Chapter Text
Alright, so here’s the sitch: Okuyasu’s never had actual friends before, let alone a best friend. When he and Keicho were hopping towns to find new stand users, Okuyasu never had much time to get all buddy-buddy with his peers. The longest he ever stayed at a school after his dad went all flesh-bud goopy mode was 4 months, and it didn’t help that he was a big ol scary-lookin’ thug with a freezer-cold tough motherfucker of a brother looming over his shoulder.
The few friends he did manage to make at all those different schools were tentative, wary. Other “troubled kids”, who only knew how to bond over split lips and stolen packs of cigarettes. They’d huddled together in alleys, tucked behind defunct vending machines, the smell of damp cardboard and acrid smoke to ward off the nosier of their pussyfooted, sheltered classmates. They were less friends and more like... allies. What better things to bond over than being in a shitty position, right?
So yeah, he’s new to this more wholesome, relaxed “just guys bein’ dudes” thing. But even he’s heard of the bro code.
He’s only got a vague idea of what’s in it though, honestly. Okuyasu overheard one of his classmates mention it once in his second year of middle school, and thought, there's a CODE??? He hasn't been able to fully get it off his mind since then, and tries to tune into the conversations of his male peers for that forbidden bro knowledge. He’s heard some of them talking about it during breaks, and so far the code seems to consist mostly of stuff like “don’t go for a girl your bro is after”, or “don’t let your bro date an ugly girl”, stuff like that.
He doesn’t really get the ‘ugly girl’ comment, since Yukako is a psycho even though she’s supermodel gorgeous. She’s a perfect example of why good looks don’t mean shit when it comes to dateability, but Koichi’s long since worked out his shit with Yukako (apparently, but Okuyasu’s still skeptical of Koichi’s total one-eighty with the crazy bitch. His friend seems happy though, so he’ll respect his lil buddy’s choices.) For being a bro code, a lot of it had to do with hoes, in his humble opinion.
After some deep research, consisting mostly of awkwardly eavesdropping on other boys’ conversations over ratty skin mags in the men’s room, Okuyasu can conclude 2 definitive things that are concrete in the bro code:
- Bros before hoes, and
- Always have your bro’s back. No matter what.
Shit, well, even he could do that.
- - -
First point: Bros before hoes.
This one, he’s got down. Okuyasu’s never gotten more than a passing glance from any of the girls in any of his schools, and those looks definitely weren’t lingering in any good ways. He’s especially never got a note in his locker or a shy offering to eat lunch on the roof together, so unless he gets really hot really fast, he isn't expecting that to change. His bro’s never gotta worry about losing his company to some girlfriend.
Josuke, though? Shiiit, man. Okuyasu might be dumb as a bag of rocks in a box of bricks, but he’s got eyes. Big ones, too. Josuke’s a looker for sure, and judging by the gaggles of cute girls fawning all over him on the walk to school, he’s not the only one who thinks so. Dude could totally model in those fancy Italian fashion magazines he’s so into. One look at him and those sweaty agency scouts would be offering him a position and a double page spread, easy.
But still, he’s not too worried. For some reason, Josuke’s never been all that interested in all the girls he’s got after him. Whenever Okuyasu asked him about it, he always responded with something like “I’m more into pure love, man,” whatever that meant. Kind of a waste, in his opinion. Most of the girls after Josuke are super cute, with their glossy hair done up in bouncy ponytails or cropped into soft bobs. Fluttery skirts and long lashes, pretty smiles and soft voices, the works. Okuyasu’s heart would probably explode into a billion pieces if any of em gave him the time of day. He can’t lie, he’s totally jealous of Josuke, but he doesn’t bug him about it. He’s sure his bro’s got his reasons. Girls are really hot, but he guesses that when you’re basically drowning in em like Josuke, it’s gotta be exhausting. Plus, Josuke’s a sensitive kinda guy, he’d probably get all guilty and sad if he had to choose just one. Which, yeah, Okuyasu probably would too.
Shit, he's already thinking more about hoes. Not before his bros though. Is there a tipping point to the rule? Is there a specific point where the dedication to hoes outweighs the bros that's dictated in the holy bro bible? Is there some kinda bro-to-hoe ratio or some shit that Okuyasu's gotta keep in mind???
Fuck, man. This is way too complicated. This is why he hates thinking, it always gets too messy and finicky the more he goes on.
Okuyasu groans and leans out his bedroom window, shoving his face into the cool 6 pm drizzle to clear his head. He can feel the gross sensation of the soggy, rotted windowsill sagging under his body weight, and the usual beachside humidity of Morioh-cho is only amplified by the weather. It’s kinda nice, though. He still isn’t used to having this much free time to just sit around and think about stuff.
After his brother died, there was all the shit with Kira. But when Keicho was alive, it was all work. Keicho’d done all the complicated shit like paying rent on the hovels they’d stayed in, keeping the cops off their backs when there wasn’t even a hovel available. Keicho was real proud of how ‘meticulous’ he was, and real vocal about how Okuyasu was too much of a dumbass to count high enough to help him budget. It always stung a little, but it’s not like his brother was wrong. He wasn't much good at all with stuff like math or calculating shit, so he took to doing "the housewife stuff", like Keicho called it. Cooking (he was always ok at it, but after he landed a job at Tonio's he got way better), cleaning (serviceable, given there was only so much he could do to improve their living conditions), all that shit.
He tries not to think about pinning down screaming teenagers on the barren front lawn of whatever abandoned shack Keicho'd found for them to squat in. Waiting for the inevitable spurt of blood all over his front after his brother shoots the poor kid through the neck. Those kids were just like him, in crappy situations with no one to give a shit about them, a dime a dozen. Being an accomplice in murder didn't sound like "housewife stuff."
Bad. Don't think about it. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts again. Okuyasu gets nauseous and jittery when he dwells on that stuff, and he's been in kind of a good mood lately, he doesn't wanna puke up his guts and cry like a little bitch again.
He flips his body around so his forearms rest against the window frame, poking his head farther out to look down the street at Josuke’s place. His bro probably doesn't have these problems. Does Josuke know about the bro code? Probably, but he's so cool that even if he didn't, people would still wanna be his friend. Okuyasu hasn’t seen him actually hang out with anyone other than him, Koichi, and the few odd stand users he sees out and about, but he’s gotta have lots of friends, for sure. Josuke’s lived here his whole damn life, in the same house, same street, same people. Everyone else has gotta know by now how cool Josuke is to be around.
He leans his cheek against the heel of his palm, feeling the sill groan in warning as he shifts forward more. If only he had the pure swagger that Josuke does. He’s just so effortlessly cool, with the chill way he walks and holds himself, and the way he dresses? Now, Okuyasu has his own brand of drip he’s pretty proud of (paying for custom embroidery is expensive, okay? He spent a lot of time on his uniform, and it looks damn good.), but his bro has that Western-style high fashion flair that just makes him look. So. Cool.
The wood lets out another despairing creak. He really wants to hang out with Josuke now. Josuke was an affectionate guy, really affectionate, and Okuyasu wasnt used to that at all. But he really doesn't mind, not when its his bro. An arm around his shoulders when Josuke leaned over him to see his homework, thighs pressed together as they ate lunch together on the baseball field. Okuyasu doesn't hate it, not at all, but he's never felt more undeserving of anything in his life. Fuck. Bad thoughts again.
CRACK!
The windowsill breaks in half when Okuyasu slams his forehead into it in another futile attempt to knock the negative thoughts out of his brain, and the whole wall blows out into a cloud of mildewed, termite-ridden organic dust. Fucking WHOOPS.
Okuyasu yelps as his body tumbles out of the new hole in his bedroom, and he summons The Hand to keep him from turning into spaghetti a la Nijimura on the porch below.
FUCK. Idiot! Did you forget what your stand does???
The Hand uses it’s… well, hand, to make a desperate grab for what’s left of the wall, and predictably, erases the goddamn floorboards. With no small amount of undignified shrieking, Okuyasu and The Hand keep gripping onto parts of the house and erasing whatever footholds they manage to grab onto.
Four seconds and seven additional holes in his already Swiss cheese lookin’ ass house later, he’s flat on his back in his dumpy little front yard. There’re spiky dandelion weeds digging into his back, and what feels and smells an awful lot like dog shit under his left calf. Goddamn dog owners.
Okuyasu stares up at the damage to his house. Well. He’d wanted to see Josuke anyways. At least he has an excuse now.