in a conversation.

“Right,” Kakyoin says absent-mindedly as he leans down to slide the clean-enough plate into the dishwasher. He hisses a sharp breath as his spine creaks in protest, warning tingles of pain spreading up from the small of his back.

He straightens slowly, wary of if jumping back up to a straight position would just make it hurt worse. No new flashes of pain emerge as he straightens, but the dull ache that’s always present remains.

Kakyoin sighs before turning back to the sink, eyes narrowing at the last remaining bowl sitting in the basin.

“He’s a good kid…I know that much. I really wish I had been there for him,” Joseph sighs into the phone. Kakyoin avoids rolling his eyes at the self-pity. Did Joseph really need to call him about this?

He feels a flash of guilt over the thought, though; of course he does. He can’t really talk to anyone else, after all; his wife certainly won’t hear his woes over his illegitimate son, Polnareff is off somewhere in the Mediterranean last Kakyoin heard, Avdol is entrenched in all the work that comes with being the head of the Speedwagon Foundation’s stand department, and Jotaro…

Kakyoin’s lip picks up into a snarl unrelated to the disgusting bowl he’s cleaning, this time the dish dirtied with dried ice cream -- or was it gelato? Kakyoin can’t remember which one his roommate prefers -- rather than sauce.

He sighs but gets to work. As much of a pain as it is, Kakyoin is the most available set of ears for Joseph to chat to in terms of workload and willingness…even if he’s a good chunk of the world away in Greece.

“Apparently he’s taken to the news of me being his dad fairly well,” Joseph says, his voice shining with something a little lighter in pitch than the soft, sad wheeze it had been.

“Oh?” Kakyoin questions just to be polite, gritting his teeth as the bowl slips from his soapy hands into the warm water of the sink.

Kakyoin avoids growling audibly and instead brings his arm to his face, clenching his teeth around the fabric of his sleeve and jerking the cloth up to keep it from getting soaked.

Kakyoin then sends the hand into the sudsy depths, eyes narrowing as he tries to find the bowl again.

“Yeah…” Joseph sighs, the sound surprisingly not pitiful. Kakyoin would almost call it proud, but Joseph doesn’t know his son enough to feel pride over him. “He’s really adaptable, it seems. But it makes sense; apparently, he has a stand too…”

Kakyoin blinks.

“Does he?” Kakyoin adjusts his hold on the phone with another roll of his shoulder, pinning it more comfortably to his ear, setting his elbows against the sink’s basin.

“Yeah,” Joseph’s croaky phone replies. “Calls him…Crazy Diamond, I think?”

Kakyoin hums. Crazy Diamond… “That’s a nice name for a stand. Do you know what it does?”

Joseph sighs. “I…I know I was told, but I…I don’t…” He trails off.

Kakyoin allows him the moment to try and dig through his memories, a small seed of concern planting itself in the soil of his chest the longer Joseph stays silent.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to-”

Joseph snaps his fingers, the phone just picking up the sound over the static of long-distance. “Oh! That’s right! He can fix anything. Just a touch and things revert to their original state – even people!”

Kakyion blinks, becoming conscious of the dull ache in his back again, the nerves rolling under wave after wave of discomfort. His fingers lose grip of the sponge, hands falling lax into the warm dishwater. “Must be nice,” Kakyoin murmurs.

Joseph hums. “Yeah…”

They both stay silent for a moment.

“Oh, sorry, I got off-track,” Joseph’s creaky voice comes through the phone. Kakyoin huffs out a breath quietly before reaching down into the depths of the warm, soapy dishwater to grab the sponge again.

“He’s a good kid, is what I mean,” Joseph backtracks. Kakyoin hums as he grabs hold of the bowl again, gently fishing it out of the sink, water sloshing as he pulls it out. Kakyoin blinks at it; it seems the soak in the water did it well, as most of the ice cream stains are gone, now.

Swiping around the rim of the bowl with the dripping sponge, Kakyoin tunes back into Joseph’s venting.

“Basically, I already felt bad about not being there…but now his grandfather is dead too. His funeral was yesterday…or what it the day before? Japan is pretty far ahead of New York’s time zone…” Joseph rambles in a soft, breathy tone that comes out creaky from a throat worn out after a lifetime of use.

Kakyoin’s brow furrows, absent-mindedly setting the bowl on the counter rather than risk bending to put it in the dishwasher again.

“Poor kid…” Kakyoin murmurs, bracing his elbows against the brim of the sink again before leaning his weight on them. “That’s a lot of changes in a short period of time. Didn’t he also just start his first year of high school?”

Joseph sighs, a burst of static coming through the phone’s speakers. “Yeah. I feel so bad…he shouldn’t have gotten caught up in stand business…”

Kakyoin blinks, fingers curling against his palms. “Wait, what? What stand business?”

Joseph sighs again. “Well, when the news about Josuke came out, I used Hermit Purple to get a spirit photo, if just to check in on him…but I saw- I saw…something concerning.”

Kakyoin huffs out a breath; he already knew this part, but… “Okay…”

“So, that was part of why I sent Jotaro to Morioh to meet Josuke in my stead…he was also sent to take care of any trouble.”

Anger is a strange emotion. It usually burns, usually starts from the stomach as a glorious wildfire before using one’s blood as a trail of gasoline; but this time, Kakyoin feels it start as a slow, lukewarm infestation in his chest, spreading to his stomach, down to his legs, up to his arms. It moves along more with his breathing than his heart pumping. He shivers, teeth clenching.

“What does that have to do with Josuke’s grandfather dying?” He asks, getting an idea of where this was going, but needing confirmation anyway.

“Oh,” Joseph’s voice sounds so sad, so weak, the old, crinkled texture of his tone more pronounced, and it only makes something pop in Kakyoin’s stomach, makes the anger spread faster, up to his neck, rushing past his ears. “Well, I guess Hermit Purple gave me a warning rather than a picture of Josuke himself because Josuke’s family was…is in danger.”

Kakyoin inhales slowly. “Okay, right, and wasn’t…”

His face twists into a scowl, but he tries to reign in his temper at least audibly as he says, “Wasn’t…your grandson supposed to stop that?” His voice comes out flat.

Joseph hums before he sighs. “Yes, but I guess he wasn’t fast enough…when he called earlier, he said the stand user got the jump on Josuke-”

“And why wasn’t he there himself? Wasn’t that the whole point of sending him?” Kakyoin seethes into the phone, bordering on a growl.

“Kakyoin,” Joseph warns. Kakyoin huffs and says nothing, grinding his teeth together. “…But yes, it was. Though Jotaro was right outside when it happened. He wasn’t slacking…just…” Joseph lets out a long sigh, and Kakyoin almost feels bad for letting his anger blind him to his old friend’s grief. “Oh, my poor boy, Josuke…he really is a Joestar, unfortunately, huh?”

Kakyoin hums some sort of response, but static that has nothing to do with the poor connection of the phone is starting to fill Kakyoin’s ears.

His fists clench in the water of the sink, and Kakyoin angrily jerks a hand out to pull the plug on the water, staring at his soapy reflection as the water drains. He has bags under his eyes. His brows are furrowed, the shadows around his mouth rather pronounced with how deep his frown is.

“I feel so bad…I want more than anything to check on himself myself, but-” Joseph sighs, and he sounds his age, all 79 years packed into a single sound, “but…traveling is hard for me. I wouldn’t be able to get there for a few weeks…”

Kakyoin hums, sympathetic, leaning against the phone next to his ear. “I’m sorry, Mr. Joestar,” he says, voice soft despite the lukewarm anger in his veins slowly heating up, minute by minute, like a pot setting to boil.

Joseph hums. “…This is part of why I called you, tonight.”

Kakyoin nods. “Yeah, I can guess. It makes sense you’d want to talk about this kind of st-”

“It wasn’t just to talk,” Joseph interjects, voice firmer and so much more like the old man Kakyoin knew ten years ago that it makes Kakyoin almost freeze. “I…I have a favor I want to ask of you.”

Kakyoin pauses, ribbons of surprise dancing in his chest. “Oh. Yes, of course, what is it?”

“I trust my grandson,” Joseph starts, voice still firm, but cracks breaking it apart from the illusion of his younger self, “but I- I just- I worry. Jotaro is there to focus on stands now that he’s met Josuke in my stead. So I…”

Joseph sighs and Kakyoin hums in encouragement.

“I know…I know you’re planning on going for your doctorate soon,” Joseph says, and understanding slams into Kakyoin, briefly washing away traces of the anger that had climbed him from head to toe, “but I also know you haven’t actually started yet…and it would only be until the stand business is taken care of, which shouldn’t be too long, I don’t think. Just…I’m asking if can you go to Morioh and watch over Josuke?”

Kakyoin doesn’t respond for a moment, surprise still weaving around his heart, but honor at being trusted with something so important blooming in his stomach, the petals of it almost tickling him from the inside out.

“Kakyoin?” Joseph questions and Kakyoin takes a breath.

“Mr. Joestar…are you sure? Don’t get me wrong, I’d be honored you’d entrust your son to me, but-”

“I’m sure,” Joseph affirms, “You’re a capable young man, Kakyoin. And I remember how good you were with the baby on our trip!”

Kakyoin freezes then, flashes of Death 13 and the morning following his defeat zipping through his mind, and he has to bite his tongue to avoid chuckling in disbelief.

“So you’re not bad with kids either. I know…it’s a lot to ask, but-”

“I’ll do it,” Kakyoin interrupts, fingers flexing. “I’m honored that you’d ask me. And beyond that, your grandson clearly can’t manage to do his job right on his own. Your son also means a lot to you, even if you haven’t met him…so I’d just hate for something to happen to him before you do.”

Joseph is quiet for a moment. Kakyoin’s heart is beating, and he’s not sure if it’s out of apprehension or the return of the slowly, but surely, warming anger in his system at the mention of Jotaro.

“You’re sure?” Joseph asks, tone heightening in hope, and Kakyoin knows he couldn’t say no now.

He lets out a breath. “Yes, I’m sure. Your grandson doesn’t seem to prioritize Josuke’s safety, so I will.”

Joseph hums softly at that. “You two should really talk.”

Kakyoin barks out a sardonic laugh. “You should really give that lecture to him then.”

Joseph is silent for a beat, before saying, “Okay…if you’re sure you don’t mind. I just…want to ensure he’s safe, is all.”

Kakyoin breathes out slowly. “Of course I don’t mind. He sounds like a good kid.”

“He really does…” Joseph murmurs, before clearing his throat. “Alright. Thank you, Kakyoin. Let me know if you need anything while you’re over there, okay?”

Kakyoin laughs, the sound as plastic as the phone against his ear. “I will.”

“Okay…thank you, again Kakyoin. You’re always such a good listener, and now this?” Joseph says.

Kakyoin bites back any flash of guilt over the listener part – he’s let Joseph rant, of course, but he only has the peace of mind to actually listen only half the time at most – and says, “…It’s the least I can do.”

Joseph hums, his voice as creaky as an aged deck’s floorboards. “…I’ll call the Speedwagon Foundation, then.”

Kakyoin blinks. “Wh- huh? You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Joseph says firmly. Kakyoin closes his mouth. “Besides, their sea fare is the quickest and more comfortable in the world. If you’re going to Japan on my behalf, it’s the least I can do.”

“…You don’t need to expend resources on something I’m already willing to do,” Kakyoin counters quietly.

Joseph chuckles. “Of course not. But the Speedwagon Foundation would be more comfortable with more of their people on the ground in Morioh anyway, and they also have a soft spot for me.”

Kakyoin can hear the wink in the last part of Joseph’s sentence, and it startles a laugh out of him. “Nepotism isn’t something to brag about, Mr. Joestar.”

“It’s not technically nepotism,” Joseph counters. “I was never a blood relative of Robert E. O. Speedwagon.”

Kakyoin snorts, leaning onto his elbows to give his feet a break, something his back murmurs about as he’s moving, before quieting down as he settles. “Okay, Mr. Joestar, whatever you say. Definitely not a point of interest that you have the definition of nepotism memorized.”

“ Anyway, ” Joseph huffs, and Kakyoin snickers again, something in his chest loosening. “I’ll call the Speedwagon Foundation. Great accommodations, you know? Just take it as a recommendation from an old man.”

Kakyoin stays quiet, chewing on his tongue.

“Avdol would funnel you cash once he finds out you’re headed there to help with the stand situation anyway,” Joseph comments, and Kakyoin exhales, “so it’s either now or later when you’d eventually get some SPW support. Might as well have a pleasant trip in that case, right?”

“…Fine,” Kakyoin grumbles.

“Great,” Joseph’s creaky voice says. He sounds smug; Kakyoin can just imagine the smirk on his face and the set of his sky-blue eyes. “I’ll call them once we’re done, then. They do work fast though, so you’ll probably be shipped out tomorrow…”

“That’s fine,” Kakyoin says, ignoring the ache in the shoulder that’s been holding the phone to his ear for a while now as it also strains to hold his weight. “It’s not like I’m doing anything here for myself anyway.”

Joseph hums. “Okay, then. Call me when you wake up and I’ll let you know where you need to be and when for pick up.”

Kakyoin huffs but nods before saying, “Yeah, okay.”

Silence settles between the connection as both Kakyoin and Joseph wait for - something. Kakyoin doesn’t know what, exactly.

“…Jotaro may be- surprised, to see you,” Joseph starts cautiously, and Kakyoin rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” He snorts sardonically.

“Ka-” Joseph starts, his voice sad, but Kakyoin interrupts him.

“So, it’s a good thing I’m there for you and not him then, huh?”

Joseph goes silent again. Kakyoin’s hand squeezes and releases from a fist once, twice, his fingernails digging into his palms, the muscles shaking with the pressure before relaxing, over and over.

Joseph finally sighs, the sound loud enough to lead to a burst of static. Kakyoin grimaces at the noise.

“Just…try and be nice,” Joseph says. Kakyoin chuckles once, twice, before erupting into a series of snickers. He can hear the disapproving expression Joseph must have on his face, but Kakyoin doesn’t care. Joseph certainly can’t judge him over anything, given current circumstances.

“If it helps you sleep at night, I doubt he’ll even come near me. So long as he leaves me alone, I’ll treat him with the same courtesy.” Kakyoin eventually manages to stop the snickers long enough to say, his voice colored in dry amusement.

Joseph sighs into the phone. Kakyoin feels a flair of anger, one vicious strand of white-hot stretching across his chest before it fades.

“I guess…that’ll have to do,” Joseph says. Kakyoin’s eyes narrow.

“In your own words, I’m there for your son, Joseph,” Kakyoin says lowly. “If anything gets in the way of that main objective, I have no problems moving them back out of it.”

Joseph is silent for another moment. Kakyoin focuses on keeping his breathing calm, conscious of the rise and fall of his chest. Unfortunately, making himself aware of his body brings forth a spike of pain in his back, and Kakyoin scowls.

“Okay,” Joseph finally gives in. “…Thank you again, Kakyoin.”

Kakyoin breathes out slowly. “It’s nothing. He’s your son, he’s a standuser, I’d get to go back to Japan…it’s not asking a lot, from me.”

“Kakyoin…” Joseph trails off, and Kakyoin feels a sense of fondness in-between the annoyance.

“I’m serious. You’re my friend. Friends do favors for one another,” he says.

“You’re a good kid, Noriaki.”

Kakyoin stills.

Neither of them says anything for a moment; the only sounds are the crackle of the phone connection, and the crickets Kakyoin can hear outside.

The silence stretches for only a beat before Kakyoin says, “I’ll call you when I wake up.”

“…Okay. Stay safe, Kakyoin.” Joseph’s voice crackles through the speakers again.

“You too,” Kakyoin says quietly. There’s a pause, but then there is the click indicative of the other line hanging up.

Kakyoin presses his lips into a thin line, eyes narrowing at the sink before he breathes out and hangs up himself, then places the phone onto the counter.

Kakyoin rolls his shoulders, his mouth creeping downward into a grimace when the motion makes the base of his spine ache, pain traveling in a sluggish wave. Kakyoin sighs before reaching over to grab the bowl he had placed onto the counter, pivoting to slide it into the dishwasher, too wary to simply twist his waist.

Kakyoin crouches to place the bowl into the tray, but his back protests like he had bent over anyway. Kakyoin grits his teeth as pain rushes from the spot, wailing softly into his ears, the cries ringing.

Kakyoin focuses instead on bringing the dishwasher door closed with him as he slowly stands back up again, his back crying out at every movement it’s forced to make.

Kakyoin just exhales through his nose, before clicking the dishwasher door into place.

Tapping at the controls, Kakyoin sets it to run a wash cycle, then turns back to the sink when the machinery kicks up, the synchronous sound of controlled water and soap washing over dishes overlaying Kakyoin’s ears. It makes it easier to ignore the cries of his back.

Kakyoin grabs a paper towel and dries his hands, before glancing at the trashcan in the corner of the room.

It’s only a few steps away.

Kakyoin takes one hesitant step, his walk slow like a deer creeping through uncertain territory. His back, while still hurting, doesn’t flare up in any particular pain. Kakyoin breathes out before taking another step.

As his heel connects with the worn tiled floor of the kitchen, sensation rockets up the back of his leg, getting caught in the tangled mess of nerves his lower back is now. His back cries in pain, fire seeming to spread across his waist, and Kakyoin sucks in a breath, eyes narrowing as he focuses on the trashcan.

Kakyoin tunes back into the dishwasher. The water is audibly being swirled around the dishes, sounding almost like rain, but with a trickle more similar to a stream. It’s cool in comparison to the fire of his back and Kakyoin clings to it.

Sighing, Kakyoin calls forth Hierophant, a tentacle appearing and gently wrapping around the rolled-up towel in Kakyoin’s hands. His stand’s skin is smooth with a waxy texture, and always cool to the touch; it’s another thing he clings to in addition to the audio of the dishwasher.

Watching as Hierophant tosses the rolled-up paper towel into the bin, Kakyoin can’t help the relief he feels when it goes in instead of bouncing off the rim. His face still sours at the notion, though. What a silly thing to be relieved about.

“Thanks,” He mutters, and Hierophant’s tentacle just waves before dissipating again.

Turning back to the sink, Kakyoin retreats the two steps to grab the phone again. His back grumbles with each thud of his foot against the floor, each adjustment between his hips, but Kakyoin refuses to dignify it with any attention. His back cries anyway.

Kakyoin buries his face in his hands and takes a long, long breath, his lungs stretching, the muscles tensing in appreciation. Kakyoin holds it for a moment just to keep the stretch going for longer, before he breathes out, the air getting caught in his cupped hands and warming his face.

Kakyoin stands there for a moment, very still, before he moves away from his hands and grabs the phone again.

Kakyoin drags his feet back over to the phone holder, glancing at the time the digital clock on it reads.

11 P.M…

Kakyoin exhales slowly. Time for his meds, as if his back wasn’t reminding him enough.

Shuffling to the transition of kitchen-to-hallway, Kakyoin grabs the crutches he left leaning against the wall.

Slotting his arms through the bracers haphazardly, Kakyoin hikes down the hall to the bathroom.

The metallic creaks of the crutches as they take and give Kakyoin’s weight is the only sound echoing in Kakyoin’s head other than the audible rush of blood throughout his system. His chest is cool in excitement – it’s been a while since he’s been to Japan – but his belly is stewing in something hotter, something that spills down to his legs and lets him ignore how tired they are. It’s confusing.

Kakyoin blinks as the door of the bathroom creaks while he shoulders past it. He shakes his head, his bangs brushing his forehead as he does. It almost tickles. He lifts one hand and flicks on the light, yellow overlaying his vision while he knocks the door closed with the end of one of his crutches.

Sighing, Kakyoin slips his arms out of the crutches and grips the bathroom counter. His hips are starting to hurt too, now. Great…

Gaze focused down on the gleaming silver of the sink, Kakyoin ignores the way his temples whine over staring at something so bright and shiny as he raises one hand to the bathroom cabinet, prying it open. He sees the flicker of movement in his peripheral, but he ignores the reflex to glance up at the mirror.

Pointedly directing his gaze to the cabinet, Kakyoin eyes the wall of medicine staring back at him. Everything from over-the-counter stomachache relievers to prescription painkillers Kakyoin could probably get arrested just for possessing if he had no medical reason for them all adorn the three thin shelves. Orange and white plastic bottles have been crammed together to make up for the lack of space, pill packets set on top of them.

Kakyoin sighs, braces one hand against the counter, and reaches up with the other. He’s leaning more over the sink onto his arm than he is on his legs. His bicep burns the slightest bit due to hefting most of his weight, but Kakyoin has come to enjoy the strain throughout the years.

Snatching his painkillers, Kakyoin hesitates for only a moment before placing the bottle down on the counter and reaching back up for a bottle of sleep aids.

Huffing, Kakyoin eases back on the arm he was bracing himself with and pops open the caps of the bottles. Snatching the sleep aid bottle first, Kakyoin shakes a couple of pills into his palm. Then, picking up the painkillers, Kakyoin pauses for a moment.

He shakes two pills into his hand but keeps the bottle tipped, considering.

Kakyoin stares at the reflection of the bathroom light glinting off the rim of the orange plastic. He stares at the small, oval-shaped pills in his hands. They’re smaller than his pinkie finger. His back twinges. Kakyoin’s eye twitches.

He shakes two more pills into his hand, thumb covering the instructions on the wrapper around the bottle.

Kakyoin quickly shoves his palm to his mouth, swallowing the pills down before he has time to backtrack.

Wincing at the feel of the pills sticking to his throat in their attempt to slide down without the aid of a drink, Kakyoin swallows repeatedly to help them along, putting the caps back on the pill bottles again.

Bracing one hand against the counter once more, Kakyoin shoves the bottles back into place in the cabinet. A couple of others fall from the harsh treatment, the shelves not wide enough to accommodate such force.

“For fuck’s sake,” Kakyoin mutters, jerkily snatching up the loose bottles before they roll off the counter – the absolute last thing he needs right now is to get onto his knees on a bathroom floor – and placing them back into the cabinet, motions gentler but seething.

Kakyoin shuts the cabinet door and collapses to his elbows on the bathroom counter, legs bent the slightest bit underneath him.

Kakyoin sighs, the sound coming out broken from the rocks of his throat before he blows a strand of hair away from his face.

He should brush his teeth, while he’s here.

Kakyoin glances up and catches his reflection. It’s much like the reflection he saw in the soapy water earlier; bags hang from his eyes like bats off a cave wall. His forehead shines just the slightest bit from sweat. His brows are furrowed. His hair makes him look like he’s on fire.

Kakyoin’s teeth clench and he hoists himself back onto his legs, letting out a heavy breath at the swift lift.

Ignoring how he can feel his face twisting into another scowl, Kakyoin snatches his crutches, slipping his arms into the bracers once more.

Kakyoin turns quickly from the mirror to the door, jerking out a hand to twist the knob with a turn of his wrist. The door opens, but Kakyoin’s hasty movements cause his crutch to bump into the door, closing it again.

“ Dammit-” Teeth bared in a full snarl now, Kakyoin retreats his hand, tightening his fist around the grip of his crutch with such force that his knuckles are white.

Hierophant’s tentacle appears at Kakyoin’s silent command, reaching out from him to twist around the doorknob instead, yanking it open.

Kakyoin nudges the door further with his foot before storming out into the hall, walking the few steps from the bathroom to his bedroom quietly, save for the soft creaks of his crutches. The sound echoes in his head, bouncing off the walls of his skull, drilling into his brain, just like the fleshbud once did.

All the ice of excitement in Kakyoin’s blood is now melted into something warmer, something thicker, and it’s almost suffocating. Kakyoin feels like he’s breathing in sulfuric gas. Kakyoin feels like it’s coming from himself.

Once again using Hierophant to twist the knob, Kakyoin gently kicks open his door, the hinges creaking softly in protest as it swings inside the room. Kakyoin rushes himself inside and closes the door with the butt of one of his crutches.

He sighs, his lung slowly deflating with the exhale. It helps to make the wildfire in his veins feel a little less stifling.

Kakyoin rests his head back against the door, adjusting his weight to be held solely by his crutches rather than his legs.

He takes in a deep breath, holding it in his lungs if only to feel the stretch of the organ again. He is alive, and damn does it hurt.

Adjusting his weight to lean against the door and one crutch, Kakyoin lifts one arm and wipes the thin sheen on sweat on his forehead, sighing as he does so. Gross…

Kakyoin drops his arm, hand finding its place on the grip of his crutch again. It’s clammy with sweat. Kakyoin rolls his eyes before hoisting himself back up.

Letting out a sigh, Kakyoin walks the few steps to his bed, nudging aside a couple of articles of dirty clothes that didn’t make it to the hamper. He sits down on his bed gingerly, the springs creaking under his weight. His back does appreciate being able to sit fully down, at least. The painkillers might a factor in that though.

Kakyoin sighs. Whatever the case may be, he’s just glad the cries of it have shut up a little.

He glances at the alarm clock on his bedside table. Bright, neon green letters read back 11:23 P.M. Kakyoin sighs again.

He lays down on the bed, keeping his legs swung over the side. He stares at the plain white ceiling of his room. White like his painkillers. White like the hospitals he’s been in and out of for ten years.

Kakyoin closes his eyes.

He figures he’ll pack in the morning.

The small Speedwagon Foundation cruiser slows as it nears port, which makes the rocking of the waves against the vessel more noticeable. Kakyoin is sitting in the tiny cabin, the plush seats colored a soft, bright red. It contrasts against the dark wood of the deck nicely, in Kakyoin’s opinion.

The crew of the ship moves about outside to prepare for docking, calling to each other both to banter and to give orders and confirmations. Kakyoin can’t make out any specifics, though. Boats have never been his specialty, at least not the logistics of sailing one.

Kakyoin’s crutches lay on the long bench beside him – the only bench that’s able to squeeze into the cabin. It wraps around three of the four walls of the room, with a small table in the center. Kakyoin sits facing the door – theoretically, he could look out the windows to see the shore inch closer, but he stays staring at his undrunk cup of green tea.

It stopped steaming a while ago. It’s probably cold by now, Kakyoin figures. He still stares at it as if he’s considering drinking it any moment now.

His fingers flex and relax incrementally in his lap. Kakyoin isn’t sure if he’s tired or alarmed.

There’s a knock on the cabin door.

Kakyoin blinks before he pushes his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Uh- come in.”

The captain pushes through the door, nodding his head in polite greeting toward Kakyoin. “Good afternoon, Mr. Kakyoin. We’ve almost arrived in Morioh Port – it will only be another ten minutes or so until docking.”

Kakyoin nods. “Yes, thank you.”

The captain tips his hat and Kakyoin huffs out a chuckle. “It’s not a problem, Mr. Kakyoin. Anything for a friend of Mr. Joestar’s.”

Kakyoin hums, dropping his gaze back down to his tea.

“Good luck,” the captain says abruptly. Kakyoin looks up, eyes narrowing.

“Huh?”

The captain chuckles bashfully. “Just- good luck. Joestar business is usually…messy business. So, good luck.”

Kakyoin laughs, the sound ringing in the small quarters. “Ah, yes, I guess that’s true. Thanks.”

The captain tips his hat again. “Yeah. Some of the boys will help with your luggage once we doc-”

“Ah, that’s okay,” Kakyoin interrupts, voice a little too cheery. “I don’t have much, and what I do have, I can handle myself.”

The captain eyes him, and Kakyoin huffs before summoning Hierophant’s tentacles, stretching them over to the corner where Kakyoin shoved his duffle bag when he first boarded. Hierophant dutifully hoists the bag into the air and brings it over to sit on the opposite side of Kakyoin from his crutches.

The captain jumps as the bag seems to float all on its own to Kakyoin before he laughs bashfully. “Right! Standuser. Okay then, if you’re sure,”

Kakyoin nods.

The captain tips his hat one more time before leaving. Kakyoin rolls his eyes.

“Even if I wasn’t a standuser, I could handle one damn duffle bag…” Kakyoin grumbles under his breath. Hierophant pats his knee with a tentacle placatingly. Kakyoin retrieves the stand back into himself.

He sighs, leaning against the back of the bench, his head lightly thunking against the window behind him. Ten minutes, then. Ten minutes to figure out what to say…

When Kakyoin called him the next morning, Joseph had given him a rundown of the current situation in Morioh and a warning that the Speedwagon Foundation had told Jotaro another standuser was on the way.

“I don’t think they mentioned it was you, just that another pair of hands was coming in to help on my behalf,” Joseph had said, voice a little anxious. “So, Jotaro will be waiting for you when you dock.”

Joseph probably was worried that Kakyoin would blow up at that news – which he supposes he can’t blame the old man for. However, he didn’t throw a fit.

Truthfully, he just felt numb over the prospect of seeing Jotaro again. He’s sure that’d change once he saw his face, but right now, he only mildly dreaded it. What would he say? What could he say?

He might not have to say anything. It might only take Jotaro getting one look at Kakyoin walking off the ship with crutches before he turns away with a disgusted sneer. Kakyoin isn’t sure what he would do if that happened. He’s not sure if he hopes for that, or something else.

Kakyoin chuckles at himself before burying his face into his hands, sighing.

Even after everything, he still wasn’t sure what he wanted from Jotaro. He really was pathetic.

Kakyoin takes a deep breath, holding it in his lungs, the muscles in his chest thrumming cheerfully at the stretch, before he sits back up, lowering his hands back down to his lap. Now wasn’t the time to get self-deprecating, at least. He’s sure Jotaro will do enough of that for him, verbally or otherwise.

Kakyoin glances at the crutches at his side. He wasn’t going to be able to rely on them forever – the change in elevation from Greece to Japan alone would probably cause his body to be confused for a few days, prompting need for his wheelchair. But having Jotaro see him like that…

Kakyoin runs a hand through his hair, forcefully tugging his fingers through the strands of his long bang. Some hairs pull loose from his low ponytail as a result. Kakyoin grimaces, teeth clenched behind his lips.

He’ll think I’m weak anyway. It doesn’t matter if I’m using the crutches or the wheelchair.

The churning in his stomach doesn’t ease despite this. Kakyoin rolls his eyes at his own body’s dramatics.

The ship docks minutes later, just as the captain had predicted. He pokes his head into the cabin to inform Kakyoin, but he had already picked up on the change, considering he could see the docks just outside the window and could hear the crew calling to each other as they tied and anchored the ship down.

“Mr. Ka- Oh! I see you’re already rearing to go!”

Kakyoin hums some sort of response as he stands, the handgrip of the duffle bag slung onto the grip of one of his crutches, Kakyoin securing it by wrapping his hand around it. “Sure am.”

The captain laughs again. “Well, Mr. Jotaro is waiting for you just onshore. Good luck with your mission!”

Kakyoin grimaces, his bottom lip wanting to fall down into a frown, but his top lip wanting to pull back into a sneer. “Great. Thanks.” He says flatly.

The captain laughs nervously, before leaving Kakyoin to be. He feels a little bad over the rough dismissal, but he’s more focused on preparing himself for whatever Jotaro will – or won’t – say.

Kakyoin takes a deep breath, holding it in his lungs before he makes his way out the cabin door. His steps are careful, precise; just because they’re docked now doesn’t mean the waves stopped rocking the boat, and there’s a fairly large step from the cabin door to the deck. The last thing Kakyoin wants is to fall on his face in front of Jotaro…

Kakyoin keeps his gaze trained on the ground. The less he has to see, the better. He just needs to make it to the Morioh Grand Hotel in one piece, preferably with his dignity intact.

“Mr. Kakyoin,” he can distantly hear a crewmate call, “the ramp off is just over here.”

Kakyoin nods. He feels freezing yet overheated at the same time. He musses with the sleeve of his cardigan on the bracer of his crutch while fingering his scarf with the other hand for a moment, before he continues the march off the boat, following the crewmate’s direction.

The creak of his crutches is the only sound Kakyoin can hear in addition to the gentle wash of the waves against the shore and ship. The sounds complement each other, strangely; both are soft and subtle, despite one being manmade and the other being natural. Kakyoin steps off the ramp.

At the top of his peripheral, he can see desaturated blue shoes. Kakyoin swallows. He can’t keep his tail tucked now.

Taking a deep breath, Kakyoin looks up.

An ocean surrounded by a field of snow. Jotaro’s sea-blue eyes are dreary, overcast, a storm-warning, his white coat and matching pants adding to the cold weather allure.

His eyes are weighed down by bags. His eyes are trained on Kakyoin’s face. His eyes are widened just so, just enough for Kakyoin to pick up on it like he used to. Kakyoin’s fingers twitch on the grip on his crutch.

“…Kujo,” Kakyoin finally says. His voice isn’t croaky, thank fuck. He tightens his grip on his crutches so his hands stop shaking.

Jotaro just stares at him. Kakyoin feels like bugs are crawling underneath his skin, scuttling over each other and scratching his tissues in their search for food. Maybe Kakyoin is the food. His eye twitches.

Kakyoin lets another beat pass in silence before he continues with, “Well, I need to drop off my luggage, so…”

There. A clear dismissal. They won’t need to talk anymore, at least for now. Kakyoin still feels too hot and too cold at the same time, the sweat forming on his back not sure if it wants to simply cool him off or outright freeze him. It feels like spiders crawling down his spine.

Jotaro still won’t stop staring.

Kakyoin’s face twitches, a band of white-hot iron stretching across his chest, settling his body’s debate over what temperature it wanted to be.

“What?” Kakyoin snaps, his throat ragged from the bugs digging under it.

“You have a limp now,” is all Jotaro says, his voice quiet and strained.

Kakyoin stares at him before laughing in disbelief. “I have a limp- are you serious? Ten years and I show up in the middle of a stand investigation, and all you can say to me is I have a limp?”

“It hasn’t been ten years,” Jotaro counters quietly, voice still strained and soft, as if, despite the fact they’re beginning to argue, Kakyoin would break if he raises his voice. Kakyoin grits his teeth, but it does nothing to stop his face from twisting into a snarl.

“Right. Because one phone call four years ago that lasted less than 15 minutes definitely counts. You know, I didn’t consider that legitimate for your sake, but if you want to include it, fine. Ten years and all you can say to me in that time are comments about my damn disabilities.”

Jotaro looks vaguely ill as if he’s going to throw up. His face is scrunched up and his brows are furrowed slightly. He has a grimace. Kakyoin hates it.

“Why are you here?” Jotaro asks quietly. It’s so direct that it makes Kakyoin pause. He had forgotten that Jotaro hated beating around the bush.

“I could ask you the same question,” Kakyoin scoffs. “I know how to board a bus and get to a hotel on my own, you patronizing-”

“When Jiji said they were sending someone else he seriously meant you?” Jotaro questions, seemingly more to himself than anyone else, considering how he hunches inward, voice so quiet it’s almost hard to hear over the waves.

Kakyoin blinks, the heat of anger pausing in his chest due to overwhelming shock at the pure audacity. Kakyoin blinks again, and the anger resumes, about 20 degrees hotter.

“ Excuse me?” Kakyoin asks lowly, glaring as hard as his brows will allow at Jotaro. Jotaro jumps just the slightest bit and looks up like he forgot Kakyoin was there. Kakyoin almost wants to snort at that.

“You can’t be here,” Jotaro starts, voice firm, and Kakyoin feels a flare of fire in his arms, making him twitch. If he wasn’t holding onto his crutches, he probably would’ve punched Jotaro. “It’s too-”

“Don’t fucking talk to me about my right to be here,” Kakyoin snarls, voice spiked and angry like a red-hot needle. “You don’t have a right to be here yourself, so get off your high damn horse.”

“What are you talking about?” Jotaro asks, voice tired and gravely. Kakyoin wants to punch him in the throat. “I just mean it’s too danger-”

“Well it’s a good thing then that I can handle myself just fine, thank you, ” Kakyoin hisses, taking a step forward, the creak of his crutches almost deafening. Jotaro takes a step back and Kakyoin could almost feel vindication. “Just because I don’t punch all threats away like a child doesn’t mean I can’t handle them.”

Jotaro blinks, before his brow furrows, face darkening under the shadow of his own glare. “Don’t give me that. I’m just trying to look out for you. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t need you to look out for me,” Kakyoin seethes, taking another step forward. “I don’t want you to look out for me. If you even dare to try while I’m here, I’m going t-”

“Kakyoin, you need to go, ” Jotaro insists, voice finally raising beyond the edge rumble it had become. He reaches a hand out like he’s going to hold onto Kakyoin’s shoulder or arm, but he flinches back as if burned when he consciously realizes. Good, Kakyoin thinks, exhaling sharply, don’t fucking touch me.

“You need to go,” Jotaro reiterates, and Kakyoin’s eyes snap back to his face from his hand. “You need to leave before you can get hurt-”

“And you need to leave before you get another person killed! ” Kakyoin yells, voice sharp and jagged like his throat is made of a rocky shore.

Jotaro flinches back, and Kakyoin notes this with a sick sense of satisfaction. “Wh- what-”

“The kid’s grandpa has already died under your watch,” Kakyoin continues, voice low and dangerous, like a predator lowering its body to prepare for a pounce to kill. “I am not letting anyone else die because you’re so fucking arrogant you think you can do it all by yourself.” Pounce complete.

Jotaro opens and closes his mouth once, twice, before he angles his head down and shields his eyes with the brim of his hat.

“I’m not going anywhere, especially not at your request,” Kakyoin finishes, chest heaving from fury alone.

Jotaro just takes it for a moment. He’s so still that Kakyoin can’t even see him breathe. Maybe he truly wasn’t in that moment.

“Kakyoin,” Jotaro finally says, voice so soft Kakyoin has to strain to hear it, “…go home.”

“If anyone needs to go home,” Kakyoin snaps, “it would be the person who already messed up to the point of an innocent man dying.”

Jotaro shudders once, the shiver running through his whole body before he returns to that unnatural stillness.

Kakyoin hates it.

“Kakyoin-”

“Kujo Jotaro,” Kakyoin snarls, stomping into Jotaro’s personal space, ignoring the slight whine in his arms caused by the force he used to swing his crutches forward, “Contrary to your belief, I am not useless. The Speedwagon Foundation thinks so. Joseph thinks so. I am here to help the kid and nothing more. If you say one more goddamn word about me going home, I am going to show you personally how capable I am.”

Kakyoin can’t see Jotaro’s expression, shielded by both the brim of his hat and the hand he’s using to keep it pinned down. He says nothing to the threat, just breathes quietly, Kakyoin barely catching the huff of breath past the waves and gulls of the beach.

“Joseph told me you’re trying a stakeout with the kid. Is that true?” Kakyoin asks low in his throat after a few beats of silence.

Jotaro swifts his jaw. “…Yes.”

“Great,” Kakyoin says, his voice dry and displeased despite his words, “then I am going to go with you to get this standuser to fuck off, and then we never have to talk again. But as long as that kid is threatened, I’m sticking around. Got it?”

Jotaro swallows. Kakyoin can hear his heart beat uproariously in his ears. He can hear the blood rush through his own veins. It burns like molten rock.

“…Fine,” Jotaro relents, still hiding his face, and Kakyoin rolls his eyes.

“Don’t say that like I needed your permission,” Kakyoin hisses. “But glad we can agree.”

Having said this, Kakyoin then wordlessly passes Jotaro, the only sound echoing between them being the creak of his crutches and the soft thumping of his duffle bag against his leg as it swings while he walks. Kakyoin knocks their shoulders purposefully, trying to alleviate some of the impulse he had to hit Jotaro with the action. It kind of works. Kakyoin will take it.

Jotaro stumbles back only a step from the impact, jaw clicking as he grits his teeth, but he keeps his head down and says nothing.

Good, Kakyoin thinks, but something thicker and colder than anger twists in his stomach over it.

Kakyoin walks up the beach to the road, sticking to the wooden boardwalk as he does so. He was serious about getting to the hotel on his own, after all.

Kakyoin sighs when he reaches the street, eyeing the bus stop just across from where he is as he runs a hand through his hair. This was going to be such a pain if Jotaro persisted.

Kakyoin rolls his eyes. What an arrogant asshole.

Chapter Text

“So…” Josuke crosses his arms, eyeing Kakyoin suspiciously with his trademark Joestar-blue eyes. “Who is this?”

“This is Kakyoin Noriaki,” Jotaro introduces from the doorway of Josuke’s house, voice tired and raw like it was weighed down by rocks and had to strain against a gravel road to get out of Jotaro’s throat. “He’s a fellow standuser. He’s…an old fr-”

“I’m old friends with your dad,” Kakyoin pipes up, shooting Jotaro a glare. Jotaro ignores it, but he does shut his mouth with a soft click of his teeth. “I’m here on his behalf to help with the situation going on.”

“Oh,” Josuke says, blinking, before he looks Kakyoin up and down, his pompadour bouncing slightly as he does. Kakyoin wonders what product Josuke could possibly use that keeps the hair in place while also not stiffening it to an absurd degree. “Uh, okay. If Mr. Jotaro vouches for you, I guess you can’t be with Angelo…”

At the mention of the standuser they were facing off against, Josuke’s face darkens, and he lowers his head as he turns and lets Kakyoin and Jotaro in through the door.

Kakyoin frowns at the reaction, but he says nothing as he heads inside, his crutches creaking slightly, while the soft thuds of Jotaro’s footfalls echo behind him.

The Higashikata house is a nice one, Kakyoin thinks. The entrance opens to a cozy hallway, fit with framed pictures and a shoe rack.

Kakyoin glances at the photos on the wall: a young woman with hair the same color as Josuke’s is holding a tiny version of him, both beaming into the camera, Josuke’s smile showing off his lost front tooth; a photo of Josuke at the beach Kakyoin had arrived in Morioh on, staring intently down at one of the tidepools, the lighting all wrong but the focus on Josuke sharp; a photo of the same young woman from earlier at a graduation ceremony, holding a diploma in one hand and a toddler version of Josuke on her hip with the other, smirking into the camera.

Kakyoin averts his gaze and takes off his shoes.

“So, er, do you know what’s going on?” Josuke asks as he leads them further into the house towards the kitchen.

Kakyoin can’t help but chuckle. “Yes, I do. I was given a basic rundown after being asked to come.”

Josuke exhales, and Kakyoin can’t decipher if it was a sigh of relief or not. “Ah, great. That’s good. Right.”

“Josuke,” Jotaro calls, and Josuke jerks his head up.

Jotaro hands Josuke an unopened plastic water bottle. Josuke stares at it for a moment before taking it.

“Thanks, Mr. Jotaro,” he mutters before twisting it open and taking a few sips.

They sit down at Josuke’s round dinner table, and Kakyoin hesitates for only a moment before he eases into a seat, biting back any sounds or expressions at the ache his lower back sends out over the motion. He settles his crutches into his lap, huffing down at the table.

Jotaro slides an unopened water bottle towards Kakyoin, and Kakyoin eyes him, lips on the edge of a grimace. Jotaro doesn’t look at him though; he just opens his own water bottle and takes a sip.

Kakyoin averts his gaze and paws the water bottle closer but doesn’t open it yet.

“Kakyoin knows most of the details already,” Jotaro states, and Kakyoin’s eyes flash to him again, irritation warming his blood. “I think he just might need a brush on Angelo’s st-”

“I can talk for myself, Kujo,” Kakyoin snaps, and Jotaro shoots a glare at Kakyoin before he tugs the brim of his hat down and shuts up.

Turning to Josuke, whose gaze is rapidly switching between the two, Kakyoin says in a more polite, lighter tone, “But he is right that I don’t know much about Angelo’s stand. It’s water-based?”

“Uh, yeah,” Josuke stammers, eyes lingering on Jotaro in confusion before he turns to Kakyoin. “His stand travels through water- or, any fluid, really, but he seems to prefer water. It’s why we’re drinking from bottles.”

Kakyoin nods.

“He attacks by basically getting his stand into some liquid, waiting for that liquid to enter someone’s body, and then…” Josuke’s face darkens, voice trailing off.

“Interesting…” Kakyoin muses. “So he’s long-distance?”

Josuke grimaces, brows furrowing inward. “Sure. I wouldn’t call it interesting though. More a pain in the ass.”

Kakyoin barks out a laugh then, which startles Josuke out of his darkened thoughts. “You’re right. It’s just rare when I meet other standusers with long-ranged abilities.”

Josuke blinks before his eyes widen. “Oh- right, you have a stand. It’s long-ranged too?”

Kakyoin nods, summoning Hierophant Green for Josuke to see. He can feel the impression of weight and warmth against his shoulder as Hierophant leans against him, settling under his long bang. “Yeah. My Hierophant Green can become a mass of tentacles. Good for stabbing and as a sensory field. He can also shoot projectiles and…”

Kakyoin frowns, flashes of a school nurse he never learned the name of flashing through his head. Jotaro stays silent.

“…and that’s all I really use him for. He’s quite versatile though.”

Josuke nods, eyes focused on Hierophant Green from where he’s resting against Kakyoin, expression open and curious. “His name’s Hierophant, you said?”

Kakyoin smiles, a pleased buzz starting to ease away the irritation in his blood, cooling the heat of anger to the warmth of comfort. “Yeah. Hierophant Green. I’ve had him since I was a kid.”

“Oh!” Josuke’s eyes light up at that, and Kakyoin almost chokes from how familiar the expression is. Just like when Jotaro talked about ships on the journey- “I’ve also had my Crazy Diamond since I was a kid!”

At these words, Josuke summons his stand, and Kakyoin’s breath hitches.

Color-wise, they couldn’t be more different. Crazy Diamond is all baby blues and saturated pink, while The World was a sickly gold and inky black, with only the occasional flash of green.

But physique? It was too similar. The same cylindrical helmet, the same heart motif in their armor, the same intense eyes, the same strong hands clenched into fists, fists that would tear-

“Josuke!” Jotaro barks, and Josuke blinks, surprised, his stand silently dissipating due to the disruption of focus.

“What?” Josuke asks, looking alarmed. “Did you hear something? Is Angelo-”

“Good grief…” Jotaro mutters, shielding his face with his hat. Kakyoin lets out a breath, staring down at the table. He swallows once, twice, before he brings his hands up to open his water bottle, passing the slight tremble in his fingers off as them being too cold. It was a cloudy day, after all, and his gloves were fingerless.

“What?” Josuke questions again, voice high with insistence.

“…Got too excited there,” Jotaro finally says, and Josuke tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Huh?”

Kakyoin takes a couple of sips before he caps his water bottle again, pointedly not looking at Jotaro. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just jealous because he hasn’t had Star Platinum all his life.”

Josuke turns his focus back to Kakyoin, eyes wide again. “He hasn’t?! But he has such good control over Star Platinum!”

Kakyoin chuckles. “Nah. He’s a novice compared to us.”

Josuke flaps his hands excitedly while Jotaro grumbles wordlessly. Kakyoin ignores him and instead smiles at Josuke. Joseph was right; he really was a good kid.

“Sorry,” Josuke says after setting his hands down, a small but genuine smile on his face, “I just don’t think I’ve met another standuser who’s had their stand all their life.”

Kakyoin offers a small smile of his own. “I get it kid, no worries.”

Josuke nods, his pompadour bouncing again, and for some reason, it reminds Kakyoin of Joseph on the trip to Egypt; the excitement, the silliness, the switching of focus -- it was all so reminiscent of Joseph that Kakyoin’s chest aches a small bit.

Jotaro stands then, his chair groaning against the floor as it’s pushed back, and Kakyoin drops his gaze to glower down at the table.

“I’m going to go and do a parameter check,” Jotaro announces, and Josuke nods. “You two stay. Don’t leave unless there’s a problem in here.”

Kakyoin’s lip picks up into a snarl, and he jerks his head up to glare at Jotaro. Jotaro is pointedly not looking at him. Coward, coward, coward, Kakyoin thinks furiously.

“Don’t tell me what to d-” Kakyoin starts to snap, but Jotaro turns away from the table and heads towards the kitchen doorway.

“I’ll be back soon.”

Kakyoin outright growls like a dog, snatching his crutches into his arms and pushing his own chair back to stand, intending on chasing after Jotaro if only to smack him, when Josuke says, “You don’t really like Mr. Jotaro, do you?”

Kakyoin blinks, before turning to look back down at Josuke. Josuke is frowning up at Kakyoin, resting his elbows on the table.

“What?” Kakyoin asks, the venom he was saving for Jotaro dropping from his voice, but the dry tone remaining.

Josuke shifts uncomfortably, and Kakyoin has the mind to feel bad for being so caught up in his own pettiness that he was about to leave the kid he’s supposed to be protecting alone during a stand investigation. Kakyoin sits back down.

“Just,” Josuke says, gesturing vaguely with his hand, “you look pretty pissed off every time Mr. Jotaro speaks.”

Kakyoin hums, chewing on his tongue. “…He just aggravates me is all.”

Josuke looks at him skeptically, and Kakyoin rolls his eyes.

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with, kid,” Kakyoin sighs, sinking into his chair. “…Kujo and I went on a mission together once, and he just…” Kakyoin frowns, gazing down at the table. “…He didn’t handle the aftermath well at all.” There, that was sort of the truth.

“Oh,” Josuke says, understanding coloring his voice. “I think I get it.”

Kakyoin nods. Josuke doesn’t try to clarify any ideas he has and Kakyoin doesn’t elaborate.

“Anyway,” Kakyoin drawls, and Josuke looks up at him again. “So, how long is your mom gonna be away?”

Josuke’s face tightens with seriousness, brows furrowing and eyes gleaming clearer in the orange kitchen light. “Four more days. I told her to take a week off to spend time with relatives.” Josuke looks down then, voice lowering. “I would’ve wanted her to do that anyway, but it also gives us time to take care of Angelo while she’s safe…”

Kakyoin thinks back to the pictures he saw in the hallway; how wide little Josuke’s eyes were when he was in frame with his mom, how the tidepool photo was taken by a novice who clearly cared about the subject of the photo.

“I promise we’ll get him before she comes back,” Kakyoin murmurs, voice firm.

Josuke raises his head, but his eyes stay trained on the table, brows furrowed. “But it’s already the third day and there’s been no sign of him…”

Understanding dawns on Kakyoin’s mind. “That’s why Kujo is scouting right now, looking for signs. If Angelo won’t attack first, then we will.”

Josuke is quiet for a moment, before he nods, looking up at Kakyoin again. “…Yeah. You’re right.” Josuke smiles despite the worried furrow between his brows remaining. “We’ll kick his ass.”

Kakyoin smiles himself then, nodding. “That’s the spirit, kiddo.”

“Don’t call me kid or kiddo,” Josuke whines, voice heightening to the common frequency of a teenager complaining. “I just started high school, I’m not a baby anymore.”

Kakyoin laughs, but he understands, memories of the trip to Egypt flashing in his mind. Josuke scowls at him, and Kakyoin puts up his hands in surrender, still chuckling. “No, you’re right. Sorry, Josuke,” Kakyoin snickers, “You just remind me of me when I was your age.”

“Don’t talk like you’re 50 unless you want me to treat you like you are,” Josuke grumbles, and Kakyoin wheezes, ignoring the flare of pain in his stomach in order to keep laughing. Josuke chuckles himself then, settling more into his own chair.

It’s quiet for a beat, Kakyoin focusing on collecting himself, while Josuke takes a sip of his water. Kakyoin pushes his sunglasses further up his nose from where they had slipped during his laughter, and Josuke eyes this, gaze training on the heart-shaped frames.

Kakyoin raises a brow and Josuke drops his eyes, clearing his throat, before saying, “Can I ask you a- uh, maybe invasive question?”

Already having an idea of what the question is, Kakyoin steeples his fingers, resting his head on top of them. “Shoot.”

“Uh,” Josuke says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. “Well, since you don’t mind me asking, why are you wearing sunglasses? It’s cloudy…and also we’re inside.”

Kakyoin raises a brow at him before he brings up a gloved hand and gently grips his frames, taking his sunglasses off. Kakyoin can’t see the finer details of Josuke’s face with them off, seeing as they were prescription, but Josuke’s mouth does drop open noticeably when he presumably takes notice of the scars over Kakyoin’s eyes.

“It’s weird, you’re right. But the sunglasses save me from awkward questions regarding the scars,” Kakyoin says matter-of-factly, slotting the frames back onto his face. Josuke looks a little embarrassed, and Kakyoin can’t help but chuckle, giving him a reassuring smile. “…Also, I’m more sensitive to light, so on cloudy days, the contrast between the lights in the house and the sky through the windows can give me headaches.”

Josuke nods, still looking guilty. “No, that makes sense. I’m sorry I was so rude.”

Kakyoin laughs again, waving a hand. “It’s not rude at all. Frankly, it’s kinda rude of me if anything else, but, well, I’d rather have a pain-free head than be seen as polite.”

Josuke chuckles then, tension leaving his shoulders, and Kakyoin takes a sip of his own water, snickering into the rim of it.

“Anyway,” Kakyoin segues, adjusting the way his frames sit on his face, “since I’m gonna be here with you and-” Kakyoin’s upper and lower lips disagree on what they want to do, his lower lip grimacing, his upper lip beginning to curl into a snarl, ending up with an expression that’s the picture definition of disgust, “-and- Kujo, while we hunt down Angelo, do you mind showing me around? Because it might take a couple more days.”

Josuke blinks, before standing up out of his chair when the sentence computes. “Oh, right! Shit, sorry, that completely slipped my mind,” Josuke says hastily, before slapping a hand over his mouth.

Kakyoin laughs again, his stomach and back grumbling in pain at the strain it puts on his muscles, but Kakyoin can’t care. He can’t remember the last time he met a kid – or adult, for that matter – as effortlessly funny as Josuke. “Don’t worry, Josuke, I’m not gonna tell your mom you cussed in front of me.”

Josuke exhales before shaking his head. “Jeez…thanks. She can be a real stickler about that stuff.” He frowns. “Same with teachers. Is it an adult-past-their-30s thing?”

Kakyoin snorts but says nothing, just grips his crutches again before hoisting himself up from the chair, grimacing as his back whimpers in pain.

“So I know the house is big, but there’s not a whole lot going on,” Josuke starts as he leads the way out of the kitchen, continuing down the hallway. “There’s the front door and then the kitchen right next to it, basically. But further down-”

Josuke gestures to an entryway, “-is the living room.”

Kakyoin snorts at the halfhearted theatrics. He must be really bored with the stakeout lasting so long.

Kakyoin follows Josuke into the room, though, and hums, impressed with the cozy feeling of the area. 

There’s a window on one far side of the room, and a door, presumably leading to the backyard, on the other.

As for the room itself, there’s a soft-looking, plush sofa in front of a small coffee table, and a worn-out recliner nearby, all focused on the television in the middle of the room.

Kakyoin squints. “Is that a Super Nintendo?”

Stationed next to the television is an unassuming gray cube, with a cord attaching it to a controller and a game cartridge Kakyoin can’t make out the details of pushed into the top.

Josuke jolts, turning to Kakyoin with wide eyes. “You know what it is?”

Kakyoin chuckles. “Of course I do. Video games don’t stop being fun just because you grow past your teen years.”

Josuke looks like he’s found a treasure trove, eyes so wide and mouth open in awe, and Kakyoin can’t help but laugh again, shaking his head.

“Shut your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” Kakyoin teases, and Josuke does, his teeth clicking together, before he blinks a couple of times as if trying to compute the reality of an adult liking video games.

“So- you still play then? You get it?” Josuke asks, eyes still comically wide.

Kakyoin nods, mouth curled up in amusement. “Yup.” He leans down then, closer to Josuke’s height, and says in a faux-whisper, “Best part of playing video games when you’re an adult is that no one can tell you to shut the game off.”

Josuke looks like he’s been told what the cure of death is, amazement so clear on his face Kakyoin could probably see it even without his glasses, and it reminds him almost painfully of the fact that this is a kid . He resists the urge to ruffle Josuke’s hair.

“Ah- uh- did you wanna play some?” Josuke spits out, and Kakyoin snorts but shakes his head sadly.

“Ah- It’s hard to see with the glasses,” Kakyoin explains, gesturing to his face, and Josuke deflates the slightest bit. “And while I could just sit close to the TV, it is bad for you. The last thing I wanna do is make my eyes worse.”

Josuke nods, head lowering. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense…”

“But,” Kakyoin continues, and Josuke’s head shoots up, making Kakyoin snicker, “if you wanna play, I’d be interested in watching. Gotta make sure the younger generation is doing all right if you get what I mean.”

Josuke chuckles then, but his eyes are still wide, and he rushes over to the television to set up a video game. Kakyoin gingerly takes a seat on the sofa, sighing as he sinks into the cushions, his back grumbling in appreciation over the support.

“I won’t play long,” Josuke assures absent-mindedly, more focused on setting his television to the right channel, and Kakyoin smiles to himself.

“I don’t mind if you do,” He replies, but Josuke shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m interrupting the house tour for this, after all.”

Kakyoin hums, leaning back into the sofa. “I insisted though.”

Josuke pauses thoughtfully at that, head tilting to the side, but before he can respond, the television flickers on, and The Art of Fighting’s title screen flashes on.

Kakyoin blinks. “Fighting game, huh? Reminds me of Street Fighter.”

“You played Street Fighter? That’s like a cult classic now,” Josuke replies as he starts up a level, stretching out his hands as the game loads.

Kakyoin snorts. “Don’t say that, you’ll make me feel old. But yeah, I used to play it in arcades all the time.”

“Not my fault if you are old then,” Josuke responds cheekily, before yelping as his character is hit with a combo from the computer-AI enemy. “AH- what the hell-”

Josuke fires back with a combo of his own, thumbs flying across the buttons of his controller, and Kakyoin’s brows raise, impressed. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“Ah, really?” Josuke responds, voice showcasing how he’s more preoccupied with his game than the conversation. “That’s good to hear from a veteran gamer, I think.”

“Josuke,” Kakyoin scoffs good-naturedly. “You said if I stopped calling you kid, you wouldn’t treat me like I’m 50.”

Josuke snickers before he performs another combo, knocking the opponent he’s facing down. In a real fight, this could be the end of it -- but the enemy still has health left, Kakyoin notes, his eyes flickering to the top of the screen.

“You know a lot of combos,” Kakyoin compliments, and Josuke chuckles bashfully, one hand leaving the controller to rub the back of his head.

“Ah, well, I use this game as stress relief sometimes...so, I guess that might be why I’m used to it?” Josuke replies, before jerking his hand back to the controller, performing a close-call dodge away from the enemy. Kakyoin almost wants to clap over that one.

“That’s good,” Kakyoin comments instead, trying his best to track Josuke’s character’s movement on the screen past his sunglasses, “it’s good to have things to throw your frustration at.”

“Yup,” Josuke responds absent-mindedly, before the game’s speed slows and Josuke hunches forward. Kakyoin glances up at the health bars; the enemy’s is almost depleted. Final move time, then.

Josuke performs a series of button mashing and keypad tapping, and his character on the screen turns the commands into fighting prowess; he grabs the enemy’s shoulders, then forces him down, slamming his chin right against his knee.

In a real fight, that’d be it, but Josuke’s character continues, lifting up the opponent and bringing their spine down sharply against his knee, kanji in a dramatic font jumping up, spelling out CRACK!!

A victory screen flashes on the screen, and Josuke stretches his arms, before turning back to look at Kakyoin.

“So, how’d I do?” He asks, eyes shining, and Kakyoin chuckles.

“That was really good, Josuke. I see the kids are in good hands.”

Josuke rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “And that doesn’t make you sound old?”

“Hey,” Kakyoin barks back with no bite, and Josuke laughs.

“As fun as it is though, video games won’t help me get better with real-life fighting,” Josuke says, turning thoughtful, “and I’ve gotta get stronger now that such weird shit is going on.”

Kakyoin hums, his brows furrowing, and nods slowly. “I guess…”

Josuke shrugs, glancing back up at Kakyoin. “But at the same time, video games also exaggerate. Like, that last move could’ve killed someone in real life, right?”

Kakyoin glances down at his hands, nodding still. “Yeah. It’s easier to kill someone in real life than it is in a video game,” he murmurs.

“Wha- have you?” Josuke asks, jerking his head up to Kakyoin. “Killed someone, I mean?”

Kakyoin shifts uncomfortably, blurry memories he only half remembers, and blurry memories he can never forget crossing his mind. “Yes.” Kakyoin sighs, leaning his head against the back of the couch. “They’re- people are right when they say it changes you. You can’t ever erase the fact.”

Josuke stays quiet. He exists the game to the main menu, and Kakyoin can’t help but feel a little bad that he might’ve killed the kid’s mood.

“Do you regret it?” Josuke asks, though, and his voice isn’t somber so much as just thoughtful, soft -- but not quiet, as it rings out into the living room.

Kakyoin pauses, faces he’ll never have names to flashing in his mind, like some sort of slideshow. It’s interesting, Kakyoin can suppose in a detached way, how people he only knew for minutes will stay in the peripheral of his mind’s eye for the rest of his life. “…No,” Kakyoin answers honestly, gaze dropping to his gloved hands, tracing the simple design on one with a finger. “But if there was a way I could’ve stopped some of them without killing them, I’d go back and do that.”

Josuke hums thoughtfully, flexing his fingers against his palm a couple of times, and it’s only then Kakyoin wonders just how far Josuke was preparing to go during the Angelo fight.

“I can help teach you some things I know,” Kakyoin finds himself blurting, mouth moving without his explicit command for it.

Josuke looks up at him, eyes wide. “Wh- really? You’ll teach me how to fight?”

“Er, self-defense, let’s call it self-defense,” Kakyoin says, before he stands back up, leaning against his crutches. “But...you are right it’s gonna be dangerous for a while. And it’s always good to know anyway.”

Josuke nods, his pompadour bouncing again. “Yeah! Yeah, I’d love that, thank you so much! Mr. Jotaro says he’s too busy to teach me anything, so that’d be great!” Kakyoin scowls at the mention of Jotaro, but Josuke doesn’t take this to heart. “Uh, how did you wanna set it up?”

Kakyoin hums. “I’ll give you the number of the hotel I’m staying at. You can call me and we can figure out a date and time or something.”

Josuke nods, and he looks so much like a puppy Kakyoin has to shake his head to rid himself of the image. Joseph’s son, for sure…

“Ah- right! The house tour!” Josuke jumps up, shutting the television off before he pads back out of the room.

“Uh, so, down the rest of the hallway is just a bathroom, really,” Josuke says, before he turns, the original hallway intersected by a new one. “And down here is the stairs.”

Kakyoin nods, looking around. The walls are painted a nice, subtle purple, with picture frames lining the wall. There’s a photo of Josuke with his grandfather, both holding up fish. Josuke looks a little grossed out, face pinched in a specific way, but he’s still smiling for the camera’s sake. Meanwhile, his grandfather is beaming, a hand on Josuke’s shoulder, another wrapped around the tail of a fish. It’s as long as his forearm.

Kakyoin looks at it for a moment, eyes tracing over the bright smiles in the picture and Josuke’s clear disgust, but his effort to put it aside for his grandfather. They really were a charming family.

Kakyoin drops his gaze.

“Uh, and upstairs is mostly just bedrooms,” Josuke continues, and Kakyoin follows him, eyeing the woodwork on the stair railing with interest.

“This is a really nice house,” Kakyoin admires as they climb the stairs to the second floor. “Your mom must’ve worked really hard to buy this thing, especially at her age-“

Kakyoin trails off when Josuke’s steps slow to a stop. At the end of the hallway is a small shrine, the lingering scent of incense hanging in the air. A picture that Kakyoin can’t make the details out of is stationed in the center – no doubt it was of Josuke’s grandfather. Some small trinkets adorn the table, next to the photograph.

Josuke steps forward silently, footfalls soft against the carpet. Kakyoin hesitates before he follows behind, the quiet creaks of his crutches mingling with Josuke’s footsteps.

Josuke stops at the shrine, brow furrowed, face troubled. It looks like he’s not sure if he’s angry or sad. Kakyoin can’t blame him. Up close, Kakyoin can see the picture is of Josuke’s grandfather, his mother, and himself. A family photo, fitting for a family man’s remembrance.

“This is the house my mom grew up in, actually,” Josuke murmurs, staring at his grandfather’s picture frame. “My grandfather was the one who bought it.”

Kakyoin hums quietly, watching Josuke’s face carefully.

“He…gave it to mom in his will.” Josuke continues, still gazing at the small shrine, but eyes not seeing what’s in front of them, if the glaze over them is any indication. “He was a police officer, so he just always had to have that update to date. Once he paid the house off, he had his will updated so that mom would get it when he passed.”

“…He seemed to love you and your mother a lot,” Kakyoin says quietly. Josuke nods, swallowing thickly, brows pinching inward, mouth twitching before he forces it into a frown.

“…He never judged her,” Josuke says, kneeling down in front of the shrine.

Kakyoin eyes the floor warily, before he eases himself down too, ignoring the wail of his back as he settles in a cross-legged sit, setting his crutches quietly down next to himself.

“Even when she ended up pregnant with me and no father in the picture, he still loved her all the same. I’m not stupid, I know some women get thrown out for that, but-” Josuke swallows thickly. “But grandpa never did. He never asked questions. Just watched me when she had classes and continued to help pay for tuition so she could still graduate from college.”

Kakyoin feels a flash of irritation directed to Joseph, but he pushes it down with mild difficulty. This was not about Joseph’s mistakes, and making it so would be disrespectful to Josuke’s grandpa’s memory.

“He was just…always so kind,” Josuke says, ducking his head. Kakyoin nods despite Josuke not being able to see him before he reaches out a gloved hand and rubs Josuke’s shoulder.

Josuke accepts it for a few silent beats, before he raises his head again and Kakyoin drops his hand.

“He loved this town,” Josuke says, voice regaining stability and strength. “Which is why I’m not going to allow Angelo to keep running amuck. I’ll carry on his dream.”

As he says this, Josuke’s face grows firm, brows furrowed in determination rather than grief, eyes burning with a blue flame. It almost reminds Kakyoin of Jotaro, how he looked when he decided on going on the journey to Egypt to save his mother.

“…It’s the least I can do,” Josuke adds quietly, eyes dropping from the photo despite his head still standing tall.

Kakyoin nods again. “He’d be proud of you, Josuke.”

Josuke’s head does lower the slightest bit at that, making Kakyoin frown. “You didn’t know him; how can you be sure?” He asks.

He sounds so young that Kakyoin’s chest cavity aches, dull pain rippling over the walls of it. “This house is littered with photos, Josuke. I can see the moments you two shared; he clearly cared about you. This house in of itself is proof of the love he has for you and your mom. He’d be honored that you, his grandson, would want to continue his work of keeping the town safe.”

Josuke is quiet then, contemplative.

“I may not have known him,” Kakyoin says softly, “but the evidence I’ve seen all suggests he would be proud.”

Josuke’s head dips a little more. Kakyoin allows him the moment, eyes instead moving up to the shrine. It’s a nice place for a shrine; right in front of a window. It allows a scenic, natural light to creep in, in addition to any candles that could be lit. The table itself is also the perfect size for decorative and memorial items. Kakyoin wonders if the location was Josuke’s mom’s idea or if her father was the one who started it.

“Thank you,” Josuke says after a few minutes, voice reclaiming the strength and volume it had while downstairs.

Kakyoin nods again. “Just calling it how I see it.”

Josuke snorts, and he turns to give Kakyoin a smile.

He sighs, more a rush of an exhale than an expression of emotion, then turns back to the shrine. “I…I’ve been praying to him every day, usually around this time, actually, so do you mind if I-?”

Kakyoin shakes his head, reaching for his crutches. “No, no, not at all. Take all the time you need. I’ll go busy myself downstairs by making some tea or something.”

Josuke shoots him a grateful smile, before turning back to the shrine, and Kakyoin takes a deep breath before hoisting himself back up, his lower back weeping, causing his hips to spasm, forgetting how to hold Kakyoin’s legs for a moment.

Kakyoin grits his teeth, willing his body to just work, and after a moment of their confusion, his hips regain functionality, even if his back continues aching. It’s always aching. Kakyoin rolls his eyes before turning and heading back for the stairs.

As Kakyoin steps off the bottom step, he hears a light tap as his feet connect with the floor – which wouldn’t be odd in of itself, but he’s wearing socks on carpet.

Frowning, Kakyoin takes another step, hearing another tap.

“What the…” Kakyoin taps the flooring with his crutch, but the sound doesn’t repeat when he presses.

When he straightens up though, the tap is heard again. Then another. And another. Two more.

Kakyoin looks up at the nearest window -- one on the other side of the hall -- and sees the small, telltale shines of rain of glass.

Kakyoin can’t help but hum at his foolishness, but he does frown. Rainy days always made his spine act up – some combination of the cold and pressure.

As the rain picks up and the droplets start to trickle down the pane outright, Kakyoin walks toward the window, fingering his scarf gingerly.

He watches as the outside world becomes a flood of colors, blending into one another, distorting into odd shapes and blobs as the rain thoroughly coats the window.

Despite the pitter-pattering rhythm of the rain against the window and roof, not unlike the sound of marbles rolling across the floor of a distant room, it’s so quiet.

Kakyoin’s hair stands on end as his eyes widen.

Rain-

Angelo-

Jotaro-

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Kakyoin immediately spins on his crutches, his spine crying at the twist but Kakyoin having half the mind to verbally snap at it to shut the hell up, because dammit, this is serious.

Cursing his legs over and over in his head as he does, Kakyoin rushes for the front door, only for it to be kicked open and for Jotaro to come barreling inside, breathing harshly.

Their eyes meet, and for once, Kakyoin’s blood is cool with adrenaline rather than hot with anger over the deadlock.

“Angelo-” Jotaro starts before there’s a loud THUD.

Kakyoin whirls back around, pivoting on one crutch to do so, only to see Josuke standing up evidently from jumping down the stairs, wincing at his knees straighten.

“Kitchen-” Josuke gasps out, and it’s only then that Kakyoin hears a faint whistling. It reminds him of steam erupting from a hot tea kettle. Steam…oh, shit-

Josuke barrels past Jotaro and Kakyoin, and the two are left to follow hot on his heels, Kakyoin starting to feel overheated in his cardigan and scarf.

The three jerk just short of the kitchen’s entryway, Jotaro catching his breath audibly and Josuke clenching and unclenching his fists. Kakyoin was correct in identifying a tea kettle, but in addition to the steam coming from that, there’s a pot filled with boiling water and the sink is turned on hot, all contributing to the room effectively becoming a sauna.

“When the hell did he even have time to do this?” Kakyoin curses.

“You seriously think Angelo managed to do this?” Josuke asks, whipping his head back to face Kakyoin, and his face- he’s angry. His face is shadowed with how it’s twisted into a scowl, but his eyes burn past it. But he’s also scared, his shoulders shaking, and Kakyoin is reminded he’s a teenager with a sharp squeeze of his chest.

Why didn’t you go with your mom and let Jotaro handle this alone?

“He wasn’t waiting for us to drink water,” Jotaro muses gravely, stepping back out of the room, “he was waiting for the rain.”

Kakyoin grits his teeth, avoiding the urge to shout at Jotaro for not thinking of this. Hindsight’s 20/20, he reminds himself. If Jotaro cared more about tactics other than the best angle to punch someone then he should’ve been able to foresee this, snaps back another part of himself. Kakyoin shakes his head.

“Josuke- stay away from the kettle! ” Jotaro shouts, lurching forward, and Kakyoin can only stumble after him, eyes widening as he catches sight of the figure forming in the steam behind Josuke.

So this is Angelo’s stand? It’s so ugly...

Josuke jolts, a startled look on his face, but his own stand flickers into view, quickly grabbing and smashing a bottle in the air behind Josuke’s head. The stand is waved away with the steam, but he laughs anyway. It echoes in the room, faintly, like all the water droplets in the air amplified it.

Kakyoin can only stare as the bottle reforms – nothing inside – and is dropped into Josuke’s hand. Josuke frowns at this.

“We need to leave the kitchen,” Jotaro urges, turning and pushing Kakyoin towards the door.

“Wha- hey, I can move by myself, thanks,” Kakyoin hisses, smacking his crutches underneath himself to avoid falling, shooting a death glare at Jotaro. Jotaro, as usual, does not look at him. Kakyoin grits his teeth. “Watch the kid, you asshole,”

Jotaro blinks as if the thought didn’t occur to him, and Kakyoin really is about to hit him until he notices Josuke grimacing from beyond Jotaro’s shoulder.

Kakyoin simply pushes him away, seething. “Give me some damn space.”

“Yeah, so, I don’t think leaving is gonna work,” Josuke interrupts, making Kakyoin and Jotaro turn to him. “Angelo made holes in the roof, which is why I rushed downstairs so fast.”

Kakyoin blinks while Jotaro glares at nothing beside him. “Shit, that’s smart.”

“But outside will be worse,” Josuke continues, his voice edging into desperation, looking into Jotaro’s face for answers. Kakyoin swallows. Why didn’t Jotaro make him go with his mother-? “We’re trapped,” Josuke finishes grimly.

Jotaro swallows, throat clicking quietly next to Kakyoin. “We should still get out of this room,” Jotaro decides. No one objects.

Kakyoin pivots on his crutch, heading towards the door, shooting Jotaro a glare in case he dared to try and direct Kakyoin around again.

Kakyoin cuts the gaze short, though, as he steps out into the hall, and notices even more steam. Steam that definitely did not originate from solely the kitchen.

Kakyoin jerks his head to the side, only to see a facet in a room branching off from the hallway turned on. Heart picking up, Kakyoin hurries down the hall, his crutches creaking noisily as he forces his weight on and off them rapidly.

Kakyoin uses the butt of his crutch to kick open the hallway bathroom’s door, only to find his suspicions confirmed; the tap and bath are both turned on, both on their hottest setting. Angelo, somehow, turned on all the sources of water in the house. Ugh, that was smart.

Sweat slides down Kakyoin’s back and he’s not sure if it’s from the adrenaline or the humidity of the house.

From the steam in the bathroom, Angelo’s stand begins forming again.

“Oh, gross,” Kakyoin snaps when the thing’s ugly face forms, its mouth open in a sharp smile, sticky strings of saliva connecting its upper and lower jaw.

Hierophant’s hands appear beside Kakyoin’s head, the water Hierophant generates when forming emeralds churning in-between his palms.

Just as Aqua Necklace lunges to strike, Hierophant shoots the stream of water, some shards of emerald dropping to the floor along with it.

Aqua Necklace yelps as the steam it’s moving through slams into the cold burst of Hierophant’s water, condensing into a puddle on the floor, all momentum lost.

Kakyoin sneers down at the stand before slamming the door shut.

He hurries down the remainder of the hallway, rejoining Josuke and Jotaro, noting they’re turning off facets. Jotaro eyes him carefully, frowning. Kakyoin flashes him the finger and Jotaro rolls his eyes.

“What a clever power…” Jotaro murmurs instead of addressing Kakyoin’s rudeness, and Kakyoin snorts, but he does have to agree.

“He’s smart, I’ll give him that…” Kakyoin concedes.

Josuke snickers, and at first Kakyoin thinks it’s due to what he said, but when he glances over at him, his brows are furrowed, teeth gritted.

“Josuke?” Kakyoin prompts. Jotaro is silent next to Kakyoin, but he stares at his uncle in concern.

Josuke continues snickering for a second, before shaking his head. “It’s nothing,” He says, voice edged with anger, “just that the man who killed my grandfather is near. And you’re right, he’s smart. So this should be interesting.”

Kakyoin hums, concerned. He guesses responding to fear with anger is a good alternative if you’re forced into a fight, but…

Kakyoin narrows his eyes over at Jotaro, who again ignores him.

…But Josuke shouldn’t be in this fight to begin with.

He’s starting to understand why he couldn’t just tell Josuke no, though, as he turns back to Josuke and is hit with the full flame of determination in his eyes. Blue fire is always hotter than orange or red, and Kakyoin is reminded of that whenever he sees those trademark blue eyes.

Kakyoin just shakes his head though, pushing his glasses back up his nose, which had started to slip due to the humidity. “Well, it certainly won’t be boring.”

As soon as the words leave Kakyoin’s mouth, the steam in the air of the hallway condenses audibly, not unlike the sound of a soda can opening and fizzing.

Kakyoin jerks his head back just in time to see Aqua Necklace lunge towards Jotaro.

Kakyoin twitches, eyes widening, hands clenching the grips of his crutches, but Star Platinum acts before he can consider doing so himself, simply smacking the cloud away from Jotaro’s neck, his speed making it possible.

The rush of air from Star Platinum’s attack condenses Aqua Necklace to water, and Star Platinum moves to strike again, slapping the puddle down to the floor.

Aqua Necklace simply uses the momentum, though, jumping up out of the puddle towards Jotaro’s face.

Kakyoin can hear Josuke inhale harshly next to him, but Star Platinum smacks the stand away again, this time towards the ceiling.

Aqua Necklace snickers down at them, before soaking into the ceiling, dissipating.

Kakyoin blinks; it all happened within the span of a few seconds. He had forgotten how fast Star Platinum was…

He wraps his scarf around the lower half of his face. “Goddamn.”

“Are you okay?” Josuke asks, gaze straying on the ceiling, squinting, as if daring Aqua Necklace to drip back down.

“Josuke,” Jotaro says, ignoring the question, turning nonchalantly to face him. Josuke straightens, but his expression stays the same; determined, angry, scared. “How do you figure we beat this?”

Kakyoin’s eyes narrow, brows pinching in anger. “Uh, hey, seasoned standuser right here, Kujo.”

Jotaro just ignores him, eyes focused on Josuke, and Kakyoin swears he sees red, but Josuke speaks before he can lunge at Jotaro like a rabid dog lunges at fresh meat.

“I think it’s less a matter of beating,” Josuke says, walking towards one side of the hallway, shooting Kakyoin and Jotaro a determined smile, “but more one of breaking.”

Having said that, Josuke summons his stand, and with a yell and a clench of Josuke’s fist, Crazy Diamond surges forward.

“ DORA!” Crazy Diamond calls as it punches a sizable hole in the wall, and Kakyoin only has the time to wonder What the hell is he doing? before he realizes it was to access the living room.

Josuke easily hops over the small lip of the wall still jutting up from the floor through the hole, before calling over his shoulder, “Come on! I’ll fix the wall after we’re all in.”

Jotaro huffs, but smiles, before hastily following in Josuke’s footsteps, easily stepping over the rubble.

Kakyoin sticks the end of his crutches through the hole in the wall before vaulting himself through, shaking his head and chuckling as he does. “You’re a crazy kid, Josuke,”

The second Kakyoin makes it through, Josuke starts rebuilding the wall. “I don’t wanna hear that from you of all people.”

Kakyoin laughs out loud at that, but the sound is cut off abruptly as he turns around.

A humidifier was on, steam curling up from the lip of it.

Jotaro immediately kicks the humidifier off the coffee table it was sitting on, Kakyoin silently stabbing it with Hierophant’s tentacle to put an end to the steam supply. If it was needed, Josuke could fix it later...

Kakyoin whips his head back around, only for coldness to immediately flood his veins.

“Too late!” Aqua Necklace cackles as it fights its way inside Josuke’s mouth, despite him choking and sputtering in protest. “I knew you’d try and escape to the living room!”

“Josuke!” Kakyoin and Jotaro both yell at the same time.

Jotaro is frozen, eyes wide, but Kakyoin lurches forward, a tentacle of Hierophant’s reaching out and trying desperately to swat Aqua Necklace out of the way. If Star Platinum could do it, so could he, so could he-

Josuke claws at his own neck and Hierophant only just reaches Josuke’s lip when Aqua Necklace flushes down his throat.

“No-” Kakyoin flips his stupid sunglasses up, resting them against his forehead as he jerks forward one more step as if he could help Josuke now.

Not the kid, not the kid, he’s just a kid -

“Josuke,” Jotaro calls softly, stepping forward, hand reaching out listlessly. Josuke hunches over, still gripping his neck, but he looks more confused than in pain, as if he’s listening to something Kakyoin and Jotaro can’t hear. Maybe Aqua Necklace was saying something?

At some point, Josuke’s face falls flat, unamused, lips pulled in a half grimace, and Kakyoin thinks the worst, until Josuke leans forward a bit more, opens his mouth, and summons his stand.

Crazy Diamond flickers into view beside Josuke, before he too hunches down, bringing a hand to Josuke’s mouth, reaching inside.

“Josuke-” Kakyoin calls, alarmed until the stand pulled out a-

…A glove, from the kid’s throat.

“Huh?” Kakyoin questions, brows furrowing.

Josuke coughs, gagging against air as his throat recoils at having the latex of the glove rubbed against it, but he sits back up, chuckling.

“This is...?” Jotaro murmurs, and Josuke nods.

“I caught him,” He sneers, face lit up in victory, and Kakyoin can’t help but chuckle once, out of relief if anything else.

Josuke grimaces as he kneels down to pick up the glove, pinching it between two fingers. “Ugh, gross…”

Josuke stands back up, wiping his chin. The glove jerks in his grasp, but Josuke is right; Angelo really is caught.

Kakyoin can’t help but snort again. It’s almost comical how easy it was in the end to entrap such a dangerous foe...

“I cut up this glove earlier and swallowed it,” Josuke explains, glancing up at Jotaro. “I didn’t know if I’d have to use it, but…”

Jotaro nods his approval and Josuke heads towards the living room’s main window.

Josuke opens the window and twirls the glove around his pinched fingers, eyes darting about the landscape calculatingly. Beyond the sound of rain hitting plants and concrete, there’s a distant thump with an accompanying yelp and Josuke’s eyes land on some green shrubs surrounding the house.

“What a creep,” he grimaces.

“Let’s go finish this,” Jotaro says, an edge to his voice Kakyoin is intimately familiar with, and despite their current misgivings, he can’t help but smirk the slightest bit. Angelo sure as hell was going to pay.

Josuke shuts the window, and they all head towards the front door, the only sounds being the rain against the roof and Kakyoin’s crutches.

They step outside, and Kakyoin is immediately hit with the sweet smell of wet earth, along with a shiver as the cold immediately sinks into his clothes, cooling the sweat that collected on his forehead within seconds. Kakyoin frowns, tightening the scarf around his neck. They continue towards the bushes.

Angelo is there, sprawled on the ground, seeming a little dazed and very afraid, if his shaking is anything to go by. His head jerks up at the sound of their footsteps squelching against the wet grass, and he looks over his shoulder towards them.

Kakyoin glares down at him, and he’s more than sure Jotaro and Josuke are doing the same.

“So you’re him?” Josuke scoffs, sounding unimpressed.

The man’s eyes widen, and he quickly scrambles to his feet, darting away into the street. “Dammit-!”

Kakyoin trips him with Hierophant, and once again the group stalks towards him as he sprawls against the ground.

Angelo crawls forward a few steps, clinging to a rock, before heaving himself up, using it as support. He turns back around to face his assailants, still shaking, and Kakyoin isn’t sure if it’s because of the weather or because of his cowardice. Kakyoin sneers down at him.

“Are- are you guys going to kill me?” Angelo asks, voice shaky, but his brows still set in determination, even if the rest of his expression conveys helplessness. “Because you can’t. That’s the state’s job, not yours, haha…”

Angelo chuckles then, before pointing a finger at Josuke, making Kakyoin bristle. “Even though I killed your grandpa, you don’t have the authority to kill me! Haha!”

Josuke’s upper lip starts to curl into a snarl, but the rest of his face is unamused, unaffected, the rain slowly wetting his pompadour, but his hair remaining in style nonetheless.

“Besides,” Angelo sneers, “what would your grandpa think if you killed someone, and your soul became just as cursed as mine?”

Josuke twitches and his stand appears, smacking the hand Angelo was pointing with into the rock at his back, using enough force to break it on impact.

Angelo howls in pain. Josuke doesn’t even flinch.

“How dare you point at me and tell me what I can and can’t do?” Josuke asks lowly, venom dripping from his words like the raindrops dripping off the leaves of the trees around them.

Angelo gasps, jerking his hand up, and Kakyoin blinks in surprise; it has been molded with the rock.

Oh, Kakyoin finally clues in on Josuke’s plan, and he can’t help but feel a small burst of pride. Smart.

“No one’s going to kill you,” Josuke sneers, planting his feet. “Not me, not Mr. Jotaro, not Mr. Kakyoin. But you’re not going back to prison, either.”

Jotaro fiddles with the cap of his hat, ducking his head. “I’ll leave him up to you, Josuke.”

Kakyoin nods, leaning back against his crutches. “It’s your call.”

Josuke nods, still staring down at Angelo, who’s looking up at the teenager with an expression more suitable for the damned facing the devil for the first time.

“Wh- what are you going to do to me?!” Angelo demands, scrambling back against the rock, holding his ruined hand out awkwardly.

“Make you suffer for eternity,” Josuke snarls, his stand shimmering into existence behind him. “For my grandfather, and for all the people you killed!”

Crazy Diamond launches forward, fists raised and ready to strike, and Kakyoin averts his gaze as Angelo is punched over and over against the rock, breaking it on impact and becoming fused with Angelo’s body when Crazy Diamond fixes it. Angelo screams, but his cries are warbled, cut off repeatedly as Crazy Diamond does its deed.

Despite the stand looking so much like The World, it really acts more like Star Platinum…

“You can never hurt anyone again like this,” Josuke spits after the deed is done, Angelo’s body mostly merged with the rock, some fingers and his face still visible.

Angelo is gasping silently in pain within the boulder, eyes unfocused, and Kakyoin grimaces. The stand was just as ugly as the man himself. He blinks, eyes slipping into focus again before he spits. “Damn!”

Josuke huffs, crossing his arms, and Angelo narrows his eyes at him.

“Don’t think he won’t kill you for this!” Angelo shrieks, voice laced solely with indignation, making the pitch high and edged like the fine point of a needle.

Josuke rears his head, raising one brow. “Huh? Who?”

Angelo smiles then, the expression crooked and alarmingly wide. It almost reminds Kakyoin of his own mouth, but his jaw could never drop open that far. “That’s right. You don’t know him – the boy who gave me my powers.”

Kakyoin blinks, frowning. …What? Gave him a stand?

“What?” Jotaro echoes, brows furrowing. “Are you saying there’s someone who can give other people stands?”

“Do you think we’re stupid?” Kakyoin snarls, eyes narrowing.

Angelo just laughs again, though, and Kakyoin twitches. “You scared? It’s true, I wasn’t born a stand user.”

Kakyoin blinks. Sure, he knew others developed stands later on in their lives, but…the timing of this was too coincidental. Did he feel threatened enough by the state during his time in prison that his stand developed as a safety mechanism, like how Star Platinum developed for Jotaro?

The still-visible fingers of a hand that’s now buried in rock clench listlessly, and Angelo smiles at them all, wide and unhinged, making Kakyoin shiver. “Wanna know how? I can tell you.”

“Why would you do that?” Kakyoin counters, staring down his nose, unimpressed. “What do you gain from it?”

Angelo simply ignores him, focusing his gaze on Josuke. “It was last year, about two weeks from my execution date. I was just in my cell trying to sleep when a boy in a school uniform somehow appeared inside.”

Angelo cackles, and Kakyoin’s mouth curls sharply downward, unamused.

“He had an arrow with him. Looked like ancient shit. And then he shot me-”

“Do you seriously expect us to believe this?” Kakyoin hisses, but Jotaro throws up an arm across Kakyoin’s chest, a silent command to be quiet.

Kakyoin glares daggers at him. He can’t make out Jotaro’s expression underneath the brim of his cap.

“He shot me,” Angelo continues, smirking at Kakyoin. Kakyoin snarls at him. “And when he pulled the arrow out, my Aqua Necklace appeared for the first time. Told me he had awakened powers in my mind – told me it was called a stand by a man named DIO.”

The cold from the rain sinks completely from Kakyoin’s clothes into his skin, numbing the muscle underneath, almost slowing his heart to a stop with the flood of ice.

“…DIO,” Jotaro says, voice enough degrees softer than his usual tone for it to be noticeable. “Did you just say DIO?”

Josuke looks between Kakyoin and Jotaro, frowning in concern. “Mr. Jotaro? Mr. Kakyoin? What is-?”

He’s interrupted by a yelp behind them, and Kakyoin can only jerk his head back, his spine whimpering at the twist.

There’s a kid about a few meters away, scrambling as the glove that Aqua Necklace was inside of holds his throat in a vice grip.

“For fuck’s sake,” Kakyoin exhales harshly, shooting a glare towards Angelo, who just laughs again.

“You idiots!” He cackles. “You asked why I wanted to tell my story – this is why! To distract you!”

Kakyoin clenches his teeth, fists tightening around the grips of his crutches, his body once more warming up with a fire of anger in his chest.

“Angelo-” Jotaro snarls, but Angelo cuts him off, gesturing towards Josuke with his head the best he can.

“Josuke!” Angelo demands, voice haggard and rough, “Release me from this damned rock right now!”

Josuke is stiff, frozen for a moment, before he spits to the side and turns slowly back around towards Angelo, the blue flame in his eyes visible once again.

“Seems like I didn’t use enough force the first time,” Josuke states lowly, glaring at Angelo with wide eyes underneath his wet, but still standing, pompadour. “So let’s try this again.”

“Heh?” Angelo questions, eyes widening. “What are you doing?! I’ll kill that damn kid if you don’t stop whining underneath that stupid hair of yours and free me from this rock right now!”

Josuke twitches, teeth gritting together. “What did you just say?”

“Josuke, wait-” Jotaro calls, taking a step towards Josuke, but halting when Crazy Diamond emerges from its user.

“The boy in the uniform will come after you!” Angelo declares, voice high in desperation, staring straight at Crazy Diamond and his fists. “He’s in this town, after all! It wouldn’t take long for him to hunt you down!”

Kakyoin blinks, also stepping forward. “Wait, Josuke, calm down-”

“What?” Jotaro barks at Angelo, before turning to Josuke, taking another step. “Josuke, don’t!”

Josuke is impulsive, though, and Kakyoin distantly thinks he must get it from his dad.

Crazy Diamond launches forward even as Kakyoin and Jotaro make it to Josuke in an attempt to hold him back, fists flying, the stand’s cries sprinkled in with Angelo’s screams. Kakyoin and Jotaro can only watch as his face is caved in punch after punch, only to be healed back with the rock.

Jotaro jerks his head over his shoulder, and Kakyoin unthinkingly does the same, only to see the glove trapping Aqua Necklace flop to the wet pavement with a slop, the stand as immobile as its user now was.

The kid is alright, if a little rattled, and stares at the glove in confusion and fear, shaking.

Kakyoin grits his teeth and turns towards Josuke and...well, it’s more rock than Angelo, now.

“I was too easy on you the first time,” Josuke spits, shaking his head, and Jotaro and Kakyoin let him go, frowning.

Jotaro huffs, face pinching in irritation. “Good grief…Josuke, we needed more information from him.”

Josuke simply shrugs, unbothered, and Kakyoin narrows his eyes at him. “This is serious Josuke! If what Angelo said was true and there’s an arrow that can give people stands, then more assholes like Angelo will come out of the woodwork -- especially since Angelo said the man responsible is in Morioh!”

Josuke does pause then, but he doesn’t slump, still holding his convictions. “It’s like you said: if what he said was true.”

“He mentioned DIO,” Jotaro says lowly, “he would have no business knowing that name if at least some part of that story wasn’t true.”

Josuke does slump then, looking alarmed if also confused. “Okay…then who is that, anyway?”

Kakyoin and Jotaro pause.

Jotaro opens his mouth to answer, but Kakyoin interjects. “Remember how I told you Jotaro and I did a mission together once?”

Jotaro jerks his head towards Kakyoin, confused, but Josuke nods, turning his gaze from Jotaro to Kakyoin.

Kakyoin sighs, pulling his sunglasses off his forehead and into one of the pockets of his cardigan. “…That mission was to fight DIO. He’s been a damn nuisance for over 100 years already, and now that he’s finally dead, he’s still causing trouble?”

Jotaro is silent, face stony. Josuke swallows thickly.

“DIO may have been defeated,” Jotaro picks up quietly, making both Josuke and Kakyoin turn to face him, “but the mystery of how he got his stand remained. DIO wasn’t born a standuser either.”

Kakyoin blinks. “What?”

Jotaro ignores him, staring solely at Josuke.

Josuke shakes his head. “…And you think it has something to do with the guy who gave Angelo his stand?”

Jotaro nods, before considering. “Well, less the man himself and more the bow and arrow he wields.”

“What?” Kakyoin repeats, smacking a crutch in front of Jotaro and vaulting himself forward into his personal space. “When the hell did you figure all that out?”

Jotaro tips the brim of his hat down, covering his eyes, and Kakyoin snarls, jerking one of his crutches forward and jabbing the tip of it into Jotaro’s foot. Jotaro twitches but otherwise doesn’t react. Out of his peripheral, Kakyoin can see Josuke jerk forward nervously, but he can’t care right now.

“Answer me!”

Jotaro stays silent, still, and Kakyoin grits his teeth, before reaching up and gripping the fabric of Jotaro’s coat.

Jotaro jolts then, jerking his head up the slightest bit, and Kakyoin catches how his eyes are wide in surprise for only a moment before Jotaro tilts his head down again.

“Kujo Jotaro,” Kakyoin seethes, and Jotaro sighs. Kakyoin twitches, the sound scraping against his ears like flint and rocks, the sparks igniting his blood.

“After…DIO,” Jotaro murmurs, voice jerky and short, like he doesn’t know where to start, “we investigated his mansion. Found his…”

Jotaro takes a deep breath, swallowing, and Kakyoin jerks on his coat sleeves. Jotaro glares at him from under the brim of his hat before dropping his head again. Coward, coward, coward-

“I found his diary. He mentioned some things, things that wouldn’t make sense if he had simply been born with a stand. We figured out he…used something to pull one out of himself. Figured out it was- an arrow, of some kind. We’ve been searching for the arrow – or arrows – since.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Kakyoin asks lowly, staring daggers into Jotaro.

Jotaro’s mouth shuts then, and he stays quiet.

“Who’s ‘we’, Kujo?!” Kakyoin snaps, and Jotaro twitches in his hold.

“Polnareff and I. You and Avdol were at the hospital.” Jotaro mutters. Kakyoin’s eye twitches. Polnareff knew too, and didn’t tell me?

“Why didn’t you tell me,” Kakyoin seethes, his tone so flat the words come out more like a statement than a question. Jotaro angles his head to the side as if he’s trying to escape the situation in some way. Kakyoin’s eye twitches and he tugs on Jotaro’s coat sleeves again. “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!”

“Kakyoin,” Jotaro says, voice wavering in a way Kakyoin can’t remember ever hearing it waver before, “you were in a coma, what do you-?”

“Why didn’t you tell me when I woke up, then?” Kakyoin counters, feeling, for all intents and purposes, like he was on fire, like liquid heat was running through his veins, despite the rain still falling on them. “Why didn’t Polnareff? Huh? I DESERVED TO KNOW!”

Jotaro’s hands clench and unclench into fists at his side. “It- I didn’t- I didn’t want you to know.”

Kakyoin blinks, hands almost dropping to his sides in shock before he grips the material of Jotaro’s coat even tighter than before, using the centimeters Jotaro has on him in height to his advantage and ducking closer, trying to stare Jotaro in the face, not allowing him a place to run. Jotaro jerks his head to the side and Kakyoin could almost laugh at how much like a panicked animal he’s behaving.

“Why?” Kakyoin hisses.

Jotaro is quiet for a moment, and Kakyoin clenches his teeth, preparing to shout again, when he says, “It- it was too dangerous. It is too dangerous. The stand arrows- they’re- they’re too important, and you-”

“And I what?!” Kakyoin barks, a fizz of sardonic chuckles rising up in his throat. “I can’t handle ‘dangerous’? Huh? I survived DIO, you stupid fucking-“

“But you almost died,” Jotaro counters quietly, “And I couldn’t- you- I didn’t-“

Jotaro sighs then, long and loud, lowering his hat even further down his face.

“You didn’t think I was strong enough,” Kakyoin finishes for him, snarling. Jotaro tenses underneath Kakyoin’s grip.

“No-”

Kakyoin shoves Jotaro back. Jotaro stumbles but catches himself against the wet pavement, and Kakyoin sneers. “No, I know, don’t worry. You’ve made it clear for ten years now you only see me as useless dead weight. That isn’t news to me, dammit, but-“ But Polnareff agreed? Polnareff kept this from me-? “-but I didn’t expect you to stoop so fucking low you would withold information I have a right to know because of it.”

“Kakyoin,” Jotaro drawls, sounding 20 years older than he is and more than a little exasperated, “that’s not- it’s just- you were in a coma! You almost died! And when you woke up we had already been searching and it just- it didn’t- you-”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Kujo!” Kakyoin barks, feeling like stomping his feet like a child, feeling like the rain was acid against his skin, burning, burning, burning . “You had no fucking right to keep this from me. It’s not like just knowing would’ve broken me, you dick! I’m a part of the fight against DIO just as much as you and Polnareff. You know what he did and how badly I want to erase him from this world for good, you know it’s just as personal to me, just as important, you knew that! I deserved to fucking know!”

Jotaro stays quiet. Then,

“This is why I didn’t want you here,” he says quietly, still hiding his face behind his cap. “I had suspicions the stand arrows were involved, and now-” Jotaro clenches his teeth, working his jaw from side to side. “Just go home.”

“No fucking way,” Kakyoin sneers. “If that prick that Angelo was talking about is in town, Josuke’s still in danger. I already told you I’m not going anywhere until he’s safe. You agreed to it! So shut the fuck up. I’m so fucking sick of you thinking I can’t handle shit.”

Kakyoin steps forward again, his crutches clicking against the pavement noisily, and when he gets close enough, he points a finger into Jotaro’s chest.

“Because contrary to your belief, Joseph trusts me, the Speedwagon Foundation trusts me, and I know my own abilities more than you do. I am not here for you, you’re not the say-all, end-all, so stop fucking acting like you are and treat me like a damn adult for once!!”

Thunder booms in the distance, and the rain begins to fall harder. Jotaro is still hiding his face.

“Send me all the information you have on stand arrows as soon as you can,” Kakyoin seethes, “Or I’m taking it from you. Got it?”

Jotaro stays silent. Kakyoin clenches his teeth, the flame in his veins rising in height, and he doesn’t even realize he’s raising his fist to punch Jotaro until the impact jolts up his arm and Jotaro’s face is snapped to the side.

Jotaro silently works his jaw, slowly moving it from side to side, but says nothing. Kakyoin gives him one more second, before he scoffs, and turns around.

“Fuck you, Kujo,” Kakyoin seethes, not bothering to turn back as he says it.

I need to get to the hotel, Kakyoin thinks to himself, fury muddling his thoughts and making everything in his brain as unattainable as smoke.

As he marches away, he can just faintly hear Josuke say, “Mr. Jotaro…what the hell was that about?” over the creaks of his crutches and the rush of rain. A small bead of embarrassment wells in his chest at the reminder that he just freaked out in front of Josuke, but the heat of shame gets lost in the heat of anger.

But as he walks, Kakyoin can’t help but feel wounded too, like a long but shallow cut was sliced into his chest. I deserved to know. Even if he tried to bar me from investigating with them, I deserved to know. Why did Polnareff go along with it? I thought…

Kakyoin sighs, his breath puffing out in a cloud of condensation against the cold rain. He needed to get dry. But once that was done, he’d call the Speedwagon Foundation and get some information on the stand arrows – at least they wouldn’t lie to him, not as a family friend of the Joestars.

His back aches in that awful, puffy way it does when it’s cold, like one wrong move and it would give out like a popped balloon. The ache spreads slowly, burrowing into his tissues and muscle. His legs are numb from the cold, the jostling of them as he pitches forward with his crutches distant, like he was feeling it with someone else’s nerve-endings. Kakyoin sighs, an edge in his voice.

He closes his eyes. The rain continues to fall.

I need a nap.

Chapter Text

When Kakyoin makes it back to his hotel room, he trips over his duffle bag.

“Fuck’s sake, ” Kakyoin hisses, kicking the bag further into the room and away from the doorway, before wincing as his back protests the movement, its cries echoing about his chest cavity.

Kakyoin grits his teeth, running a hand through his bangs, ignoring the sweat at the roots but feeling grossed out all the same.

Kakyoin jerkily slips his arms out of the bracers of his crutches, setting them against the wall next to the door, before he shucks off his cardigan and scarf, breathing harshly, ignoring how his back whimpers at the movement, the muscles reluctantly tensing to help him keep his balance, unhappy about their task.

Kakyoin snarls wordlessly as he lets the clothes simply fall to the floor. He kicks off his shoes and rips off his gloves, uncaring of where they land, and his crutches lose their balance, sliding down the wall and onto the floor.

“Come on!” Kakyoin snaps, voice edging into desperation, before he lowers into a crouch, hissing as he does, his anger pushing him to be fast, fast, fast, he needs to get energy out, but his pain urging him to slow down, slow down, slow down, it hurts.

His entire lower back shrieks when Kakyoin leans forward to grab his crutches, and he grits his teeth before jerkily righting himself, only for the snap movement to make his back hurt more, the nerves crying, crying, crying, all they ever did was fucking cry.

Kakyoin stands back up, taking the care to go slowly, but his anger spikes at the gentleness. He squeezes his eyes shut, continually grinding his teeth against each other. Why couldn’t his body figure out what it wanted him to fucking do?

Crutches back in his grasp, though, Kakyoin pitches forward towards his duffle bag, breath haggard in his lungs, coming out in short, hurried puffs. Sweat starts to form on Kakyoin’s brow again and he rolls his eyes at himself.

Kakyoin simply nudges the duffle bag towards the king-sized bed, falling into a pattern of pitch forward, nudge the bag, pitch forward, nudge the bag. Once the bag bumps against the bed frame, Kakyoin lets out a long sigh, before he moves gingerly around it and sits on the side of the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress.

Kakyoin simply sits for a moment, ignoring his back whining and scratching at his nerves as he slumps forward. He stares at his hands. His palms have gotten calluses since he’s had to use the crutches. Kakyoin curls his fingers around them and closes his eyes, breathing out slowly.

He breathes in after a moment of suspension, and his back momentarily flares in protest at the motion. Kakyoin’s upper lip picks up in a snarl and he sets his crutches down against the nightside table, taking more care to balance them this time so they don’t fall again.

Turning back to the duffle bag, Kakyoin huffs, eying the desaturated green material, and considers bending down and scooping it up onto the bed himself.

His back, as if sensing his intentions, begins wailing in agony again, sending the surrounding nerves into panic themselves. It feels like every atom that makes up the base of his spine is spazzing and jerking about, suddenly deciding that the very last thing they wanted was to make up his body any longer, but Kakyoin just scrubs his hands against his face before summoning Hierophant instead.

Hierophant’s lone tentacle easily shimmers into view, before it gracefully leans down and scoops up the duffle bag by one of its handles, then resting it against Kakyoin on the bed.

Kakyoin hums some sort of thanks, and Hierophant simply slips into his fingers, gently squeezing his palm. Some of the fire in Kakyoin’s chest eases, the flames battered down by the single reassurance, and Hierophant dissipates.

Kakyoin sighs again, running a hand through his hair, jerking his fingers through the locks before he makes it to the back of his head. He pulls out the hair tie holding his hair in a low ponytail.

His hair falls in a curtain around his face, and Kakyoin just rubs the bridge of his nose before he turns to the duffle bag.

His painkillers are in the side pocket, that damned orange plastic blinking at him between the netting. Kakyoin stares at it, unmoving for a moment, but his back lets out another cry, the sound echoing up his nervous system to make his useless brain produce pain receptors, and Kakyoin rolls his eyes before squeezing them shut as he reaches for the bottle.

Eyes still closed, Kakyoin unscrews the cap, movements fluid and practiced due to nine years of use. He holds out his other hand and shakes the bottle into it, feeling the small, round pills land in his hand.

After feeling the first few land, Kakyoin tilts the bottle straight again but still keeps his eyes closed. He raises his palm to his mouth and takes the dose, eyes still closed. He thinks he can feel three as he swallows, but he isn’t sure. He doesn’t want to be. He just wants his back to stop hurting.

Kakyoin sighs, shoulders slumping, before opening his eyes again, digging around the folds of the comforter to find where the cap went.

After a few seconds of rummaging, Kakyoin finds it, and caps the pill bottle again, eyes straying away from the labels and instructions on it.

He puts it back in his bag and gently pushes it off the bed before he simply flops down.

His hair is still wet from the rain and his roots are still crusted with dried sweat, but Kakyoin doesn’t care enough to get up and make his way to the shower right then.

He simply closes his eyes for a moment, breathing through the pain his back continuously relays back to him. His hotel room is quiet, the only sounds coming from the weather outside. The rain is slowing down, but it’s still coming nonetheless, tapping against the curtain-drawn window of his room.

Kakyoin opens his eyes again, staring up at the white ceiling. The small bit of grayish-blue lighting in his room is dimming, evident of the day coming to a close.

Kakyoin exhales, before he gingerly scoots up the bed, resting his head against one of the many pillows.

He closes his eyes, allowing his body to sink into the mattress as Hierophant sets up a barrier around the hotel room, stretching around the parameter in a practiced, fluid way.

He can shower after a quick nap…

As Kakyoin drifts off, the only thing that remains in focus is the pain in his back, slowly dying down as the medicine takes effect, but still present. It might always be.

Cairo, Egypt

January 16, 1989

After Joseph is confirmed to be stabilized, Jotaro can’t stop thinking of DIO’s sneering words about his friends dying.

He knows he was wrong about Avdol and Iggy – DIO had mocked him, saying that Avdol and Iggy were dead on the cold floors of his mansion, but Jotaro knew for a fact they had headed for the Speedwagon Foundation’s medical team after defeating Vanilla Ice with Polnareff – but he doesn’t actually know where Kakyoin is and the words DIO said about him can’t stop ringing in his head.

Right, Kakyoin Noriaki’s meddling…it’s a shame he had to die.

“Jiji,” Jotaro calls, and Joseph looks up at Jotaro’s looming form from his stretcher. Jotaro still wants to punch him for the stupid prank he pulled, but he resists, needing the information more than the stress release. “Where’s Kakyoin?”

Joseph hesitates a bit too long and Jotaro’s heart starts pounding.

“Jiji,” Jotaro presses, voice lowering into a growl, and Joseph buries his face in his hands, sighing deeply.

He raises his head, looking like his age for once, the wrinkles near his eyes, mouth, and on his forehead more pronounced under the harsh light of the ambulance than Jotaro had ever seen them before. “It’s-“

Jotaro lashes out, fist banging against one of the metal hand grips in the ambulance. “Where is he?”

Joseph pauses, swallowing thickly. “We were in an industrial part of town. South. He-” Joseph swallows again, sniffing. “…He should be in the remains of a water tower on some roof...shouldn’t be hard to find.” Well, at least he isn’t gonna stop me from trying to find him.

It’s vague directions but it’s enough. Despite the ambulance still moving, despite Joseph’s foreboding tone, despite his smarting ribs and aching shoulder, Jotaro kicks open the back doors. The doctors up front yell in confusion, and then in indignation, shouting at Jotaro to Stop, what are you doing?!

Jotaro turns to Joseph one last time, feeling like he was on fire with the coldest flames in existence. “Make sure someone follows me. A medical team.”

Joseph simply ducks his head in understanding and says nothing.

With that, Jotaro jumps out, leaving the doctors to deal with closing the swinging doors as he rolls the momentum out with his stand and then jumps back up, feet crashing against the pavement of the Cairo streets, eyes flashing wildly as he races through.

It really does feel like a fire in Jotaro’s chest, eating up his flesh and tissues and muscle like they were dry paper, but it hurts in the way ice does, sharp yet numbing, millions of tiny icicles stabbing into his flesh as the force rolls throughout him. Jotaro simply grits his teeth, ignores it, and runs, forcing the cold, Cairo winter air in and out of his lungs.

When the buildings around Jotaro start rising in height, meek appearances being washed away by advertisements and billboards and business signage, Jotaro turns into an alleyway, Star Platinum’s legs overlaying his own.

Jotaro breathes harshly, jerking up his gaze to lock eyes on his prize – the edge of one of the roofs of the buildings he’s sandwiched between. Jotaro sucks in a breath, crouches, and leaps.

Jotaro can distantly hear his stand cry out, a rush of power flooding his veins as Star Platinum’s strength merges with his own, and the lip of the roof rushes towards Jotaro’s face, the wind almost knocking his hat off.

Jotaro jerks an arm up, and his palm slaps against the concrete, his fingers digging in to find purchase, dirt and grit biting into his fingertips.

Jotaro swings his other arm up, raising himself up so his forearms rest on the edge, then kicks up a leg. The muscles in the appendage whine, no doubt past their breaking point, pulled too far, but Jotaro doesn’t care. His foot hooks onto the roof and Jotaro heaves himself up fully.

He stands, breaths coming in ragged huffs, and he remembers that he definitely has some broken ribs. All well. At least he’s not comatose. At least he can still do something.

Sucking in another breath, Jotaro summons Star Platinum once again, overlaying the stand’s legs on his own, and then he races towards the edge of the roof and jumps.

He lands with a smack of his soles against brick as he reaches the neighboring roof, and he only adjusts his hat and grimaces as he eyes the horizon with Star Platinum’s keen gaze overlaying his own, scanning for something amiss.

There, Jotaro spots, heart skipping a beat. Hundreds of meters away, he can see a deformed silhouette of a structure that seemingly used to be oval-shaped, bent and broken now.

Water tower on a roof, Jotaro remembers, and he begins running again.

Jotaro is sticky with sweat and blood, and the cold air whipping around him as he jumps from roof to roof with Star Platinum’s help just makes him shiver, but he keeps pushing, ignoring how the frigid air feels like ice in his lungs.

As Jotaro gets closer, he can see more details – and when he sees Kakyoin’s signature green uniform, lying limply in the midst of all the jagged, broken metal, Jotaro wills Star Platinum’s eyesight to stop merging with his own, if only to give him a few more seconds of blissful ignorance, his heart pounding low like it was stationed in his stomach and not his chest.

The attempt at denial doesn’t last long; even without the assistance of Star Platinum’s falcon-like eyes, Jotaro continues getting closer and thus, gets an increasingly better view of Kakyoin’s mutilated body.

He’s definitely unconscious (or so Jotaro hopes that’s all he is); his head hangs forward, bangs covering his eyes. There is a hole in his torso, jagged and crude, skin ripped and organs that never should’ve seen the light of day peeking out of what remains. Jotaro shudders when he sees it. He thought the worst thing he’d ever be witness to was the old man getting stabbed in the throat, but this was another level of gore and horror entirely.

He’s also drenched. The water tower more or less exploded when Kakyoin smashed into it, it seems. Water is everywhere and is still dripping down the roof to the streets below when Jotaro finally lands on the rooftop.

Jotaro only distantly feels the impact of landing zip up to his knees from his heels, like he’s seeing it happen to someone else rather than feeling it himself. He can’t stop staring at Kakyoin; his arms are hanging limply amid the wrangled metal, pinned in place. Dried blood is crusted against the side of his face and mouth.

For a moment, Jotaro thinks the worst – How long has it even been for the rest of the world? Two minutes? – taking a few steps towards Kakyoin before falling to his knees into the giant puddle the roof has become, feeling the water soak into his pants as he stares at the completely decimated body of his best friend.

He said he’d be okay, he said to trust him, what happened, what happened, what happened-

Kakyoin’s eyelids flutter though, purple peeking out between a white face, and Jotaro is so relieved the emotion floods into his stomach, up to his chest, up to the base of his throat, like he was a broken water tower himself.

“Kakyoin,” Jotaro breathes, standing back up, taking another step towards Kakyoin.

Kakyoin lifts his head just a bit, his sweat and blood-crusted bangs shifting stiffly across his forehead. Kakyoin’s chest heaves like he’s trying to take a deep breath, and Jotaro’s stomach lurches when he can see the bottom of Kakyoin’s lungs, purple and shiny and shriveled, as they strain to follow through on the command, pulsing with the need to inflate.

Kakyoin rests his head back against the water tower, coughing lightly before he tries opening his eyes again. This time, he’s more successful.

He lifts his gaze to Jotaro, who’s only an arm’s length away now.

“…J’taro?” Kakyoin mutters, eyes scanning sloppily and slowly over Jotaro’s face before he closes them again, and Jotaro shudders with a silent sob, his throat closing up as the relief and a new brand of fear climb up his airway.

“It’s me,” Jotaro finally manages, his voice lacking the edge he needs to hide behind more than ever right now, gingerly stepping forward one more time and taking Kakyoin’s hand, gently bringing his arm down from where it was pinned against the metal. His fingers are so, so cold, and Jotaro tells himself it’s just because of the water and the freezing air.

“Oh, good,” Kakyoin murmurs, glassy eyes straining to focus on Jotaro’s face, but he ends up going near-cross-eyed at the effort. Jotaro would laugh if it were under any other circumstance. “You’re alive. We won then?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jotaro snaps as he slowly, with Star Platinum’s help, dismantles Kakyoin from the bent and torn metal of the water tower. It was still soaked. It reeked of iron and something a little meatier, like beef that had been left out to thaw for just a touch too long. Jotaro felt like throwing up, felt like his head was too light and his body too heavy.

Kakyoin grimaces as he’s moved, face scrunching up in pain, and Jotaro has to bite back apology after apology as he and Star Platinum continue to peel him away from the wet, broken tower.

Kakyoin inhales sharply when Jotaro has him slouch his upper body against his shoulder as he works on gently freeing his legs. Jotaro freezes, but Kakyoin continues to squirm, sharp gasps filling the air.

“Jo- Jojo-” Kakyoin wheezes, and Jotaro bites his lip before simply having Star Platinum yank the metal away from Kakyoin’s legs, freeing them but breaking the water tower even more, the metal groaning and screeching away under Star Platinum’s hands. All well, Jotaro thinks desperately as he lays Kakyoin down, kneeling along with him as he sets Kakyoin’s legs flat against the roof, keeping his torso cradled in his arms. It’s already broken anyway.

Kakyoin sighs, closing his eyes, head lolling the slightest bit into the crook of Jotaro’s arm, and Jotaro’s heart squeezes, like the valves connecting it to his veins turned traitor and wrapped around the muscle instead, choking it out.

Jotaro slouches, and, uncaring that more water will soak into his pants, settles into a cross-legged sitting position, gently bringing his free arm up to brush away Kakyoin’s stiff, crusty bangs.

A trickle of warmth seeps into one of the knees of his pants, and Jotaro jerks his gaze, only to see his own leg staring at him through Kakyoin’s wound, blood still splattering from it.

Jotaro swallows back bile and a rush of nausea, and instead rests Kakyoin down in his lap, huddled safely against his stomach, as he takes his jacket off slowly, trying not to jostle the boy in his arms. Kakyoin makes a small noise as his face is settled against Jotaro’s hip.

“You smell like sweat,” Kakyoin protests quietly, wrinkling his nose, and it’s so out of left-field that Jotaro barks out a laugh, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and pulling the redhead closer with an arm that’s now free from his sleeve.

“Shut the hell up,” he says before gingerly draping his jacket over the wound in Kakyoin’s torso, gut lurching at the sight. Blood was still oozing from the hole, though the cold temperature of the water probably helped to staunch the flow. Still…how the hell was Kakyoin still alive?

Kakyoin tries to chuckle, but he ends up with a mouthful of blood for it, and Jotaro has to turn him onto his side so he doesn’t choke to death.

Kakyoin retches, throat trying its damnedest to get the blood out of its airway, and Jotaro feels completely and utterly useless, only able to stare as his best friend wheezes and huffs and coughs, red flaking against and staining his teeth, before he flops down onto his back in Jotaro’s arms.

“Hm…” Kakyoin hums, the sound crackly and broken from the rocks of his throat, “Don’t think…I have much longer now.”

Jotaro grits his teeth, fingers digging into Kakyoin’s shoulder. “No. Shut up. The Speedwagon Foundation is on its way. Just hold on, okay?”

Kakyoin shakes his head, the movements only centimeters. Jotaro can only truly track it because of Kakyoin’s bangs stiffly shifting side to side across his forehead with the motion. “Can’t control that, Jo…Jojo.”

Jotaro grits his teeth, shoulders hunched, as he bows his head closer to Kakyoin’s, bringing his other arm to wrap around Kakyoin’s chest. “I said shut up. Shut up, you asshole, just listen to me for once-”

Kakyoin chuckles again, only to cough and wheeze because of it, and he sounds so weak, so fragile, so completely out of character, and Jotaro doesn’t know what to do, everyone keeps dying and he doesn’t know what to do. Star Platinum shimmers into existence beside Jotaro then, but he only hardly notices.

Star Platinum reaches into Kakyoin’s chest, and, precise as always, finds Kakyoin’s heart, finds where to place his fingers, and pumps the organ for him, giving the straining muscles a break.

Kakyoin shifts uncomfortably, his brows furrowing in confusion, but Jotaro just says, “Shut up. Shut up. Just- be quiet, Kakyoin,” before he can say anything.

Kakyoin sighs, grimacing, cracking open his eyes into slits again. Jotaro almost wishes he wouldn’t, wishes Kakyoin couldn’t see the panic and fear in his face, but the reminder that Kakyoin is still alive is more welcomed than the potential wound to his pride isn’t.

“Thank you...for saving me,” Kakyoin heaves, voice rough and cracked like the flakes of dried blood on the side of his face. “Sss…sorry I couldn’t do- more.”

“Wh- what the fuck are you talking about?” Jotaro croaks, the sound alarmingly close to wet, fear and anger messily sloshing up to his throat from his chest, trying to choke him, maybe even drown him.

Kakyoin’s eyes finally focus on Jotaro’s face, and he smiles -- it’s thin, but because his mouth is so goddamn wide, it’s noticeable. “You gave me...a second chance. Gave me-” Kakyoin grits his teeth, shuddering, and Jotaro’s hands skitter, Star Platinum nervously continuing to pump Kakyoin’s heart.

Kakyoin heaves, eyelids starting to slip closed again, but his pupils fight to remain on Jotaro’s face.

“Gave me…a real life. I’m just…s’rry I couldn’t do more, with it.” Kakyoin finishes, and Jotaro furiously shakes his head because no, no, no-

“No,” Jotaro snarls, his voice wavering too much for it to be threatening, “No, what kind of life is this? What kind of life is dying at 17 for a family you only knew for 50 days?”

Kakyoin coughs, but it sounds like a laugh, and it rings in Jotaro’s head like it broke his eardrums. “Th’ best life. ‘m glad…” Kakyoin’s eyes slip closed again, and Jotaro shudders, accidentally jostling him.

“It wasn’t shit. You deserve more than this. You’re not going to fucking die, not because-”

“Did you get m’ message?” Kakyoin asks abruptly, and though his voice is so, so quiet, it stops Jotaro in his tracks anyway.

“What?” Jotaro asks, the sound coming out wet and broken like Kakyoin’s body.

“M’ message…DIO could stop time…did- did Mr. Joestar-?”

Another full-body shudder takes over Jotaro, and Star Platinum looks at its user in concern, but Jotaro just shakes his head rapidly. “Fuck. Fuck, Kakyoin, did you- yes. I got it. But I’m not letting you die because you were trying to send a message-”

“It’s the least I could do for you,” Kakyoin murmurs.

For me. For me. For me. Jotaro cannot stop staring, eyes wide, cold making his arms and legs go numb.

“I never asked that of you,” Jotaro croaks, voice so wet and so dry at the same time, and it makes him want to claw his own throat. “I never wanted- I didn’t-”

Kakyoin chuckles sleepily, turning his face to rest against Jotaro’s bare arm. He’s so cold, his cheek like ice against his skin. Jotaro blinks, and his vision becomes blurry, distorted, and it’s only then Jotaro realizes he’s on the verge of tears.

“I know you didn’t,” Kakyoin says, mouth only just able to move to form the words, speech slurring as his lips and tongue give up in their effort to speak. “But I wanted to.”

Jotaro bites his lip, tearing at the skin as the fast, swirling emotions in his throat surge even higher, making it to his eyes, blurring his vision. “Why? Why would you want that?”

Kakyoin smiles again, humming, eyelids fluttering but never quite able to open. “Already told you, s...stupid; ‘s least I could do. F…F’r my best friend,”

Kakyoin’s head slumps further against Jotaro’s stomach, and Jotaro can only stare. Kakyoin’s eyes aren’t completely closed, a slip of both his pupils showing off how glazed over they are. There’s red splattered on his hands and it shows off how pale Kakyoin’s skin is in contrast. Another trickle of blood creeps down Kakyoin’s lip, slowly. Jotaro’s knee is still getting soaked with his blood.

Jotaro blinks, and his vision focuses the tiniest bit as a tear falls from his eye, taking most of the blur with it. His hearing has faded only to ringing. He can do nothing but stare at Kakyoin, limp in his arms, as Star Platinum continues to pump his heart for him, tears falling and falling and falling, adding to the bloody puddle on the roof.

Jotaro screams when a hand clasps onto his shoulder, his head whipping up with an animalistic snarl as he lowers down to cover Kakyoin with his body.

The person raises both hands in surrender, and Jotaro blinks, before realizing it’s a doctor, and behind her is a team with a stretcher, and a helicopter.

“Can you hear me, Mr. Kujo?” She asks, and Jotaro can, but only faintly. He nods anyway. “We need to take Mr. Kakyoin to the hospital now. Can you please let go of him?”

Jotaro says nothing. The doctor motions to her team anyway.

Jotaro blinks, not moving, as the medical team steps past the doctor and over to him and Kakyoin, setting the stretcher down in front of them.

Jotaro turns his head to watch them but doesn’t put up a fight when they gently pry Kakyoin from his arms and lay him down on the stretcher. They keep the jacket over him. Jotaro feels like throwing up again.

The team begins to move then, heading back to the helicopter, and Jotaro stares down at the bloody, wet concrete for a moment, as the events after Kakyoin lost consciousness begin catching up to him. His muscles are so tired, the ache slowly grounding him again. Jotaro’s brow furrows slowly, and he blinks, before realizing it’s not just an ache, it feels like his muscles are being pulled-

The doctor’s hand leaves his shoulder as she, presumably, goes to see to Kakyoin, and Jotaro jumps up, twirling around as he does, still feeling the strain on his muscles that let him know Star Platinum is still by Kakyoin’s side, pumping his heart, but the distance had to be closed now if that were to continue.

“Wait- WAIT-!” Jotaro shrieks, rushing forward and grabbing the doctor’s sleeve. She jumps, turning to Jotaro with wide eyes and furrowed brows, but he continues before she can say anything, “He- my stand- I-“ Jotaro viciously scrubs his face with his free hand, biting at his palm as he does before he continues with, “I’m the one who’s keeping his heart beating right now. You have to let me go with him.”

She frowns, the furrow between her brows shifting to something sadder than surprise. “Sir-”

“I’m serious,” Jotaro hisses, glaring at her. “You’re Speedwagon Foundation, you know this situation has centered on weird supernatural shit. This is a part of that. Please,” Jotaro closes his eyes then, biting the inside of his lip so hard he almost thinks he’ll tear a chunk off, every fiber of his being hating the show of pathetics he’s putting on, but if it can get him to Kakyoin ... “I- I can keep him alive while you do surgery. And whatever else you’ll need to do. Please.”

She is still frowning, her dark face looking flushed out in the early dawn light. Jotaro counts the seconds it takes for her to respond, teeth grinding harder and harder against each other the longer it takes.

Finally, she sighs and says, “Okay. But be sure to stay out of our way. This is going to be one hell of an emergency already.”

Jotaro could’ve dropped from the relief that floods his veins, but he knows he’s not out of the woods yet. So instead, he nods, lets go of the doctor, and rushes up the steps of the helicopter, heart pounding a tune of desperation, less of a ba-bump and more of a please-live in his chest.

Multiple surgeries, flatline scares, and almost a full day later, somewhere around eight in the evening, Jotaro stands in Kakyoin’s machine-crowded hospital room alone.

He listens to the clicks and whirs of the machines keeping him stable, staring at, but not registering, how pale his face is. He wonders how many times Kakyoin has been in the hospital since knowing him.

The thought almost makes him wince, but the dull ache echoing from his whole body, particularly his chest, keeps him from finding the anxious energy to do so.

He stares down at his first friend’s -- best friend’s -- body. Kakyoin was not fragile, Jotaro knew this objectively. Fragile people couldn’t have stands -- that was the whole reason Jotaro was here, wasn’t it? His mother didn’t have the strength to handle her stand, so they had to get rid of the source -- fragile people couldn’t have stands, but Kakyoin had had Hierophant Green his whole life.

This objectivity does not stop Jotaro from thinking Kakyoin looked so small on the nth hospital bed he’s been on in only one and a half months. His skin is so pale it blended into the white cot and white hospital gown and white floor and white walls and white ceiling. His hair is the only striking color in the room and it churns Jotaro’s gut because it’s the same color as the red staining the bandages and cotton in the trash can.

So many tubes go into the hole in Kakyoin’s stomach that Jotaro’s brain forgets to make him queasy, because while he is looking at the brutal mutilation of his friend, there are now too many wires and -ilators hooked into it that he can hardly recognize it as human. It’s like Kakyoin cuts off after his neck; the rest is covered with metal and bandages and cloth and Jotaro’s brain can’t bridge that to the fact that it’s still Kakyoin under all of it to make it click.

Jotaro stares at his friend and wonders how many more times Kakyoin will end up here, hurt, unconscious, on death’s door, because of him.

It’s the least I could do. For my best friend.

The last words Kakyoin said to him haven’t stopped ringing in his head since he said them. Jotaro feels nauseous. He might as well have been the one to punch the hole in Kakyoin’s stomach, huh? The only reason Kakyoin was there was because- because of him-

Jotaro closes his eyes and swallows, taking his hat off with one hand and running the other through his hair. He’s exhausted. He hasn’t slept for over 36 hours now. His own injuries were only treated haphazardly, solely because Jotaro was passing out due to his stupid broken ribs robbing him of oxygen, and he didn’t want to leave it up to chance on if Star Platinum would continue pumping Kakyoin’s heart if he went unconscious.

But now that the ordeal was done, he should probably go get a brace for his shoulder as the doctor recommended. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep, though.

The beeps that signify Kakyoin’s heartrate ring in Jotaro’s ears like he’s underwater.

Jotaro opens his eyes again and forces himself to look Kakyoin in the face. He has an oxygen mask on, his lungs not yet healed enough to brave getting air on their own. Jotaro found out during one of the many surgeries he’d had to watch while pumping his heart that both were punctured with broken ribs.

Such intense sudden impact, the doctors had exclaimed as they worked on keeping Kakyoin breathing. How was it possible?

Jotaro knew. He was capable of the same thing.

His stomach is empty -- somewhere around the second lung being inflated and the rib stabbing it being removed and reset, he had finally thrown up -- but it still lurches regardless at the reminder of what he was capable of.

Jotaro’s so tired. But as tired as he is, he knows Kakyoin is worse off.

It’s the least I could do. For my best friend.

Best friend...right.

Jotaro bites his lip, teeth digging into the skin harshly, the muscle trying to push against the pressure, but the skin covering it is not strong enough, splitting under the edge of his teeth. The taste of iron fills his mouth and Jotaro’s stomach surges again, churning against its own walls. Jotaro swallows thickly.

Kakyoin deserves a best friend who wouldn’t get him killed before he was 20 damn years old.

Jotaro exhales shakily, getting one last view of Kakyoin. Despite the mess of tubes and wires and -iltators and mask attached to Kakyoin’s entire body, his expression looks relatively peaceful. He looks how he did when he was asleep, memories of how Kakyoin had looked when they’d shared hotel rooms and slept next to each other when camping outside mirroring the expression Kakyoin has now.

He was beautiful, despite his dirty hair and too-pale face and unnatural stillness and mess of medical equipment in and on him.

Jotaro’s heart aches, like it was scraped against a patch of gravel and left bleeding as the grit dug into the cuts.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Jotaro turns on his heel and leaves the room.

Chapter Text

Kakyoin wakes up to a ringing in his ears.

His eyes open slowly to face the shadows of night in his room, Hierophant’s tentacles strung about the area, their trademark green glow gently brightening up the place like lines of fairy lights.

Kakyoin blinks blearily before slowly sitting up, leaning against the headboard of his bed, and rubbing his eyes, the ringing in his ears fading as he does. His movements are slow, languid, like his muscles are having trouble tensing up enough from their relaxed state to listen to him.

Kakyoin hums which transitions into a sigh, leaning his head back, thumping it against the cool, polished wood of the headboard. The rain has stopped now, the only evidence of its existence being the occasional drips from the gutter somewhere at the top of the building, falling all the way down to the wet earth and puddles below, which Kakyoin can hear from his ground-level hotel room.

He simply stares at nothing for a moment as Hierophant quietly unravels from around the hotel room, winding back to Kakyoin’s sleepy, almost dazed, form. One of Hierophant’s tentacles brushes at Kakyoin’s arm, and Kakyoin hums, closing his eyes.

“Hey buddy,” Kakyoin mumbles, his lips barely parting for the words to be let out. “Nothing suspicious happen while I was out?”

Hierophant pats his arm as if to say, Nothing to worry about, boss.

Kakyoin hums. “Good...that’s good.”

Hierophant hesitates as if concerned, but Kakyoin recalls him and the stand disappears.

Kakyoin just breathes for a minute, his brain finally producing some endorphins -- or maybe that was just his drugs’ doing, Kakyoin thinks, making him grimace -- as his lungs expand with air and then deflate again, over and over, the muscles and tissues stretching and falling lax with the movement. It was almost ridiculous how good simply breathing could feel.

He almost falls back asleep, but he hears a door down the hall close suddenly, and the echo of the thud and click as the door locks into place makes Kakyoin jump, his eyes jerking open again.

He hums, before stretching his arms, his muscles squeezing in appreciation.

Kakyoin rolls his head to look at the desk in the far corner that his room had been provided with. On top of it is a phone.

“Hierophant,” Kakyoin murmurs, and a tentacle reappears, twisting out towards the phone.

It snakes over to the desk, slipping under to unplug it from the outlet, before rising back up and wrapping around the holder, hoisting it up and carefully carrying it back to Kakyoin’s nightstand.

Kakyoin sits up a little more as Hierophant carries it over, rubbing his eyes and yawning, his eyelids heavy but his brain slowly waking up again. Hopefully, this wouldn’t take long, and Kakyoin could go back to bed soon…

Kakyoin huffs out a small laugh at hismelf. Maybe Josuke was right; I am old.

Hierophant sets the phone down on the nightstand, and loops under with the cord to plug it into the new outlet.

Kakyoin can hear the low-pitched, smooth slide of metal against plastic as it’s slotted into the wall, and he rubs his eyes one more time before he reaches over and flicks on the bedside lamp.

His room is bathed in warm orange, sharpening the shadows of the room, and Kakyoin squints as his eyes protest the sudden flood of light. His back is trying to send his brain...something, some sort of signal, but all Kakyoin really feels from the tangle of nerves his spine is is just static. No doubt it’s the work of his painkillers.

Kakyoin hums and then reaches over to the phone, picking it up with one hand and slowly tapping at the number pad with the other.

He dials the Speedwagon Foundation’s headquarters, the number so ingrained that his fingers automatically dart to the corresponding keys. Kakyoin isn’t sure if he still actually remembers the phone number with his conscious brain, or if it’s through muscle memory only.

Regardless, he finishes dialing, and he brings the receiver to his ear.

There’s only one ring before a secretary picks up. “Good morning! This is the Speedwagon Foundation. How may I help you?”

Kakyoin blinks, his brain starting to chug along faster to catch up with conversation. Right, timezones…

“Er- hi. This is Kakyoin Noriaki.”

The secretary pauses for a moment, probably searching his name in some database, before saying, “Ah, Mr. Kakyoin, a friend of the Joestars I see! What can I do for you?”

Kakyoin squints, smothering a snort that wants to escape his chest. Nepotism...all well. At least I benefit from it in this case.

“Can you forward me to Mohammed Avdol?” Kakyoin asks instead, and the SPW secretary pauses for a moment. Probably checking if Avdol was in a meeting… Kakyoin does finally snort at the mental image of Avdol being stuck in a boardroom with a bunch of businessmen.

“Sure, he should be free right now,” The secretary says after the pause, and Kakyoin nods.

After a few more distant clacks that Kakyoin can only assume come from the secretary’s computer, he’s put on hold as the call transfers.

Kakyoin closes his eyes and leans his head back, holding the phone a distance away from his ear so he doesn’t have to endure the preppy hold music for as long. It’s way too late for that...

He doesn’t have to wait long, though; after only a minute of being on hold, the phone clicks as the call pulls through, and Kakyoin jerks the receiver back to his ear.

“Kakyoin!” Avdol greets, and Kakyoin relaxes against the headboard, something about hearing his old friend’s deep, clear voice ringing out from the phone making him sink more fully into the bed, his muscles going lax.

“Avdol,” Kakyoin breathes out in greeting, closing his eyes.

“It’s been so long!” Avdol says, his smile audible in his voice, as infectious as it would be in person that Kakyoin can’t help but smile as well.

“Yeah,” Kakyoin murmurs, “sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Avdol easily brushes off, “we’ve both been busy I’m sure. You’re still looking for a topic to write your doctorate on after all, yeah?”

Kakyoin hums, flashes zipping through his mind of the last several months he spent in Greece, doing nothing of real value except becoming absolutely certain he could never be interested enough to write a dissertation on the culture there. “...Mm. Sure. It’s kinda on hold right now, though,”

“Oh?” Avdol prompts, and Kakyoin blinks, eyes opening a little bit more from the half-lidded state they had been in.

He sits up a bit, swallowing, suddenly reminded of the reason for his call, something tight taking root where his stomach would be if he still had it. “Yeah, I…” Kakyoin breathes out a quick sigh, steeling himself, before saying, “I’m, uh, back in Japan right now, for a favor for Mr. Joestar.”

Avdol pauses. “Really?” He asks, tone even but voice heightened in curiosity, and Kakyoin has to wonder if Avdol even knows about Josuke. What was with his friend group becoming so secretive lately?

“Er- yeah,” Kakyoin starts, stepping as hesitantly as he would if he was trying to cross an iced pond that he wasn’t sure was completely frozen over. “...Do you know about his son?”

Avdol hums an affirmation and Kakyoin lets out a relieved breath. “I know...some, at least. Mr. Joestar hasn’t told me much himself, but Suzi -- Mrs. Joestar -- has called me to talk a little. I was just as much a friend of hers as I was Mr. Joestar’s,” He explains. “But the calls mostly focus on her feelings and her and Mr. Joestar’s marriage, not his son.”

Kakyoin nods. “He’s a good kid.” He hesitates, squinting. “He’s been through a lot, the past week. But he’s strong. He has a stand, you know?”

“Oh?” Avdol asks, and Kakyoin can hear how he perked up over this tidbit of information, making him smile. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised...if Suzi was right and he is 16 now, he would’ve been alive during the...during the journey to Egypt. It’s possible he developed his stand from that.”

Kakyoin nods. “Mhm. Don’t know if that’s for sure the reason, but he’s had his stand since he was a kid.”

“Fascinating…” Avdol murmurs and Kakyoin smiles again -- but the muscles are tight as if the sludge in the center of his chest was winding them back, coercing them into tension-strung wires.

“He’s a good kid,” Kakyoin repeats. “I’m glad Mr. Joestar called me in to watch over him.”

Avdol pauses. “...Oh. Yeah,” He starts, voice jerky with confusion, “but- I just- didn’t Mr. Joestar already send Jotaro to Japan regarding that matter?”

Kakyoin scowls, rolling his head to pin the phone to his shoulder with the weight of it. “Sure. He did. But his job is actually mostly digging around the stand business here, and apparently, he can’t also keep the kid safe while he does that. So Mr. Joestar sent me to watch over Josuke -- the kid.”

Avdol hums again, tone low in minor disapproval, and Kakyoin squints at it, the tight sludge in taking residence in the hole his stomach left spreading out to the rest of his chest cavity.

“I’m actually calling in relation to that -- because he can’t actually do anything on his own despite his arrogance-”

“Kakyoin…” Avdol says, tone chastizing, but Kakyoin’s eyes just narrow.

“Despite his arrogance,” Kakyoin continues, and Avdol sighs, making him twitch, “and so the kid got involved in stand nonsense.”

Avdol does pause then, thoughtful, and Kakyoin takes a deep breath, his lungs’ attempt to get air stunted due to the tightness still spreading around them.

“And since it’s my job to help the kid,” Kakyoin leads, “I need to be able to help fight -- which is fine,” Kakyoin spits when he hears Avdol take a breath to say something, “-- and which is why I am calling you right now.”

Avdol pauses, the silence heavy with disapproval and worry and sadness, tangled together like a rope made of three twined threads, snaking around Kakyoin’s throat, rough fibers biting into the skin. He twitches again, but he doesn’t comment. “...Where are you going with this?” Avdol finally asks, and Kakyoin takes a deep breath.

“I don’t know how confidential this is,” Kakyoin starts dryly, “so I decided I’d just go straight to you.”

Avdol hums, his tone monotonous, an irritated prompt for Kakyoin to continue. Kakyoin swallows back a sudden wave of thick, cold dread that tries to wash up his throat.

“Care to fill me in on what stand arrows are?”

Silence rings out between the phone line, only the soft static of long-distance proving that Avdol hadn’t hung up. Kakyoin is holding his breath despite his heart falling, falling, falling, down the chasm of his chest, down to the depths of his stomach, and getting ensnared by his intestines.

Finally, he can hear Avdol inhale softly. “What happened?”

Kakyoin can feel a match light itself on the tightened muscles of his stomach, and then fall to set his gut ablaze. “So you did know- and you did keep this from me!” He snarls, lip curling in anger.

Avdol sighs, sounding all of his 30-something years, and Kakyoin has half the mind to feel bad for his accusatory stance. Still, if this was proof of anything, it’s that he was purposefully kept out of the loop…

“What happened?” Avdol asks again, his voice soft, only just coming through the receiver.

Kakyoin’s eyes narrow. “Does that matter? Just give me the gist and I won’t even badger you about why you decided to leave me in the dark, even though I had a right to kno-”

“Kakyoin,” Avdol interjects, voice still quiet and full of faux gentleness, like he’s trying to calm a spooked animal, making Kakyoin grit his teeth, jaw shaking with the tension, “I can’t…I don’t…”

He sighs again. Kakyoin can feel mean comments building on his tongue, like the venom dripping from a snake’s fangs into its own maw, but he keeps his mouth shut for now.

“I understand how it might look, and how you might feel, but-”

“Oh, okay, so we are gonna get into this,” Kakyoin snarls, and Avdol just sighs. Kakyoin swears he can see red, that painfully familiar fire in his veins flaring and spitting like a hooded snake, flickering past his eyes. “Do not give me that-”

“You have a right to know,” Avdol says, and Kakyoin shuts his mouth, almost biting his tongue. “You’re right that perhaps it was unfair to not tell yo-”

“‘Perhaps?!’” Kakyoin barks, fingers tightening around the phone in his hand, tips digging into the plastic, “just ‘perhaps?’ You literally just admitted I had a right to kn-”

“You have a right to know why we didn’t tell you,” Avdol amends, and Kakyoin’s face pinches into an animalistic snarl, teeth bared at nothing as the words dance around his skull, bouncing off the insides of his head, making him dizzy, making him overwhelmed, he’s out of control, he needs to be in control, dammit.

“You were in your coma when we found out DIO wasn’t a natural standuser,” Avdol’s baritone voice begins to softly explain, not at all the commanding or charming or friendly tone Kakyoin knew as a teenager. “And you were in rehabilitation when we found out he got one through a special type of arrow specifically-”

“So what,” Kakyoin spits, clutching the phone so tightly a part of him worried it would splinter into plastic and wiring right in his hand, “because I- I was an addict, I didn’t get to know? I was too weak to know-?”

“Kakyoin,” Avdol interrupts sternly, voice rolling over Kakyoin and making him feel like he was drowning in boiling water, “that’s not it. I know you know that’s not it.”

“Then what the hell was it?!” Kakyoin snaps, fingers shaking, shoulders wracking with rage. Hierophant slips out and curls around his wrist comfortingly, but Kakyoin doesn’t acknowledge it. “What else could it possibly have been, huh?!”

“You needed to focus on getting better,” Avdol says, voice regaining the level of composure Kakyoin was used to it having, “and we- Polnareff, actually, was the one who decided, if you knew about the stand arrows…it would distract you from that.”

Kakyoin’s heart stops racing, tripping over its own pace, and his vision blacks out for a moment.

Kakyoin blinks, and his vision comes back, his grip on the phone now so light it almost slips out of his hands. “...Polnareff? Polnareff decided-?”

“Jotaro didn’t want you to know about DIO when you woke up,” Avdol starts, voice low with a smooth rumble, just like thunder, “and Polnareff and I agreed to keep it from you so you could focus on school -- and on your life in general.”

Kakyoin twitches.

“Then, we found out it was arrows specifically, and Polnareff didn’t want you to know so you could focus solely on getting better while at rehabilitation.” Avdol finishes. “...And I agreed.”

Kakyoin feels like the room is spinning around him, confusion and rage and hurt sloshing in his gut, oil on water, fire on oil, smoke curling up his throat and watering his eyes.

Kakyoin furiously blinks the moisture away, willing his anger to evaporate it as he digs the nails of his free hand into his palm, small pinpricks of pain biting into his flesh.

“You had no right,” Kakyoin finally says, lowly, tone akin to a snake weaving through tallgrass, “you had no right- who the fuck do you think you are, getting to make that decision? I could’ve helped- I could’ve- I thought-” I thought we were friends. The words stick to Kakyoin’s throat like flies to a honey trap, childish and helpless and pathetic and so, so weak.

“We weren’t going to keep you in the dark forever,” Avdol offers weakly, voice beginning to become edged with desperation, and Kakyoin rolls his again-watering eyes, scoffing.

“Yeah, sure, maybe, but it’s been ten years already. Were you going to keep me in the dark until it was over and dealt with?” He snaps sarcastically.

But Avdol stays quiet at the accusation and Kakyoin can feel himself become engulfed in flame, like something in him exploded and sent the flames flying everywhere, inside and out.

“Were you seriously never planning on letting me help? Not even a fucking little?!”

“We had already come so far-” Avdol starts, sounding more than a little exasperated, and Kakyoin lets out a bubble of laughter, his voice edged with fury.

“It took you years to find out it was even an arrow, don’t fuck with me! There’s no real reason you couldn’t have told me when I woke up from the coma! Just because fucking Kujo doesn’t trust me anymore doesn’t mean you needed to follow in his-”

“It’s not about Jotaro,” Avdol argues quietly, and Kakyoin is about to snark something back when he continues with, “DIO had already taken so much from you.” It’s almost like a whisper, the words only gently brushing against Kakyoin’s eardrums from the speaker of the phone, but they shut Kakyoin up as effectively as if they had been yelled.

There is a pause, but it only lasts for a moment.

“He didn’t -- doesn’t -- need to take more years of your life-”

“That’s bullshit,” Kakyoin snarls, snapping back into reality, his voice alarmingly wet, prompting him to scrub his free hand against his eyes roughly, “he took your arms , but still you-“

“And he took your legs,” Avdol counters, voice deep in desperation and anger, the loudest it’s been since the greeting that started the conversation, “and your spine, and your stomach, and your last year of high school, and your dream of attending school in Cairo, and your freewill, and-”

“SHUT UP!” Kakyoin shrieks, squeezing his eyes shut.

There is a pause where the only sound is Kakyoin shakily breathing, his lungs feeling like they collapsed with how useless they currently are at getting oxygen back to his brain. Kakyoin’s head is spinning, he is going to be sick-

“I- Kakyoin,” Avdol starts, voice immediately dropping the venom it had only a sentence ago, “I’m so sorry, that was too much- I just-”

“Shut up,” Kakyoin shakily snarls, voice lacking the edge he needs to stabilize it but not the venom he needs to lash out, tears welling up in his eyes again before he hastily scrubs his face once more, teeth clenched, eyes beginning to feel sore and raw.

Avdol listens to him then, a guilty silence plaguing his line of the call as Kakyoin breathes haggardly, his throat continuously catching like something was stuck, like something was choking him from the inside out. His spine is starting to ache again through the painkillers. Kakyoin digs the fingers of his free hand into his hair and angrily scratches an arc across his scalp.

Kakyoin takes a deep breath, focusing on his lungs more than his throat as he does it in an attempt to stop choking . It kind of works.

Kakyoin takes another breath and runs a hand through his hair before he tightens his grip on the phone again.

“Regardless of what you wanted for me,” Kakyoin spits lowly, “I know now. And I need to protect the kid — protect Josuke. So tell me everything so I can be prepared, dammit!”

Avdol is quiet, still, and Kakyoin needs to remind himself that the presence of static means he’s still on the line; he hasn’t hung up...yet.

Then, Avdol lets out a long, long sigh, once again sounding his age. “...Alright,” he concedes, and Kakyoin can picture the gesture of his head as he says it, “...that’s fair. I’ll fax you the most up-to-date file.”

Kakyoin lets out a breath and closes his eyes, letting his head fall back against the headboard with a dull thud.

“Great,” He says flatly. “I’m at the Morioh Grand Hotel. Ask the SPW for more details if you need and fax it to the front desk for me or something.”

“Kakyoin,” Avdol says softly, his voice deep and sorrowful, like a rocky shore when it’s overcast, waves melancholically lapping over the smooth stones, and Kakyoin just squeezes his eyes shut tighter. “I am sorry. I never wanted you to find out like thi-”

“Goodnight, Avdol,” Kakyoin cuts off, his own voice quiet, more tired than angry now, before he hangs up.

His hand hovers over the receiver after the deed is done. Kakyoin blinks down at his own hand before his actions finally catch up to him, and the tightness in his stomach and chest that never went away even with the fire of anger begins to strangle him, leaving him cold, freezing from the inside out.

I’ll call later, Kakyoin decides, tomorrow, but the cold stays. Kakyoin swallows. His tongue feels heavy and swollen. The fire in his veins is out.

He shivers, before he hunches forward, burying his face in his hands.

There’s a gentle tugging at his wrist, a silent plea for him to remove his hand, and Kakyoin’s brows furrow, but he complies, raising his head.

It’s Hierophant, having taken on his humanoid form, sitting on the bed next to Kakyoin and holding his wrist tersely. Kakyoin swallows before he chokes on his own spit, his airway too tight -- just like his chest… -- and Hierophant wraps his arms around him.

Hierophant’s arms stretch into tentacles, securely binding around Kakyoin and offering a small squeeze, forcing his brain to be reminded what real stimulus is.

Kakyoin sighs, long and heavy, and rests his forehead against his stand’s shoulder, closing his eyes.

Hierophant squeezes him again, gently, and Kakyoin lets out a shuddering exhale. When he breathes in again, the tightness in his chest unravels a small bit, like a clogged gear finally turning the way it’s supposed to again, and his lungs can properly fill again.

Kakyoin doesn’t take a deep breath, however. He just refills and empties his lungs with moderate amounts of oxygen, as if he’s scared to test the tightness’s mercy if he tries to take more.

Scared…

Kakyoin’s eyes open, narrowing, and he pushes back from his stand. Hierophant tilts his head to gaze at him but Kakyoin just avoids his headlight-like eyes. He glances at the clock on his bedside table. 12:02 A.M…

Kakyoin rubs a hand across his face while Hierophant retracts his tentacles.

“Green,” Kakyoin murmurs, and Hierophant taps his knee. Kakyoin glances up to see his stand staring intently at him, focused and concerned, the bridge where his eyebrows would be if he had any furrowed. “Can you grab my immunosuppressants?” Kakyoin hesitates, but the tightness in his throat isn’t as forgiving as the tightness in his chest. “...And some water?”’

He knows he doesn’t technically need to verbally command Hierophant, but some part of his crushed chest cavity feels soothed at the faux communication, like a burn being washed with cool -- but not shockingly cold -- water. Another part of his chest cavity recoils though, like an ocean wave curling against itself as it prepares to slam into shore. Weak.

Kakyoin grimaces and tries to curl his legs up to his chest, only for his lower back to suddenly shriek, as if the movement awakened it from the sleep his painkillers had lulled it into. Kakyoin grits his teeth and digs his fingers into his hair, nails pressing into his scalp.

God damn it-

A shock of cold zips up Kakyoin’s knee to the base of his spine, shutting the broken nerves up, and he jumps, whipping his head up. Hierophant has returned with a small glass of water and two pill bottles, gently pressing the glass against Kakyoin’s knee to get his attention.

Kakyoin stares for a moment, before Hierophant gently bumps the water against his knee again, the cold less startling and more grounding this time.

Kakyoin sighs before taking the glass and tilting it for a small sip. Hierophant places one pill bottle on the nightstand before his headlight eyes narrow at the remaining one in his hands, trying to unscrew the cap.

Kakyoin chuckles, reaching forward, “You need to press down, b-”

With a pop, the cap flicks off, and Hierophant stares down, eyes almost miniature glowing suns with how wide they are. Kakyoin blinks in surprise before smiling, a small but genuine curve of his lips.

“Hey, good job,” Kakyoin says quietly as he takes the bottle from Hierophant, who’s puffing his chest in pride. “I think this is the first time you got the cap off by yourself.”

Hierophant nods and Kakyoin hums, smiling down at his cup of water. He places the water on his nightstand before shaking a couple of immunosuppressants into his hand, the blue pills blinking at him in the orange light. Kakyoin lets out a breath before closing his fingers around them, turning to the other bottle.

They’re his painkillers. Kakyoin just stares down at them, feeling his eyelids getting heavier at just the sight of them. Hierophant must have grabbed them when my spine started hurting again…

Hierophant gently nudges the bottle towards him and Kakyoin just closes his eyes before retrieving the stand into himself, the glow of his green tentacles and yellow eyes dissipating along with him.

Kakyoin takes a deep breath before holding it again. He lets it out slowly before opening his eyes and facing the bottle once more. He can feel Hierophant stirring inside of him, concerned and restless. Kakyoin sighs, swallows, and takes the bottle.

He uncaps it with mild fidgeting, the locks on the cap clicking and stubbornly clinging to the lip of the bottle before it’s finally undone.

Kakyoin squints inside and frowns at the small remainder of pills in the bottle. I’m gonna need a refill on my prescription soon…

He should probably talk to the Speedwagon Foundation and get something figured out for Morioh...especially since he has no idea how long he is going to end up staying here.

Kakyoin shakes two little white pills into his hand before resting the bottle on the nightstand. He’d call tomorrow.

Lots of things you plan on doing tomorrow, snarks a part of him. Kakyoin ignores it. This doesn’t change the fact his shoulders slump at the thought and don’t rise again.

Kakyoin brings the pills to his mouth before taking hold of the glass of water again, quickly washing them down with a sip. They go down smoothly. Kakyoin sets the glass on the now-crowded nightstand.

He flicks the lamp off and slumps onto his side, feeling like dead weight, feeling like he didn’t have any organs anymore, just sand in his body.

He closes his eyes. Hierophant slowly creeps out of the recesses of his mind, back into the physical world, and he’s too tired to stop him.

Hierophant wraps his tentacles around his user in a makeshift hug, squeezing tightly. Kakyoin’s fingers curl and he lowers his head. He tries not to feel like he did as a child -- confused, angry, alone. He doesn’t quite succeed.

The following Tuesday, Kakyoin wakes up to a high-pitched ringing in his ears that immediately ignites his blood in irritation. Do I always need to be so angry all the time? Kakyoin thinks past the fog of tiredness, grimacing as he squeezes his eyes shut tighter.

Kakyoin curls a little more around the pillow his unconscious arms wrapped around, but his back whines in protest at the movement, only making the irritation spike and his head more clear, more awake, sounds and thoughts coming into sharper focus that only makes him even more annoyed.

Gritting his teeth, Kakyoin blinks his eyes open, shoving one hand through his bangs to push them away from his face.

The ringing is real, he is almost surprised to find, and it’s coming from the hotel phone, a red light next to the number pad blinking innocently at Kakyoin.

Kakyoin squints, but the phone doesn’t stop ringing.

Long damn ringer, Kakyoin huffs to himself before he hesitantly sits up and slowly swings his legs over the side of the bed, ever wary of his awful spine, eye twitching as the phone’s ringing continues to whine into his ears, scratching his eardrums like the fine point of a needle.

Kakyoin reaches out a hand and snatches up the phone. “What the hell?”

A shrill laugh erupts from the speaker, and Kakyoin grimaces, bringing it away from his ear. Not a voice he knows, but phone lines can distort those things…maybe it was Josuke since they hadn’t met up the other day-?

“I had heard rumors you were polite, you know!” Kakyoin smooths his expression out. Definitely not a voice he knows; the inflections and stresses are all wrong. The voice is amused at his confusion. The voice will use his confusion against him if given the chance. “It’s not even that early, you know.”

“Who is this?” Kakyoin asks lowly, voice even, if implicitly threatening.

“No fun in just telling you that!” The voice cackles. The corner of Kakyoin’s mouth twitches, eyes darting around his hotel room.

“Right, I’m gonna have to assume this is a wrong number then,” Kakyoin states flatly, Hierophant stretching out to create a barrier along the hotel room floor and walls, searching out any intruders, “because this is obviously a high school student trying to reach their frie-”

“I’m not a high school student!” The voice protests indignantly, voice high in offense. Kakyoin would laugh if only he knew who this was. “And this is not the wrong number! You’re Kakyoin Noriaki...right?”

Kakyoin stays silent, eyes narrowing, before he swallows and says, “Who wants to know?”

“Knew it!” The voice cackles, resorting back to its cocky, relaxed tone, and Kakyoin can feel his mouth beginning to twist into a scowl.

“Is there a point to this, or are you just fucking around?” Kakyoin snaps, and the voice laughs again. Kakyoin’s eye twitches, Hierophant’s tentacles rumbling with the wave of irritation spreading through Kakyoin’s veins.

“No need to worry, Mr. Kakyoin,” The voice teases, the sound of it digging into Kakyoin’s brain and scratching his skull, winding down his neck and tightening his shoulders like he’s a windup toy, “I’m just here to ask a favor!”

“Really?” Kakyoin scoffs, crossing his legs, ignoring the murmur of pain his spine whispers at the motion, “and just what would that be?”

“I’m asking you to leave Morioh.”

Go home, Kakyoin.

Jotaro’s words mesh with the stranger’s, and Kakyoin’s whole body twitches, fury roaring through his veins like all his blood had heated into a gas. “No fucking way.”

“Aw, come on, Mr. Kakyoin,” The voice teases and Kakyoin’s teeth grind against each other, “it’s really for your benefit more than mine!”

It’s too dangerous for you.

The stranger’s words are once again too close to Jotaro’s, and they dance around Kakyoin’s brain tauntingly, bouncing against his skull, rocking his head from side to side, making Kakyoin feel dizzy, making him see red.

“No fucking way. I don’t even know you, why do you assume I’d drop everything I’m doing here just to comply with your wishes?” Kakyoin outright snarls, voice spiked and edged like thistle.

The voice just laughs, and Kakyoin’s grip tightens on the phone, plastic biting into his palm. “Mr. Jotaor said something similar, so to that I have a similar ans-”

“You talked to Kujo?” Kakyoin seethes, some of the gas in the center of his chest condensing back down into something colder, thicker.

“Wh- so you do know each other?” The voice muses, and Kakyoin growls at himself, running his free hand through his hair.

“Not the fucking point. You talked to Kujo? What the hell did he say?” Kakyoin questions, sentences short and barbed like scorpion tails.

“Also not the point!” The voice replies, and liquid fire pulses so suddenly through Kakyoin’s muscles that he’s surprised he doesn’t physically lash out, though the tentacles around the room writhe for a moment, shivering in reflection of his anger. “But, as for what the point is: you should comply with my request because I have the stand arrow.”

The flames of anger are immediately doused, Kakyoin’s blood rapidly cooling back down to liquid form, and he leans back a bit, straightening from the hunched form he had taken. “What?”

“I didn’t always have it,” The voice admits, “which is why you and Mr. Jotaro were able to get into Morioh in the first place. But I finally got it from the man who originally did -- Nijimura Keicho.”

Kakyoin rattles his brain, shaking it up in his skull a little more than the dizziness had already, trying to recall if he knows anything about a Nijimura Keicho, but nothing explicitly comes up -- just a faint feeling he’s heard of the surname “Nijimura” before. Where-?

“You don’t need to worry about him coming back either; I took the liberty of killing him,” The voice explains, drawing Kakyoin out of his thoughts. “So do I need to worry about you coming back, or do I need to kill you, too?”

Kakyoin’s eyes narrow, teeth still grinding against each other. “And how exactly do you suppose you’d do that? I’ve taken down standusers a lot worse than you, considering they didn’t need to hide behind a phone call when they confronted me.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The voice scoffs, refusing to fall for Kakyoin’s ruse. Dammit- “I know it’s a thousand times easier to take down a stand once you know what it does, so I’m not giving you all the details -- again, no fun in just telling you.”

Kakyoin rolls his eyes, glowering. Coward, coward, coward... “Right, whatever, asshole. Well, I don’t see how you having the stand arrow should make me fearful of you. If anything, you’re just giving me a target to focus on.”

“Jeez, Mr. Kakyoin, you’re one piece of work,” The voice complains, and Kakyoin snarls, hair raising on the back of his neck. “Listen, I’m not necessarily trying to make an enemy of you! I’m not trying to target you or Mr. Jotaro -- or Josuke Higashikata!”

Despite the assurance they were supposed to be, Kakyoin’s breath hitches inaudibly in his chest at the words, cold splashing between his lungs and spilling down to his stomach, like his heart was a bucket of ice-cold water. He knows Josuke-

“You just have to stay out of my way, and I won’t do anything,” The voice continues.

“And what exactly are we in the way of?” Kakyoin snaps, his free hand curling into a fist, shaking from the tension.

“Don’t be so impatient, I was getting to that,” The voice sighs, as if Kakyoin was the one being an asshole here, and he growls. “Since I have a stand now, I just want to make my life more fun. I don’t need to adhere to the boring rules of tests and work anym-”

“Are you sure you’re not a high school student?” Kakyoin barks sardonically. “Because you’re sounding an awful lot like one-”

“I’m not a damn student!” The voice snaps again, and a part of Kakyoin is satisfied he could get him pissed off even the slightest bit. “But even if I was, that doesn’t matter! Just leave my town or else you will become my enemy! I can kill you and Mr. Jotaro and Josuke anytime I want!”

Kakyoin’s eyes narrow, any amusement he got from the outburst dissipating like a wisp of smoke. “If you even dare to try, I’ll find you and k-”

The hair on Kakyoin’s arm stands on end, his nerves rolling in discomfort, and Kakyoin only drops the phone out of confusion more than anything else, brows furrowing at his own hand, when the phone explodes in a rush of electricity.

“What the hell?!” Kakyoin shrieks, jolting up from the bed, Hierophant immediately zipping up from the floor and walls to wrap around and support him.

Kakyoin blinks as excess sparks shoot out from the socket of the cord, both the holder and receiver of the phone completely broken, smoke rising from the melted plastic and ashes that remained. The bed was scorched, holes burned into the comforter and sheets.

“What-?” Kakyoin cuts himself off as that damned voice laughs again, still coming from the smoldering remains of the phone. The phone clicks then, and the voice cuts off.

Kakyoin simply stares at the remains for a second, eyes narrowed, but pupils wide. Electricity then, huh? His thoughts trail off, though, when he feels a trickle of warmth trace down the hand he was holding the phone with.

Kakyoin brings up the back of his hand to inspect, only to see a cut slicing along the skin, a piece of plastic sticking from it. It was not deep enough to require a hospital visit, but deep enough for blood to trickle freely, if slowly. Kakyoin squeezes his eyes shut and sighs, shaking his head as Hierophant brings him back down to his feet while two lone tentacles silently head to the bathroom to get him a bandage and disinfectant.

Kakyoin glances at the phone remains again, face pinched in irritation, brows drawn and mouth in a tight frown.

...What the hell am I going to tell the hotel staff?

Chapter Text

Later that afternoon, the new phone that the hotel had installed after Kakyoin successfully gave a vague explanation for why the first one blew up, rings.

Kakyoin’s eyes immediately narrow, Hierophant again spreading to scout the room as he snatches up the phone.

“I swear if you end the damn call again by blowing up my phone-”

“Uh, Mr. Kakyoin?” Josuke’s voice questions on the other line. Kakyoin pauses, shifting his jaw, holding his breath for a heartbeat.

“Josuke,” Kakyoin says, tone smoothly transitioning from volatile to polite. “Is something wrong?”

“Ah, no, just-“ Josuke pauses, clearly needing a second due to the whiplash of Kakyoin’s demeanor. “Uh, hi. Can we start setting up dates and times for that self-defense training you were talking about?”

Kakyoin blinks. Right. “Oh, yeah, sure. Did you have anything in mind?”

Josuke pauses. “Um, I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet.” Kakyoin chuckles, shaking his head. “Hey,” Josuke whines, but Kakyoin just smiles.

“Well,” Kakyoin says, “Sundays would probably work best for you as a student, right? Or is your school one of the ones that’s stopped with Saturday class-”

“Yeah, Sundays work,” Josuke rushes out, and Kakyoin pauses at the sudden blurt. Josuke takes a breath, the speakers crackling, when he continues with “Sorry for interrupting, just...um, I was also wondering…”

Josuke trails off and Kakyoin raises a brow incredulously. “...Yeah?”

Josuke sighs, the speakers near blowing out with the sound, crackling. “Um. So, a lot happened, yesterday, uh-”

Concern immediately shoots through his chest, sobering the amusement. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Josuke asks, clearly rattled, before the question computes. “Oh- yeah, no I’m fine, just…”

Josuke sighs and Kakyoin frowns, brows furrowing.

“Uh, okay, so, it’s a long story, and I think I should also talk to Mr. Jotaro about it-” Kakyoin grimaces, eyes narrowing, “-also it’d probably be better to just...go over it in person...I wouldn’t know how to explain it all by myself anyway…” Josuke mutters.

Kakyoin hums, surprise and suspicion performing an intricate dance in his chest. What happened yesterday?

Josuke continues, though. “Um, but I was wondering if I could bring a friend...or two? To the self-defense stuff?”

Kakyoin blinks. “Uh, Josuke, you know when I said self-defense training, I meant specifically with your stand-?”

“Yeah,” Josuke sighs, the sagging of his shoulders audible with the exhale, “but they’re- my friends are also standusers.”

Kakyoin blinks. “You have standuser friends?” A part of him he didn’t even realize was tied up immediately relaxes at this knowledge. He’s not alone. He’s not like me.

Josuke hums, tone wavering. “It- I guess? I didn’t always...it, er, is a recent development.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it-” Josuke sighs again. “Koichi...we met...well, as I said, it’s a long story that I’d rather not tell on the phone.”

Kakyoin hums, nodding absent-mindedly before a sobering thought washes over him. “Alright...well, I’m not objecting, but are you sure about bringing them? We might get some unwanted attention if we converge in too big of a group and cause too much of a disturbance, no matter where we are. It might be dangerous to involve them.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Josuke says firmly, and Kakyoin pauses at the certainty. “It’s already dangerous...again, long story, but we were attacked by a standuser earlier today, so I just think we would all benefit fro-”

“You were what?!” Kakyoin cuts in, jerking toward the door reflexively, as if he could help them now.

“I- we’re all okay!” Josuke rushes to assure, “his stand wasn’t, like, physical-attack based, just- guilt...based.”

Kakyoin works his jaw, focusing on keeping his breathing steady. “Guilt?”

“Yeah. He just tried to guilt-trip us basically. Sucks for him, though, because while he was pitiful, I don’t feel bad beating his ass at all,” Josuke scoffs.

Kakyoin huffs in amusement, forcing his shoulders to relax as he leans his hip on the nightstand the phone was stationed on. “...Well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah,” Josuke sighs, “me too.” He hesitates then, before asking in an unsure voice, “So, can my friends come then? Since weird standusers are already after them anyway?”

Kakyoin sighs softly, nodding. “Well, in that case, sure, I don’t mind if they come. It’ll actually make sparring easier for you because then you’ll be partnered with someone that -- I assume -- is closer to your experience level.” Kakyoin pauses, considering. “Most of the time, at least. I’m gonna have to have a go at you every once and a while, though.”

“Ugh,” Josuke groans and Kakyoin smirks, pressing his sunglasses further up his face. “But- right, thank you, Mr. Kakyoin.”

Kakyoin hums, nodding his head. “Yeah, of course. Know of a fairly private place we can practice?”

Josuke hums, considering. “Something tells me my backyard won’t be big enough for four stand users messing around...” He eventually mutters.

Kakyoin just snorts at the mental image of one of them accidentally knocking Josuke’s entire fence down. “Maybe not. Is there anywhere else around town we could go?”

Josuke hums thoughtfully. “...Well, at the edge of town near the coast, there’s a bunch of barren fields -- undeveloped land or something. No one really goes out there because it’s not really interesting hiking ground, and it should be close to the hotel you’re staying at...”

Kakyoin’s spine murmurs in interest. He ignores it.

“You sure? Sounds like it’s pretty far from you in that case,” Kakyoin asks, fighting to keep the irritation out of his voice. Do not suspect the worst of a kid, Noriaki, a part of him snaps. “Are you sure you don’t want it to be more even travel time on both our ends?”

“I mean…” Josuke pauses, humming. “I guess that’d be nice? But since I know the town and all, it just makes more sense for me to be the one to have to travel farther, is all.”

Oh, one part of Kakyoin says.

See? Says the part from before. Not everyone automatically thinks you’re incompetent and weak, dumbass. You’re not as smart as you thi-

“I see,” Kakyoin ends up saying. “Well...if you’re sure?”

“Yeah!” Josuke chimes into the phone, tone heightening in excitement. “Besides, it’ll be a good warmup, right? Gotta get blood flowing, yeah?” Josuke pauses. “Actually, does my physical form affect my stand’s in any way?”

Kakyoin hums, tilting his head, glancing at Hierophant’s tentacles, then down at his legs. “...I’m not sure,” He admits, “but at the very least, you being physically ready certainly won’t hurt your stand or otherwise affect it negatively.”

“Then yeah,” Josuke says, tone strong with confidence and certainty, “let’s just go to the fields then. It’s fairly private, it’s big, and it’s easy to access.”

Kakyoin’s lips press into a line before his shoulders slump and he shakes his head. “Alright.” He pauses for a moment, before adding, “You stay out of trouble until the weekend then, got it?”

Josuke hums. “Easier said than done…” He murmurs, and Kakyoin laughs, fondness and concern meshing in his stomach.

“Can you try?” Kakyoin asks, trying to remain lighthearted, but worry threatens to darken the lightness his tone has.

“I can try,” Josuke confirms, his own voice gruff with the weight of his day. Kakyoin glances at the clock on his nightside table. 5:32 P.M... Josuke must’ve called him right when he got home from school.

“Alright. See you then, Josuke,” Kakyoin says. He pauses, before adding, “Play some video games for me, yeah? I didn’t bring any consoles with me when I came out here.”

Josuke snorts. “Your first mistake,” He snickers, and Kakyoin rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “But yeah, sure,” Josuke says, voice a little lighter, and Kakyoin lets out a quiet breath. “See you then, Mr. Kakyoin.”

Kakyoin hesitates, but there’s a click on the other end, so he goes to hang up the phone himself. He leans back on the bed, only to hiss and freeze when pain rockets up his spine like a ball of flame along his spinal column.

Kakyoin sighs and glances at the bathroom, the door creaked open just enough so he can see where his wheelchair is collapsed and waiting against the wall. Kakyoin’s eyes narrow and he drags his gaze away.

He rubs the bridge of his nose, taking his sunglasses off, and sighing. He wipes his lenses on his cardigan before he fits the frames back onto his face.

He scoots back against the bed, leaning against the head of the frame, closing his eyes for a second, and simply breathing. His back, while more accepting of the new position, still grumbles as it is rocked against the mattress every time his diaphragm inflates. Normally Kakyoin could ignore it -- the crying of his nerves had become background noise after ten years of it being constantly there -- but they’re pinching now, sharper than the usual dull ache, like instead of using fists, they were using knives to attack him.

Great… He expected this, especially after the activity of the Angelo fight, but that expectation didn’t make dealing with the flare of pain any easier.

Kakyoin opens his eyes, his brows furrowed, but his mouth not committed enough to twist into a full scowl to complete the look.

The wheelchair is in his peripheral, the gleaming silver of the frame blinking at him from the darkness of the bathroom.

Kakyoin slides his gaze back over to the bedside table and reaches to grab a manilla folder, the Speedwagon Foundation’s logo stamped on the front and the words “Stand Arrows” scrawled on a piece of tape placed near the top.

After his talk with Avdol, the file had been faxed and arrived less than a day later, one of the hotel staff bringing it to his room for him. There was a sticky note on the front that passed on the message, Get anyone new you meet to register with the SPW. It’ll help in the search.

The folder itself wasn’t very thick, signifying the lack of information, and it just makes Kakyoin even more confused and angrier. If the search has only brought forth so much in ten damn years, why was I left out? Why wouldn’t they trust me? Why wouldn’t they just let me help ?

Unease eats at Kakyoin’s stomach and pain eats at his spine like he’s some variation of Prometheus, cursed to be consumed day after day. Kakyoin sighs irritably. I’ve spent too long in fucking Greece…

He flips open the folder then, rummaging through the papers to find where he last left off reading, then flicks his sunglasses up to rest on his forehead. Words enter and leave his field of vision, but never make a lasting impression on his mind.

Kakyoin sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose again before having Hierophant nudge open the curtain to his room’s window, eyes flickering back to the top of the page to try reading again, resolutely ignoring the flash of the new light source against the metal of his wheelchair, still peeking at him from the bathroom.

Whatever happened regarding him staying in the dark -- whether Polnareff and Avdol seriously shared Jotaro’s belief that he was incompetent and untrustworthy, or they pitied him and thought of him as a child instead -- he couldn’t change it now.

Kakyoin swallows and tries his best to ignore the dark ball of malleable sludge in his chest.

All he could do now was prove he could handle it. Kakyoin’s eyes narrow and the words on the page finally begin to make sense to him, while the back of his mind wanders to the basics of defense and how he could teach Josuke what he knows, despite never taking formal defense classes himself to base any teachings off of.

All well, Kakyoin thinks. If there was one thing he was, it was determined.

He had work to do.

Come Sunday morning, Kakyoin is out in a field of undeveloped land, all by himself, as Josuke had assured would be the case.

If he tries, he can hear the distant crash of waves against the shore at his back, but it’s overpowered by the occasional gust of wind rustling through the blades of grass, the strands whipping against each other before falling into place among one another again once the wind passes.

It’s a good morning, he thinks. Kakyoin takes in a deep breath, letting the blanketing scent of pollen, the strong scent of grass, and the sweet smell of dew overflow his senses. Spring really was a beautiful time, he muses, letting his head tilt to rest against the back support of his wheelchair.

He closes his eyes, just breathing, before he lifts his head again, leaning it from side to side to stretch out his neck. He presses his sunglasses further up his nose before rolling his shoulders, sighing.

Hierophant creeps out then, wrapping around his hand and squeezing lightly. Kakyoin’s mouth quirks into a smile and he squeezes back.

“Ready to show off?” Kakyoin murmurs and Hierophant squeezes again, slipping in-between his gloved fingers. Sure am, Boss.

Kakyoin’s smile widens and he lifts his head, only to be greeted with three approaching figures.

They’re in the midst of a conversation, their voices bouncing distantly, but Kakyoin can’t quite make out what they’re saying yet. Josuke is easy to identify, with his ever-immaculate pompadour at the ready, despite knowing he’s headed to what will, for all intents and purposes, be a workout. Kakyoin snorts at this, resting his elbow on one of his armrests and plopping his chin down into his hand.

The others with Josuke seem to be about his age. One matches Josuke’s bulky form, about the same height, his hair shaved on the sides, the top piled into a smaller version of Josuke’s pomp. Interestingly, he has scars running across the sides of his face, and Kakyoin’s heart squeezes at the visual. The scars look so similar to Avdol’s…

The other teenager is smaller and slimmer, coming up to Josuke and the other’s shoulders. This doesn’t deter him from keeping stride with them, though, and doesn’t stop him from contributing to the conversation and being listened to. It reminds Kakyoin of his own woes of being the shortest on the trip to Egypt, and he huffs into his hand, shaking his head at the memories.

As the group gets closer, Kakyoin can more easily make out their appearances and can finally distinguish what they’re saying. The smallest one is asking Josuke if he thinks the man they’re meeting with will know how to deal with Echoes -- his stand, maybe? -- and Josuke opens his mouth to reply when the scarred teenage looks up and catches sight of Kakyoin.

“Oh! He’s in a wheelchair?” The tall one with pins of various currency symbols on his uniform exclaims in shock.

Josuke digs his elbows into his ribs, hissing something Kakyoin can’t hear, while Kakyoin just raises a brow. The smallest one’s head snaps up, also catching sight of Kakyoin, and he waves nervously, the movement jerky.

Kakyoin snorts, a small smile of dry amusement on his face as he waves back with a flutter of his fingers.

“Good morning, Josuke and co,” Kakyoin greets wryly, and Josuke turns to Kakyoin himself, the group finally caught up to him.

“Ah, Mr. Kakyoin, hi,” Josuke stutters, sharing a look with his friends before facing Kakyoin again. “Uh...are you okay?”

Kakyoin snorts, pushing down his kneejerk flare of irritation. “Yes, I’m fine. Just…” He sighs then, tapping his fingers against his armrest. “Spine decided to give the legs a vacation today.”

Josuke frowns at that, but Kakyoin continues.

“I won’t need them to teach you.”

Josuke hums while the taller of his friends nods, despite his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Are you sure?” The smallest of the three asks. “We wouldn’t want to trouble you- if today isn’t a good time-”

“Nonsense,” Kakyoin quickly interjects, fighting to keep down the rush of irritation flooding his veins, attempting to keep it confined, locked and under key. “I’m not being overconfident when I say I won’t need my legs to teach you.”

Kakyoin sighs melodramatically, jerking his long bang back from his face with a toss of his head.

“But, if you’re so worried,”

Hierophant slivers out of Kakyoin then, making both of Josuke’s friends freeze in shock while Josuke just watches in intrigue, eyes scanning over the familiar form of Hierophant Green as the stand securely wraps around Kakyoin’s waist like a harness before twisting down to his legs, tightening around his knees and ankles like bracers.

“I can do this in front of fellow standusers, since you can see my stand.”

Josuke and his friends openly gawk as Kakyoin stands up, then trots around his wheelchair. He tries to keep from looking like as much of a show pony as he feels while Hierophant helps him both to keep his balance and manage his own weight, gently tugging Kakyoin’s legs forward and then helping them lock straight again as needed.

“Wow,” Josuke says, while his scarred friend whistles.

“That’s so cool! Your stand is a bunch of tentacles?” The scarred teenager asks, and Kakyoin sighs, smiling as the conversation veers towards a topic he’s more comfortable with. Great. Proved my worth to a bunch of teenagers. Glad I can still do something right.

“Sometimes,” Kakyoin answers as Hierophant gently sets him back down into his wheelchair before he manifests Hierophant’s humanoid figure.

The smallest gawks, eyes wide, while the scarred teenager cheers. “He looks so cool! Josuke, you didn’t say his stand was awesome!”

“Why would I have needed to?” Josuke mutters, before shaking his head. “Hey, wait, I said I thought his stand was cool!”

“Come on, Josuke,” His friend scoffs, “‘cool’ is for, like, second-best stuff. ‘Awesome’ is for the first-best.”

Josuke rears to snark back a reply, but the smallest of the group grabs Kakyoin’s attention as he says, “It looks so much like Echoes…”

“Hm?” Kakyoin asks, turning to face him.

The kid jumps, looking not unlike a startled rabbit, eyes wide and body tensed, frozen. “Uh-”

“Is ‘Echoes’ your stand?” Kakyoin asks as Hierophant is retrieved back into himself. He vaguely remembers hearing him mention an Echoes earlier when he was walking up with Josuke...

The teenager opens and closes his mouth for a second before nodding. “Yeah- your stand, my stand, it just...they look so similar.”

Kakyoin quirks a smile. “Really?”

“Yeah,” The kid stammers, rubbing the back of his head bashfully. “He’s also green with yellow bug eyes…” He pauses, considering. “Actually, he looks a lot like a bug with a shell in general.”

“Interesting,” Kakyoin says, but before he can say anything else, Josuke cuts his and Okuyasu’s squabble short.

“Anyway,” Josuke loudly announces, turning both his and the smallest teenager’s attention back to him and the other. Josuke marches up to Kakyoin’s side, clearing his throat.

“Okuyasu, Koichi, this is Mr. Kakyoin. Mr. Kakyoin, Okuyasu and Koichi,” Josuke says hastily, jerkily gesturing.

Kakyoin nods as another he feels wry smile comes on. “Nice to meet everyone. I’m not sure what Josuke told you about me already…?”

“Uh, he said you’re a really cool standuser-” Okuyasu starts, before Josuke slaps a hand over his mouth, chuckling forcefully as he wraps an arm tightly around his friend.

“Jeez, Okuyasu, do you gotta say things verbatim?” He asks, face flushed, and Kakyoin only just has time to feel delighted surprise bloom warm and soft in the center of his chest -- I still got it -- before Koichi interjects.

“Er, he said you were an experienced standuser and that you were willing to help us with our own stands,” Koichi finishes for Okuyasu, and Josuke sighs before releasing Okuyasu and dropping his hand from Okuyasu’s face, which earns him a punch in the shoulder.

“Ow!” Josuke cries in indignation more than pain, rubbing his shoulder, but Okuyasu just sticks his tongue out at him. Ah, teenagers...

Kakyoin clears his throat, and Okuyasu and Josuke turn their attention back to him. “Yes, that’s right. I’m here to basically give you all the rundown of self-defense, featuring stands. I’m sure you’ve noticed things are a little…” Kakyoin sighs. “A little dangerous, lately.”

Koichi hums, dropping his gaze, while Josuke’s face darkens and Okuyasu shifts his weight, staring at the ground. Kakyoin frowns at this reaction; What have they already seen beside the guilt stand Josuke mentioned?

“So,” Kakyoin segues, deciding not to push the matter for now, “knowing how to protect yourself is of vital importance right now.”

Koichi and Josuke nod, while Okuyasu hums thoughtfully, giving Kakyoin a once-over before his eyes light up and he points.

“Oh, I get it! So you’re like one of those wise old mentors in manga!” Okuyasu declares, hands balled in excitement, eyes shiny and wide.

Kakyoin snorts. “I wouldn’t really call myself wise…” He frowns. “Or old. I’m still in my 20s, you know.”

“You are?” Okuyasu asks, tilting his head. “Then why are you in a wheelchai-?”

“Okuyasu!” Koichi hisses, elbowing his friend, his height allowing him to nail his friend right underneath the ribs, which Okuyasu lets out an “Oof!” at. “You can’t just ask people why they’re in wheelchairs!”

Kakyoin erupts into laughter, though, his spine grumbling in protest but Kakyoin not caring as his shoulders shake with the sound.

Okuyasu continues looking curious, if a little scolded, while Koichi and Josuke nervously lock eyes.

“No, don’t worry, it’s okay,” Kakyoin snickers as his laughter subsides, taking his sunglasses off and swiping at the lenses with the hem of his cardigan.

After they’ve been sufficiently cleaned, Kakyoin fixes the frames back on his face and looks up at the trio, shrugging.

“To make a long story short,” Kakyoin starts, “I’m in a wheelchair because, when I was around your age, I went on a mission to stop...someone. I wasn’t completely prepared, though,” Kakyoin says, consciously keeping his words even, keeping his voice fluid despite his throat locking up, “and it cost me.”

Josuke, Koichi, and Okuyasu stare intently, Josuke looking concerned, Koichi looking guilty, and Okuyasu thoughtful.

“However,” Kakyoin continues, trying his best to remain nonchalant, bringing his hands from his armrests to his lap, “I survived, obviously, and I learned. Which is why I am going to teach you all, so you can hopefully learn the same lessons I did, only the easy way rather than the hard.”

The trio blinks, almost in unison, and Kakyoin can feel a snicker bubble up in his chest at their unintentional synchronization.

“So!” Kakyoin claps his hands, the boys straightening at the sound, making Kakyoin have to pass off his snort as a cough. “Let’s get to that, shall we?”

Josuke nods, and after a moment of hesitation, Okuyasu does too. Koichi seems the most nervous, but after a second, he nods as well.

“Great,” Kakyoin says before the sticky note on the stand arrow file flashes through his mind. “First things first though, at some point, we’re going to have to get your stands registered with the Speedwagon Foundation.”

Koichi lets out a strangled gasp. “The SPW? That massive private humanities funder from America? They have a stand division?”

Kakyoin chuckles, nodding his head. “Sure. It’s probably not public knowledge though, so don’t go telling anyone.” He teases.

Koichi looks like he isn’t sure if Kakyoin was joking or not, eyes scanning his face. Kakyoin just shakes his head and continues.

“In order to learn more about stands and to give their users a sense of community, the SPW’s started having standusers register with them in their database,” Kakyoin explains. “Shouldn’t take long. We should get to it after this if we can.”

Josuke, Koichi, and Okuyasu nod, faces thoughtful. “Yeah, that sounds fair,” Josuke says.

Kakyoin nods then. “Alright. For now, though, bring out your stands.”

Josuke’s response is immediate, Crazy Diamond’s flashy pink and soft blue fading into view beside him within milliseconds.

Okuyasu follows after, his own gray and blue metallic stand zipping from him, almost like a shadow, before it stands upright, right hand gently clenching around a growth in its palm. Its eyes are shiny, pupilless, and yellow, just like Hierophant’s, Kakyoin notes.

Koichi’s brows are furrowed as he stares at the ground, hands balled into fists and shoulders ramrod straight, tightened to the point Kakyoin almost winces in secondhand pain.

Kakyoin’s own brows furrow in concern. “Koich-?”

A spark of green electricity, and Koichi’s stand emerges. True to the kid’s word from earlier, it’is also green with flecks of luminescence interspace in the coloring, just like Hierophant. As for shape, it looks like a toy bug, like something with wheels a kid could pull. It has a beak, which it uses to chirp in greeting as it swings its tail idly.

Kakyoin hums, resting his cheek against his hand as Hierophant settles next to him, leaning on his head. “We’re gonna have to work on response time.”

“Sorry,” Koichi says, dropping his head, and Kakyoin frowns.

“Not just you,” Kakyoin says, “Okuyasu needs to work on it as well.”

“Yeah,” Okuyasu admits, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

Josuke frowns. “It’s not- they’re just not used to it. Neither of them are born standusers, so it’s just not as natural for them-”

“Not born standusers?” Kakyoin interrupts, brows furrowing, before cold realization seeps into his chest, “then...you don’t mean the man with the arrow-”

Josuke drops his gaze and Kakyoin’s eyes widen.

“What-?”

“So, remember when I said I had a long day, last Monday?” Josuke asks, voice edged with desperation, a need for Kakyoin to understand, and Kakyoin’s chest locks down at the tone because it is a reminder Josuke is a kid. “Yeah, so, this is...that was…”

Josuke sighs and Okuyasu frowns, before placing a hand on Josuke’s shoulder and facing Kakyoin, eyes straying to the ground in shame. “My brother...he was the one with the arrow, originally…”

Kakyoin blinks. “...What?”

“My brother was Nijimura Keicho,” Okuyasu explains, eyes downcast and focused on the blades of grass as the wind ripples through them, “the first person with the stand arrow. He shot it at me about two years ago,” Okuyasu grimaces, his free hand unconsciously coming up and pawing at his chest, making Kakyoin frown, his brows furrowing, “and he shot it at Koichi at the beginning of the week.”

Kakyoin blinks, before turning to Koichi, who’s chewing on his thumbnail. “You’ve only had your stand for a couple of days?”

Koichi’s gaze darts about before he nods.

Kakyoin leans back in his wheelchair, staring at the boys in front of him, all of whom seem to be expecting some sort of punishment for the crime of being exposed to danger.

“I’m sorry,” Kakyoin says instead of anything scathing, which causes the boys’ heads to shoot up, “that you had to go through that.”

Kakyoin grimaces, and Hierophant drapes a tentacle into his hand nonchalantly. Kakyoin squeezes it.

“I can’t imagine how painful it could be,” Kakyoin continues, “to forcibly prompt yourself to summon a stand.” Forcing yourself to summon such a flood of willpower...that has to be traumatic. I wonder what Avdol would say about it…?

Koichi winces at the words, hand rising to his throat, pulling up his uniform collar, and Kakyoin notes this with a lurch in his stomach. Was he shot there…?

Kakyoin sighs, turning back to Okuyasu. “I heard about your brother, too. The asshole who killed him paid me a visit-”

“What?” Josuke cries, eyes widening. “What did he do? Are you okay-?”

“Relax, Josuke, I’m fine,” Kakyoin interjects, raising a hand, “he just came to try and threaten me out of town, but obviously that didn’t work and he didn’t do much about it besides throw a hissy fit.”

Josuke hums, frowning, and crosses his arms. “...That’s it?”

Kakyoin pauses, considering. “...Well, when I say ‘threw a hissy fit,’ I mean that he blew up my phone-”

Josuke chokes, eyes widening, while Okuyasu throws his head back in laughter, shoulders shaking with the force of it, the sound ringing clear in the field.

“It’s not that funny!” Kakyoin halfheartedly says, despite his mouth stretching into a smile. “But that’s all he did. Seems to me he’s not confident enough in his abilities to take me on in a real fight right now -- which means he probably won’t try and go for any of you, either.”

Koichi fidgets, his fingers twitching at his sides. “...Even me?”

Kakyoin nods. “Even you. Despite his knowledge on the subject, he’s only had his stand for a little while, is the impression he gave me,” Kakyoin explains. He pauses, before tacking on, “and since you’re a new standuser, he doesn’t know your ability; he’s definitely not going to attack you until he does.”

“Oh, great,” Koichi says faintly, and Okuyasu places a hand between his shoulder blades to help him keep his balance while Echoes floats closer to Koichi’s head defensively.

Kakyoin hums before turning to Josuke. “Anyway…but we shouldn’t stall. We need to use all the time he lies in wait to our advantage.”

Josuke nods, and Koichi takes a deep breath before nodding as well, prompting Okuyasu to drop his hand.

“So!” Kakyoin segues, nodding to the stands that are lined up behind the boys. “Tell me -- or show me -- what you can do. Josuke, I already know some of your stuff, but go ahead and showcase everything you can think of.”

Josuke nods, a grin beginning to stretch across his face as he widens his stance, Crazy Diamond behind him readying his fists. “Sure thing.”

Kakyoin huffs a laugh and rolls back a bit in his wheelchair, gesturing towards Okuyasu and Koichi with his head. “Give him some space.”

The two take a couple of steps back, inching closer to Kakyoin. A lone tentacle of Hierophant’s snakes out to curl around a rock, lifting it off the ground.

At least I’m not going to be the only show pony today, Kakyoin thinks.

“Go wild, Josuke,” Kakyoin calls, before Hierophant chucks the rock at him and Crazy Diamond flies forward. And thus, class begins.

Chapter Text

Crazy Diamond’s fist easily crashes through the rock Kakyoin had thrown, splintering it to sharp pebbles and dust. Okuyasu lets out a low whistle and Josuke flashes him a grin. Before the debris can fall to the ground, though, a pink glow surrounds it, keeping it all suspended in midair.

Kakyoin nods approvingly and Josuke puffs out his chest, shooting a smile to his friends. “You guys already know this, but I can smash things to bits with my stand,”

The pink glow around the rubble shines brighter, before the pieces lift back up, falling in reverse, almost like Josuke was rewinding time. The dust and shards of rock fit back together like puzzle pieces, and as simply as having them touch each other again, the cracks heal, compacting back to one whole rock.

“And you know that I can also fix things,” Josuke continues, eyes gleaming, brows furrowed in confidence. The pink glow around the now-whole-again rock doesn’t dissipate, however. “But,”

The rock starts shifting then, as if it was malleable, as if something inside it was trying to push out, and Kakyoin’s brow raises. I haven’t seen this before…

Okuyasu whistles again, eyes wide, while Koichi watches with rapt attention, fingers twitching at his sides, standing ramrod straight, eyes bright.

The rock eventually is reformed into a rough imitation of Crazy Diamond’s face, like it was simply play-doh rather than the stiff solid it was supposed to be, and Josuke grins at his spectators. “What you might now know is that, in addition to fixing things back to the way they should be, I can also fix them back the way I want them to be.”

Kakyoin hums, nodding, while Okuyasu and Koichi clap politely at Josuke’s show, Okuyasu even offering some cheering. Josuke bows and Kakyoin rolls his eyes at the dramatics despite his smile. “So, short-ranged, power type, with an additional power of healing? You can do a lot with that.”

Josuke nods, beaming proudly, his pompadour bouncing with the movement. Still need to ask what products he uses…

Koichi is mumbling something Kakyoin can’t hear under his breath, but before Kakyoin can question him, he shoots his head up and points at Josuke.

“So-” Koichi stutters, before shaking his head. “Hey, wait, that’s what you did to those upperclassmen on the first day of school, then!”

Josuke blinks, brows furrowed in confusion, before understanding dawns on him and he points at Koichi in return. “Wait, you saw that? Man, that’s embarrassing…I was acting like a total wimp because they caught me in the middle of trying to face that turtle...”

“Of course I saw it!” Koichi replies indignantly, crossing his arms. “I was there the whole time, didn’t you know?”

Josuke rubs the back of his head, gaze darting downwards, pink coloring his cheeks. “I- uh- I’m sorry, dude, but I didn’t...really notice you...until Mr. Jotaro started talking to me and you tagged along with us…”

Koichi lets out a strangled noise, and Kakyoin raises a brow. “Kujo talked to you on your first day of school?

Josuke waves his hand dismissively. “Sure. Just told me about the old man or whatever.”

“‘Or whatever?’” Koichi chokes out. “He’s your dad!”

“And he is also a faceless stranger to me,” Josuke snaps, and Koichi shuts his mouth so quickly Kakyoin can hear the clicking of his teeth from where he’s sitting, brows furrowing in shame.

Kakyoin hums, his own brows furrowing, squinting at Koichi before turning to Josuke. “It’s okay, Josuke. You don’t need to explain. I was just wondering.”

Josuke huffs, shaking his head. “Well, yeah, that’s all Mr. Jotaro mentioned when we first met.” He pauses, considering, before tilting his head. “Actually, he also told me to be careful and not be reckless, because there was a loose standuser -- which turned out to be Angelo.”

Kakyoin’s brows shoot up. “So Kujo originally didn’t involve you in the Angelo chase?”

“What?” Josuke shoots Kakyoin a confused glance, brows furrowed. “No. He didn’t want me involved at all, actually. I just didn’t give him a choice not to when…” Josuke trails off, eyes casting downward, and Kakyoin hums.

“Huh…” Kakyoin shakes his head and Josuke shoots him a questioning glance.

“Why do you ask, anyway?”

Kakyoin hesitates, fingertips grazing his armrests. “I guess I’m just surprised.”

Josuke looks like he wants to ask more, but Kakyoin turns to Okuyasu and Koichi.

“Who’s next?”

Koichi’s face pales the slightest bit, eyes wide, and Okuyasu notices this, frowning down at his friend before he steps forward, waving his arm like he was in a classroom. “I can go next Mr. Kakyoin!”

Kakyoin ducks his head and smiles, Okuyasu’s cheeriness reminding him of an almost more wholesome version of Joseph or Polnareff. He nods over to where Josuke is standing and says, “Go ahead.”

Okuyasu and Josuke trade places, with Okuyasu trotting in front of the group, ready to show off, his stand floating quietly beside him, and Josuke taking a perch next to Koichi and Kakyoin. He can faintly hear Koichi apologize for something -- probably the father comment -- but Josuke just waves it away.

Koichi hums, face screwed in shame, and Josuke pats him on the shoulder. “It’s okay dude, really.”

Koichi sighs before he squints at Josuke’s face, doing a double-take. “Oh, Josuke,” He says, gesturing towards his cheek, “you got scratched by a shard of rock, it looks like.”

“Oh, really?” Josuke touches his cheek, fingertips grazing the shallow cut. Koichi nods and Kakyoin turns more fully to face them, frowning. Josuke drops his hand and shrugs, gaze darting downward. “Ah, well, it doesn’t hurt. I didn’t even notice.”

Kakyoin’s brows furrow. “Are you not going to heal yourself?”

Josuke chuckles nervously. “Ah, I...can’t.”

“You can’t?”

Josuke’s hands clench listlessly at his sides. “I can’t heal myself with Crazy Diamond. I’ve tried to before when I’d scraped my knees or whatever as a kid, but…” Josuke shrugs, looking at Kakyoin helplessly.

Kakyoin hums, brows still furrowing. “I see…”

Josuke shifts, fingers twitching. “Is that...bad?”

Kakyoin pauses. “I wouldn’t say bad. It just means you need to be more calculating.” Kakyoin looks up at Josuke over his sunglasses. “That means stop being so reckless.”

Koichi chuckles and Okuyasu outright laughs while Josuke scoffs, but says nothing in argument.

“Anyway,” Kakyoin turns back to Okuyasu and nods at the boy. 

Okuyasu clears his throat before tilting his head up. “My stand -- The Hand -- is kinda simple,” He says bashfully, eyes darting downward, before calling his stand forward. “But I don’t think it’s got a bad power.”

Kakyoin nods and Okuyasu’s stand clenches its fingers in its right hand before jerking them outward, the growth in its palm beginning to shine just a bit with a yellow glow.

“To put it simply,” Okuyasu starts, before his stand lunges away from the group and arcs its arm through the air, a sound not unlike that of a jet flying through the air echoing throughout the field.

Dust erupts from the ground a few meters away, and Kakyoin inches forward a bit, squinting. Okuyasu steps out of the way to showcase the damage done, and Kakyoin’s brows shoot up.

As the dust clears, it becomes apparent that a perfectly carved arc in the ground has been formed, cleanly sliced like a knife through jello. It stretches for a meter long, only about 15 centimeters wide, and it’s completely smooth, like even molecules were cut in half to form it. Kakyoin blinks.

“To put it simply,” Okuyasu repeats, turning from his handiwork to Kakyoin, “my stand erases things with its right hand.”

“Wow,” Kakyoin breathes, still focused on just how sharp and smooth the indent in the ground is.

“Um, and in addition to that,” Okuyasu continues, facing flushing the slightest bit pink in pride at the response, “if I want, I can close the gap left by what I’ve erased.”

To demonstrate the fact, The Hand swings its arm down again, next to the previous mark it left in the earth, and the same jet-esque noise fills the air.

Kakyoin only gets to see the indent of this latest erasure for a moment, before the earth suddenly jerks, both sides of the arc rushing to fill the gap like they were magnetically connected, and any trace of the indent disappears.

Okuyasu turns back to Kakyoin, eyes wide and looking like a puppy waiting on its owner for validation. No wonder he and Josuke are friends… Kakyoin thinks distantly before he hums and nods, tapping his chin with a gloved finger.

“Can you erase anything?” Kakyoin asks, and Okuyasu nods, pride shining through his expression.

“Yup!” He says, confidence visibly beginning to flow through his veins, making him puff out his chest and relax his arms. “Solids, liquids, gases, space-”

“Space?” Kakyoin interjects, brows shooting up again.

Okuyasu laughs bashfully, rubbing the back of his head. “Ah- yeah. Space too.”

Kakyoin nods, gaze flitting over to the stand again. Its headlight-like eyes are ever watchful, glowing softly in the morning light. Its cylindrical head is tilted as it gazes at Kakyoin past the shoulder of its user. It almost seems like it’s observing Kakyoin -- like it’s trying to figure out if he’s a good influence or not on its user. A part of Kakyoin pangs with nostalgia and fondness, a warm feeling with a dash of cold settling in the right side of his chest.

“Damn. I know you said it was basic -- and sure, maybe it is on paper,” Kakyoin says, and Okuyasu’s face falls, making Kakyon frown before he continues with, “but that means it’ll be incredibly versatile.”

Okuyasu blinks, before raising his gaze to meet Kakyoin’s again. “Huh?”

“Your stand’s power is not limited by circumstance,” Kakyoin explains, “and with such a broad power as erasure, you can apply it to multiple situations, and even more strategies.”

Okuyasu’s jaw drops for only a moment before he pulls himself together and looks down, rubbing the back of his head bashfully, eyes downcast. “Ah- thank you, Mr. Kakyoin, really, but...I’m probably not smart enough to do all that,”

Kakyoin’s brow furrows and he glances at Okuyasu from above his frames. “...Well, even if that is true, that’s what I’m here to help with, right?”

Okuyasu blinks, letting the words soak in, before he breaks out into a big smile, eyes wide and shining in the morning sun. In the corner of his eye, Kakyoin can see The Hand nod to itself. Kakyoin ducks his head, his own smile creeping onto his face. Ugh, these kids…

Kakyoin shakes his head before turning back to Josuke and Koichi, who are clapping politely at Okuyasu’s admittedly less dramatic, but still intriguing all the same, show. Josuke is grinning, and when Okuyasu heads back to them, he claps a hand on his shoulder.

“What’d I tell you?” Kakyoin can hear Josuke say, nodding to both Koichi and Okuyasu, “Mr. Kakyoin can be really nice!”

Kakyoin chokes on a snort, erupting into a coughing fit. Hierophant discreetly taps between Kakyoin’s shoulder blades as he regains his composure, politely muffling the coughs with his elbow, which just so happens to hide the snicker on his face as well. Me, nice? Please...

When Kakyoin rights himself again, Koichi has stepped forward one step, looking at Josuke and Okuyasu nervously. They both give him thumbs up, but Koichi only grimaces at this, brows furrowing in desperation.

Kakyoin tries to hum, but his throat clicks on it, almost sending him into another coughing fit. Clearing his throat, Kakyoin coughs out, “Ahem, ah, Koichi. Are you ready?”

Koichi turns to face Kakyoin now, looking stiff as a board. Kakyoin raises a brow.

“This isn’t a test, you know, no right or wrong way to do it. No need to be nervous.”

Koichi lets out a breath and deflates a bit. “I know…”

Despite looking like he’s trying to swallow his own tongue, Koichi pads out to the field past Kakyoin, turning to face his audience.

“Um,” Koichi begins, hands twisting the hem of his uniform nervously, “I’m not as experienced as Josuke and Okuy-”

“That’s alright,” Kakyoin interrupts, nodding in what he hopes is an encouraging way, “this is about what you can do, not what Josuke and Okuyasu can do in comparison.”

Koichi pauses, before breathing out. “Right…”

Koichi straightens his shoulder, tilting his chin up high, and swallows before looking at Kakyoin with the most nervous expression of determination he’s ever seen, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a line, eyes wide open and focused.

“Echoes,” Kakyoin can just faintly hear Koichi murmur, and with a flicker, Echoes appears beside Koichi’s head, faster this time than last. It chirps another greeting at Kakyoin, Josuke, and Okuyasu, before drifting in circles just above Koichi’s head, curiously looking around the field.

“My Echoes seems to be a long-ranged stand like yours, Mr. Kakyoin,” Koichi starts off, Echoes drifting like a leaf on the wind to land on the ground. Kakyoin nods.

“How far can he go, do you figure?” Kakyoin asks.

Koichi hums, glancing down at his stand, who tilts its head at him. “Um, probably 50 meters?”

Kakyoin nods, leaning to rest his chin in his hand. “Seems to be a fair rule of thumb for most long-ranged stands,” He murmurs.

“Do long-range stands usually go up to 50 meters?” Josuke pipes up. Kakyoin shrugs.

“From what I’ve seen, yeah,” Kakyoin answers, glancing at Josuke. But “I’m not-” Avdol. Kakyoin bites his tongue, hesitating. “...I’m not the head of the SPW’s stand department though.”

Koichi just stares, the joke flying over his head. Kakyoin just exhales and motions with a gesture of his hand, sitting upright again.

“Anyway, go ahead.”

“Right,” Koichi replies, voice soft and distant like he was distracted, before turning back to his stand.

Echoes jumps up in the air again, the rattle on its tail flicking excitedly, and Koichi takes a deep breath.

“My Echoes can...er, it weaponizes onamonapia and- words in general,” Koichi explains. Kakyoin raises a brow and Koichi sighs, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s easier to just show…”

With that disclaimer, Echoes flies up, headlight-like eyes flashing in the morning sun. With a chirp, it slices its tail through the air, and a burst of Katakana shoots out, moving so fast Kakyoin can’t quite read it -- but it’s in such a bright, neon pink font that he can see it as it arcs through the air before it staples itself to the ground.

Kakyoin blinks, before he rolls forward a few feet in his wheelchair, squinting down at where the word has pressed against the grass like it was a giant sticker that had been placed down.

Boom…? Kakyoin reads before Echoes chirps again and the Katakana glows.

Kakyoin rolls back just as the ground pulsates with the sound effect, as if there was an actual explosion, and Kakyoin reflexively grips his armrests, fingertips digging into the tan padding.

The sound itself isn’t deafening , though Kakyoin has a sneaking suspicion that’s only because the Katakana wasn’t stickered on him directly. Still, the roar of an explosion echoes through Kakyoin’s ears, as if he’d been within 30 meters of a gas pipe blowing up.

When the sound fades, Kakyoin pushes his sunglasses up his nose and grins at Koichi. “Now that can do a lot of damage.”

Koichi flushes, but he tilts his chin a little higher, eyes still wide but less out of nervousness, pupils relaxing from their dilated state. “Is that a good thing?”

Kakyoin chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “Sure it is. Means you’ll be able to protect yourself and your friends.”

Koichi pauses, face going lax in a thoughtful expression before he shakes his head. “Um- there’s one more thing,” He says meekly, nervousness back in full -- but he doesn’t shrink back down, at least, Kakyoin notes. “But- um, I’m going to need a volunteer.”

Kakyoin can hear Josuke and Okuyasu let out confused noises behind him. Koichi shrugs, hands darting to twist the hem of his uniform again.

Kakyoin rolls forward a bit in his wheelchair. “Here. Fire away, kid.”

Koichi squints, brows furrowing. “Uh…I don’t know, Mr. Kakyoin...”

Kakyoin raises a brow, ignoring his flash of irritation at the perceived underestimation. “I’m not fragile, Koichi. Come on, give me your best shot.”

Koichi stiffens, nervousness peaking at the notion of causing offense, before shaking his head. “R-right…” Kakyoin resists the urge to roll his eyes. He’s a kid and he’s new to this, of course he’s nervous, hisses the more rational part of him. The less rational part murmurs something about Koichi being too much like Kakyoin himself was at 16 -- weak, weak, weak. Kakyoin resolutely ignores it.

Widening his stance a bit, Koichi calls Echoes forward again.

“In addition to sound effects,” Koichi begins to explain as Echoes reels its tail back to flick, Kakyoin eying it warily, “Echoes can also, er, influence thoughts.”

Kakyoin blinks, a flush of cold twisting out from the center of his chest. What-

With the forewarning given, however, Koichi does not hesitate, and Echoes flicks its tail at Kakyoin, a burst of yellow erupting from it and heading straight towards Kakyoin, just like the fleshbud, just like DIO-

Hierophant’s tentacles are moving before Kakyoin can consciously command them, forming a wall in front of Kakyoin, shielding him from the words. Kakyoin squeezes his eyes shut…

...but there is only a minor press, like gently tapping a sticker against one’s arm. Kakyoin blinks, before Hierophant turns to the side, no longer shielding him from Koichi, but still in a wall formation.

In bright yellow kanji, the phrase “Wave to me!” has been stickered onto Hierophant’s tentacles in a superfluous font. Kakyoin blinks. Right. Right.

“-Mr. Kakyoin!” Koichi is calling, and Kakyoin finally tunes back in. “Are- are you okay?”

Kakyoin swallows before forcing himself to relax in his wheelchair again, waving a hand at Koichi. “Sure am, kid.” Kakyion’s eyes dart to his stand again, still unmoving in his wall formation. “Um- Hierophant doesn’t like me taking impacts straight on, I guess.”

Koichi lets out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, okay. I guess…” His eyes dart to Kakyoin’s wheelchair. “I guess that makes sense, yeah.”

Kakyoin’s eyes narrow. Stop it, hisses the rational part of him again.

“Er, should I hit you again?” Koichi asks, making Kakyoin’s veins fill with ice.

“Your stand should work on other stands,” Kakyoin interjects, voice a little sharp, as if it were a knife, slicing the proposition on a cutting board, “so this should be fine. Go ahead and...activate it?”

Koichi hums, but nods, and turns to Echoes. Echoes cocks its head at the wall Hierophant is still making up, before it rattles its tail and the words begin to glow.

Wave to me!

Kakyoin jerks the slightest bit, the call echoing in his head as if it were his own thoughts, but spoken in Koichi’s voice rather than his own. Koichi’s mouth hadn’t moved, though. Obviously, Kakyoin thinks to himself, but the surrealism still makes him shake his head.

Wave to me!

Kakyoin lets out a breath and forces himself to relax into the wheelchair. Unlike...previous experiences, Koichi’s voice in his mind felt more like a suggestion than an order. It wasn’t all-consuming, the only voice in Kakyoin’s head, making him mistake Koichi’s will for his own thoughts. It felt more like a hand on the shoulder -- guiding. Kakyoin could shrug it off if he really wanted to...

Wave to me!

He’s a new standuser, Kakyoin reasons with himself, of course his abilities aren’t to their full potential yet. I shouldn’t embarrass him in front of his friends over it.

Wave to me!

It’s probably better this way, anyway. Better to just influence rather than completely control…

Wave to me!

Kakyoin gives in, lifting his hand and waving, a few half-hearted rocks of his wrist. Koichi lets out a smile and the words on Hierophant glow brighter for a moment before disappearing, as if absorbed by their own light.

Recalling Hierophant’s tentacles to himself, Kakyoin nods to Koichi.

Koichi hesitates, but Kakyoin doesn’t say anything before he gestures back to Josuke and Okuyasu with a tilt of his head, then turning to face them himself. Koichi lets out a small sigh Kakyoin can only faintly hear before he shuffles back to his friends’ sides.

“Well, congrats, boys,” Kakyoin starts, tapping absent-mindedly at his armrest, “you all are looking to be capable young men. Your stands have a lot of potential. Lots to work with here.”

“Really?” Okuyasu asks, eyes shining, and Kakyoin smiles in spite of himself, despite how the mannerism reminds him of Polnareff with a pang. Kakyoin just wordlessly nods.

“I don’t wanna take up the entirety of your only free day of the week,” Kakyoin continues, “so we’ll only do one more thing today.”

“Sure, Mr. Kakyoin, what’s up?” Josuke questions and Kakyoin can feel his smile morph to something a little sharper.

“The purpose of these meetings is to get better at self-defense, so I’m gonna have to see where you all are in terms of fighting prowess before making any, er, ‘lesson plans.’”

Josuke snorts while Okuyasu and Koichi nod thoughtfully. Kakyoin raises a brow and Josuke waves away his silent question. “Nothing, just- the thought of you being a teacher is pretty funny,” He snickers.

Kakyoin scoffs good-naturedly, before leaning forward in his wheelchair.

“Alright. Ready for a quick round, everyone? You three, against me.”

Koichi’s brows shoot up. “Um- are you sure, Mr. Kakyoin? I don’t…” his eyes dart to Kakyoin’s wheelchair, and Kakyoin bites his tongue to avoid saying something smart.

“I’m sure, kiddo,” Kakyoin says in a flat tone instead, brushing him off. “Our difference in experience makes it a fair fight. Now, are you ready?”

No one else objects. Kakyoin clicks his tongue, smiling to himself while shaking his head. Mistake one.

Hierophant’s tentacles shoot out, easily and hastily pushing Kakyoin back a handful of meters in the grass, now out of Josuke and Okuyasu’s range.

Kakyoin can’t help but grin -- using Hierophant for battle, however faux, is akin to stretching a long-unused muscle.

“Hey!” Josuke yelps and Kakyoin stifles a chuckle into his shoulder before reaching out with one of Hierophant’s tentacles, sweeping Josuke’s feet out from under him.

“Wha- hey!” Josuke yelps, falling with a crash, Hierophant jerking to cushion his fall. Before Josuke has time to feel relief, though, Hierophant begins to roll him up, effectively taking out the healer of the party before the fight has even begun.

“Hey!!” Josuke yells, but he’s left immobile in Hierophant’s grasp, made only worse by Hierophant lifting him up some 20 feet off the ground to dissuade him from trying to break free.

“Josuke!!” Koichi and Okuyasu yelp in tandem, their shock giving Kakyoin yet another opening. Too easy...we’re definitely going to have to work on this.

Another tentacle shoots out, this time wrapping around Echoes, who had been left out in the open, wounding around its tail to restrict its movement. Echoes chirps in alarm, and Koichi’s body stiffens, letting Kakyoin know that he’s as immobile as his stand now.

“Jeez!” Okuyasu yelps before calling out The Hand, forcefully jerking his gaze away from his friends, “Mr. Kakyoin, you’re so fast!”

“It’ll be this fast in a real fight!” Kakyoin calls before he sends a tentacle his way.

Josuke writhes in Hierophant’s grip, trying desperately to get away, shouldering and kicking the best he can despite the height he’s at.

“Be careful!” Kakyoin calls up to him, and Josuke just scoffs.

He summons Crazy Diamond, but much like its user, Crazy Diamond can only do so much when restrained -- a lucky perk of the bodily connection between stands and users for Kakyoin, but not so much for Josuke and Koichi, Kakyoin notes with a wide smile.

Meanwhile, Okuyasu yelps before erasing the space to his left, effectively dodging the tentacle headed his way. Kakyoin nods approvingly.

Okuyasu doesn’t glance his way, however ( Mistake two… Kakyoin thinks to himself); he jerks his gaze up toward Josuke, then down towards Koichi, hands clenching listlessly by his side.

Kakyoin quirks a brow before sending another tentacle barreling towards Okuyasu’s direction.

“Ack!” Okuyasu yelps again, before he takes off running away from it, tentacle giving chase. The hand swipes down, erasing space and effectively giving Okuyasu a head start away from the pursuing tendril.

Okuyasu’s eyes are trained on Koichi’s struggling form, echoing the wriggles of his stand as it tries to break free from Hierophant’s grip, tail attempting to flick over and over, kanji reading Let me go! stickering against the ground.

“Okuyasu!” Koichi yells helplessly as his friend barrels closer, “What are you doing?!”

“I’m not smart enough to take down Mr. Kakyoin by myself, so I need to free you two!” Okuyasu replies.

Kakyoin hums, resting his chin on his hand. He understood low self-esteem, but letting it restrict the moves you’re comfortable making while in a battle like this was dangerous…

Kakyoin sighs as he stretches another one of Hierophant’s tentacles low along the ground, the green of it blending naturally with the uncut grass. It’ll be one of the things I’ll have to work on with Okuyasu, then.

“Be careful!” Koichi shrieks as Okuyasu continues racing toward him, body tensing even more than it was already in preparation for impact.

“It’ll be fine!” Okuyasu reassures, gaze darting up toward Josuke still struggling in the air, seemingly unconcerned with the tentacle racing after him from behind, not questioning how it hasn’t caught up to him yet and what that might mean. Kakyoin almost felt bad; this was going to be too easy.

Okuyasu calls, “Josuke!” and Josuke rolls his head to look down, face screwed up in agitation.

“What!?” He yells.

“Brace yourself!” Is all Okuyasu says before he brings The Hand out again, the stand’s palm already arcing downward.

Kakyoin’s eyes widen, but there’s nothing he can have Hierophant’s tentacle fight against; Okuyasu’s stand wasn’t a force in of itself, after all.

The Hand erases the distance between Josuke and the ground, leaving Josuke, still wrapped in Hierophant’s tentacles, to come racing down.

“OKUYASU-!” Josuke shrieks before falling with a thud, Kakyoin wincing as he feels the phantom pain of his stand’s tentacle slamming into the ground arching up the entirety of his arm. Josuke groans loudly, falling limp in Hierophant’s tentacles.

“It’ll be fine- shit!” Okuyasu cusses as he’s chased right into the tripwire Hierophant had made of itself, stumbling but unable to catch himself as he falls.

“OKUYASU!” Koichi yelps, but Okuyasu cannot stop; he slams into his smaller friend, and Hierophant, releasing Echoes right at that moment, waves as the two go tumbling down into a tangle of limbs on the grass, their heads knocking against each other with an audible smack of bone against bone. Kakyoin winces as he rolls forward toward the group; the fight is more or less done.

“Okuyasu,” Koichi whines incoherently from underneath his friend’s bulk, and Okuyasu simply rolls off of him, eyes closed, mouth in a crooked grimace.

Kakyoin rolls up and gently knocks against Josuke’s shoulder with his front wheel. “Do I need to restrain you again, or do you admit defeat?”

Josuke mutters choice words about Kakyoin’s “disgusting and creepy ribbon stand” and Kakyoin can’t help but laugh out loud about it as Koichi wheezes out, “We lost. We lost. Please don’t.”

“Well, let’s see, you clocked about a minute and twenty seconds,” Kakyoin gloats, while Josuke groans as he clambers back to his feet from the ground, Koichi sitting up and reaching for his head, wincing, Okuyasu turning over and wriggling forward to rest on his stomach next to Koichi, “which is admittedly not bad -- for novices.”

“Thanks for going easy on us,” Josuke whines, tucking a stray strand of hair back into his pompadour with one hand and helping Okuyasu to sit up with the other.

“I need to see how prepared you all already are for a fight in order to know where to start in teaching you,” Kakyoin explains, before smirking, leaning back in his chair. “...Which is not very, based on this example.”

Josuke mutters again, voice quiet but high in the way that lets Kakyoin know he’s being insulted again, and Koichi looks stricken at the blatant disrespect.

“Alas, you’re all free to go home at this point, but just a couple things first,” Kakyoin says, and Josuke hums and gestures for him to talk while Koichi clambers to his feet with Okuyasu’s help.

“One: when I gave you the opportunity to ask anything at the start, you should have asked me about Hierophant’s abilities. It’s immeasurably easier to fight a stand once you know what it does,” Kakyoin explains. Josuke grumbles, but his shoulders slump in admittance while Koichi and Okuyasu look thoughtful, Okuyasu tilting his head and Koichi humming.

Kakyoin continues.

“And two: analyze your environment just as much as you’re analyzing the opponent’s stand; it can be a big giveaway to how a stand works, and it’ll also keep you from making simple, but ultimately dangerous, mistakes.” Okuyasu’s gaze droops at that, and Kakyoin frowns.

He waits for a beat, but no one says anything. Kakyoin nods, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them.

“Alright, homework then: just spend some time with your stand; get used to its presence and its abilities. This goes especially for you, Koichi,” Kakyoin says. Koichi flushes at the particular mention but nods his understanding.

“But I’ve had my stand all my life,” Josuke whines, “I’m already used to that stuff.”

Kakyoin shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “Not enough. Your stand needs to be second nature, faster than bodily instinct. And beyond that,” Kakyoin shrugs as he manifests Hierophant again, smiling to himself when he feels the faint impression of Hierophant resting his chin on the crown of Kakyoin’s head. “To know your stand is to know your potential, boys, and to know your potential is how you win the fight. That’s what your stand is a manifestation of, after all. So use that to your advantage; figure out your capabilities.”

Josuke does pause at that, expression relaxing to a thoughtful one, joining in on Okuyasu and Koichi’s silent consideration of Kakyoin’s words.

“Alright then,” Kakyoin says, clapping his hands together, the sound muffled by his gloves, “in that case, class dismissed.”

Josuke rolls his eyes good-naturedly while Okuyasu smiles and Koichi’s shoulders slump.

Chapter Text

Wednesday afternoon the following week, Kakyoin gets a call in the middle of his scouring the stand arrow file.

Kakyoin sits up in his wheelchair, wincing when his back snaps at him for it, before he sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose.

He wheels over to the phone, grumbling. “I should invest in a pager…”

Kakyoin shakes his head as he parks next to his nightstand and then picks up his phone.

“Hel-”

“MR. KAKYOIN!” Josuke shrieks into the phone, making Kakyoin jerk his head away from the speaker, his neck popping from the sudden movement.

“Ow, fuck-!”

“MR. KAKYOIN PLEASE HELP US!!” Josuke shouts into the phone, and Kakyoin winces, squinting, his brows furrowing.

“Josuke, what-”

“Mr. Jotaro is in danger!”

Cold immediately floods Kakyoin’s veins, his eyes widening so fast he can feel the muscles in his pupils moving. Already he’s wheeling to the door of his hotel room, the cord of the hotel phone stretching with him. “What?”

“Koichi and I just- there’s a stand user at our school- we tried confronting him and we ended up pissing him off and now he’s impersonating me and he’s gonna attack Mr. Jotaro and when we tried to call Mr. Jotaro to warn him he didn’t pick up so-”

“Where?” Kakyoin hisses, the question asked so flatly it was more of a demand than an inquiry.

“Morioh Station!” Josuke quickly spits out, and Kakyoin immediately drops the phone and is out the door, a lone tentacle of Hierophant bringing the receiver back to the holder before slamming the door of the room shut behind him.

Kakyoin wheels himself out down the hall and past the lobby, ignoring the people around him who must lunge out of his way to avoid being run over, Hierophant helping him to maintain speed and balance.

“Hey- watch it!” Someone snaps at him as they jump back from his charging, and Kakyoin sneers but otherwise doesn’t respond, barreling out the doors of the hotel.

The thick scent of freshly mowed grass hits Kakyoin full force as he rushes out, and he inhales once before his gaze darts around the scene, ignoring the bursts of purple flowers, people, and multicolored parked cars in the lot.

There!

A car is just leaving the pickup zone right in front of the doors of the hotel. Kakyoin takes a deep breath before he resummons Hierophant.

Hierophant fluidly erupts from him in a mass of tentacles, racing forward to hook onto the back bumper of the car just as it turns out to the main road. Kakyoin grimaces and digs his fingertips into the leather of his armrests as his wheelchair begins to roll forward in tandem with the car. It’s been a while since I’ve done this…

The car picks up speed and Hierophant wraps a tentacle around Kakyoin’s waist, working as a makeshift seatbelt connecting him to his wheelchair. Kakyoin has the mind to think, Hm. Helmet, before he’s jerked forward, and off he goes.

Kakyoin simply grits his teeth and endures the burst of velocity, ducking his head as Hierophant draws him closer to the back of the car so the driver won’t see him tagging along in the rearview mirror. At least the station isn’t far from the hotel…

Kakyoin sighs and tries to get a breath, which is surprisingly hard when the wind is blasting against his face. It’s moving so quickly past him that it won’t stay in one place long enough for him to breathe it in. Still, it wasn’t impossible, so long as Kakyoin sucked in air with his mouth rather than his nose. Kakyoin’s face pinches, grimacing at how idiotic he might look. Ugh, how annoying…

Shaking his head, Kakyoin blows away his long bang from his face and glares down at the license plate.

Alright. Let’s think.

Josuke had said the enemy standuser was “impersonating” him -- Kakyoin almost wanted to chuckle over that. He knew Jotaro had dealt with impersonators before -- the tale of Yellow Temperance he’d been relayed makes him snort, the furrow in his brow relaxing a bit -- but then again, it did take Jotaro a slightly alarming amount of time to figure out it was an imposter.

Kakyoin frowns. And if the standuser doing the impersonating is Josuke’s schoolmate, he’ll know him better than Rubber Soul knew me, and thus be able to mimic him better...

Kakyoin resists the urge to roll his eyes. Great. So Jotaro somehow being up on the uptake and taking care of the threat himself probably wasn’t going to happen.

Not that I believed in his competency anyway, Kakyoin snarks in his own head, but dread sludges in his chest, thicker than the blood in his veins and so, so much cooler, winding his insides tight in an effort to stay warm.

Alright. Attack methods then.

Kakyoin frowns. His knowledge is incredibly limited as of the moment -- too limited. All he knows is that the stand can mimic people.

Kakyoin pauses, tilting his head. But if mimicking is its main power, its defense and attack methods can’t be stellar. That’s just not what specialized stands are suited for…

Kakyoin swallows. At least, from what I know…

The tentacle around his waist shivers, tightening its grip in reflection of how Kakyoin is preparing himself for anything.

Kakyoin can’t help but smile down at his makeshift seatbelt, fondness lurching warm and fast through his gut.

The car is nearing the station, the building looming closer on the horizon, and Kakyoin takes a deep breath, brows furrowing.

“Alright, bud,” Kakyoin murmurs, and Hierophant relaxes its grip on the car’s bumper.

As Hierophant lets go, it sends out two tentacles to wait cautiously by the sides of Kakyoin’s wheelchair, there to help him keep his balance should he skid, and Kakyoin turns his gaze to the station, directing his chair so he smoothly rolls up onto the sidewalk from the road.

Kakyoin darts his gaze around, spinning in a small circle once he comes to a stop from the momentum, trying to find the trademark pompadour indicative of Josuke in the semi-crowded front of the station.

“Mr. Kakyoin!” He hears, and Kakyoin turns his head sharply to where the call came from.

Coming in from the side of the station facing the town square, Josuke and Koichi are sprinting, Josuke’s face panicked and Koichi looking more than startled, both their eyes wide and their stands out by their sides, floating after them at the same pace as their run.

Kakyoin lets out a breath, allowing his shoulders to slump the slightest bit. They’re not even banged up, good…

“What the hell is going on?” Kakyoin barks when the two skid to a stop in front of him, Josuke wildly looking around, Crazy Diamond covering his blindspots while he does. “Where’s Kujo?”

Koichi gasps for breath, crouched over with his hands on his knees. “I think- I don’t think- he’s here yet,” He pants.

Kakyoin blinks. “What the hell is going on?” He repeats, and Josuke’s gaze snaps to him.

Josuke swallows, gasping in air of his own. “Me and Koichi- we just-”

“Breathe and calm down,” Kakyoin sternly orders, and Josuke snaps his jaw shut, sucking in deep breaths and closing his eyes.

Koichi coughs before standing up fully again, brows furrowed as he stares determinedly at Kakyoin. “Me and Josuke were just- there was a standuser at our school, so we tried to investigate them and see if they had anything to do with the man who killed Okuyasu’s brother.”

Kakyoin blinks, before his brows furrow downward. “You two tried to do what? On your own? ”

Koichi pauses, sensing the irritation coming off of Kakyoin. “We- we just wanted to help,” Koichi said weakly, “We didn’t think it’d- we didn’t think he’d get the jump on us-”

“You idiots,” Kakyoin snarls and Koichi flinches, looking down. Josuke coughs before shooting a glare at Kakyoin. “You’re just kids, what the hell were you think-”

“He’s just a kid too!” Josuke snaps and Kakyoin rolls his eyes before sighing, burying his face in his hands for a moment and breathing out.

“Okay,” Kakyoin says, dropping his hands, “we’re discussing this later. Right now: who, what, where?”

“Hazamada Toshikazu,” Koichi huffs out, “his stand, Surface, is like- one of those wooden art models at its base form, but it can take on any form Hazamada wants it to -- and whatever harm comes to the doll also comes to the person it’s imitating.”

Josuke nods, scowling. “And right now, that stupid damn doll is imitating me!”

Kakyoin scowls along with Josuke, crossing his arms. “Damn, I hate mimic stands…”

Josuke and Koichi both shoot Kakyoin curious glances at this, but Kakyoin waves it away.

“Not important. Where?”

Koichi sighs, eyeing their surroundings nervously, Echoes curling its tail towards its body. “Well...here. He, posing as Josuke, told Mr. Jotaro to meet him here so he talk to him about standusers, but really, it’s so he can attack him with his stand and make it look like Josuke did it.”

Kakyoin scoffs. “Oh, what a bastard. Too cowardly to even show his own face to a man he plans on murdering?”

Koichi blinks before squinting at Kakyoin, not knowing what to make of that comment, but he continues. “Um. He wants Mr. Jotaro out of the way because he is, as a matter of fact, working with the guy who killed Okuyasu’s brother.”

Kakyoin sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Great. Is he here yet?”

Josuke shakes his head, heaving out a long exhale. “No, we beat him here -- though just barely. We’ve gotta get a plan!”

Kakyoin bites back any retorts -- You should’ve had a plan when you decided to confront him, dammit… -- and instead grounds his teeth together, looking around, eyes lingering on the station entrance facing the side of town that Josuke and Koichi came from.

“Alright. Here’s the plan. Get him to go through the inside of the station rather than just running right to the main entrance like you two just did. I’ll meet him inside and…talk to him.”

Koichi and Josuke exchange glances, but neither protest.

“Once he’s inside, just watch over Kujo and make sure that idiot doesn’t do something stupid.” Kakyoin continues.

Josuke heaves out a breath, his facial features relaxing in visible relief. “Right. Right. Thanks, Mr. Kakyoin! We won’t let you down!” With that, he and Koichi turn and start running back to the town-side entrance.

Kakyoin waves a hand dismissively before he turns himself to head into the station, Hierophant shivering with excitement underneath his skin. Been a while since I terrorized someone completely... “You better not!”

Lucky for Kakyoin, no one else is in the station -- at least not near the entrance of it. Unlucky for him, it means he has to wait, bored, the few minutes it takes before something happens, absent-mindedly tangling Hierophant along the architecture of the building.

Because of this, Kakyoin can hear the kid before he sees him; there’s a thudding of feet slapping against the floors, echoing against the walls, and haggard breathing.

“Shit!” He can hear a nasally voice cuss. “How unluck- huh?”

Hierophant, from where he had been lurking low to the ground as a thin tentacle, goes taut and trips the kid, leaving him to splay out on the floor. What Kakyoin wasn’t completely prepared for was Josuke to fall with him -- or, well, a Josuke lookalike.

Kakyoin raises a brow and suppresses a snort, instead crossing his arms and tutting. The kid stiffens before he snarls and jumps to his feet, strands of black hair lurking in front of his face.

He glares down at the floor and, when he catches sight of Hierophant, attempts to kick at the tentacle, cussing when it darts away. “What the hell?”

“Do you really want a murder charge on your hands, kid?” Kakyoin asks lowly as he rolls forward.

The teenager jumps, whirling around, stumbling on his balance as he does, eyes wide and expression slack with surprise. His stand -- still looking like Josuke, Kakyoin notes with a grimace -- stumbles up to its own feet. “What? Who- When did you-?”

“Because this is how you ruin your life with a murder charge,” Kakyoin continues, scowling at the kid.

The kid blinks, before he sneers. “As if. With my stand, I’ll never get caugh-”

“Oh really? Then what would you say the predicament I’ve got you in right now is, if not you being caught?” Kakyoin counters, glaring. The kid is so short he doesn’t even have to look up at him in his wheelchair as he stares him down.

The kid pauses then, uneasy flitting across his face, brows furrowing and eyes darting to the side. “...You’re not the police, though…?”

Kakyoin snorts. “No. But I know exactly who to contact that deals with standuser criminals like yourself. So, wanna stop while you’re ahead, or am I going to have to force you?”

The kid hesitates. Hazamada, Kakyoin remembers Koichi saying, his name is Hazamada.

“Don’t you have better things to do than some loser’s dirty work?” Kakyoin asks, and Hazamada freezes completely, face screwing up in rage.

“You-!” Hazamada growls, before lunging toward Kakyoin, his stand blinking in surprise before echoing the motion.

Kakyoin sighs and waves a hand, and Hierophant shoots out from the support pillars and crossbeams of the building, wrapping around Hazamada and his stand, pinning his arms to his chest and his legs together, pulling as tightly as possible without cutting off blood flow.

Kakyoin tilts his head, unimpressed, and the kid screams in rage, flailing and trying to kick, his stand echoing the sentiment, whipping its head back and forth in desperation. Kakyoin’s eyes narrow at the expression of panic the stand is using Josuke’s face to convey -- Creepy… -- before he focuses back on the standuser.

“I’m not someone’s bitch! I’m doing this because I want him gone, not because someone else does!” The kid spits, glaring at Kakyoin between strands of his hair.

Kakyoin coughs to cover up a chuckle. “I never said that.”

The kid scowls and Kakyoin rolls his eyes.

“Look, kid, I’m not an idiot-”

“-Could’ve fooled me,” Hazamada scoffs, and Kakyoin glares, Hierophant’s tentacles tightening in a warning. The kid shuts up.

“Alright, you wanna be an asshole, Hazamada?” The kid pales at the usage of his name and Kakyoin tries not to let his satisfaction show on his face, despite the warmth of the feeling stretching along his chest like a goo. “Then I can be an asshole too. I can hand you over just for trying to get at Kujo, you know.” Kakyoin rolls his eyes before admitting, “He’s a very important man, you see.”

The kid opens his mouth, probably to let out some smart comment, but Hierophant tightens and he closes it.

“Beyond that,” Kakyoin continues, staring up at Hazamada from over his sunglasses, eyes narrowed, “yes, you are being someone’s bitch right now, because you’re the one who's on the front lines in place of a grown-ass adult, and right now -- dunno if you’ve realized it yet -- you’re taking the fall for him.” Kakyoin snaps.

The kid’s glare wavers. “How- how do you know about Red Hot Chili Pepper?”

Red Hot Chili Pepper? Kakyoin files the information away. Finally, a name...

“He called me and tried to intimidate me out of town,” Kakyoin scoffs. “He couldn’t even do that right. No wonder he tried to have someone else take out Kujo.”

Hazamada blinks, before looking down. “...Does that mean I’m probably stronger than him?”

Kakyoin narrows his eyes before he shrugs. “Could be. Mostly it means he doesn’t give a rat’s ass over what happens to you, though. Are you sure you wanna throw away your future for someone like that?”

Hazamada stays quiet, brows furrowing.

It almost reminds Kakyoin of himself, if his situation with DIO was a little different…

Kakyoin sighs, an edge to his voice, and recalls Hierophant. Hazamada and his stand drop to the ground with a thud.

“Ow-!”

“Alright kid,” Kakyoin sighs, rubbing at his temple with his fingers. “I’m not gonna turn you in to anyone, stand-specific authorities or not.” Hazamada’s eyes widen and Kakyoin puts up a hand. “But,” He continues, voice low, keeping his gaze trained on the teenager, “you need to tell me all you know about Red Hot Chili Pepper, and you’re gonna have to come with me to get your stand registered.”

“What?!” Hazamada cries, his stand jumping up to stand protectively in front of its user, glaring at Kakyoin with Josuke’s face. Kakyoin’s eyes narrow at it before he turns his gaze back to Hazamada, peeking from out behind the towering form of his stand.

“We can’t just have standusers running around going unchecked,” Kakyoin reasons, “especially not standusers that try to commit crimes.” He stares flatly at Hazamada from over his sunglasses.

Hazamada’s eyes are still wide, only now in fear, but he tries to hide it by glaring. “I’m not going with some stand cop,” He spits and Kakyoin rolls his eyes.

“I already told you I’m not a cop,” Kakyoin snaps and Hazamada scowls. Kakyoin’s eyes narrow. “I’m being serious, you damn brat.”

Hierophant immediately jerks back up and tightens around Hazamada again, and he gasps at the pressure, going still in the stand’s hold.

“Red Hot Chili Pepper wanted me out of town so bad because I’m competent, unlike him, and because I don’t do prisoners,” Kakyoin says lowly, and Hazamada’s gaze snaps to him, eyes wide both from the pressure and from fear. “You know the alternative to that then, yes?”

Hazamada just stares at him, but Kakyoin nods as if he spoke anyway.

“That’s right. That also means that if I wanted you to pay for what you’ve done and what you’ve attempted, you wouldn’t be here arguing with me or going to jail, you’d already be dead,” Kakyoin finishes, and Hazamada shivers.

Hierophant relaxes his grip and Hazamada gasps, sucking in air.

“But I don’t want you dead,” Kakyoin says, voice still low but in a softer tone. “At least, you haven’t given me enough reason to thus far.” Hazamada shivers at the warning and Kakyoin presses on. “What I want is to find the bastard who put you up to this and beat the hell out of him at the least, and it’ll be much harder to do that if you don’t have the incentive to help me get to him, which is why I'm playing nice.”

Kakyoin rolls forward then, offering a hand to the teenager.

“So, are you gonna take advantage of that and wash your hands of this, or are you gonna stay loyal to someone who would spit on that loyalty?”

Hazamada twitches and he snarls, smacking away Kakyion’s hand but dissipating his stand, jumping to his feet.

“I get it,” He seethes and Kakyoin puts his hands up in faux surrender, but he does recall Hierophant, giving Hazamada some space.

“Thanks, kid,” Kakyoin says dryly, and Hazamada rolls his eyes.

“If you know my name, stop calling me kid, old man,” He snaps.

“I’m not an old man!” Kakyoin defends, frowning. “I’m literally only 27!”

Hazamada gives him a deadpan stare and Kakyoin huffs.

“Whatever, kid, have your misconceptions about age.”

Hazamada’s eyes narrow, but he says nothing else. Instead, he crosses his arms, glancing off to the side. “So...fine. I won’t kill Jotaro. What now?”

Kakyoin hums. “Well, now I just need you to tell me what you can about Red Hot Chili Pepper.”

Hazamada nods, before hesitating, eyes narrowing but brows furrowing worriedly. “...And...what about the stand ‘registration’?”

Kakyoin waves a hand dismissively. “Of course that too.” Hazamada’s shoulders slump in defeat before shaking his head.

“Fine,” He mutters, and Kakyoin tuts at him. Not like you had a choice kid, but whatever.

“I’ll just need to call the Speedwagon Foundation and-”

“The Speedwagon Foundation?” Hazamada interrupts, eyes going wide. Kakyoin hums, nodding. Hazamada blinks. “Why didn’t you lead with that? Jeez, I thought you were gonna take me to some shady underground organization- wait, the Speedwagon Foundation has a stand division?”

Kakyoin waves a hand. “It’s not technically called the ‘stand division’ to the public, but that’s what its function is, yes.”

Hazamada sighs, the tension in his shoulders relaxing. “Alright. Fine. Yeah, I can do Speedwagon Foundation,” He murmurs to himself.

Kakyoin shakes his head, snapping his fingers at Hazamada, and Hazamada jumps before looking back at Kakyoin. “Anyway,” Kakyoin continues, voice short with irritation, “before that, though; Red Hot Chili Pepper. What do you know?”

Hazamada pauses, tilting his head, brows furrowing in concentration before his head lowers. “I...not much, actually.”

Why did you try to kill a man for him then? Kakyoin scoffs at himself. “Okay,” He wheedles impatiently, choosing not to comment, “then what ‘little’ do you know?”

Hazamada’s face clouds, his brows staying furrowed, but the rest of his expression going slack. “Well...Red Hot Chili Pepper isn’t his actual name, it’s just his stand’s,”

Kakyoin snorts. “I mean, I’d hope that’s not his actual name.”

The joke flies over Hazamada’s head though. “He -- or, maybe it was the man who had the arrow before him…? I don’t really remember the face -- but, either way, one of them shot me with this arrow that gave me Surface,” He explains. Kakyoin frowns. This damn arrow again...why were the people who got their hands on it so determined to aim it at high schoolers?

“So you haven’t had Surface for long?” Kakyoin asks, and Hazamada shakes his head.

“No. I only really realized what it was capable of recently…” His face flashes with minor guilt, brows furrowing and the corners of his mouth tightening, and Kakyoin hums, prompting him further.

“I- I swear I didn’t realize-” Hazamada cuts himself off and sighs, sending out every last drop of oxygen in his lungs. “All I knew until a couple of days ago was that Surface -- my stand -- could mimic people. I didn’t know...that the harm inflicted on Surface while it was imitating someone, was then echoed onto that person.”

Kakyoin frowns. What a mix of The Lovers and Yellow Temperance...

“Um- a few days ago, I got into a fight with my friend about idols,” Hazamad continues, staring down at the ground. “And I was so angry afterward...I just- I wanted to see him hurt, so I had my stand mimic him and- and stab himself in the eye,” Hazamda swallows thickly. “Because he ‘clearly wasn’t seeing things correctly’. Or something.”

Kakyoin sucks in a breath, already knowing where this story was going. Jeez…this kid has some issues.

“But the next day at school, I found out he had actually stabbed his eye out in person,” Hazamada finishes weakly, “so...that’s how I found out that portion of my abilities.”

“Hell,” Kakyoin says, frowning. “That’s- that really fucking sucks, kid.”

Hazamada nods, staring down at the ground still. Kakyoin hums, staring down at him.

“Kid-”

“That night, when I got home,” Hazamada cuts him off, looking up at Kakyoin from between strands of his hair, “Red Hot Chili Pepper found me and talked to me. Said he- he knew what I did, but he would make sure no one else found out if I just killed one douchebag for him.”

Kakyoin smothers a snort building in his chest at the notion of calling Jotaro a “douchebag”. Now’s not the time. “Did he talk to you in person?” Kakyoin asks instead, but Hazamada shakes his head.

“No. He just called me, like you.”

“Ugh,” Kakyoin rolls his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose again. “This fucking guy…such a goddamn coward.”

Hazamada hums, before looking down. “I agreed to his terms. The last thing he said was just...to be careful. That standusers attract other standusers, so I should keep my guard up.” He laughs a little, tone self-deprecating. “Well, even with my guard up, you, Josuke, and that Hirose kid got me.”

Kakyoin shrugs. “We just have more experience.”

Hazamada hums before shaking his head. “I don’t know anything more than that, though, about Red Hot Chili Pepper.”

Kakyoin nods, leaning against one of his armrests. Standusers attract standusers…

Well, that would explain a couple of things.

“Alright, let me just- get to a payphone and call the Speedwagon Foundation,” Kakyoin says, and Hazamada nods before dejectedly following after Kakyoin’s wheelchair as he heads deeper into the station to find one of the many payphones, Hierophant keeping watch to make sure Hazamada doesn’t book it with his back turned.

After calling in an agent, who says they’ll be there in five minutes, as “We already have people there because Mr. Kujo wanted to speak with someone earlier,” Kakyoin just finishes hanging up when he hears the doors to the sparsely-populated station slam open and the scurrying of feet following it.

“Mr. Kakyoin!?” He can hear Josuke’s voice echo throughout the station. Hazamada stiffens beside him. “Mr. Kakyoin, are you okay?! Did you get him?”

“Mr. Kakyoin!” Koichi calls out, and Kakyoin can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Over here!” He yells as he rolls around the corner the line of payphones were on, Hazamada hesitantly trailing beside him at Hierophant’s silent insistence.

The crashing of feet against linoleum echoes around the long hallway before Josuke and Koichi round the corner, both looking startled. Josuke’s shoulders immediately relax upon seeing Kakyoin.

“Mr. Ka-”

Josuke and Koichi skid to a stop a few meters away from Kakyoin, eyes locked on the figure beside him.

“What the hell is he doing still conscious?!” Josuke barks, glaring at his upperclassman.

Kakyoin raises a brow. “He needs to be conscious to be registered by the Speedwagon Foundation.”

Josuke blinks before he scowls. “It doesn’t even look like you roughed him up though! What gives, Mr. Kakyoin, I thought you were going to help us?!”

Hazamada rolls his eyes while Kakyoin just raises a brow, amused. “Oh, he got roughed up alright. Had a fun time choking while Hierophant strangled him at one point.”

Hazamada’s face turns red and he glares at Kakyoin, while Josuke just blinks. “Oh,” He says. “Okay. I guess that’s fine then.”

Kakyoin shakes his head. “Also, he’s not gonna kill Kujo anymore, so I’d say I was helpful.”

It’s Josuke’s turn to flush, his gaze darting down. “Right- sorry, I wasn’t trying to imply you weren’t, just…”

“No, I get it,” Kakyoin reassures, rolling forward to gently bump his wheel against Josuke’s shoe before rolling back. “If he didn’t have information we needed, I probably would’ve at least knocked him out.”

“Hey!” Hazamada says indignantly, but Josuke just chuckles, and Koichi sighs, relieved.

“Anyway,” Kakyoin says, “How did babysitting Kujo go?”

“Uh,” Josuke and Koichi exchange glances. Kakyoin raises a brow.

“What? Did you get into even more trouble?”

“No!” Josuke cries before he hesitates again. Kakyoin huffs, crossing his arms.

“Then wha-”

“Uh, Mr. Jotaro showed up outside, as expected,” Josuke says carefully and Kakyoin nods.

However, silence is all that ensues and Kakyoin sighs. “So? What happened?”

“Uh, nothing really? Just,” Josuke exchanges a glance with Koichi again, who shrugs helplessly at his friend. Josuke turns back to Kakyoin but doesn’t meet his gaze. “Um, we just talked. I told him about Hazamada and this whole mess and I assured him...you had it.” Kakyoin pauses.

“Did he say anything?” Kakyoin asks icily, and Josuke’s lips go into a thin line, exchanging glances with Koichi again.

“We kinda didn’t give him a chance to speak, so no…?” Josuke says. “...Was that what you wanted?”

Kakyoin blinks at the question, before he remembers that the last time Josuke saw Jotaro and him in the same area, Kakyoin had thrown an outright temper tantrum.

“Oh,” Kakyoin stutters, ducking his head into his scarf. He coughs before shaking his head. “No, yeah I- I don’t care. He can say what he wants, so long as it’s not bringing you into more danger.”

Josuke blinks. “Oh.”

The silence returns. Hazamada coughs.

“Basically, we bombarded him then sent him back to the hotel,” Koichi cuts in to explain, “because Josuke just thought...you wouldn’t want him around, is all.

A part of Kakyoin’s chest gives way into a bundle of warmth at the notion of these kids caring about his comfort, like sinking into a plush blanket. Another part recoils, sinking poisonous claws into Kakyoin’s surrounding insides, hissing, So weak you need high schoolers to console you? Kakyoin coughs. “Um...thanks. I suppose it is easier with him gone, so he doesn’t screw something up.”

Josuke and Koichi exchange glances again before the doors to the station open up once more, only this time, in walks a brunette, gray-uniformed Speedwagon Foundation employee.

Kakyoin nods at him, and he heads on over to their group. “Mr. Kakyoin?”

“I’m he,” Kakyoin replies, and the employee nods. His eyes dart to the boys surrounding them. “Um, and which one am I taking back to be registered?”

Kakyoin nods his head to Hazamada, who stiffens when attention is turned to him.

“Alright. This should only take an hour or so. Are you ready?”

“Uh,” Hazamada’s gaze darts to Kakyoin, who nods. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Alright, let’s go,” He calls, turning on his heel and walking away. “Do you have some form of ID on you?”

Hazamada stutters out an answer and begins stepping forward before stopping when he realizes Kakyoin isn’t following. He turns, locking eyes with Kakyoin.

“Wait, are you not coming with me?” Hazamada asks, and Kakyoin blinks.

“I mean, I can, if you need me to, but Josuke mentioned you’re a third year, so I assumed you could handle this on your own,”

Hazamada scowls at the mention of Josuke’s name, before anxiety takes over his expression again, the furrow in his brows turning upward. “...Do you think I can?”

Kkyoin shrugs again before looking Hazamada in the face. “Kid, I can’t tell you that,” Kakyoin says, “...but I can tell you that having a stand is indicative of having a strong spirit. So, I think that would suggest you can handle a little paperwork and talking on your own, yeah?”

Hazamada nods slowly before he blinks and nods again, more enthusiastically -- which admittedly, isn’t saying much, but still. “Yeah...yeah, you’re right.”

Hazamada turns on his heel then to head after the SPW agent, before he pauses, looking over his shoulder one last time. “...Thanks, Mr. Kakyoin.”

Kakyoin waves a hand, and the kid turns and runs. Kakyoin sighs, burying his face in his hands for a moment. Is all of Morioh full of crazy damn kids? This stupid arrow…

“Mr. Kakyoin?” Josuke asks, and Kakyoin sighs again before he rubs his eyes and straightens, turning his wheelchair to face the two remaining teenagers.

“And you two,” Kakyoin starts, voice lowering with an edge to it, and Koichi and Josuke immediately stiffen over its presence. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Huh?” Josuke asks, brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Going after Hazamada yourselves is what I mean!” Kakyoin hisses. “I’ve literally only given you one lesson in self-defense, and you thought that was enough to take on another standuser?!”

Josuke frowns, eyes narrowing, while Koichi winces, glancing down at the scolding.

“We were chasing leads on Okuyasu’s brother’s killer! Are you seriously saying you’d rather us to have done nothing?” Josuke seethes, hands clenching into fists.

“Yes!” Kakyoin snaps, glaring. “You could’ve gotten yourselves killed, you could’ve gotten Kujo killed, you could’ve been framed for murder, for heaven’s sa-”

“Yeah well we didn’t and it ended up fine, so stop underestimating us!” Josuke fumes, Koichi desperately yanking on his sleeve and hissing something Kakyoin can’t hear over the rush of blood in his ears. “He was working for the guy that killed Okuyasu’s brother, so what did you want us to do? Just let it slide?”

“Yes!” Kakyoin seethes, glowering, “You’re just kids-”

“I am so sick of you using that line on us,” Josuke spits, taking a step forward, only for Koichi to latch onto his arm and pull him back. “If you didn’t think we were capable, why bother training us?”

“The whole reason I’m training you is because you’re not capable! The whole first lesson went over this!” Kakyoin snarls, and Koichi’s head bows in shame while Josuke’s face scrunches in irritation of its own. “And beyond that, I didn’t teach you how to protect yourselves just for you to then search out danger on purpose!”

“Oh,” Koichi says, whipping his head back up, eyes wide, while Josuke scoffs.

“You-” Josuke is cut off by Koichi, who continues with his own revelation.

“You were worried about us, weren’t you?”

Kakyoin blinks, the rush of blood in his ears stuttering to a halt, before he averts his gaze and jerks a hand through his bangs, his other hand squeezing around the armrest of his wheelchair. “Idiots,” Kakyoin growls, “...why else would I be so mad?”

“Oh,” Josuke echoes dumbly, shock wiping the irritation off his face, smoothing out his features. His brows furrow then, eyes down-turning in guilt. “Mr. Ka-”

“Don’t go searching for danger,” Kakyoin states, voice firm, as he flips his sunglasses up to rest on the crown of his head. “Kujo and I are here to take care of any standusers that are out of line; it’s not your job, no matter if they go to the same school as you.”

Josuke’s head drops then, while Koichi keeps his gaze, brows furrowed.

“You’re kids,” Kakyoin concludes, voice softer as he lets the irritation drop from it, “so enjoy it.” Please.

They’re all quiet for a moment, Koichi’s own gaze dropping at the final sentence. Kakyoin sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose before he flips his sunglasses back down again. Josuke raises his head after a beat, pompadour bouncing with the movement.

“...You sound like you’re 50 again,” He says, and Kakyoin snorts, shaking his head.

“You’re ridiculous,” Kakyoin scoffs, but the furrow between his brow eases, the wrinkle smoothing back, “I’m only like 12 years older than you.”

“Yet you act like you’re 32 years older,” Josuke counters, and Kakyoin bumps his wheel against the toe of his shoe, effectively stubbing it. “Ow!”

“Watch it,” Kakyoin drawls, amused, before shaking his head. “Alright, fun’s over, head home.”

“Wait!” Josuke says, and Kakyoin raises a brow. “Was- did Hazamada have any information about Okuyasu’s brother’s…?”

Kakyoin sighs, shaking his head. “Not much. The killer only talked to Hazamada once on the phone, from what I could tell. His stand’s name is Red Hot Chili Pepper, though.”

Josuke grimaces. “That’s a shitty name.”

Kakyoin barks out a laugh. “Little bit.”

Koichi hums. “Still...that doesn’t bring us closer to finding the killer, huh?”

Kakyoin waves a hand. “You two don’t need to worry about that, remember?” Koichi hums, looking down. “Besides, names are useful; they can give hints to ability or personality.”

Koichi and Josuke pause, considering, and Kakyoin once more waves them off.

“Alright, kids, head home. Do some studying or something.”

Josuke groans, shaking his head, while Koichi pales, before turning to Josuke to ask in a harsh whisper, “Wait, when is that English test again?”

Kakyoin snorts softly, before escorting them out of the station. Josuke and Koichi begin their trek home, both bemoaning how screwed they are, as neither of them remember when their English test is, let alone the material it goes over. Kakyoin, meanwhile, begins to wait to hail a cab.

He surveys the surrounding area as he waits. As promised by the two students, Jotaro isn’t anywhere outside. Kakyoin hates himself for feeling relieved.

Sighing, Kakyoin rolls to the end of the sidewalk, gaze lingering on the sole bench in front of the station.

Two ships passing in the night, huh?

...Huh...

Chapter Text

Lines upon lines of shelves filled with pills and liquid medication and nasal sprays, among other over-the-counter medications, stare at Kakyoin from his place in line at some pharmacy. Kakyoin’s eyes narrow at them and he turns to look at the beige-painted linoleum floors instead as he waits his turn.

When he had gotten to his last two painkillers, he finally caved and called the Speedwagon Foundation about finding a pharmacy he could transfer his prescription to. Unsurprisingly, in the self-sustaining town that Morioh is, there is a local pharmacy uptown -- a bit of a distance from the hotel, but Kakyoin certainly didn’t care. He just needed his medication.

So, there he was, papers in his lap and one hand squeezing the armrest of his wheelchair, resting his chin in the other one as he looks, bored, around the aisles.

Pharmacies only varied so much, even overseas. The man in the chef get-up was interesting, though.

When Kakyoin was fourth in line, the man had wandered in through the doors, blue eyes gleaming in the pasty yellow artificial lighting. He was humming something Kakyoin could only hear occasional notes from when he had to raise his voice to hit them properly.

He started browsing aisles of medications, one after the other, with a pen and notepad in hand, thoroughly investigating the contents on the shelves -- but he never picked anything out, Kakyoin noted.

At this point, he has cleared three aisles and was on the fourth, this one closest to Kakyoin at his spot now second in line.

He started with cold medications and was now near stomachache and other gastrointestinal pain relievers. Kakyoin knows, at this point, this man is not picking out medication for himself or someone he lives with; he’s spent too long looking at too varying of selections. It makes Kakyoin wonder, though; what exactly is he doing, then?

The man is at the end of the aisle right now, humming as he examines the medications on the shelves and seemingly comparing what they claim to help with on their packaging. Kakyoin silently watches on.

“Ah,” The man nods, setting down the two medications he was looking at. Kakyoin shifts in his wheelchair, straining to hear his mutterings. “So the difference that made this one more preferable was it also helps with nausea in addition to pain...interesting…”

The man takes out his pen and notepad and writes something down. Kakyoin raises a brow. So he’s not checking off some shopping list, but instead seems to be...making one? Kakyoin hums. Kinda backward, isn’t it?

Not to the man, it seems. He does a once-over of his list, face pinching in satisfaction before he blinks and looks up, eyes meeting Kakyoin’s head-on.

Shit-

Kakyoin swallows and quickly darts his gaze away, feeling embarrassment stir warm and hot in his chest, creeping up to the back of his neck.

“Excuse me?”

Oh, great. Kakyoin drags his gaze up to the man, who is now standing in front of him. He has a small, pleasant smile on his face though, like he isn’t about to confront Kakyoin for staring. It almost reminds Kakyoin of a cat’s smile.

“Would you perhaps be a local?” He asks, voice thick with an accent Kakyoin can’t place -- but not so thick he can’t understand him. Kakyoin shifts in his chair, gaze darting down again. Weird way to start a “Why were you staring at me?” conversation…

“No, I’m just- here on business,” Kakyoin stutters out, cringing at his own fumbling. I wouldn’t be in this conversation if I just didn’t stare like a creep-

The man laughs. It sounds like bells, Kakyoin notes, the kind he’s heard at churches in Greece. “I see! You could say the same for me.”

“Huh?” Kakyoin asks dumbly.

“I’ve moved here in order to pursue my passion for spreading authentic Italian cuisine all over the world!” The man announces, brows furrowing in determination and pride. Kakyoin blinks.

Oh. A European.

“So, business for me too, yeah?” The man laughs again. Kakyoin isn’t sure if he should laugh with him. The man’s chuckles subside though, and he eyes Kakyoin’s wheelchair for a moment, which Kakyoin almost bristles at, but- it’s not in the way people usually look at it. There’s no furrowed brow indicative of pity on his face; instead, his expression is slack in interest. In any case, it’s only for a second, before he blinks, gasping.

“Oh, speaking of,” The man begins to dig in the pockets of his apron then, before bringing out a folded paper -- a brochure, Kakyoin realizes. “My restaurant is opening this Saturday! It’s a little on the, how do you say, outskirts of town, but I hope my food will make the travel worth it!”

Kakyoin jerks as the man places the brochure on top of his prescription notes. “Um-”

“If it makes the deal sweeter,” The man continues, “I don’t intend on charging anyone who comes in on the first day-”

“Are you not, like, creeped out at me for staring at you?” Kakyoin blurts out, before he shuts his mouth, teeth clicking together. Why the hell did I-

“Huh? Oh! Not really,” The man shrugs, shaking his head. “I’ve gotten lots of stares since moving to Japan. It must be my blond hair, no?”

“Ah-” Kakyoin blinks, thoughts jerking to a stop. Oh. So this really wasn’t a confrontation . “Er. Probably. It is quite...unusual, here, I guess,”

The man smiles, nodding. “I thought so! So I don’t mind. I am here in the first place to introduce new things after all!”

Kakyoin doesn’t quite know what to make of this man. He’s so...preppy, but not in a way that’s, well, annoying -- not yet, at least. He’s definitely odd too, but Kakyoin can’t quite place why; all he’s been so far is incredibly polite. It should be expected of a foreigner that’s new to Japan, but for some reason, Kakyoin feels that this is different...

“So, what do you say?”

Kakyoin jumps, realizing he was staring at the man’s face again with a flash of heat rolling through his face. “Huh?”

“Would you visit my restaurant’s grand opening?” He asks. “Completely free of charge, I promise. I want as many people’s feedback as quickly as possible, you see.”

“Er...” One of Kakyoin’s hands unconsciously paws at the empty spot in his chest where his stomach was supposed to be.

Tonio’s eyes dart to follow the movement before he gives Kakyoin a bright smile. “I adhere to any and all diet restrictions if that’s what you’re worried about! I might challenge one’s taste buds, but never one’s safety.” He winks.

Kakyoin’s eyes narrow, but he swallows thickly. “Ah, well,” His voice is dry. I’m acting like a damn teenager… “Why not?”

The man claps excitedly, his grin stretching even further. “Grazie, Signore! You won’t regret this, I promise!”

Kakyoin nods wordlessly when the shrill ring of a service bell echoes between the space, making him jerk his gaze up.

“Next!” The pharmacist calls to him, peering out past her station to glance at the two, and Kakyoin sighs, rolling forward some before he looks back at the strange man.

“You said it’s on the edge of town?”

“ Sí, the address is on the brochure I gave you,” The man explains, still smiling, eyes crinkling at the edges. Kakyoin nods.

“Well…” Kakyoin shrugs. “Guess I’ll see you then.”

“I cannot wait!” The man says before he turns back to the aisles he has yet to comb through, a new bounce in his step and his humming resuming.

Kakyoin watches him go for a moment before he blinks and turns back to the counter, rolling up.

As he hands in his prescription notes, he glances down at the brochure in his lap. What a strange man...

True to his word, though, the address is on the brochure. Kakyoin hums, staring down at the photograph on the front, featuring a cute, stone-bricked entrance. Well, I might as well get some free lunch this weekend...

Trattoria Trussardi.

Well, it’s surely Italian, Kakyoin supposes.

The city bus’s route was able to get him surprisingly close to the restaurant; Kakyoin only had to trail along for a block or so before he reached a cute, homey-looking building, just as was advertised. With a wooden-walled and probably closed-off second floor and a stone-walled first floor, complete with windows with wooden shudders, the place did scream Italian aesthetic. Kakyoin could appreciate the adherence to the theme if nothing else.

There was a small porch that led inside, Kakyoin notes with narrowed eyes. Stairs…

Oh, how he’s come to hate stairs so.

Still, Kakyoin only sighs before rolling up to them, beginning the give-and-take of slowly getting himself up, one step at a time -- thankfully, the steps were wide enough for him to maneuver. Hierophant’s tentacles emerge from Kakyoin to watch his back in case he began to fall.

Kakyoin makes it up to the top of the porch and just takes a moment, brushing his gloved palms against his pants. As he does, a small sign on the outside of the door catches his eye.

“Menu: Depends on the guest?” Kakyoin murmurs aloud, squinting at the small text. He supposes it was a simple way of stating the chef was open to any and all dietary restrictions, but still…

Kakyoin unconsciously fiddles with his cardigan once again, near where his stomach would be if he still had one, warnings doctors had given him when he woke up from a year-long coma ringing in his head. Your intestines are going to do the digesting now, so you’re not going to be able to eat many carbohydrates or sugars anymore… Kakyoin shakes his head.

This must be what the man was talking about at the pharmacy… He muses instead. At least he should be able to digest what’s given to him this way…?

Unease still hangs off of Kakyoin like an extra scarf as he enters the restaurant, a little bell jingling to signal his entrance. It almost reminds Kakyoin of the man’s laugh from the other day.

The inside is full of desaturated warm colors, such as light red and brown, with windows letting in natural light. Some of the unease lifts a bit, and Kakyoin looks around.

The restaurant is full of small, round tables, all set with floral centerpieces. Kakyoin hums, impressed.

The only other person in the dining room is a woman with blonde hair in a low ponytail, similar to Kakyoin’s own -- Kakyoin wonders if she was invited because the man got excited over seeing another blonde in Japan. Her own dining table is bare, save for an empty glass of water. She must be waiting on her order.

He nods at her, just to be polite, and she returns the gesture, before wiping her eyes with her wrist and going back to picking at her nails, which have been painted a smooth, pinkish purple.

Kakyoin flips up his sunglasses to rest on his head as he rolls to a random table -- there wasn’t really any counter for him to wait at instead, so he assumes seating is up to the individual…

Just as Kakyoin parks at a spot, there is a small bustle from the door that leads further to the back of the restaurant, presumably where the kitchen and stairs to the second floor were, before the same strange man from the pharmacy emerges with a flourish, his mouth stretched into a polite, but giddy, grin, the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“Benvenuto!” He calls, striding over the Kakyoin. “Glad you could make it, Signore!”

Kakyoin just shrugs -- having the man’s attention all on him again was flustering as the first time. “Ah, yeah...thanks for inviting me.”

The man waves the thanks away, still beaming. “But of course! Should I take your coat?”

“Ah- that won’t be necessary,” Kakyoin dismisses, fingering the sleeve of his cardigan in his lap. He doesn’t elaborate -- how would you even explain you need to layer up to stay at a normal temperature, no matter the season, because your body can’t regulate its own temperature anymore?

Thankfully, the man simply nods, still smiling, before moving on.

“Alright then, let’s get started! May I see your hands, Signore?” He asks, tilting his head in a way that should be friendly, should be reminiscent of a dog, but instead just makes the hair on Kakyoin’s neck stand on end. The unease from before comes drifting back to his shoulders.

“...Why?” Kakyoin asks, hunching inward, ignoring the whine of pain his back lets out at the motion. “I thought this was a restaurant, not a fortune reading.”

The man laughs, throwing his head back, and Kakyoin’s brow furrows while his hands curl into fists in his lap.

He claps his hands together when his chuckles subside, beaming at Kakyoin. “Why, Signore, it’s how I figure out what dishes to serve to my patrons!”

Kakyoin’s eyes narrow. His gaze darts towards the woman, who shrugs, before gesturing with her head as if to say, Just amuse him, it’ll be fine.

Kakyoin hums before giving the man his hand. “Alright, but- Look, you really should know, though, th-”

“Oh my,” The man murmurs, eyes trained on Kakyoin’s palm, tracing a line. Kakyoin stiffens, the urge to jerk his hand away rising with every second, nerves prickling under his touch, his muscles tense.

“What?” He ends up asking.

The man just shakes his head, giving Kakyoin another smile. Kakyoin thinks it was trying to be reassuring, but all it does is make Kakyoin more uneasy. “Oh, nothing, Signore. No sugars or carbohydrates, yes?”

Kakyoin blinks. What?

The man just stares staring at him, inquisitive. His eyes are wide, unhidden despite the tall chef’s hat he is wearing.

“Uh. Yes, that’s right,” Kakyoin responds dumbly. “...How did you-?”

The man simply backs away though, dropping Kakyoin’s hand, and smiles. “This will be a challenge, making authentic Italian food with no carbs -- but I am excited! Thank you for coming in today signore! I promise I’ll make something you’ll enjoy.” He claps excitedly before he goes to grab a chair near the table Kakyoin had chosen, moving it out of the way to make room for his wheelchair.

Kakyoin blinks, stunned, but the man doesn’t wait for a response; he simply turns on his heel and strides back to his kitchen, humming as he does, similar to the way he was acting in the pharmacy.

Kakyoin squints, staring after him, but when he disappears out of view in the backroom, he turns back to the table. Okay...really weird…

Kakyoin flips over his hand, looking at his own palm. ...Does something about my hand make it obvious? He supposes it was possible, but…

Kakyoin sighs. Maybe Avdol would know? A part of him innocently questions, making the rest of him pang in sadness. Avdol…

Kakyoin still needed to call him back.

“Quite odd, isn’t he?”

Kakyoin jerks, whipping his head up from staring down at his hand. The woman is now facing him, eyes sharp but features set in a neutral, polite manner.

“...Yeah,” Kakyoin eventually says, settling more at his place at the table. “Did he do that hand thing to you, too?”

She nods. “Somehow found out about my gluten allergy just from that.” She taps her chin, turning to face Kakyoin more, and he can see she’s wearing stylized pink scrubs. “I never gave much thought to palm reading, but if there’s something behind it…”

Kakyoin shrugs, again thinking of Avdol with a pang. “I’m sure there’s some science behind it.”

She hums, smiling to herself about something Kakyoin can’t quite get, before she glances at her empty water glass. She pauses, staring at it, but doesn’t say anything else.

There’s another shuffling near the backroom entrance, and Kakyoin jerks his head back to it just when the strange man enters through again, humming, carrying another glass of water.

He saunters over to Kakyoin, placing the glass down on the table beside him. “Here you are, Signore,” He says, straightening with a smile. He glances over the to woman, still smiling. “Your food will be done in just a few more minutes Signora,” He turns back to Kakyoin. “Yours as well. I hope you both enjoy it!”

He turns back on his heel and reenters the backroom. When Kakyoin focuses, he can smell spices and oils wafting from the room. Mmm...it does smell good, I’ll give him that.

Kakyoin turns to his water, and out of the corner of his eye, he notices the woman is still watching him. The hair on Kakyon’s neck begins to stand on end.

He shoots her a glance, and she jerks her gaze away. Serves you right… Kakyoin snarks to himself, but when he turns back to his glass of water, so too does her gaze return to him.

Annoyed, Kakyoin glances back and raises a brow at her.

She purses her lips, eyes narrowing, gaze darting to his water.

“Do you want a sip?” Kakyoin asks dryly, and she shakes her head.

“No,” She says, staring suspiciously at the water, “but I think you should take one.”

Kakyoin squints. Her own water is empty… Kakyoin reminds himself, and while this restaurant owner is weird, I don’t think he’s a part of some trafficking ring or murder duo. So we’re probably drinking the same thing, and thus, it should be safe…

Kakyoin hums, glancing back at his water. Well, even if it’s not safe, it wouldn’t be the first time Hierophant’s had to dive into my esophagus to pull back out something I definitely should not have eaten...

Kakyoin grabs a hold of his glass and takes a sip.

...And it’s just water. Good water; It’s cold, but not so much so that it makes Kakyoin’s teeth hurt; there’s a hint of minerals, but they’re just neutral enough Kakyoin can only be aware they’re there, no what they particularly taste like.

Kakyoin takes another sip and his vision blurs.

His heart lurches for a second, and Kakyoin immediately places the glass down, but he blinks, and the moisture is gone. His nose burns the slightest bit, and Kakyoin blinks again. Was he about to cry?

Kakyoin glances at the woman, but she’s doing a better job of hiding her watching of him, only glancing up at him from her nails.

Kakyoin turns back to the water, eyes narrowed. He’s not foolish enough to think this is all coincidence, but that is just water. So why…?

“How is it?” The woman asks, and Kakyoin jerks his gaze to her, squinting.

“...Fine,” He grunts. She hums. Kakyoin twitches. “Why do you care so much? Do you work here or something?”

The woman outright laughs at that, and Kakyoin scowls. “No, no,” She says, chuckling, waving a hand dismissively at the idea. “I’m not a great cook. Definitely couldn’t handle Italian. Just…”

The mirth in her face drips off, leaving her with a slightly furrowed brow and a frown, glancing back at her own empty water.

She hums, darting her gaze back to Kakyoin. “Could you take another sip? A bigger one?”

Kakyoin narrows his eyes at her and she sighs, resting her chin on her palm.

“I know I’m acting suspicious, but-” Her gaze darts to the backroom entrance before she turns back to Kakyoin, blue eyes shining intently in the afternoon light streaming in from the windows. “I think something weird is going on here,” She finishes lowly.

Kakyoin hums, understanding dawning on him. He glances back at his water, before his gaze darts to her empty glass.

She follows his train of thought. “I don’t think it’s poison,” She says, “just...try it. You’ll see what I mean.”

Kakyoin squints at her, but he’s too tired to argue. Besides, it’s clear the woman is anxious to confirm or debase whatever her suspicions are; she’s on the edge of her seat, now unashamedly staring at Kakyoin’s water. Kakyoin can’t deny he’s starting to get a little antsy, too.

Kakyoin picks up the glass and takes a bigger swig, gulping down a couple of mouthfuls.

His vision immediately blurs again, and when Kakyoin instinctively blinks, a tear races so quickly down his face it simply grazes his cheek rather than fully tracing it. He slams the water back down on the table and scrubs at his eyes, confusion and embarrassment twisting in his chest.

“What the hell-”

“So it wasn’t just mine,” The woman wonders, before she stands up from her table, dragging her chair over to Kakyoin’s, and sitting back down.

Kakyoin squints at her, silently demanding an explanation. She meets his gaze unflinchingly.

“My water also made me cry,” She explains. “It was very sudden. I wasn’t -- and still am not -- feeling particularly emotional or in pain, yet...”

She gestures to her face, and Kakyoin can see the faint redness indicative of tears surrounding her eyes and nose.

Kakyoin sits back, staring daggers at his water. “I’m certainly not very emotional either.” Kakyoin sighs, running a hand through his long bang. “I just wanted a hassle-free lunch, dammit…”

The woman chuckles, shrugging. “It still can be. Since we both had the same reaction, this water might just be some special blend or something.”

Kakyoin hums, pausing. “I guess…A warning from the chef that it could cause spontaneous crying would’ve been appreciated, though.”

The woman nods her agreement, but her shoulders sag in relief. “Honestly, I’m just glad it wasn’t only me. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to drug me but slipped the wrong kind or something.”

Kakyoin pauses, understanding dawning in him. “Oh. Yes, I’m sure this is quite a relief, then.”

She chuckles. “I could’ve easily taken care of myself, especially because if it was a drugging scenario, he gave me the wrong kind.” She sighs, tipping a finger to her chin. “Still, though, men who think they can get their way through brute force like that are annoying. They’re like flies; they’re gross and I hate dealing with them.”

Kakyoin laughs, nodding his head. “Well, I’ll consider it lucky for the chef he isn’t up to anything nefarious then.”

The woman smiles sharply, gaze turning down to the table, tracing the pattern on the cloth with her long nail. Kakyoin almost wants to ask her where she got them painted; they really were nicely done...

“Men don’t usually mess with me, but sometimes the stupid ones underestimate me,” The woman briefly elaborates, staring down at Kakyoin, and Kakyoin realizes she’s testing to see if his previous comment was condescending or not.

Kakyoin just chuckles darkly, his own gaze dropping down now, only this time to his wheelchair, tracing over his armrest. “Oh trust me, I understand a few things about underestimation.”

Understanding dawns in the woman’s eyes, and she nods, settling more comfortably into her seat.

Kakyoin drags his gaze away from his wheelchair, back to his water. It was really good, and so long as he monitors his intake, the tears shouldn’t be overwhelming...

“I’m Tsuji Aya,” The woman says abruptly, and Kakyoin jerks his gaze back up to her face.

“Kakyoin Noriaki,” Kakyoin responds, and Aya hums, nodding.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around Morioh before, Mr. Kakyoin,” Aya teases lightly, and Kakyoin shrugs, taking a small sip of water.

“Just Kakyoin is fine,” He says absent-mindedly before placing the water back down. “And- no, I’ve never been until now. I’m just…” Kakyoin pauses. “I’m just here as a favor for a friend,” Kakyoin says lightly.

“Sweet deal of a favor,” Aya comments. “Morioh’s a nice town. Big enough to be ideal for starting a business, but small enough that it’s not overwhelming -- or too expensive.”

Kakyoin blinks. “Oh, do you have a business, too?”

Aya nods, smiling, steepling her fingers together. “Sure do. I’ve been running a salon downtown for a few years now.”

“Congrats on the success,” Kakyoin comments, and she smiles, shrugging.

“It was a little hard at first, standing out among the competition, but,” She smiles knowingly, the curve of it almost a little cocky, “I have something they don’t, so it didn’t take long to make a name.”

Kakyoin raises a brow but doesn’t pry. He wouldn’t know what to do with beautician secrets, anyway, even if she did tell him. “Well, good on you. It’s good to know your strengths.”

She nods, still almost smirking to herself. Kakyoin takes a sip of water again and she re-examines her nails.

As if he was waiting for a natural pause in the conversation, the chef returns from the back room the second Kakyoin places his glass down, two plates in his hands.

“Lunch is rea- oh! I see you two have become friends while I was away!” The man says cheerily.

Kakyoin and Aya exchange glances. “Yeah,” Kakyoin agrees lightly, “I suppose.”

The man smiles. “I’m so glad I could bring people together with my restaurant! This is shaping up to be a great grand opening!” He cheers, before placing the plates down on the table. He glances at Kakyoin’s still halfway-full glass of water and frowns, but says nothing. Kakyoin’s eyes narrow at this before he turns to the food.

On the plate that’s placed in front of Kakyoin is what smells like chicken, covered in a white garlic sauce, with bits of garnish sitting atop it, along with some tomatoes and lettuce on the edge of the plate for a sort of side salad, Kakyoin guesses. He can feel his mouth water a little in anticipation; it does certainly smell and look good…

On Aya’s side is a plate of shrimp covered in a more brown-colored sauce, with garlic, peppers, and tomatoes intermixed with the dish, along with its own garnish on top.

“For your dish, Signora, ” The man explains, gesturing to her plate and smiling brightly, “I prepared Shrimp Fra Diavolo. Little-to-no gluten, but big on protein!”

Aya smiles and nods. “Thank you, Mr…” She pauses. “I’m so sorry, I just realized I never got your name, how rude of me...”

The man claps and laughs, shaking his head. “No, no! I should be the one to apologize, I should’ve mentioned it earlier!” The man crosses an arm across his stomach and bows politely. “I am Tonio Trussardi, at your service!”

Aya nods, giving the man a small smile. “Well, thank you, Mr. Trussardi. It looks delicious.”

Tonio chuckles, waving a hand. “Oh, you flatter me, Signora.” He turns to Kakyoin then, looking at the food he prepared with pride. It was hard to remain suspicious of him when he seemed so genuine… “And for you, Signore, I have prepared a simple, low-in-fat chicken breast complete with a creamy garlic sauce, and a small makeshift salad with lettuce and tomato, featuring an apple cider vinegar dressing.”

Kakyoin blinks. “Oh, wow. That does sound really good,”

The man beams, his smile so wide his eyes are almost closed. “Grazie! I hope it tastes just as good as it sounds.”

Kakyoin huffs a laugh, nodding.

Tonio then pulls out utensils wrapped in napkins for both him and Aya from one of the pockets on his apron, before he gives them some space, backing away a step or two.

Tonio pauses for a moment, fiddling with his apron while Kakyoin and Aya pull out their respective utensils and prepare to eat. Tonio takes a deep breath then and speaks up.

“I hope you don’t mind, but would it be alright if I stuck around while you two eat? I just want to be on hand for any of your feedback or commentary,” He says. Kakyoin and Aya glance at each other.

“...No, that’s fine,” Aya says slowly, and Tonio smiles, bowing his head.

“Grazie! Well, don’t let me intimidate you; enjoy!”

Kakyoin and Aya lock eyes. Aya shrugs, turning down to her plate, and after a moment of hesitation, Kakyoin follows suit.

Turning his gaze back down to the chicken, Kakyoin pins a piece with his fork and cuts it out with his knife. He hesitates for a second, but he sees Aya bringing her own fork to her mouth, so he complies as well and takes the bite.

It’s... really, really, damn good. Even just the sauce, with the tangy and yet somewhat sweetness garlic is known for, makes Kakyoin hum, pleased, but when he chews, the meatiness and juiciness of the chicken joins in, combining with the sauce to overwhelm his tongue with savor.

Kakyoin blinks, chewing faster and going to cut another piece, and distantly he can hear Aya hum as well, her tone high in surprise and delight.

Kakyoin takes his other bite, and it’s just as good as the first time, flavor washing over his tongue like a wave on the shore. The chicken is tender, easily sliceable, but the texture is just the slightest bit resistant, indicative of all meat, and it’s an incredible combination. Kakyoin goes to cut another piece while he sees Aya pin two more shrimp with her fork.

Tonio fiddles with his apron, a nervous smile on his face. “How do you like it?”

Kakyoin swallows but continues cutting a new piece. “It’s- it’s really good- it’s fantastic actually,” He stammers out, giving Tonio a quick smile. “I think this is one of the best things I’ve ever tasted, easily.”

Tonio laughs, cheeks flushing a bit. “Oh, you don’t need to flatter me, Signore, ” But he smiles proudly, brows furrowed humbly.

Aya swallows before seconding Kakyoin. “No, he’s right, this is- I’ve never had food like this before. Beyond just the taste, the- the textures, the combinations of ingredients, it’s incredible!”

Tonio laughs again, cheeks flushing darker before he gives the two a warm smile. “Well, I’m very glad you both think so. I’m trying my best to adhere to the different tastes in Japan while also keeping my food authentic, you see,”

Kakyoin swallows another bite. “I think you’re doing a hell of a job,”

Aya nods, biting into another shrimp, when she pauses.

Kakyoin glances up, pausing in his cutting off another piece. “Ms. Tsuji? Are y…” Kakyoin trails off, something in his chest lurching. “What-”

Aya drops her fork, the clatter of it against her plate making Kakyoin jerk his gaze back to her. She looks paler all of a sudden, hands shaky and fingers limp, as if she’s lost control of her motor functions.

“Ms. Tsu…” Kakyoin loses the breath to finish the sentence when his chest lurches again, whatever it was in there knocking against his lungs, like a drunk stumbling around their own apartment.

What was happening?! Kakyoin’s gaze jerks to Tonio, but he looks oddly relaxed, still smiling. Horror washes cold and thick into Kakyoin’s chest cavity. He hopes it drowns whatever is in there lunging at his organs.

What happened. What happened. Poison? One part of him panics.

It can’t be poison, it’s acting too fast to be tasteless poison, and it’s clearly ingestive poison because Tonio is still fine and standing, another part of him reasons, but the first part just wails in response.

Then what else could it be?!

Small, red flashes dart about in Kakyoin’s peripheral, and he jerks his gaze back to Aya. She’s staring down, mutely horrified, as something bubbles underneath the hands of her skin, rippling like it was boiling. As she’s concentrated on that, though, she’s missing the small specs flying around her head. They don’t stay for long though; they dart away from her, and Kakyoin’s gaze follows them. They return to Tonio.

Oh, shit. Kakyoin’s very suddenly reminded of Hazamada’s warning: Standusers attract standusers.

So much for a hassle-free lunch…!

Chapter Text

Was this...a stand attack? But why? Kakyoin’s thoughts are muddied in panic, but his eyes narrow and he turns to snarl at Tonio when his chest constricts again, the thing -- what ever it was, stand or poison -- inside him creeping down to his intestines. Red Hot Chili Pepper…

But if Tonio is working with Red Hot Chili Pepper, why drag Aya into this? Kakyoin grits his teeth. Tonio trains his eyes on the woman in question, watching closely as she scoots back from the table, her legs strong enough to push away but not strong enough to stand as her hands continue bubbling in front of her. He’s stopped smiling all innocently at least, gazing with a neutral expression down at whatever was happening with Aya’s hands -- not surprised, only interested...

Who cares why, Kakyoin thinks, shaking his head to refocus before staring daggers at Tonio, this is a hell of a messed up way to take someone out, though -- so maybe Tonio just likes attacking people, regardless of if he has a reason or not.

Kakyoin grits his teeth and manages to push away from the table, rolling back in his wheelchair, glaring at Tonio as he does, snarling like a cornered animal.

Tonio jumps at the sudden movement, jerking his gaze from Aya to face him. “Signore-”

Kakyoin just snarls wordlessly while Hierophant erupts into view around him, tentacles racing toward Tonio. Aya jumps, wide eyes following the appendages while Tonio yelps, his own eyes widening, before dodging at just the right minute, the tentacle only cutting his sleeve rather than wrapping around him to constrict his body. Dammit…!

But this confirms he’s a standuser, one part of him notes gravely.

Tonio’s jaw drops open, one arm coming up to paw at his torn sleeve, and Kakyoin grits his teeth, Hierophant’s tentacles shivering in reflection of his anger.

“Who the hell are you?!” Kakyoin snaps, voice ragged, as Hierophant’s humanoid form manifests beside him, the stand’s headlight-like eyes staring in concern at his user as his intestines begin to twist in discomfort.

Tonio raises his hands in surrender, wide eyes locked onto Hierophant Green. “I’m- I’m a chef, I’m- you have one too?”

Kakyoin snarls and sends another tentacle Tonio’s way, hoping to actually ensnare him this time. Tonio jerks away, but the tentacle wraps around his arm, tugging him forward, digging harshly into the skin.

Tonio yelps as he’s dragged closer to Kakyoin. “Have what, a stand?” Kakyoin growls, wincing as his intestines recoil even more in discomfort as what ever Tonio did to him pokes and prods them. “Of course I have one. You mean you didn’t know I’m a standuser? That isn’t why you attacked me?” So is he not with Red Hot Chili Pepper…? But why else would he pull a stunt like this?!

But Tonio isn’t quite listening; he just pauses, stopping his resistance. “Stands...is that what they’re call-? AH!”

Kakyoin jerks him forward again, yanking his arm down so he stumbles down into a kneeling position, now face-to-face with Kakyoin. Kakyoin sneers at him, teeth bared, and Tonio goes pale, freezing in Hierophant’s grip. I need answers. Now.

“Who put you up to this?” Kakyoin seethes, and Tonio blinks, eyes wide. “Who?! Was it Red Hot Chili Pepper?”

“Who?!” Tonio asks, face openly fearful and shocked. Kakyoin just growls and shakes his head. Does he seriously- what are the odds of being attacked by someone with no connection to the guy who wants me dead or out of this town?

Hierophant whips a tentacle around Tonio’s chest, tightening around it threateningly, akin to an anaconda wrapping around its prey.

“ Wha-!” Tonio yelps, head jerking down, his chef’s hat falling to the floor. The contact jerks him back into motion, and he begins struggling against Hierophant’s hold, but it’s too late to be effective. Hierophant wraps another tentacle around Tonio’s free hand, before bringing his arms behind his back, restraining him further.

Kakyoin changes his line of questioning, rolling further into Tonio’s space, giving off the impression of No escape .

“What the hell are you doing to u-” Kakyoin’s mouth stays open but no sound comes out. The force -- Tonio’s stand , probably, it can’t be poison, it’s too direct, too intentional -- has reached his spine, particularly the part of it that was held together with metal and a prayer.

Pain rockets all across Kakyoin’s lower back, and it’s so intense his vision swims, Hierophant losing grip on Tonio.

“Ah- us…?” Kakyoin wheezes out the rest of his question, retreating a handful of centimeters, head beginning to spin as his brain is overloaded with pain signals, his stomach lurching against the bites of chicken he just ate, clenching down unhappily against them.

“Mr. Kakyoin?!” He can faintly hear Aya call, but he can’t respond.

Kakyion’s mouth opens and closes once, twice, but the pain just keeps coming, layer after layer of fire reach up and up and up, his lower back completely ash and grit, not strong enough to hold its own, not stable enough, collapsing, collapsing, collapsing-

Kakyoin wheezes and Hierophant has swirl up into his humanoid form to hold out his arms and catch Kakyoin as he slips forward out of the wheelchair, losing his balance to stay upright.

He can’t see, he can’t see, he’s overheating, this is just like N’Doul, no -

Hierophant jerks a tentacle to Kakyoin’s mouth, and he belatedly realizes Hierophant is trying to reach in and pull out whatever the hell Tonio put in him. Kakyoin drops open his jaw a little more and Hierophant slivers inside.

Kakyoin shivers at the feeling of his own stand creeping down his throat, tears welling in his eyes reflexively as he gags against the tentacle, the waxy texture of his stand’s skin not helping in the slightest. His stomach twists tighter around his bits of lunch.

Distantly, he can hear Tonio saying something, voice high and panicked, and Aya responding in turn, voice sharp and nervous, but he can’t make out the words -- and frankly, he doesn’t care right now; what he does care about is making the pain stop, please make it stop, make it stop, make it stop-

His back was screaming . It was so loud that the vocalizations echoed throughout Kakyoin’s blood, reverberated through his muscles and tissues, roaring in his ears. The sweat forming on his brow acts as the tears his spine was trying to shed, actual tears of pain forming in Kakyoin’s eyes, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it HURT-

Hierophant latches onto something and immediately ejects out of Kakyoin’s throat, slithering backward and rubbing harshly against the lining of his epiglottis as he does, and Kakyoin gags. Hierophant’s tentacle slides hastily and clumsily against the walls of his throat, and he coughs harshly when the tentacle finally retreats from it as a whole.

His chest is stuttering, heaving in his lungs’ attempts to regain his breath, and Hierophant is still holding him, but the pain has subsided, at least enough so that he could see again. Kakyoin gasps in air, wiping the tears from his eyes with a quick swipe against the back of his glove, before he glares down at Tonio, lips curled into an animalistic snarl. Hierophant throws what it ensnared at Tonio, and unsurprisingly, it’s a clump of those weird red things Kakyoin saw surrounding Aya -- it’s Tonio’s stand, it has to be.

Tonio doesn’t seem to be in pain despite the hold Hierophant had on his stand -- Guess that’s one of us then, Kakyoin thinks sourly -- but he’s simply staring at Kakyoin from his slouched position on his knees, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Suddenly, Aya is behind Tonio, hand reaching down to grip his throat, and Kakyoin jerks his gaze up to see another stand, this one clearly with Aya. It’s pink with hints of gold, and it, frankly, looks like a robot or cyborg of some sort. It almost reminds Kakyoin of Silver Chariot in some way...

Kakyoin clears his throat, swallowing against the soreness that’s already developing, as he keeps up his glare. Meanwhile, Hierophant sets him back into his wheelchair properly before raising its tentacles threateningly around Kakyoin’s figure. “What the hell?”

Tonio blinks, before snapping shut his jaw. “Oh, my God,” He says faintly, and it reminds Kakyoin of Joseph, startlingly.

“ Explain, ” Aya murmurs dangerously, tightening her grip on the man’s throat, and Kakyoin coughs again before settling in a little more in his wheelchair, deflating against it.

Tonio nods, his shock wearing off, and seriousness seeping into his features, stiffening them. Kakyoin hadn’t thought the expression possible for the man, in all honesty, but today was just full of surprises apparently...

“I am sorry,” Tonio begins, locking eyes with Kakyoin. Kakyoin scowls, but he doesn’t drop his gaze or interrupt. “I truly am sorry. I didn’t realize you two both had- what did you call them? Stands?”

Kakyoin rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t matter what they’re called. Why the hell did you attack us?! Do you mean to say you’re seriously not with Red Hot Chili Pepper?” Kakyoin scoffs. “What, is this how you get your kicks or something? Huh?”

“A-attack? Red Hot…?” Tonio asks faintly, before shaking his head frantically. “No, no- I-” He pauses, collecting himself, before furrowing his brow and squaring his shoulders, meeting Kakyoin’s steely gaze again. “I wasn’t trying to attack you -- or anyone. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Kakyoin barks out a laugh while Aya’s hand on his throat tightens even more. Tonio’s chest heaves as his airway is constricted. “Really?” She asks lowly, “then what the hell was that just now, if it wasn’t an attack, huh?”

“Please let me explain,” Tonio wheezes and Aya relaxes her grip incrementally, though her stand places a hand against the back of his neck to keep the level of threat consistent. Tonio tenses, but doesn’t object, and instead trains his wide eyes onto Kakyoin, determination seeping to mingle with the panic on his face.

Tonio sucks in a couple of breaths, before stammering, “My- my power -- my stand? -- my power, it’s called Pearl Jam, and it- it- when my stand is ingested, it’s able to go around and fix ailments inside the body. Like an all-purpose herb,” Tonio explains.

Aya and Kakyoin both raise their brows at him and Tonio shrugs helplessly, turning his gaze up to Aya.

“It’s true! S-Signora, your hands, they were awfully cramped when you came in, yes? And your shoulders?” Aya blinks, surprise smoothing out her features. “But now you’re able to grip my throat with such force so easily,” Tonio laughs nervously, gaze darting downward, before flickering up again. “That’s because my Pearl Jam eased the aches away.”

“Oh,” She murmurs, locking eyes with Kakyoin. Kakyoin hums, narrowing his gaze back at Tonio. Aya clicks her tongue, turning her gaze back down to Tonio. “...Let’s say we believe you. So you’re really a healer?”

“Yes,” Tonio sighs, shoulders slumping. “Most people -- in fact, everyone else I’ve used Pearl Jam on -- didn’t notice them at work. Some of the symptoms, yes, like the water that makes you cry,” Tonio gestures with a nod of his head to Kakyoin’s still unfinished glass, “but not the stand itself as they travel through and fix things.” Tonio pauses thoughtfully. “I guess now I know the other customers didn’t notice because they didn’t also have powers…”

Kakyoin’s gaze remains trained on Tonio, and Tonio stares evenly back. He’s shaking a little -- clearly frightened -- but his stand has dissipated, and he stands at attention in Aya’s grasp, accepting her warning squeezes without complaint, keeping his gaze locked onto Kakyoin only.

Kakyoin holds his gaze for a moment longer, before he sighs, leaning back in his chair. Aya’s eyes narrow, but she does let go of the chef, her stand dissipating.

Tonio breathes out a sigh of relief, crumpling in on himself. “Here, let me show you,” He murmurs, waiting for Kakyoin and Aya to give him permission -- he receives it with a grunt of interest from Aya -- before summoning his stand again for them both to examine. “See? They’re harmless. I don’t think they have any offensive maneuvers...”

Kakyoin rolls his eyes. “They literally go inside people’s bodies. It’d be easy for them to kill.”

Tonio winces, frowning at the thought. “I...I guess,” He says unevenly, “but I’ve never trained them for that. When I realized what I could do -- what they could do -- I focused on using my cooking and my powe- my stand, to heal those around me.” He locks eyes with Kakyoin again, gaze wide -- the picture definition of earnest.

“I truly only want to use them for good. I didn’t realize you both also had powers -- and even if I did, I wouldn’t have realized you’d be able to feel Pearl Jam working its magic until...well, just now. I never meant to startle you.” Tonio pauses, eyes skirting to Kakyoin’s wheelchair, making him bristle, digging his fingertips into the leather of his armrests. “...Or to hurt you.”

Kakyoin just scoffs at him, but he looks up to Aya for her judgment. Her eyes are narrowed, but she just shakes her head and shrugs, the stoniness in her face letting up a bit, relaxing.

He sighs, running a hand through his bang. “...Alright, fine. I guess you’re telling the truth about just wanting to heal. But if you were just trying to heal her hands, what the hell were you doing to me? Are you sure some jackass didn’t call you and tell you to murder the only 20-something-year-old in town that’s in a wheelchair?” Kakyoin snaps, town flat and sardonic, like a tongue-full of salt.

“What?” Tonio asks, brows furrowed in confusion. “No, I- I’m sure...why would someone even want you d…” Tonio stiffens, jerking his gaze up, looking at Kakyoin with wide-eyed horror. “When you said you were here on business, you didn’t mean- ah, mafia business, did you-?”

“What? No!” Kakyoin spits, rolling his eyes. “Who the hell do you think I am?”

“Who do you think I am?” Tonio cried. “You’re accusing me of trying to take you out! I’m not an assassin!”

“I-” Kakyoin pauses. When you put it like that, I sound like the unreasonable one… “Oh. Huh.”

“Boys,” Aya sighs, her voice edged, “let’s figure this out.” She points to Kakyoin. “Mr. Trussardi has already explained a little, so you explain now; what business exactly are you here for? I thought you were here for a friend?” Kakyoin almost winces at the accusatory tone in her voice. “And either way, why would someone be trying to kill you because of it?”

Kakyoin huffs out a sigh, shaking his head. Fair questions… “...The business is personal effects,” He starts dryly, “I am here for a friend -- a stupid, annoying bastard of a friend -- who ‘accidentally’ got a woman pregnant the last time he was here. But unfortunately, he didn’t know about that pregnancy and the resulting child until recently, and now he’s too old to travel himself to visit his son. So I’m here on his behalf to just watch over the kid for a while.” Good enough.

Aya and Tonio blink. “Oh,” Aya says softly.

Kakyoin huffs, shaking his head. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? But it’s not the kid’s fault his dad is a hot mess, so…” Kakyoin shrugs. “...It wouldn’t be fair for no one to visit at all because of that.”

Aya and Tonio hum, Aya nodding as she does.

“That’s very kind of you to do, Signore,” Tonio says. Kakyoin just waves the compliment away, shaking his head. Kind isn’t the word I’d use...

“Okay, but then why would someone want you dead for that?” Aya asks, brows furrowed, her stand mirroring her confusion by tapping a finger to its chin, tilting its head. “Is your friend in the mafia if not you-?”

“No one is in the mafia,” Kakyoin clarifies dryly, stifling the urge to laugh at the idea of Joseph as a New York mobster, complete with a cigar and pistol. Please, he’d end up shooting himself.. . Tonio hums and Kakyoin shakes away his thoughts. “It’s…”

Kakyoin sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s...a long story, but I should probably tell it to you two, considering you’re also standusers...” He mutters.

Aya and Tonio blink, before Aya gestures for him to continue.

Kakyoin sighs. “Long story short, but apparently Morioh was home to some crazy prick that had this- this is going to sound crazy, but there was some crazy prick in town that had this arrow that could give people stands.”

Tonio gasps while Aya’s brow furrows. “You mean...not everyone is just born with a-a stand?” Aya asks. “They can be given one?”

Kakyoin shakes his head. “Apparently.” He sighs, running a hand through his long bang, thinking back on the stand arrow file. “Best as I can tell, about ten years ago, this stand arrow got unearthed from Egypt somewhere, and people have been losing their minds over it: giving every damn person they see a stand or killing them trying. One of those crazy assholes brought the arrow here, but got killed, and now a new crazy asshole has the arrow.”

Kakyoin sighs, shaking his head, shoulders slumping. He was exhausted; how was this his life? 

“And now the new crazy asshole knows I’m here. He doesn’t want other standusers to get in his way, so he’s been threatening me, trying to get me out of town. He’s too cowardly to try himself though; he’s already tried to kill before by convincing other standusers to do the job...so,” Kakyoin gestures to Tonio. “You can see why I thought that was the case here too, then, can’t you?”

“Oh,” Tonio says, voice faint. “I- yes, yes I can. I’m so sorry for scaring you.” He repeats, head drooping low in shame, hands fiddling with the strings of his apron.

Aya squints, tilting her head. “...How do you know so much about this?” She asks. “I didn’t even know other people had powers -- stands, as you call them -- until today, but you…” She shakes her head.

“Er- that’s also kind of a long story,” Kakyoin admits, vague recollections of how the Speedwagon Foundation was founded flashing through his mind, “but- do you know the Speedwagon Foundation?”

Aya stares at him blankly while Tonio straightens and answers, “Oh! That American liberal arts funder?”

Kakyoin nods, gesturing to Tonio with his head. “Yes. Turns out they have a stand division where they go around and collect information on stands and their users, so…” Kakyoin shrugs. “That’s why I know so much.”

Aya blinks. “Do you work with the Speedwagon Foundation?”

Kakyoin huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “I wish. But no, I just-” Avdol flashes through his mind and Kakyoin frowns, gaze darting downward, “-I just have friends who do, and they keep me in the loop as a result. Get me access to documents and the like.”

Aya raises a brow and Kakyoin raises his hands defensively. “Just taking advantage of all my options, Ms. Tsuji,” He says dryly, and Aya snorts.

“Fair,” She says. “...Do you think you could get me the contact information of someone who can help me learn more?” She asks. Tonio nods his agreement.

“ Sí, I would want to learn more myself as well,” He says.

Kakyoin blinks, the edge of interest, desperation, and loneliness in Aya and Tonio’s tones fitting all too similar to how Kakyoin felt growing up…

Are naturally-born standusers just doomed to be outcasts? Kakyoin wonders to himself bitterly as he nods. “Sure. They’d be interested in talking to anyone with a stand anyway, so…”

Aya smiles then, and Kakyoin lets out a breath.

“Just- be on guard when you talk to them is all. I don’t think Red Hot Chili Pepper knows of you two if you haven’t seen him yet, but he’ll be looking for standusers in the area, so just...be careful.”

Kakyoin just sighs, shaking his head, while Aya hums, brows furrowing. “So you’re saying he’ll go after anyone with a stand?”

“...Eh,” Kakyoin says, squinting, “He’ll want to, but he doesn’t have enough information to, and, as I said, he’s too much of a coward to -- so far, at least.” Kakyoin pauses, gaze tracing over Aya and Tonio, who are both looking at him intently.

“...But I would be careful if I were you -- both of you,” Kakyoin warns, the shrill, annoying laughter he heard on the phone weeks ago echoing in his ears. “I am working on finding that damn worm and putting an end to him so my friend’s son can live in peace, but until I’m successful with that...” Kakyoin shrugs, sighing again. “Just...be on the lookout.”

Aya and Tonio both look troubled by this revelation, and Kakyoin dryly wonders if it would be an inappropriate time to ask them to go register with the Speedwagon Foundation.

“...Anyway,” Kakyoin mutters, gesturing towards Tonio, eyes steely and cold. “So if you weren’t trying to kill me, then what the fuck was that?”

“Ah-” Tonio frowns, brows furrowing in a way that’s a shade too close to pity for Kakyoin’s liking. Tonio clears his throat.

“Well, when I read your palm -- which was really just Pearl Jam giving you a once over so they would know what to fix once inside -- I could tell you were tired. That is what the water was supposed to fix,” He comments idly, glancing at the still not-empty glass disdainfully, before focusing again, turning his gaze back to Kakyoin.

“But more critical than that, I could also tell that you were in a lot of pain, particularly near your lower back. However…” Tonio’s face falls again, and Kakyoin needs to grit his teeth to avoid saying something uncouth. “I couldn’t figure out what exactly was wrong, which was a first…”

Kakyoin rolls his eyes. Tonio ignores this and continues.

“So, when Pearl Jam entered, they wanted to start at your back, but…” Tonio looks sadly at Kakyoin, the furrow between his brows turning upward. “But your system had complications that made it difficult for them to get down there.”

Kakyoin rolls his eyes, scoffing. “Yeah, I wonder why. It never crossed your mind why I physically couldn’t have carbohydrates or dairy?”

“Of course it did,” Tonio defends, “but I- I never expected- there are other conditions that could have had that dietary restriction, many of which are not so-” Tonio hesitates for a moment, and Kakyoin almost dares him to say broken , but the chef continues before he can. “-So- complex, so I was sure I could help fix something. ”

Tonio lets out a long, shaky sigh, and Kakyoin has the mind to maybe feel a little bad for his aggression thus far. “But- but what I found was...too much for any herb to fix, which means it was all past my stand’s abilities, too-”

“It’s- whatever,” Kakyoin cuts off, tired of making the man justify himself. Tonio shuts his mouth, looking ashamed. Kakyoin feels his own shame grow a little, but his outward expression never changes. “Look, it was kind of you to try, I don’t blame you for that -- but this could’ve been dangerous for you. We could’ve killed you.”

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Tonio says again, his brow still furrowed in that patronizing way, his face set in pity, and Kakyoin sees red. “But- Signore, you don’t even have a stomach, are you-”

“That was none of your fucking business,” Kakyoin spits, white-knuckling the grips of his wheelchair, while Aya gasps at the revelation.

Tonio frowns, before nodding hesitantly. “No...you’re right. I truly am sorry.” He pauses then, looking up at Kakyoin, still with that forsaken sadness, but a seriousness underlying it that Kakyoin can’t dismiss. “But...your liver…”

Ah. Kakyoin should’ve guessed he’d bring that up as well...

“It’s fine,” Kakyoin says hurriedly, and Tonio frowns.

“Are you sur-?”

“It’s fine.” Kakyoin insists, and Tonio’s expression drops the sadness, now solely serious, and it makes Kakyoin pause.

“I am no stranger to drugs or drug addiction,” Tonio states flatly, face darkening, and Kakyoin stiffens. “Especially not to painkillers. Italy -- my home...it is run by them.”

Tonio sighs then, and Kakyoin finally drops some of his defensive demeanor, staring at Tonio with his eyes still narrowed, but no longer hunched as if he was getting ready to jump and attack.

“I also know it’s hard to stop once you start. It’s...addiction, or at least the physical effects of it, is one of the things I wanted to eventually be able to help with my food -- and my ability -- but…” Tonio sighs again, before looking Kakyoin in the face. “I didn’t expect to be faced with it so soon, is all. I’m sorry I scared you and couldn’t even figure out any benefits to give you in return for it. For you -- and for my future customers -- I will never be so impulsive again.”

Kakyoin scans Tonio’s face -- so sincere, with his blue gaze clear and wide, his blond brows furrowed in determination, shoulders hiking up in resolve -- before he takes a breath and closes his eyes. “...Well, don’t worry about it. It’s…” Kakyoin sighs. “Drugs...are not something I’m abusing anymore.” Been a while since I talked about it so explicitly...

Tonio hums, before nodding. “Well...I’m glad to hear that, Signore. Congratulations.”

Kakyoin says nothing as the compliment sinks into his skin, itching.

Aya flexes her fingers before glancing at both of them, her gaze settling on Tonio. “Well, with that misunderstanding out of the way,” She starts, “I’m glad to know you aren’t going to attack us.”

She helps Tonio to his feet, which he accepts gratefully, and Kakyoin rolls back to his spot near the table, feeling a little numb, a little ill, his stomach still rocking uncomfortably in his chest. Aya returns to her own seat while Tonio stays near the edge of the table, standing.

Tonio sighs, before smiling at them both gratefully. “I know it’s quite odd, but this day still taught me a lot. I am grateful you two came in today.” He bows to them, and when he straightens again, he’s smiling softly, less show-worthy and more genuine. “I’ve never met anyone else with powers -- with stands -- before.” 

He pauses then, gaze turning down, voice softening with shyness. “...I do hope this won’t dissuade you two from visiting me?”

It’s too similar to how Kakyoin felt when he met other standusers for the first time too; clingy, desperate to stay in good grace, desperate for connection...

Aya and Kakyoin exchange glances.

Kakyoin sighs and waves a hand. “Alright, just- don’t try this- don’t use Pearl Jam again on me,” Kakyoin huffs in warning.

Tonio nods vigorously. “Of course, Signore. Never again, unless you ask me,”

Kakyoin hums -- Fat chance of that happening… -- before slumping into his wheelchair, ignoring how his back flares in pain over it.

Aya flexes her fingers again, staring down at the digits, marveling at how the aches in them truly are gone. “...Well, as for me...just let me know when you plan to use Pearl Jam,” She says finally, before meeting Tonio with a small smile, “but I could definitely have use for a stand that can ease aches and pains all with just a meal.”

Tonio nods enthusiastically, a grateful smile stretching across his face. “I’d love to, Signora. Grazie for trusting me to, even after all this.”

Aya offers an assurance and Kakyoin hums, glancing back down to his unfinished chicken. It still smelled good, even if it was cold by now… Ironically, the scent calms his stomach a bit. Hm...

“Is your stand what makes your cooking taste so good?” Kakyoin asks abruptly.

“Oh!” Tonio says, jerking to attention, before shaking his head. “No, no, that’s all me. I went to school for the culinary arts and perfected my own ratios for spices and such from there.”

Kakyoin sighs then, picking up his fork again halfheartedly, tapping it against the plate. His mouth waters the slightest bit again at the scent. “Well, then. Can’t let a perfectly good chicken go to waste, right?”

Tonio smiles, his brows relaxing from their furrowed state. His expression is so openly and genuinely pleased and grateful that it slams into Kakyoin like a truck with how honest it is. “Yes, of course, Signore.”

Kakyoin glances back at Aya, who has picked up her own fork again. She glances at him and smiles, shrugging, before offering her fork. Kakyoin huffs, ducking his head, but he raises his own fork in turn.

They toast their utensils -- to what, exactly, Kakyoin isn’t sure...perhaps not dying? Or not getting into a fight? -- and begin to finish their meals, Tonio watching over them, his stand kept away this time around.

Tonio fidgets, fingers pinching his apron, and Kakyoin raises a brow in his direction as he chews.

Tonio clears his throat, ears turning red. “Um...do you both still mean what you said before? About my cooking?”

Kakyoin exchanges a glance with Aya for a moment before he shrugs and she ducks her head, swallowing.

“I do still mean it,” Aya says, looking up at Tonio with amusement. “You’re a weird guy, Mr. Trussardi, but your cooking is…amazing.”

Kakyoin nods along and Aya turns back to her plate, spearing another piece of shrimp. “It’s true,” Kakyoin adds, “I didn’t know food could be presented so- so nicely, and still taste so good,”

Tonio beams then, nodding his head, his flush spreading to his cheeks. “Thank you, both…it means a lot to hear. Is there any critique you can think of?”

Kakyoin hums half-heartedly, reaching with his fork to finally try some of his salad. “Don’t use your stand.”

Tonio barks out a laugh then, and Kakyion smiles to himself. Maybe I really will come back…

Despite a rocky middle, it was, in fact, a hassle-free lunch.

Chapter Text

Kakyoin hesitates in front of his bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection and the way his clothes hang off his frame, running his hands through his bangs nervously.

This is stupid, one part of him complains.

She’s literally a beautician, do you want to look like a slob compared to her? Snaps another part.

After leaving Tonio’s, Kakyoin finally caved and asked Aya where she had gotten her nails done. Proudly, she smiled and showed off her hand to Kakyoin while saying, “Oh, that was my handiwork.”

Kakyoin had whistled in appreciation and she offered to do his nails as well -- “For a discounted price, as thanks for warning me about that Red Hot Chili Pepper man,” she had said, tone teasing, but eyes earnest, relaxed -- and now here he was, fretting over his appearance like a teenager going on their first date.

Kakyoin rolls his eyes at his own mental comparison. As if this was anything at all resembling a date.

Then why are you acting so prissy about it? Complains the first part of him again, and Kakyoin just rolls his eyes before taking out his hair tie and redoing it to be a half-bun. There. Something new and it doesn’t look awful.

Shaking his head at his own dramatics, Kakyoin rolls out of the bathroom, grabbing the scarf that he had left on the edge of his bed while he was fiddling with his hair.

He wraps it around his neck easily, his star pin gently knocking against his hip as the end of the fabric settles, and he shakes his head. He glances at the clock on his nightstand and breathes out a sigh of relief. Great, I’m not running late.

... Not yet, at least, he thinks, and he turns to the door, Hierophant reaching out to open it for him as he rolls out.

As Kakyoin heads back out to the lobby of the hotel, he goes over the directions Aya gave him again. Downtown, heart of shopping district, on a corner.

Kakyoin shakes his head. Shouldn’t be that hard to find, then. Especially with her name on the building, after all.

Kakyoin huffs as he rolls forward, smiling slightly to himself. Tsuji Aya’s Cinderella… Definitely a salon name if I’ve ever heard of one.

It was charming though, and he’d be the first to admit it.

Something shines in his peripheral, and Kakyoin glances up and around as he heads to the doors of the hotel, only to almost crash into a bystander when he catches sight of the source: the golden pins on a white hat worn by an imposing figure.

Jotaro is sitting in the small cafe area in the lobby, scouring over a notepad that looks small in his huge hands. His coat doesn’t hang off him for once -- he’s only in a black turtleneck with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. He’s taping his pen against his bottom lip, pinching it between his fingers, brows furrowed in concentration.

Jotaro blinks then, as if sensing Kakyoin’s stare, and jerks his gaze up, meeting Kakyoin’s.

Kakyoin feels like a deer in headlights for a moment. He can see Jotaro stiffen as he freezes.

They’re still meters apart, but it feels like it’s not enough of a gap. Kakyoin can see the bags under Jotaro’s eyes even from here -- but then again, that might just be part of the shadow caused by his hat.

...There’s nothing to discuss right now, Kakyoin thinks distantly. Jotaro seems to agree, seeing as he hasn’t moved at all since meeting Kakyoin’s gaze.

So instead of rolling over and starting another fight -- Joseph and Avdol wouldn’t want me to go out of my way to bitch at him anyway… -- Kakyoin just swallows and averts his gaze, rushing the rest of the way to the entrance.

Jotaro doesn’t move, but he watches him go, his stare leaving Kakyoin’s skin itching and heated, until the hotel doors close behind him, cutting off his view.

It’s as if Kakyoin was being suffocated under Jotaro’s gaze, and now that he’s out from under it, he can breathe again, which he takes advantage of, sucking in a few deep breaths.

What asshole rolls up his sleeves like that? Kakyoin thinks to himself sourly, loosening his scarf from where it hangs around his neck to give himsef a little more air. Whatever.

Kakyoin shakes his head and rolls toward the bus stop. I have other things to focus on now.

And it’s true -- he does -- but it doesn’t stop the back of his neck from continuing to itch due to some phantom bug crawling over it and it doesn’t stop his intestines from tying up in knots.

Kakyoin just sighs and considers himself lucky regarding his timing as the bus comes down the street, rolling to a stop in front of him.

As the doors open, the bus driver slides a ramp over the steps that lead into the vehicle, and Kakyoin easily rolls up them even without Hierophant’s help. He stations himself near the handicapped corner in the front of the bus, resting his head against the interior. 

He glances at the hotel entrance again. There’s no Jotaro on the sidewalk looking at or for him. Probably for the best, Kakyoin thinks, but that doesn’t stop his chest from sagging in disappointment -- what on earth it could possibly be disappointed about, Kakyoin doesn’t know. Maybe some part of him likes their spats, especially since he won the last two -- it wouldn’t be the first time Kakyoin thrived off of something so unhealthy...

The bus doors close, fortunately sealing away that train of thought, and off he goes.

After a few pauses at other stops along the route, the bus rolls up to a curb in downtown Morioh. Kakyoin flags the bus driver, who slides the ramp down the steps again, and he rolls off.

Sucking in a lungful of the spring-turning-summer air, Kakyoin takes a look around his surroundings. Businesses, particularly shops, rise all around him, from candy stores to clothing stores to restaurants.

Kakyoin rolls down the street, eyeing the town curiously; he hasn’t really explored this area before... The sidewalks are wide, decorated with planters of trees and bushes in varying degrees of flowering, filling the air with the soft scent of pollen and the sweet scent of fruits.

Kakyoin hums, glancing around as he continues down. Book store, arts and crafts store...maybe I should visit those sometime. Kakyoin’s fingers itch in interest at the idea of painting again, while his heart races at the thought of finding a good book -- it’d been a while since he’d found anything that truly interested him…

At the corner of the street, just like she’d said it would be, sits Tsuji Aya’s Cinderella, a modest store with wide front windows that show off a clean interior, complete with a front desk, chairs for waiting patrons, and a decorative line of handheld mirrors hanging on the wall. In the back, there are hooded dryers, haircut stations, sinks for hair washing, and a shelf that’s host to such a wide array of hair and body products that Kakyoin is almost overwhelmed just looking at it, let alone trying to navigate it.

Outside the store, Aya is leaning against her door frame, absent-mindedly chewing on a strawberry as she’s going over a page from a ringed pad of paper -- a calendar, maybe?

“Ms. Tsuji!” Kakyoin calls as he gets closer, and Aya jolts, blinking, before she raises her head and offers Kakyoin a smile.

“Mr. Kakyoin,” She greets with a nod, standing upright. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You as well,” Kakyoin replies, and she huffs a smile.

“How have you been? Has anyone else tried to kill you since we last talked?” Aya asks, smile sharpening with the tease, and Kakyoin rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

“You wish: now you have to deliver on that discount.” Kakyoin shoots back, and Aya laughs, shaking her head.

“How will my booked-for-months business survive this,” She questions dryly, and Kakyoin raises a brow.

“Nice brag,” He says and she hits his shoulder with her calendar.

“Please,” She chuckles, “if I can’t brag about that, what can I brag about?”

“Never said you couldn’t brag about that,” Kakyoin concedes, and Aya just huffs, shaking her head.

“It is good to see you again, Mr. Kakyoin,” She reiterates, her blue eyes resting on Kakyoin’s face. Kakyoin swallows, biting a smile, averting his gaze.

“You too. I’m glad Red Hot Chili Pepper hasn’t come after you -- I think he still must not know about you and Tonio, and hopefully it stays that way.”

Aya nods before her smile turns teasing again. “Maybe we should stop hanging out with you in that case, then, just to be safe.”

“Hey!” Kakyoin barks, and she laughs, the sound light and fluid, like the audible version of a stream of sunlight.

“Well,” Aya smiles, “come on i-”

“Mr. Kakyoin!”

Kakyoin’s head jerk shoots up at the call, Josuke’s voice calling for help so ingrained in his psyche now that he doesn’t even fully register what he’s doing before he’s doing it, turning and rolling a few feet in the direction the voice came from.

Josuke and Okuyasu are running up the street, Josuke’s pompadour bouncing along with his stride. “Mr. Kakyoin! Hey!”

Aya hums, amused, leaning against her shop’s door. “Friends of yours?”

Kakyoin sighs fondly. “Remember the son of my friend that I mentioned I was watching over?” When Aya hums an affirmation, Kakyoin nods at Josuke. “That’s him.”

Aya raises a brow at his hair but says nothing when the two boys skid to a stop in front of Kakyoin.

“Mr. Kakyoin,” Josuke wheezes, eyes wide, and Kakyoin frowns, unease settling in his stomach at how tight Josuke’s expression was. “Have you-”

“Have you seen Koichi?” Okuyasu asks, his own eyes also wide, brows furrowed in concern.

Kakyoin swallows thickly, his mouth suddenly dry. “What did you do now, Josuke?”

“Huh? Are you- no!” Josuke cries, before shaking his head, brows furrowing. “Mr. Kakyoin, this is serious; no one’s seen Koichi in almost 24 hours. His family just called asking if we knew anything!”

Kakyoin’s heart falls to the pit of his stomach. “What?”

“We’re not sure what happened, or where he is now, but-” Okuyasu pauses to pant, catching his breath, before continuing with, “-but we’re sure a standuser has him.”

Kakyoin turns wide eyes to Aya, who immediately meets his gaze, her expression grim.

“...I’m gonna have to ask for a raincheck on that appointment,” Kakyoin says, and Aya nods.

“I’ll ask around with my customers if you think that’d help?” She asks, Josuke and Okuyasu both finally seem to notice her then, both jumping.

“Uh-” Josuke starts, gaze darting to Kakyoin, and Kakyoin just shakes his head.

“This is my friend, Tsuji Aya,” Kakyoin quickly introduces, before he turns back to Aya. “And- could you? Koichi’s a small kid, silver hair, usually in a green uniform, uh-”

“Blue eyes!” Okuyasu adds while Josuke contributes, “Round nose!”

Aya nods. “I’ll be sure to ask my appointees today if they’ve seen anyone matching that description.”

“Thank you,” Kakyoin says, staring intently at her. She just shakes her head, smiling slightly.

“Go, save your kid,” She says, and Kakyoin huffs at the claim of Koichi being his in any way, before he turns to Josuke and Okuyasu, brows furrowed and mouth set in a tight frown.

“Alright, let’s go.”

On the way to Josuke’s house, Josuke and Okuyasu had filled Kakyoin in -- some girl in an adjacent class got a crush on Koichi and didn’t know how to handle his rejection. Unfortunately, she was more than just some girl, she was a standuser, and an emotionally unstable one at that.

“We tried one last time to get her to leave Koichi alone by just talking shit about him in front of her,” Josuke says, face pinched in regret, “but all that did was put him in danger-”

“Hey, no,” Kakyoin cuts off, abruptly ceasing his forward motion, coming to a stop and turning to face Josuke. Josuke’s head is hanging down, shame and fear tensing his body, invisible twines cutting into him. “You didn’t do this. It was her decision to kidnap, not yours. You’re not at fault.”

“But-” Josuke starts but Kakyoin shakes his head.

“No buts,” He says, staring intently at Josuke, bumping his wheel against his shoe, “you can’t help Koichi if you’re acting like you’re his captor and not his rescuer.”

Josuke blinks, pausing at that, and Kakyoin turns back around and continues heading to Josuke’s house.

“Is your mom home?” Kakyoin calls over his shoulder, jerking Josuke out of his thoughts.

“Uh- no, she’s at work right n-”

“Great,” Kakyoin says before he rolls up Josuke’s porch and lets himself in. Okuyasu and Josuke scramble to catch up.

Once they’re all inside, Josuke huffs as he closes the door, shaking his head. “Thanks for just letting yourself in,”

“Door was open,” Kakyoin shoots back, shrugging.

Josuke chuckles before sighing, any mirth fading as fast as it came. Josuke pads to his living room, Okuyasu and Kakyoin exchanging worried glances before following.

Josuke flops onto the sofa, eyes downcast, staring at the coffee table. Okuyasu quietly pads over and sits next to him, their knees touching.

Kakyoin rolls over to the coffee table, flipping his sunglasses to rest on the top of his head.

“Alright, first things first,” He glances at Josuke again, who’s still staring dejectedly at the coffee table, “none of this is your fault.”

Okuyasu hums, his own gaze dropping then, while Josuke grits his teeth. “But it was my idea to try and chase her off by making Koichi seem unreliable, and now-”

“No,” Kakyoin cuts in, rolling up to Josuke and placing his hands on his shoulders. Josuke blinks, looking up to meet Kakyoin’s gaze. “Stop. You were trying to help your friend. She, on the other hand, is trying to control him, it sounds like.” Kakyoin sighs, dropping one hand from Josuke’s shoulders to run a hand through his hair. “Based on what you said about her...infatuation, she probably would’ve done this either way. It’s not on you, okay?”

Josuke swallows before he gives the tiniest of nods. Kakyoin nods himself then, and wheels back.

“Alright, then. Next: do either of you have any ideas on where she could’ve taken him?”

Josuke hums, while Okuyasu fidgets with his hands, tapping his thumbnails against each other nervously.

“Well,” Josuke starts, shifting in his seat so he’s leaning more against Okuyasu, their shoulders brushing, “she has to be somewhere out of the way, or else Koichi could’ve done something with Echoes at this point...right?”

Kakyoin hums, nodding. “Good thinking. Any idea on where that might be? Where does this girl live, anyway? Do you think she could’ve just taken him to her house?”

Josuke sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t know...she’s in the other first-year class.” He frowns. “Also, wouldn’t her family notice if she brought him to her house?”

Kakyoin hums. “Wouldn’t her family notice if she was gone from the property?”

Josuke pauses then. Okuyasu shifts uncomfortably. “...What if her family just doesn’t care?” Okuyasu eventually asks, voice gravelly.

Kakyion tilts his head, considering. “I guess that’s the likely situation, then. Good thinking, Okuyasu.”

Okuyasu blinks, a surprised flush dusting his cheeks, before he ducks his head.

“Anyway,” Kakyoin says, turning to Josuke. “So somewhere out of the way? Is there any building in Morioh that fits that bill?”

“Uh,” Josuke blinks, before he stands up, padding across the room to a desk near the corner -- probably his mother’s -- and rummaging around for a moment, before returning with a large, rolled paper.

Josuke sets it down on the coffee table and unfurls it, revealing it to be a detailed map of Morioh -- last updated in 1997, Kakyoin sees stamped in the corner. Should still be relevant, then. Good.

Josuke taps at the paper with his finger, sitting back down as he does. “If we’re looking for an out-of-the-way, abandoned building…” Josuke murmurs, eyes scanning over the edges of the town. Okuyasu leans his head on Josuke’s shoulder, also scanning the map, brows furrowed as he tries to find something that could fit the description. “It would have to be something near the undeveloped fields, right?”

Kakyoin hums, rolling over to the side of the coffee table so he’s not looking at the map upside down but rather to the side, when the phone suddenly rings.

Josuke’s head jerks up as the shrill ring echoes through the house, making Okuyasu jump.

“Do you want me to get that?” Kakyoin asks. “You know, since I’m already up.” He snickers at his own joke.

“Uh,” Josuke and Okuyasu exchange glances. “Sure...I don’t think it should be my mom.”

Kakyoin rolls over to the phone, which was stationed in the hallway next to the entryway to the kitchen. He picks it up, greeting, “This is the Higashikata household.”

...Nothing. No voice comes through the phone.

Kakyoin’s brow furrows and he presses the speaker closer to his ear. Still, no voice, not even a muffled one; the only thing he heard was what sounded like distant ocean waves…

“Hello?” Kakyoin prompts again. Okuyasu and Josuke join him near the phone then, padding down the hallway to meet him.

Still only waves…

“Who is it?” Josuke asks, face pinched in anxiety. “...Is it Koichi’s parents again?”

Koichi-!

Kakyoin gasps, before slamming the phone back down and rushing down the hallway once more, Okuyasu and Josuke jumping out of his way.

“Mr. Kakyoin-!?”

“I think that was Koichi,” Kakyoin shoots back, and immediately, he can hear the footfalls of Okuyasu and Josuke following after him.

“Wha- really?! What’d he say?!” Okuyasu asks as he and Josuke skid to a stop behind Kakyoin, who has stationed himself at the map again, eyes tracing over the coast of Morioh.

“Nothing,” Kakyoin huffs, “but he let his environment speak for him; I heard waves.”

Josuke blinks, eyes widening, before he lurches across Kakyoin’s shoulder, staring at the map. “So he’s near the ocean?”

“Yeah,” Kakyoin confirms. “I don’t think he’s right on the coast, but he’s very close.”

“Oh, shit,” Okuyasu breathes while Josuke points to a road that edges near a cliff on the coast of Morioh.

“Here, then,” Josuke says, voice solid and steady with certainty, “he has to be here, then. These are vacation homes that aren’t used for most of the year -- it’s the perfect place to be keeping someone hostage!”

Kakyoin breathes out. “Alright. I’ll go get him, then.”

“What?!” Josuke cries, jerking back from Kakyoin as if he was burned.

Kakyoin’s brow furrows. “What?”

“Okuyasu and I are coming with you,” Josuke starts firmly, staring Kakyoin right in the face. Kakyoin frowns.

“Josuke…”

“No! We- I got him into this mess, I’m getting him out of it!” Josuke snaps, glaring at Kakyoin.

Kakyoin blinks. Once again, blue fire burns in the irises of Josuke’s eyes, only brighter when surrounded by the shadow caused by Josuke’s scowl. It reminds Kakyoin of how Jotaro looked before he knocked him unconscious when they first met. It really was a Joestar trademark, huh… Kakyoin shakes his head, snapping himself out of it. “Josuke, you’re- it’s dangerous-”

“He’s my friend!” Josuke snarls. Okuyasu grips his shoulder and Josuke’s eyes close, a shudder running through him. “He’s my friend,” He repeats. “I have a right to save my friend. ”

Kakyoin is only just able to suppress a wince, glancing down, the words too similar to ones Kakyoin himself had spoken recently. A right to know. A right to help. “...Fine,” He sighs, running a hand through his bangs. “But you have to promise to let me deal with the fighting. You’re a healer, Josuke, so you only need to focus on Koichi and his wellbeing, alright?”

Josuke blinks, as if surprised, before nodding vigorously.

Kakyoin turns his gaze to Okuyasu then, who straightens at the attention. “Okuyasu, make sure Josuke doesn’t forget that. Take care of him for me.”

Okuyasu nods, face serious, while Josuke scoffs, but says nothing. “You got it, Mr. Kakyoin!”

Kakyoin ducks his head, shaking off his smile -- Okuyasu was just so earnest...he really was the best of Polnareff and Joseph. “Alright,” He sighs, looking up once more, “Let’s go.”

Kakyoin grumbles as he hands Josuke his folded wheelchair, staring daggers at the curb as he climbs out of the taxi Josuke had called. This is why I just stick with buses…

Climbing uneasily to his feet, Kakyoin grimaces as his lower back immediately protests at having to balance his weight, pain shooting up the bit of spine he had that still actually worked.

Josuke fumbles with the wheelchair before Okuyasu helps him pull it open, while Kakyoin closes his door and pays the fare, taking shaky steps towards the two boys, his spine’s cries getting louder and louder with every footfall.

“Got it!” Josuke exclaims as the wheelchair folds out, and Okuyasu helps him to fully lock it open. The two present Kakyoin with it, smiling proudly.

Kakyoin slumps into his chair, trying to stamp out the flames of irritation in his chest. “Thanks,” He grunts. Before Josuke or Okuyasu can respond, though, Kakyoin shakes his head, lifting his gaze to the line of houses on top of the hill. “So we think Koichi is somewhere there?”

Josuke’s smile slides off his face, replaced with furrowed brows and a tight frown. “Yeah. This is the only- if the person on the phone really was Koichi giving us a hint to where he is, this is the only place he could be.”

Kakyoin nods, before gesturing to the path up the hill, a packed road of dirt surrounded on all sides with bright green grass dotted with flowers, blowing in the wind. “Alright. Let’s get him out of here.”

Josuke nods his agreement, expression darkening, and he begins marching up the hill, Okuyasu right by his side. Josuke’s hands are balled into fists, but when Okuyasu’s shoulder brushes his, Josuke lets them fall lax, if only a bit. Both their shoulders stay tense, though.

Kakyoin squints, but says nothing, rolling after them, Hierophant poking a wary tentacle out just in case.

Hierophant casually knocks away rocks in the way of Kakyoin’s wheels as they travel up, Kakyoin keeping an eye on Josuke and Okuyasu, and an ear out for any disturbance. It’s been long enough that Koichi probably wasn’t having Echoes call for help listlessly anymore, if he ever had it broadcasting like that in the first place, but that didn’t mean Koichi wouldn’t be making any noise at all…

But no noise came. It was eerily quiet, save for the quiet lapping of the sea against the cliffside — in hindsight, that was definitely what he heard over the phone — and the crunch of dirt underneath Kakyoin’s wheelchair and Okuyasu and Josuke’s footsteps. Kakyoin jerks his eyes to the sides of the path, Hierophant’s tentacles thinning out and spreading forward, acting as a sort of motion detector for ten meters around Kakyoin, encompassing Josuke and Okuyasu as they do.

“Mr. Kakyoin?” Josuke calls back, steps faltering, and Kakyoin waves a hand.

“It’s nothing, don’t mind Hierophant. I’m just setting up a kind of sensor in case she’s planning on ambushing us.”

Josuke and Okuyasu blink. “Oh,” Says Josuke.

“That’s really smart,” Okuyasu comments and Kakyoin bites back a small smile at the compliment, shaking his head. Since when did earning a teenager’s admiration matter to him?

All well, Kakyoin thinks to himself, aggressively choking out the part of him that’s snarking about patheticness or something of the sort.

They reach a plateau near the top of the hill, and Josuke and Okuyasu come to a stop. Kakyoin rolls up beside them and frowns, keeping Hierophant’s barrier up as a precaution.

The jut of even ground seems to be a center or courtyard of some sort for the vacation homes; they stretch out from it like a forest around a clearing.

“Great,” Kakyoin mutters, while Josuke just sets his jaw and marches in one direction.

“Come on,” He calls over his shoulder, shooting a glance at Okuyasu and Kakyoin. “We’re not gonna find him by just standing and staring.”

Kakyoin huffs. “Not standing, Josuke.”

Before Josuke can decide whether to laugh at that or not, though, he continues.

“Searching aimlessly isn’t effective, especially not all together. With Hierophant’s range, I can search through at least three houses at once. You and Okuyasu tag together and search through others.” Kakyoin peers at Josuke over his glasses, tone flat as he says, “if anything -- and I do mean anything -- happens, call for me immediately. Got it?”

Josuke’s eyes narrow before he ducks his head and sighs, nodding. Okuyasu also nods his agreement, fingering one of his pins nervously.

“We don’t have a lot of info,” Okuyasu starts, “but we think Yukako’s stand also has some range. She couldn’t have kidnapped Koichi so easily without it.”

Kakyoin nods. “I’ll keep that in mind. You two do too.”

Josuke nods before he trots down the road, hands in his pockets, but Crazy Diamond fading into view beside him, drifting along at its user’s pace.

Kakyoin hums, before turning to Okuyasu. “Watch over him,” He murmurs. Okuyasu nods, taking a deep breath before following his friend.

Kakyoin turns to the opposite row of houses, taking a deep breath of his own. “Damn, I hope she hasn’t killed him…” Hierophant taps at his arm placatingly. Kakyoin just sets his jaw and gets to work.

Hierophant’s tendrils worm out from him, creeping up to the porches of the three vacation homes closest to Kakyoin. The ones closest to the courtyard are only single-story, making them an easy search, especially considering how they’re all almost carbon copies of the same floor plan.

Kakyoin feels sensation crawl up his arms, from his fingertips to his shoulders, as Hierophant searches, his muscles tensing like he’s stretching out his arms himself. Kakyoin just hums, closing his eyes, and viewing the world with Hierophant’s gaze.

Hierophant does not see like humans do; he seems to have some mix of thermal vision, like a snake’s eyes, with a lack of the ability to see color -- instead, that had seemingly been traded for perfect night vision, making it rather easy to see in the dark, empty houses.

But there’s no point; there’s no Koichi inside the first three houses. Kakyoin frowns and opens his eyes again, blinking as the bright green of grass rushes to shine at him, ready to continue being appreciated by eyes that can see it.

He’s not surprised Koichi isn’t in the first row, but it is worrying. Every second that passes weighs on Kakyoin, like someone pushing down on his shoulders more and more with each tick of the clock. For the longer a kidnapped person is missing, the more likely it is they’re dead, especially if they’ve been taken to a new location from the original…

Kakyoin shakes his head, rolling to the next bout of houses. No. He’s not dead. He’s a standuser and I’ve been teaching him how to best put that to use. He may be nervous, and timid, but he has a stand for a reason, dammit. He’s strong. He has to be...

As Kakyoin rolls past a line of houses, he glances up, and freezes. There, on the furthest spot from the courtyard, nearest to the cliffside, a two-story house is covered in hair — or so it looks — a shimmering blue glow indicative of a stand surrounding the strands, becoming a giant neon sign that gives the standuser’s location.

Well, having hair for a stand would certainly give her range, Kakyoin thinks distantly, connecting what the hell he was seeing to what Okuyasu had warned him about earlier, before he turns -- still keeping one eye on the hair -- and yells, “Josuke! Okuyasu! I think I’ve found him!”

“What?” He can hear Josuke yelp, before the thundering footsteps of him and Okuyasu come barreling out of an adjacent house, Okuyasu slamming the door shut as Josuke leaps off the porch, sprinting up to Kakyoin. “Where? Where?!”

Kakyoin just points, and Josuke freezes, eyes widening, while Okuyasu’s jaw drops just a bit. 

“What the fuck?”

Kakyoin covers his snort with a cough. Josuke jerks forward, but Kakyoin stops him with a hand around his wrist.

“What?” Josuke snaps, turning to glare at Kakyoin. “Koichi’s right-”

“Just remember that I’m the one going after the standuser,” Kakyoin murmurs, “Koichi needs you to focus on him, not her. Got it?”

Josuke blinks, huffs, and scuffs his shoe on the dirt before he jerkily nods his head. “Yes, fine, whatever, let’s just go-”

Kakyoin raises his brow and lets go of Josuke’s wrist, causing him to stumble forward. The teenager shoots Kakyoin a dirty look, eyes narrowed, unamused, but Okuyasu just grabs Josuke’s hand and takes off, saying “Come on Josuke, Koichi needs us!”

Kakyoin only gets to see the beginning of Josuke’s surprised expression before he’s jolted forward, and he shakes his head before following, Hierophant helping him with his pace in order to catch up with the boys.

They’ve almost crested the hill when they hear a scream -- it’s...actually hard to tell whether it came from Koichi or the girl, but it sounds utterly panicked, and it’s coming from over the side of the cliff. Kakyoin’s heart drops to his stomach and Hierophant shoots him forward in his wheelchair.

No- he’s just a kid- no-

But when Kakyoin, Josuke, and Okuyasu reach the top, they only see Koichi, shaking but standing tall, his back turned to them as he faces the cliffside, Echoes in the air beside his head, tail curled defensively.

Shit...did he…? Kakyoin hadn’t pegged Koichi as being resolved enough to kill anyone, but considering the situation…

There’s a sudden rippling of sound, though, a high-pitched broing like one hears in cartoons, and Kakyoin blinks when the figure of a girl comes bouncing back up from over the cliff face, landing in a heap on its edge, her long hair trailing after her like a wisp of smoke. Instead of the black it was earlier, it’s now white -- Kakyoin wonders if maybe her hair changes color depending on whether she’s using its stand capabilities or not…?

“KOICHI!” Okuyasu yells after a few beats of shocked silence, he and Josuke sprinting toward their friend. Koichi jumps, sharply turning to face his friends, features relaxing into pure relief.

“Okuyasu! Josuke!” Koichi responds in turn, leaving behind the girl and running for his friends. Kakyoin eyes them as he creeps closer, gaze darting toward the girl, who’s sitting up, running a hand through her hair slowly as she stares after Koichi.

She’s smiling, oddly enough, but the tip of her nose is slowly turning red, her eyes filling with tears, and Kakyoin just sighs and braces himself for another evening full of unstable teenager. What was in the water in Morioh?

Koichi reaches his friends and they immediately pull him into a hug, Josuke completely engulfing Koichi in his arms, Okuyasu wrapping his own arms around them both, keeping them as close as possible. Kakyoin can hear the echoes of their exclamations, but not the specifics of them, their voices bouncing joyfully like frogs in a pond.

The girl sits up more fully, slowly rising to her knees, causing Josuke to yelp. Okuyasu jerks his gaze towards Kakyoin, who gestures to Get out of here; I’ve got the girl.

Okuyasu seems to get the message; he immediately pulls Josuke and Koichi away, back towards the hill and the courtyard entrance, and they go without much more prompting.

Josuke looks back to lock eyes with Kakyoin, and he just waves a hand again. I’ve got this.

Josuke simply gives him a thumbs-up and bolts, nearly carrying Koichi to make sure he’s not left behind by his friends’ larger strides, and down the hill they disappear. Kakyoin shakes his head, smiling to himself, before turning back to the girl — who’s had to have seen him by now, but she refuses to acknowledge him, instead just staring wistfully after the boys.

Kakyoin rolls forward toward her. She ignores him still; instead, her smile wobbles as the first tear finally overfills and traces down her cheek. She finally ducks her head, wiping the track, but another soon replaces it.

She fingers her hair with the other hand, staring at the white curtain around her face, before burying her face into her hands.

When he’s about four meters away, Kakyoin stops. She’s sniffling and shaking a little, but despite her obvious distress, she doesn’t seem like she will attack.

“Kid-” Kakyoin says, but she interrupts.

“Koichi m-mentioned you,” She says quietly, voice as shaky as her body. “S-said his friends would find him and his mentor would deal with me when they did.”

She looks up, violet eyes still watery, but also steeled. Kakyoin blinks; they almost remind him of...well, his own eyes.

“Am I going to jail or something like that?” She asks, keeping her gaze steady. Kakyoin will give her credit for that.

“That depends,” Kakyoin says honestly. She blinks, then nods, before dropping her gaze, staring down at her hair again. She cups a handful of strands, gingerly running her fingers through them.

Kakyoin hesitates, but he is curious, and she’s certainly not continuing the conversation without a prompt, so he asks, “Wasn’t your hair black before?”

Her nostrils flare as she inhales harshly, gaze darting up to Kakyoin, now looking not unlike a wild animal. Kakyoin almost feels the urge to roll back a bit, but Hierophant creeps out instead, showing off his own silent threat display.

She eyes the tentacles that have manifested -- she doesn’t seem surprised, Kakyoin notes. Koichi must’ve mentioned something about Hierophant then…

“Yes,” She finally says, voice cracked and angry like a pottery project gone wrong, and she looks down to the strands in her hands again. “It was.” She sounds so dejected that it can’t be a common occurrence -- so not a change due to her not using her stand ability, then.

Kakyoin hums. Flashes of Aya’s salon shoot through his mind, particularly the back of her store, where lines of hair products, including dyes, were shelved.

Kakyoin huffs. It’ll be easier to get her to talk if she trusts me a little, Kakyoin reasons with himself, and white hair will be very easy to dye, especially to such a dark color.. .

“Come on, kid,” Kakyoin sighs, and the girl looks up through her hair, eyes narrowed. “Let’s get your hair fixed, then.”

She blinks, surprised, before her eyes narrow in suspicion again, strands beginning to float menacingly around her head. She reminds him of Medusa -- a younger, more volatile version of the gorgon, but Medusa all the same.

“Why would you help me?” She seethes, fingers curling against the dirt she sits upon. “I- I hurt-” Her voice cracks, and she grits her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut, shoulders tensing. “I hurt one of your charges,” She finishes, growling.

Kakyoin sighs, working his jaw for a moment, before he says, “Well...yes, you did.” Her eyes open and she glares at Kakyoin, but before she can say anything, Kakyoin continues with, “But like I said, punishment for that will depend on a few circumstances, so I’ll need you to talk to me.” Kakyoin looks at her over the rim of his sunglasses, brow raised. “Are you saying you’re okay to talk now, or do you want to clean up a little first?”

The girl blinks, glaring lifting, but her shoulders still tensed, fists still curled, hair still wavering around her head -- it’s less threatening now though, no longer like snakes but more like seagrass drifting in the ocean currents.

Kakyoin doesn’t press her. Instead, he just crosses his arms and looks out across the cliff face, curious. He can just barely see jagged rocks at the bottom of the cliff, sticking out of the ocean like fingers, and he frowns.

The girl stays silent as he observes. Kakyoin shoots a glance toward her. How did she bounce back up onto the cliff?

He doesn’t ask -- not yet, anyway. Asking her about a fight that clearly rattled her so soon after it happened isn’t going to win him any favors -- and if she happens to know anything about Red Hot Chili Pepper, Kakyoin is going to have to earn said favor.

Finally, she slowly rises to her feet, her shoes squelching against the grass as she stands. Her hair hangs around her face, obscuring her, but after a moment, she tosses back the shield, a tight grimace on her face.

“Fine,” She says finally. Kakyoin just nods and leads the way.

Chapter Text

The girl trails behind him, wringing some strands of her hair, before jerking them away as if she was burned when she catches sight of their color again. Kakyoin frowns.

She keeps doing it; unconsciously her hands reach up, her gaze trained on the ground, gripping onto her hair like a lifeline, before the strand falls into view again as a result of the tugging and she throws it back, as if it was seaweed tangled around her fingers and not her own hair.

By the third time, they’re still not down the hill, and Kakyoin’s had enough. “Do you want to borrow my scarf?”

The girl jerks her gaze up, glaring. “What?” She asks icily.

Kakyoin ignores the urge to roll his eyes. Teenagers… “Do you want to borrow my scarf?” Kakyoin repeats instead. “To cover your hair? Because we’re going to have to go back into town to get the dye.”

Blood drains from the girl’s face, the realization visibly slamming into her as her knees buckle, but stay sturdy underneath her. Strands find their way into her fingers again, being sloppily and quickly combed through.

Kakyoin waits for her. Eventually, she swallows before lowering her head.

“...Alright,” She says hoarsely. Kakyoin gives her his scarf.

She gingerly stares down at the fabric and Kakyoin suppresses a shiver from the new chill that presses itself against his bare neck. The girl glances at him one last time before wrapping it around her head carefully, tucking her hair under the folds of fabric.

When she’s done, she turns to face Kakyoin again. He nods, and they continue on.

She stays silent the whole time. Silent as Kakyoin calls a cab with the payphone Koichi must have used to call Josuke’s house, silent as they wait, silent as they get into the car. Kakyoin gives the address of Aya’s salon, and the girl slumps her head against the window, looking out blankly. The tears on her face have dried, but their tracks are still visible, flaking against her skin. Kakyoin doesn’t mention this.

What he says instead, is, “What’s your name anyway?”

The girl stays silent, still staring out at the scenery of her town that’s passing them by, and Kakyoin almost thinks she must not have heard him when she says, “Didn’t J...Josuke and the other mention it?”

Kakyoin squints at her tone -- he’s not sure if she’s disdained, or jealous, or defeated -- before answering, “Sure...but you have to understand, details like names get lost when they’re followed by ‘kidnapped someone else.’”

The girl’s face sours and Kakyoin almost regrets the comment, but she squeezes her eyes shut and sighs, turning from the window to face him.

“...Yamagishi,” She says softly, tone low, “Yamagishi Yukako.”

Kakyoin hums, nodding. “Well, Miss Yamagishi, I wish we were meeting under different circumstances.”

She frowns, eyes narrowing, but before she can say anything else, Kakyoin continues.

“But I’m happy to meet you all the same.”

She blinks, pausing, brows furrowing half out of confusion rather than solely irritation. “What?”

Kakyoin hums, letting his head thump back against the seat. “I could never begrudge meeting another standuser,” Kakyoin says, shrugging. “Not one that’s a kid, at least.”

Yukako stares at Kakyoin, and her gaze itches under Kakyoin’s skin, but he doesn’t move from under it, letting it sink in.

Finally, Yukako turns her head, exhaling. Kakyoin lets out a breath of his own, glancing out his window himself.

The cab takes a few more turns, rocking its passengers with the stop-and-go among stoplights and crosswalks, before rolling to a true halt, Kakyoin distantly hearing the crunch of asphalt under the roll of the tires.

“Um,” The cab driver turns, glancing at Kakyoin from the window of the divider, “we’re here, sir.”

Kakyoin nods, unbuckling, but Yukako stays still, still leaning against the side of her door. Kakyoin thinks she must’ve dozed off.

“Hey, Yamagishi?”

Yukako jerks, eyes darting to him, before her face smooths out, cold and flat like cement. She ducks her head and opens the door, getting out of the car. Kakyoin hums, eyes narrowing, before he turns to pay the fare.

“Also,” The cab driver pipes up again as Kakyoin sets his folded up wheelchair beside the open car door, starting to unfold it, “Do you need help with that, sir-?”

“No, it’s fine,” Kakyoin says, flashing a smile that’s all teeth toward the driver, before dropping the unfolded wheelchair to the ground and hopping out of the car, easily sliding into it.

The driver blinks at Kakyoin through the passenger-seat window. Kakyoin raises a brow and he shrugs, turning back to the road. Kakyoin shuts his door a little too hard, turning to Yukako.

“Alright kid,” Kakyoin sighs, “let’s get this done.”

Yukako’s nose wrinkles over being called “kid,” but she says nothing.

He says nothing else either; he simply rolls up to the door of Aya’s salon and pulls it open, Hierophant keeping it pinned as he heads inside, Yukako hesitantly following, footsteps slow, bouncing on the balls of her feet like she isn’t sure if she should turn around with every new step forward she takes.

As the door falls shut behind Yukako, Kakyoin can hear Aya call out, “Just a minute!” from further inside the shop. Kakyoin glances around, seeing a patron staring down at a tube of lipstick as she sits under a hairdryer, a small humming indicative of it being on.

She doesn’t bother looking up at Kakyoin or Yukako, too enraptured by the lipstick, but Yukako, upon seeing her, jerks back behind Kakyoin, as if hiding from view. Kakyoin frowns, glancing at her, but Yukako glares at him, huddling underneath his scarf. Kakyoin decides not to ask.

“How can I- Oh! Kakyoin!” Aya pops her head out from the back, features relaxing upon seeing him. Kakyoin smiles back, feeling his shoulders relax a bit.

“Miss Tsuji,” Kakyoin greets as she pads over. Aya chuckles, before her gaze trails to Yukako, and she pauses in her steps, about a meter from the pair.

“Who’s this?” Aya asks, shooting a glance back at Kakyoin. He catches her silent question: Is this Koichi…?

Kakyoin shakes his head and Aya’s brows furrow. “This...this is Yamagishi.”

Aya hums, gaze straying on Yukako. Yukako stares down at the floor, eyes bearing into it like if she stared hard enough, she could tear the linoleum apart with just her gaze. Aya turns back to Kakyoin, raising a brow.

Is she related to the Koichi incident?

Kakyoin bobs his head in a nod once, and Aya hums, eyes narrowing, turning a steely, but thoughtful, gaze to Yukako.

Yukako stiffens under the gaze, but she tilts her chin up to meet it from under Kakyoin’s scarf. Aya hums, scanning Yukako’s face -- for what, Kakyoin can’t tell. He can’t tell if Aya finds it or not, either; after keeping an even gaze with Yukako, brow slightly furrowed, she turns back to Kakyoin.

“So, what happened?”

Kakyoin could almost chuckle; it’s a fair enough question. “We found Koichi. He’s safe.”

Aya hums while Yukako’s head jerks down, arms crossing after she slides the scarf down around her face more. “That’s good, especially because none of my patrons had seen him when I asked.”

Kakyoin shakes his head. “Well, thanks anyway for asking around. Really.” He locks eyes with Aya, and she smiles, standing a little straighter.

“‘Course. What brings you back, though? And with Yamagishi, rather than...er, what was your friend’s son’s name again?” Aya cringes, but Kakyoin just laughs.

“His name’s Josuke. And, er,” Kakyoin turns to Yukako then, who takes a deep breath. “...Miss Yamagishi was wondering if you could dye her hair.”

Aya raises a brow at Kakyoin, and Kakyoin just shrugs at her. She hums, tapping a finger to her chin, before shrugging. “I don’t see why not. I make sure to leave room for walk-ins in-between my scheduled appointments…”

Aya glances at her technically-current patient as the dryer easily whirs to a stop, blanketing the shop in static as the background noise abruptly ceases.

The woman sitting under it jumps as if she wasn’t expecting it to stop so soon, before she glances at Aya.

“Take a seat at one of the stations and I’ll be with you in a minute,” Aya instructs before she turns on her heel to her patient, padding toward her.

Kakyoin turns to Yukako, who hasn’t moved from her spot between him and the door. “Well, let’s find a good seat.”

Yukako purses her lips but says nothing. Kakyoin motions over to the back of the store, where the haircut stations are lined, and Yukako reluctantly steps away from the doors and towards a chair.

Yukako gingerly takes a seat, pressing against the leather of it with her palm as if testing to see if it’ll bite her. After getting enough reassurance that the chair will not attack her, Yukako settles into it, still stiff, but accepting of her position.

Kakyoin stays in his wheelchair by her side, resting his head on his palm. He watches as Aya finishes up with her customer, sliding the dryer off and leading her to the counter to pay, movements refined and graceful, like a cheetah or other lithe, wild cat.

“Is she a friend of yours?” Yukako murmurs, snapping Kakyoin out of his thoughts.

“Hm? Oh, Miss Tsuji? Yeah, we’re friends.” I think. Kakyoin pauses, frowning slightly. I guess I still don’t know when it crosses from friendly strangers to friends, though…

Yukako fidgets, nodding distantly. “Um...so is this going to be discounted, or…?”

Kakyoin blinks, the intention behind her previous question becoming clear to him now. “Oh, no, Miss Tsuji- I don’t know her nearly well enough to just ask for a price reduction like that.”

Yukako blinks, her gaze dropping. “Oh.”

She fidgets again, fingering his scarf. “Um. How much do you think this will be, then?”

“Oh!” Kakyoin realizes, before abruptly shaking his head. “No, no. I’m admittedly not the nicest person in the world, but I’m not gonna make you pay for an entire dye job all by yourself. It’s on me.”

Yukako’s lips press into a line, her face twitching slightly. “Ah. Right. To win my favor or whatever you said.”

Kakyoin nods. Yukako sighs, tension leaving her shoulders with the breath.

“Well, at least you’re honest,” She murmurs. Kakyoin says nothing, but he does feel the corners of his lips perk up slightly in an amused smirk.

The sound of the door opening draws Kakyoin’s attention, and he wheels around to see Aya waving goodbye to her patron.

“Come again soon, tell me how it goes!” He can hear her call, before she turns on her heel, flashing a smile at Kakyoin. She inclines her head slightly, and Kakyoin takes the hint.

“Be back, Yamagishi,” Kakyoin says absent-mindedly as he begins rolling over to Aya. If Yukako says anything in response, Kakyoin doesn’t hear it.

“So,” Aya starts as he approaches, parking his wheelchair a few feet away from her, “what’s exactly going on? Who’s Yamagishi and what does she have to do with Koichi?”

Kakyoin sighs, shooting a glance at Yukako. She’s staring dazedly at the mirror, her reflection showing off a tight expression, her brows furrowed and eyes wide as she pulls a strand of snow-white hair loose from the scarf around her head.

“Koichi’s okay, like I said,” Kakyoin murmurs. “Josuke has him right now. He’s safe and uninjured.”

Kakyoin glances back at Yukako before turning to Aya again, who’s gazing at him with a stern furrow between her brows, blue eyes glinting off the pinkish-yellow lights of her salon.

“Yamagishi...is the one who kidnapped him,” Kakyoin murmurs, and Aya reels back, blinking.

“She what?”

Kakyoin glances at Yukako -- still focused on her hair, thankfully, and not on their conversation -- before nodding. “She’s...got some issues, I think. And also a stand. So...”

“You think? Are you going to get the- the agency you mentioned that has a stand division to deal with her?” Aya asks before she frowns. “Are you staging an arrest at my salon, Kakyoin Noriaki?”

Kakyoin chokes, smothering his laughter. Now’s not the time. “No! That-” Kakyoin snorts then, biting the inside of his cheek to stop more from coming out. “That would be- so awful of me.”

Aya raises a brow and Kakyoin shakes his head.

“No, I’m not staging an arrest. I’m just trying to get more information out of her; the Speedwagon Foundation is kinda...iffy on arrests in general, let alone ones involving minors overseas. They’re not a law enforcement agency and they don’t typically try to be unless the person is blatantly a danger.” The and a standuser goes unsaid, but Aya seems to understand, brows unfurrowing the slightest bit.

Aya hums, frowning. “I see…”

Kakyoin just shakes his head. “So, in light of getting that information, I’m trying to earn her favor with...this.” Aya snorts, and Kakyoin realizes belatedly what she might have assumed. “I mean- not because she’s a teenage girl, but because something happened with her hair -- it’s her stand ability, so when she was using it to try and keep Koichi captive, he must’ve done something to it.”

Aya blinks, curiosity making her face more open, shoulders relaxing. “Hair for a stand, huh?”

Kakyoin nods, and Aya hums, turning to look at Yukako from over her shoulder. Yukako meets her gaze from the mirror, and Aya hums again.

“Alright,” Aya says, turning on her heel. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Kakyoin lets out a breath. “Thank you,” He says quietly.

Aya shoots one of her sharp, clever smiles at him before heading over to Yukako, Kakyoin rolling after her.

“Yamagishi, was it?” Aya asks as she saddles up behind Yukako, straightening her chair in front of the mirror. Yukako stiffens, her hands clenching into fists, before she nods. “Well, Miss Yamagishi, what can I do for you today?”

Yukako darts her gaze to Kakyoin, who nods at her. She hesitates for a beat longer, before she swallows and steels her gaze, face flattening in preparation for any reaction. She unwraps the scarf from around her head and lets her long, curly white hair fall in shreds of ribbon around her frame.

Aya says nothing, simply scanning over the strands -- Kakyoin’s warning that something has happened to her hair seems to have prepared her for something like this, as she doesn’t seem shocked.

Aya picks up a brush from the station, circling Yukako as she does. Yukako takes a deep breath.

“Dye it black. Please.”

Her voice is soft, but it’s even and steady. Aya nods. “Pretty simple. I can definitely do that for you.”

She turns to the back of the salon, heading for the room she was inside of earlier when Kakyoin and Yukako had come in. She’s only gone for a second before she returns, this time with a box of dye in her hand.

Setting it down on the top of the station, Aya digs around in the drawers before pulling out a bowl and a brush with tan bristles. Kakyoin wheels back a bit, if only to give her room to do her craft. Yukako locks eyes with him again through the mirror, and Kakyoin gives her a half-hearted thumbs up. She huffs, settling in her seat.

Aya hums as she pulls open the box of dye, eyeing Yukako’s hair as she does. “Did you want to dye the whole thing?” She asks.

Yukako blinks, before nodding vigorously. “I’m- yes. All of it, black.”

Aya hums, nodding, glancing down at her box of dye. “Probably gonna need a couple more of these in that case,” She murmurs.

“I can go grab some more boxes,” Kakyoin offers, fingers twitching at the chance to do something other than sitting and watching.

Aya tsks. “...Yeah, okay. Second shelf on the left is where the dyes are.”

Kakyoin hums his understanding before wheeling away. Yukako catches his gaze again, and Kakyoin just gives her a nod. Yukako swallows and eyes Aya as she pulls on a pair of gloves -- not rubber, but a stronger material than latex it seems -- and dumps out the dye into the bowl.

Kakyoin rolls into the back room, the smell of shampoos and nail polish colliding and hitting his sinuses full force. Kakyoin coughs, overwhelmed at the strength of the smells, before he shakes his head and swallows, wheeling inside.

As Aya directed, the second shelf on the left wall of the backroom is chock-full of dyes of various colors, ranging from natural shades like brown, blonde, and ginger, to more colorful ones like green, blue, and bright red. Kakyoin almost winces upon seeing the red boxes, flashbacks of his own messily-done dye-jobs he’d attempted as a 15-year-old flashing in his head. Ugh…

Shaking his head, Kakyoin reaches out and grabs a few more black dye boxes, before he turns and wheels away, leaving the memories of his teenage self behind as he does.

When Kakyoin returns, the bowl Aya added the original box’s dye to now has other chemicals -- probably water, and maybe some sort of scalp soother. Yukako is also now wearing a sheet over her uniform, presumably to keep it safe from the dye, and hair clips are lined along Aya’s belt.

“Here,” Kakyoin says as he sets the boxes down on the station. Aya nods, humming her thanks, and Kakyoin rolls out of her way again.

Aya pours the extra dye into the bowl, leaving one box unopened on the workstation in case she needs more, before she mixes the extra dye with the previous contents.

Yukako is grimacing at the bowl, brows furrowing, and Kakyoin chuckles. Yukako narrows her eyes at him. “Have you never dyed your hair before, Yamagishi?” He asks.

Yukako’s expression falls into one of irritation, eyes narrowed and mouth in a small, but sharp, frown. Kakyoin puts up his hands in faux surrender.

Yukako huffs, eyes straying down. “No,” She eventually murmurs, “I haven’t.”

“Well,” Aya says as she finishes mixing the dye, leaving the bowl to pick up a brush and a handful of hair clips, “I’m honored to be your first dyer, then.”

Yukako hums, ducking her head to give Aya the best access to most of her hair. Aya clicks her tongue, staring down at what is, for all intents and purposes, her canvas, eyes darting about, calculating. Kakyoin sets his hand on his chin, watching.

“This might feel weird on your part, Miss Yamagishi, but don’t worry,” Aya warns before she begins brushing Yukako’s hair, flopping a top layer over her part.

Yukako stiffens, brows furrowing, but she doesn’t jerk away, allowing Aya to continue working. Aya sets about sectioning Yukako’s long and thick hair, pinning the strands with hair clips from her belt, humming as she does so. Kakyoin blinks; it sounds almost like the song Tonio kept humming…

Eventually, Yukako’s hair is all sectioned off, and she’s ready for the dye.

“Kakyoin,” Aya prompts. Kakyoin hums, straightening up, much to his lower back’s minor displeasure. “Can you hold the bowl for me? With this much hair, I wanna be able to focus only on the brush strokes.”

“Yeah,” Kakyoin hums, rolling over to grab the bowl of dye. It reeks of chemicals, like a mix between soap and paint, and Kakyoin wrinkles his nose before shaking his head, rolling back from the ledge.

“Thank you,” Aya says absent-mindedly as she dips the brush onto the bowl, moving to paint the dye into Yukako’s hair.

Yukako’s eye twitches, face crumpling in discomfort, but she stays still as Aya paints her hair. Aya goes back to humming, carefully padding the brush along Yukako’s hair, thoroughly coating every strand.

“So,” Kakyoin starts. Yukako locks her gaze unto him from the mirror. “Do you know anyone named Red Hot Chili Pepper?”

Yukako freezes, and Kakyoin’s eyes narrow. Aya pauses for only a moment before she continues painting the dye on, only this time, her humming has cut off. The room is silent except for the clicks of Aya’s heels against the tiled floor and the static of the brush bristles knocking against each other as they’re pressed into strands of hair.

Yukako blinks, before her brows furrow, eyes darting to Aya before returning to Kakyoin’s face. Her unspoken question is obvious: Really? In front of her?

“Miss Tsuji is, ah, ‘in-the-know’ on stands,” Kakyoin answers, “so anything you say can be said in front of her.”

Aya nods, dipping the brush back into the bowl. “It’s okay, Yamagishi. Just pretend I’m not here if you need to.”

Yukako swallows thickly, fingers digging into the armrest of her seat.

“We just want the truth,” Kakyoin tries to encourage. “If it makes you feel better, I doubt you’re going to get arrested regardless of your answer to this one question.”

Yukako breathes out, eyes narrowing, face twitching, before she shakes her head and closes her eyes.

“I don’t- I… I know of him. I don’t know him . Not...directly,” Yukako mutters. Kakyoin raises a brow. Yukako works her jaw from side to side, before saying, “Why does this matter? What does that have to do with K-” she chokes on her own words, gaze darting down, and she shuts her mouth for a moment, reworking her jaw once more. “...What does this have to do with...my situation?”

Kakyoin hums, leaning back in his seat. She had a telling reaction and she knew it. “Well, even if you won’t get arrested either way, if you can give me information on Red Hot Chili Pepper, any punishment would definitely be lightened.”

Yukako pauses, lips parting but no sound coming out. Her brows furrow, her jaw clenching. “Well. Like I said, I don’t know him directly. I only know he got his stand from the same person who gave me one.”

Kakyoin blinks, leaning forward. “ Gave you one? With- with a stand arrow?”

Yukako’s brow furrows, face blanching. She looks vaguely ill, and Kakyoin almost regrets prodding. “...Yes.” Her face darkens then, her nose crinkling in anger. “Nijimura Keicho shot at my whole family with that stupid arrow,” She spits.

Kakyoin blinks. “Your- your whole family?”

Yukako’s face smooths out into a blank slate, her gaze falling to the ground, her eyelids fluttering. The red in her nose starts to come back, and Kakyoin immediately regrets the question. Shit, did I seriously just make a teenager cry-?

Yukako swallows thickly though, jerking her gaze back up. She breathes deeply, staring at her reflection in the mirror with dark, heavy-lidded eyes the color of dusk. Half her head is now sticky and dark with the black dye.

“Yes. My whole family.” She answers. “I wasn’t the second person he shot the arrow at, but...but I was the second standuser he made with it in Morioh -- the first was Red Hot Chili Pepper.”

Kakyoin seizes as the subtext of her words falls into place. Flashbacks of his conversation with Josuke and Okuyasu come back to him, each word twisting his intestines up in his gut like someone was reaching in and wringing them.

“Wouldn’t her family notice if she brought him to her house?”

“Wouldn’t her family notice if she was gone from the property?”

“...What if her family just doesn’t care?”

Kakyoin swallows, adding a fourth line of logic with the graveness only hindsight can give. What if they aren’t alive to care?

Stand arrows only worked on those who had suitable souls, after all…

Kakyoin vigorously shakes his head, squeezing the bowl in his lap if only to reground himself. He clears his throat. “Ah. So- did Nijimura have you guys meet him somewhere, or-?”

“I never met him -- Red Hot Chili Pepper -- in person,” Yukako says, “Nijimura just- he just mentioned him, is all.”

Kakyoin hums. “Did he mention a name?”

Yukako pauses at that, tilting her head thoughtfully. “...Yes. I don’t remember it exactly, but- the last name was O- ‘O’ something…” Yukako grinds her teeth together, brows furrowing. Kakyoin sits on the edge of his wheelchair, staring intently.

Yukako shudders, shaking her head. “I...shouldn’t say it here.”

“What?” Kakyoin cries, “Why? Yamagishi, we need-”

“His stand power deals with electricity,” Yukako hisses, and Kakyon shuts his mouth, teeth clicking together. “He could be listening right now. I don’t know about you or why you’re interested in him, but I’m certainly not invested enough in whatever that creep is doing to die finding out about it.”

Kakyoin blinks. Ah. Good point. “Right,” is all he says. “Well- is there anything you can tell us for now, then?”

Yukako sighs, slumping a little in her seat. “If you’re looking for information on Red Hot Chili Pepper only, then not a whole lot.”

Kakyoin hums, glancing up at the lights of Aya’s salon, the hum of electricity just brushing against Kakyoin’s eardrums if he strains to listen. Yamagishi’s right...we shouldn’t do this in a place so vulnerable.

Kakyoin instead switches gears. “Do you know anything about the stand arrow?”

Yukako blinks, face blanching like she’s dizzy, and a part of Kakyoin wonders where she got shot. A part of him thinks he’s better off not knowing.

After a beat of silence, Yukako takes a breath, swallowing. “Not really. Nijimura only talked to me once, and it was right after he shot me, so I- I wasn’t quite...there.” Yukako pauses, lips pressing into a thin line. Kakyoin allows her the moment, the only sound being the wet static as Aya continues to expertly paint the dye into Yukako’s hair.

“He mentioned his dad, though,” Yukako murmurs, and Kakyoin blinks. Nijimura senior, huh? “I don’t remember exactly how, but I know Nijimura’s father was related to it at some point.”

Kakyoin hums, Okuyasu’s face flashing in his mind’s eye. Maybe he knows something? Kakyoin works his jaw slowly from side to side, staring distantly at the bowl of dye in his lap. Maybe I should ask him about it next Sunday…

Kakyoin hums, leaning his head to the side. Yeah. Next Sunday. They should get this upcoming one off after this whole ordeal…

Kakyoin’s gaze refocuses, and he turns it toward Yukako, whose hair is almost completely wet and black with the dye, Aya working diligently on the last few strands. She glances at Kakyoin, raising a brow, and Kakyoin just sighs, fingers tightening around the bowl.

“Alright,” Kakyoin says, “thanks for the information.”

Yukako’s eyes narrow at Kakyoin’s tone, but before she can say anything, Aya straightens, dumping the brush she was using into the bowl of dye on Kakyoin’s lap.

“Miss Yamagishi,” Aya calls as she takes the bowl from Kakyoin’s arms, settling it against her hip, “I’m all done painting the dye on.”

Yukako blinks, as if she hadn’t noticed, gaze refocusing on her reflection. Her fingers twitch gently at the image -- despite being wet and heavy under the dye, her hair is almost back to the way it was.

Yukako opens and closes her mouth for a second, before she swallows. “...Thank you.”

Aya smiles a little, glancing down at Kakyoin, who gives her a small nod. Turning back to Yukako, Aya says, “Well, Miss Yamagishi, the dye will need to sit for a bit, just to settle in and cling more effectively to your hair. I’ll go wash my supplies while it does, but just call if you need anything, alright?”

Yukako hums an affirmation, still focusing most of her attention on the mirror, and Aya sends one last glance to Kakyoin -- he can hear her implied Be sure to fill me in with it -- as she walks past him to the back room.

Kakyoin hums, settling in his seat, letting Yukako have a few moments with the relief of knowing her hair isn’t going to be pasty white anymore.

After a few more seconds, though, he leans forward, clapping his hands together lightly, drawing Yukako’s attention to him.

“Now, let’s get into the meat of this conversation, yeah?” Kakyoin asks.

Yukako pales despite her gaze hardening, no doubt in preparation for any grilling Kakyoin could have regarding Koichi.

Well, might as well stop beating around the bush, Kakyoin thinks. “Why did you kidnap Koichi?”

Yukako was already stiff, so she can’t freeze anymore, but she does recoil slowly like she’s moving through thick sludge, like instead of a tarp around her shoulders, it’s tar.

“...I don’t know,” She says.

Kakyoin raises a brow. “You don’t know? But it was planned, wasn’t it? Why else would you have taken him to that vacation home?”

“Because that’s where I’m living right now,” Yukako murmurs, and Kakyoin pauses, the revelation of her family in their earlier conversation coinciding with this one, making his stomach heavy.

Shaking his head, Kakyoin clarifies, “So it was spontaneous?”

Yukako nods slowly.

Kakyoin hums. Okay... “Well, once you had him, what did you plan on doing?”

Yukako chews on her tongue for a second, jaw shifting minutely, before she says, “It’s...I don’t know what was wrong with me. I wanted to control him. I wanted him to be perfect.”

Kakyoin nods but Yukako hesitates. Swallowing, Kakyoin prompts, “Was there something you had in mind that you wanted him ‘perfect’ for?”

Yukako’s face flushes and she ducks her head, grimacing. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “...It’s pathetic,” she spits. She jerks her gaze up to Kakyoin, glaring. “And I don’t see why that information would be relevant to you.”

Kakyoin sighs, flicking his sunglasses up to rest on his forehead. He leans forward, staring flatly at Yukako, fingers clasped beneath his chin. “Alright, then let me clarify. I need to know if R- someone, put you up to this, and if so, why -- and regardless of the answers to the previous questions, I need to know if you plan on doing it again.”

Yukako blinks, gaze losing its steel as it darts across Kakyoin’s face. After a beat, she lowers her eyes. “I see…”

It’s her turn to sigh then, gaze turning down to the floor. She looks like a dying tree in the rain, with the way her hair is sticking wet and heavy to her scalp.

“Then...no, no one put me up to...it,” Yukako murmurs. “I just wanted him perfect for...me. No one else.” She ducks her head in shame, her hair sliding against the tarp around her shoulders. Kakyoin would feel a little bad, digging at such a fresh wound, but the fact she was the one who chose this path for herself keeps him from diving into full-on pity.

“And do you plan on kidnapping again, Koichi or otherwise?” Kakyoin asks, and Yukako’s lip reflexively curls into a snarl, but the rest of her face falls into sorrow, brows furrowing upward and eyes setting downward.

“No. I don’t.”

Kakyoin nods, leaning on his hand. “And how can I be sure of that?”

Yukako stiffens, brows drawing down, but she doesn’t protest the remark. Instead, she bows her head a little lower, and says, “Nothing but my word.”

She lifts her chin then, violet eyes shimmering like hot springs. “But...but I can say this experience has- affected me, and how I see Koichi.”

Kakyoin raises a brow. “Yeah?”

Yukako takes a deep breath, gazing down at the floor.

“I first started noticing him when the school year began,” Yukako mutters. Kakyoin hums as a prompt to continue, and Yukako’s brows furrow, but she concedes. “He just seemed...so normal. After how my spring break ended, what with getting a stand, I guess I just wanted the sense of stability that normal could grant. And I found that in Koichi…”

Yukako sighs, eyes glazing over as she falls into memories. “But as I watched him, I saw he was a loyal friend too, checking on Josuke when his grandfather died and always bringing him his work so he wouldn’t fall behind. He’s also kind of funny, though I don’t think he means to be -- unfortunate things just happen to him, and he makes the most of it.” Yukako’s smile turns crooked with bitterness, and Kakyoin can hear the unsaid tag along. Just like he did with me.

“He seemed like my ideal person. So when he stopped living up to that ideal, I...freaked out,” Yukako sighs. Kakyoin almost snorts, but he’s able to bite it back. “ Freak out” is a way to put it...but at least she’s mature enough to acknowledge it.

“...But I think...In hindsight, I think I was more interested in my idea of him, than...him,” Yukako admits quietly, and Kakyoin almost squirms, the words rocking inside of his skull, flashes of Jotaro as he cooly walked out of the room after getting rid of the fleshbud skipping through his mind. Kakyoin blinks and the images disappear. “And I recognize that now...so…”

She shrugs helplessly, and Kakyoin swallows thickly.

“So...I’m not doing it again. It wouldn’t be fair to him.”

Kakyoin raises a brow. “And it was fair to him this time?”

Yukako shoots him a dirty glance, brows furrowed in irritation, mouth in a tight frown. Kakyoin just stares at her with his crooked brow.

“No,” Yukako seethes, “it wasn’t. I just meant-” Her breath hitches then, and she ducks her head down and away from Kakyoin. “I just meant...to kidnap him again despite knowing I wouldn’t even want him for him ...despite knowing he has friends who do love him for him...it...I…”

Yukako sighs and trails off, and Kakyoin shifts in his seat, eyes softening.

“Well,” Kakyoin sighs, “good news, then: you’re probably not going to be arrested.”

Yukako jerks her head up, blinking at Kakyoin. “What?”

“No one died,” Kakyoin starts listing off, “nor was anyone even wounded -- except you, maybe, but we’re fixing that right now --” Yukako’s face twitches, glancing at the mirror, “and you’re sincere about not doing it again. Plus, you’re a minor, and the last thing the Foundation wants to deal with is arresting a minor overseas, so…”

Kakyoin waves a hand vaguely. “You’ll probably be watched over for a bit, but not arrested.”

Yukako blinks. “Foundation?” She eventually asks.

“Oh, right,” Kakyoin smacks his forehead, shaking his head. “The organization I’ve been alluding to this whole time is the Speedwagon Foundation. They’re from the United States, but they’re a nonprofit liberal arts funder, essentially…” Kakyoin purses his lips. “And as of late, the study of stands and their uses has fallen under that.”

Yukako blinks again, and Kakyoin just shrugs. “I’ll take you to get you registered with them after this. They’ll also probably be able to get you more stable housing than a vacation home that isn’t yours…”

Yukako’s eyes widen, hope filling her face, before she visibly shuts it out, clenching her jaw.

“...Why would they do that for me?” She mutters.

Kakyoin hums. “Fair question. But they’re really interested in standusers ever since establishing their stand branch, and they are half a charity organization, so they’re not just gonna leave you in a dire situation.”

Yukako grimaces, but says nothing else.

“You’ll see when you meet them,” Kakyoin promises, and Yukako sighs. “I know it may seem too good to be true, but they really do want to help, if only to get information.”

Yukako hunches inward. “...Okay,” She says softly, and Kakyoin feels some of his resolve give way in his chest.

There’s a shuffling then, followed by some clattering and clinking, before the clicking of heels indicative of Aya’s return from the backroom fills the air. Kakyoin looks up to greet her.

She raises a finely groomed brow at him, and Kakyoin simply nods. She nods in return before turning to Yukako.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Aya announces, “but it’s time to finish the dye-job.”

Yukako’s gaze darts toward her, staring at her through the mirror.

“Miss Yamagishi,” Aya says, “let’s head over to the rinse stations, yeah?”

Yukako blinks, hesitating. Kakyoin raises a brow as she stands up from her chair.

“But- but won’t showering so soon wash out the dye?” Yukako asks weakly.

Aya laughs, making Yukako stiffen, upper lip twitching as she fights off a snarl.

“No, no. I suppose I can’t blame you for thinking that, but no, it won’t ruin the dye, don’t worry,” Aya chuckles. Yukako’s face is still set in a grimace, and Kakyoin covers a snort with a cough.

“Come on, the water will be warm,” Aya says, and Yukako sighs before following her to the shampooing station, leaving Kakyoin behind.

“Miss Tsuji?” Kakyoin calls, rolling out and away, “Do you have a phone I could borrow?”

“Sure, on the front desk,” Aya calls back.

Kakyoin rolls to it as the sound of spraying water washes over the store, accompanied by the trickling of it falling down the drain. Kakyoin can feel his shoulders relax a bit as he goes to pick up the phone, once again dialing the Speedwagon Foundation.

While he’s on the call, Kakyoin is only vaguely aware of Aya washing through Yukako’s hair, shampooing and conditioning it before shutting the water off, the midnight-black strands wet and silky as Aya combs through them, before she dries it all off with a hairdryer.

Just as Kakyoin hangs up the phone, Aya clicks off the hairdryer.

“And...done,” Aya hums, pleased, as she sets Yukako’s bangs in place. Taking off the tarp around Yukako’s shoulders, Aya asks, “How do you like it?”

Yukako is staring openly at her reflection, eyes soft and brows furrowed upward as she takes herself in. She swallows thickly, ducking her head. “I really like it. Thank you.”

Aya smirks to herself for a job well done, and Kakyoin can’t help but smile himself from having watched the interaction.

“How much do I owe you?” Kakyoin asks, and Aya waves a hand, shaking her head.

“Just buy me dinner from Tonio’s or something. I can’t cook myself, so having a guaranteed, quality meal in my near future would mean more,” She teases. Kakyoin snorts, nodding easily.

“I can definitely do that.”

She hums, glancing at Yukako, who stood up from her chair but is still staring at her reflection.

“Keep an eye on her,” She murmurs, and Kakyoin nods.

“Way ahead of you on that one.”

Nodding, Aya’s mouth curves back up, and she teasingly adds, “You better tell me the whole story of this when we have that dinner.”

Kakyoin laughs, nodding along easily. “It’s a date.”

“Ha!” Aya snorts before she nods, and Kakyoin rolls back to Yukako.

“Hey,” He calls. Yukako jerks, snapping her head toward Kakyoin, relaxing when she sees it’s only him.

“Hey,” Kakyoin repeats, “Let’s go talk to the Speedwagon Foundation now, yeah?”

Yukako blinks, before nodding slowly. “Yeah…”

Kakyoin narrows his eyes but says nothing, turning to wave to Aya one last time before he and Yukako leave the store.

“They said we can meet an agent near the town square,” Kakyoin explains as the door shuts behind him. Yukako hums distantly. She’s keeping pace with Kakyoin, but her eyes are glazed, like she’s not in the moment.

Kakyoin almost holds his tongue, but his curiosity gets the best of him and he asks, “Something on your mind?”

Yukako hums half-heartedly.

Kakyoin raises a brow. “I thought the hair dye would make you more upbeat, not more wistful.”

Yukako scoffs then, blinking as her eyes come back into focus. “It’s not that.”

She hesitates for a moment then, before her shoulders hunch slightly. “It’s…”

She swallows thickly, and Kakyoin waits patiently for her to continue as they move along Morioh’s streets.

“He saved me,” Yukako whispers. “I tried to kill him and he saved me. Why did he save me?”

Kakyoin’s mouth runs dry, echoes of words he’d said himself ten years earlier bouncing in his skull. Why did you risk your life to save mine?

Kakyoin jerkily shakes his head, snapping himself out of it.

Oh, kid…

Kakyoin swallows, his throat clicking noisily, before he says, “You’re not deserving of death just because you scared the hell out of him.”

Yukako says nothing, and Kakyoin swallows again.

“Yamagishi -- Yukako -- I understand a lot has happened to you recently. I know you have weird feelings about Koichi now, too. But-” Kakyoin exhales, the air clunky in his chest, like it was more solid than gaseous, before continuing, “...but, I think the best course of action at this point is to accept you’re alive, and you have a second chance. Figure things out with Koichi if you want, but don’t-” Kakyoin grits his teeth, sea blue haunting the edges of his mind, “-don’t make that your new reason for living.

“You got into this mess because you became so focused on someone else,” Kakyoin says quietly, “so don’t make the same mistake again and just live your life for yourself. Koichi gave you a gift; make the most of it, don’t try to return it to him.”

Yukako stays silent throughout Kakyoin’s spiel, and for every second she says nothing, Kakyoin becomes more and more certain he fucked up, like he blended his experiences too much with Yukako’s and forgot she could have a different perspective than him, that she’s a different person than him-

“Okay,” She says quietly. “I’ll try.”

Kakyoin nods. “That’s enough.” It’ll have to be.

Kakyoin glances at the girl beside him with the same eyes as his and aches, his chest heavy and low and tight. It’ll have to be.

Chapter Text

The muffled thud of a body against grass fills Kakyoin’s ears, a satisfying end to a fight. Hierophant slivers away, the grass caressing him as he does, but Kakyoin shakes his head at the feeling, shrugging it off. “Alright, Koichi, let’s try again.”

Koichi groans, brows furrowed intensely enough for a wrinkle to form between them, face dirty and mouth in a tight frown as he stands back up, ripped blades of grass dropping from his uniform. Echoes swings around him, trilling in exasperation as it eyes Hierophant irritably.

Josuke shrieks then, and Kakyoin only has time to whip his head to look before he crashes into the ground himself, skidding before the friction brings him to a stop.

Okuyasu, on the other hand, laughs brightly, skipping over to help his friend up. “Yoo, Josuke! Did you even see that coming? I’m getting pretty good, right?”

“You’re getting pretty annoying,” Josuke snaps, but he easily accepts the hand Okuyasu offers him, springing to his feet before tugging, laughing when Okuyasu stumbles because of it.

“Sore loser,” Okuyasu complains, and Josuke just sticks his tongue out at him.

Kakyoin snorts at the pair, Koichi grumbling beside him.

“You are improving though,” Kakyoin calls to Okuyasu, and the boy beams, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

The smile is infectious, Kakyoin’s own mouth curving upward slightly, when Koichi clears his throat roughly, and he turns back to him.

“How- how many more go’s are we doing?” Koichi asks almost desperately in between pants, voice gravelly and rough.

Kakyoin hums, turning to Josuke. “What time is it?”

Josuke is tucking a few stray hairs back into his pompadour, Okuyasu gently helping him to straighten them, before he glances down at his watch. “Uh- oh, shit, it’s already two.”

Kakyoin blinks, straightening in his wheelchair, much to his spine’s complaint, pain tingling along his nerves as his muscles tighten. “Oh.” He turns to Koichi. “Then I guess we’re done for the day.” Kakyoin almost apologizes for eating up so much of their free time, but he holds his tongue.

Koichi deflates, shoulders slumping as Echoes fades away beside him. “Okay. Okay.”

Kakyoin hums, eyes narrowing, while Josuke walks over to his friend. “Sorry you got stuck with Mr. Kakyoin as a sparring partner today,” He says as he passes Koichi his water bottle, which the boy eagerly takes.

He shakes his head after taking a few gulps, wiping his mouth. “No- don’t worry about it,” Koichi sighs, gaze darting to Kakyoin’s before flashing away when meeting his eyes. “Um. One of us had to do it.” He pauses, before chuckling a little into the rim of the water bottle. “It seems like Okuyasu roughed you up as much as Mr. Kakyoin did me, though.”

“Oi,” Josuke complains, and Kakyoin huffs, shaking his head. Speaking of Okuyasu though…

“Okuyasu,” Kakyoin calls, and Okuyasu jerks to attention, straightening his back.

“Yeah, Mr. Kakyoin?” Okuyasu asks.

Kakyoin works his jaw from side to side for a second, whispers of Yukako’s words the previous week echoing in his head. Nijimura’s father…

“I...was wondering if I could ask you something. About the stand arrow.”

Any mirth in Okuyasu’s face drains away at the mention of the arrow, gaze immediately casting downward, and Kakyoin frowns at this, guilt lapping at his gut like his insides were a beach. Josuke and Koichi frown, exchanging a glance.

“Um, sure, Mr. Kakyoin,” Okuyasu says, voice light but his expression betraying it, raising his gaze to meet Kakyoin’s like it was akin to hefting a boulder up a hill. “What’s up?”

Kakyoin’s frown deepens, but he says, “I was wondering...where did your brother even find that thing?”

Okuyasu fidgets, gaze darting downward. Josuke frowns.

“Hey, where’s this suddenly coming from, Mr. Kakyoin?” Josuke asks.

Kakyoin hums low in his throat. “Just trying to trace where the arrow has been the past ten years so the Foundation can find any other standusers the arrow might’ve created. Gotta get them connected with support and resources while studying them.”

Josuke’s brow furrows, but he says nothing more. Koichi shifts a little closer to Okuyasu and Okuyasu takes a breath.

“Um. My brother got the arrow from my dad.”

It’s where Kakyoin wanted the conversation to lead, but he feels no sense of victory over seamlessly getting there -- not while Okuyasu’s voice is so gravelly and so small, sounding like a small child that wandered too far from home.

Kakyoin swallows. “Your dad, huh? Do you know where he got it?” His tone is light, paralleling Okuyasu’s rare softness.

Okuyasu drops his head, shuddering, and Kakyoin regrets the words, shame raging throughout his chest, liquid fire leaking through his veins.

“It- actually, it’s okay, Okuyasu, you don’t need to tell m-”

Okuyasu shudders again before he shakes his head. “N-no, no, it’s okay Mr. Kakyoin.”

His voice is small, and when Okuyasu raises his head again, he looks mildly nauseous, staring dazedly at the ground with furrowed brows. Josuke reaches out an arm, clasping a hand around Okuyasu’s wrist gently, and Okuyasu swallows.

“Um. It- it’s kinda a long story,” Okuyasu murmurs. “But my dad got it from...geez, I guess he counted as his old boss?”

Kakyoin blinks. “Boss?”

Okuyasu’s face crumples and Kakyoin immediately backtracks.

“You know, never mind-”

“-DIO,” Okuyasu says quietly, and Kakyoin shuts his jaw so quickly his teeth click together, pain tingling along his jaw. “His boss’s name was DIO.”

Kakyoin’s heart is racing in his chest, tripping over its own rhythm like a fawn trying to run for the first time, and Kakyoin distantly thinks that can’t be healthy.

“...DIO?” He eventually croaks out, mortification sweeping across his chest as a heatwave at the awkward strain in his voice.

Okuyasu fidgets, and Josuke reaches down to interlock their fingers, Koichi reaching up to grasp onto his other arm.

Kakyoin blinks and shakes his head. They were both clearly uncomfortable, but now he’s more curious than ever…

“You know what, never mind.” He chews on his tongue. “I’m- sorry. Sorry.”

Okuyasu shakes his head but it doesn’t make Kakyoin feel any better.

Kakyoin holds his breath for a second before continuing with, “Do you think you could just let me talk to your dad? I don’t wanna force you to continue this conversation.”

Okuyasu’s nervous fidgeting shuts down, shoulders falling limp, and Kakyoin’s brow furrows as Josuke and Koichi flutter around him.

“Um-” Josuke starts, before Okuyasu cuts him off.

“It’s okay, Josuke,” He murmurs, and Josuke shuts his mouth, grimacing. Okuyasu takes a breath before looking back up at Kakyoin.

“Um. I don’t think that would really work out,” Okuyasu directs to Kakyoin, and Kakyoin blinks. “He’s uh...he’s not really up for any kind of conversation these days.”

Kakyoin blinks, before cold flushes across his system, freezing him from the inside out. “Is- is he dead?”

Okuyasu jerkily shakes his head, though, and Kakyoin lets out a quiet breath, relief swamping him.

“No, not- not dead. Just…” Okuyasu sighs, and Jouske and Koichi frown.

“You don’t have to give me details if you don’t want t-” Kakyoin starts to say, but Okuyasu shakes his head.

“No, it- you can know. It’s probably time for an adult to know…” he mutters, and Kakyoin frowns. Okuyasu sighs, before looking back up. “It...is probably easier to show you than to explain it, though.”

Kakyoin blinks, but nods. Okuyasu takes a deep breath before turning to Koichi and Josuke, murmuring something Kakyoin can’t hear as he slips out of their grips. Josuke’s face falls at the loss of contact while Koichi stays stiff, worried.

“Um. It’s not a long walk, but…” Okuyasu shrugs, swallowing. “I’ll lead the way.”

“You...live here?”

The ramshackle, dark wooden house staring Kakyoin down from across the lawn is the picture definition of a fixer-upper -- and that was being generous. Wood is rotting visibly outside, dust caking the sides of the house and roof tiles. Weeds and dead grass make an unwelcoming first impression on the lawn, overgrown and dry, prickly and bitter with thorns.

“Er, yeah,” Okuyasu says meekly, rubbing the back of his head, and Kakyoin blinks, realizing the callousness of his question.

Kakyoin coughs lightly. “It’s, ah...impressionable.”

Okuyasu just blinks. Koichi coughs and Okuyasu shakes his head.

“It’s okay, Mr. Kakyoin, I know it’s not much…”

Kakyoin grimaces, gaze turning back to the building -- or lack thereof. “Is this even safe?”

Okuyasu waves his hands. “Yeah! It survived a stand fight between my brother and Josuke so-”

Josuke lets out a strangled noise while Kakyoin snaps his gaze to Okuyasu. “What?” He cries, and Josuke laughs, the sound loud and fake and abrupt.

“Nothing! It’s nothing, it’s-” Josuke sighs, shaking his head. “It’s...seen better days, yeah.”

Kakyoin points at Josuke with a gloved finger. “Why the hell were you attacking Okuyasu’s brother?”

Josuke’s face sours, lip curling into a snarl. “He shot that stupid arrow at Koichi and tried to keep me from healing him.”

Kakyoin blinks. Koichi shifts his feet, the dead grass crunching beneath his shoes.

Okuyasu coughs. “I’m sorry,” He says abruptly. Kakyoin blinks, turning to face him.

“Why are you apologizing?”

Okuyasu shrugs, brows furrowed upward. “It- I know it’s not a great house. I’m sorry it’s...not...cleaner?” He winces.

Kakyoin frowns. “Okuyasu, I’m not upset over the house, necessarily; I’m just upset that you’re forced to live in a place like this.”

Okuyasu blinks, features falling open.

Kakyoin squirms under the tense atmosphere. “I mean, I’m getting splinters just looking at it. The Speedwagon Foundation could get you better housing, you know?”

Okuyasu blinks again before his face crumples and he looks down. “I know,” He murmurs. Before Kakyoin can ask any clarifying questions, Okuyasu continues by himself. “But- I just don’t know how they’d react to my dad. I couldn’t abandon him here, and I definitely couldn’t give him to a bunch of scientists to poke and prod.”

Kakyoin blinks at the reminder of what they’re here for. He frowns, brow furrowing. Just what exactly was wrong with Mr. Nijimura?

Kakyoin fingers his scarf, before patting Okuyasu on the back. “I’m sure I can pull some strings so nothing bad would happen to him,” Kakyoin says quietly. Okuyasu hums and Kakyoin’s frown deepens. “I’m serious. I know I don’t technically work for the foundation, but I might as well with the influence I have.”

Okuyasu hums again, tone a little tighter this time.

“Why do you have so much influence, anyway, Mr. Kakyoin?” Koichi asks. Kakyoin snorts, smirking to himself.

“Nepotism.”

“Huh?” Koichi and Josuke echo, but Kakyoin just motions to Okuyasu.

“Lead the way, kid.”

Okuyasu sucks in a breath, hiking up his shoulders like he was marching into battle. That’s not what coming home should feel like... Kakyoin thinks, the smirk melting off his face.

“Okay,” Okuyasu says, stepping up to his porch, “follow me.”

Koichi, Josuke, and Kakyoin all exchange glances, but they follow wordlessly.

Kakyoin’s wheelchair rolls easily over the dead grass, the dried-out and yellowed plants not having enough water to hinder him, nor the flexibility to tangle around his wheels. Kakyoin almost snorts to himself. It’s weird to prefer something dead over alive.

They get to the porch, and Kakyoin eyes the rickety stairs leading up to it suspiciously. Okuyasu yanks open his door, and an awful creak, high in pitch, sounds out as the hinges grind against each other.

“Oh, shit,” Jouske says, “I forgot about the stairs. Mr. Kakyoin, do you need any he-?”

Kakyoin tuts, Hierophant appearing as a mass of tentacles to grab hold of his wheelchair, hoisting him up the steps. Josuke and Koichi blink in surprise, and Kakyoin shakes his head.

“I’m fine,” He says dryly, and the two glance at each other before hurrying up themselves.

Kakyoin rolls inside, only to seize as his chest constricts, his lungs fighting against the amount of dust he had inhaled just by moving in the space.

Kakyoin coughs, dust clinging to his airway, and he grimaces at the taste and smell of dirt before he properly looks around.

The house is dark -- there doesn’t seem to be running electricity, which makes Kakyoin wonder how Okuyasu stayed warm during the beginning of spring when the world was still warming up again. The wood inside is just as rotted as the paneling outside, and Kakyoin distantly wonders if he’d fall through the floor should he try to roll over it in his wheelchair.

He shakes his head though, moving further into the entryway, Koichi and Josuke following behind him.

Kakyoin only just bites back a scowl when he turns the corner and Okuyasu is waiting for them on the first step of a flight of stairs.

“Are you really asking me to go up more stairs?” Kakyoin grumbles crossly, and Okuyasu blinks, his face blanching.

“Shit! I’m so sorry Mr. Kakyoin, I just didn’t think about it…”

“No one does,” Kakyoin sighs, an edge to his voice before he shakes his head. “But it’s fine. Hierophant Green has me.”

Okuyasu exhales, shoulders slumping, and Kakyoin hesitates.

“Really, it’s not your fault, Okuyasu. You certainly didn’t build this house.”

Okuyasu hums as if he’s not sure if he should laugh or not, before he turns, taking another hesitant step up. Kakyoin sighs softly before jerking his head, gesturing up the stairs.

“You two go on ahead,” Kakyoin says. Josuke’s face pinches, but he says nothing. Koichi fidgets, before piping up.

“Are you sure, Mr. Kakyoin? What if you fal-?”

“Then Hierophant will just catch me,” Kakyoin says, trying to go for a smile but ending with just a baring of his teeth at Koichi. “He’s malleable, you see. Absorbs shock like a pro.”

Koichi ducks his head. “Ah- right…”

Josuke’s eyes narrow at the interaction, but he says nothing, gaze darting up to where Okuyasu has disappeared on the second floor.

“Come on,” Josuke murmurs, “Okuyasu needs us.”

Koichi blinks, brows furrowing in determination, and the pair heads up the stairs with no further comments, the boards creaking ominously under their weight. Kakyoin frowns, but there is no resounding crunch of wood giving away, just the soft groans of planks far past their prime.

Kakyoin sighs, calling out Hierophant again. Once more appearing as a mass of tentacles, Hierophant gently scoops up Kakyon’s wheelchair, lifting it off the ground, as four tentacles act like makeshift legs to pad up the stairs. The tentacles’ soft green glow lights up the house, and Kakyoin frowns at the faded color and distorted shapes he can see as a result. Okuyasu has to get out of this house, this is outright dangerous...

When Kakyoin makes it up the flight, he can see Koichi rubbing Okuyasu’s arm comfortingly while Josuke holds his hand, his free one on his friend’s shoulder.

They’re murmuring comforts Kakyoin can’t hear as Hierophant dissipates, and when Kakyoin is set down with a light thud against the floor, boards squeaking under the sudden weight, they stop talking altogether.

Okuyasu takes a deep breath, looking up at Kakyoin as he inches toward a door branching off from the hallway that makes up the second floor.

“Um,” He mumbles, “he didn’t...always look this way…”

Kakyoin raises a brow at the vague explanation, but he doesn’t prompt Okuyasu further. Okuyasu takes a deep breath and opens the door.

The first thing Kakyion sees as he rolls in, following after Okuyasu, is scratch marks against the floor. They seem more accidental than purposeful, like an animal became ignorant of their claws and stretched without regard for them, but Kakyoin frowns anyway.

Then Kakyoin lifts his gaze and freezes, fingers flexing as if to pull Okuyasu away from the...thing in the corner of the room.

Green skin covered in boils is all Kakyoin can make out a first. The longer he stares and the more his eyes adjust to the darkness, though, the more he can see. Tufts of dark hair sprout out awkwardly from its head, bangs flopping into two differently-sized eyes. Scraps of clothing cling to its figure, but Kakyoin can’t tell what the articles used to actually be.

Chapped lips open and close a few times before the creature turns to Okuyasu, letting out a groan that almost sounds confused. Kakyoin’s hair stands on end at the vocalization.

“Hey dad,” Okuyasu says quietly, crouching down to be eye level with the...with his father, Kakyoin guesses. The nerves along the back of his neck and arms tingle with the desire to run away. Kakyoin sets his jaw and stays put.

“This is Mr. Kakyoin,” Okuyasu says, gesturing back to him, and Kakyoin freezes as the creature’s eyes land on him; small, pinprick pupils, sizing him up. “He’s my teacher,” Okuyasu continues.

Josuke and Koichi settle behind him, the wood squeaking under their feet, and the reminder of their presence grounds Kakyoin just a bit, if only enough to stop his heart from beating faster as the creature meets his gaze.

The -- man? Beast? -- lets out another rasping sound, more like a croak this time, before turning back to Okuyasu. Okuyasu clears his throat, brows furrowing as his gaze drops.

“I, uh...I thought it was time he knew about you, is all,” Okuyasu finishes, voice croaky and awkward in his throat. Josuke steps past Kakyoin toward his friend, and Kakyoin almost wants to draw him back, but he isn’t sure why. The creature hasn’t done anything, so why is Kakyoin so uneasy…?

Josuke saddles up beside his friend, placing a hand on his shoulder. Okuyasu closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

The creature looks at Okuyasu for a beat longer, before turning around, waddling on unbalanced feet back to a cot, sitting down on it before gently cradling a polaroid. Kakyoin can’t see what it’s a picture of, exactly, but the white borders around the photo make it unmistakable.

Okuyasu takes a deep breath, turning to Kakyoin. Josuke stays by his side, hand dropping down to tangle their fingers together instead. Okuyasu squeezes his hand, and Kakyoin eyes this before turning to Okuyasu’s face.

“I’m, uh, sure you have questions,” Okuyasu says nervously, voice wavering and jerky, like rusted gears.

Kakyoin holds his tongue for a moment. “Are you sure it’s alright to ask?”

Okuyasu takes a deep breath, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.”

Kakyoin presses his lips into a line, gaze straying back to the creature. It hasn’t moved; it’s still just sitting and staring at the polaroid.

Kakyoin swallows. “What...what happened to him?”

Okuyasu takes another deep breath. Josuke squeezes his hand. “I don’t know all the details,” Okuyasu’s gravelly voice pipes up after steeling himself. “I was young when it happened. But from what my brother used to say, and from what I remember…”

Okuyasu swallows. Kakyoin jerks his gaze away from the creature and back to him.

“When my dad was working for DIO,” Okuyasu starts, and Kakyoin sucks in a breath, preparing himself for anything Okuyasu could follow that up with, “something- something called a fleshbud was planted into his head.”

Kakyoin was not prepared.

Distantly, he’s grateful for his wheelchair for the first time in his life, because he knows for a fact if he was standing, he’d have dropped like a puppet cut from its strings.

Puppet-

Bad analogy. Bad analogy. Kakyoin can feel his heartbeat in his fingertips, blood roaring in his ears.

That doesn’t stop Okuyasu’s words from continuing to slink in.

“It allowed DIO to control him...like mind control,” Okuyasu explains, and the hole where Kakyoin’s stomach should be clenches, writhing like a dying animal, and he tastes bile in the back of his throat. “Um...it was attached to my dad’s brain and it was made from DIO’s body or something...so when…”

Okuyasu swallows thickly, and Kakyoin has half the mind to be envious because his throat is so swollen he can’t do the same.

“So when DIO died, the fleshbud...freaked out because it was dying too, then. And it jumbled my dad up in the process.”

Kakyoin is shaking. His sunglasses are slipping off his nose but he feels frozen, like he can’t reach up to right them.

“Mr. Kakyoin?” Koichi asks from behind him, and the voice is so sudden Kakyoin is jerked into motion.

He tenses, rolling back away from that- that thing that could’ve been him , his sunglasses clattering to the floor as they fling off his face at the sudden movement.

“Mr. Kakyion?!” Josuke asks, turning his attention to him, and that thing looks up at all the commotion. It lazily locks eyes with Kakyoin, and Kakyoin’s heart seizes, jumping up to the bottom of his throat.

Nijimura-

Flashes of a man with the same dark hair and a mean, scowling face invade Kakyoin’s mind. Always with a suitcase. Always only talked to DIO -- not that Kakyoin was any different in those days, DIO’s sickly gold haze overlaying his entire worldview.

Kakyoin had never bothered to really learn the man’s name, but he remembers now, remembers DIO’s dripping timber murmuring, “Good job, Mr. Nijimura,” as Kakyion stands by like a decorative piece, a pretty prize, as he waits for his next orders-

He knew him. He knew him. What was the difference between them?

The creature that used to be Mr. Nijimura tilts its head at Kakyoin, considering, before it reaches up and taps its forehead questioningly.

Hierophant erupts from Kakyoin’s chest, tentacles using the floor for leverage and propelling him back, away from that creature, away from a future that could have been his own.

When Kakyoin rockets back out into the hallway, Koichi yelping as he’s forced to dive out of the way, Hierophant anchors around Kakyoin, similarly to how he did when Koichi first tried using Echoes’ persuasive abilities on him.

Kakyoin buries his face in his hands and shakes, Hierophant’s tentacles writhing around him like malleable armor.

“Mr. Kakyoin!” Josuke shouts, the thundering of his footsteps letting Kakyoin know he’s following. He needs to get a grip, he needs to breathe, why couldn’t he breathe, why couldn’t he see, why was his heartbeat so loud, is this what Nijimura felt as the fleshbud tore him from the inside out-?

Kakyoin’s hearing is starting to ring and his head spins, bile pressing against the back of his throat threateningly, and Kakyion grits his teeth because, fuck, how embarrassing would it be to fall so apart in front of the kids?

Kakyoin can’t stop digging his fingers into the arms of his wheelchair. He’s hunched over and his back is screeching at him over it, fire combating the ice of panic, but it’s not enough. It’s too much. Kakyoin moves to wrap his arms around his head, forehead pressing against his forearm, and squeezes, begging himself to get a grip, get a grip, get a fucking grip-!

“MR. KAKYOIN!” Josuke shouts, voice panicked, and Kakyoin grits his teeth before rearing himself up, like he was surfacing from particularly thick water.

Hierophant’s tentacles slam down before dissipating, and Kakyion jerks his head around, gaze wild and unfocused, blurry shapes and dark shadows all around him, just like the mansion, Kakyoin never left, he’s going to become just like that creature, he’s doomed, he’s going to die for real this time, alone, alone, alone-

There are hands on his shoulders then and Kakyoin lets out a strangled yell, blinking before Josuke’s face comes into view, his pompadour bouncing slightly as he kneels down to be face-to-face with Kakyoin.

“Mr. Kakyoin, snap the hell out of it!” Josuke cries, words harsh but voice scared, and Kakyoin blinks again, still trembling, the hair on the back of his neck still standing on end, but the blood rushing past his ears dying down.

“Wh-what-” Kakyoin tries to speak from the lump in his throat, only to shiver violently, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. “Where- where-”

“We’re at Okuyasu’s house, remember?” Josuke says, and Kakyoin just shakes, why couldn’t he stop shaking? It was always so cold in the mansion…

“Mr. Kakyoin!” Josuke cries, voice edging panic again, and Kakyoin snaps his gaze to him. Josuke’s diamond blue eyes gleam in the dim light, face pinched in fear and panic and concern, and Kakyoin just stares. He looks so much like Jotaro.

A small spark of irritation goes off in his gut, and while his insides are too wet, too cold to catch fire because of it, it’s enough to make his lungs remember how to breathe again, rather than clench listlessly in his chest. Kakyoin takes a shuddering inhale, dropping his head again to rest against his arms.

“Mr. Kakyoin, please-” Josuke’s voice sounds so scared, so desperate, and Kakyoin swallows thickly.

“I’m here, kid,” Kakyoin wheezes, eyes darting about as he takes in lungfuls of the dusty air, staring out a window to focus on the unseemly neighborhood outside. Not Cairo. “I’m here.”

Josuke lets out a shuddering breath of his own, leaning his head to rest against Kakyoin’s shoulder, and Kakyoin feels a flare of shame rush through his system, burning layers of muscle and skin from the inside out.

Kakyion swallows again before lifting his head, prompting Josuke to lift his own and drop his hands.

Kakyoin rolls back, feeling the urge to curl into a ball, but his pride and spine furiously spit at him for even having the thought. Josuke stands up shakily, sighing.

Kakyoin coughs weakly, turning his head only to be met with Okuyasu and Koichi’s terrified gazes, and Kakyoin swallows as shame rips through him again, one sweltering wave of fire after another. He’s surprised he’s not a mess of ash and gore boiling on the floor with how hot it burns under his skin.

Kakyoin takes a couple of deep breaths, clearing his throat, before saying, “O...Okuyasu...Koichi,”

The words make both of them jump, spurring them into action. They hastily make their way to Kakyoin, skirting just around his personal space nervously, like moths dancing around a shaded lamp.

Kakyoin bites his tongue and looks down. He can’t blame them after...that, and that just makes the shame worse. Kakyoin feels sick, his gut still clenching down uncomfortably. Kakyoin wonders if Okuyasu would even care if he threw up on his floor. The thought of showing such weakness, however, just makes the shame burn even hotter, and Kakyoin grimaces.

Josuke joins their little huddle, and Kakyoin’s grimace deepens, feeling almost like a cornered animal. They’re kids, snaps a part of him, stop being so fucking dramatic, but that doesn’t stop him from shivering, hunkering down in his wheelchair despite his lower back clawing at his nerve endings for it.

“Mr. Kakyion,” Okuyasu’s gravelly, shaky voice sounds, and Kakyoin tiredly drags his gaze to the scarred boy. “Are...are you okay?”

Kakyoin opens his mouth to answer, but, mortifyingly, his voice breaks on the first syllable he tries to say. He shuts his mouth again, burying his face in his hands.

“Mr. Kakyoin,” Josuke asks, tone soft, “what...what was that?”

What the fuck did it look like? Snaps a part of Kakyion miserably, but Kakyoin bites his tongue to avoid saying it out loud. It’s not the kids’ fault I embarrassed myself like this.

Kakyoin takes a deep breath, shaking his head.

“It-” Kakyoin’s voice doesn’t break again, thankfully, but it’s dry -- so dry Kakyoin can’t quite vocalize. He coughs lightly, clearing his throat before he lifts his head. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Josuke frowns, eyes narrowing. “Do you really expect us to believe that?”

Do you really expect me to tell you? Snarks that same part of him, and Kakyoin digs his nails into his arm to try and shut it up.

“Do not,” Kakyoin ends up saying, “talk to me like that right now.” It’s more vulnerability than he ever wanted to express in front of the kids, but it also flashes his authority, and it makes Josuke shut his mouth, brows furrowing in shame. Kakyoin will take it, despite the flash of guilt adding to his own shame, wreaking havoc in his chest cavity.

“I’m sorry,” Josuke says, and Kakyoin shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” Kakyoin manages to scrape out, his voice like the ashy rock leftover from a volcanic eruption, “that you had to see that.”

“I’m sorry too,” Okuyasu says. Kakyoin raises a tired raised brow his way, but Okuyasu’s too shaken to catch it. “I’m so sorry,” he repeats, shivers of his own wracking his frame, “I’m so sorry. I’m-”

“Okuyasu,” Kakyoin cuts in. Okuyasu stops.

Kakyoin pauses, shaking his head. Now that his panic was subsiding, he was just tired…

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Kakyoin manages to scrape out, his voice like the burnt remnants of food inside of a dirty oven. “None of you did.”

Koichi bites his lip, reaching a hand to steady Okuyasu. Josuke takes his friend’s hand in his again. Okuyasu takes a deep breath.

“Are you okay now, Mr. Kakyoin?” Koichi asks again, and Kakyoin bites back any sharp replies. He lost the right to privacy when he decided to have an episode in front of the kids, after all.

“I’m fine,” Kakyoin sighs, shoulders slumping. He still feels as empty as he did when he woke up to a missing stomach nine years ago, but the kids don’t need to know that.

“What happened?” Josuke asks, and Kakyoin hesitates while Koichi winces, expecting a retort.

Kakyoin shakes his head, gazing past them to the room he had scrambled out of like he was a bat out of hell. The creature hadn’t followed, not even to observe them from the doorway. Kakyoin hates himself for the sweep of relief he feels, cool, gentle water against the flames of shame.

“...Memories…” Kakyoin mutters.

It’s an explanation that’s incredibly lacking, and by the confused glances Koichi and Josuke exchange, Kakyoin will need to elaborate. Kakyoin grits his teeth. Stop, hisses a part of him. They get to know if you get to throw a tantrum in front of them.

Kakyoin swallows. It feels like he’s eating glass, sharp rubble digging into his throat, tearing it from the inside out, pinpricks of pain spreading throughout his esophagus.

Kakyoin’s gaze strays away from the boys, a heavy weight making it hard to look at Okuyasu. “When...when Red Hot Chili Pepper tried to intimidate me out of town, he mentioned your brother by name -- Nijimura,” He murmurs.

Okuyasu stiffens. Kakyoin swallows again. The glass just sinks further down his throat, no less piercing.

“It was familiar to me. I didn’t know why until…” Kakyoin sucks in a breath, his neck straining over bowing his head for so long, but his nerves keeping him firmly in place, away from acknowledging the boys in the hallway with him. “Until...now…”

Silence. Then,

“Wha- what do you mean?” Okuyasu croaks, and Kakyoin winces at his voice.

Kakyoin takes a deep breath, but the words can’t form on his tongue, like water slipping past his fingers. So, he swallows, before raising his head slowly, bringing a hand up to pin back his bangs.

Okuyasu’s face blanches while Koichi’s brow furrows at the sight of the scar on Kakyoin’s forehead -- a small, dark pink pinprick right in the center. Kakyoin’s fingers clench around his hair.

“I think I knew your father when we were…we were both…” Kakyoin can’t say it. Ten years, and he still can’t say it, shame burning under his skin, swelling his tongue to the point he can’t talk.

“Oh,” Josuke says, his own face paling, and Kakyoin drops his hand, letting his bangs cover the scar again.

Josuke fidgets, mouthing something that looks suspiciously like DIO...mind control… Kakyoin’s eyes narrow, but before he can say anything, Josuke looks up again, lips parting to vocalize another question.

“What?” Kakyoin asks, voice low and flat, exhaustion weighing it down.

“Is- is that what you meant, when you said- when you mentioned how the DIO fight was personal to you?”

Kakyoin blinks. “When the hell did you h-”

Flashes of the spat he had with Jotaro immediately after the Angelo fight crowd Kakyoin’s head, and he ducks his face, shame using the memory as gasoline to continue burning, burning, burning.

“Oh. Right.” He mutters, before sighing. “Yes. That’s what I meant.”

Okuyasu shakily steps forward, and Kakyoin looks up at him.

“So,” Okuyasu says, voice trembling, “so you- you had a fleshbud, too?”

Kakyoin cringes, shoulders hiking up, Hierophant curling around his arms soothingly. He doesn't deny the accusation.

Okuyasu drops to his knees, looking up at Kakyoin earnestly, like he was praying to a god for answers, and it makes Kakyoin’s chest seize. “How- how did you become normal again? Is it because you had a stand before the fleshbud turned against you? Ho-”

“Oh,” Kakyoin can’t help that his face falls, brows furrowing upward as he stares at the desperate teenager in front of him. “Okuyasu- I-”

Kakyoin swallows, before he slowly slides himself out of his wheelchair, onto the floor with Okuyasu.

“The- mine got removed before it could turn on me,” Kakyoin murmurs. “I don’t...I never...I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Okuyasu echoes, his own face falling. “Oh.”

Kakyoin frowns, reaching out a hand. “Okuya-”

“It’s fine,” Okuyasu says, ducking his head -- but not fast enough for Kakyoin not to see the shine of tears. “I just- for a second- it’s fine. I’m not very smart, I probably just misunderst-”

Kakyoin surprises them both by pulling him into a hug.

“No, you- I should’ve been- I didn’t-” Kakyoin sighs, just squeezing his arms around Okuyasu. Okuyasu hesitantly reaches up to hug him back, and Kakyoin closes his eyes, breathing heavily.

“No. I didn’t-” Kakyoin can’t help but chuckle bitterly, biting back comments that want to drip from his lips like poisoned spit. “The only reason I’m not- not like-” Kakyoin swallows back a rush of panic, absent-mindedly fisting handfuls of Okuyasu’s uniform, “like- your father is because…” Ghost traces of fingers against his temples, palms cupping his cheeks, haunt Kakyoin’s senses, and he screws up his face in a grimace. “Someone- someone helped me. Someone had to pull it out for me.”

Kakyoin just shakes his head. Okuyasu doesn’t press him.

The floorboards creak then, and Kakyoin opens his eyes. Josuke is kneeling down with them now, Koichi hesitantly following. Kakyoin raises a brow, but Josuke just crawls forward, gently tapping at Okuyasu.

Okuyasu swallows before letting go of Kakyoin, prompting Kakyoin to drop his own arms. Josuke looks at his friend calculatingly, eyes darting across his face, brows furrowed in concern.

Okuyasu just shakes his head, and Josuke takes his hand again.

Kakyoin sighs, scooting back, jumping slightly when his back bumps against the railing of the second floor. He takes it, though, his spine demanding respite for having to keep him balanced, and he leans against it, sighing.

Okuyasu fidgets on his space on the floor, and Koichi crawls to his other side, patting his knee, looking up at his friend in concern. Okuyasu takes a shuddering breath.

“But-” Okuyasu grits his teeth, his voice coming out shaky, and Kakyoin frowns. Okuyasu shakes his head, looking up at Kakyoin, no longer trying to hide the shine of tears in his eyes. “But- my brother, he tried pulling the fleshbud out once, but it- it attacked him for it, so how did- how-”

Kakyoin closes his eyes, letting his head fall back and thunk against the wood. Okuyasu cuts himself off, breathing shallowly.

“It was Kujo,” Kakyoin says quietly. “Star Platinum is a precision stand. Kujo used Star Platinum to pull the fleshbud out of me.”

“Oh,” Okuyasu says, quietly. He hesitates, before uttering, “So...so it- was there nothing we could do? My brother and me?”

Kakyoin opens his eyes again, gazing at Okuyasu. He’s staring intently at Kakyoin, brows furrowed, eyes wide. Kakyoin isn’t sure what he hopes his answer will be. He swallows.

“...Probably not,” The words tumble out of Kakyoin’s mouth without his express permission, and Kakyoin almost winces at his lack of tact when Okuyasu’s shoulders drop, but he follows up with another question before Kakyoin can.

“So it- it wasn’t my- it wasn’t Keicho’s or my fault?”

Kakyoin’s own brows furrow then, something in his chest cementing in place. “No. Of course not.”

Okuyasu takes a deep breath, and Josuke squeezes his hand. Okuyasu turns and rests his head against Josuke’s shoulder. “I just-” Okuyasu elaborates, swallowing thickly, “Keicho always said- if I had just done something besides cry when dad was- was transforming, then-”

“Okuyasu, it was absolutely not your fault. If-” Kakyoin cuts himself off, roughly shaking his head to ease away the flash of anger directed at Okuyasu’s brother. “Your dad was vulnerable,” he murmurs. “It was DIO’s fault, but your dad was vulnerable to his advances. Just like…” Kakyoin squeezes his eyes shut again, hands curling into fists. “Just like I was as a kid. DIO took advantage of that...”

Kakyoin smirks bitterly, an unknown pressure pushing against his chest from the inside out. “He made it so easy to mistake his thoughts for your own.”

“Oh,” Koichi vocalizes then, and Kakyoin drags his gaze to the boy. Koichi meets his eyes unflinchingly, staring intently. “Is- is that why your stand was so nervous? When Echoes showed off its suggestion ability?”

Kakyoin’s face screws up in a grimace, and he looks down.”Look, you don’t need to psychoanalyze me, I’m fine-”

“But you’re not fine,” Josuke interjects, lip curling into a snarl. Kakyoin blinks, stunned. “Why do you keep underestimating us? Haven’t we proven ourselves reliable to you by now?”

Kakyoin blinks again, opening and closing his mouth before spitting out, “W-what?”

Josuke’s face pinches, concern and irritation dancing across his face with the tightening of his features. “I know no one likes talking about shit like this, but we can take it, okay? You don’t need to keep trying to- to censor everything from us, to make everything kid-friendly,” Josuke spits.

Kakyoin just stares before his brows furrow. “Josuke, I never-”

“Bullshit!” Josuke snaps. “You don’t want us in on stand fights, you don’t want us searching for information, and now you won’t talk to us-”

“I,” Kakyoin cuts in, voice dangerously low, “simply don’t want you making the same mistakes I did when I was 17.”

Josuke blinks, brows relaxing from their downward furrow just the tiniest bit. “What- what does that have to do with-?”

“Josuke, I wouldn’t train you at all if I thought you were unreliable -- that goes for all of you,” Kakyoin says, staring at each of his charges intently. Okuyasu can’t quite meet his gaze, but Koichi stares wide-eyed. “The reason I don’t want you throwing yourself into danger is because…”

Kakyoin sighs, closing his eyes, gesturing from the scars on his face from the fleshbud and N’Doul, all the way down to his legs. “It’s not because I think you’re incompetent, but because even with competence, there’s danger you can’t imagine out there, and I don’t want it ruining your life so soon.” Kakyoin bites his tongue for a second, before adding on quietly, “Not like it ruined me. Not like it ruined Mr. Nijimura.”

Kakyoin opens his eyes again, eyeing the trio in front of him. “But at least I got to learn. I got a second chance. And so I’m…” Kakyoin takes another breath. “I’m trying to help you three to learn as well, without having to take the same risks I did.” Without making the same mistakes I did.

“Oh,” Josuke breathes, face dropping. “I- I’m sorry.”

Kakyoin shakes his head, sighing. “No, don’t. I would’ve felt the same if I were in your shoes.” Kakyoin huffs, blowing a strand of hair away from his face. “It’s just- there’s no reason a standuser kid should ever be in the same position I was. That’s all.”

Josuke swallows thickly, lips pressed into a line. “That may be true…but you can still trust us, Mr. Kakyoin,” he protests quietly. “Just knowing things won’t put us in danger. We can handle it.”

Kakyoin shakes his head. “Just because you can handle it doesn’t mean you should.”

Josuke frowns deep enough for creases to form on the corners of his mouth, but he says nothing more and instead scoots forward. Kakyoin raises a brow at him, but it doesn’t stop Josuke from settling next to his side, leaning against Kakyoin gingerly.

Kakyoin snorts at him, but he lifts an arm, and Josuke ducks under it easily. Okuyasu follows easily after Josuke, heading to Kakyoin’s other side.

Koichi fidgets on his side of the hallway for a moment before Kakyoin sighs.

“Koichi,” Kakyoin calls, “Come on.”

With permission explicitly granted, Koichi follows suit, settling next to Okuyasu’s side.

Kakyoin sighs, leaning his head against the second-floor railing of the filthy house, squeezing the teenagers wrapped around him. It’s as comforting for me as it is for them. He purses his lips at the thought.

It’s quiet for several moments, the only sound being the occasional creak of the wood. Kakyoin closes his eyes.

“...Sorry,” He eventually murmurs, “for freaking out like that in front of you all.”

Koichi, Okuyasu, and Josuke all hum in varying tones. “You don’t need to apologize Mr. Kakyoin,” Okuyasu replies. “I think…anyone would react the same way, if they were in your shoes.”

Kakyoin huffs out a small, half-hearted laugh. “Maybe.”

“We’ll be okay,” Josuke pipes up, and Kakyoin smiles then, small, but there.

“Of course, kid.” I’ll make sure of it.

Chapter Text

Kakyoin awakens to a knock at his door.

At first, he isn’t sure if he dreamed it or not, eyes squinting open as warm yellow light streams in through his window. Hierophant slowly unravels from where it was strung about the room, returning to Kakyoin, gently passing him his glasses from the nightstand as he does.

“Thanks,” Kakyoin murmurs, slowly sitting up so as not to anger his spine, his hair falling in rivets around his head.

Another knock comes, and Kakyoin jumps, blinking, before he frowns. Who could that be? I haven’t told Josuke and co what room I’m staying in…

Kakyoin hums, slowly sliding out of bed and into his wheelchair, adjusting his seating. Then again, the desk attendant might be able to just give that information out… Kakyoin hums. Should probably tell them I don’t want them to be so flippant…

Another knock, this one harsher against the wood, sounding out clearer in the room. Kakyoin rolls his eyes before heading to the door.

“Yeah, yeah, what is it-”

Kakyoin opens the door to see Jotaro standing on the other side.

“Kakyoin,” Jotaro says, voice deep but tone smooth, staring down at him. “C-”

Kakyoin slams the door in his face, wheeling around to head back to his bed.

Jotaro just knocks again, a muffled, exasperated groan of “Kakyoin” echoing from the door, and Kakyoin clenches his teeth, turning back around and whipping the door open again.

“What the hell do you want?” Kakyoin snarls. Jotaro doesn’t even flinch, staring down at Kakyoin with a bored gaze, expression flat and void.

“Kakyoin,” He greets again, and Kakyoin grits his teeth, shoulders tensing as the syllables of his own name rock against his skull. “Can you come with me?”

Kakyoin blinks, the roar of the fire steadily burning in his gut suddenly muted. “What?”

Jotaro remains calm as ever, and it pisses Kakyoin off, fingers twitching, dying to curl around the fabric of his coat as he throttles him. “Can you come wi-”

“Where? Actually, better question, why?”

Jotaro swallows, glancing around Kakyoin’s room before his gaze returns to his face. “I can explain when we get there.”

Kakyoin can’t help but bark out a laugh, the sound coming right from his chest, passionate and mean. “Yeah, that’s not good enough, Kujo. I’m not some dog that comes trotting along at your comma-”

“Kakyoin,” Jotaro sighs exasperatedly, an edge to his voice, and Kakyoin’s vision fades to red, “This isn’t about you. Can you just c-”

“Who the hell do you think you are, telling me what to do?” Kakyoin snarls, rolling forward suddenly. His front wheel jams into Jotaro’s foot, and while it was accidental, Kakyoin can’t help the cruel satisfaction, hot and tight in his chest, he feels over it.

Jotaro doesn’t vocalize, simply flinches as he jerks his foot away and backs off from the advancing Kakyoin. “I’m jus-”

“You don’t get to order me anywhere,” Kakyoin spits, and Jotaro grits his teeth, glaring at Kakyoin from under his hat.

“Would you just fucking listen to me for once?” Jotaro snaps. “This isn’t about you or me, it’s about-” Jotaro freezes abruptly, eyes darting about, and Kakyoin blinks, hair rising on the back of his neck.

“What? What is it?” Kakyoin asks, rolling forward again, this time to accommodate whispering rather than to roll over Jotaro’s foot.

“We can’t talk here,” Jotaro murmurs, gaze returning to Kakyoin’s face once again. “Will you come with me to where we can?”

Kakyoin swallows, eyes darting across Jotaro’s face, over his thick brows and square jaw and blue – always so blue, even under the shadow of his hat – eyes.

“Okay,” Kakyoin breathes, giving in, and Jotaro’s shoulders slump just the slightest bit.

“Okay,” Jotaro echoes, before blinking when Kakyoin turns around, heading back to his room. “Uh…Kakyoin-”

“You woke me,” Kakyoin explains, glancing at Jotaro flatly. “I need to get dressed. I’ll just be a second.”

Jotaro blinks before ducking his head, a hand coming up to tug the brim of his hat down. “Oh.”

Kakyoin rolls his eyes, gnawing at the inside of his cheek. Dumbass…

He sighs, shaking his head as Hierophant spreads about the room, grabbing Kakyoin’s shoes, scarf, cardigan, and hair tie. Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.

They eventually come to a stop out in the field near where Kakyoin trains Josuke, Okuyasu, and Koichi, and it makes him distantly wonder if maybe Jotaro is intending to talk to him about that.

But Jotaro says nothing; just leads the way, occasionally glancing back at Kakyoin. It makes Kakyoin scowl each time he catches it.

When Kakyoin had rolled out the door of his room, dressed and ready to go, Jotaro had started reaching for the handlebars of Kakyoin’s wheelchair. Kakyoin had jerked away from the attempt, before hissing to Jotaro in no uncertain terms that if he dared to try and touch Kakyoin’s wheelchair again, he was going to slice his legs off and make him need one himself.

Since then, Jotaro has not gone to touch the chair, much to Kakyoin’s pleasure; but he keeps glancing back at him as if expecting him to have fallen behind, much to Kakyoin’s disdain.

Kakyoin sighs, shaking his head. “You secure enough to tell me why you dragged me out here yet?”

Jotaro glances back at him but says nothing. Kakyoin scowls.

“Would it kill you to be transparent with me-”

“Mr. Kakyoin?”

Kakyoin snaps his jaw shut, jerking his head past Jotaro’s imposing figure.

There, at the crest of a small rise in the field, are Josuke, Okuyasu, and Koichi gathered in a small circle. Okuyasu is leaning against a blue motorbike at the base of the mound, hands in his pockets, but he straightens when he catches sight of Kakyoin.

Josuke was the one who has called, looking down at Jotaro and Kakyoin as they approach. Kakyoin blinks before wheeling past Jotaro, heading up the small mound.

“Josuke? What are you all doing here? Kakyoin asks as he makes it to the top.

“We could ask you the same thing,” Josuke says, nodding at Kakyoin in greeting. “Mr. Jotaro called and asked me to bring Okuyasu and Koichi, but I had no idea he was bringing you, too.”

Kakyoin blinks before he turns back to Jotaro with narrowed eyes. Jotaro has also now made it to the top of the small mound, and he meets Kakyoin’s gaze evenly, with a stern, serious expression. Kakyoin avoids the urge to roll his eyes, instead gritting his teeth.

“Why are you dragging the kids into whatever this is?” Kakyoin hisses, and Josuke scowls while Jotaro just shakes his head.

“‘This’ isn’t anything,” Jotaro answers, “I’m just delivering some news.”

“And you had to drag everyone out here for that because?” Kakyoin snarks, rolling his eyes. Jotaro’s face pinches, mouth tightening in a small frown.

“Because it’s about the search for Red Hot Chili Pepper; we needed to get away from electricity.”

Kakyoin blinks, before the heat of embarrassment floods through his chest, racing up his neck to his face. “Oh. Right.”

Okuyasu’s face pinches at the mention of his brother’s killer, hands clenching into fists. Kakyoin eyes this, frowning. Josuke places a hand on his friend’s shoulder before turning back to Jotaro.

“Uh, so…Mr. Jotaro?”

Jotaro sighs, shaking his head and pulling his hat over his eyes. “Good grief…” He mutters, and Kakyoin turns narrowed eyes to him. “Why don’t you start, Josuke?” Jotaro says, louder.

…Huh?

Kakyoin turns to Josuke then, as do Okuyasu and Koichi. Josuke blinks, before nodding.

“Right, um- Red Hot Chili Pepper attacked me last night-”

“What?!” Kakyoin and Okuyasu cry at the same time, Koichi stiffening as he looks Josuke up and down for any previously unnoticed injuries.

“It- it’s fine- he was just…testing me out, I guess.” Josuke’s face curves into a sneer, then. “He was just using me as a measurement for how much he’s grown, to see if he could take on Mr. Jotaro or Mr. Kakyoin yet.”

Kakyoin blinks. “He did what?” He shakes his head, rolling forward. “Are you okay?”

Josuke nods, shoulders slightly dropping from their tensed state. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Great,” Kakyoin says, his tone switching to something a little sharper, “I’m glad. Why didn’t you tell me, then?”

Josuke blinks, stiffening again, gaze darting behind Kakyoin – to Jotaro, Kakyoin notes.

Kakyoin’s eye twitches and he wheels right back around to Jotaro, teeth already bared. “Kujo-”

“I told him not to tell anyone,” Jotaro says, voice even despite Kakyoin glaring daggers at him, “for the same reason I had us all meet out here. Red Hot Chili Pepper can’t know what we know. It was already dangerous enough for Josuke to have called me.”

Fury broils in Kakyoin’s chest as he stares up heatedly at Jotaro from beneath his glare. “Are you- you seriously told a teenager to keep quiet about being attacked? Did you forget he can’t heal himself? Huh?”

Jotaro frowns sharps, opening his mouth to respond, when Okuyasu snarls suddenly, kicking the ground at his feet. Grass is ripped up from the earth, floating back down gently, contrasting to how violently they were thrown up.

“Okuyasu?” Koichi questions, turning to his friend in concern. Okuyasu just grits his teeth, shoving his balled hands into his pockets.

“I cannot believe that bastard,” Okuyaus spits. “Attacking Josuke…and I didn’t even know until now.”

Guilt flashes across Josuke’s face, brows furrowing upward. “Okuyasu, I-”

“I understand feeling uneasy over not knowing,” Jotaro cuts in, and Kakyoin just rolls his eyes – Sure you do, you nosy, arrogant- – “but it was my call; I’d prefer anger to Red Hot Chili Pepper doing to any of you what he did to your brother, Okuyasu. Blame me if you need to.”

Kakyoin blinks. …Accountability? From Kujo?

Okuyasu just shakes his head.

“No, Mr. Jotaro. I understand your reasoning.” Okuyasu barks out a laugh, but it's completely humorless. Kakyoin wonders if he’s rubbed off on him. “I just…” Okuyasu clenches his jaw again, shoulders tensing even more, hiking up his neck, “I’m so sick of this bastard. I want him dead.”

Jotaro’s face relaxes just a bit, brows softening. “I know. But that’s why we’re here.”

Kakyoin whips his head back to him. “Wh- do you- did you figure out his identity?”

Jotaro sighs, once more hiding behind the brim of his hat. “No. But…”

Jotaro swallows thickly, glancing up to meet Kakyoin’s gaze, before jerking over to the forms of Josuke, Okuyasu, and Koichi.

“Someone who can figure it out is on his way. He’ll be arriving soon – noon today, actually.”

Okuyasu blinks, eyes widening. “Wh- who? Who is it? Is it a standuser?”

Jotaro sighs, shaking his head, mouthing tightening into a thin line. Kakyoin narrows his eyes at this.

“Yes,” Jotaro confirms, glancing at Kakyoin. “His stand’s name is Hermit Purple.”

Kakyoin blinks. “Joseph?!”

Josuke jerks as if physically struck, pompadour bouncing as his jaw drops open. “My dad?!”

Jotaro just sighs. “I didn’t want him to come…he’s too old-”

“Why didn’t he tell me he was coming?” Kakyoin cuts in, glaring up at Jotaro with wide eyes. “Did you tell him not to talk to me too?”

Jotaro pauses a touch too long. Something explodes in Kakyoin’s chest, a barrel of gasoline shooting outward.

“Are you fucking seri-”

“Kakyoin,” Jotaro snaps, turning tired eyes his way. Kakyoin snarls, but the shock over Jotaro finally, finally snapping back at him keeps him from saying anything. “Yes, I told him not to tell you, for the same reason I told Josuke not to tell you about the fight – because Red Hot Chili Pepper could be monitoring the call. He can’t know Joseph’s comi-”

“Then how the hell did you know, huh? Are you so sure about this damn rule or is it just because it’s me-”

“ I know because I talked to Speedwagon Foundation agents out near the beach for weeks to schedule it,” Jotaro barks, and Kakyoin shuts his mouth, teeth grinding together harshly, his jaw aching. “It’s not about you or me, I already told you thi-”

“Oh, please, as if it’s not about you withholding knowledge I have a right to know again! Is this amusing to you, you sic-”

“Um,” Josuke roughly clears his throat, and embarrassment spreads throughout Kakyoin like a soft drink exploding, carbonation rattling at his tissues. “Sorry, but can we get back to the topic at hand? If he’s coming at noon, we should get to the docks soon…”

Jotaro blinks before his shoulders slump a bit in relief. “Yes. Right.” Kakyoin growls at him, something primal and rough ripping from his throat unevenly, making Jotaro dart his gaze his way.

“This conversation is not done,” Kakyoin seethes, before he turns his back to him, rolling to settle near Okuyasu.

Josuke glances at Kakyoin with a furrowed brow, concerned, but Kakyoin just ducks under the gaze.

“...Right,” Jotaro echoes again, voice fainter than the snarl it had been, before he shakes his head and turns to Josuke.

“I’ve gathered everyone because we need to protect the old man while he’s here.” Jotaro hesitates, looking down, face pinching. “He’s…not what he used to be. He wouldn’t be able to hold himself in a fight if Red Hot Chili Pepper got to him.”

Kakyoin can’t help but roll his eyes at Jotaro’s words, even if he did agree. Where does he get off determining who can and can’t fight?

“How old is he?” Koichi questions and Jotaro sighs again.

“79.”

“79?!” Koichi, Josuke, and Okuyasu echo, and part of Kakyoin’s mood does lift at the shock in their voices, snickering lightly into his palm.

“Um- are we sure he can help us?” Josuke asks, and Jotaro shrugs, muttering.

“Good grief… He…insisted, when he found out about the stand arrow. Travel across the ocean is hard for a man his age, but he didn’t care.”

Kakyoin rolls his eyes again. “Hard doesn’t mean impossible, Kujo, so maybe stop underestimating him.”

Jotaro frowns, but when he opens his mouth to respond, the motorbike at the base of the hill kicks out smoke from its exhaust pipe, engine whirring to life. It almost sounds like the growl Kakyoin had let out earlier…

Kakyoin’s blood runs cold. “Um- is that thing battery-run or-”

Kakyoin doesn’t need to wait for an answer. Sparks shoot out, lines of electricity arcing and banding together, until a short, yellow, humanoid figure with a beak and tail appears on the bike with a smug smile.

“You idiots,” coos a voice Kakyoin has only heard on the phone thus far, “thanks for giving me a heads up.”

“Red Hot Chili Pepper,” Okuyasu exclaims softly, and Kakyoin shoots a glance at him. He’s shaking, eyes wide in shock but brows starting to furrow in rage, fingers curling, but not balling into outright fists. Kakyoin’s own brow furrows even as panic shoots through his chest. He wheels forward, putting himself between the bike and the boys, shoving Koichi behind him as he does.

“How!?” Koichi yelps as he’s moved, “How did-”

“The battery,” Jotaro thinks aloud, voice heightening in panic, “he must have snuck inside the battery while the bike was charging,”

“How did he know to do that thou-?!” Kakyoin cries frustratedly before Red Hot Chili Pepper interrupts.

“The harbor at noon, right? Man, I got super lucky with how much you flapped your gums about!” Red Hot Chili Pepper cackles as he revs the engine of the bike. “I’ll kill him when he arrives!”

And with that, Red Hot Chili Pepper shoots off like a bullet, the bike’s engine roaring as it speeds away.

“Hurry!” Jotaro barks as he begins taking off after the bike, “he’ll reach the docks before us at this rate!”

“That son of a bitch!” Okuyasu snarls, and Kakyoin just barely bites back a yelp as Okuyasu surges forward, jostling his wheelchair as he does so.

“Okuyasu-!”

Okuyasu doesn’t reply, just widens his stance as he summons his stand. “I’ll kill him before he can kill anyone else, dammit!”

Kakyoin is only just able to graze his fingertips along Okuyasu’s uniform before The Hand arcs its palm downward, erasing a chunk of space between Okuyasu and Red Hot Chili Pepper, shooting him forward across the grassland.

“Shit!” Kakyoin curses, Hierophant erupting as a series of tentacles around him, hefting him up off the ground. “Okuaysu! Stop! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

“Mr. Kakyoin!” Koichi yelps, but Kakyoin just snarls, shaking his head as Hierophant begins marching forward, the long tentacles being able to take long, steady strides.

“Just- just- follow Kujo!” Kakyoin shouts back before chasing after Okuyasu, Hierophant’s tentacles acting like long horse legs to catch up to the pair.

They easily overtake Jotaro’s sprinting, and Kakyoin only meets Jotaro’s wide gaze for a moment. He feels a minor flash of pride over the shock on Jotaro’s face, but it’s a spark buried in the icy water of panic that makes up his chest.

Okuyasu…please don’t hurt yourself over a grudge!

Okuyasu lands on the back of the bike’s seat, Red Hot Chili Pepper whipping his head back to stare at him. Kakyoin grits his teeth and wills Hierophant to move faster, dammit, Okuyasu-!

“Smart!” Kakyoin can hear Red Hot Chili Pepper snark as he gets closer, the stand easing on the accelerator as he turns his attention to Okuyasu. “I’ve got to hand it to you, haha! Maybe your brother was wrong about you being a dunce!”

Okuyasu snarls, the sound animalistic and coming right from his throat, echoing along Kakyoin’s bones. “Shut the hell up!” he seethes, The Hand raising its arm again before arcing sharply downward.

However, Red Hot Chili Pepper easily moves out of the way, cackling as he does. Kakyoin grits his teeth even tighter, his jaw aching, the bones letting out a soft click of protest. “Nice try! But you’re too slow, ‘Yasu,” He chides, like Okuyasu was his own little brother, and Kakyoin can see Okuyasu’s shoulders rear up at the nickname.

“ Okuyas-!!” Kakyoin cuts himself off, however, when the bike suddenly spins out and crashes, the thick, burning scent of gasoline filling the air.

“I wasn’t aiming for you, asshole!!” Okuyasu growls, rolling out the momentum of the bike with his stand, Kakyoin almost caught up at this point. “I was aiming for the damn bike. Now you have nowhere to run,” Okuyasu spits.

Kakyoin blinks, pride snapping hot and fluid in his chest, releasing his heart from the chains of the intense dread just moments before.

Red Hot Chili Pepper is not as lucky with the landing, forced to go flying with the only source of electricity in the area, skidding along the ground, ripping up grass and dirt. “Shit! Shit!”

“No more running away,” Okuyasu snarls. “How far can you stray from the bike’s battery? It was suicide for you to have come out here with no escape route!”

Hierophant takes one more stride forward before dropping Kakyoin down next to Okuyasu, Kakyoin grimacing down at Red Hot Chili Pepper.

Kakyoin drags his gaze over to Okuyasu, however, eyes relaxing from their narrowed state. “Good job, Okuyasu,” Kakyoin says, and Okuyasu jerks, head whipping up, as if not realizing Kakyoin was chasing after them. Kakyoin smothers a snort with a cough.

“This was smart of you,” Kakyoin clarifies. Okuyasu just shrugs, not otherwise responding to the praise, whichs makes Kakyoin frowns. Before he can address it, Okuyasu turns back to Red Hot Chili Pepper.

Red Hot Chili Pepper glowers up at Okuyasu with narrowed eyes. Kakyoin’s frown sharpens, and he rolls forward a little more, just a touch between Okuyasu and the stand.

“Is this to avenge Keicho?” Red Hot Chili Pepper spits and Kakyoin reflexively puts out an arm to stop Okuyasu from charging – but it’s not needed. Okuyasu stays stony-faced, glaring down at Red Hot Chili Pepper with wide eyes, the sun behind him, masking his face in a shadow. The Hand anchors down next to its user, staring, as cold as the metal of its armor.

“No,” Okuyasu says lowly, voice even, if gruff. Kakyoin glances back at him. “I always knew that the arrow business would get him killed. You don’t play with people’s lives like that without your own joining the game.”

Okuyasu’s fingers curl into fists, shaking with the tension before he lets them drop, too slow to be genuine relaxation. “Karma’s a bitch like that, y’see?”

The threat behind Okuyasu’s words is clear, and Red Hot Chili Pepper hunches a little lower, glare sharpening. If he was a real bird, Kakyoin’s sure he would’ve tried to peck Okuyasu by now.

“Tell me your name,” Okuyasu bargains, “and where you live, and maybe I won’t kill you.”

Red Hot Chili Pepper’s glare shifts to more of a grimace, brows furrowing up the slightest bit, mouth curling down at the edges. “Really, now? You’ll spare me, even when I killed your brother?”

“I said maybe,” Okuyasu snaps, and Kakyoin bites his tongue, Hierophant curling anxiously in his chest. He rolls forward some more, further jutting himself between the two.

Red Hot Chili Pepper waves a hand, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t mean to insult your offer. I just didn’t expect such cool-headedness from you,”

Okuyasu’s eyes narrow at the double-handed compliment, but before he can say anything, Kakyoin snarls, rolling forward even more.

“Oh, shut up,” Kakyoin snarks, “like you get to talk to anyone about cool-headedness. You’re supposedly a grown adult, yet you’re attacking teenagers to ‘test your strength’; are you sure you’re not a middle schooler-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Red Hot Chili Pepper snarls, sparks fizzing off his form, and Kakyoin can’t help but smirk over getting under his skin, satisfaction thrumming high in his chest.

Kakyoin jumps when Okuyasu places a hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine,” He murmurs. Kakyoin sets his jaw stiffly, grinding his teeth together.

Dropping his hand, Okuyasu turns his gaze back to Red Hot Chili Pepper, nose crinkling with fury. “Don’t get me wrong; I want nothing more than to just erase you, here and now,” he snarls lowly, like the growl of a bear. “But-”

“Ha!” Red Hot Chili Pepper scoffs, “I thought so. But you’re too slow to erase me, even like this!” The stand shrugs, shaking his head. “Honestly, this is more boring than nervewracking. At least when I killed Keicho, my heart was pounding!”

“You bitch-!” Okuyasu spits, but Kakyoin dives forward, making Okuyasu stumble right into his wheelchair, Hierophant whipping out and wrapping around Okuyasu’s waist to keep him from moving further.

“Okuyasu, don’t,” Kakyoin hisses, “he’s trying to get under your skin. Don’t let him.”

Okuyasu blinks, slowly relaxing in Hierophant’s hold, while Red Hot Chili Pepper tsks, making Kakyoin drag his narrowed gaze toward him.

“No sense of fun, Mr. Kakyoin,” The stand sighs, “you really are a stick in the mud. But at least you’re close enough if you won’t let Okuyasu be,”

Kakyoin blinks. “Wha-”

Red Hot Chili Pepper launches forward, and Kakyoin only has time to command Hierophant to let go of Okuyasu now now NOW before the stand makes contact, reaching out to grip Kakyoin by the ribs.

Kakyoin’s spine only just begins to complain when his entire nervous system lights up, burning, like he had just caught fire from the inside out, flames billowing and brushing against his skin, his lungs, his spine, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, he has metal in his spine and he is being electrocuted-

The sensation is stopped just as abruptly as it begins, and Kakyoin falls, muscles twitching, unable to control himself as he slips out of his wheelchair, vision blinking in and out like a shitty light as his glasses fall away from his face.

Past the ringing in his ears, Kakyoin can hear a distant, high, panicked shriek of “KAKYOIN!!” and he dazedly wonders, When did the kids forgo the ‘Mister’?

Everything falls to static, then, and Kakyoin can’t hear or see or smell anything, just feel the faint pressure of the ground against his side as he lies, twitching, and the pins and needles going up and down his limbs. He isn’t sure if he passes out completely or not, but he floats in limbo regardless, aftershocks zipping through his system, getting excited where the metal in his spine is, causing pain to burst like multiple, localized explosions from the spot.

When Kakyoin’s hearing fades back in, he can make out repeated stomping, the vibrations echoing throughout the ground. That must be what woke me up…

Kakyoin coughs, something the muscles in his chest greatly disapprove of, pain whipping back along the fibers, and Kakyoin curls inward, clenching a fistful of grass, teeth gritting.

“BASTARD! Not so fast now, are you?” He can hear Okuyaus snarl, and Kakyoin snaps his eyes open, only for the light of the world to rush in, searing his retinas like the electricity seared his spine, and he closes his eyes again, teeth grinding together. Shit. Shit. What is Okuyasu doing?

He snaps his eyes open again, only to see Red Hot Chili Pepper, its color faded to a yellowish, rusty brown, a handful of meters away from Kakyoin. He’s been cornered away from the motorbike while Kakyoin had blacked out, The Hand flexing its right hand menacingly, Okuyasu snarling down at the stand.

Kakyoin blinks, brows furrowing. Oh…is Okuyasu winning?

He slowly shifts to sit up, gritting his teeth as his spine shrieks at him for it. Fuck , that was going to hurt tomorrow. And the day after.

“Okuyasu!” Kakyoin can hear, and he sloppily whips his head over his shoulder to see Jotaro, Josuke, and Koichi only twenty or so meters away, the distance ever decreasing with their sprinting. “Don’t finish him off yet! Wait until we get there!”

Kakyoin blinks, brows furrowing. Why wait? Why…

Kakyoin’s eyes slide down to the ground, only to see the marks in the earth The Hand erased, and he’s reminded of electricity grids. Oh, shit-

“Ok-” Kakyoin’s voice cracks, his throat dry after the electrocution, and he winces, bringing a hand up to his neck. Okuyasu and Red Hot Chili Pepper snap both their gazes to him. Kakyoin swallows, glowering, as he grips fistfuls of grass and pulls himself to his knees. Ow, ow, ow, ow-

Red Hot Chili Pepper laughs then, whipping its head to Okuyasu. “Are you sure you wanna wait? I only need one more hit to finish off Mr. Kakyoin,” He snarks, and Kakyoin tries to laugh, because honestly, how pathetic is it to refuse to admit defeat, but it comes out as more of a wheeze, and Okuyasu’s eyes widen in panic. Oh, shit, shit, shit, I am not going to be used as a bargaining chip, fuck you-

“Okuyasu!!” Josuke yells desperately, “You need to wait! We need to get him to tell us where the stand arrow is-!”

Josuke’s too far, though, his voice only a suggestion against Red Hot Chili Pepper’s threat. Kakyoin snarls, hefting himself up so he’s standing on his knees. “Okuyasu, don’t-”

“Just one more hit and he’s dead like your brother!” Red Hot Chili Pepper snarks, “One more hit and he’s dead for trying to protect you, just like Keicho!”

As he says this, Red Hot Chili Pepper raises his hands as he turns to stare Kakyoin down again, as if aiming, even though Kakyoin knows he’s out of the stand’s reach – but Okuyasu lets out a roar as The Hand arcs down again, and Kakyoin can only gape, heart stuttering low in his chest, as Red Hot Chili Pepper only just dodges the attack, leaving the earth to open up and metal piping to be exposed. No, shit-

“HA!” Red Hot Chili Pepper more shrieks than laughs, pointing at Okuyasu as its yellow color fades back into its body, switching sources from the bike’s battery to the electricity grid that has now been exposed. “I really was weak, you know! The bike only had 12 volts, after all…”

Kakyoin blinks, and suddenly Red Hot Chili Pepper is in front of Okuyasu, smiling widely. “But now, I run on enough to power an entire city! All thanks to you!” Red Hot Chili Pepper rears its hand back then, clearly preparing to strike, and Kakyoin’s eyes widen. “It’s a good thing I spent so long memorizing Morioh’s electricity grid, and it’s a good thing you’re so stupid!”

Kakyoin jerks forward, rushing on his knees toward the pair despite the pain arcing up and down his back, making his shoulders twitch uncontrollably, gasping. “Oku- Okuyasu-!”

Red Hot Chili Pepper moves too fast for Kakyoin to see – all he knows is somehow, Red Hot Chili Pepper is suddenly behind Okuyasu, and Okuyasu is screaming, falling to his knees as blood gushes out of the stump where his hand used to be.

“OKUYASU!!” Kakyoin screams, distantly registering Koichi and Josuke screaming along with him, before Red Hot Chili Pepper grabs Okuyasu by the throat, sneering.

“Keicho said you were such a hindrance – he was right! You can’t do anything!” He says, before laughing as he glows brighter, the sound echoing in Kakyoin’s own skull.

Oh, I fucking hate overconfident yellow pricks-

“OKUYASU!” Kakyoin shrieks again before Hierophant bursts out of his chest, tentacles whipping forward and wrapping tightly around Okuyasu, snatching him away from Red Hot Chili Pepper’s grip and back towards safety, towards Kakyoin.

Red Hot Chili Pepper blinks, surprised, and Kakyoin just snarls, sending more tentacles after him.

“Not dealing with that!” Red Hot Chili Pepper declares, before winking at Kakyoin. “Don’t worry; I’ll just sate my bloodlust by killing Joseph Joestar instead! See ya!”

And with that, he darts down into the electricity grid, Hierophant’s tentacles only just missing him.

Kakyoin growls, muscles shuddering and twitching due to both rage and the still-lingering aftershocks, before he lets out a roar, Hierohpant’s tentacles furiously ripping at the grass in reflection of it.

“Dammit! Dammit!”

“OKUYASU!”

Koichi skids to a stop beside the pair, and Kakyoin considers only for a moment before he retracts the tentacles around Okuyasu, allowing Koichi to see his friend.

“I- I-” Koichi’s hands flutter, wanting to help his friend but not knowing how, when he catches glimpse of Okuyasu’s stump for the first time, blood and muscle and fat and bone exposed. “Shit!” He cries, face paling at the gore.

Josuke finally catches up then, immediately dropping to his knees to stop his momentum, staring with wide eyes at Okuyasu’s lack of a hand, pompadour bouncing.

Okuyasu lets Josuke take hold of his arm and jerk it forward while he stares down at the ground, and Kakyoin distantly thinks he must be in shock, he needs to go to the hospital, holy shit, he lost a hand, he-

“Kakyoin,” Jotaro’s voice abruptly sounds from beside Kakyion, his hands gently coming to rest at his shoulder and back, and Kakyoin twitches so violently away from Jotaro’s grasp his spine cracks.

“SHIT!” Kakyoin howls, pain flaring across his entire spinal column, fire and electricity and lava splashing, burning, spreading, a fever, a virus, his nerves were being eaten alive-

“Ka- Josuke!” Jotaro barks, “Heal him! Heal Kakyoin!”

Kakyoin blinks rapidly just so he can properly glower at Jotaro, gripping fistfuls of grass even from his spot against the ground that he can’t get up from, it hurts so fucking bad, fuck-

“Are you SERIOUS, KUJO?!” Kakyoin roars, and Jotaro jerks his gaze to Kakyoin, eyes wide and confused, brows furrowed intensely, mouth in a tight frown.

“What the hell are you-”

“What the hell are you doing?!” Kakyoin seethes, shoulders so tense due to the pain he thinks his head will pop off, “Okuyasu’s the one who got his hand cut off! What the hell are you doing babying me?!”

“You- you-” Jotaro glares, teeth peeking out at Kakyoin from his snarl, and Kakyoin’s heart begins thudding, excitement and fury rushing through his veins, making it easier to ignore the absolute temper tantrum his spine was throwing on his nerves. “You got electrocuted, are you fucking with me? Are you seriously mad at me for- for being worried you got electro-”

“Yes!” Kakyoin snaps, chucking some of his ripped-up grass at Jotaro like a child, “because one of the kids under our watch got hurt! He’s of higher priority!”

Jotaro rolls his eyes viciously, advancing toward Kakyoin angrily, steps too fluid to be anything but calculated, and Kakyoin can’t help but feel like prey, scrambling up despite his spine shooting pain throughout his entire system like fireworks being set off all at once. “So what, am I just supposed to not care at all? Are you sure you wouldn’t get mad about that, either? Because it seems more like you get pissy about anything I do rather than-”

“ SHUT UP!” Josuke shouts, making Kakyoin and Jotaro freeze, “oh my god, shut up! Are you two serious?!”

Kakyoin blinks rapidly, turning to face Josuke. He’s glowering at the pair, Crazy Diamond next to him with Okuyasu’s wrist clasped in its hands, a pink glow surrounding them. Oh, Kakyoin breathes out, his stomach abruptly feeling like soft skin again and not a knot of metal, that’s right. Crazy Diamond. He’ll be okay.

“Okuyasu just got his hand cut off, and you two are bitching at each other?!” Josuke snaps, glowing at Kakyoin and Jotaro from under his pompadour.

Kakyoin scowls, opening his mouth to retort, because it’s not bitching, he’s just as concerned about Okuyasu, obviously, it’s why he’s so angry with Jotaro, but Josuke just shakes his head, growling, before he turns his gaze back to Okuyasu for a moment, lingering, then getting up and heading toward Kakyoin.

Kakyoin blinks. “Uh-”

“Oh, shut up,” Josuke snaps, Crazy Diamond’s hands reaching for Kakyoin, and Kakyoin can’t help that he winces as they draw near, arms darting down toward his stomach.

Jotaro stiffens beside him and Josuke pauses, before dismissing Crazy Diamond, instead overlaying his stand’s hands on top of his own and reaching toward Kakyoin himself. He says nothing as he does this. Kakyoin keeps his mouth shut too, lips pressed into a thin line.

Josuke’s fingertips graze against Kakyoin’s chest, and suddenly warmth fills the cavity like he’d taken a shot of alcohol – but it was less burning, less sharp, more like a space heater had been placed inside of him. It spreads easily from his ribs to his spine, down to comfort the shortcircuited metal, and Kakyoin blinks, shoulders slumping unconsciously. Jotaro lets out a small breath beside him.

Josuke gnaws on his lip, before moving his hands away. Kakyoin lets out a sharp exhale, shaking his head as the warmth fades and the usual dull ache returns.

Josuke turns back to Okuyasu, trotting the few steps to return to his side. Koichi is talking quietly with him, but Kakyoin can’t hear what he’s saying; he just knows Okuyasu is still staring at the ground regardless, like he’s not hearing him, either.

When Josuke returns to his side, Okuyasu blinks, looking up at him. Josuke offers him a hand, but Okuyasu just drops his gaze, eyes straying over to Kakyoin.

“Mr. Kakyoin,” he croaks, “I’m so sorry.”

Kakyoin blinks. “W- for what?”

Okuyasu’s face pinches, gaze dropping from Kakyoin’s. “I- If I had just- used my head- you wouldn’t have- Red Hot Chili Pepper wouldn’t ha-”

“Hey,” Kakyoin cuts off, gingerly sitting up to move forward. When his spine doesn’t scream at the motion, he continues forward until he’s close enough to pat Okuyasu’s shoulder. “Hey,” he repeats, “none of that. It’s not your fault that Red Hot Chili Pepper’s a crazy bastard.”

Okuyasu shakes his head, brows furrowed in desperation. “No- I could’ve- you were telling me exactly what I had to do and I still didn’t liste-”

“Because you’re a good kid,” Kakyoin interjects, “he was using that against you.” Kakyoin pauses, before he sneers, nose crinkling in fury. “He used me against you. He’s not going to live long enough to regret it, I can promise you that.”

Okuyasu blinks before his gaze lowers. Josuke and Koichi exchange glances before Koichi stands back up.

“Come on, Okuyasu,” Koichi murmurs then, offering Okuyasu his hand, “just like I told you: we’ll be able to fight with clearer heads if we focus on protecting Mr. Joestar, rather than things like revenge or winning.”

Okuyasu’s brows furrow as he stares at Koichi’s hand, before his face smooths out, and, eyes lowered, takes it and stands back up. Kakyoin sighs, calling Hierophant to go and grab his wheelchair, wherever it ended up…

“Fight to protect something, huh?” Jotaro mutters then, and Kakyoin's eyes narrow reflexively, turning to snap something, but Josuke glares viciously at him and Kakyoin pauses, tongue stilling.

Jotaro turns to address the group, face grim, shadows around the corners of his mouth. “We need to get to the old man’s boat before Red Hot Chili Pepper does.”

Josuke blinks, before he nods, face hardening. “We’re close enough to the harbor; if Red Hot Chili Pepper is traveling through the electricity grid, he’ll have to take the long way. We can still get there in time.”

Jotaro nods, gesturing towards him. “Lead the way, then.”

Josuke swallows thickly, glancing back at Okuyasu. Okuyasu doesn’t meet his gaze, still staring down at the ground like the blades of grass are the most beautiful things he’s seen – or maybe the worst, considering his tight expression…

Hierophant gently lifts Kakyoin up, then, and Kakyoin lets himself hang like a ragdoll in his stand’s tentacles as they set him back down in his wheelchair. He winces as something pops in his spine, but it doesn’t crack and light up with pain like a glowstick this time, so Kakyoin will take it. Jotaro frowns at him and Kakyoin feels the urge to snap his teeth at him like a shark.

“It’s not enough to just be better than myself,” Okuyasu says suddenly. Kakyoin’s gaze snaps to him while Koichi looks up at his friend, brows furrowed. “I need to be better than Keicho, too.” He raises his gaze then, meeting Koichi’s eyes. “...You’re right, Koichi,” he says, “violence begets violence, right? So, I should make my motivation something that doesn’t focus on violence…right?”

Koichi smiles then, nodding. Kakyoin says nothing. Josuke stares at his friend as Okuyasu takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“Alright,” Okuyasu says before his face pulls back into a sneer. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

The sun beats down harshly, heated rays cradling Kakyoin’s face like Jotaro did ten years ago, and he grimaces, ripping his scarf off and letting it rest in his lap.

“He’s on time,” Jotaro murmurs, blinking as Star Platinum’s eyes stop overlaying with his own, the narrowed, cat-like pupils of his stand relaxing back into his own, human ones. “He’ll be here in about twenty minutes in that case…”

“Is Mr. Joestar the only passenger?” Koichi pipes up, ripping his gaze from where it had been trained diligently on Okuyasu, who’s quietly helping Josuke search a motorboat to be sure Red Hot Chili Pepper isn’t hiding in its motor. The boy hasn’t said anything else since they headed for the docks, and Kakyoin frowns, something in his chest deflating and scrunching down into his gut uncomfortably.

“Yes,” Jotaro answers, voice faint with distraction as he stares at the sea. “The crew- he’s the only passenger. The only other people are the crew.”

Koichi hums. Kakyoin squints, narrowing his eyes at the salty waves lapping against the pillars of the dock. “...Red Hot Chili Pepper can only travel via electricity…”

Jotaro nods while Koichi blinks. “Yes. But I don’t think he’ll let the sea stop him. He must have some sort of plan to get there before we can.”

Kakyoin scowls, wheeling to face Jotaro, canines peeking out from his lips. “Yes, I know, that’s why I brought it up in the first place, genius. I was just trying to figure out what, exactly, his method of attack must be. Do you have any ideas or are you only capable of stating the obvio-”

Josuke huffs loudly, clearing his throat, before he wipes the side of his face, shaking his head. “Mr. Jotaro!” He calls. “The boat’s deserted”

Koichi darts wide eyes between Kakyoin and Jotaro for a moment before quietly excusing himself and getting out from the middle of them.

Jotaro doesn’t look at Kakyoin; he just drops his eyes to the docks, before turning to Josuke. “Thanks.”

It should be a victory, but it doesn’t feel like it. Kakyoin snarls at the wood under his feet and digs his fingers into his armrests. 

“Alright,” Josuke says, fixing the hood of the motorboat back into place. “Let’s get going, quick.”

Jotaro hums. “...Actually,”

Josuke blinks, looking up, as does Kakyoin, eyes narrowed. Jotaro takes a deep breath, his back still facing Kakyoin.

“Okuyasu and I should be the only ones to go on the boat.”

“What?!” Josuke and Kakyoin ask at the same time, Josuke’s tone high in confusion, Kakyoin’s tone low and seething.

“What?” Jotaro echoes, brows furrowing, and Kakyoin scoffs, clawing at his armrests like a cat.

“Why?” Kakyoin spits, but Jotaro stays looking at Josuke. “C-” 

“The standuser behind Red Hot Chili Pepper will be waiting around here somewhere, watching us,” Jotaro explains. Josuke’s brows furrow while his eyes widen, darting about the landscape, and Kakyoin shuts his mouth. “He doesn’t know which ship will be Joseph’s. He’s waiting for us to make it obvious for him.”

Jotaro shakes his head, turning to glance at Kakyoin from over his shoulder before darting his gaze back down again. “Okuyasu and I will protect Joseph. Koichi, Josuke, Kakyoin…corner the user here.”

Kakyoin blinks, lips parting, but no words come out. Something rushes out from his chest, landing straight in his stomach, reveling in the impact, like a meteorite hitting the earth, a wave of something flying up to his throat, up to his eyes because of it. Kakyoin blinks rapidly, swallowing.

“...Ku-”

“As for what his plan is,” Jotaro segues, and Kakyoin swallows again, brows furrowing. Jotaro’s still turned away from him, so he can’t make out his expression. What are you thinking? Why would you…I thought… “...it’ll probably be something similar to the bike. Fast – probably faster than the boat – and battery-powered.”

Kakyoin shakes his head, shoving the tumbling rocks that are his thoughts to the back of his mind, refocusing on the situation at hand. “Mm…he might be stealing something from a radio shop right now, then.”

Jotaro nods. Koichi tilts his head, brows furrowing. “...Do you think he might be buy- er, stealing, a model airplane? Some of those can fly as fast as 100 miles per hour…”

Kakyoin blinks. “Shit- shit, he probably is, because then he doesn’t have to worry about the water if he’s in the air.”

Jotaro’s fists tighten, squeezing his own palms, before he releases them, taking a deep breath. Kakyoin eyes this, brows furrowing.

“Crafty…” He mutters before turning to Josuke, helping him up out of the motorboat and back onto the docks. “Josuke, keep an eye out for anything flying by. You too, Koichi.” Jotaro glances back at Kakyoin before shaking his head, sighing. Kakyoin narrows his eyes uneasily, shifting in his seat.

“With the stand hopefully chasing after the ship, the user should be easy to deal with,” Jotaro says as he hops into the boat, the vessel rocking with the momentum. Kakyoin blinks, before the meteorite in his stomach burns up, his gut tightening in fury.

“Oh- oh, of course. Right. Cause we can’t handle a stand, is that it?” Kakyoin snaps. Jotaro shoots him a look, and Kakyoin could almost regret speaking; he looks so tired, shadows haunting his eyes, purple smeared under the blue like the sky at dawn. Kakyoin’s tongue loses momentum, falling lax in his mouth.

“That’s not it,” Jotaro says, breaking Kakyoin out of his pause, and he rolls his eyes scoffing. 

“ Right . Sure. Who do you think I am? How- how incompetent do you think I a-”

“Will nothing make you happy?”

Kakyoin blinks, words dying on his tongue again. Jotaro echoes the blink, as if surprised by the words that fell from his own mouth.

Koichi clears his throat and Josuke steps in front of Kakyoin, concealing Jotaro from view.

“We’ll do our best,” Josuke says, voice tight. “No one will hurt Mr. Joestar as long as I have a say in it.”

Jotaro nods stiffly, though his expression relaxes a bit. “...Good luck,” he says.

Jotaro just nods in return. “You, too.”

Jotaro hesitates, hands clenching into fists, before he steps off the dock and onto the boat. Kakyoin sneers, shaking his head. I’m such a fucking idiot. As if he’d really give me a second chance.

With a practiced air, Jotaro crouches down and begins untying the boat from the dock, the brim of his hat conveniently keeping his face covered. Kakyoin wants to crush his fingers.

Instead, he shakes his head, rolling back. Priorities, he hisses to himself. Joseph comes before your wounded goddamn pride.

“Okuyasu,” Koichi says abruptly, prompting the teenager in question to glance up at him from the boat. “Go get him.”

Okuyasu blinks, before his gaze darts away for a second. Koichi’s brows furrow but then Okuyasu squares his shoulders and looks back up, nodding. “...Thanks, Koichi.”

The rope slips off the deck and into the boat, and Jotaro straightens. He looks up, gaze meeting Kakyoin’s for a moment, lips parting as if he wants to say something, before he presses his mouth into a line, turning and heading to the front seat. Something broils in Kakyoin’s gut. He’s not sure if it’s hot or cold.

After a moment, the boat’s engine begins purring, and Jotaro pulls it away from the deck and out to sea. Kakyoin stares at the back of Jotaro’s head intensely, but he never turns to look back. Shaking his head, Kakyoin sighs.

“Alright,” He says, turning to his two charges, who both straighten at being addressed. “Let’s obliterate that bastard.”

Josuke’s brows furrow, nodding, and Koichi presses his lips together, fists clenching at his sides.

“Koichi,” Kakyoin directs as he rolls forward, away from the docks, away from the fading roar of the motorboat, away from Jotaro, “use Echoes as a sort of scout. I’ll create a barrier with Hierophant’s tentacles, so you won’t be alone. Just keep your eyes open.”

Koichi nods stiffly, before nodding again, more fluidly, as he calls his stand forth, Echoes chirping in greeting before flying up in the air.

“Wha- what about me?” Josuke asks, eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re not thinking you can leave me out of this, right?”

Kakyoin points at him. “No. When Red Hot Chili Pepper shows his ugly face, then you can tear him limb from limb if you want, so long as you heal him again so we can get back the stand arrow.”

Josuke blinks before snickering meanly, nodding. It reminds Kakyoin of how he reacted to Angelo…

Kakyoin sighs, shaking his head, finally turning and glancing back at the sea as Hierophant unfurls from his chest, stretching out along the docks and coastline. “Let’s hope Kujo can do his job for once and actually keep someone safe.”

Koichi’s face twitches, but he says nothing. Josuke turns thoughtful, face dropping from the mean, determined smirk. Kakyoin frowns.

“You okay, Josuke?”

Josuke blinks, before nodding, turning his head away from Kakyoin.

Koichi hums, brows furrowing. “Josuke…”

Josuke sighs, shoulders dropping. “I just…Joestar- my…dad. I’ve never met him before. I don’t know anything about him. But now I’m told he’s my father and I need to protect him and just…” Josuke shakes his head. “It’s…not what I expected a year ago. Or even just three months ago.”

Koichi hums, padding forward and knocking Josuke’s shoulder gently.

Josuke shrugs helplessly, brows pinching inward. “I didn’t- I didn’t want to think about him much growing up, because whenever he came up it always made mom cry, but I thought- I always thought he’d be strong enough to protect mom and me when I did meet him. But…it turns out he can’t even protect himself- I-” Josuke swallows thickly. “I feel like this is backward,” he admits quietly.

“Josuke,” Kakyoin murmurs, lightly bumping his wheel against Josuke’s shoe. Josuke shakes his head, stepping away from Koichi’s touch.

“Sorry,” he mutters, “I shouldn’t be talking about this right now.”

Koichi shakes his head, brows furrowing. “No. There’s no ‘should’, Josuke. I understand why you feel the way you do.”

Kakyoin hums, finally turning his head and looking back at the ocean. The motorboat is nowhere in sight anymore. “...If it makes you feel better,” Kakyoin murmurs, “Kujo exaggerated. Joseph- er, Mr. Joestar isn’t decrepit. He’s seen better days, but he’s still capable.” Kakyoin almost adds Kujo has a bad habit of underestimating people, but he has enough tact to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he tags on, “Meeting him…it still has the chance of being a good thing rather than a bad.”

Josuke doesn’t respond, just continues staring at the azure waves as they lap against the docks they’re standing on, quietly splashing as the water rushes over itself before combining into a whole again.

Eventually, Josuke shakes his head, straightening. “Well…either way, his life’s in danger. So despite whatever he can do, we need to do our best. Um…” Josuke ducks his head. “...I owe it to mom if not him.”

Kakyoin and Koichi exchange glances, but before either of them can say anything, a sudden barrage of cursing kicks up from behind a mess of storage units lining the docks, and Kakyoin twitches, the faint impression of someone tripping over his foot echoing along his body from Hierophant’s.

“Kakyoin Noriaki!” A voice hisses, seething, and the hair stands on the back of Kakyoin’s neck, hands jerking out to roll between where he hears the voice and Josuke and Koichi. “You’ve been more annoying than I thought you would be, you bastard,”

Kakyoin smothers a snort, instead stretching out Hierophant to try and find the user’s legs again.

“My model plane method of attack would’ve been so convenient,” the voice whines and Kakyoin bites back a comment about how it sounds like the cries of a spoiled toddler. “You’re going to have to pay for that!”

With those words, sparks near a grate fly up, and Kakyoin wheels to face it just as Red Hot Chili Pepper jumps out, eyes flashing. Kakyoin blinks, fingers digging into his armrests. So he’s not gonna chance trying to fly out to Joseph’s ship with us here, huh? The user must be too defenseless without his stand, then…

Kakyoin’s eyes narrow. Hm…

“What the fuck?” Josuke yelps, drawing Kakyoin out of his thoughts.

Kakyoin follows Josuke’s gaze, only to blink, mouth dropping open at the…appalling fashion of Red Hot Chili Pepper’s user.

Long, bright purple hair, a navy blue vest with orange accents, a dark blue electric guitar, and bright orange pants jump out at Kakyoin’s eyes, and he’s almost glad he has his sunglasses; the contrast would genuinely make his eyes hurt otherwise.

“You’re a smart guy,” The user sneers, “I’ll give you that. But you’ve been doing the exact opposite of what I told you to back when this all started.”

Kakyoin rolls his eyes, snapping up his jaw from the sore sight. “Did you really think threatening me would make me comply?”

The user does shrug consideringly at that. “It was worth a shot.” Kakyoin scoffs. “Anyway,” he segues.

“The radio plane I stole can get to Joestar’s ship within five minutes, whereas I estimate the motorboat Mr. Jotaro and Okuyasu took will get there in eight,” he croons. “That means, if I finish you in three minutes, I’ll still have time to get there!”

He points at Kakyoin with his guitar pick. “Which is why I revealed myself! Take it as an omen that no one who has seen my face so far has lived to speak of it! I, Otoishi Akira, will kill you all!”

Kakyoin raises a brow, staring up at Red Hot Chili Pepper’s user from over his glasses, saying nothing. The man’s point wavers, before his smug smile turns into a glare, whipping his hand back.

“Do you not take me seriously?!” He spits.

Kakyoin does snort then, allowing chuckles to bubble out of his chest. Josuke and Koichi stare with wide eyes, volleying between Kakyoin and the user. “Of course I don’t,” Kakyoin giggles, “you’ve had to send high schoolers to kill in your stead.”

Akira flushes in anger, brows turning sharply downward. Kakyoin could just imagine the steam coming from his ears.

“You- asshole!!” Akira spits, and Kakyoin laughs again. He can’t help it – it’s too easy to mess with this man.

“Don’t beg me for mercy!” He spits, “Especially not for those brats that follow you like ducklings!”

Kakyoin cuts off his laughter, staring down Akira again, Hierophant’s tentacles rising behind him in a show of intimidation and in preparation for lashing forward. “If you touch them, you’ll be the one begging for mercy.”

Akira sneers. “We’ll see!”

“Mr. Kakyoin-” Koichi murmurs nervously, but Kakyoin just shakes his head, glaring.

“It’s fin-”

“Mr. Kakyoin, just be careful,” Koichi presses, and Kakyoin twitches, just barely biting back a retort and turning to glance at him. “I- I don’t want to see you get hurt again,” Koichi continues, and Kakyoin’s chest swells in shame and fury, a whirlwind of fire, making his chest tense and his arms shake.

“I’ll be fine,” Kakyoin spits, “try and destroy the model plane while I play around with him.”

Josuke frowns, but before he can say anything, Akira laughs, and a flicker of light makes Kakyoin whip his head back to face him. Red Hot Chili Pepper has appeared, beady red eyes bright and smug.

“Maybe you should listen to Koichi, Mr. Kakyoin,” the stand purrs, making Kakyoin’s hair stand on end. “Based on how easy it was earlier, I bet I could kill you with just my pinkie finger!”

Kakyoin’s eyes narrow as his vision fades to red.

Instead of responding verbally, Kakyoin just has Hierophant whip out a lone tentacle, rushing towards Akira’s user before he can say anything.

“Wha-!” Red Hot Chili Pepper dives for the tentacle to stop it, but it easily jerks up like the hump of a camel, continuing its race towards Akira himself.

Akira blinks, shocked his stand wasn’t fast enough, and the hesitation costs him: Hierophant wraps around the hand clinging to the neck of the guitar, pulling the four fingers backward off the fretboard, bending, bending, bending, until four sickening cracks sound out across the docks and Akira shrieks, jerking violently away.

Kakyoin lets him go, the red fading the slightest bit from his vision as he grins wickedly at the response, more a bearing of teeth than a bearing of happiness.

“WHAT THE FUCK!!” Akira cries, falling to his knees and holding the wrist of his mutilated hand. Kakyoin snorts, raising a brow.

“That was for Okuyasu,” Kakyoin says lowly. Akira grimaces deeply, glaring up at Kakyoin viciously. “And what was that about killing me with only your pinkie?” Kakyoin teases, and Akira snarls, animalistic, and shrugs his guitar off his shoulder roughly, jumping back to his feet.

“Mr. Kakyoin!” Koichi yelps and Kakyoin just flashes a smile back at the boys, maybe to reassure them, maybe to boast – Kakyoin doesn’t get to say anything before the sound of electricity crackles through the air and Kakyoin's hair stands on end.

Whipping his head back, Kakyoin’s eyes narrow, darting around. Red Hot Chili Pepper has disappeared, the user still glowering at Kakyoin.

“You’re going to regret,” Akira seethes, “not heeding the warning I was kind enough to give you about just getting the hell out of here!”

Kakyoin rolls his eyes, but before he can say anything, Josuke shrieks, “Mr. Kakyoin, WATCH OUT!”

Hierophant reflexively digs into the pavement, shooting Kakyoin forward and away, wheeling around to turn behind him, only to yelp as Red Hot Chili Pepper lunges out of one of the drainage grates toward him. 

“Hierophant!” Kakyoin snaps, and Hierophant’s tentacles amass back into his humanoid form, hands slamming together and generating a burst of water. Red Hot Chili Pepper blinks, surprised, but his momentum won’t let him turn away.

“Wait-”

Hierophant shoots out the water and Red Hot Chili Pepper throws up its hands, protecting its face at the expense of its forearms, and the stand and user both shriek in unison when the water hits, scattering the electric charge that makes up Red Hot Chili Pepper’s body, forcing it to disassemble. The stand glitches, shuddering, before it shoots back into the grate.

“What the FUCK!” Akira shouts, and Kakyoin wheels around again, snarling. “When did- where did you-”

“You really are an idiot,” Kakyoin snaps, rolling forward, smugness tightening his chest and warming the cavity of it when Akira takes a step back. “You don’t know shit about my abilities, huh? And you really thought you could kill me, Josuke, and Koichi in only a few minutes?”

Akira snarls, glaring up at Kakyoin from his curtain of purple hair. “You…” he turns and spits, teeth clenched tightly. “...You shouldn’t brag until you’ve won the fight, old man!”

Kakyoin blinks, only for Josuke and Koichi to both begin screaming behind him, and Kakyoin immediately spins his wheelchair around again, only to be face-to-face with Red Hot Chili Pepper.

Kakyoin barely has time for Hierophant to wrap around his chest, protecting him from any electrocution, before Red Hot Chili Pepper throws a punch with a strangled yell, arms still burned from the water blast earlier.

Kakyoin wheezes as the impact jostles his ribs, but thankfully the brunt of it reverberates throughout Hierophant’s tentacles, Kakyoin feeling it echoing in his arms more than his chest.

Red Hot Chili Pepper snarls before ducking back under, giving Kakyoin a front-row seat to how Koichi and Josuke’s eyes both widen, Josuke flying forward with Crazy Diamond in flickering into view behind him, Koichi opening his mouth to shout a warning, before Kakyoin jerks his head around only to see Red Hot Chili Pepper’s clawed talon flying towards his face.

Panic seizes Kakyoin – not again, not again, not again – and Kakyoin ducks, only for fire to fly up his spinal column over him daring to bend his back. Kakyoin grits his teeth, pain fueling a fire of rage, chucking hot coals into his blood.

Red Hot Chili Pepper misses his initial attack, only to swing down and slam Kakyon’s head down, forcing his nose to knock against his own knees, and Kakyoin jerks, flying back away from the stand’s grip, blinking rapidly to clear his vision as a welling in one of his nostrils lets him know blood is about to start dripping down from it. Great, great, great-

“MR. KAKYOIN!” Koichi and Josuke both shout, before Josuke barrels past Kakyoin towards Akira, snarling like a rabid dog, and Kakyoin blinks rapidly before calling “Wait- wait- JOSUKE!”

Hierophant snakes forward and seizes Josuke around the chest, jerking him back just in time as Red Hot Chili Pepper flies up from another grate at Akira’s feet, swinging with a sparking fist to where Josuke was just milliseconds earlier.

Snarling, Kakyoin wheels back towards Koichi, dragging Josuke along with Hierophant, regrouping. Akira smirks despite the tremors traveling down his frame, no doubt due to the adrenaline and pain of his forearms being burned and his fingers being broken.

“Game plan,” Kakyoin seethes quietly, staring down the user as he begins monologuing again, Red Hot Chili Pepper hyping its user on. Seriously, even if he could kill them, why does he think he could get it done so quickly with all his damn yapping?

“Game plan,” Kakyoin repeats, glancing back at Red Hot Chili Pepper and Akira, before shooting a stream of water at him. Akira screeches and dives to the side, his stand mirroring his movement. “I’ll distract that damn stand. Between Hierophant’s flexibility and water, I’ll be fine,” He spits.

He turns to Josuke and Koichi, both of whom are staring at him with wide eyes. “You two: pin down the user. He’s skinny as hell – one good hit to the back of his head should knock him out pretty easily. Between your range-” he points at Koichi with a gloved finger “-and your strength-” he points to Josuke “-you should find it pretty easy. Don’t worry about doing it quickly, just make sure you do it. Got it?”

Koichi and Josuke both jerkily nod, Koichi squaring his shoulders while Josuke opens his mouth, pausing, before he shakes his head vigorously. “I- we won’t let you down, Mr. Kakyoin,” he says, eyes shining.

Kakyoin doesn’t respond; he just turns back around, snarling, pushing off towards Akira again. I know you won’t.

Akira shrieks again before Red Hot Chili Pepper flies forward from a grate, talons reaching forward to grab Kakyoin by the ribs again. Kakyoin just bares his teeth in what was probably supposed to be a smile as Hierophant’s hands materialize near his chest, water churning between his palms.

Red Hot Chili Pepper reels back against its momentum, trying to fly out of the way – and to be fair, he’s fast enough that perhaps he could’ve if he wasn’t moving against his own inertia so suddenly. But because he’s an idiot, Kakyoin thinks to himself, he got too cocky.

Hierophant shoots the water like a broken fire hydrant, forceful and unrestrained, and Red Hot Chili Pepper shrieks as a band of water splays across his torso, sapping the electricity like a paper towel over a spill.

“GAH!” Red Hot Chili Pepper and Akira shriek in unison, Red Hot Chili Pepper glitching before being resummoned closer to Akira’s side. Hierophant just reangles, spraying even more water at the stand, and Akira snarls. “You fucking- I will KILL YOU!!”

Kakyoin can feel Red Hot Chili Pepper pop up from a grate behind him before he can hear him, his hair standing on end due to the electricity. Kakyoin smirks at Akira as Hierophant easily twists his arms to continue spraying the stand, making Akira and Red Hot Chili Pepper balk in surprise before the stand must duck and retreat again to avoid the water.

“You really don’t know anything about my abilities,” Kakyoin snarks, and Akira seethes, a bead of sweat rolling down his face.

“Shut up,” Akira snarls, “you think you’re so smart – SHUT UP!!”

Kakyoin tsks, shaking his head.

“YOU-!!” Akira grits his teeth, his stand reappearing at his side, before he begins lighting up, sparks flying off the stand as it starts shining brightly. Kakyoin squints even past his sunglasses, wheeling back a bit.

“ You don’t know anything about my abilities!!” Akira shrieks as the light continues to grow brighter. Somewhere, Kakyoin can hear Koichi yelp, and his blood runs cold. “I’ve never lived up to my full potential — till now! I’m using the electricity of the entire city now!”

Kakyoin just manages to bite back a curse, glaring at nothing as the light burns through his retinas. I thought the sun when N’doul blinded me was bad, fuck-

A sound not unlike the roar of a jet’s engine rises in Kakyoin’s ears, his nerves sparking in panic as electricity zaps close to him. Hierophant immediately jerks up around his body, hands slamming together above Kakyoin’s head to rain water down around him as an attempt at some sort of shield, but he’s not fast enough.

Kakyoin’s head snaps roughly to the side before he even feels any pain from the punch, his wheelchair rolling back from the force, the muscles in his cheek twitching as the electricity dances into his skin. Better than my fucking spine at least-

Kakyoin can begin to feel a dull ache echoing from his cheek, sharper pain zipping in and out like a heartbeat. Kakyoin rapidly blinks his eyes open, only to realize one of his lenses is cracked. This motherfucker-

“I’m so SICK OF YOU!!”

Kakyoin blinks before he’s punched again, right under his jaw, with enough power to make him fly up and out of his wheelchair.

Kakyoin’s teeth click together painfully, his tongue caught in the crossfire, and Kakyoin’s blood boils as the pain reaches back up to his brain. Training an eye on Red Hot Chili Pepper past his one good lens, Kakyoin glares, eyes wide in fury.

Red Hot Chili Pepper begins to bring its hands down again, like a reverse volleyball bump, and Kakyoin can only spit at the stand and sneer with bloody teeth as Hierophant’s hands come back together again.

Just as Red Hot Chili Pepper’s hit lands, Hierophant shoots out another stream of water, making them both fly back due to impact, Red Hot Chili Pepper screaming as the water once again doses his form.

“MR. KAKYOIN!!” He can hear one of the kids scream – Koichi? Josuke? – before he slams into something hard and metal – heh, just like my stupid damn spine, Kakyoin thinks dumbly – and his hearing fades out, instead replaced with a ringing that may be Kakyoin’s brain shaking in his skull.

A weak moan of pain escapes him and Hierophant is immediately washing cool water against the wound he’s definitely just gotten on the back of his head, trying his best to numb the nerves and make the pain go away, at least for now.

“I’LL K- HUH?!”

Kakyoin’s brows furrow before he chances opening his eyes again. Both his lenses are cracked now, and Kakyoin very, very carefully reaches up and pulls them off his face. The last thing he needs is fucking glass in his eyes…

“A TIRE?!”

Kakyoin blinks before looking around, squinting. Josuke is standing with his shoulders back, looking absolutely murderous, his lip curled in fury, while the pink glow associated with Crazy Diamond surrounds a cut-up tire – a tire that is now being brought back together around Red Hot Chili Pepper’s form.

Kakyoin blinks. Rubber is an insulator. Rubber is an insulator. His shoulders immediately release tension, unable to hold back his laughter. Genius. Genius.

“WHAT THE HELL-”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Josuke spits, staring down the stand as it tries to claw its way out of the tire before it’s finished repairing around him, a perfect cage. “Did you forget you were fighting three people?”

Just then, there’s a crack, and Kakyoin slides his eyes over to Koichi, only to balk. Koichi has tackled the standuser, Echoes swinging wildly around all the while, to make him drop the model airplane and break it. Holy shit, Kakyoin thinks, his heart beating with excitement and- pride. He’s proud. He’s proud.

“ARGH- you brats!!” Akira spits, chucking Koichi off of him, staring with wild eyes at Josuke. Kakyoin grunts, shifting up. He needs to help- he needs-

“Haven’t you learned by now that my stand can punch shit? I have the physical power to get out of this fucking tire without electricity! You’re the one who’s dumb!!” Akira points with his non-broken hand.

Josuke doesn’t flinch, even as the sound of rubber tearing – not unlike the sound of a zipper, Kakyoin thinks dazedly – echoes throughout the docks.

“Your mistake then,” Josuke snaps, making Akira pause.

“...Wha-?”

Red Hot Chili Pepper finally claws open the tire, only for the tire to shoot forward, racing off the docks.

“WHA-” Akira cries before his face grows pale so quickly Kakyoin could see the color difference. “The air pressure- you restore things, not just fix them-”

“That’s right,” Josuke snarls, and the tire flies off the edge and into the water.

Akira drops to his knees and screams, smoke rising off of his own skin as his shrieks are echoed over the lip of the dock. Kakyoin sucks in a breath before sitting up, Hierophant wrapping around his waist and legs to help him accomplish the feat.

Hierophant gently carries him to his wheelchair, and when he finally slots back down, his cardigan rumpled and his scarf having been lost somewhere between being thrown and getting back onto his feet, the screams fade, and Akira collapses.

Josuke was staring over the edge of the dock the whole time, shoulders so tense Kakyoin’s own muscles hurt just staring at him. He slides his gaze back to Koichi, who is padding up to his friend, brows furrowed in concern and determination. Kakyoin takes a deep breath and heads over to them as well.

“I’m glad the idea worked,” he can hear Koichi saying as he rolls over. Josuke nods stiffly, his brows furrowed, more in dawning horror than in anger, now.

“...What happens when a stand is destroyed, Mr. Kakyoin?” He asks weakly, and Kakyoin’s own eyes widen, gaze darting down to the water, only to see small, dying sparks. The remains of Red Hot Chili Pepper.

Kakyoin glances back at Akira’s stiff body and sucks in a breath. No point in sugarcoating. He already knows.

“...Well, stands and their users have physical connections. What happens to a stand is…echoed to the user…”

Josuke remains still before swallowing thickly. Koichi reaches out to rub his arm, and Josuke shudders, closing his eyes.

“...Don’t look, Josuke,” Kakyoin murmurs. Josuke lifts his head, but Hierophant reaches out and gently turns his head back to face the water.

“Don’t look,” Kakyoin repeats softly, “I’ll go take care of it.”

Josuke nods stiffly, shuddering, before dropping to his knees, shoulders trembling. Koichi follows him down, murmuring words Kakyoin cannot hear. It’s not his business to hear.

Kakyoin frowns stiffly as he wheels over to Akira’s body, his chest tight. I should’ve done more than just get thrown around. I should’ve made sure Josuke didn’t have to make that choice.

His fingers tightening on his armrests, Kakyoin makes it to the body. He sighs and allows Hierophant to slither out, reaching to gently take hold of Akira’s wrist as he considers where to dump the body. Watery grave to join his stand or something more dignifi-?

A pulse.

Kakyoin blinks rapidly before his face curls into a snarl, Hierophant quitting with the gentleness and immediately wrapping tightly around Akira, stringing him up.

“Ah- FUCK!” Akira spits, eyes flying open, glaring up at Kakyoin past strands of that stupid dark purple hair. “Do you have no tact-”

“Oh, don’t you fucking dare talk to me about tact,” Kakyoin spits, hands shaking with fury. Josuke and Koichi both exclaim as they look over due to the commotion. “You were going to let a teenager deal with killing someone, you-”

“He’s alive?!” Josuke cries, Koichi gaping. Kakyoin snarls and Hierophant tightens around Akira, a tentacle wrapping around his throat. Akira goes very still, suddenly aware of the position he’s in.

“Do you understand,” Kakyoin seethes quietly, voice trembling like the rattle of a snake, “how easy it is to break the human neck?”

Akira doesn’t answer. He just stares down Kakyoin with wide eyes, brows furrowed in not quite a glare, but something close to it. Kakyoin can feel the man’s heartbeat through Hierophant’s tentacles, racing, bucking like an angry horse, and Kakyoin grits his teeth so hard his jaw hurts.

“You,” Kakyoin continues with his low, smooth voice, “are so lucky those children you tried to kill are here right now, or I would be making sure you wished you had just died. Do you know how much my Hierophant Green loves tearing people from the inside out?”

Akira still doesn’t answer. He swallows slowly, throat bobbing against the tentacle around it, and Kakyoin tightens it, making him choke slightly.

“Unlike you, though, I have some standards. I’m not going to make the kids watch that,” Kakyoin continues. “However,” His eyes flash, and the dried blood from his nose earlier flakes as his lip curls up into a threatening smile, “if you do anything – and I do mean anything – to make me suspect you are trying to weasel out of this, I will happily snap your neck and be done with it.”

Josuke and Koichi are still near the edge of the dock, seemingly frozen. A small wind blows and while it saps the heat away from where Kakyoin has sweat, he refuses to shiver. Akira tries swallowing again, but the tentacle is too tight around his throat to let him.

Slowly, he nods. Kakyoin smiles, but it’s more a bearing of his teeth. “Fantastic. Lovely, even.”

The silence continues for a few heartbeats, Hierophant occasionally tightening around Akira’s body, a python teasing its prey. Hierophant squeezes the hand full of broken fingers, and Akira inhales sharply, squeezing his eyes shut due to the pain. Kakyoin hums.

“Mr. Kakyoin…”

Kakyoin finally rips his gaze away from the man, turning to look at Koichi, who had piped up. He and Josuke had moved closer, Josuke looking a little pale, but much less scared than he had earlier, and Kakyoin lets out a breath.

“Don’t worry,” Kakyoin grins – it still comes out as mean more than anything else, and it makes Koichi pause – “we’ve come to an agreement. Akira won’t be causing any more trouble – right?”

Hierophant tightens, popping Akira’s spine, and Akira’s eyes bulge, twitching, glaring at Kakyoin, until the pressure releases and he stiffly nods.

“Such a sweetheart,” Kakyoin spits, and Koichi and Josuke exchange glances but don’t comment.

“...Is it over, then?” Josuke asks, and Kakyoin finally lets go of the anger in his chest, letting the bundle of fury loosen and cool off, like the core of a star unraveling.

“It’s over,” Kakyoin confirms. Akira sags a bit in Hierophant’s hold and Koichi and Josuke lean against each other, letting out breaths.

Koichi hums, turning to look back at the water, before glancing down and checking his watch. “...Mr. Jotaro said the ship was arriving on time, right?”

Kakyoin blinks, straightening. “Oh- right.”

Josuke swallows thickly, gaze darting to the sea, where a white ship can now be seen on the horizon. “...Oh.”

Kakyoin frowns, but doesn’t comment; instead, he turns to Koichi. “Could you relay that we got the standuser once the ship is within range? I would do it myself, but,” Kakyoin snickers, pointing toward Akira with a thumb. “Hierophant’s a little tied up right now.”

He snorts and giggles at his own joke, while Koichi smiles uneasily, before nodding, his face slipping into determined seriousness. “Don’t worry, Mr. Kakyoin, I got it.”

Kakyoin nods, sighing, leaning his head back, and glancing at Akira. “I’m hilarious, aren’t I? You’re lucky to have me as a captor than, say, Kujo. I have a sense of humor.”

Akira glares at him, and it just makes Kakyoin snicker again.

Kakyoin will give it to him though, Akira keeps his word; he stays limp in Hierophant's hold and waits for the Speedwagon Foundation boat to reach the shore. Perhaps, despite the man’s obvious pride, he knows when he’s outmatched. Kakyoin rolls his eyes. Took him long enough.

Also as promised, Koichi sends out Echoes when the ship is within 50 meters of the shore, relaying the news that Akira and Red Hot Chili Pepper had been defeated. Koichi glances at Kakyoin as Echoes comes back, and Kakyoin raises a brow.

“What’d he say?” He asks dryly.

Koichi fidgets before squaring his shoulders, looking up at Kakyoin. “He’s relieved. He says ‘well done.’”

Kakyoin tsks, rolling his eyes, but says nothing. Koichi presses his lips into a line before turning to Josuke, who's gotten progressively paler as the ship draws closer.

“Josuke?” Koichi asks, making Josuke start.

“Ah- uh- oh, Koichi,” Josuke sputters, “what’s up?”

Koichi frowns. “What’s up with you?”

Josuke pauses at the bluntness, before shaking his head. “Um. Geez, I think it’d be kinda obvious,”

Koichi’s frown deepens, as does Kakyoin’s. “Well…yeah, but…are you okay, is more what I was getting at.”

Josuke hums, shoulders slumping. “I…I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m ready to meet my dad. Oh, my god, he’s my dad, and he’s 79-”

“Josuke,” Kakyoin cuts in gently, and Josuke shuts his mouth, sucking in a deep breath. “You don’t need to stay.”

Josuke blinks. “W-what?” His voice cracks and Kakyoin feels the support beams of some structure in him turn soft, leading to a collapse.

“The fight’s over. We’re all okay. You don’t need to handle the bureaucratic parts. You can just go home, get some rest, enjoy the rest of your weekend,” Kakyoin says gently.

Josuke swallows, gaze dragging back to the ship as it looms closer. It’s close enough for Kakyoin to see that Jotaro’s on the deck, facing them. He’s not able to see his expression.

“To be honest,” Josuke says quietly, breaking Kakyoin out of his train of thought, “I wish he’d be the one to leave. I do all this, and I still need to be the one to run away?”

“Josuke,” Koichi says quietly, but Josuke shakes his head.

“I’m glad he wasn’t killed,” Josuke says, “but I- I wish- I can’t-” his face scrunches up, brows furrowing upward, “he’s not my dad. I can’t treat him like my dad. Not after 16- 16 ye-” Josuke cuts himself off then, hunching over himself.

Something in Kakyoin breaks in the rubble of the structural collapse.

“Josuke,” Kakyoin says quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Josuke doesn’t respond to it. “Joseph…” he pauses, tasting the words in his mouth, rolling them over his tongue to see which combination would be best. “Joseph won’t expect you to treat him like your dad. He knows he’s a stranger. He knows any grief…any grief because of that is on him, not on you,”

Josuke shudders, raising his head to look at Kakyoin, and for once, Kakyoin thinks distantly, he looks 16.

“It wouldn’t be running away,” Kakyoin finishes, “if you don’t want to see him. Running away implies a responsibility is being avoided. But you don’t owe him anything.”

Josuke swallows and ducks his head, and Kakyoin’s gut churns. His shoulders tremble minutely, but Kakyoin doesn’t hear the telltale sniffling that’s indicative of silent sobs. Koichi pats Josuke’s other shoulder then, and Josuke lets out a shaky gasp.

“Josuke,” Koichi murmurs, and Josuke leans into his touch. Kakyoin draws back his hand, giving Koichi the room to wrap his arms around his friend’s shoulders. 

It’s quiet, save for Josuke’s occasional gasps of breath, like he’s continuously forgetting to breathe, before eventually, Josuke pulls himself out of his friend’s arms, standing up and straightening.

He turns to face Koichi and Kakyoin, and Kakyoin lets out a breath. Josuke’s eyes, while misty, are not red from outright crying. He swallows again before nodding toward Kakyoin.

“...Thank you, Mr. Kakyoin,” he mutters, and Kakyoin deigns to say nothing. Josuke sucks in another breath, shaking his head. “...I’ll at least meet him,” He says quietly. “I want to see who I’ve gone through all this damn trouble for.”

Kakyoin nods.

The ship pulls into port then, and Josuke takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. Kakyoin glances up and sees Jotaro watching them all from a perch near the railing of the ship’s deck. Kakyoin gnaws on the inside of his lip. Time to face the music.

The door to the cabin swings open and a ramp is laid out from the ship to the deck. Kakyoin, Koichi, and Josuke, with Hierophant trailing Akira along, creep closer to it.

There’s quiet for a moment before Joseph appears from the cabin, and Kakyoin blinks.

…What a getup. He needs to stifle a laugh at the leopard-print hat. What the hell?

Josuke ducks his head down, and it becomes easier to stifle.

Joseph lets out a breath, the sound crackling like fire from his old lungs, and he begins the descent down the ramp. As he steps from the shade, Kakyoin can see something in Joseph’s hands, and he blinks as he registers it. …When did he get a cane?

…When did it break?

It seems Joseph doesn’t need it for short distances, at least. He continues walking down, slowly but steadily, before suddenly, he trips. Kakyoin blinks, his gut instinct to use Hierophant, only to remember he’s holding a fugitive. Wait-

He doesn’t need to worry. Instead, Josuke darts forward, reaching out to catch Joseph, setting him upright again. The cane clatters to the dock.

“Watch your step,” Josuke chides dazedly, voice not at all the command Kakyoin knew it could be. Joseph blinks before nodding like it was anyway.

“Sorry,” Joseph says, his voice coming out as creaky as his cane was, “my cane’s broken. The waves led to it snapping.”

Josuke tsks, averting his eyes as his face turns red. “Well, that’s a shame.” He kicks the ground before sucking in a breath and offering his hand. “Um. Guess it can’t be helped, then; take my hand.”

Kakyoin blinks. Joseph also blinks in disbelief, before shooting his gaze to Josuke’s face. Josuke’s shoulders hike up and he refuses to meet his eyes, but he keeps his hand offered.

Joseph continues to hesitate. Josuke takes a deep breath and reaches out to take his father’s hand.

“Come on,” Josuke mutters, his face still red, and something in Kakyoin’s chest warms up. Kakyoin almost expects it to be anger, since that’s the only real hot emotion he’s felt in at least three years, but for once, it’s more warm than smoldering, not painful but relaxing. “Were you staying at the hotel with Mr. Jotaro?” Josuke asks as they walk away, and Kakyoin needs to bite back a smile.

Okuyasu trails down the ramp after Joseph, eyeing the two, before his gaze darts to the broken cane, picking up the pieces.

“Why didn’t Josuke just fix the cane…?” He asks, and Koichi knocks his shoulder, brows furrowing.

“Okuyasu, sh!” He chides, gaze darting at the pair before going back to Okuyasu. “They’re- it’s complicated, can’t you see?”

Okuyasu lets out a comprehending sound, but he still looks a little confused, and Kakyoin realizes he wasn’t there for when Jouske confessed his feelings about meeting his father.

He shakes his head, opening his mouth to comment, when the creaking of the ramp draws his attention, and he raises his gaze to meet Jotaro’s.

Jotaro looks vaguely ill, his face pale, and Kakyoin wants to snap some comment about if he got seasick, but he holds his tongue. For now.

“Kakyoin,” Jotaro says quietly, and Kakyoin wishes he had asked Josuke to heal him if only so he doesn’t have to see the pity flickering in Jotaro’s gaze as it lingers on the dried blood under his nose and near his forehead, the skin sliced by his shattered lenses.

“Kujo,” Kakyoin snarls, and Koichi and Okuyasu both stiffen before looking their way. Kakyoin sucks in a deep breath, biting back insults and remarks despite them building on the back of his tongue like a fire at the back of a dragon’s. “Got the standuser. All that’s left is to find the bow and arrow, right?”

Jotaro blinks, before nodding. “Right.” He pauses, gaze searching Kakyoin’s face. Kakyoin’s hackles rise, Hierophant tightening in reflection of his rising irritation, and Akira lets out a yelp, making Kakyoin close his eyes and refocus.

“And then this town will be safe again,” Jotaro says. Kakyoin opens his eyes again to squint at him.

“Right,” he agrees uneasily.

“ Josuke will be safe again,” Jotaro presses and Kakyoin blinks, before the memory of their agreement comes rushing back.

“...as long as that kid is threatened, I’m sticking around. Got it?”

“...Fine.”

Kakyoin’s brows raise before he scoffs, glaring up at Jotaro with enough fire in his veins he feels like he could melt him down until he’s nothing but a puddle of condescending white.

“I didn’t remember you being particularly nitpicky like this, Kujo,” Kakyoin spits, and Jotaro just frowns, tired, and Kakyoin wants to laugh, because how dare he feel tired over a mess he made-

“Then you didn’t remember me.”

Kakyoin blinks at the words, not expecting the retort, before he snarls, fingers digging into his armrest.

“I cannot- I caught the standuser while still keeping him alive so we can get the information we need, I kept the kids safe, everything’s fine, the proof I’m capable is literally right in front of you and you still-”

“You’re injured,” Jotaro says quietly, and Kakyoin blinks. “Everything isn’t fine. You…” Jotaro’s hand twitches, jerking up as if he wants to reach out and inspect the damage himself, but Kakyoin winces back and Jotaro recoils as if burned.

“Oh, fucking technicalities,” Kakyoin spits, “so I didn’t do it perfect. It’s still better than if the kids were hurt! You’re really telling me that means I don’t get to stay? I don’t have a right to be wherever the hell I want to be?”

“Kakyoin,” Jotaro sighs, and Kakyoin sees red, “why do you even want to stay?”

Kakyoin blinks. “What?”

“Why do you want to stay?” Jotaro presses, brows furrowed. “The danger’s gone. You completed the favor Jiji asked of you. Do you really want to stick around and yell at me so much you’ll put whatever else it is you’re doing on hold-”

“You- you are the most self-absorbed person I ever met- it’s not fucking about you!” Kakyoin shouts, breathing haggardly. Jotaor knows exactly what buttons to push, “Fuck,” Kakyoin spits out hysterically, “I wish I had never met you, I wish I had died rather than meet you!” Kakyoin spits, voice continuing to rise with hysteria with every word until he’s shrieking and Jotaro has retreated under his hat.

Chest heaving, Kakyoin stares, waiting for Jotaro’s reply. He stays hidden under his hat, and Kakyoin wants to hurt him. He wants to rip the hat off his head, throttle him, digs his fingers in so deep that Jotaro’s bruising-

“STOP- CHOKING ME!” comes a gargled, strained cry from his side, and Kakyoin whips his head to see Hierophant writhing around Akira, truly looking like a python with how tentacles are slowly squeezing the body trapped in them.

Kakyoin takes a deep breath, giving Akira some air, before snapping his gaze back to Jotaro., only to see Koichi and Okuyasu watching uneasily.

Kakyoin blinks again before shame burns hot and bright, and he snarls, seething, glaring up at Jotaro.

“Do you always need to make a fucking fool of me in front of an audience?” Kakyoin spits. Jotaro doesn’t respond; still acting like a statue, his hand on his brim.

“Mr. Kakyoin,” Koichi says quietly, and Kakyoin sucks in a breath, before letting it back out as a growl, animalistic and primal.

“I hate you,” Kakyoin seethes, rolling up to Jotaro. “I hate you, I h-”

“Mr. Kakyoin,” Okuyasu calls, his voice higher with unease and panic, and Kakyoin closes his eyes and takes a deep, deep breath, smoothing out his expression. Jotaro still hasn’t moved.

He turns, then, heading up the ramp and toward the Speedwagon Foundation agents conversing on the ship’s deck.

“Come on, Akira,” Kakyoin says cheerily, the voice as plastic as his old earrings. “Let’s have a talk over tea about that arrow.”

Chapter Text

???

???

When Kakyoin first wakes up, he can’t open his eyes. They’re pinned under the weight of their own muscle, taped for good measure with all kinds of gunk like sleep dust and long-dried moisture, and Kakyoin is too tired to try and fight it.

Kakyoin breathes slowly, calmly, his ears picking up sounds but his brain too fogged to make sense of any of them.

Kakyoin goes back to sleep.

The second time Kakyoin wakes up, his brain reboots enough for him to feel pressure in his hand, warmth echoing in his fingertips due to it. It takes him a long moment to realize what the pressure means, feeling lax and pliant and boneless, unable to lift from his spot and unwilling to try, warm and dry. Warm and dry…

Someone’s holding my hand.

A flash of blue floats in his mind, then blue and purple, working to get him down from somewhere, and Kakyoin thinks: Jotaro…?

Kakyoin’s heart picks up its pace for the first time in a year and his brain spins because of it, making him black out again.

When Kakyoin wakes up again, he’s able to crack his eyes open into slits, only to squeeze them shut again, brows furrowing sluggishly as the light attacks his retinas. What time is it? Midmorning? It’s so bright…

Rolling his eyes around in their sockets, Kakyoin tries squinting out again, brows trying to furrow into a shield, but the muscles won’t work. He can furrow them for a second, but then his control slips away and they fall flat again.

“Mm,” Kakyoin grunts, only to seize as his entire throat, from the back of his mouth to his trachea, jerks at the sound. His throat is so dry. What the hell?

Kakyoin erupts into coughs, or almost does, at least – the first cough spills out and his entire lower half lights up in agony , and Kakyoin immediately shuts his mouth against the coughs still wanting the spill out, the tickling in the back of his throat so much more preferable to the pain of his stomach that it was not even a conscious decision he had to make.

“Noriaki?”

Kakyoin squints open again, eyes tearing from holding his breath against the coughs, and he sees silver, not blue. A part of his chest sags in disappointment and the urge to cough relinquishes.

“Noriaki?” A deeper voice this time. His dad? Why were his mom and dad here?

…Where exactly is “here?”

Kakyoin tries to roll his gaze around the room, but he can’t make out any shapes, just colors, blurred and meshed together like an abstract, minimalist painting.

“Goodness,” he can hear his father says breathlessly, “I- I’ll go get a doctor,” and then he’s turning and running out the door, footsteps echoing against linoleum floors.

“Noriaki,” His mother cries, surging forward, and Kakyoin distantly thinks, I’ve never seen her cry before, before she’s clutching his hand in both of hers, her whole body shuddering. “Noriaki, Noriaki, are you okay? Can you hear me? Noriaki-” She cuts herself off with a sob and Kakyoin desperately tries to blink rapidly to clear his damn head, but he can’t, the muscles sluggishly following for only a few blinks before falling lax halfway down his eyes.

“Noriaki, honey, please don’t go back to sleep,” His mother cries, and Kakyoin takes a deep breath – or at least tries to, his lungs stuttering when he stretches them too much, making a full breath impossible – before he forces his eyelids completely open again.

“Mm,” He grunts again, and his mother dissolves into incoherent tears, squeezing his hand as if it’s her only tether to the earth, the only thing keeping her from falling into the vast cold darkness of space. Kakyoin needs to look away. He’s never seen his mother cry. What time is it?

There’s a thundering of footsteps, a weaving of voices, timbers and squeaks and shouts all interwoven together to create a quilt of chaos that Kakyoin simply does not have the brain function to sort through right now.

Kakyoin starts to slip back under, but something in him panics, a string attached to his chest jerking him forward when his eyelids start to feel too heavy, startling his brain back to consciousness.

“Uhh-” He rasps, only to gag, something scraping against the back of his throat. What the hell-

“He’s awake!” He can finally make out. Someone jostles his arm, and Kakyoin winces as a sharp pain echoes through the inside of his elbow. An IV-?

Am I in the hospital?

As if slipping on a pair of glasses, suddenly everything makes perfect sense, crisp images jutting into Kakyoin’s sleep-addled mind. DIO, gold, everything moving through honey, cold, cold, COLD, clock tower, tan, gold, gold, Joseph, Polnareff, Jotaro, I’m going to die here, I’m going to die here, blue,

Kakyoin passes back out.

He wakes back up again in the evening. The hospital room is laid in blanketing purple as the night takes hold of the sky, washing away the blue. His mother is not there this time; it is only his father in the chair beside his bed.

Kakyoin grunts softly, only to wince, the sound scraping his dry throat like carbonation.

His father’s gaze darts toward him, and Kakyoin freezes as if he’s a child that’s been caught doing something wrong.

“Noriaki,” he breathes quietly. Kakyoin stays still; he couldn’t really talk with such a dry throat, but even if he could, he isn’t sure what he would say, anyway. How long has it been? Where’s Jotaro? Where’s Polnareff? What happened ?

His father reaches toward Kakyoin’s bedside, grabbing hold of a glass of water and bringing it to Kakyoin’s lips.

“Here,” He says quietly, “the doctors said you’ll be thirsty.”

Kakyoin tries to grunt, but it comes out more like a wheeze, before taking a small sip. The cool water almost immediately is soaked up into the back of his throat, rejuvenating it, and hardly any goes down to his stomach…

…stomach…

Kakyoin blinks as dread sweeps across his chest cavity.

What the hell happened to him? How is he even alive?

He lets out a questioning keen, but his father just encourages him to continue sipping, pressing the water against his lips again. Kakyoin’s heart begins to beat more steadily as he takes a couple more sips, before letting his head fall lax against the pillow, turning to look at his father. It felt like moving through cement.

“...D,” Kakyoin pauses for a second before continuing, “dad.”

His father squeezes his eyes shut, a tremble tracing his shoulders as he places the water back down on the table, before reaching out to take Kakyoin’s hand. “Noriaki,” He says, voice breaking, and Kakyoin’s chest cavity lights up in purple fire due to guilt and dread and regret, so much regret.

Kakyoin wants to ask about his friends; he wants to know if Avdol is okay, if Iggy is okay, he wants to know if Polnareff and Joseph are alive, he wants to know about Jotaro, where are my friends, is DIO dead, how am I alive, why am I alive?

His father brings his free hand up to wipe his eyes.

Kakyoin swallows before rasping, “Where’s mom?”

His father lets out a breath before looking back up at Kakyoin. Kakyoin gets his eyes from him; purple irises and narrowed structure. Kakyoin’s never seen his father cry before, either.

“She’s home,” His father says. “She’s exhausted herself the past several hours. She needed to go home and rest lest she ends up in a hospital bed herself,”

It’s a joke, Kakyoin thinks, but neither of them laugh.

“...Where ‘m I?” He rasps.

His father takes a deep breath, squeezing Kakyoin’s hand. “You’re at Osaka University Hospital.”

Kakyoin blinks, brain chugging along. I’m…home… “How long?”

His father takes a deep breath, squeezing Kakyoin’s hand again. “It might be hard to hear.”

Kakyoin resists rolling his eyes. “How long?” He presses.

His father takes a deep breath. He has more creases than Kakyoin remembered, between his brows, near his mouth. The small burst of irritation fizzles out as regret swamps his chest again, encompassing, consuming, thick like sludge.

“Well…” His father pauses before he looks up to lock eyes with Kakyoin. “You’ve been in an on and off coma for about a year, but you probably don't remember the other times you were awake. You were moved to Osaka from Cairo around the seventh-month mark.”

The regret lining his insides suddenly gets very, very cold, as if being lit up with the coldest fire known to man, making his insides shrivel up. His lips part, but no sound comes out.

A year ? A YEAR?

Where the hell was Jotaro? Where was Mr. Joestar, Polnareff, Avdol, Iggy? Did they make it-

His father’s gaze is flitting over his face, brows furrowed in concern. Kakyoin takes a breath, only to lose grasp of it, his lungs slipping in their task. He grits his teeth, the muscles of his shoulders slightly tensing as if they’d tremble if they weren’t so weak.

Fuck. Weak. Muscle atrophy-

“W- Where are m’ friends?” Kakyoin heaves out, his tongue feeling big and heavy in his mouth, like wet cement.

His father blinks. “...Friends?”

Something in Kakyoin’s chest crumbles. Did they not…are they…are they…no- they can’t be dead- anything but dead-

Kakyoin can distantly hear his heart monitor picking up, but it’s as if he’s underwater, trapped in his own sluggish body as his mind races and cold fills his veins.

“Noriaki,” his father says, “do you mean- the- the men who dragged you out to the desert to die in the first place are your friends?”

Kakyoin blinks. “What?”

“Aren’t they the ones who kidnapped you?”

“What?!”

His father pauses. Kakyoin stares at him with wide eyes, chest bobbing up and down with shallow, fast breaths. His lungs still refuse to inflate enough to get an actual deep breath. His head is spinning like he’s not breathing at all.

“You disappear after we come back from Cairo,” His father starts, “and then come back to us about five months later in a coma and a band of strange men saying they were with you when it happened. What exactly is this, if not you having been kidnapped?”

Kakyoin swallows, tongue still so uncomfortable in his own mouth. How can he even begin to explain? How could he explain this without stands, without the full truth of DIO-

Sensing his distress, his father drops his accusatory and questioning stare, instead looking down at his hands. He sighs, bringing them up to take his glasses off, rubbing his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “it’s late. You should continue resting.”

Kakyoin presses his lips into a line. “They didn’t kidnap me.”

He hesitates, before tacking on, “They…helped me get away from the man who really did.” Sure, that wasn’t necessarily a lie… still such a humiliating half-truth, though, his skin prickling, hot.

His father blinks. “...And what, exactly, happened to the man who did?”

If the rest are still alive, then…

“Dead,” Kakyoin spits. His father immediately stops talking.

A few minutes of silence go by before Kakyoin’s father squeezes his hand again. Kakyoin closes his eyes and pretends to fall asleep. After a few minutes, he really does.

Osaka, Japan

February 10, 1990

His mother can’t look at him without crying.

It’s been about three weeks since he woke up for real, and every single time, his mother will burst into tears once during any conversation they have. It’s gotten to the point he begins to dread her visiting the hospital. He wishes he never went into a coma. He wishes he never woke up.

The good news, at least, is yes, yes, his friends are alive, and Kakyoin’s finally managed to get a damn phone to his ear and call them.

Joseph, of course, was the first person he called, considering his was the number the Speedwagon Foundation had on hand to give Kakyion when he asked. Joseph cried when he spoke, and Kakyoin had pressed his lips into a line over it, staying quiet. Just like mom…

Eventually, though, Joseph collected himself and promised he would visit immediately, which made Kakyoin’s heart soar, the muscle feeling the strongest it’s been since he woke up, steady and fluid and powerful, rushing blood through his body.

“I’ll bring Polnareff and Avdol, of course – they’re going to be so excited,” Joseph rambles, and Kakyion hums, a pleased buzz beginning to spread throughout his body, but someone is missing from Joseph’s lineup.

“And Jotaro?” Kakyoin asks, heart pounding less out of excitement and more out of antsiness now.

Joseph pauses, and Kakyoin’s heart really begins beating in earnest. Did- Did- Did Jotaro not survi-

“He’s- he’s at university right now, actually,” Joseph says, and Kakyoin blinks. Right. I was out for a year. Of course Jotaro’s moved on to the next stage of his life.

Desperation surges through his body like it was being fed to him through his IV.

“I’ll ask if he can come on such short notice,” Joseph promises, and Kakyoin turns back into the present, feeling alarmingly cold all of a sudden, “but he might be too busy. He might need to wait until a long weekend or something.”

Kakyoin nods, disappointment and hope fighting for dominance in his chest. “Right. Of course,” he says softly. His voice has slowly lost its crackly tone as his throat adjusted to speaking again, but it’s still quiet. His vocal cords don’t remember how to be loud. Kakyoin wonders if he could even laugh like he used to like this.

“I’ll see you soon,” Joseph promises. “...I’m so, so happy you’re awake, Kakyoin.”

Kakyoin swallows, throat tightening as the backs of his eyes burn. “...Thank you, Mr. Joestar.”

There’s a pause, a hesitation, before Kakyoin takes a breath, willing the emotion back down his throat. “I’ll see you soon.”

Osaka, Japan

Febuary 20, 1990

Kakyoin’s parents asked to supervise, but they allowed his friends to come – so Kakyoin doesn’t say anything, just glowers as he waits for the minutes to tick to 11 in the morning. Impatience twists in his gut and irritation at being babied makes him particularly restless, but he’s still too weak to do anything. He can’t even play with his fingers without his arms giving out after some minutes. It was pathetic. He was pathe-

The door opens then, and Kakyoin shoots his head up, only for a flash of white to flood his vision as he’s gently, but abruptly, hugged.

Kakyoin blinks rapidly before the smell of cologne and hairspray hits his nose, and his eyes burn as he reaches up to grasp onto Polnareff’s shirt.

His parents let out startled noises, but Kakyoin can’t care. He just buries his face in Polnareff’s shoulder and takes another deep breath of that stupid, stupid cologne of his.

“Kakyoin!” Polnareff shouts jovially, before he pulls back, grinning so widely at Kakyoin that his own cheeks hurt secondhandedly, his muscles tiring out at just the thought of smiling as intensely. “I- I-”

Polnareff pauses, patting Kakyoin’s shoulder with one hand as he reaches up with the other to wipe his eyes, and Kakyoin’s gut lurches. “I’m so glad you’re awake. Welcome back to the land of the living, you poor son of a bitch!”

His parents gasp at the language, and Polnareff blinks, as if only then noticing them. His face burns red when he realizes, and Kakyoin can’t help but laugh out loud, head thrown back.

It isn’t the way he used to laugh, but it’s a laugh nonetheless, and he can’t stop it.

“Hey!” Polnareff snarks and Kakyoin just laughs harder. His stomach hurts but Kakyoin can’t care. He’s missed this so much and he wasn’t even awake to feel the ache. He can’t imagine how Polnareff must feel himself.

“I can just leave if you’re going to laugh at me, you know,” Polnareff whines and Kakyoin just grins, shaking his head slightly and patting Polnareff’s shoulder before sagging against his mattress. “Can you introduce me and stop being a maniac?”

Kakyoin pinches Polnareff’s shoulder and he yelps before glaring at him, but Kakyoin just beams. “Polnareff,”

The glare immediately melts off and Polnareff’s gaze drops as he takes a deep breath.

“I missed you, Kakyoin,” Polnareff says quietly, and Kakyoin’s smile drops a bit. He gently pats Polnareff’s knuckles.

I missed you too.

Clearing his throat, which was already growing sore – great… – Kakyoin turns to his parents. “Mom, dad, this is Polnareff,” He greets, “Polnareff, my mom and dad, Saya and Yasuo.”

Polnareff bows his head politely, which Kakyoin blinks in surprise at. I shouldn’t be, Kakyoin recalls, Polnareff being charming is why Avdol even figured out he was fleshbudded… Still, the Polnareff he knows is the butt of all his jokes – he forgets, sometimes, that Polnareff actually is respectable to most people.

“A pleasure to meet you two properly,” Polnareff says. “Your son…he’s very smart. He’s a good friend.”

Kakyoin loses the breath in his lungs. Huh?

His parents blink in surprise at the change of demeanor, before his mother nods, offering a weak a smile. “It- um, it’s nice to know you’re a friend and not…” she trails off. Polnareff nods his understanding, however.

“Yes,” he says, “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.”

Kakyoin’s eyes narrow.

Before he can ask, however, the door opens again, and Kakyoin turns expectantly, grinning once again when he sees Avdol and Jospeh come through the door, Iggy sitting bored in a baby carrier slung on Joseph’s elbow.

“Kakyoin,” Avdol breathes, beaming, and Kakyoin’s own smile brightens even more, teeth gleaming past his lips.

“Avdol, Joseph,” Kakyoin beams. Iggy lets out an irritated snarl, startling his parents, but Kakyoin just rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

“Dog,” He offers. Iggy stands up in his basket and glares at Kakyoin, making Kakyoin laugh again. It’s different, it’s new, but it doesn’t have to be bad.

“Oh, get on over here,” Kakyoin beckons, and three out of his four friends swamp him.

Joseph sets Iggy’s basket down at the foot of his bed before jostling Polnareff and Avdol down, all lightly wrapping their arms around Kakyoin’s frame. Kakyoin is smiling so wide his cheeks hurt, the muscles slipping in their attempt to stay tensed for so long, but Kakyoin doesn’t care.

“You son of a bitch, I really thought you were going to die on us!” Joseph guffaws in loud, rough English, and it hits Kakyoin then that he’s been out for a year, and that Joseph is 70 now. 70.

Shit.

“Oh, fuck off,” Kakyoin snarks in English, “it’ll take more than that to kill me.” Avdol hides a wry smirk behind a prosthetic hand, similar to Joseph’s but gold in color. Kakyion stares openly, enamored with how the color glitters against Avdol’s dark skin, complementing the warm tone of it.

“You’re like a cockroach, huh, Kakyoin?” Avdol teases gently, and Kakyoin barks out a laugh before wincing, pain lacing up his spine over the sharp expansion of his diagram, and the room immediately goes quiet.

Hair prickling, Kakyoin glances up and around the room. Everyone has frozen, staring at him in concern, and Kakyoin’s skin crawls over it, the gazes tearing holes into him.

Shifting his jaw, Kakyoin spits out the first thing that comes to mind to break the silence: “Where’s Jotaro?”

The silence stays, but it shifts, less focused on Kakyoin; his friends’ eyes drop while his parents’ stay focused on them, confusion clear in their expressions.

Kakyoin’s fingers clench weakly against his blankets, the fabric scratchy against the skin, making him twitch.

Joseph clears his throat, patting Iggy absentmindedly, who nips at his metal fingers.

“Ah- he…couldn’t make it,” Joseph says after whipping his hand away from the terrier, who sniffs before sliding out of his baby carrier, making himself at home on the blankets near Kakyoin’s feet.

Kakyoin waits, but he doesn’t elaborate. He shifts his jaw, pushing back the knee-jerk thought of Is it really that hard to just hop a train and come see your friend who’s been in a year-long coma?

Kakyoin takes a deep, subtle breath. Okay. This is fine. It’s fine. It’s just like Joseph said: he’s at school. He can’t put his life on hold just because mine was.

Something still stings and burns underneath his ribs, and it makes him feel particularly pathetic, so he grits his teeth in a way he hopes looks like a smile and shakes his head. “Ah.”

He swallows, trying to compose himself. No one breaks the silence and it makes his skin crawl and his irritation spike white hot in his chest.

“Well.” He switches to Japanese then, inclining his head toward Joseph, Avdol, and Iggy jerkily. “Mom, dad, this is Avdol, Joseph, and Iggy- er, Avdol’s dog.”

His voice comes out flat and his friends don’t miss this, exchanging glances. Kakyoin wants to tear his hair out. Stop pitying me, stop pitying me, stop pitying m-

“Ah,” his mother says, switching to shaky English, glancing at the men and dog in question from head to toe, brows furrowed, calculating. “Nice to meet you. Saya…call me Saya.”

“Yasuo,” pipes up his father.

Avdol bows his head politely, while Joseph waves awkwardly. Iggy, of course, rubs his butt against Kakyoin’s foot. Kakyoin squints down at him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well,” Avdol says in only slightly accented Japanese, and his parents blink in surprise before taking it in stride, their shoulders relaxing the tiniest bit.

“So,” Joseph transitions, drawing Kakyoin’s attention away from Iggy’s eccentricities, “how are you feeling?”

Once again, all eyes return to him. Kakyoin twitches, which makes his spine reverberate, which is a weird sensation because it’s so numb as it does. Kakyoin closes his eyes to avoid the stares, skin prickling. “Fine.”

He opens his eyes then, turning to Avdol. “How are you? Is- are you alright?”

Avdol smiles and a part of Kakyoin relaxes, falling back against the bed. “I’m alright. It was hard, at first, but,” he lifts his prosthetic, gently clenching his fingers before he goes and pats Iggy. Iggy opens an eye to stare but doesn’t attack. Kakyoin is vaguely reminded of the fact that Avdol is the only one who was allowed to pet Iggy on the journey. At least something hasn’t changed.

Soured at the thought, Kakyoin just nods. “I’m happy for you,” he says in a tone that is far more plastically polite than he would have preferred it to be when meeting with his friends at the end of everything, but this wasn’t really the end of the journey, was it? It was after the end. This is the remnant. Something in Kakyoin burns cold, right where his stomach should be. Maybe that’s what happened to it.

“Oh! Oh! Me too!” Polnareff butts in, and Kakyoin exhales before turning to him. Polnareff wiggles his fingers, and only then does Kakyoin realize Polnareff is missing his ring and little fingers on his left hand.

“I’m not wearing my prosthetic today,” Polnareff comments, “but that’s because I don’t need it as much. But it’s healed pretty well! Looks more like I just wasn’t born with them than that they got torn off, haha…”

Kakyoin hums, staring at the smoothed-over nubs, the skin healthy and mostly the same color as the surrounding. Kakyoin is reminded of the mess of scar tissue that now makes up his entire torso, how it’ll never heal right, even the parts that weren’t damaged to begin with, because those were what were used for the skin grafts. Kakyoin sinks down a bit in his bed.

The shift in his mood in palpable, and it just makes Kakyoin feel even weaker as his friends exchange worried glances above his head, as if he can’t see, as if he’s so self-absorbed he wouldn’t notice such an obvious tell, as if he needs to be taken care of-

“Are…how is the healing coming along?” Avdol asks then. Kakyoin twitches and Iggy yelps, the subtle jerk of Kakyoin’s leg knocking against one of his.

No, Kakyoin realizes, the absence of his leg. Iggy twists around, moving the nub away from Kakyoin’s finicky ankle, huffing as he glares at Kakyoin from over his shoulder. He moves so fluidly, despite the awkward terrain of lumpy hospital blankets and not having a leg, and Kakyoin comes to the mortifying realization he’s so out of practice he can’t even move like a dog can right now.

He feels like he’s burning alive. He feels like lava and gore and he wishes, maybe, they shouldn’t have come so soon. I should’ve woken up sooner. I should’ve never woken up at all.

“Kakyoin?” He remembers he was asked a question.

“Fine,” Kakyoin spits out. His voice is rough, but it’s been rough, so it’s easy to hide. Almost a year of not drinking anything directly would make anyone’s voice gravelly, and for once, Kakyoin is grateful. “The skin grafts are-” not good, they’re bumpy and red and so, so, gross compared to Polnareff or Avdol “-in place. Apparently, the first couple failed, but now I don’t have a hole in me anymore.”

Kakyoin’s voice is too flat, and the joke – was it a joke or a barb? He’s not sure – echoes it. His parents’ faces fall while his friends shift uncomfortably.

Kakyoin takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. It’s not their fault. It’s not even yours. Chill the fuck out. You chose this. DIO did it, but you chose it.

“...They’re gonna put some rods in my spine next week,” Kakyoin murmurs then, voice softer, “so I can begin trying out physical therapy – or at least sitting up.”

Polnareff beams at the news and Avdol smiles.

“It’ll be a bit of a gamble,” His mother pipes up in English. Kakyoin jerks his gaze to her and she meets it evenly. “But I know if anyone can handle it, it’ll be you, Noriaki.”

Kakyoin swallows thickly. He drops his gaze.

“Be sure to get rest before and after the procedure,” Avdol says. “You’ll want to be unconscious for as much of the process it takes for your body to get used to the new additions as you can.”

Kakyoin bites back a comment Is that what you did, then? , deeming it too rude, just nodding stiffly instead. His head is starting to get fuzzy, and for once, he welcomes it as the painkillers in his IV begin their bihourly run into his system. It’s cold against his anger, washing it out, and Kakyoin closes his eyes as the wildfire of desperation in his chest is soothed.

“He needs some rest now, too,” He can hear his mother comment. “His painkillers are sent out every two hours; they must be going through his system again now.”

Kakyoin could protest – he’s not exactly tired, not yet, he has a few more minutes of coherency – but he does nothing as his parents lead his friends out of the room, promises of “You can continue talking tomorrow when he’s awake,” echoing in his head.

A part of him is relieved, and he hates it. He’s missed so much, and now he’s missing more? He’s choosing to miss more? For what, this- this…

…sleep?

Kakyoin takes a deep breath. Once he’s out of the hospital, he is never sleeping again, not until he’s caught up. His heart beats painfully in his chest despite the painkillers trying to soothe it. I need to catch up. I’ve got to catch up. I’ve got to catch up, I’ve got to catch up -

He falls unconscious.

His friends stick around for a few more days after that, but Kakyoin’s mood doesn’t necessarily get any better, unless the painkillers make his mind too fuzzy to remember what he’s even pissy about.

But he also forgets to be ashamed of his own self when Iggy jumps up on the second day, snatching Kakyoin’s hospital food right out of his mother’s hands, much to her affrontment and Kakyoin’s shrieking laughter. Avdol abashedly scolds him as he chews, but Kakyoin can’t stop laughing, and Polnareff, Joseph, and eventually Avdol join in.

He forgets to be mad when Polnareff teaches him a new card game and Kakyoin wins on his first try, smiling smugly when Polnareff groans and hands him money, not noticing Hierophant slip away after Kakyoin had his stand gently reshuffle the deck, one card at a time, in order to get the better hand.

He forgets to be bitter when Avdol shows up early one morning with chai tea, winking at him and saying, “They say only liquids for now, right?” before pouring them both cups, his own with some lemon, Kakyoin’s pure chai, and Kakyoin can pretend the blur in his vision is because he sipped when it was too hot.

He forgets to feel desperation burning his energy out before he can even get started on anything when Joseph presents a check to his parents, intending for it to cover his trans-continental medical bills and soon-to-begin physical therapy, and his squawking at his parents’ huff that they can take care of their son on their own, thank you, Mr. American Millionaire. Joseph tuts and turns to Kakyoin, shaking his head like Can you believe this? And Kakyoin just laughs out loud before saying, “Mr. Joestar, how expensive do you think medical care is, exactly, in the rest of the world?” and Joseph’s following flush.

But his friends leave, and soon all Kakyoin has is the medicine, but it makes him so damn tired. He can’t keep sleeping; he wakes up even more desperate every time he does, his heart beating faster and faster every time he opens his eyes.

I’ve got to catch up, I’ve got to catch up, I’ve got to catch up.

His chest hurts.

And where is Jotaro?

Osaka, Japan

Febuary 26, 1990

A few days after his friends leave, Holly arrives.

At first, Kakyoin doesn’t even recognize her: with no apron and her hair now cropped short into a pixie cut, Kakyoin’s drug-addled mind almost mistakes her for a new nurse until she takes a seat by his bedside and gently sets a basket of fruit on his bedside table.

Stirring, Kakyoin narrows his eyes, trying to focus, but she speaks and the hair on his neck tingles.

“Sorry for waking you,” she says in Japanese that’s only slightly accented, and Kakyoin jerks, blinking rapidly as his vision refocuses.

“M- Mrs. Holly?” Kakyoin asks dumbly, the dredges of his doze and his painkillers blurring his brain into his skull, making it hard to think.

She smiles, her crow’s feet crinkling a bit, and Kakyoin wakes up a little more at the realization that, Yes, Mrs. Holly is here. What is she doing here?

“What are you doing here?” Kakyoin asks, only to snap his jaw shut at his own impoliteness. Holly just chuckles, however, brows furrowing in a way that doesn’t read quite right, but Kakyoin can’t place why.

“I’m sort of surprised you remember my name!” Holly chuckles, and Kakyoin’s brows crease in confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I remember?”

She shrugs. “We only talked once. I figured you’d only remember me as ‘Mrs. Kujo,’ not ‘Mrs. Holly.”

“Jojo always called you Holly,” Kakyoin blurts out, “so that’s what- that’s what stuck.”

Holly immediately goes quiet, not outright freezing, but pausing, becoming very, very still. Kakyoin blinks as his consciousness sharpens a bit more, the outline of his brain starting to stand out more against his skull.

“He did?” She asks quietly. Kakyoin stays silent, instead trying to read her face. Her gaze is intentionally focused on the basket of fruit she had set down, her face pinched in a way that doesn’t quite match the upward curl of her lip, which is slowly slipping.

Holly blinks after just a second, though, and Kakyoin doesn’t get to see what her facade was slipping off of. “Oh! Sorry. Yes, of course…well, I’m flattered, anyway.”

Kakyoin squints, but Holly moves forward before he can open his mouth.

“Your mother mentioned you like sweet things, so I brought you some fruit, as a sort of…” Holly smooths her skirt, taking a deep breath, before glancing up and meeting Kakyoin’s eye for the first time in the conversation. “Well, to say thank you.”

Kakyoin blinks. “What are you thanking me for?”

Holly blinks in turn. “What do you mean?”

Kakyoin shifts uncomfortably, dropping his gaze. “I…I appreciate the fruit, Mrs. Holly, but- I mean, I only woke up. You don’t need to thank me for that…” A thought occurs to him, and his heart releases a burst of adrenaline, straight from his chest. Unless Jotaro asked-?

“It’s not ‘only,’” Holly comments, lip curling a bit in her firmness. It reminds Kakyoin of a dog a little bit. “You woke up from almost a year-long coma, that’s something to be proud of!”

Kakyoin skims his teeth against the inside of his lip but says nothing. Holly continues without his prompting anyway.

“And…well…” Holly sighs, the folds of her crow’s feet not quite landing right with the weight of the expression on her face. Kakyoin’s brow furrows. “You only got into that coma while on a journey to save my life. I don’t pretend that that was the only reason…but Papa – Joseph – mentioned it was a factor. That you had said it was a factor.”

Kakyoin is quiet, mind slowly sharpening and blurring as the medication runs through his system, like the focus of a microscope. I didn’t do it for you. I didn’t want you to die, but I didn’t do it for you…

Finally, he shakes his head. “It’s true I didn’t want you to die,” Kakyoin says, “but…” he takes a deep breath. This is awkward… “I didn’t…I didn’t do it to be thanked.”

Holly chuckles. “Of course not. I don’t think anyone would go this far for a thanks.” Her face turns serious then, eyes gleaming, and Kakyoin sits up straight. The resemblance between her and Jotaro has never been clearer. “But, if I’m being honest, this is more a thanks for you protecting Papa and Jotaro than for protecting me. I know they can both be stubborn and refuse help…” Holly shakes her head. “So…thank you. For taking care of them, when I couldn’t.”

Kakyoin stays silent then. You don’t know the lengths I'd go for them. You don’t know the lengths I’ve already gone. They’re my family too.

  …At least this reasoning is a thanks I can accept, though.

Kakyoin takes a breath, shaking his head. “I…yes. Of course. They need someone with a brain.”

Holly laughs, but it sounds a little wet, and to his horror, Kakyoin watches as she dabs her eyes with her sleeve. “I- ha! Yes. Yes…”

“Mrs. Holly…?”

Holly waves a hand, smiling at Kakyoin. “I’m sorry. I just…I really am grateful. Papa…he told me, without you, he’d be dead- he and Jotaro both would be dead, so- so-” She takes a deep breath while Kakyoin sits, tense and awkward. “So thank you.”

Kakyoin presses his mouth into a slight line. “It…it was my pleasure.”

Holly beams then and Kakyoin isn’t sure what to do about it.

“Ah, well,” Holly lightly claps her hands together, jerking Kakyoin out of his reprieve. “I shouldn’t eat up all your time – I didn’t even expect to get to talk to you today, so I guess I just got a little ahead of myse-”

“Wait,” Kakyoin interjects, surprising both himself and Holly.

Opening and closing his mouth once, twice, Kakyoin presses his lips into a line as embarrassment burns through him before he spits out, “I- thank you. For the fruit.”

Holly smiles then, nodding. “Of course. It’s…the least I can do-”

“Um. I can’t eat it, though.”

Holly stares for a moment, before she gasps, straightening and covering her mouth. “I- oh my god-” -the phrase reminds Kakyoin so starkly of Joseph that something in his gut burns, and he almost panics, thinking his pain medication had somehow worn off- “I’m so sorry, I completely forgot you aren’t allowed solid food yet! I’m so sorry-”

“It- no- it’s okay,” Kakyoin assures. “I just…um. Stay and eat some, then…since I can’t. Enjoy it for me.”

Holly blinks before she smiles – it’s soft though, her brows furrowing downward and eyes darting down, the wrinkles near her lower lids becoming more obvious with the movement. “Oh. You’re very kind, Kakyoin, but I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

“Please,” Kakyoin can’t help but scoff, “It’s so boring here, so think of it as a favor if you need to.”

Holly hesitates a little longer before nodding, settling back down in the chair beside his cot. “I…well. Thank you, Kakyoin.”

Kakyoin doesn’t say anything, discomfort prickling under his skin. She says thank you so much…

Holly hesitates before reaching over and picking up an orange. She stares at it for a moment before sighing, digging a fingernail into the peel, and beginning to unravel it. “How have you been feeling, Kakyoin?”

Kakyoin’s eyes narrow. Everyone asks him this. “Just…fine. The painkillers are being weaned off, but right now I still can’t really feel anything because of them.”

Holly nods. “That’s good that you’re not in pain. I hope it doesn’t get too bad as the painkillers are taken away.”

Kakyoin hums, glancing down at the sheets. As it stands, he can’t even move his toes. It’s a little surreal, staring at the fold of blanket where he knows his foot is – or so he assumes. He can’t feel it. It’s so… weird.

Holly finishes unpeeling the orange, but she doesn’t take a slice, instead just staring at it. She isn’t smiling, something in her eyes distant and sad. Kakyoin can’t take it, irritation flashing in his chest. Why is this room always such a pity party?

“How’s- how’s Jotaro?” He ends up spitting out.

Holly goes very, very still. Why does everyone react like that when Jotaro comes up? He is alive, so why-

“He’s…” Holly’s voice is soft, eyes glazed, and Kakyoin would feel bad for asking if he didn’t wasn’t so depserate to know what was going on.

“Did something happen?” Kakyoin cuts to the point, voice edged and a pitch higher. “No one will talk to me about him without hesitating. Did- Did DIO-” Did he do something to him the way he did something to me-?

“No, no,” Holly quickly cuts in, taking a deep breath, before smiling warmly. It doesn’t reach her eyes and it makes Kakyoin twitch at the glaze it tries to paint over him, stiff and sticky and uncomfortable. “He’s- he’s okay. DIO didn’t injure… He’s okay.”

Holly takes another pause, but she continues before Kakyoin can grow even more impatient. “He’s, um, in America.”

Kakyoin blinks, the tinder that was starting to light in his chest immediately going out, his lungs like deflated balloons. “He’s…what?”

Holly smiles, but she doesn’t lift her gaze from her lap. “He’s going to university in America. He got accepted to the University of Miami. It’s, um…” Holly’s smile fades. “He’s just started his second semester.”

Kakyoin opens and closes his mouth, staring dumbly at Holly. …America?

…No wonder he couldn’t just hop a train to visit.

I need to catch up.

A part of Kakyoin clings to the reasoning, but another part hesitates, caught up in Holly’s heavy lids and brows, like the weight of the world was pressing in on her.

“Did he, um…visit?” Kakyoin asks weakly. “...During break?” Did I wake up right after his break ended? What exactly is his schedule?

Holly clears her throat. “Um, he…no, he didn’t come home for winter break. Said it, uh…wouldn’t be worth the trouble.”

Kakyoin blinks before his brows furrow. “A- aren’t- don’t American schools have long breaks, though?”

Holly tries to smile – or so Kakyoin thinks; it looks more like she’s trying not to cry. “Yes, but…he’s just…he’s busy. He wants to get in good with the professors so he can get an internship as fast as possible. He has a plan, but he hasn’t told me what, yet. Just that he’d do his best…”

Holly smiles, but it’s still too stiff, and it echoes how confused and rattled Kakyoin feels a little too well. “He is. Doing his best, I mean. I know he is. I’m…so proud of him…”

It almost comes out like a question, like Holly isn’t sure if she should praise this behavior. Kakyoin swallows thickly.

“Well,” he says, voice heavy, “he…Jojo never did things halfheartedly.”

Holly chuckles, but it’s a tad darker than the comment called for. “Yes. That’s true.”

Kakyoin squirms, uncomfortable. He isn’t sure what to make of the new revelations.

He can’t put his life on hold just because mine was.

The thought rings heavy and low in Kakyoin’s head, echoing down to his chest. Don’t be selfish, a part of him whispers. I deserve to be a little selfish, snaps back another part, the same part that’s beginning to claw at Kakyoin’s soft tissues from the inside out.

A nurse pops his head in then, saving Kakyoin and Holly from the conversation. “Um, Mrs. Kujo, Mr. Kakyoin will be getting another dose of medicine soon, so he should rest.”

Holly jumps before nodding, placing her uneaten orange back in the basket. “Oh, of course.”

She turns to Kakyoin then, smiling sheepishly, sadly. “Um, I’m sorry about that. Thank you for humoring me.”

“I should be saying that,” Kakyoin replies dazedly.

Holly shrugs, still with that awful smile. “Well…still. Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

Kakyoin opens his mouth, but he can’t respond. Holly doesn’t really wait for him to, anyway; she gets up, smooths her skirt, then heads to the door with the nurse. Kakyoin hesitates before calling, “Wait!”

Holly turns then.

Flame flickering under his skin, Kakyoin mutters, “Um…I…” I have no way of contacting Jotaro. “Feel free to visit again,” he says instead.

Holly blinks before smiling, and Kakyoin lets out a breath – it’s a real one this time, one that pinches her crow’s feet like a smile on a woman her age is supposed to.

“Thank you, Kakyoin,” she says. Kakyoin just nods, only feeling minorly guilty over his ulterior motive.

Holly leaves.

Osaka, Japan

April 9, 1990

“Nori!” cheers Ryoko from the other side of the walkway, pumping her little fist in the air. “Come on Nori! You can do it!”

Kakyoin grits his teeth and avoids snapping at her. She’s being supportive, seethes the only good part of him. She’s being annoying, snarls the rest. Kakyoin stays quiet.

“One step at a time,” the physical therapist by his side is saying, arms at the ready in case he collapses. He knows that’s just part of her job, that the hands hovering beside him are not there due to doubt but due to safety, but he can feel something in his cheek twitch as his grip tightens around the bars. He shuffles his feet forward.

A couple of months ago, he finally had surgery to place expandable rods in his lower back and metal disks all throughout his spine so he could hopefully learn to walk again. Physical therapy had been fine for the first while – it was mostly about seeing if he could wake up the nerves in his legs again at all with some small flexing.

But now it was time for walking, and Kakyoin is reminded his arms had atrophied too, with how they shake and buckle under his weight. I used to be fine. I used to be able to hold more than my own weight.

Gritting his teeth and hating the bead of sweat rolling down his forehead more than anything in the world, Kakyoin slides his sweaty palms forward, dragging his numb feet along with him. His toes twitch, but his legs don’t move.

“Mr. Kakyoin,” the nurse says pleasantly, “try and move your legs instead of drag-”

“I’m trying,” Kakyoin snaps unthinkingly before he cringes, hanging his head down. “...I- I’m sorry.”

The nurse says nothing, keeping her professionalism. “Just try again,” she says. “I know it’s frustrating. It won’t be quick, but every bit adds to the whole.”

Kakyoin sucks in a deep breath that immediately wooshes back out of his lungs and then, arms shaking, slides forward again with his hands and tries to at least jerk his legs forward.

His thighs twitch, spazzing, one leg sort of swinging before stopping. Kakyoin puts all his might into tensing his leg, but the muscles don’t respond. Kakyoin can’t tell if it’s because of weakness or the disconnect from his brain with his fucked up spine.

His hands curl even tighter around the balance bar, nails reaching his palms and digging into the skin.

It shouldn’t be so hard to walk just TWO METERS-

Kakyoin grunts, chest heaving, nerves jerking, sweat beading on his forehead, slipping down, just like his stupid fucking legs-

“Come on!” Kakyoin snaps haggardly, feeling a strand of his bangs beginning to get weighed down with dampness. It was infuriating.

A dull ache was starting to reach up from his lower back, spreading throughout his hips, tingling down into the bone past the skin and muscle. Kakyoin clenches his teeth and wills and-

His leg shoots forward and he gasps in relief, jerking his palms along to keep his balance, the rush of air as he shoots forward cooling the sweat on his forehead-

His spine then explodes in pain, like an engined switched on, hot and burning and fuck, he was going to die, he was dying, he was dying-

Kakyoin drops, sweat-slicked palms slipping off the balance bar, and down he goes, crumpling. He lands awkwardly, legs unresponsive to his brain’s attempts to get them to cushion his fall, and he sits awkwardly on his tailbone as a result. His nerve do not like this- ohh, they do not like it, he really is dying, everything fucking hurts-

His stomach starts hurting then, a dull ache where his guts should be, and Kakyoin swallows thickly to get the bile to back off-

“Mr. Kakyoin!” Hands on his shoulders, his nerves are too sensitive, everything hurts so much please-

“Ryoko-chan, grab a doctor!” He can faintly hear past the ringing in his ears, and he glances up just in time to see his frightened baby cousin dart out of the room, nodding her head jerkily before she does.

“Wa- wait,” Kakyoin wheezes, if he’s dying he wants someone there, not alone, not again, please he doesn’t want to be ALONE AGAIN-

The physical therapist is talking to him, words he can’t hear, and her grip on his shoulders tightens, his legs are numb his feet are tingling his back hurts, it hurt,s it hurts, it hurts-

Kakyoin throws up and his vision goes black.

Osaka, Japan

August 21, 1990

It’s near the end of summer when Polnareff and Avdol visit again in person for his birthday.

They’re laughing as they come in, Iggy once again in a baby carrier slung on Polnareff’s arm. It jerks Kakyoin out of his painkiller-induced doze; they’re still lowering his dosages, but he’s at a more stable level now, with most of his doses being shot in during the evening so they put him to sleep and in the morning. It’s nice, Kakyoin thinks sleepily as he blinks, tapping at the controls of his hospital cot to sit himself up, to not have to worry about insomnia bouts anymore.

“Kakyoin!” Polnareff calls, reaching over to ruffle Kakyoin’s hair. Kakyoin jerks, face immediately twisting into a scowl, only to furrow his brows and hiss in pain when fire flares up his spine. Polnareff immediately retracts his hand and a part of Kakyoin burns even hotter. I’m not going to break-

“How are you feeling, Kakyoin?” Avdol asks, and Kakyoin needs to bite back any smart comments.

This takes most of his brainpower, however, and he ends up just replying with, “Cold.”

Avdol blinks while Kakyoin scowls at his own ineloquence. “Cold?”

Kakyoin rolls his eyes. “They – the nurses – always say I’m so pale, but then they never open my curtains cause ‘you’ll get sunburned!’ or something. It’s freezing in here, though…I’d love to see the sun.”

Avdol and Polnareff exchange glances before Polnareff shrugs and says, “Well, the sun isn’t angled on you right now anyway, so…”

He gets up then, striding over to Kakyoin’s window, then pulls apart the blue curtains, letting in the midmorning sunlight from outside.

Kakyoin blinks as he stares out; he can see the rise of buildings around the hospital and a pale blue sky with no cloud in sight. It’s a beautiful day, he muses. I want to be out there…

He can’t tell if there’s a small breeze or not. His skin itches to feel one.

“What’s all this?”

Kakyoin’s attention is diverted to Avdol, who’s gesturing with shiny golden fingers to the stack of books near his bedside.

“Oh,” Kakyoin says, eyes trailing down the list of titles. He’s read more than he’s realized. “Those are from Mrs. Holly — Jojo’s mom.”

“Holly?!” Polnareff hollers, making Kakyoin scowl at his volume. “She’s visited?”

Kakyoin rolls his eyes lightheartedly. “Obviously. She’s signed the inside covers of the books with little notes if you don’t believe me.”

Polnareff immediately snatches one up while Avdol smiles, settling in a chair beside Kakyoin’s bedside. Iggy yips and Polnareff yelps while Avdol cringes, gaze darting to the door.

“Iggy!” he scoulds, “we promised you could only come up if you kept quiet!”

Kakyoin bites back a bubble of chuckles. “Di- did you sneak Iggy in here?”

“Both times,” Avdol says before turning to Iggy, shushing him and pulling him up out of the carrier and onto Kakyoin’s cot. Iggy huffs, rolling his eyes in a rather human-like way, before he sniffs at Kakyoin and then settles by the foot of his cot again.

Kakyoin laughs out loud, ignoring the small murmurs of pain his stomach sends out over it. “Avdol,” He giggles, “you- you-”

“Shh!” Avdol shushes, glancing at the door. Polnareff begins laughing then, settling in the chair on Kakyoin’s other side.

“Get this; it was his idea both times, too,” Polnareff says conspiratorily.

“Polnareff!” Avdol nearly shrieks, hiding his face in his metal hands. “I- I have a reputation, you can just say I volunteered to bring in an unsanitary dog into a hospi-”

Iggy growls then and Kakyoin throws his head back against his pillows, laughing out right. His stomach hurts, dampening his mood, sharp spears of pain shooting up with every sudden inhale he takes, but Kakyoin doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

“Wa-wait,” Kakyoin snickers, “what did you say? Did you really just say Iggy was a baby?”

“He said he was my baby!” Polnareff complains. Avdol groans. “Because of the ‘white hair’! Iggy’s fur is black!”

“And white,” Avdol weakly shoots back, squinting up at Polnareff. “He is also white.”

Polnareff rolls his eyes good naturedly. “The black ruins the whole ‘family resemblance’ you try to push though!”

Avdol purses his lips, eyes narrowing. Kakyoin almost opens his mouth, but then Avdol smirks and clicks his tongue. “The family resemblance is more the facial features than the pigmentation…”

Polnareff blinks before turning as red as Kakyoin’s hair was when he first dyed it at 15, and Kakyoin howls, guffawing despite the pain continuously racking up his sides as Polnareff sputters, “I- you- are you saying I look like a dog?!”

Avdol shrugs innocently and Kakyoin shrieks with laughter, but it’s cut short when pain too sharp to ignore shoots through his stomach, and he immediately cuts himself off, hissing abruptly.

With no hesitation, Avdol and Polnareff stop their banter, turning concerned gazes and hovering hands to Kakyoin. “Are you okay?” Polnareff asks, dropping his faux-offended sneer, brows now twisting in such pity.

Kakyoin can feel his lip twitch. “Fine.” He coughs lightly, mortifyingly, before he shakes his head, ignoring the way his muscles ache and spasm against his ribs.

“Kakyoin-” Avdol starts to say, metal hands reaching for him, gears clicking smoothly in his fingers, and Kakyoin squeezes his eyes shut.

“ I’m fine,” He snaps again, “I’m not a baby, can you both calm down?”

The room is blanketed in tense silence, with Avdol’s brows furrowed and Polnareff’s eyes narrowed calculatingly on Kakyoin’s form. The hair rises on the back of Kakyoin’s neck. Stop fucking looking at me like that. I’m not broken, I’m not broken, I’m not fucking broken.

Iggy is the one to break the silence, something outside making him perk his ears and howl outright. Avdol immediately cringes and Polnareff whips his head to face him, shushing him aggressively.

“Iggy!”

Kakyoin snickers before shaking his head, attempting to nudge Iggy with his foot, but the muscles don’t even twitch. Kakyoin’s mirth drips off his face, scowling down at his own legs. Thankfully, Avdol and Polnareff are too preoccupied with shushing Iggy to notice, Kakyoin realizes, before he schools his features. Irritation lurks in his chest. Can’t do shit. Gotta catch up, gotta catch up, gotta

“Anyway,” Avdol sighs after giving Iggy a stick of coffee gum, the dog smugly chewing with his mouth open as his stumpy tail wags slowly. “So, Holly has visited? What about anyone else?”

Kakyoin purses his lips. “Well, my parents, obviously.”

Avdol snorts. “Well, of course. I just meant…” he hesitates, and Kakyoin’s eyes narrow. “...Has Jojo come by, yet?”

Kakyoin blinks before his chest sags down, disappointment and bitterness sloshing like a particularly dense, cold liquid, right around his sternum, where the hole in his body is. “No. He’s at school, isn’t he?”

Avdol and Polnareff exchange glances which make Kakyoin bristle, but Polnareff pipes up before Kakyoin can get really riled up. “Well, sure, but American schools have, like, really long summer vacations.”

Kakyoin pauses. “Do they now,” he asks icily.

Avdol sighs, shaking his head, rubbing his forehead gently with the fingers of his prosthetic. “...I’m worried about him,” Avdol admits. “He hasn’t talked to us much, either.”

At least he’s talked to you at all, Kakyoin thinks unfairly, but he has enough tact not to say it out loud. …At least it’s not personal, then. Right?

Kakyoin stares at the prosthetics of his friends and thinks of the hole in his stomach. He thinks of Holly’s words – DIO didn’t injure…no. He’s okay. Something sharp surges in him.

Polnareff glances between him and Avdol for a moment before he clears his throat, shaking his head. “So, any idea when you’re getting out of this joint?”

“Polnareff,” Avdol scolds, but Kakyoin takes the distraction, shrugging while also scowling.

“No. With this stupid fucking muscle atrophy, they-” Kakyoin cuts himself off, sucking in a deep breath. Why can’t any conversation with my friends these days just be pleasant? He thinks sourly. A coma for one year. His fingers itch, but they don’t have the energy to twitch. I need to fucking catch up.

“Ah, right,” Polnaeff stammers, and Kakyoin just closes his eyes and clenches his jaw tight, stomach rolling, tongue curling with cruel words he wouldn’t mean if he let out. It’s no one’s fault but- it’s not his fault, dammit, why-

“Do…” Avdol clears his throat, clasping his metal hands together. Kakyoin’s eyes shoot open and he squints at them wearily. Gold… “Do you need tips? Physical therapy was hard for me, too, at first, but Mr. Joesta-”

“No,” Kakyoin snarls with a venom that surprises even himself, his throat aching with the sharpness his voice exhibited, something in his chest plunging into cold water immediately after the word leaves his mouth.

Avdol and Polnareff both go silent. Iggy’s ears flop down sharply against his head, down low against his skull. Kakyoin stares at his – useless, useless, USELESS – feet.

Kakyoin opens and closes his mouth, but he can’t take back the single word. Kakyoin swallows thickly, averting his gaze out the window. He can just imagine the faint scent of pollen and grass. He doesn’t know what floor he’s on, he realizes. He might be too high to smell the earth.

A machine by his side clicks, and Kakyoin can feel coolness stream into his veins as his pain medication is delivered. Immediately, he relaxes, sinking into his pillows, his eyelids growing heavier at just the thought of relief, but he keeps them open.

I’m sorry, he wants to say. Instead, he opens his mouth and says, softly, “Where are you two living now?”

Avdol flushes red at the fact Kakyoin didn’t even question if they were traveling together, stammering, while Polnareff laughs loudly, his own face also tinting pink.

“We’re, ah, kinda just exploring together,” Polnareff admits. “We went back to New York with Mr. Joestar for a while, but,” his nose wrinkles then, sniffing. “That city is disgusting.”

Kakyoin snorts while Avdol chuckles. Avdol turns his gaze from Kakyoin to Polnareff, and Kakyoin gets a front row seat to how Avdol’s face relaxes, brows tilting upward as he stares at the man with a small smile on his face. Kakyoin has half the mind to gag, but Polnareff would notice then, and he’s not that shit of a friend.

Polnareff glances up anyway then, and his face tints a little redder. Kakyoin snorts, teeth showing from his snicker, and Polnareff scoffs at him before standing up, heading to the window.

“Hope you don’t have allergies,” Polnareff snarks, “cause I want some air.”

Kakyoin tries to respond, but his tongue is starting to feel like cotton in his mouth as the pain medication takes effect. Instead, he waves Polnareff off, shooting a raised brow toward Avdol like, Get a load of this guy.

“You better hope he doesn’t, or else his nurses will hunt you down,” Avdol jokes, and Polnareff huffs goodnaturedly.

Avdol smiles at him and Kakyoin can almost forget his outburst. Polnareff slides open the window and the next inhale Kakyoin takes, he can smell grass clippings and the faint remains of the morning’s dew, and he smiles, closing his eyes.

The pain medication makes Kakyion forget the ball of lead in his gut, and he thinks, I like myself better this way before he falls asleep.

Chapter Text

Osaka, Japan

October 13, 1990

“Are you mad at me?” Ryoko asks one day as she and Kakyoin play rock paper scissors idly, which more often than not results in Kakyoin using Hierophant to distract her so he can switch his hand to beat her own.

Kakyoin blinks, glancing up at her. Her face is unexpressive for a nine-year-old’s, staring down at Kakyoin’s blanket rather than up at him.

“Why would I be mad at you?” Kakyoin asks.

Ryoko’s cheeks puff up then, her face sliding into a grimace. Kakyoin frowns. “Ryon-Ryon, what’s wrong?”

Ryoko stares down at her hands before looking up finally, brown eyes wide. “The man,” she ends up whispering, “that took you. You were scared he was going to hurt me, right?”

Kakyoin blinks before a surge of protectiveness runs through him, cold, but it makes his muscles burn hot in a way he hasn’t felt since the journey. “He- I would never let him.”

Ryoko shakes her head, face beginning to scrunch up. “I know. But I couldn’t- I couldn’t make sure he wouldn’t hurt you, either.”

Kakyoin bites back any sharp comments – it’s not an insult, stop, he hisses to himself – and instead says, “You don’t- you didn’t need to worry about that-”

“But he took you!” Ryoko spits out then, voice raising, tears beginning to fill her eyes. “He took you when you were trying to protect me and I didn’t- I didn’t-” She sniffles, burying her head into her arms while Kakyoin can only blink at the outburst. “I didn’t save you, like you saved me,” Ryoko whimpers from behind her hands. “Th-that’s why you’d b-be mad at me!”

Understanding dawns in Kakyoin’s mind. He sighs, bringing a hand up to gently pat Ryoko’s head. “Hey,” he murmurs, “Ryon-Ryon. Ryoko.”

She sniffles before looking up. Only a few tears have seemed to escape, most of them still collected on her lower lid, making her eyes shine.

“I’m not mad at you,” Kakyoin says. Ryoko sniffs.

“B-but you’ve been so- so upset lately,” she cries. “You’re s-so unhappy…mama and a-auntie talk about it a lot. Th-they’re worried…and I feel like it’s my fault!”

Ironically, rage floods his system at the revelation – Who are they, to worry so much about me? I’m an adult now dammit, I – but Kakyoin quickly shoves it aside, making room for the just as hot, but more agonizing burn of shame.

“I- Ryoko,” Kakyoin sputters, his insides twisting uncomfortably. “I- no, I’m not- I-”

Ryoko stares up at him, eyes wide, brows scrunched up close together and her mouth set into a tense, wide frown. Kakyoin swallows.

“I know I’ve been…mean, lately,” Kakyoin says quietly, “but I’m not- it’s not because of you. I just don’t like being in the hospital, is all.”

Ryoko sniffs. “But- but you wouldn’t be in the hospital if I had just s-”

“Ryoko,” Kakyoin interrupts and she shuts her mouth. Kakyoin swallows, moving his arms cautiously, making sure his spine doesn’t shift with their movement. He takes her hands – so much smaller than his own, he notes with a flash of ferocity – How dare DIO try to hurt her – and squeezes them. “I’m here because of my choices. I chose this. Okay? Not you. I did this. No one controlled me,” He says, tone perhaps a little too bitter as memories of the fleshbud zip through his mind. Ryoko stares up intently, trembling slightly. “I’m just- I didn’t expect the consequences of my choices to be this…severe,” He admits, “but that’s all. I wouldn’t…take any of it back. I don’t regret it.” Something twists in his stomach.

Ryoko stares up at him for a minute, not responding, before she launches forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Nori,” she sobs, “I missed you. I was really scared, and I felt it was my fault, and-”

Kakyoin pats her back, leaning his head back as she cries. “It’s okay,” he attempts, the words feeling stiff and blocky in his mouth. “It’s okay.”

Shame wins the fight against rage in his stomach, and he closes his eyes tightly against it as it burns scorchmarks into his chest.

Right as Kakyoin thinks he can’t bear it anymore, a burst of cool blue sinks into his bloodstream from his IV again, and Kakyoin exhales with an open mouth, relaxing his tensing muscles. The pain medication…

It always stomped the fire of irritation out. Kakyoin presses his lips together tightly as Ryoko heaves the last of her tears into his shoulder.

He’d suffered enough consequences for his choices now, right?

Kakyoin lets Ryoko pull back as the pain medication swims through his body.

Surely he can start making new choices again, now.

Osaka, Japan

January 1, 1991

New years in a hospital is depressing. Kakyoin can feel irritation building. It was past midnight; his parents and Ryoko had stayed up with him (or, in Ryoko’s case, only tried to, before falling asleep in her little plastic chair) and when the clock struck twelve, his mother gave him a small, genuine smile, and said: “Welcome back, Noriaki.”

He did not feel like he was back anywhere. The hospital felt like limbo.

His father had mentioned getting Ryoko to a more comfortable place to sleep, so his parents had taken their leave for the evening. Ryoko had sleepily waved to him as they headed out. Kakyoin didn’t wave back. His fingers itch now; he wishes he did.

Now, he’s just waiting for either sleep or the phone; Avdol had promised, after finding out he and Polnareff would be off somewhere doing something, that he would call to make up for not being there in person. Kakyoin stares venomously at the phone. The seconds wear on.

Distantly, he can hear fireworks pop outside of his window. He stubbornly ignores it, staring only at the phone, eyelids growing heavy with the malice he’s tying to them via his glare.

He shouldn’t be mad. He isn’t even sure who he’s mad at in the first place, actually. Maybe he doesn’t get to be angry.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. I need to chill out, fuck, why can’t I just calm down these days?

Well, he supposes that wasn’t true. He glances at his IV, then back at the clock. Only a few more minutes until his next dose…

Hopefully, it would hit before Avdol and Polnareff finally called, and he wouldn’t be pissy toward them again.

The phone finally rings, and he jumps, only to hiss in a breath when his spine complains over the sudden movement. Stupid piece of fucking useless, pathetic shit-

Kakyoin wrenches out a hand and snatches up the phone to keep the infernal ringing from whining in his ears.

“Kakyoin!” Polnareff calls over the phone, voice slurring a bit which makes Kakyoin sneer, but the tone is jovial, and he can’t bring himself to truly begrudge him because of it. It’s New Years, idiot, a part of him hisses, of course he’d drink. Don’t be an asshole-

“I’m sick of this place,” is the first thing he spits. It’s not what he wanted to say.

Polnareff lets out a throaty noise of comprehension – or maybe confusion? Kakyoin hasn’t seen him drunk enough times to actually be able to discern what the hell that noise was – before there’s a rush of static and Avdol’s voice rings through. “Kakyoin! Happy new year! I’m sorry we’re late, Jea- Polnareff, um, he had a little more to drink than he should’ve,” he says breathlessly.

Kakyoin resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead glancing at the clock again. Two minutes until my next dose…

“Avdol,” Kakyoin says, and his voices comes out almost- almost desperate, mortifyingly, and Kakyoin squeezes the phone in his hands. His arms, thankfully, have gotten strength back. At least something isn’t broken-

“Kakyoin? Are you okay?” Avdol asks, voice heightening in concern, and Kakyoin closed his eyes and grits his teeth and glances at the clock. One minute.

“Happy New Year,” Kakyoin clumsily deflects. “Make any wishes?”

Avdol hums. Kakyoin can just hear him deciding if he should press him or not, and Kakyoin finds he’d be annoyed no matter what he chooses. Kakyoin grinds his teeth so hard his jaw hurts, his free hand curling into a fist. He glances at the clock. One minute.

“My only wish right now is getting Polnareff to bed,” Avdol lightly jokes, and Kakyoin can snort at that if nothing else. “...Are you okay, though?”

Kakyoin glances at the clock. Still one minute. Fuck.

“I’m fine,” Kakyoin spits. “I’m just-” I’m sick of it here. Everything always hurts. I’m always so mad. I wish I died-

“It is late there,” Avdol comments when Kakyoin trails off. Kakyoin huffs, rolling his eyes.

“It’s late for you, too. It’s like, what, 6 A.M.?” He isn’t exactly sure where Polnareff and Avdol are now, but that sounded right.

Avdol hums. “About, yeah…but you should get some sleep. It’s important you rest, to continue healing.”

I’ve been healing for almost a year already, Kakyoin thinks desperately, if I have to spend one more goddamn minute healing I’ll think it wouldn’t have been worth it at al-

His IV clicks and a blooming of refreshing cool folds out from his arm, and Kakyoin lets out a shaky breath, jerking his head back against his headboard, focusing on how the soothing chill of the pain medication washes out his irritation and anger and desperation, water cleaning out a wound.

“It’s not that,” Kakyoin finally manages to sigh. “I just…” he hesitates, but Avdol hums over the phone, and with the drowsiness the pain medication is starting to inflict, Kakyoin finds he has a loose tongue. “I just want to get out of here…”

Avdol hums again, more sympathetic. “...I can still give those tips, you know. There’s really no shame, so…please,”

Kakyoin is already grimacing, but he says nothing. His tongue feels too heavy, body too leadened. He could sleep like this, where he’s slumped against his pillows, phone pinned between his shoulder and head.

Avdol hesitates, giving Kakyoin room to respond. When he doesn’t, Avdol sighs, and Kakyoin knew if he were sober, he’d be a bitch about it. He focuses his gaze onto his IV pole.

“Kakyoin…I worry about you,” Avdol murmurs. Kakyoin blinks slowly as his brain pieces the words together.

A part of him is so mortified he can’t keep himself together enough to give a passing facade – if he’s such a mess still, how can he expect to get out of here soon? – but it’s muffled by the medication and Kakyoin’s sleepiness.

“Don’t be,” Kakyoin murmurs, “...I’m fine. I really am.”

Avdol sighs, takes a breath – but before he can say anything more, there’s a crash and a yelp, followed by loud barking and cursing.

Kakyoin raises a brow before snickering audibly.

“Jean?!” Avdol calls loud enough for the phone to pick up. Kakyoin can hear Polnareff groan something back, but he can’t make out the words past the phone’s static.

Avdol curses before turning back to the phone. “Kakyoin,” he says, “I’m sorry, but Jean- he- Poln-”

“Go help him,” Kakyoin chuckles, “sounds like he needs it.”

Avdol lets out a breath. “I’m sorry this call ended up…” he trails off. Kakyoin says nothing. In the end, he isn’t sure if he expected any different when it became apparent he was going to talk before having his dosage.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kakyoin says noncommittedly. His gaze has slowly relaxed from the IV, now staring blankly ahead of him past heavy lids.

Avdol sighs. “Well, I…” Kakyoin could imagine him shaking his head. “I’ll call again tomorrow,” Avdol promises. “Jean should be sober then.”

Kakyoin snickers. “And less of a nuisance,”

Avdol chuckles weakly. Iggy starts barking again in the background and Polnareff shrieks.

“Ah- but I really do have to go,” Avdol says, distracted, and Kakyoin nods slowly.

“Talk later,” Kakyoin promises.

“Talk later,” Avdol confirms before the line clicks and then goes dead.

Kakyoin stays in place in his dark hospital room, staring at nothing, as the phoneline continues droning. Now that the pain medication has taken full effect, Kakyoin forgets why he was even so angry. Maybe there was no real reason.

Kakyoin closes his eyes, only to flinch and jerk them open again when the phone starts beeping at him to be returned to its holder.

“Fuck,” Kakyoin complains, before a flicker of luminescent green flashes in the corner of his eye and the phone is suddenly gone, sloppily being put back onto the holder.

Kakyoin blinks a few more times before he turns his head. The lone tentacle of Hierophant’s flickers in and out like an old lightbulb, but it waves to Kakyoin tiredly. Kakyoin blinks back.

He hasn’t seen much of Hierophant since he woke up; it’s hard to summon him when he’s on his pain medication. But he’s here now, right after Kakyoin had another dosage – maybe he’s getting used to it and can now call Hierophant again while on it…

Kakyoin sighs and glances around, only to grimace at his feet. He tries to curl his toes. They only twitch in response.

“Goddammit,” Kakyoin whispers, his voice alarmingly wet, which comes as a surprise to his fuzzy head. He didn’t feel like he was on the verge of tears… “Goddammit. Work, work, work-”

Hierophant’s tentacle enters his field of vision then, and Kakyoin stares, confused, as the tentacle breaks up into smaller, finer ones, before slipping under his blanket. Nothing happens for a moment, and Kakyoin wonders what exactly his stand is doing, if maybe the pain medication is getting to him, too, when his toes curl.

Kakyoin gasps wetly, staring down. I didn’t- but I didn’t try that time- how-

Hierophant.

Kakyoin stares. His toes curl again, and Kakyoin can just faintly feel sensation in his fingers as it happens, like he was using his hands to move his feet. It is Hierophant.

Kakyoin blinks rapidly, but he still feels a trail of heat as a tear leaks out of his eye. “H-Hierophant,” He rasps.

Hierophant’s humanoid form appears then, his yellow, headlight-like eyes gazing at Kakyoin in concern, his arm raveling back into shape.

“Hierophant,” Kakyoin reaches for his stand like he’s a child all over again, hand resting against its face, voice wet, his throat hurting from the lump he has to speak past. He feels pathetic, but he can’t even pay mind to that thought right now because, for the first time in a year, he feels hope.

“Hierophant,” Kakyoin repeats one more time. His stand gently pats the hand cradling his face. “Help me. With…” he blinks drowsily, his eyelids growing heavier by the minute. Hierophant’s glow flickers, but his body stays solid. Kakyoin’s heart pounds. Good, good, good, good, he can handle being summoned even while I’m high off my ass-

“Help me,” Kakyoin rasps, “walk again.”

Hierophant stares evenly down at his user and nods. Kakyoin lets out a sob and clings to his stand like a lifeline. Hierophant doesn’t bend down, but Kakyoin doesn’t need him to. Just the fact he’s there…

Kakyoin slips unconscious, but his stand stays steady and solid the whole time, and if he wasn’t so tired, the pounding of his heart would keep him wide awake.

Osaka, Japan

January 16, 1991

It takes a couple of physical therapy appointments, and Kakyoin’s tailbone hurts with the amount of times he’d had Hierophant wrap around him wrong which led to an unbalanced act that collapsed, but the sudden surge of progress he’s seemingly made got him exactly what he was hoping for: a discharge.

After two years, only one of which he was conscious for, he’s finally leaving. He won’t be stuck under constant surveillance. He’s gonna be home. I haven’t been home since I was 16.

Something in his chest lurches, his heart aching, and Kakyoin takes a deep breath, but he can’t bite back his wide, smug smile as he rolls himself out the doors, insistent to his parents that he can handle his own wheelchair.

Finally, finally, finally, he can catch up.

“Noriaki, wait!” his mother calls, and Kakyoin halfheartedly turns his head. “Don’t forget we need to pick up your prescription!”

Oh, right.

Kakyoin nods, readjusting his wheelchair to smoothly turn around and rejoin his parents from where he had sped away from them. Learning how to control his wheelchair wasn’t exactly as easy as he’d hoped it’d be, but he’d been stuck with it for a year now, so he knew enough.

“Sorry,” Kakyoin says breezily, but his mother just smiles at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners.