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Kujo Jotaro was an enigma. Which is why Rohan found himself so fascinated with him.
Everything about Jotaro said quiet reservation. A marine biologist who was, even now, writing a paper that he was hoping would get him a doctorate. And yet he was in this small town, investigating murderers, bearing a vast knowledge of criminal psychology and human nature in general.
And yet, when it came to action, Jotaro never hesitated. He was swift, and brutal with his dealing of justice, and went about it in a practiced way that was never vindictive or petty. It was just for the sake of ridding the world of another wicked being. This was the part of Jotaro that screamed 'hero'. He was a man of contradictions, but not in a bad or unlikable way. Rohan couldn't help but wonder what this man had seen in his lifetime, what he had done, that had made him this way.
The mangaka found himself thinking about it more than he probably should have while he was in Jotaro's room at the Morioh Grand Hotel one afternoon. He'd gone there with his album of photos, having gone over them too many times and thinking it was best for another person to look at them, hoping someone as perceptive as Jotaro would be able to pick out something he might have missed.
He'd surprised Jotaro when he got there—even though he didn't show it—and probably should have called first, but the man let him in anyway once he had explained why he was there, and all Jotaro said was, "I'm making a fresh pot of coffee if you want some," before he proceeded to clear off the table, pushing the files to one side to make room for Rohan's pictures.
Rohan crossed to the table and set his album down before heading into the kitchenette, waiting for the coffee to finish up.
He glanced back toward Jotaro as the older man stacked more papers to the side and Rohan caught sight of a scar on his arm. Jotaro had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and Rohan found suddenly that he could not look away from the spot of white, tight skin on his forearm. It looked old, but had obviously been bad considering the pucker it had left in his flesh. It looked like a knife-wound, and he was pretty sure because Rohan had made sure to research knife-wounds fully for several scenes of his manga. Perhaps it fascinated him so much because it couldn't have been from Jotaro's recent confrontation with Kira since when Josuke used Crazy Diamond to heal people, no scars were left. He wondered if hunting serial killers and Stand users was a more common occurrence for the marine biologist than he had thought.
Jotaro seemed to realize he was staring and quickly tugged his sleeves down, eyes narrowing. "Is the coffee done?" he asked gruffly.
Rohan glanced back toward the pot and took the hint. He went over and grabbed two cups, filling them as he continued his train of thought about his taciturn companion. He couldn't help but wonder what other scars Jotaro might be hiding and, more importantly, the stories behind them. When he thought about it, he realized that he had never seen Jotaro without a turtleneck or a high-collared coat, even now in the middle of summer. He'd even been alone before Rohan had arrived and he was still wearing his black turtleneck. That had to mean something.
Rohan really wanted to find out what. Curse his inherent curiosity.
"How do you take your coffee?" he called to Jotaro.
"Black."
Of course, Rohan snorted, and put a little sugar into his own before carrying the cups over to the table. He glanced at the papers and files Jotaro had moved to one side.
"What are these?"
"Missing persons cases," Jotaro said quietly, rubbing a hand over his face.
Rohan's eyes widened. "All of these are from Morioh?"
Jotaro nodded wearily. "We don't know if all of them are connected to Kira or not, but any connection might give us something. His victims are pretty easy to weed out, but there might be collateral damage too."
Rohan fought back a brief shudder at the mention of it. After all, he had nearly been collateral damage, hadn't he?
"Well," Rohan said, taking a sip of coffee to chase away the sudden chill. "If you look at the photos, I'll look through the files. Maybe you need a fresh pair of eyes too."
Jotaro nodded and Rohan pushed the album across the table as he started in on the nearest stack of files.
"Where did you get all these? Are you working with the police?" Rohan asked perhaps a little too eagerly, seeing the files were obviously from the local department.
"The Speedwagon Foundation pulled some strings," was all Jotaro said.
"I thought you were a marine biologist; how do you know so much about killer psychology and the like?" Rohan asked again.
Jotaro glanced up at him briefly before turning back to the photos. "I guess you could say I have a little experience in the department," was all he said.
Rohan pressed his lips into a thin line, slightly annoyed at the other man's taciturn nature, but, then, he didn't really know what to expect. Jotaro just really wasn't that much of a talker.
He also looked exhausted.
Rohan hadn't really noticed before, but Jotaro had very dark circles under his eyes, ones to rival his own when he was struck with inspiration and couldn't stop drawing. But he supposed that Jotaro had a lot of work on his plate, enough that he probably hadn't gotten a lot of sleep recently. And, maybe, if he was anything like Rohan, he couldn't.
Rohan wasn't a stranger to nightmares, in fact, a lot of time he welcomed them, using them as fuel for his manga. He'd been plagued by them since he was a child; he'd always had a very active imagination. But too many times lately, he'd sat up in bed through the night, sleepless, terrified, paranoid even, that Kira would find him.
He hated being so scared, but he didn't know how to stop his fear. The idea that, as a child he'd nearly been killed by a serial killer, and didn't remember anything about it, led his mind to create scenarios that might have even been more terrifying than what had actually happened.
If Rohan was being honest with himself—which he tried to do as little as possible—he would admit that the whole prospect terrified him. The idea that this man was out there with an unknown face. That he might remember Rohan or at least Reimi. After all, she was his first, there was no way he would forget her. And it wasn't like his survival hadn't been reported on in the paper, an article that Kira might even have saved somewhere as a reminder of his first kill. Rohan knew that getting away from a serial killer could put a target on your back, and some nights, when he actually made it to his bed, he would just sit there with the lights on, unable to sleep, because he was terrified that Kira would climb through the window and murder him in his sleep.
Sometimes, he wondered if remembering would help his night terrors, or if it would only recall a trauma that had obviously been so bad that his four-year-old mind had erased it completely.
He took a break from the files to get up and refill his coffee. He glanced around the room, realizing the place looked like a working office. Aside from the papers and files scattered all over the small table near the kitchenette, the too-small desk was also covered in files, heavy books and an abundance of papers and notebooks. Judging from the titles of the reference books, Rohan realized that was where Jotaro kept the research for his paper. One wall had also been used as a pinboard, with pictures of all known victims of Kira as well as any location he had been seen before he disappeared, connected by a very precise line of string. He couldn't imagine the hotel would be happy about their wallpaper.
Rohan crossed over to look at it, studying the pictures in depth.
He thought perhaps he should make a list to help him organize his thoughts and went back to grab a stack of files, returning to sit in a chair facing the wall, and spreading those out on the coffee table as he grabbed a notepad and began to make up his list referencing all the known victims and cross-referencing them with other missing persons who matched similar descriptions and disappeared in similar ways.
It took longer than he had anticipated, and he was so engrossed in the work that he was startled by a quiet thud from behind him.
He spun quickly, about to call out his Stand, when he just realized it had been Jotaro dropping a notebook on the ground.
He didn't pick it up though, and Rohan suddenly realized he was fast asleep. He snorted softly as he stood to retrieve the notebook. Kujo Jotaro didn't look so invincible and heroic when he was asleep. He just looked normal. He must have been even more exhausted than Rohan had thought, considering he had fallen asleep sitting up at the table, one hand propping up his chin, the other hanging in his lap.
His head was tilted to one side and as Rohan approached, he caught sight of another scar on Jotaro's neck, peeking out from his turtleneck. Yet another question Rohan was burning to have answered.
He bent to pick up the notebook though, reaching for it under the table, but when he picked it up, something fell out of it.
Rohan crouched, forgetting the notebook for a second, as he picked up the items and found pictures.
The first one was of a little girl, maybe four or five, with green eyes and dark hair done up in pigtails, a small, shy smile on her face. The next one was of the same girl and Jotaro, the man actually smiling, holding the girl while her arms were wrapped around his neck. Rohan couldn't help a small surprised smile. He hadn't known Jotaro had a daughter, but for some reason, it made sense.
The third picture was an old polaroid that had some creases, and was a little faded, but it was obvious to Rohan who at least two of the people were in the picture. It wasn't hard to recognize Joseph Joestar even though he was a little younger here, and Jotaro…even though he was dressed like a punk and was obviously maybe Josuke's age or a little older, he still held the same taciturn expression as he did now.
It looked like they were in the desert somewhere, and Rohan found that he really wanted to know who the other three men, and the dog, in the picture were. He'd heard snatches of stories about Egypt from Koichi, but his young friend didn't know much at all, just what he'd heard from Josuke and even he didn't know much more than that it was about some family feud that had been going on for over a century.
Rohan had to guess that there was more to it than that, if Jotaro was so determined to keep tight-lipped about it.
Rohan straightened up, setting the pictures and the notebook on the table as he thought. Well…if he was ever going to get the chance…
He shouldn't do it, he knew he shouldn't, and yet, Rohan's curiosity was too great to see reason—or common decency.
He called out Heaven's Door and Jotaro's face split down the middle, opening like a book.
Rohan wet his lips and eagerly reached out to flip to the first page…
A large hand clamped around his wrist painfully, and he suddenly felt the sensation of choking, looking up to see Star Platinum with its hand around Heaven's Door's throat.
Jotaro's aquamarine eyes were staring at him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Rohan couldn't answer. He didn't really have an answer anyway. He simply gasped as the constriction on his throat tightened.
Jotaro stood, shoving him to the ground. Rohan collapsed, instinctively scrambling backwards as the older man towered over him.
"I-I'm sorry," Rohan choked out. "I…"
Jotaro glowered at him, then grunted, waving his hand at Star Platinum. The Stand disappeared and Rohan hurriedly recalled Heaven's Door as well, gasping in relief as he rubbed his throat.
Jotaro's face returned to normal, but it didn't curb the fury in his eyes. He glanced down at the table as Rohan climbed to his feet again, and his eyes caught sight of the pictures.
"So, you snoop around my stuff and then thought to snoop around my head too?" Jotaro demanded, his voice low and cold, a dangerous tone that put a small spike of fear into Rohan's chest.
"Your notebook fell, I was simply retrieving it," Rohan insisted a little indignantly.
"Yeah, and?" Jotaro folded his arms across his chest. "You think that gave you permission to look in my head?"
Rohan straightened, pulling his shoulders back, even though he still couldn't hope to match Jotaro in height. "I was simply curious. I saw this photo, and…well, obviously you'd probably never tell me if I asked. You're a fascinating man, I can't imagine the stories you have. What you've lived through…"
"What I've lived through," Jotaro repeated blandly. "You have no damn clue."
"I just wanted to know, your past in incredibly intriguing to me," Rohan tried to protest, even though he was pretty sure he was just making this worse.
"You can make up your own damn version then, that's what you do, isn't it?" Jotaro grunted. "I'm sure it will be better than the real thing."
"On the contrary," Rohan protested, folding his arms across his chest. "I actually much prefer to put as much truth into my writing as I can, which is why people fascinate me so much. Fiction is only truly good when you can put as many truths as possible into it."
"That doesn't give you leave to look into people's lives without their permission," Jotaro snapped.
"You're right, I'm sorry," Rohan said quickly, realizing he wasn't going to get anywhere with Jotaro. "I overstepped my boundaries. I should go." He hurried to pick up the album still on the table, starting toward the door.
"Wait," Jotaro called him back.
Rohan turned hesitantly, preparing for a beating via Star Platinum.
"You have a lot of power, don't get cocky with it," Jotaro told him darkly. "If you ever try to use it on me again, or if I find out you use it on someone else for anything but self-defense, I'll count you an enemy and you don't want that." Rohan didn't think he had ever heard Jotaro string so many words together at once. "You don't go poking around where you have no right to be. You may find out things you don't want to know."
Rohan gulped and gave a sharp nod. "Like I said, I'm sorry."
He then turned around and retreated as quickly as possible, not pausing until he got out to the front of the hotel, breathing the fresh air of the warm summer night. Okay, admittedly trying to read Kujo Jotaro's memories had been a bad idea. However, it had also only resulted in him being even more curious. What did Jotaro have to hide that was so bad he didn't want anyone to know about? Was it a shady past that he'd rather forget, or was it perhaps trauma like Rohan, maybe something he didn't want to remember.
He found himself thinking about it for the rest of the night as he tried to concentrate on the outline for his next manga volume. His head was aching, and he found he was exhausted. He'd barely slept for days. He went down to the kitchen and made himself a cup of chamomile tea. He hated the flavor, but sometimes it could help lull him into some semblance of sleep.
He didn't go to sleep in his bed, preferring the more open living room where he turned the television on low for some background noise and lay down on the couch, trying to relax.
He must have eventually fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, he was in the dark, and someone was in the house.
Rohan was frozen. He couldn't move, lying paralyzed in the smothering darkness, the only light right now was from the doorway that led to the kitchen, allowing in the light from the window above the sink.
A dark shadow passed in front of the doorway and came closer, silhouetted in the door frame. There was something dangling from his hand and Rohan could hear the slow, measured beat of something dripping onto the ground, the sound thunderous in the otherwise silent house.
Rohan's breath came in short gasps, his mouth hanging open in terror, no other sound but his raspy breaths hissing past his dry lips.
The dark figure stepped forward.
"I've been looking for you, Kishibe Rohan," said a voice as the intruder continued toward his paralyzed figure. "You got away from me last time, but this time, you have nowhere to run and no one to save you."
The faceless man came closer to him and raised his hand. Moonlight flashed across a blade, catching the crimson sheen of blood as it dripped to the floor…
~~~~~~~
Rohan jolted upright with a scream, flailing and tumbling straight off the couch, knocking the breath from himself against the hard floor.
He curled up there, just focusing on getting air into his lungs again as he trembled. He buried his face in his hands, trying to fight against the terror that still gripped him. Why couldn't he get over this? Were these all memories, or were they his own imagination? He wished he knew. He wondered if it would help him sleep if he did.
He finally pushed himself upright and snatched the remote, turning off the television before he got to his shaking feet, and hurried to his kitchen, sliding a knife from the block. He searched the house like this with a kitchen knife, looking in every possible place, checking every door and window to make sure it was locked.
He didn't feel any better after he finished, simply slumped back onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling.
Is that why Jotaro couldn't sleep? Did he have dreams like this, real memories, that haunted him so badly he couldn't stand the thought of closing his eyes? How did he deal with it? Maybe knowing how to distinguish fiction from fact made it easier?
Rohan ran a hand through his hair and thought again about his memories and just what he had repressed of his childhood trauma. Would it actually be possible to read his own memories with Heaven's Door? He hadn't been able to before, but he'd learned a lot and grown in his power over the last couple months. Maybe he could now, and all he had to do was try it.
It was a bad idea, he knew this, but when had that stopped him before, especially when his curiosity got the better of him? Obviously, it hadn't stopped him earlier from trying to read Jotaro's memories, even though that attempt had been a failure.
Really, what did he have to lose at this point? Either it would work, and he would know for sure, which might make him feel better, or it wouldn't, in which case, he couldn't change that.
Rohan took a steadying breath and summoned Heaven's Door. The Stand hovered in front of him, looking uncertain, as if even he was unsure whether this was a good idea or not. Rohan swallowed hard and gave his Stand a nod.
The small Stand reached out to touch him in the center of the forehead and Rohan gasped as an uncomfortable tearing feeling occurred. He blinked and saw Heaven's Door with a fissure down his face too.
"Hah," Rohan exclaimed in awe. "It actually worked."
He reached out cautiously toward his Stand and opened the book on his face, feeling the pages mirrored on his own open as well. He flipped back through his recent memories to those of his childhood. A lot of it he remembered. He'd been a strange, loner of a child, with no friends really. Maybe he'd cared a bit more than he had been willing to admit even back then, but he'd found his love of art early and started writing manga professionally in high school, so by then, it didn't matter that he had no friends. He didn't need them.
Current Rohan wasn't so certain on that stance anymore.
But, finally, among his earliest memories he found the discrepancy he was looking for.
There were several blank pages, and then finally a warning written in.
Kishibe Rohan cannot read past this point.
"Kishibe Rohan cannot…" Rohan began to read, flabbergasted. "This is my own head! I'll read what I damn well please!" He pulled out a pencil and lowered the eraser toward the spot when he hesitated. How bad was this that he had put a warning to himself? That his subconscious had hidden these memories from him? Maybe he really didn't want to remember.
But Kishibe Rohan was curious above all else, and that trait was the one that always won out, advised or not.
Before he could think of it again, he lowered the eraser and scrubbed out the cannot, replacing it simply with can.
He set the pencil aside careful and reached out with a trembling hand.
Heaven's Door looked up at him worriedly. Rohan bit his lip and took hold of the page, flipping it.
Something felt like it broke in his mind. A splitting headache crashed through his head as images flashed across his eyes. He saw Heaven's Door's mouth open in a silent scream—or maybe they were both screaming—before everything went black.
~~~~~~~
Rohan was terrified. He hid in the corner of Reimi's room where she had told him to. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew it was bad.
"Arnold," he croaked, looking for the dog who always looked after him and Reimi. He didn't know where Arnold was, he wanted him and Reimi back now. He wanted his mom and dad.
A scream pierced the night, and Rohan knew it was Reimi. He cowered further into the corner, terrified. Footsteps pounded back toward the door and he screamed as it was flung open but it was only Reimi, rushing inside. Tears streamed from her eyes and she flew toward Rohan.
"What's wrong?" he cried.
"Shh," she said, choking on a sob as she bent to pick him up. "You need to be quiet, Rohan-chan. Like—like wh-when we're playing h-hide and seek, okay?"
"Where's Arnold?" Rohan whined, clutching her tightly, pressing his face into her shoulder.
Her breath hitched in another sob. "H-he's not here. Please, Rohan, please be quiet."
There was a sound in the house and Reimi choked out a half-scream as she clutched Rohan tighter. She hurried to her window and unlocked it hurriedly with one shaking hand.
"Listen to me, Rohan-chan, once you get out the window, you have to run. Promise me that you'll run as fast as you can to your house, okay?"
"But mommy and daddy aren't home," he said, tears welling in his eyes, scared, and terrified to see Reimi crying as well. She never cried. "Why are you crying?"
She only sobbed again, breathless. "Please, just do what I say," she pleaded and leaned out the window, trying to put him down.
Rohan only clung to her tighter. "I don't want to go alone, come with me!" he pleaded, sniffling.
"I'll be right behind you," she said and pried him off of her before lowering him into the bushes under the window. "Run, Rohan!"
Something crashed in the room and Reimi screamed again, making Rohan cry as he fought to see what was happening.
"Trying to run away?" a deep voice said from inside. "You're not going to get away from me."
"You bastard," Reimi sobbed. "Y-you killed them!"
"Reimi!" Rohan whimpered, reaching up for her as she stood with her back to the window. She lashed out and there was a cry before she turned around, grasping the window frame.
There was a growl like that from a monster, and then Reimi screamed in pain, collapsing against the windowsill.
"Reimi!" Rohan screamed.
Something red and hot splashed across the half-open window and across Rohan. Reimi's eyes were open wide as she stared down, something dripping from her mouth as she made choking sounds. She slowly slid back into the room with a dull thud.
Sirens were wailing in the night now, and Rohan could only stare, hiding in the bushes, shaking, unable to speak. His young mind couldn't process what he had just witnessed, he only knew that something horrible had happened and he didn't know what to do about it, he couldn't even make a sound.
He just knew that he was all alone in the dark, and he was terrified.
~~~~~~~
"Jotaro-san, something is wrong with Rohan!"
Koichi's voice sounded frantic over the phone. Too frantic for Jotaro to consider the fact that Kishibe Rohan always had something wrong with him.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"He—he's just lying there on the floor, can you please come over?" Koichi pleaded.
Jotaro ran a hand over his face, but if something really was wrong, if the mangaka had been attacked by a Stand user or something, then he would feel bad for not doing anything.
"I'll be right there," he promised and ended the call.
Jotaro grabbed his hat and coat and headed out of the hotel.
Kishibe Rohan. He shook his head. What a damn nuisance. He'd done good work with the photos, Jotaro had to admit that, but he was still irked by their encounter the day before when the mangaka had had the gall to try and read his memories when he had fallen asleep for all of two minutes. That was the kind of thing that broke trust really quickly.
Jotaro's hand clenched around the steering wheel at the thought. At how lightly Rohan had talked about his past. How it was interesting and he was curious. When those same interesting and curious events kept Jotaro up more nights than he cared to admit. When he remembered the friends he had lost, when he remembered Dio's sadistic grin as he boasted about killing Jotaro's friends, when he'd essentially died, having Star Platinum stop his heart. The pain of his injuries after the adrenaline wore off, only rivaled by the pain of loss.
And how when he did sleep, there were the nightmares. Some worse, even more cruel, than the memories. How when he was home he slept on the couch most nights because once he had almost strangled his wife, thinking she was his enemy. If it hadn't been for Star…
Rohan making light of it had really pissed him off in ways he couldn't even describe. The mangaka didn't realize how lucky he was that he couldn't remember his childhood trauma. It wasn't worth it. It may have been over ten years now, but Jotaro still wasn't over the events that had happened in Egypt.
He pulled up in front of the mangakas' house and Koichi was standing outside the door, wringing his hands. He ran up to Jotaro as soon as he got out of the car.
"Thank you for coming Jotaro-san! I tried calling Josuke but I don't think he's home yet."
"What happened?" Jotaro asked gruffly.
"I just came over to see if I could help him with the photos, but he didn't answer and when I looked through the window, I just saw him lying there, and…"
Jotaro followed the teen over to the window and glanced inside.
His eyes widened at what he saw.
Rohan was lying on the floor as Koichi said, but more concerning was the fact that his Stand was lying there too, both of them with their faces opened like a book.
"I didn't know he could do that to himself," Jotaro mused.
"I didn't think he could! I don't know why he would try…" Koichi said, trailing off.
Jotaro didn't reply, but he thought he might know. What a damned idiot.
He went back to the door and used Star to reach through and unlock it.
Koichi pushed past him and ran into the living room to crouch down beside Rohan, Jotaro following him.
"Rohan!" Koichi cried, reaching out to shake the mangaka's shoulder. He didn't move, in fact, he seemed practically paralyzed.
"I don't understand," Koichi said, still gripping the front of Rohan's shirt.
Jotaro crouched next to him, staring at Rohan's face. It was unnerving, the power Heaven's Door had, Rohan's face peeled open like a book. Even more unnerving, because his eyes were wide open, staring at nothing, but obviously seeing something, lips trembling as he breathed in sharp gasps, his whole body shaking. Was he caught in some horrible memory?
"I just don't understand why he would do this…" Koichi said.
Jotaro glanced at the exposed pages, skimming through the writing there and flipping back several pages to see a blank one that only had "Kishibe Rohan CAN read past this point".
"Kishibe, you damned idiot," Jotaro grunted.
Koichi glanced over to see what he was looking at and gasped. "Is that…do you think he…?"
"He unlocked his memories of what happened the night Sugimoto Reimi was killed," Jotaro replied grimly.
Koichi put a hand over his mouth. "What can we do? We have to snap him out of this!"
Rohan let out a breathless whimper, and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, dripping across the pages. Jotaro pressed his lips together. He might still be pissed at Rohan for what he had done, but he couldn't help but feel sorry for him in this moment. Even if he'd done it to himself. From what he'd read, the repressed memories hadn't been pretty.
"You would have been better off not knowing," he muttered to the mangaka. "I hope you realize that now."
He brought out Star and his Stand leaned over Heaven's Door, closing the small Stand's face. The pages on Rohan's face slid closed as well, but there was still a small fissure right down the middle. Jotaro hauled back and slapped him, making Koichi jump.
"Jotaro-san!"
Jotaro ignored him. "Kishibe! Hey, wake up, and recall your Stand," he said loudly.
Rohan's body slumped, eyes blinking slightly as if waking from a long dream. He murmured something, but finally Heaven's Door dissipated and Rohan's face returned to normal.
Except for the tears that still leaked from his eyes, and he continued to shudder, still not seeming to be completely aware of his surroundings.
Jotaro sighed and simply slipped his arms under the small man, lifting him with little effort and depositing him onto the couch.
"Koichi, go make him some tea. He could use something hot," Jotaro said, grabbing the blanket off the foot of the couch and swiftly tucking it around the shivering figure. Rohan had curled up on his side, lips trembling and he subconsciously clutched the blanket to him. He honestly looked pitiful like this and Jotaro reached up and tugged the brim of his hat down.
"Good grief," he muttered.
"J-Jotaro…?"
Jotaro looked down and saw Rohan finally focusing on him, looking up cautiously.
Jotaro nodded silently.
He looked around, blinking. "Why are you here?"
"Because you're a damned idiot," Jotaro told him gruffly. "You're lucky Koichi stopped by, otherwise I don't know how long you would have been like that."
Rohan shuddered and burrowed deeper into his blanket. "I didn't…think it would be that bad…" he whispered, eyes haunted.
Jotaro sighed and pulled a chair over, sitting beside the couch. God he was tired. "You repressed those memories for a reason."
"But I was four, I thought…I thought I could handle it now, but I…" Rohan bit his lip, looking like he was going to punch right through it with his teeth. "It was terrible," he finished quietly. "I wish…I wish I hadn't looked."
"Yeah," Jotaro grunted, folding his arms across his chest. He took a brief moment to revel in Rohan's repentance, until the man made a strangled, choking sound and buried his face in the blanket, shoulders shaking even harder.
Jotaro watched for a long second. He hated when people cried. It had taken him long enough to get used to what he should do with Jolyne when she was upset and she was his own kid. And yet, despite the awkward situation, he couldn't help but feel bad for Rohan, especially seeing him like this. He really hadn't understood what he was getting himself into, and he hadn't had anyone there to advise him against it.
"Hey," he said finally, reaching out with a foot to nudge Rohan in the knee. Rohan stopped crying with a shuddering breath and revealed his reddened eyes over the edge of the blanket, glaring at Jotaro.
"I know you don't care, you don't have to stay here if you don't want to," Rohan snapped.
Jotaro sighed and rolled his eyes. "That's not true. I'm genuinely sorry you had to relive that. Sometimes I think it would be nice to have a power like you, to be able to lock things away whenever you want to."
Rohan sat up, the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. "I'm sorry," he said.
Unlike the day before, this apology sounded sincere. Jotaro straightened.
"I'm sorry I tried to read your memories. Really. I guess until now with my own foolish decision, I never realized just how much they can hurt. Even after meeting Reimi and finding out the truth, it didn't really settle in, because I still couldn't remember anything. I always thought I was…" He bit his lip again, but pushed on with a groan. "I always thought I was above that."
Jotaro almost snorted but couldn't help but see a certain kindred spirit within this man. "I did too," he finally admitted.
Rohan stared at him. "Y-you?"
"Before everything happened, before I lost people I cared about. I thought I was above emotional fallout as well. That's why I pushed everyone away, but humans in general don't work like that. Even if we'd like to think we do sometimes."
Rohan stared at him for a long moment, and then a determination flooded his green eyes. "I want to stop him," he said. "Kira. I want to take him out."
Jotaro nodded. "We will." He stood. "Koichi was making tea for you. I'll go see if it's done."
He started to walk away when Rohan shifted on the couch.
"Jotaro," he called.
The older man stopped.
"I…I could bury those memories for you, if you want. I could make you forget them."
Jotaro's fist clenched at his side as he remembered his dead friends, his injuries, mental and physical, the scars he hated to look at, the sleepless nights…And yet. And yet.
He took a deep breath and turned around to face the mangaka. "You know, as much as those memories plague me, they're part of me. The friends I lost…as much as it hurts, I could never stand to forget them. I could never allow myself to forget them. Sometimes those are the memories that define us the most."
Rohan stared at him for a long moment, then swallowed hard and pressed his lips into a thin line. "I think…that perhaps I will take that advice as well," he said.
Jotaro nodded, and turned back toward the kitchen. Maybe Kishibe wasn't so bad after all, and maybe they actually had a lot more in common than he had realized.