Chapter Text
Saturday mornings in Morioh were dedicated to observing the coastline and documenting how it changes. Every Saturday at 5:00am – never 5:01am, never 4:59am – Rohan would load up his car with his briefcase that held his sketchbook and pens, place his coffee thermos in the cup holder, and drive down to the beach. He has never been disturbed at this hour. The mangaka has his usual spot at a table near the food stand on the pier that doesn’t open until long after he’s gone, giving him a perfect view of how the tides roll in. He is sure to wear a sweater on mornings like these, he decides on a cream colored one today. The cool breeze off of the water has chilled him to the bone enough. He has also had to adjust by bringing a cushion for the plastic seat so his legs don’t fall asleep as he works; said cushion lives in his backseat. He spends this time with the sun, the ever changing sky, and the waves. This is another place of solace for him, aside from his studio at home. Until one morning, there’s a man at his coast.
The moment Rohan pulls into the parking lot and sees another car, he nearly sees red.
“Calm down, it’s probably a lifeguard or something… just get out the car.” The man whispers to himself as his knuckles turn white from gripping the steering wheel. After a short debate with himself, he hauls himself and his supplies out of the car.
Quiet footsteps approach the small pier; the artist was on high alert. He had no idea what to expect from this intruder.
Was he going to be sitting on the beach?
Was he with someone?
Were they going to be loud?
Did they sit at his table?
However, all he spotted was a man clad in white slacks and a black turtleneck squatting at the edge of the water, hunched over and writing in a notebook. Rohan squints to make out better details but he was too far away. More importantly, he was not in Rohan’s seat. Thank God.
The mangaka releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he took his usual position and began to outline his scenery. However, he couldn’t not draw the man. He was in the way! Right in the middle of the shore. It would be easier to capture if he knew who this man was but apparently it was “strangers at the beach” day. The artist curses inwardly then buries himself into his work, much like he does in total isolation every other day of the week.
This isolation doesn’t bother Rohan but on the contrary, he says it helps him grow as an artist and as a person. Yes, his social cues weren’t the best but he could hold a decent conversation when the topic interested him. He could hold negotiations when it came to his work. But most importantly, he could read someone’s character before they even opened their mouth.
Rohan failed to read this man’s character. Thus, rage ensues.
With a loud exclamation, the mangaka throws his pen down and sits in a huff. This must have alerted the mysterious man on the beach because he stands suddenly and looks around. It takes him very little time to notice Rohan, stare intently for a few moments, then return to what he was doing before.
What was he doing?
Okay, breathe.
Let’s start with what he’s wearing. Outward appearances often hint at inner works.
Rohan begins to make a list.
• White slacks, rolled up past his ankles. Most likely to avoid getting wet.
• Was he wearing two belts? The patterns are unclear from this distance but the colors look like pink, yellow, and blue.
• Long sleeved black turtleneck. Form fitting.
• Form? Muscular… very muscular.
What can we gather from this? That it’s cold? These two belts were throwing him off...
What does he look like?
His hair is neat but wavy, indicative of mixed descent but it was probably from the saltwater air that swirled around them. A loose curl hung on his forehead. It was kind of cute. His hair is black, much like his thick eyebrows that were furrowed from the moment he got here till now. His eyes appear to be lighter in hue. His facial structure is strong yet elongated. His skin is tanned from what he can see, oh god, he’s rolling his sleeves up. Forearms galore. He’s wearing a gold watch on his left, beautiful wrist. He’s right handed. He’s gorgeous actually…
Rohan had to catch himself from nearly falling over the table, causing another loud sound from his direction. Again, the man stood up straight then looked directly at Rohan. Even from this distance, the mangaka could feel those eyes boring into his soul. This was not a good feeling. The scowl from the stranger sent Rohan into a blushed panic. All of a sudden, he felt like he was interrupting this stranger’s solace…
Wait a second.
No!
No!
This guy was interrupting his weekly routine! The artist then stares back with just as much intensity, his head tilting to the side in attempt to intimidate his opponent. That backfires quickly when the man decides to walk toward the pier.
Shit.
The closer he got, the taller and larger his frame became. He looked to be about 6 feet and 5 inches tall. God, Rohan wished he could write that down but he was frozen in place. Was this fear or excitement? Both? Probably both.
“Can I help you?” A deep, downright terrifying voice left the stranger. Rohan nearly screamed.
“M-Might I ask what you’re doing here?” The mangaka held his ground in verbal exchange but physically, he was trembling.
“Note taking.” An honest answer.
“I’ve never seen you here before. It’s quite early, isn’t it?”
“There are certain species you can only see at certain times of the day.” The stranger was getting defensive.
“Oh… well, I’m sure you could come back later and see something else.”
“I’ve seen everything else already.”
Damn, this dude wasn’t budging.
“I guess your work here is done then.” Rohan crosses his arms over his chest, his own scowl returning.
“It isn’t.” The man then turns to walk away.
“It better be soon!” Anger is present in the artist’s voice now. He thinks he hears a chuckle.
“Okay.” The man waves a hand then walks back to where he was before, assumes the same position… and doesn’t move. He isn’t even writing. He’s just looking at the water. Wait, is he sitting down now? He’s lounging back!
“Hurry it up, man!” Rohan screams above the crashing waves, seething with rage. He didn’t even notice the white coat, black shoes, and hat that were sitting behind this man. This situation threw him off so much. However, the man doesn’t budge. His eyes are closed now.
Oh, that’s it.
The mangaka gathers his supplies, marches down the steps that lead to the sand, and treks across the land until he’s hovering over the man. All of his rage almost disappears when he notices how beautiful this guy truly is, his eyelashes are so long, his lips are full and slightly parted, his skin glistened in the rising sunlight… But dammit, he was invading his space!
“Get up.” A weak attempt from the party with the higher ground.
“You’re still talking to me?”
“I said get up, you’re interrupting my work.”
“I could say the same about you.”
“You’re taking notes, I’m making a difference!”
“Who’s to say I’m not doing the same?” The man’s eyes were open now. Blue. Interesting.
“I…” Rohan was stumped by this. He did boldly assume this. He did make an ass out of himself. “Sorry.”
“For what?” The man sat up now, his large hands brushing sand off of his back. Were his nails manicured?
“I’m… I’m not used to anyone else being here.” Rohan kneels down next to the man, their height difference made clear by how he barely made eye contact in this position.
“Neither am I.” The man stares out into the ocean.
An awkward silence.
“So… are you new around here?” Rohan inquires while fidgeting with the handle of his briefcase.
“Just visiting.”
“Why would you choose a town like Morioh?”
“The biodiversity here is quite impressive considering its location. Also, I have family here.” The man was nervous, his teeth worked at the inside of his lip when he wasn’t speaking. His gaze remained fixed on the water.
“I’ve never looked at the… biodiversity here.”
The man chuckles. Rohan grins shyly.
“You don’t look at it, it’s everything around you. Observe is the better word.”
“Oh, I see. I was never good at science stuff.”
“I can tell.” Was this a dig? Probably but Rohan found himself intrigued by his intruder.
“You said you have family here?” Rohan properly sits down then pulls his knees to his chest.
“Yes but I have yet to meet them.”
“Exciting!” The man shoots the mangaka an uneasy look; Rohan simply smiles.
“That’s one way to put it.” Rohan opens his mouth to ask another question but- “Are you from around here?”
He doesn’t want to talk about himself.
“Me? Oh, I grew up here but I moved to the city when I was able to. But I’m back now to get in touch with myself a little bit… sounds like you’re sort of doing the same.” The man grunted.
The more the mangaka got to talk to this man and the more he observed him, he could only gather two things: This guy was reserved, meaning that he has a chilling past, and he was… very handsome. That was enough for Rohan to work with. His fingers twitch toward his briefcase but he keeps his hands planted on his shins.
Why? This dude is the perfect mystery!
Write this down while you can!
“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” The mangaka inquires.
What are you doing?!
The man shakes his head then glances down, more of his curls falling into his face. He doesn’t bother to move them. Rohan could tell that prying would get him nowhere so he lets it go.
You’re missing out on the perfect story by just talking to him.
“I can do enough talking for the both of us, don’t you worry.” And he does. He talks about what he does for a living, what he likes, what he dislikes, where he finds his clothes, how he does his hair in the morning, so on and so forth. Not once does he feel like he’s annoying the silent man in front of him. He also doesn’t feel pressured at all to act a certain way. It has been so long since he shared himself with someone else. He didn’t quite know why he was doing this but it felt… right. At a certain point, Rohan thinks he saw the man smile.
“You’re weird.” The man finally says after a rare lull.
“Thank you?” Rohan laughs and inches closer. The man turns his head to share a look with the artist.
“You remind me of… he’s not… he is important but you remind me of him. He was weird too.” The man struggles to find the right words but the mangaka more than understands.
“So it is a good thing.”
“Yes.”
“Hm. Well, if you want to be exposed to this weirdness more, maybe I could show you around Morioh.” A bold claim from someone who doesn’t normally spend time with others. This seemed like something to the two men shared.
“That would be nice.” The man’s voice is quiet, not nearly as threatening as it was before. The sun then breaks through the clouds and shines brightly on the two of them. Gold and white glisten in the rays, making the two of them glow. They both notice.
“I’m Rohan, by the way.” He extends his hand.
“Kujo, Jotaro.” His larger hand encases the artist’s.
“So you are Japanese.”
“And American.”
“I knew it.” Rohan flashes a toothy grin to contrast the other man’s confused frown.
Yes, this was the perfect story to share with his fans. He was sure that everyone would love to read about the mysterious beach man who looked like he could kill a bear with his own two hands. But Rohan decided that this was a story that he would like to keep to himself.
“Who exactly did you say you were going to meet here?”
“Technically speaking, he’s my uncle. Higashikata, Josuke.”
“He sounds annoying.”