Chapter Text
The first time Josuke heard the name Joseph Joestar, he was six years old when Hinata, the nosiest girl in his class, insisted that the sixty-nine-year-old billionaire was the cutest being in the whole world.
Quite the peculiar take, but who didn’t have weird crushes in the first grade?
(In actuality, Hinata had been referring to her dog (named after Joseph Joestar by her mother), but it’s not like she ever cared to clear up the misunderstanding.)
The point is, Joseph was a name Josuke only briefly overheard in the background of some random conversation once, nothing particularly memorable, merely a passing sound lost to children shrieks and laughter.
The exclamations of disgust following Hinata’s confession, however, made Josuke think of Joseph Joestar as some sort of cringy celebrity, one he did not care to learn more about.
Hence, Joseph remained a simple name in Josuke’s memory. Nothing more, nothing less.
He didn’t get to put a face to the name until he turned eleven, right after Tomoko finally revealed to him the identity of his missing father.
In hindsight, it was a truth that had to come up eventually; Josuke just didn’t think his mom would reveal it to him so willingly.
Not when his father's impalpable presence kept such a vicious hold over his entire family, an absence that lingered during every moment.
Broaching the topic alone never failed to bring Ryohei’s cheery mood down, his jaw tightening in frustration.
Asking about his father would paint wistful smiles on Tomoko’s face, rueful sighs escaping her for the rest of the day.
Gloom and doom, that was the effect his father had on the Higashikatas. It wasn’t a topic his family liked to discuss, so Josuke refrained from asking.
That was why Josuke hadn’t expected it when Tomoko summoned him to the living room, her eyes set and determined, nails digging into the meat of her palms.
At first, he thought she had found his hidden stash of soda cans in the back of his closet. His mother had a bad habit of drinking and gobbling up anything sweet in the fridge before he had a chance to have any, so Josuke took to hoarding his own private stash of snacks. But if that really were the case, Tomoko would have already been yelling at the top of her lungs, hands positioned angrily at her waist.
Only Tomoko wasn’t yelling; she simply asked him to sit down in an authoritative tone, something she never did unless it was something serious. Then she told him, calm and measured despite her fear, the reason why his father wasn’t in the picture.
Up until that point, Josuke thought he had been prepared to confront the truth, but once the words left Tomoko’s mouth, his mind was sent reeling all the same.
The thing is, Josuke knew he was different; it was hard not to notice with Crazy Diamond by his side. He also knew he didn't fit in because of his father’s blood in his veins. Because his eyes were a little too foreign. Because he wasn't fully Japanese.
The kids at school loved to bully him for it; hāfu, a label he'd grown accustomed to over the years. It was why he had no friends, no one other than Crazy Diamond.
Their rejection stung like acid back when he was younger, but as his grandpa liked to say, the Higashikatas were unbreakable, tough as diamonds; it was in his blood to endure. So Josuke did, solitude was preferable to keeping such deplorable company in any case, but it was the slurs directed towards his mother that he couldn’t stand.
Who were they to call Tomoko a floozie, a slut, a homewrecking bitch?
They knew nothing about the kind woman they slandered, about her heart of gold and loving nature. She didn’t deserve their hatred, their disdain, and every time Josuke happened to overhear those poisoned words, it made his blood boil, ugly resentment bottling up in his heart.
Josuke had expected to "find out" his father was a foreigner, one who simply didn’t want the responsibility that came with being a father; a man who left to run away from it all.
He hadn’t expected his mom’s words to confirm every slur and degrading remark his classmates spat out about his family.
It was almost too much to process, disappointment flooding his chest, but at the same time, Josuke couldn’t bring himself to hate Tomoko. Not when his mother’s only sin was to fall in love with the wrong person.
She didn’t give him all the details, of course, only that she met the love of her life when she was a young girl in college, a man who understood her in ways no one else could and swept her off her feet. Being young and naive, Tomoko stupidly caught feelings, and by the end of their short affair, she ended up pregnant with a married man’s child.
It should have made Josuke feel disgusted, and a small part of him did (feel disgusting, not disgusted), but Tomoko’s words, the shine of adoration in her eyes, made Josuke think he could see himself repeating the same mistakes in some alternate universe; one where he didn't know the type of pain those entanglements caused.
It was the way she spoke about Joseph, so fondly, so grateful, that made Josuke think that perhaps having experienced a love so beautiful was enough, even if his father didn't stay; at least the happiness he brought Tomoko endured.
The yearning in her eyes, however, he couldn't forgive, not really. Longing for a married man after years of absence wasn't fair to her; leaving a lovestruck woman behind high and dry was wrong of his father; betraying his wife for some quick pleasure was even worse.
Tomoko's love for Joseph Joestar was pure, but it was wrong; it was the reason all of Morioh ostracized the Higashikatas (or at least that is what he was told to believe).
All things considered, that should have been the end of their conversation. A mind-shattering revelation treated like a casual remark, mother and son moving on, only Josuke couldn't pretend those four syllables were background noise anymore. What Tomoko told him about his father was only fragments of what had occurred; it was more than Josuke ever thought he would learn, and yet…he still wanted to know more.
Joseph Joestar.
What kind of man was he? Curiosity consumed him in a way that bordered on obsession.
To want to learn more about an unfaithful man was a stupid wish, but Josuke couldn’t shake the thought away. He needed to know who that missing piece in his life was, where he came from, if they were alike, if his smile was as kind as his mother described.
Being the impulsive child that he was, Josuke quickly gathered up three months' worth of allowance from his piggy bank, the money he had been saving up to buy Prince's new album, and went to the local internet cafe in hopes of finding information on the man named Joseph Joestar.
It should have been harder than it was.
Immediately after clicking on the search bar, thousands of pictures popped up, and Josuke came face to face with images of a smiling man, well-built, eyes a little too similar to his own, plastered all over the screen.
The wild hair in some of the pictures reminded Josuke of his own untamable tresses, the ones he found annoying because they made it almost impossible to style his hair in the mornings. It felt a lot like looking through distorted mirror, causing Josuke to wonder if he would grow up to be just as tall someday, and that made his heart ache.
But it wasn’t Joseph who made Josuke log out of his computer, exiting the internet cafe as fast as he could, vowing to never make the same mistake again.
It was the face of Joseph’s wife, ever-present, standing proudly beside his father in all of the pictures, holding his arm in a tender grasp that screamed of years of companionship, and their daughter—His sister, never missing in any of the photos, surrounded by Joseph’s strong arms, her piercing green eyes shining with glee, just like their father’s.
They looked so happy, uncontainable joy bursting out of the screen.
So much Josuke could feel it, and it made him sick to his stomach. Forty-three years of marriage down the drain, and a happy family destroyed all because of him.
He was a bastard son.
But it wasn’t just the Joestars.
Josuke's heart plummeted at the sudden realization that he had been the source of his family’s misfortune all along. He was the reason Ryohei never received a promotion; his existence alone was why Tomoko was forced to live her life as a single mother, forever ostracized by the rest of the community. It was him.
Joseph's name may have been enough to sour the Higashikata's moods, but Josuke's existence was the true curse.
He ran until his legs couldn't take it anymore, tears blurring his vision as he curled into himself with shuddering breaths in the sanctity of his room. That night, Josuke's sadness overtook him completely, hand placed over his mouth in an attempt to muffle his cries as the tears continued to fall endlessly, leaving his pillowcase drenched with only Crazy Diamond's hands to rub comforting circles across Josuke's back.
His grandpa realized right away the next day, taking note of the boy's red-rimmed eyes and the air of despondency surrounding him despite Josuke's best attempt to greet everyone cheerfully in the morning.
Ryohei didn't ask, didn't even speak, simply pulled Josuke into a tender embrace, callous fingers ruffling his hair in a warm gesture that had him bursting into tears again. And he stayed firm, hugging Josuke even tighter, unfazed by the sobs wracking through his grandson's body, before carefully lifting the boy's face.
“You know I love you, right?" he uttered, affectionate and earnest as he pressed a warm kiss to his grandson's temple. "So much. You are the light in our lives, Josuke. It doesn't matter to me how you were conceived or what your parents did; you are my grandson, the apple of my eye, and you will always be."
Ryohei's own eyes glistened with unshed tears as he took in his grandson's blotched face, sticky and wet.
"So hush now, alright? We've never once regretted your birth or any other nonsensical stuff you might be thinking up in that head of yours. The people of Morioh may not see it, but you have a heart of gold, Josuke. Someone like you could never be a mistake, and if anyone ever makes you doubt yourself or my love for you again, they'll have to answer to me, you hear?!"
Josuke's tears didn't stop, Ryohei's arms didn't let go, but a small chuckle erupted from his throat as the anguish in his heart diminished at Ryohei's words. A sigh of relief made it past the boy's lips, who snuggled closer to the warmth and safety that Ryohei provided.
His grandpa always had a way of making big problems seem small; he always understood Josuke too well….
With a startled jolt, Josuke awoke from his pitful slumber, feelings of longing assaulting his senses so strongly they coated his tongue as crusty trails of salt adorned his cheeks, a permanent fixture these days.
Today marked three days since the unfortunate accident.
The day it was decided that Tomoko's and Ryohei's funeral would take place.
Josuke's black suit hung in his closet, ready to wear, and a roll of bandages lay beside it, meant to cover up the darkened bruises across his face upon Jotaro's insistence.
He still struggled to see any merit in it, but it would be a lie to say the patches on his face didn't make it a little easier to view his reflection in the mirror.
Not that it mattered much.
The injuries he garnered on that fateful day had yet to heal, though Josuke certainly didn't make matters any better by pressing hard onto any fading bruises before they could fully go away. It stung, but it was an urge he couldn't quite suppress, panic filling his heart the moment his damaged skin started to lighten its purple hue. Thankfully, applying new bandages every morning prevented Jotaro from finding out about his sick habit. He wasn't quite sure why he did it, why he hid it; it was an autonomous response.
Crazy Diamond didn't seem to like it very much, always flinching away, eyes glazed and teary with remorse as Josuke tended to his wounds every morning, and yet it would continue to manifest itself religiously time and time again regardless. More than once, Crazy Diamond would try to extend its hand, placed tentatively a couple of centimeters away from Josuke's face, lip bitten with determination in what Josuke could only describe as an attempt to heal his wounds. But that was impossible, and Crazy Diamond's face would crumple with visible impotence.
Josuke could relate to the sentiment.
Everything for the funeral had been promptly prepared and handled by Jotaro, who seemed to take his role as Josuke's temporary guardian very seriously.
Over the course of the past few days, Josuke came to learn that his nephew was a reserved man. He didn't speak very much, though that could have also been due to the boy's somber mood, but something told Josuke that the man's reserved attitude wasn't a temporary state. He appreciated the quiet.
Before meeting him, Josuke had no idea he had a nephew, only briefly aware that he had a sister, but well, it was to be expected considering their difference in age. It was Jotaro's eyes that reminded Josuke of his sister the most, just as bright as the eyes he saw in those old pictures years ago. He didn't seem to share her warm smile, however, which was a shame; Josuke remembered it being truly beautiful.
Everything was arranged for the day Josuke had been awaiting so anxiously, and yet he couldn't feel more unready.
He supposed no one could ever feel ready for burying their loved ones.
Without wasting much more time, Josuke proceeded to get ready, ignoring the constant feeling of illness that weighed down his body as he did so. Before he knew it, he was already at the funeral site without ever realizing when it was that he had dissociated.
The moment the caskets were opened, however, it was like he regained consciousness, fear making itself present, digging deep into his soul as Josuke mustered up the courage to step closer, to face the result of his inaction.
It was almost too much to bear, his surroundings fading into white as his tired eyes lay witness to the sole people who ever showed him love and care, now pale and cold.
Seeing their serene expressions as they lay in their respective caskets felt like clawing open a wound that wasn’t fully healed, and for the first time since Crazy Diamond came into his life, its fixing abilities felt truly evil. Deceitful.
Tomoko and Ryohei looked so peaceful in their eternal rest; their faces not reflecting any of the sheer brutality they went through, and how was that fair? They didn’t get to experience peace in their last moments, but for whatever reason, Josuke’s last memory of them will be exactly that, peaceful and serene.
Josuke had desecrated their memory by trying to fix his mistakes, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to modify their faces any further, spill their cold blood once more, restore the hurt.
It made him a coward. It made him a hypocrite.
The stinging sensation of tears pooling in his eyes only deepened his frustration. What purpose did tears serve now? It wouldn’t bring Tomoko or Ryohei back; he already passed up his chance.
To any onlookers, Josuke looked the picture of a grieving teenage boy, his tears stemming from a place of sorrow, not the burning anger tearing him up from the inside. If Jotaro noticed the difference, he didn't comment at all.
Everyone let him stay like that for a while, matching hiccups in the background joining his own noises of sorrow as they laid two of the most beautiful people to rest. When suddenly, Josuke felt two arms surround him in a powerful hug from behind. The boy's first thought was Crazy Diamond, but the sheer warmth emanating from the body surrounding him felt too real and corporeal in a way that Crazy Diamond, despite its best efforts to comfort, never quite achieved.
The wet sensation of tears drenching his back paired with the sound of a woman's cries of agony muffled by his suit only confirmed his suspicions. He was being hugged by a stranger, and yet Josuke couldn't bring himself to tear her away as his own sobs renewed in vigour.
He never realized before that his back had been so cold.
"I'm so sorry, Josuke—you all deserved so much b-better," came a torn voice, teary and sincere as the woman behind him squeezed Josuke even tighter, as though trying to get his body to stop shivering from physical force alone.
At this, Josuke made to move the woman's arms away so as to take a proper look at her face, an action that the woman quickly acquiesced to without retort.
An older foreigner, tall and blond, Josuke would've claimed he didn't know her if it weren't for her eyes. Though bloodshot from having cried, the brightness, the shine of her green eyes didn't dim; even the small wrinkles surrounding them couldn't take away from their kind beauty. The blood in his veins burned in recognition.
Holly Joestar.
In truth, Josuke didn't know how to feel having renounced long ago to ever seeing her face again. But the warmth of Holly's soul, that which he had felt even through pictures back in the day, was so welcoming and motherly; it felt like a soothing balm to the tattered pieces of his broken heart. Josuke didn't even know her, but the natural kindness she exuded made him want to experience her embrace once more and scream out his pain within the safety of her arms.
"Oh brother," Holly sobbed as she took in Josuke's broken expression, seeing him process who she was in real time. It reminded her all too much of her father, whom she still held dear in her heart, and that made everything hurt all the more. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to be here for you, but I'm here now." She paused to take a step closer, tentatively extending her arms again, "If you'll let me." Holly finished, heart on her sleeve, trying hard not to think about what she would do if Josuke were to deny himself even the little bit of comfort she could offer. It was unbearable.
And Josuke could tell.
A wave of exhaustion hit him at once. He was exhausted. Tired of trying to put up a tough front, of trying desperately to pretend he was coping alright, of always hurting people unintentionally. Well, he wasn't alright.
So he accepted Holly's offer, tentatively accepting her warm embrace in return, body language projecting his doubt and expectation of imminent rejection, but Holly was having none of it, quickly pulling Josuke close, attempting to shield him from the pain of the world as they sobbed together. Cries that heightened even more so when Josuke felt the familiar weight of Jotaro's palm at the base of his neck in a reassuring gesture that reminded him of Ryohei's comforting caresses.
It wasn't the same. Nothing would ever be the same, but it was enough to make Josuke feel less alone for the first time in a while, the fear no longer consuming him.
And they stayed that way, wrapped up in each other until Josuke could no longer see the glistening shine of his family's caskets, covered up by the moist dirt.
And it was enough.