Work Text:
Morioh truly was a beautiful town.
Josuke inhaled a deep breath of the cool, afternoon air. The sun’s rays gracefully warmed his prized pompadour, as he walked down the peaceful neighborhood street. A soft, July breeze weaved its way through the street corners. The air smelled of flowers and fresh grass.
Almost an entire year has passed since that infamous day. The day of July 16, 1999. The day Kira Yoshikage had battled Josuke and his friends, bringing an end to the 15 year conflict Morioh had been silently struggling with all those years.
Now, things felt lighter. It was like the burdensome weight of Kira Yoshikage’s existence had been lifted off of the invisible shoulders of Morioh, Japan. People were happier, the town felt friendlier—a previously unacknowledged tension had dissipated.
After a fierce struggle in the hospital, followed by a long, grueling recovery for several months, Josuke had gotten back on his feet, and continued to live his life as normal. Going out with friends, spending time with his mom, studying for school, bothering Rohan, playing video games—it was the life.
Speaking of which, that’s why he was outside walking now. He had spent all day yesterday playing a brand new video game with Koichi and Okuyasu. They sat in his living room for hours on end, eating junk food, gaming to their hearts’ content—acting like typical high school kids on a summer day.
Taking a scenic stroll along the neighborhoods of Morioh, Josuke whistled as he passed house after house. Birds chirped as they fluttered above his head. In a nearby front yard, Josuke saw two kids huddled around something together. They were chattering excitedly, and Josuke decided to listen as he walked by, on the opposite sidewalk. Despite the fair distance, the peaceful quietness of the neighborhood made it easy to decipher the kids’ conversation.
“—are you sure it’s okay to set one off?” one said. The kid had a red shirt that shined brightly in the sun.
His other friend, messing with something on the ground, had a bright white hat on. He turned to the other boy. “Of course! It’s the Fourth of July!”
“Fourth of July?” the red-shirt kid repeated, intrigued.
“You haven’t heard of it? It’s an American holiday. It’s meant to celebrate the day they beat up England or something.”
“Woah, that’s so cool!”
The hat kid scoffed at the exclamation, as if unimpressed. “That’s not even the coolest part! They have these enormous firework celebrations all night, my dad told me! He works near an American military base, and he said they even do it here, in Japan!” he explained, excitement barely contained.
“Is that where you got that?” The kid with the red shirt pointed at something Josuke couldn’t see at his current angle.
“Yep! It’s not as big as the ones my dad talked about, but he gave it to me as a special gift for today, since it’s the Fourth of July.”
“Your dad is so cool. I wish my dad was part American.” The red shirt kid groaned.
His friend laughed. “How about I let you set it off?”
“What? Really?!”
“Of course!”
Josuke smiled at the exchange, continuing his walk. He felt proud. He remembers the feeling of being a bright, naive child—not having a care in the world, never worrying, just enjoying life to the fullest. He almost missed those days.
These kids are safer than they would ever know, now that Kira was gone. Josuke was happy for them, knowing that there was no chance of the bastard serial killer abducting them or their friends to never be seen again. Instead, they lived peacefully here in Morioh, while Kira was hopefully burning in Hell, as punishment for his crimes.
Josuke closed his eyes in satisfaction at the thought. He kept walking forward, passing by, the kids’ excited words filtering through his ears as he moved along.
Suddenly, the kids got quiet.
Hmm? Why’d they stop—
Bang.
A bright, white flash quickly traveled across his vision as the sound of a small explosion invaded his ears, rumbling his chest.
He turned around, eyes wide, his legs beginning to shake.
He knew that sound. The sound of an explosion. A bomb. He knew because It haunted every one of his nightmares, ever since July 16th of last year.
The smell of gunpowder invaded Josuke’s nose. He heard the laugh of Kira in the back of his mind, taunting him.
Josuke felt short of breath—he couldn’t move. He was completely frozen, his thoughts racing.
Oh god, what was happening? What is this feeling? This fear?
His breath felt short as he instinctively took a step backward, away from the sound.
No longer did he hear the short, joyful noises of kids laughing and birds chirping. Instead, his eardrums were plagued with the unforgettable sounds of Shigechi’s screams, and Hayato’s whimpers.
Phantom pain flared in his left side’s thigh and torso. Losing control of his breathing, his vision grew blurry. He was alone in the middle of a neighborhood street, unable to move—unable to breathe. Every breath felt like it escaped him as soon as he drew it in. He chased the air with his lungs, but it always got away.
He felt helpless—like it was the hospital, all over again. Here he was, collapsed on the sidewalk, unable to move. He tried to call for help, but no words escaped his mouth.
More explosions passed by his ears. Were they real? He couldn’t tell. He was lost in his own mind, at the mercy of his panic attack.
Kira’s laugh echoed in his head again.
“You’re so weak, Josuke. Did you really think you could get rid of me? Morioh is my hometown. I’ll never leave, not even in death.”
————————————————————
A pencil fell from the air, clacking against Rohan’s desk. Another day’s work, done at last.
Rohan sighed as he stood up from his exotic chair. The room was flooded with natural light, the artist taking the liberty of opening the windows’ blinds earlier today.
He walked to the windows, observing the outdoors. The sun warmed his face through the glass, not a single cloud present in the vast sky. Birds danced in the air, and children laughed in the distance.
Perhaps I should go for a walk today, Rohan hummed to himself.
A gleam in the corner of his eye caught his attention, pulling him from the thought. His pupils followed the bright reflection until they fell upon a shiny, golden pin. The golden pin rested on a familiar school jacket, worn by a familiar pompadour-haired teenager.
Josuke.
Rohan groaned in the back of his mind.
He didn’t hate Josuke, no. But the boy easily irritated him. Very easily. Even if the sassy teenager did hold his own and assisted in the final battle against Kira, Rohan was still annoyed about the Cee-lo incident, but he did promise Koichi that he’d try harder not to hate Josuke.
Speaking of which, the teenager was walking down the sidewalk, towards Rohan’s house. His attention seemed to be held by the rowdy kids across the street.
The two kids had been goofing around all day, enjoying the outdoors. Rohan couldn’t help but notice them—their noise was nearly distracting while he was doing his work—but their joyful mood brightened him in a way, so he refused to put in earplugs.
Josuke seemed to fall victim to a similar effect, stopping in his tracks to observe the children’s antics. He had a soft smile on his face.
Rohan scoffed, watching as Josuke turned his head and continued walking forward. The teen seemed to have no clue how close he was to Rohan’s house, his mind likely wandering elsewhere. He walked step after step, oblivious—
Bang.
Muffled through the glass, an explosion noise was heard from across the street. A small firework.
Rohan had heard his neighbor talking about it earlier. Today was the Fourth of July, or Independence Day for America. The man had bought a loud firework for his son and the boy’s friend, as a gift. Being part-American, the father wanted to share part of his culture to his son. It wasn’t surprising.
What was slightly surprising, however, was Josuke’s reaction. The normally happy-go-lucky teenager had frozen in his tracks, eyes going wide. He began to tremble, slowly turning towards the noise.
Rohan felt his stomach sink. That face didn’t belong on Josuke.
The kids continued to chatter loudly about the thunderous pyrotechnic, excited, completely oblivious of the effect it was having on the purple-haired teen across the street.
Josuke looked ill now, visibly shaking on his feet. He stumbled back, uncharacteristically clumsy, and fell onto the sidewalk. Rohan could see the teen struggling to catch his breath, his chest heaving.
Josuke was on the verge of something. Something bad.
Not being able to sit back and watch anymore, Rohan tore himself away from the window, and out of his studio. His feet quickly descended down the stairs, not missing a beat.
Hastily opening his front-door, Rohan raced down his patio steps towards the sidewalk, finally encountering Josuke.
He looked awful. His face was pale, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Trembling, his eyes glazed over in a dull manner. His pupils were impossibly small, clearly blind to the real world in front of him.
Rohan bit his lip. “Josuke. Can you hear me?”
Josuke gave no direct reaction, continuing to shiver on the ground. Rohan kneeled down, getting closer, and tried again.
“Josuke.”
Nothing.
The boy was stuck in his own mind, living through what must have been an awful torrent of memories and nightmares.
Rohan would never admit the twinge of sympathy he felt deep in his chest. He needed to get Josuke out of here and calm him down.
The manga artist placed both his hands solidly on Josuke’s shoulders, looking him deep in the eye. The teen’s own eyes faintly glimmered with recognition at the forced eye contact.
“... Rohan?” Josuke whimpered. He sounded broken.
“Josuke. You’re having a panic attack,” Rohan started simply. He cursed himself, he wasn’t the comforting type the way Koichi was. But Koichi wasn’t here. Which made it his job to help Josuke through this, no matter how irritated he usually found himself with the teen.
“..I...I can’t —I can’t breath …” Josuke whispered shakily, trying his hardest not to hyperventilate.
Fuck.
Rohan bit his lip, thoughts racing on what to do. He didn’t want to touch Josuke, but he needed to get him inside. Swallowing his pride, he spoke carefully. “Josuke. I’m gonna help you inside. But I need you to breathe for me, okay? Try to stay calm.”
Josuke offered a slight nod, barely noticeable among his terrified trembles.
Rohan wasted little time helping the incapacitated teen up, slipping his arm around Josuke’s side. The high school student shakily got to his feet as he leaned against Rohan for support, walking with him back towards the house.
As Rohan passed through the front door, he could feel Josuke continue to struggle for breath through their bodies’ contact. His warm, solid side expanded and contracted against Rohan’s own side, trying desperately to suck in air. A shaky exhale forced its way out of Josuke’s nose.
“Josuke. I know it’s hard, and I know things feel scary, but you need to breathe. Copy my breathing, alright?” Rohan nearly begged.
Unaware of whether Josuke heard him or not, Rohan proceeded to breathe a long, deep inhale through his nose. He held it for a handful of tense seconds, before exhaling slowly through his mouth. He repeated the exercise.
In...
Hold...
...
Out.
...
In...
Hold...
...
Out.
Slowly, he felt Josuke’s breathing attempt to follow Rohan’s lead. They continued breathing together as Rohan led them both to the living room, guiding Josuke to the couch.
Josuke gulped. The snake coiled in his throat seemed to loosen, as he slowly forced himself to relax into the couch. “Rohan,” he acknowledged.
The manga artist let out a short hum as an affirmative response.
“I-I….y-you…..Kira—“
“—Kira’s dead, Josuke. He’s been dead for nearly a year. We don’t have to worry about him anymore,” Rohan stated clearly.
Josuke let out a frustrated sigh, his unsure eyes processing the words. His pupils shrunk in embarrassing realization, staring at Rohan, before his dry mouth to speak with a painful rasp. “...I’m sorry, Rohan —I didn’t mean to bother y—“
The boy suddenly felt an odd sensation flake across the skin of his face—the smell of paper filled his nose, followed by the quick noise of a pen. His cheek parted like a book. He couldn’t see it, but the command resonated within his core.
Stop talking.
Rohan sighed, Heaven’s Door phasing back into his body. Deep blue clashed with stark green as their eyes stared intensely at each other. “Listen closely, Josuke. You didn’t bother me . This was outside of your control.”
Rohan ignored the look on Josuke’s face, the teen clearly wanting to argue, yet unable to.
The manga artist continued. “You didn’t ask for this. What we went through last summer was horrible, and it’s bound to leave marks. Marks you can’t heal with Crazy Diamond—marks that can’t even be seen,” Rohan explained, tone serious.
“Don’t feel bad about having a panic attack. It’s normal—it’s expected. This doesn’t make you weak, you hear me? You’re not the only one. Koichi has them too. You aren’t alone, and you are not weak. So don’t go sulking about it for the next month, alright? That will bother me.”
Josuke’s gaze drifted solemnly to the floor, before nodding.
Giving another sigh, Rohan erased the command, granting permission for Josuke to speak again. He waited.
Josuke felt startled, gulping. “...Thanks, Rohan...for helping me,” he said quietly, rubbing at his side.
His scarred side, Rohan noted.
“Don’t mention it,” the manga artist spoke. The words weren’t insincere, but they weren’t necessarily warm, either.
The two were silent for a few moments.
“...I texted Koichi. He’s gonna meet up here and walk you home.”
Josuke laughed shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. The laugh wasn’t as joyful as usual, but it was...progress.
The kid really has gone through a lot, hasn’t he?
“You care about me enough to make sure I’m not sent home alone, huh?” Josuke interrupted his thought.
“I will say nothing.”
“Uh-huh.”
Another beat.
“Hey Rohan, do you have any dice? I wouldn’t mind playing some Cee-lo while we wait—“
“—Get out of my house. You can wait for Koichi on the porch.”