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It wasn’t that Kakyoin wanted to kill Jotaro, per se, but if he had to kill someone in the school, well, he would be lying to himself not to admit that hurting the boy that hid behind his hat and relied on his physical intimidation to drive everyone else away had some appeal to it. It irritated him, watching Jotaro shrug his way through situations where Kakyoin had to smile and charm and manipulate, never faltering for a moment. Life wasn’t fair, of course; Kakyoin wasn’t stupid, was in fact very aware of this. Still, though, it chafed that Jotaro could have it so easy just from the accident of his stature.
That might also have contributed to his desire to showboat. He didn’t need the painting or the puppet to control Hierophant Green, of course, and while he could - and did, not that anyone ever questioned him on it - blame that on the fleshbud and DIO’s tendency towards the dramatic, DIO wasn’t controlling him that tightly. DIO persuaded, and Kakyoin fell for it, and Kakyoin brought a puppet, collected his art supplies, sat in the bushes painting Jotaro for an hour before he even showed up. In the end, no one had even seen the painting or the red slash across Jotaro’s knee, but the puppet had bought him a precious few minutes of smirking and posturing, drinking in the expression of utter horror that had displaced Jotaro’s usual apathetic half-scowl, before Jotaro dragged Hierophant Green out of the nurse and proceeded to punch him into unconsciousness.
(‘Dragged’ was a kind way to put it. He’d bitten Hierophant Green out of the nurse’s mouth. Kakyoin had thought for a moment that it had been meant to shock him, to make him lose control at the thought of kissing a boy, and had been delighted that he would be impervious to this attack of Jotaro’s as well. Then he’d blinked back into the present, to Star Platinum dragging Hierophant Green out by the teeth, and thought, well, shit. It had distracted him, even if not by design, and Kakyoin had cursed Jotaro’s dumb luck yet again.)
And then he’d woken up to Jotaro pulling the fleshbud out of his brain, to Avdol bandaging him up, to Holly offering him a place to sleep and asking about his homework and his family and how he was liking the neighbourhood. He’d sat in the corner of his room for a while in the early morning, wondering how best to approach this new situation, who all these disparate people wanted him to be, but in the end it was easy: they wanted him to be someone who’d go to Egypt, to fight on Holly’s behalf and on the behalf of the Joestars.
(It would have been easy to walk away right then, as well; to bow and thank them and explain that he needed to get back to his family, that they were worrying, that his three-month absence must be driving them crazy, but. Well. His family wouldn’t care, Kakyoin told himself, and he was obligated to try to save Holly’s life in return for the gift of his own, and he resolutely ignored the part of him that kept pointing out, persistent and irritating as one of the thorns on Holly’s back, that he’d never cared before about obligations that didn’t suit his plans.)
The plane was simple, after that. Tower of Grey was delicate and deadly, just like him, and he couldn’t have escaped from the plane even if he’d wanted to. Hierophant Green slipped under seats and around armrests, giving form to the inevitable shape of events that Kakyoin saw stretched across the plane like a delicate web. Kakyoin taunted and manipulated, and Hierophant Green worked in perfect tandem with him just as they had so many times before, and it was only once the danger was over and they had safely landed that he realised that this time had been different. This time, other people had been watching, had seen his Stand and their synergy rather than just staring at him alone.
Mr. Joestar had asked if he was ill, he’d gone so pale. He quickly summoned up a joke about the terrible piloting of the plane, and Jotaro jumped on the opportunity to tease - or berate, Kakyoin wasn’t quite sure of the difference; didn’t even think that Jotaro was sure - his grandfather for his awful luck in the air. Somehow, it didn’t really surprise him that Jotaro’s tongue finally came loose after he’d been inconvenienced.
“You say this is so important, and yet you put us all in a situation where we’re trapped like fish in a barrel-” Jotaro continued, and Kakyoin was finally free to examine his own reactions.
Maybe a little too free. It had felt like a violation of privacy, the way that the others had seen the entirety of his actions rather than just the public half, the half that lived in Kakyoin’s visible body. He’d learnt to control his own movements, to memorise and rehearse the body language and facial expressions that people expected until it was almost like a second skin, but he’d never had to worry about what Hierophant Green revealed about him before now. What could this strange band of travelling companions see in the way his Stand held itself, the way it moved, the way it twined around anything and everything it encountered? All of their Stands took one shape and held it, even if Joseph was the only one without a humanoid Stand; what conclusions did they come to about his Stand that slipped back and forth between forms as it pleased? Did they think that it was just a natural consequence of having had his Stand so long, or did they try to read into it further?
It didn’t bear thinking about.
It was quite a relief when Polnareff joined them; finally, someone else was the object of curiosity, and Polnareff was both very happy to take the spotlight and full of bad ideas to keep everyone occupied. (At least he told people about his terrible plans before just rushing in and getting almost killed, unlike one Kujo Jotaro whom Kakyoin could mention.)
Unfortunately, they took to the sea soon after Polnareff joined them, and even his constant chatter couldn’t distract Kakyoin from the vast blue expanse on all sides of them. It’s almost worse than the plane; at least the only danger on the plane was inside the plane, as opposed to the potential of danger from any direction.
Then Jotaro got dragged into the water trying to rescue Anne, and Kakyoin, to his horror, heard himself scream “Jojo!” and reflexively reach out to him with Hierophant Green. Thankfully, Star Platinum chose that moment to drop Anne and Kakyoin could pretend that he had just seen that coming, had been ready to snatch Anne up out of danger. Just in case, he doesn’t look at the others for a while. It doesn’t matter: everyone’s looking at Jotaro and Dark Blue Moon, and then the explosions, and the lifeboats, and the ship, and the monkey successfully obliterate any attention that might instead have focused on Kakyoin and his Stand.
“We can room together, since we’re students.” Kakyoin told himself that he just hadn’t wanted to be stuck with Polnareff, who probably snored and/or had sex dreams. Being able to unabashedly ogle Jotaro was just a bonus. Quite a substantial bonus, admittedly; Jotaro wasn’t unattractive, and he was also clearly uncomfortable with Kakyoin’s attention. If he had to guess, Jotaro wasn’t sure how to categorise him, how to square the sort of attention that he usually got from giggling schoolgirls with Kakyoin’s sharp face and willingness to fight.
“What, never checked out another man, Jojo?” Kakyoin grinned. “You’re missing out. Consider our dear Mr. Joestar, for example…”
Jotaro blushed and hunched his shoulders. “Don’t say that about the Old Man. He’s my grandfather.”
“Yeah, it’s a shame you don’t have the family resemblance. I’m sure he can still sleep with whoever he likes. Maybe even on this very trip! How does that feel, to know that your grandfather’s getting laid more than you?”
“You’re still looking at me.”
“I’m not so lucky as a particular fortune teller we know. Do you think he writes his own fortunes?”
Jotaro threw himself down onto the bed and pulled his hat over his eyes. “I bet he doesn’t talk as much as you.”
“Oh, so that’s what you’re into? The strong, silent type? Isn’t that just narcissism?”
“Shut up.”
Kakyoin mimed zipping his mouth closed and lifting invisible weights.
Apparently the Devil came and went with only Polnareff dealing with him. (Kakyoin made sure to needle him with as many jokes about accompanying Polnareff being Hell indeed as possible, until Polnareff was full of bluster and bombast, Avdol sighed and even Mr. Joestar began to look a little tired of the topic. Jotaro barely reacted at all, except to glare at Kakyoin and complain that he had a headache.
“Oh, really,” said Kakyoin. “That must be quite frustrating for you. Since you haven’t spent three months with a parasite stuck inside your brain, I imagine you don’t often deal with that sort of pain.”
Jotaro glowered back. Kakyoin smiled sweetly and goaded Polnareff into a competition for whose fleshbud experience was more painful, complete with criticism of Star Platinum’s bedside manner.)
Still, after the Devil came Yellow Temperance, and with Yellow Temperance came the opportunity to see just how ready everyone was to believe that he’d been a traitor all along. Kakyoin told himself that that was natural, that of course people would suspect the defector, that of course Polnareff’s easy banter and transparent feelings made him easier to trust as opposed to Kakyoin’s careful reserve.
It had still stung, a little. He couldn’t help but wonder whether his charms were failing because they could all see Hierophant Green, rather than it being just mere correlation. Maybe his Stand just wasn’t used to concealing its true nature and playing at likeability and trustworthiness. Maybe the flipside of his excitement that there were others like him in the world was that he was uniquely vulnerable to those others - and not just in the way that they were all vulnerable to other Stand users. Maybe it really was a choice between having people like and trust him and having people know him for who he was.
He’d coaxed the whole story out of Anne, bribing her with sweets and more coconut milk. Anne’s facility for explaining the grossness of a situation was unparalleled, although that wasn’t entirely positive; he could still feel the phantom texture of rhinoceros beetles in his mouth hours later on the train. Still, he’d learnt what he needed to: he asked for Jotaro’s cherry and swirled it around his mouth, staring at Jotaro with a fixed grin on his face. If Jotaro really thought he was that sadistic, that impulsive, that stupid, why not have some fun with that?
Jotaro just stared through him, as always. What had he expected? (Why did he care?)
Kakyoin had been keeping track of the Stands by their tarot card; they weren’t in any obvious order, but there were only twenty-two in any case. He’d wondered what the Lovers would look like once they encountered it; had wondered whether it might even be Dio’s stand. A stand that confused people, perhaps? Made them forget what had happened and be unable to plan for future attacks? That would fit with people’s anecdotes about love, and would be tricky to deal with; he made a note to start planning strategies for such an eventuality.
(He wondered, too, in more idle moments, whether it would just induce love - or lust, maybe? That had a clearer chemical signature, didn’t it? - and if so, between whom. Avdol and Joseph might as well already love each other, from the depth of their friendship, so that left - who? Jotaro and Polnareff? Surely that could never happen. But then again, they both clearly held the other in reasonable esteem, whereas he was but a slippery turncoat, kept around for as long as he was useful. No one could fall in love with that.
Where would that leave him, then? Perhaps falling in love with the Stand user themself; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done that, after all, and he could survive that again. It would destroy any of the trust that he’d managed to build up with the others, but who needed that? All he needed to do was to get to Cairo and defeat DIO; after that, he could - well, he couldn’t go back to his family, nor back to his school, but none of that mattered; he’d get out of the way and stop imposing on his companions and the rest could follow, or not. His future wasn’t the point here, had never been the point; they were fighting for Holly’s future, for Mr. Joestar and Jotaro’s grief-free future, for Avdol’s friend and Polnareff’s revenge. Those were the objectives that mattered here.)
In the end, it was much simpler. No hard choices there, just Kakyoin and Polnareff fighting a battle in miniature inside Joseph’s brain and trapping the Stand when it tried to escape. It was the perfect blend of concentration and out-of-the-box thinking; Kakyoin couldn’t spare even a single thought for fear or any other emotion until Steely Dan was safely dead. Until the danger was past and he was wrapped up in the relief of victory and the exhilaration of Hierophant Green working in perfect tandem to defeat the pernicious Stand. He grinned at Jotaro, momentarily too giddy to remember why he shouldn’t, why he should keep his guard up, and Jotaro almost, almost grinned back.
It wasn’t long after that that Death 13 came. Avdol was far away, recuperating with his father, but if he’d been here, he would have tried to cheer them all up with the usual fortune teller’s spiel about how Death doesn’t necessarily mean that one of them would die, how it could mean change or remaking or, or, or…
Kakyoin didn’t believe it. None of the previous Stands had been kind interpretations of the major arcana, and he saw no reason why that would start now. No; Death was coming, and someone would have to die, and realistically, that someone would have to be him. Avdol had been spared by a hair, and he wasn’t going to expose anyone else to this kind of danger, even Polnareff, while he was alive and ready and waiting.
This was all well and fine until they met the baby. Until the dreams. Until Kakyoin saw just how little progress he’d made over these few weeks; how easily they distrusted him. When he showed them his scars and they saw, not a message, not a proof of Kakyoin’s dedication and quick thinking, but a sign of mental instability, he saw the future laid out in front of him, unravelling in all its horror.
The problem wasn’t that he’d have to die; he’d been resigned to that since before he’d even met Jotaro. The problem was that this Stand wouldn’t just let him die quickly to save the others. No; this would stretch over days and weeks, forcing him to watch their estimation of him drop until either he died or they did, and he could only hope that the former would come first. Hell, they were talking about sending him away, declaring him unfit to go on; he might be the only survivor of this Stand, and wouldn’t that be ironic?
He couldn’t fight DIO alone. He knew that; he’d already met DIO and fallen under his spell once. He couldn’t fight DIO alone, so he’d just have to keep trying to convince the others of the baby’s Stand until he could destroy it himself.
(He made note of the place where they’d left the baby. He’d come back later, after they’d defeated DIO, after the baby had had a chance to grow up a little. That was a terrifying Stand; better to make sure that it would never be used against them again. For now, though, they’d have to keep going.)
The fight with N’Doul was just embarrassing. Sure, someone had to be the first person to get injured there, but did it have to be such an incapacitating one? And to add insult to injury, not only could he not help in that fight, but he had to stay in hospital for another week or so, leaving the others to deal with the continuing onslaught of Stand users.
They came to visit him in the hospital. He could hear Polnareff first, of course, rushing up and down the halls until he found Kakyoin and yelling for the rest of the group to hurry up. Mr Joestar shook his hand, assuring him that he’d been fine and back to fighting with the rest of them in no time. Polnareff made no fewer than seven eye-related puns and sounded like he was crying through the last three, though when Kakyoin called him on it, he denied it absolutely. Avdol rearranged his pillows and asked after his comfort, kinder than Kakyoin’s parents had ever been; if Kakyoin was trying desperately not to cry under the bandages, well, no one else would ever know.
Jotaro didn’t leave with the others. Kakyoin listened to them walking down the long hallways, listened to Jotaro’s breathing, and resigned himself to a round of Stoic Silence.
“What is it, Jojo? Need a break from Polnareff? No one could blame you.”
He heard Jotaro sigh and pull a chair across to his bed.
“Don’t call me that.”
“It’s a bit late for formalities now, Jojo, isn’t it? Can’t you call a friend a nickname when they’ve saved your life?”
“That’s why. You could.” Jotaro took a deep breath, obviously trying to control some sort of emotion. Kakyoin had just enough time to worry whether he’d finally provoked him to anger, in this, his most defenseless state. Hierophant Green started to take shape under the blanket.
“You could. Have died. And you think it’s all a joke.”
Not angry with him, then, or at least not in that way.
“What else should I do, Jojo? I’m not supposed to cry, the doctors tell me, so what would you have me do? Meditate on all the ways things could go wrong?” Kakyoin had intended for that to be light and mocking, but his voice slipped and it came out on the wrong side of sincerity. Well. Too late now.
He could hear Jotaro’s anger in the way he sat up straight, rustling his coat; the way he pulled down his hat as far as it could go; the way his knuckles clicked as he clenched and unclenched his hands. Did he know his parents that well? Surely he couldn’t be more accustomed to this boy he’d known all of three weeks than to people he’d known all his life.
Oh. Jotaro still wasn’t talking. Hierophant Green snaked its way out from under the covers to wrap itself around his wrist.
“...What’s this.” Jotaro shook his hand, presumably trying to dislodge the Stand.
Feeling Hierophant Green move while being unable to see anything got Kakyoin closer to motion-sickness than even the multiple plane crashes. “It’s my Stand, you idiot. What else would it be? And please stop that; it feels terrible.”
“Why is it on me.”
Kakyoin was suddenly, abruptly far too tired of all Jotaro’s silences, all the emotions he telegraphed so loudly without ever bothering to put any of them to words. “Well, pardon me for thinking that just maybe someone who’s as obviously upset as you would like to be comforted. I’m terribly sorry that I’m blind and stuck in this bed and you have to make do with my ugly melon Stand. Please forgive me for trying to do what I can with your complete inability to use your fucking words and actually tell me what you want or what you’re even angry about! I apologise for defiling you with my terrible spirit!” Hierophant Green snapped back into him so quickly that it almost hurt.
“No. I didn’t mean that.”
“Then what the hell did you mean?”
Kakyoin heard Jotaro sigh, get up and walk over to his bed. He picked up one of Kakyoin’s hands, turning it over and over and messing with his fingers almost absentmindedly.
“I’m. I’m not good at this.”
“You can say that again,” Kakyoin muttered, knowing that he wouldn’t have to withstand the inevitable Jotaro Stare.
A pause ensued, presumably for purposes of glaring.
“I’m not good at this,” Jotaro said again. “But. I didn’t. Don’t. Want to lose you. I care about you.”
“Wow, such a concession from Kujo Jotaro here. Cares about people who are trying to save his mother from dying. Truly, that would ruin your reputation if anyone ever heard about it.”
Jotaro opened his mouth. Snapped it shut again. Sighed and leant down and slipped his hand between Kakyoin’s shoulderblades, levering him just upright enough to - kiss him. Okay. That definitely added some context to the situation. It still wasn’t words, but it would do.
Kakyoin bit his bottom lip, on the assumption that Jotaro probably didn’t kiss people much. It worked; he could feel the heat of Jotaro’s blush, but Jotaro didn’t pull away, even if he was licking the inside of Kakyoin’s mouth like he’d read a manual on how to kiss. Kakyoin stifled a giggle, and decided that if they were going for ‘weird’, he had the trump card: he flicked tiny strands of Hierophant Green inside Jotaro’s mouth and set them exploring.
“What the fuck,” said Jotaro, pulling away, but he was laughing a little, so that was alright. Kakyoin let Hierophant Green stretch out just a little longer than was truly necessary before reeling it back in.
“I feel like I should be asking you that - no, no, Jojo, I’m not offended, I’m just surprised.”
“I - we have to go. You know. But I’ll - we’ll talk about it afterwards. If you want to.”
Kakyoin smiled. “To afterwards, then. Here, come, let me give you a kiss for good luck.”
Jotaro bent over so that Kakyoin could kiss him on the forehead (and only refrain from biting his nose by thinking how many times it must have been broken recently). “To afterwards.”
He stood up and paused a moment before leaving. “Kakyoin. Get better quickly.”
“I’ll do my best,” Kakyoin replied, but Jotaro had already gone.
Kakyoin had always expected to end up as a hungry ghost. He was never going to have children, and it wasn’t like he had siblings or any extended family to care for his grave. It was fine; he’d realised it as a young child, and he’d had long enough to get used to it. It wasn’t even as if dying this young was surprising; honestly, he hadn’t expected to reach twenty.
No; the surprise was where he ended up.
When time started again after DIO had punched clean through him, he’d had a moment of clarity: ah, it’s the wrongful death, then. At least being stuck here until DIO was killed would give him a clear goal. But no: not even five minutes after that, DIO was dead and Mr. Joestar was taking his first new vampire-infused breaths.
Kakyoin flickered in and out of existence, watching Speedwagon transport his body back to Japan, watching a still-weak Holly call every Kakyoin in the phone book searching for his parents (they weren’t listed; called it an invasion of privacy), watching Holly hurry around to organise a funeral and Jotaro trail behind her, at a more obvious loose end than he’d ever seen.
The funeral itself was nothing special, just a small and solemn affair like any other Kakyoin had been to. Jotaro and Holly hung back when everyone else had left; Holly pretended to be very interested in a tree to give Jotaro his privacy.
“I still don’t know what to say to you,” Jotaro said, “But. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry I’m such an asshole. I’ll… I’ll try to do better. I’m sorry, Holly would know what to say, I just-” He broke off, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “I killed DIO for you. For my grandfather, too, and for my mother, but they’re still alive. You aren’t. That’s all I could do. I’m sorry.”
Jotaro crossed to Holly, tapping her on the shoulder. She hugged him and then walked over to Kakyoin’s - his grave? Whose grave was this, anyway? He supposed it didn’t matter.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t find your family,” Holly said, looking significantly less awkward than Jotaro. How often did she tend graves, to be so used to this? How many of her family had died? “I tried, but I just - they don’t exist anywhere that I can find. If I ever find them, I’ll tell them. But you don’t have to worry; I’ll make sure your grave is tended and that you have all you need. I’m sorry there’s no one you’ve known for longer to do it, but it’s a small return for you saving my life. I think Jotaro will help, too. He loves you; did he ever tell you that? He didn’t tell me, but he cried on my shoulder and told me all about you. I thought you should know.” She twisted her hands together. “I have to go. I need to take care of Jotaro and Papa and find out what that French guy even eats. I just wanted you to know that you don’t have to worry about going hungry. It’s okay.”
Holly looked around for Jotaro, signalled that they should leave, and casually slipped her hand into his as they left the graveyard. Kakyoin watched until they were just specks in the distance.
So. He did have a family, after all, even if it wasn’t by blood. Now it was his turn to watch over people, to do what he could to keep them safe. (Usually that felt meaningless; it wasn’t like modern life was that dangerous. For Jotaro, though, maybe it would be needed.)