Chapter Text
"Hey, Jotaro-san! D'you want to try some of this cake?"
Jotaro shakes his head, and Josuke shrugs.
"Suit yourself." At least he gets a whole cake to himself now. He bites into it, savouring the rich, sweet flavour. He loves the cakes that they do at Morioh Cafe. They are unlike any cake he has ever had before.
He looks up, watching the everyday hustle and bustle of Morioh. It’s hot today; the sun hangs overhead in the cloudless sky, seemingly smiling down at earth. He decides it’s a good day. He likes this day.
He takes another bite, and thinks a bit. Jotaro hadn’t asked him to come to the cafe— no, he had simply seen his nephew sitting alone and felt obliged to sit with him. He feels as if Jotaro gets lonely, sometimes. It doesn’t show on the older man’s face, though. He looks back to Jotaro again, who is taking another sip of his (Josuke assumes) coffee.
He eats the last of his cake, almost mournful about the fact that there is none left. He should get this for Okuyasu. He would like it.
“Jotaro-san, you really should’ve had some of this cake.”
“It’s alright.” He almost hates the fact that Jotaro doesn’t seem to care. He had bought this cake to try to persuade Jotaro to eat it, after all.
They sit for a while, Jotaro sipping his coffee and staring at some documents, occasionally glancing up at Josuke, who stares at the other man, not really thinking anything. He blinks.
“Anyway...I should get going soon.” Is it just him, or does his voice sound more distant than usual?
Jotaro looks up again. “Sure. Where are you going?”
“Uhhh…” where is he going again? It isn’t that he can’t remember, it's more like he just can’t place it. He blinks again— once, twice, three times. His vision goes in and out of focus. He doubts that’s good.
“Josuke?” He realises he’s zoned out. Jotaro has gotten up now, and he is looking down at him with a foreign expression on his face.
“Jotaro-san.” His voice feels slurred. His voice isn’t supposed to be slurred. He screws his eyes shut, squinting, and opens them again to find the sun a little too bright for his eyes.
“Oi. Josuke.” He feels as if time is passing faster than it seems to. He tries to focus on Jotaro; he really does, but he just can’t .
There’s a hand on his shoulder. He feels someone kneel down so that they are at the same level that he is, and he tries to work out who, but everything is fuzzy.
“I…..think……...inside” From what broken speech he hears, Josuke assumes that this mystery person is implying that they should go inside. He tries to stand, but stumbles nearly immediately, and he feels something catch hold of him. It’s large, supporting and comforting, almost, providing him with some sense of familiarity in this distorted nothingness.
Jotaro. Right. This person is Jotaro. This person is- who?
He can’t concentrate, no matter how much he tries. He blinks away black spots which have begun to enter his vision at an alarming rate. The thing supporting him begins to move- and he stumbles again, being caught in a flash of purple.
Purple. He feels like he recognises that colour from somewhere. But before he can think, the thing begins to move again.
He feels as if he were floating and sinking at the same time. By now, not just black, but almost multicoloured lights dance in his vision, before he takes note of the sudden shift in atmosphere from free and open to small and clammy. He doesn’t know which he prefers. Although this new environment is slightly easier to focus in, it makes him feel slightly claustrophobic.
The thing sets him down on something soft, and in what could’ve been seconds, minutes or even hours, something cold is pressed gently to his lips, some form of liquid in a glass. He takes tentative sips from it gratefully.
The noise here is different too; almost like a low, monotonous buzz, unlike the outside which had been a cacophony to his ears, leaving them ringing. He hadn’t noticed that until now.
He also hadn’t noticed that something had been trying to get his attention this entire time. He looks up again from his glass, and it nearly slips from his hands, and he braces himself for some sort of crash, or feeling shards of glass spread, but it never comes. Instead, there is another flash of purple.
Now even the buzz is beginning to drown out and silence. All he knows is the abyss. Although abyss wasn’t the right way to describe it. It was more like soft static, both in his vision and hearing. It reminds him of when his radio would break down, leaving him straining to hear what the news reporter was actually trying to tell him. Although it doesn’t. It’s different. It’s not something small and irritating. He feels that this is something slightly more severe. He blinks again, but that doesn’t change the way that everything has faded to him.
Is the thing that helped him still there? He doesn’t know whether it matters or not, but he would like to thank that thing. He feels as if staying outside would’ve been a bad idea.
He opens his eyes. When did he close them?
“...suke…” Just that single syllable sparks something inside of him. He feels like he should know it, recognise it. But it doesn’t come to him. He hates that it doesn’t come to him.
He still needs to thank the thing, he realises. He begins to open his mouth, but it feels so heavy, and with immense effort, he manages to extract a sound from his lips, but he doesn’t hear it. He knows that the thing has heard him, though, because the static darkens, as if a shadow has passed over it. Not scary, or intimidating, but just a presence there for him.
Then, all at once, there is a bang, tearing through the unbearable yet comfortable hum. It tears through the nothing, right to him. And Josuke can’t breathe. And in front of him, it’s— it’s—
It’s Kira.
Although he can’t say that it really is Kira. But he remembers Kira, and someone else is shouting for him, and he tries, oh he tries to focus again, and Kira is dead , and he knows that, but—
It doesn’t work. So he just sits there, in pain, yet at the same time, numb.