Chapter Text
Jotaro likes Morioh a lot. He does.
He thinks he’d like it better if he were on vacation and not working. Sure, the beach is nice, but he only goes when he gets a bit of free time from Stand user hunting, and even then he has to work, too. His dissertation won’t write itself, and unfortunately he can’t use Star Platinum’s speed to write it for him. He would know, he’d tried it. Turns out, Star can’t write, and he’d only ended up wasting about a hundred pages of perfectly good paper with unintelligible scribbling and doodles. Jotaro would deny it if asked, but he kept a few of the drawings for himself, hidden in his wallet between café receipts.
So, relaxing at the beach is out, because he only goes there to switch his brain from Speedwagon mode to PhD mode.
Not that Jotaro would know how to relax even if he had the time. And there’s hardly time to work on his thesis as it is.
It’s a point of pride that very little surprises Jotaro at this point in his life, after working for the Speedwagon Foundation since leaving college and Stand arrow hunting all over the world with Polnareff for a number of years. But when that bastard Angelo had said Dio’s fucking name and mentioned being shot by a mysterious arrow, Jotaro will admit he’d been sufficiently stunned. His purpose in Morioh was Josuke Higashikata, miles away from Egypt or Italy or anywhere Dio had ever been seen, let alone a Stand arrow. But of course, Jotaro has never been lucky enough for things to be simple.
So the Speedwagon Foundation had extended his trip to hunt the arrow down.
Whoever has their stupid, shitty little hands on it has been causing Jotaro all kinds of trouble. As if he doesn’t have enough of that already trying to deal with his young uncle and his friends. As if he doesn’t have enough trouble in every part of his fucking life.
Though, he will admit, it’s easier working with a team. Not that the Foundation doesn’t assist him in a lot of ways, but being out in the field is certainly easier with more feet on the ground. He’d never tell Josuke this, of course. It’d go straight to his pompadour. Still, he’s a good kid.
The other kids are helpful enough, in their own ways. Koichi is the only one among them with any sense, and frankly Jotaro just doesn’t quite respect the others like he does Koichi. He’d been Jotaro’s best consultant on the case so far, excluding, of course, when he’d been briefly blackmailed by an actual, adult man and then kidnapped by that girl. Jotaro swears to keep a closer eye on him after that particular encounter. Okuyasu has a good heart, even if he’s not particularly intellectually gifted. He reminds Jotaro a lot of a younger Polnareff, without all the womanizing and bathroom mishaps. He follows Josuke like a puppy from an abusive home, holding tight to any scrap of affection. Not that Josuke only gives him scraps. More like attempts to drown him in it. They’re sweet together.
Jotaro hopes they can figure that out sooner rather than later. For both of their sakes. Maybe he’s just projecting.
It had been difficult enough already trying to track down all the Stand users popping up when they weren’t actively going out to kill people, with the notable exception of Angelo. Most of them were dumb kids and petty adults, like Hazamada or Kobayashi, whom the kids had taken care of pretty quickly. Okuyasu’s older brother would have posed a much bigger issue, given that he actually attempted to murder Koichi, had he not died almost immediately. Jotaro has been meaning to check in on Okuyasu regarding his brother’s death. Sure, the guy was an abusive asshole, but he was the kid’s brother. It must’ve been hard to watch him die so brutally.
Fucking Chili Pepper. Jotaro’s biggest headache by far after Angelo.
The sea glitters past the port, past the long, sloping, grassy hills that Jotaro has placed between himself and anything with the capacity to hold an electrical charge. He ashes his cigarette and hums irritably when it lands on his shoe as he walks.
Chili Pepper poses an interesting problem for him. His abilities are formidable, certainly, but no match for Star Platinum in a fair fight. He’s more annoying than anything, given his ability to disappear in an instant into any powerline, and the fact that he moves in complete anonymity.
Hopefully the old man will be able to solve at least one of those problems.
Jotaro sighs and drops the cigarette to crush under his sole as he nears the three figures standing in the field where he’d told them to rendezvous.
“Yo, Mr. Jotaro!” Okuyasu’s gruff voice reaches him after the hum of his engine is silenced. Why he hadn’t turned it off before, Jotaro doesn’t know. He’s not wearing a helmet, but Jotaro doesn’t say anything about that. “What’s up? Why’re we so far from town?”
“We can’t risk being overheard,” he answers, gesturing towards the powerlines a few hundred yards away. Okuyasu stills looks confused for a moment before Josuke leans toward him to whisper in his ear, and a knowing look dawns on his face.
“Do you have news, Mr. Jotaro? Or intel for us?” asks Koichi, looking equal parts anxious and excited.
Jotaro looks to Josuke before he sighs. This is all happening too soon, but there’s nothing to be done about that now. “The Speedwagon Foundation is sending someone who can help us find Chili Pepper.”
“All right, finally!” Josuke whoops. “I’m so sick of that bastard, showing up in my damn house like some kind of psycho. Who are they? Someone badass? I bet it’s someone who can take on Chili Pepper no problem!”
Jotaro tries not to let that last bit sting before continuing. “His power allows him to track people. It’s sort of hard to explain, but he’ll be able to find Chili Pepper’s user for us so we can take him down ourselves.”
“Do you know him, Mr. Jotaro?” Koichi, sharp as ever, senses Jotaro’s hesitation and eyes him curiously.
He ducks under his hat for a moment. “I do. His name is Joseph Joestar. He’s my grandfather.” He lets the name hang in the air. Josuke’s eyes sharpen, but he gives no other outward indication of discomfort. Or of anything, really. The kid is strong, Jotaro has to give him that. “His ship is arriving at the Port of Morioh at noon, so we don’t have much time to intercept him. Sorry to drop this on you, Josuke.” He tries to sound sincere at that. “I called the Foundation after you called me last night. He’s coming with another Speedwagon agent for protection, but they wouldn’t tell me who it is. In any case, he’s not as young as he once was, so he’s basically a sitting duck if Chili Pepper finds out he’s coming. Chili Pepper’s only defense right now is that we don’t know who he is, so he’ll do anything to prevent us from finding that out. I don’t know how good the agent with him is, but I’m not taking any chances on the old man.”
A shrill voice suddenly echoes from within Okuyasu’s bike, before Jotaro can say anything, before Josuke has a chance to voice his thoughts, and a spark of yellow electricity appears in the engine, a spark that grows and morphs into the birdbrain himself, sitting astride Okuyasu’s motorcycle. “Thanks for the tip, Jotaro! I really appreciate it!” He kicks the bike to life and roars off down the hill, cackling. At his speed, there’s no chance catching up to him.
“Shit,” Jotaro mutters, making to go after him, but Okuyasu beats him to it, taking off after him with an unsuppressed look of rage. “Shit!” Jotaro follows after him with Koichi and Josuke in tow. This kid’s gonna get himself killed.
But damn, if he isn’t fast. Okuyasu summons The Hand and propels himself forward by reducing the space between himself and Chili Pepper until he’s simply upon him and the bike, a few hundred meters away from them, out for blood.
Jotaro doesn’t see much of what happens next, apart from Okuyasu beating the ever-loving shit out of Chili Pepper. The bike wrecks but Okuyasu lands on his feet, unscathed. Jotaro, Josuke, and Koichi keep running towards them, and when they start getting closer, he sees the look in Chili Pepper’s eyes and thinks they might actually beat him here and now, and the old man won’t have to do any work after all.
Jotaro’s always been punished for his optimism.
“Don’t get cocky!” he shouts down to the boy, while Josuke and Koichi shout down praises and whoops of admiration. “And don’t kill him! We need him to talk!”
When Okuyasu looks back up to him, there’s absolute murder in his eyes, and Jotaro only has time to think Ah, fuck before he turns back and takes a killing swipe down at a bleeding and trembling Chili Pepper, ripping up a chunk of earth with his ferocity.
A blinding flash of light sends them all reeling. When the stars clear from his eyes, Jotaro watches Chili Pepper, powered up beyond belief by the underground power lines, set his malevolent sights on Okuyasu, who had been knocked to the ground in the blast. Jotaro’s stomach sinks as he runs faster. They’re still too far away to be of any help. Even Star Platinum’s The World wouldn’t get him close enough at this distance.
Fuck, supplies his brain again helpfully.
Okuyasu’s scream rings out over the hills as Chili Pepper severs his right hand from his arm, sending it tumbling to the ground in a sickening spray of blood. Jotaro doesn’t even have time to feel his stomach knot before another flash of light blinds him. When he can see again, Okuyasu is gone, sucked into the powerlines and shredded and burned and dead. His hand lays in a blood-soaked patch of grass.
Jotaro is still running to him, to what’s left of him—what’s left of him. Fucking hell, he was just a kid. He’s in Egypt all over again, except this time he’s supposed to know what he’s doing, he’s supposed to protect these boys.
Koichi screams and that, oh, that sends a sick shard of hurt right through him. He can’t bring himself to look to Josuke, so he keeps running like a coward, running until they all reach the hole where he disappeared, and all that’s left of him, and only then does he look to his uncle.
Josuke’s face surprises him, calm and hard and sort of clinical. His eyes stare down at Okuyasu’s remaining limb like a scientist’s studying a particularly interesting specimen. Jotaro feels a healthy level of concern until he watches Josuke lean down and summon Crazy Diamond, reaching out his hand to touch one of Okuyasu’s fingers with a shining hand.
Josuke’s eyes don’t change while his Stand does its work, when the hand begins to glow and shift. They don’t change until Okuyasu returns, ripped from Chili Pepper’s grasp and suddenly whole again in front of them. Jotaro doesn’t take a breath of relief until he sees Okuyasu take his own breath. He watches Josuke’s eyes shift from serious to tearful in an instant, and his chest feels fractionally lighter then.
Okuyasu sprawls on the grass before them, breathing hard in his chest and staring up at the sky above them. His expression is unreadable, which is unusual for him.
“You okay, dude?” asks Josuke as he leans down to tug at his sleeve. A little smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.
“Fuck!” Okuyasu shouts to the sky. He covers his eyes with the heels of his hands and writhes on the ground for a moment. “I almost had him! I’m such an idiot!”
Koichi kneels down beside him tearfully, smiling. “You’re not an idiot, Oku.” He laughs.
Jotaro closes his eyes and condenses his feelings into a tight little ball in his chest where they belong. He doesn’t think about how Josuke was alive while they were in Cairo, and how he developed his Stand at that time, and how fucking useful he could’ve been. He doesn’t think about how different things could’ve been. How good they could’ve been. It’s not the kid’s fault for being part of this family. He doesn’t resent him for that, or any of it. If there’s one thing Jotaro’s learned to do over the years it’s not think about what could’ve happened.
“Glad to see you’re okay,” he says gruffly. The boys look up at him. In each of their expressions swim a number of things; waning fear, determination, admiration. Jotaro hates that last one. “Come on, Chili Pepper could be at the port by now. We need to go.”
Okuyasu stands and dusts himself off. Jotaro will check up on him later. Joseph’s life is still in danger.
They race to the Port of Morioh.
Josuke and Koichi protest when Jotaro loads himself and Okuyasu up on a speedboat, but quickly resign themselves to guarding the port in case Chili Pepper tries to attack them at sea.
The spray and salt peppering Jotaro’s face as they speed off ice down his burning nerves. He steals a glance at Okuyasu next to him. The boy’s face is what he can only describe as a best attempt at determined, though bleeding through are worry and frustration, in the crease of his brow and the draw of his lips. Jotaro recognizes them immediately.
He moves his eyes back to the distant horizon, looking for Joseph’s ship. “Are you okay?” he asks the ocean before him.
He doesn’t see Okuyasu glance at him, or the determined set of his jaw. “’Course I am.” His voice is curt, and dishonest.
“It’s okay to not be,” says Jotaro calmly. Okuyasu doesn’t need to see his eyes to know it’s true, he thinks as he views the distant skyline.
To his side, Okuyasu is quiet for a moment. The wind rushes past, carrying a sharp ocean spray with it. “But,” he says after a long silence, his voice carrying a question with its statement, “you’re always okay. You’re never scared.”
Jotaro smiles to the distance, and he finally sends a soft glance in the boy’s direction. His next words are honest, maybe the most honest he’s been in years. “I’m always scared, Okuyasu.”
Even over the rush in his ears, he hears the boy take a sharp breath. “I want to protect my friends,” he says, finally.
“I know. You will.” Jotaro turns to look in Oku’s eyes when he says it, all solemn and serious. Okuyasu’s eyes widen, before he nods, and turns back to the horizon that Jotaro is driving at.
The Speedwagon boat comes upon them sooner than either of them realizes. Jotaro circles the speedboat around in a wide circumference of the vessel before pulling alongside and instructing Okuyasu to hop over the railing and find Joseph to protect him. He plans to tether the boat to the back and climb aboard himself to ensure his safely after verifying that the perimeter is clear.
Not that he doesn’t trust the Speedwagon men, or the agent aboard the vessel. He just doesn’t necessarily think they’re qualified.
At least he thinks that, solidly, up until he feels the presence of the Stand user aboard, no doubt the agent that the Foundation had sent. Jotaro’s stomach flips into a knot at the familiarity of it. Star flutters behind his eyes with a sudden burst of unbridled, uncomplicated joy, confirming his suspicions. He takes a few extra laps around the boat. To be certain, he thinks. Just to be safe. A tingling nervousness buzzes in his fingertips.
Okuyasu appears again after a few revolutions, leaning over the side of the boat and waving down to Jotaro.
“Hey, Mr. Jotaro!” he calls down. “We found him! Chili Pepper’s user!”
“We?” Jotaro shouts back.
“Me and the new Foundation guy! He’s badass, Mr. Jotaro, he held him while I wailed on him, it was awesome!” Okuyasu’s smile is wide and excited, considering he just beat a man no doubt half to death. Jotaro can’t blame him for his enthusiasm when he’d lost his brother to the bastard. “The guy’s got a crazy powerful Stand.” He waves his arms in the air. “It’s like a weird green octopus!”
Jotaro’s stomach sinks down past the floor of the speedboat into the waves below. He thinks, with a dry sort of humor, that it belongs there. Some part of him had hoped that he’d made the wrong assumption, a cowardly part.
“Aren’t you coming up?” another question is tossed at him. The boy’s face is quizzical over the railing.
Jotaro swallows. “Since it’s handled, I’ll take the speedboat back to shore and meet you all at the port. Make sure the old man is comfortable,” he calls up, “and get to know the new Stand user!” To himself, he mutters, “Something tells me he’ll be around for a while.”
Okuyasu gives him a salute. “You got it, Mr. Jotaro!” And then he disappears back over the railing, and Jotaro tears off ahead of the vessel to lead them into port, dragging seawater behind him in an arcing spray.
Jotaro breathes in the salt and thinks. It’s been at least four years since the last time seeing him, the last time the old man had tried to patch things up for them, again. Polnareff hadn’t been able to come, what with his new secret Foundation mission. So, it was the three of them, with Joseph between them, loud and grating and doing his damndest to be a moderator between them. Failing spectacularly, as ever.
For all the good it did. Not that Jotaro blames him. He still hasn’t forgiven himself for what happened. He probably never will.
Jotaro sighs into the wind. The port is coming up on him much too soon, he thinks. Not that all the time in the world could prepare him for what’s to come.
Josuke and Koichi are waiting for him when he arrives, Josuke crouching low to the ground, looking bloodied but otherwise fine, Koichi waving to him as he approaches. He docks the speedboat where it had been and strolls to the boys. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, his hat pulled low over his eyes as he hears Traffic’s engines adjust to come into port.
Koichi’s eyes are alight when he nears them. “How’d it go?” he asks. “We got kind of worried when Otoishi disappeared!”
So that’s his name, thinks Jotaro. “Okuyasu and—” he pauses, “—the new Speedwagon agent took care of him quickly.”
Koichi turns to Josuke and gives him a firm high-five. “Alright!” he pumps his fist in the air and turns back to Jotaro. “That’s awesome! Is he on the boat right now?”
Jotaro nods.
Behind him, he hears the shouting of men bringing the vessel into port. The back of his neck itches when he hears the gangplank hit the ground. He watches Josuke and Koichi talk excitedly and glance up at the deck every so often. Josuke looks wary, but he puts on a brave face. Jotaro wishes he could’ve given him a little more time to prepare to meet Joseph, but things are what they are. All they can do now is work with what’s in front of them.
Hopefully he can take his own advice. He turns to the boat, schooling his face into neutrality.
Bowlegged and downright chipper, Okuyasu comes down first. He leaps at Josuke, who stands to greet him, and the three of them speak in quiet, excited tones for a few moments. No doubt they’re exchanging battle stories. It almost lightens Jotaro’s heart.
Next to descend is the old man himself. Even hunched as he is with age, he still stands tall, though he’s clearly not as young as he once was. His cane is held, snapped in two, in his hands. He waves down to him, and Jotaro sees it from a mile away before the old man trips at the bottom, but he’s still not the first one to catch him. To his surprise, Josuke is there to catch his father. He holds Joseph’s shoulders to keep the old man upright as his cane clatters to the ground. Jotaro watches them softly. They’re both… unsure. Refusing to look directly at one another but clasping onto one another like they’re grounding themselves to earth. It’s a good start, Jotaro thinks as they walk towards town.
Jotaro feels him at the top of the gangplank before he sees him, before he can bring himself to look up. And then he’s there, Noriaki Kakyoin, tall and slender and beautiful as ever and looking down his nose at Jotaro, directly at him, into him, as he’s always been able to do, wearing a stylish, simply tailored forest green suit. In his right hand is a cane, a dark, expensive looking wooden thing capped with a shining silver hilt inlaid with a green jewel, clasped in his slim, elegant hands. His other hand he holds behind his back to show the firm, square set of his shoulders. The soft curl of his hair frames his face the same in the front as it always has. His face is bracketed by a pair of dark, expensive looking sunglasses, which obscure his violet eyes and the scars, long faded now, just shadows, that cross over each of his lids. His mouth is curved up into a knowing smile that Jotaro can’t decide whether he likes or not. The curl in his gut is no help, nor is Star, who pulls hard to appear and embrace him, an urge that Jotaro swiftly suppresses.
Noriaki descends the gangplank with all the grace of a cat, as he does most things. It takes an eternity for him to reach the ground. The soles of his dark shoes click with purpose down the metal walkway.
He stops at the bottom and tips his glasses down his nose. His eyes are as beautiful as ever, and they send a soft flutter in Jotaro’s stomach, as they’ve done for years now. “Hello, Jotaro,” he smiles. His voice is musical and deep and fuck, it’s really been too long since Jotaro’s heard it. Up close, Jotaro sees that his hair has grown out, pulled into a loose, low ponytail and curling softly down his back.
Jotaro’s voice is thick and stupid in his throat, and it takes too long for him to answer. “Kakyoin,” he says, then winces.
He pretends not to notice the hurt that flashes in Noriaki’s eyes, for both of their sakes, before the man tips his glasses back up to cover them. “I didn’t realize we were suddenly so formal with each other,” he smirks. “Dr. Kujo.”
A strange feeling worms into him then, one he ignores, and he says, “Technically I’m not a doctor yet.”
Noriaki laughs softly. The sound of it is beautiful. “Of course, my mistake.” He turns to watch Joseph and Josuke walk slowly away. Jotaro doesn’t take his eyes off him as his smile shifts into something softer. “So that’s the kid?” Noriaki asks.
“Josuke Higashikata,” says Jotaro, turning to glance at them. The old man has looped his arm through Josuke’s. They walk in awkward silence.
Jotaro can feel Noriaki smirking at him. “So,” he prods, “he’s your uncle?”
Jotaro sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Please. Don’t start. I’ve had a long day.” Noriaki snorts at him.
From behind them, Okuyasu shouts. “Yo, Mr. Jotaro! You met the new guy!”
The men turn to see Okuyasu and Koichi coming up behind them. Noriaki holds out his hand to clasp the taller boy’s in a handshake. “Okuyasu Nijimura, right? You’ve got a great right hook.” Okuyasu grins wide and puffs out his chest. He really soaks up praise like a sponge. Noriaki turns to Koichi and holds out his hand, which he takes enthusiastically. “And your name?”
“Ko-Koichi Hirose!” There’s a bit of a nervous stutter in his voice. He looks up at Noriaki like he’s seeing a celebrity. “Okuyasu told me about your stand. It sounds r-really cool!”
Noriaki straightens up with an amused look back to Okuyasu. “Actually, Jotaro and I are—” he pauses, “—old colleagues.” Jotaro tries not to let it sting too much. He knows the boys don’t catch the thorn of ice in his voice when he says it. “We’ve known each other for some time. Joseph, too.”
If it were possible, stars light up in the boys’ eyes. “So that’s why your stand is so crazy powerful! Just like Star Platinum!”
Noriaki chuckles good-naturedly. “Sort of like Star, yes.”
“I wish I could’ve gotten to see the fight,” sighs Koichi wistfully looking up a Noriaki sheepishly. “Okuyasu said your Stand is like nothing we’ve ever seen.” Over his shoulder, Jotaro sees one of Hierophant’s tendrils, snakelike, glowing, emerald, creeping up behind Koichi. He knows if he were to glance over he’d see that telltale mischievous spark in Noriaki’s eye. The tendril taps Koichi on the shoulder. He whirls around to follow it, but it disappears, and he takes a full circle, glancing wildly around to find the disappearing green shadow.
Noriaki laughs then, all full and bright in his belly, as Hierophant phases into reality before them. He’s humanoid in this form, hovering between them. His appearance hasn’t changed much over the years, Jotaro notes, though he has no reservations about how deadly he’s no doubt become. His silver mask, chest piece, and codpiece all glint in the midday sunlight, layered over his shimmering green, wavelike skin. His yellow, buggish eyes observe first Okuyasu, then Koichi, then find Jotaro.
“This is Hierophant Green.”
He doesn’t have time to stop Star before he appears beside him, practically chomping at the bit to say hello to his friend. If he could whine like a puppy about it, Jotaro knows he would. Jotaro stubbornly keeps him as in check as he can, which, granted, is more than it used to be. Still, Star’s determination of sentience has always been what it is, and what it is, well, is annoying. So he holds Star back where he can, preventing him from flying and tackling Hierophant and making a fool of them both.
Hierophant stretches out a hand, which dissolves into a dozen or more twirling, intricate tendrils. He hears the boys gasp. Star reaches out one of his great gloved hands, bare affection plain on his purple face as a few tendrils loop around his fingers and wrist in way of greeting.
Jotaro shivers and the phantom touch.
“It’s like they’re friends!” whispers Koichi excitedly, watching them with rapt interest. Okuyasu only nods in agreement, mouth open, eyes wide.
Hierophant recalls his tendrils and forms them into a hand again. He stretches out the digits and gives Jotaro a wave before disappearing. Jotaro smiles at him before he goes.
Star gives Noriaki the same wave, and he smiles, too. “Hello, Star,” he says softly. Jotaro’s heart aches. He pulls Star back into himself.
Noriaki meets Jotaro’s eyes. There’s a world of unsaid things laying heavy on Jotaro’s shoulders.
A Foundation member walks briskly over to them. He salutes both Noriaki and Jotaro. “We’ve taken Akira Otoishi into custody,” he says. “You may question him at your leisure.”
Noriaki waves him off with a hand. “Yes, yes, that’s fine. Tomorrow, perhaps.”
“Yes, sir.”
The man hurries away, leaving them with the rest of the day. Too many hours, in Jotaro’s opinion.
And yes, he’ll admit, he’ll admit that Noriaki has gotten much better at hiding his discomfort and exhaustion over the years, much better than he used to be, when he’d push himself too hard to prove to Jotaro that he was fine until he collapsed in the middle of dinner. Back when they used to see one another more often.
But Jotaro is very good, too. And he does see the way that Noriaki’s eyes, even behind his sunglasses, crease at the corners suddenly, and his mouth takes a slight downward turn, and his hand tightens imperceptibly on the hilt of his cane.
Jotaro sighs. He turns to the boys. “Go make sure Josuke and the old man are okay,” he says. They both straighten up. Like soldiers receiving orders. Jotaro doesn’t like that image particularly well. “Tell Josuke to have him back to the hotel by dark. Preferably before. And to keep an eye on him. He tends to wander.”
“You got it, Mr. Jotaro!” Okuyasu nudges Koichi’s shoulder with his elbow.
Koichi bounces on the balls of his feet. “You can count on us!”
They race off, shoving at one another and laughing loudly as they go.
Jotaro returns his attention to Noriaki.
“Alone at last, hm?” Noriaki raises his eyebrows. “I know how much you love being alone with me.”
Jotaro rolls his eyes. It’s already starting. “Come on,” he sighs. “I’ll take you to the hotel.”
“A hotel!” Noriaki fans himself with his free hand. “Buy me a drink first, Kujo.” Nonetheless, he falls in step next to Jotaro, headed down the port, towards the beach, and beyond that the Morioh Grand Hotel.
“To get your own room, idiot.” He wishes he could actually insult him. To actually put some venom behind his words. He’s just tired, though. He suspects Noriaki is, too. “Unless you want to leave now that Otoishi is in custody.”
Noriaki straightens a crease in his coat, smoothing his hand down the front of his chest. “Afraid not,” he says. “I’m here to ensure the safety of Joseph Joestar. Or at least that’s what the Foundation told me.” He breathes deeply as a soft breeze comes in from the ocean. He’s quiet for another moment, gazing out over the waves with a distant look. When he speaks next, his voice carries no sarcasm, or bitterness. “You must like it out here,” there’s an ease with which he says it. For a breath, Jotaro can believe that they’re friends again. He so desperately wants that. Noriaki’s eyes stay locked on the horizon, glittering out over the blue and calm of the sea.
Jotaro follows his gaze thoughtfully. “I do, yeah,” he answers quietly.
They don’t speak again until they reach the Morioh Grand Hotel, where Jotaro helps him check into a nice suite on the same floor as him, and they bid each other farewell.
When he gets back to his own room, Jotaro rubs a hand over his face, waiting for the buzzing to cease in his fingers.