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The first time Josuke really notices the scarf is when he, Okuyasu and Jotaro are heading to Tonio’s to introduce Jotaro to actual food, not the shitty take-out he always gets. They’re passing by the cemetery where Keicho rests when Okuyasu grabs at Jotaro’s scarf in a poor attempt to get his attention.
Like he’s been stung, Jotaro whirls around and there’s a fury in his eyes that Josuke’s never seen before. He takes a step back, blinks, and but just like that, it’s gone.
Okuyasu stammers out an apology. Jotaro narrows his eyes.
“Don’t touch that scarf,” he says. Not his scarf, but that scarf, like it isn’t a part of him the way his coat and hat and pins are despite Josuke never seeing him without it. “What did you want?”
“Huh?” Okuyasu says. He looks to Josuke, as if he’s got an answer, then back to Jotaro. He gulps. “Oh—oh, it’s nothing, man. Don’t worry about it.”
A beat of silence. Then, “Let’s keep moving.”
Jotaro turns and walks off without waiting for them. The scarf trails behind him. Josuke wants to question it but the tension in the air is suffocating and he chokes down his words. Next to him, Okuyasu whispers, “What was that all about?”
Despite everything, Jotaro is proud of him, even when half his body is melting away from the power of that rat’s stand.
While Josuke is putting him back together, he says, “Good job,” and “I knew I could trust you.” Though Jotaro is all healed up, there are still bloodstains on the ground, a reminder that Josuke had fucked up. One wrong move and Jotaro could have died in front of him. To a rat, no less.
Josuke stands, wanting nothing more than to leave this nasty bog with the dead rats and blood and people crammed into fridges and go home, flop onto his bed and sleep forever. But Jotaro is still crouching down on the ground, hunched over a little.
“Jotaro?” Josuke asks. “You good? Did I miss a spot?” He knows he didn't. But Jotaro isn't moving.
He leans down, catches sight of Jotaro holding that scarf in his hands. Or, what’s left of it. The rat’s stand must have affected it and torn it in half, leaving the pieces ripped and lumpy.
The scarf is, admittedly, ugly. It was probably once a pure white but now, the colour’s faded and it’s frayed at the edges. Torn in some places, even. Josuke would never be caught dead wearing it and in all honesty, he wants to say good riddance.
But Jotaro is staring at it like it just died, cradling it like it’s his kid. Josuke is moving before he realizes it—summons Crazy Diamond and pieces it back together without issue. He fixes up the tears, even brightens the colour a little bit.
“There,” Josuke says. “Good as new.”
Jotaro runs his hands along the fabric, gently, like he’s afraid he’ll break it again. He exhales and looks away.
“Thank you,” he says, quieter than a whisper.
The rat incident isn’t the last training Josuke does with Jotaro. Okuyasu and Koichi even join him, sometimes, eager to get stronger. Today, however, he and Jotaro are alone by the beach by the Morioh Grand Hotel—far enough that they’re out of sight of civilians, close enough to hear the steady rumble of waves.
Now, Josuke’s never really thought of himself as built, but he knows he’s in decent physical shape. On the other hand, Jotaro and his stand are built like a goddamn tank and Josuke thinks it’s entirely unfair that Jotaro expects him to be able to fend off Star Platinum. Testing his reaction time, the speed of his punches, his ability to block hits.
He knows he’s making progress when he sees the first bead of sweat trail down Jotaro’s forehead. By then, Josuke had already shed his jacket and downed an entire water bottle. Twenty minutes later, Jotaro has taken off his hat and his coat, the heat of his exertion proving too much.
“It’s too damn hot out here,” Jotaro says. Josuke, from where he’s laying on the ground after failing to block a kick from Star Platinum, looks over.
“You could always take off your scarf.”
Jotaro tosses one end of the scarf over his shoulder, loosens it a little. “It’s fine. Get up, I’ll teach you how to block properly.”
Josuke is too tired to complain about Jotaro’s weirdness or his stupid training. But he manages to block the next kick from Star Platinum and knock Jotaro on his back, so maybe it’s worth it.
Jotaro’s hotel room becomes a hangout spot for Josuke, Okuyasu and Koichi in no time. It’s nearby, it’s posh, it’s by the ocean and it’s a spot all to themselves. And Jotaro, he supposes, though he mostly minds his own business, typing away on that thesis of his.
That doesn’t stop them from trying to drag Jotaro into their conversations anyways. Josuke and Okuyasu are draped over the couch while Koichi sits on the ground, and he’s arguing with Okuyasu on the best car to use in F-MEGA.
“Why would you need more power if you’ve got speed?” Okuyasu says. “Besides, green’s a better colour than blue.”
“If you have more power, then you can do more shortcuts! Just because you can’t do them doesn’t mean they’re useless.” Josuke would feel bad for insulting Okuyasu’s ability in video games, but denying that the blue car is obviously the best is a crime.
“I’ve beaten you without using the shortcuts, haven’t I?”
“Ugh, what do you think, Jotaro?” Josuke asks, even if he only managed to bully Jotaro into playing the game a grand total of two times (in which Jotaro lost horribly both times). He turns his head to catch a glance of Jotaro and to his surprise, he’s not at his desk. He’s standing by the window, staring out of it with a faraway look in his eyes, rubbing that scarf between his fingers. Back and forth, back and forth. “...Jotaro?”
Jotaro flinches. He faces Josuke, but the scarf’s still in his hands. “Sorry. I wasn’t listening.”
“We were askin’ you which car in F-MEGA is better,” Okuyasu says before Josuke can tell Jotaro it wasn't important. “The green one with more speed or the blue one with more power?”
“...Green,” Jotaro says. Okuyasu whoops and punches the air triumphantly; Koichi lets out a sigh of relief, thankful that their debate is over, as if this is going to be the last one.
“You only say that because you play the green car,” Josuke points out.
Jotaro shakes his head. “No, I know the green car is powerful.”
He doesn’t elaborate. Jotaro’s been right about a number of things, but he’s also pretty dumb sometimes. Not Okuyasu-dumb, but a catch-a-bullet-that-melts-people-because-I-want-to-see-what-happens dumb. Something about the way he says it, though, makes Josuke believe him. Even if it means admitting that Okuyasu is right.
Why Koichi decides to ask Jotaro for relationship-related advice is beyond Josuke when he and Okuyasu are right there. He supposes he’ll let it slide; after all, his and Okuyasu’s plan to get Yukako to hate Koichi backfired. What do they know about what she’d like?
After Koichi forces his way inside Jotaro’s hotel room under the guise of “ it’s an emergency,” he sits down on the couch and points to the scarf Jotaro has hanging on the back of a chair.
“Mr. Jotaro?” Koichi says. “I’ve been thinking about buying Yukako a present, but I’m not sure what I should get. Where did you get that scarf from? I was thinking maybe something like that would make her happy.”
Jotaro freezes and Josuke wonders if this is what people look like when he stops time. He takes a moment to compose himself, adjusting his cap so the brim’s hiding most of his face. “I didn’t buy it. Or steal it,” Jotaro adds with a sigh after seeing Okuyasu open his mouth. He shuts it with an audible snap.
Koichi’s shoulders drop. “Oh. It was a gift? Do you know where they got it from?”
“Yes. And no.”
He says it with a sense of finality. That’s Jotaro, all right. Josuke gives Koichi a pat on the shoulder. “Cheer up. I’m sure you’ll think of something to get her. Honestly, she’d probably love any old piece of trash, as long as it’s coming from you.”
That makes Koichi groan, but Jotaro hides a snort under his hand. Mission accomplished.
Jotaro’s eyes are a little brighter when he joins the three of them to search through a catalogue for the perfect gift.
One week, Jotaro ignores Josuke’s calls for three days in a row. Well, not exactly. He picks up, asks Josuke if there’s an emergency, and hangs up when he hears no. He wonders if it’s something personal, but Okuyasu, Koichi and even Rohan tell him that Jotaro’s given them the same treatment.
“He gets like this sometimes,” Mr. Joestar says when Josuke comes to him in a panic, memories of Chili Pepper and Surface and all those other stand users who wanted to hurt Jotaro at the forefront of his mind. “He shuts everybody out when he needs them most.”
“Why would he do that? I don’t understand him sometimes."
Mr. Joestar only winks. “I think you’ll find him by the beach," he responds like that answered Josuke's question.
Josuke wonders if all the Joestars are like this and grumbles all the way down to the beach, trodding through the sand and cringing at the way it fills his shoes. True to Mr. Joestar’s word, Jotaro is sitting by the ocean on a bench. His scarf blows in the wind behind him.
He doesn’t seem surprised when Josuke approaches him. “Lemme guess," Jotaro says. "The old man told you where I was." He doesn’t welcome Josuke, but he doesn’t protest either when Josuke takes a seat next to him.
“Yup,” Josuke answers. He should probably tell Jotaro to be more careful, that there’s still a killer on the loose. Or to stop ignoring his calls. But this is Jotaro, who clams up at any mention of things like this, so Josuke simply relaxes into his seat, enjoying the sight of the ocean before him.
Jotaro doesn’t strike up a conversation. But it’s fine like that. He’s become such a part of Josuke’s life that he hadn’t realized how weird it was to have him just stop being present all out of the blue. It’s scary. It reminds Josuke of his grandpa. One day, he’s talking to him and all is well and the next day, he’s gone without an explanation.
His grandpa, who now sleeps under some flowers in a cemetery far away from home.
It feels like forbidden territory to bring it up. But something tells Josuke he should start talking now.
“That scarf," Josuke says, "must have been from someone really important to you.”
He holds his breath, waits for an answer.
Jotaro is silent for a minute. “Yeah,” he eventually says. “It was.”
And later, inside Jotaro’s hotel room, Josuke finds a photograph on his desk. There’s a younger Jotaro, with the barest hint of a smile, and a more-energetic version of Mr. Joestar, too. He’s heard enough stories about Polnareff to recognize the Frenchman, but he’s never heard of the man with the strange scars, the dog in Mr. Joestar’s arms or the boy with the cherry earrings.
He thinks of that white scarf, how it faintly smells like cherries. He thinks of the way Jotaro’s expression goes a little more vacant when he hears the word Egypt. He thinks of the way Jotaro walks with his shoulders hunched, as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders and—
And he thinks he understands.