Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

MAJOR REWRITE IN PROGRESS! Please be patient!

"You are lukewarm and hate to be bothered to do much of anything, but are also dignified. You assert yourself easily, are thick-skinned, and have few worries. However, you are obstinate, contrarian, and hate to lose, often preventing it by aggressive means. You are overbearing and rebellious, but have the talent to back it up."

- Stand: Deep Purple. (7th Stand User)

The rolling tides crashed against the hull of a fishing boat that drifted across the sea. 

Lifting the coffin up out of the water, the same carvings it’s maintained for a hundred years, three letters, the material glimmering underneath the barnacles that had accumulated over time.

The coffin opens.

It has started once again.

KUJO JOTARO awoke in the holding cell.

The shudders and whimpering of the other cellmates is what woke him, as they clambered into the corner in a very Tetris-like manner. 

The teen sat up slowly, irritation etched into the lines of his face, and his brows furrowed at the distant scrape of shoes and batons against metal bars.

Could it be Joseph Joestar? His grandfather?

He cast a sharp glance at his cellmates. Cowardly bastards. Shivering day and night, whimpering over shadows. If they couldn’t handle sharing a cell with him, that was their problem, not his.

And for his grandfather to think he could just stroll in here, the thought was absurd. What could a (possibly senile) old man hope to achieve here?

… 

Hold on.

He doesn’t remember anyone mentioning his grandfather coming today.  In fact ..nothing about this situation even felt new. Everything was tinged with that same sick, familiar sense of déjà vu.

 …

Well shit. Maybe it was the evil spirit. 

He watched, half-aware, as an RC car traced lazy circles across the floor. A can of soda rolled and clunked against his shoe. His head throbbed. 

The evil spirit is dangerous. He is dangerous (even more than usual).

Time was short, he needed to deal with this before his family showed up. So, if this evil spirit wanted to keep giving premonitions of the future, then he was going to put them to use.

Good grief.

[ Skip Prologue? ]

=> YES 

==> NO

[ Loading... ]

This is Fine. (It’s Definitely Not): Prologue

YOU woke up. 

Odd already, really, waking up at this hour. The digital clock on your nightstand blinked, yet you didn’t care to read it. Your body screamed that it wasn’t time, that you should still be asleep and yet, here you were.

 You had planned just to sleep through the day. 

The world, yet, did not care for your plans.

 …

Man, you could already feel a headache coming on. You blinked lazily, lying in bed, pajamas wrinkling as you shifted. 

What had awoke you was a very odd dream, something going along the lines of a self proclaimed fortune teller, a “Muhammed Avdol”  asking you oddly specific questions

(Questions ranging from “Do you think that the ends justify the means?” to “Do you find yourself thinking ‘women are scary?!’”)

It was strange, unsettling.

But hey, you’re just gonna shrug it off. Roll over and sink back into the mattress. You had no idea what time it was and you already had prepared to wake up much, much later. A beautiful noon, hours after school even started.

Blissfully, you close your eyes again and begin to forget that dream.

“I hate to break the news to you, but that was no dream.” A voice cut through what was supposed to be the emptiness of your room.

Your eyes flew open and you jolted upright, heart pounding. Had someone broken in? Was this some kind of ghost or were you just hallucinating?

You scanned the room once. Then again.

…Nothing. No one was there.

Then you heard it again, a sound like a sigh as you whipped your head toward the source. Which was coming from your computer’s speakers.

…Wait. Did you download some kind of thingamajig? A virus? Were you hacked? You had just gotten this computer for your birthday too. The monitor glowed faintly, its idle screen humming as if it were breathing.

“The time to introduce myself has long passed,” the voice continues, oblivious to your distress, “But nonetheless, call me Steel. I’m the one who has granted you a Stand.”

You blinked once slowly. Thoroughly unimpressed. Your brow arched as the words from this supposed ‘Steel’ echoed in your head.

…

Your body leaned back toward the pillow on instinct, exhaustion completely replacing your previous fear. You assumed you’re still dreaming. That or hallucinating. 

Both options being relatively the same: this was not real and you were going back to sleep.

“Hey .. wait. Don’t go back to sleep.”

The computer’s speakers crackled slightly as ‘Steel’ continued, launching into a long explanation. He spoke of watching, of searching, of finding someone like you. (Words that would be ridiculously incriminating had this voice been a person standing in your room and not just a pair of computer speakers.)

A youth whose ‘will is strong enough to change destiny’.

Your eyes drifted to the ceiling as he went on, talking about fate, inevitability, and his desire to interfere with it. About how destiny could be altered—had to be altered—and how that was why he bestowed a ‘Stand’ upon you.

Whatever that meant. Your thoughts had derailed completely.

‘Steel’ fell silent, probably waiting for any kind of response from you. That made you snap out of your daydreaming, head lifting from the pillows you had been sinking into for the past couple of minutes.

...

“You sound a little too old to believe in fairy tales.” You swear you heard those speakers sigh again when you spoke.

The man’s whole spiel was painfully Chūnibyō. It might’ve been funny, keyword might’ve, if he didn’t sound so unmistakably middle-aged. Instead, it came off as the ramblings of a nerd. Or a creep. (Possibly both).

“If you don’t believe me, try calling out the name of your Stand from before. It will manifest right before your own eyes.”

“Geez.. I don’t wanna hang out with you.” You groaned. “If you leave now, I won’t call the police.“ You thought it was a fair offer. Reasonable. Generous, even.

It was completely ignored.

The man remained unbroken by your pleas to just go back to bed. The speakers crackled once more, the disembodied voice seeping back into the room as if it had never left.

"I promise everything will make itself clear if you just give it a try. Go on."

It was like your words went straight in one ear and out the other with this man. (Or, in this case, straight through one speaker and out the other?)

[ Refuse? ]

=>YES

==> Let’s get this over with.

You groaned. "Fine, if this gets you to leave.“

You really hope he’d stop possessing your computer. You really didn’t want to explain to your parents that a random grown ass man was talking to you through it. There’d be no version of that story that didn’t make you sound insane.

Against your better judgement, you push yourself out of bed and stand. You rub at your face, sighing.

What did the man in your dream say the name was?

Right…

“.. Deep Purple!”

.

..

…

Huh.

Nothing happened. Really.

You turned to the speakers again, sweeping your hands around your still Kinda Empty room, a silent “see?” gesture. A shit ton of nothing, no ‘Stand’ that he’d been talking your ear off about for who knows how long now.

“See, nothing happened.” Deep down, a part of you was even disappointed. “Are you satisfied now? If that’s all, then hurry up and go h–”

Suddenly, you felt a slight gust, and you blink again.

And- it was there.

[ Stand Name: Deep Purple ]

"Made of smoke, it can manipulate atmospheric density. It can poison the air around it, change the air pressure, and detonate hydrogen and oxygen particles. However, its range is extremely short. The smoke that composes the Stand flows out of the skull-faced jar in the center."

There, floating in front of you, was smoke. A man made of smoke that oozed from the skull jar in the center of what you assume is its body. Endlessly the smoke poured out.

It’s a miracle you didn’t outright scream, instead falling back and slamming into the floor with a THUD. The smoke man’s gaze only followed your movement, drifting along your form, almost expectantly.

"You see it, do you not?"

You could barely bring yourself to look away from Smokey over there, sputtering and frantically looking towards the computer for answers as to what the hell is currently floating in your room.

"In layman's terms, it's a superpower," ‘Steel’ begins, as if this was all a part of his agenda. "The apparition in front of you is an extension of your body, so to speak. Generally, each stand has one unique special ability, which can flout the laws of physics and defy imagination..."

He pauses, generously letting you process this information. You struggle to, and he only continues.

"Your stand shall surely become an indispensable ally."

If you weren’t wide awake already, you were now. The pain in your head and your body from hitting the floor was screaming to you that this was not a dream. 

That ‘Steel’ was real, and the cloud of smoke currently staring you down was also real. And it was supposed to be your ally?

"But… Why are you doing this?” You paused, pushing yourself up from cowering on the floor. “And what exactly are you?"

There was silence for a moment, long enough for you to think that ‘Steel’ had just left you alone with .. that thing. But the speakers crackle to life again.

"..I’m simply a remnant of a man who was killed by one of those stands.. Think of me like you would a prerecorded message."

You had been joking about him possessing your computer. But judging by how soft his voice had gotten, how sad? He was serious.

You were talking to a ghost, one who had been killed by Stand. And now you have a Stand. Gee, thanks man. You forced your voice not to tremble. "Then what the hell do you want with me?" 

The man is silent again. (You really wish he’d stop doing that.)

"...I want to change this world’s future," he finally says. "As a unit, you and I can do that.... No, we must do that, at any and all cost!"  

Here he goes again.

"You, with your newfound stand, must take out a certain person… That insidious vampire, DIO!”

…

What?

“What?” You try to ignore the fact he said ‘vampire’ (There was literally a floating smoke man staring at you still) , deciding to focus more on the fact that ‘Steel’ was saying you have to ‘take out’ someone.“You’re expecting me to murder someone?!”

 Who did this man think you were? A hitman? What was this, Golgo 13?

‘Steel’ does not notice your concern. That, or he does and is choosing to ignore you for the second time today.

"It will be dangerous... DIO has assassins everywhere! They don’t take well to those who defy him. As long as DIO lives, they will continue to hunt you down. Go with caution."

"Damn it, slow down!" You demanded, annoyed by the fact the man is ignoring you and assuming that you’ll go along with his assassination plan. "Are you asking me to risk my life? What makes you think I’m going to let myself get involved in something that dangerous?"

You stared into the monitor, your reflection staring back.

"...Haven’t you heard the phrase, ‘with great power comes great responsibility’? This is simply a consequence of the things you wished for. You wished for power… So I granted your wish. However, certain people feel threatened by those whose strength approaches their own."

“I can’t believe this.” You sighed, scrubbing both of your hands over your face. "You’re the one who did this to me, so shouldn’t your life be the one that’s on the line here?"

It’s already one thing for this man to possess your computer, give you some scary superpower that can murder people- but for him to just speak so calmly as if his word was law? It was pissing you off.

"I’ll say it one more time. You’re the one that wished for a stand, and you’re the one who called it forth. In fact, isn’t that why YOU are here?"

At that, you bristled.

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to. But I never wished for anything like-”

You cut yourself off, gesturing sharply toward your ‘Stand’, the word feeling foreign even as it left your thoughts.

“that.”

The ‘that’, Deep Purple, lingered anyway. Silent and far too close for comfort. It didn’t even move. Just existed, like it had every right to be there. It’s smoke curled around the confines of your room, pooling at your feet. You moved away wearily. 

"If DIO was left to his own devices, your friends and family will be at risk. Even if you weren’t aware of it, you knew you needed a ‘protector’."

You opened your mouth to continue arguing, that there was no way in hell that thing was any sort of ‘protector’, but ‘Steel’ only continued.

"This is your destiny, I’m just helping to move it along."

Right. Because you were born to kill a vampire with creepy spirit powers. Sure.

"Now, head to school, just like you would any other day.”

With that, the speakers clicked off, the sound as final as a gavel striking its block. Leaving you to collapse against your bed, no choice but to think on everything that just occurred. Stands, a vampire named DIO, ‘destiny’.

In short, it all sounded like a pain in the ass.

You dragged your gaze up from the floor, finally giving your Stand a good look. It was still looking at you, its blank expression somehow seeming expectant. Which is odd, given that its eyes were empty.

Thinking back to your dream, you recall what the fortune teller, ‘Avdol’, had told you about it. At first glance, it had wind, fire, ice, and other sorts of abilities. But on a further level, it could be so much more dangerous if you just put any knowledge from Chemistry to the test. You were already imagining the possibilities- and a lot of them ended up with some sort of explosion. Every danger alarm in your mind was going off all at once.

 The way ‘Steel’ just casually said it’s supposed to be an ally irked you deeply. This thing, Deep Purple, was beyond dangerous. Now, by extension, so were you.

As much as you wanted to believe that none of this was real and that you were still sleeping, this wasn’t something you could ignore. Not when it was staring you right in the face as if you were the odd one in this situation.

Whatever was waiting for you next, was sure as hell real too.

Against what could be your better judgement, you began to get ready for school.

Thankfully, you still had time to think about everything that had happened so far this morning, as school was still an hour or so off.

It doesn’t take long before you’re ready, heading out the door of your bedroom with newfound resolve—despite having no real idea what you’re meant to do, or what you’re supposed to be looking for.

“Wait!”

You pause, hand already on the door.

“Before you head to school, take that radio,” ‘Steel’ says. “I’ll be in contact with you through it.”

The radio he’s referring to is old and shitty, having just been sitting on your shelf collecting dust for who knows how long. You just sighed, shoving it into your deep pockets. 

At least you weren’t doing this totally alone, though you wonder how exactly useful ‘Steel’ could be in this state.

The front door clicked shut behind you, the sunlight greeting you much to your dismay.

(“…That insidious vampire, DIO!”)

Steel’s words echoed back in your head as you stepped outside and began your walk to school.. You had a couple of questions regarding that part of Steel’s whole explanation.

The first, and most obvious, concern was the whole vampire thing. Steel hadn’t gone into much detail there, but considering you’d just been granted literal superpowers, you were inclined to believe him.

Vampires existed. You learn something new everyday.

Which led you to your next concern, the whole having to take out a vampire part.

From what you could recall from movies, books, and way too much late-night media, the methods varied wildly. You’ve seen stories use garlic, a stake to the heart, silver, sunlight .. 

None of these options seemed rather appealing to you.  You had also seen that apparently if you threw a handful of rice that a vampire is supposed to stop and count each single grain.

Maybe you could carry a bag of rice around.

…

No.

That was the stupidest idea you’d had so far. And considering the morning you were having, that was saying something. 

And another thing, the supposed vampire’s name. DIO. Of course his name was DIO.

A vampire named God.

Cool. Sure. Makes perfect sense. If you were going to become an evil vampire, you supposed you’d want a dramatic name too. 

You adjusted your bag and kept walking.

It didn’t take long before you noticed it. People were staring.

Not everyone, most people were still just people. Walking, talking, minding their own business. 

But every now and then, you’d catch someone’s eyes lingering a little too long. A group of students leaned against a convenience store wall, the conversation dying the moment you passed.

Another kid across the street turned to look at you, frowned, and kept looking even after you met his gaze. You stared back, matching his frown with your own, before you just kept walking and picked up your pace.

Delinquents, you realized. What gave it away was the almost cartoonish pompadours and school uniforms. You could almost laugh at how stereotypical bully they were, but you were also getting a little concerned. They were everywhere. Too many for a coincidence.

You passed one group. Then another. By the time you were halfway to school, you had  gotten too many dirty looks for you to keep count of. You weren’t sure what you did to attract anyone’s attention, especially the aggressive kind.

You’re pretty sure they want to beat you up. The way some would pass by a little too close, as if waiting for an excuse just to pounce and rip you to shreds.

For what reason, you have zero clue. All you try do is just continue walking, just mind your business and get to sc–

THUD!

That was when someone slammed into you. Hard.

“The fuck?!”

 Just your luck, that someone being an impressively large delinquent. If you weren’t currently falling face first into cement, you’d question how a guy of his stature was even in high school.

You stumbled forward, instinctively throwing a hand out to catch yourself and the world lurched forward.

For a split second, it felt like something moved with you. Not your body. Something else, just out of reach. You swear you hear something whizz past your ear, 

The guy who’d bumped into you let out a sharp yelp and pitched sideways, feet tangling like the ground itself had betrayed him. He hit the pavement with a solid thud, earning a sympathetic “Oooo-” from you.

It felt like time stopped for a moment.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. You stared at him writhing on the ground, then at your hand, then back at him again. You didn’t touch him.

The delinquent scrambled up, peeling his face off the sidewalk which twisted in confusion and anger. “The hell was that?!” His eyes locked onto you, sharp and suspicious.

You didn’t wait for him to regain his bearings and possibly beat your ass, skirting past him and pushing forward. You broke into a hurried walk. Then a jog. Then something dangerously close to running.

You didn’t look back (You didn’t want to see if anyone else had noticed).

This has to be the worst morning you’ve had in some time

By the time you had gotten to the front gates of school, your heart rate had thankfully slowed down. You’ve almost convinced yourself nothing weird happened. Almost.

The gates loom ahead like they always do. Students filter in, laughing, arguing, alive in that loud, chaotic way that only high schoolers can be. If anyone notices you, they don’t say anything.

Good.

You slip inside and make a beeline for your locker. Given how little you’ve been to school recently, you’re grateful that you still remember your lock combination

You changed your shoes, closing your locker and resting your forehead against it for a moment. 

You made it, so now wh-

“Woah! Look who decided to show up.” You slowly turn your head,

Some guy, with raised brows and a genuine expression of surprise. “Haven’t seen you in forever,” he continues “Guess today’s just a weird day, huh?”

You should know who this is.

You absolutely do not.

So, to save your dignity and social face, you make it your current objective to make sure this guy does not realize you have zero clue who he is. 

“Haven’t seen you in forever,"  he says, dragging the word out. “You disappeared for, like, weeks.”

You straighten up and default to nonchalance “Yeah. Been busy.”

“Busy,” he repeats skeptically. “What, are you pulling a Kujo or something?”

You pause. “…What?”

He snorts, like something's funny. “Kujo vanished for a bit too, remember? Honestly, I was guessing the guy finally landed himself in the hospital, cause apparently he got into a big fight with a bunch of thugs. But he showed up today perfectly fine.”

Oh.

The guy he’s talking about, Kujo Jotaro, you’ve only seen the guy once or twice in passing. His reputation was already ominous and sorta threatening, but .. well. You really stayed away because his posse,

Honestly, you’d compare it more to a wolf pack. You aren’t necessarily scared, but every time you hear them in the distance, shrill cries of “Jojo!”, you shudder. A guy who walks around with his own personal fan club is either dangerously charismatic or just plain insane. Either way, with that all in mind, you steer clear.

“Thugs?” You repeated. Whoever this guy is nodded, adding “Yeah, he put like .. ten dudes in the hospital. The guy’s a menace.”

Alright, ten whole people sounds like a major over-exaggeration. You can’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. “That sounds kinda dramatic,"

The guy shrugs, “Yeah well, it is Kujo. Remember that one day he scared that new teacher so badly, he never came back?”

You do not remember that. 

You nod anyway. Very normal, very smooth.

“Yeah,” you say. “Wild.”

Wild?  That’s the best you can come up with? You’ve been doing pretty well acting like this conversation is natural, but that makes you mentally facepalm. Thankfully, the guy continues casually.

“The whole place feels kinda tense today, though. You notice that?”

You freeze for half a second because tense is sorta an understatement for you today. Especially when you think of the delinquent guy shoulder checking you and .. the whole landing on his face immediately after thing.

You force a shrug. “Probably just the Kujo thing.”

“Maybe,” he says. But he doesn’t sound too convinced. “Feels like people are just… waiting for something.”

That.

You don’t like that.

You manage a light laugh, fumbling with the lock on your locker, giving the dial a few lazy spins to the right and tugging it to make sure it’s properly locked, “Well, hopefully it’s not me.”

He chuckles, but it’s thin.

“Yeah. Hopefully.”

There was a pause.

“Anyway, I’ll see you in—”

“Yeah, I’ll see you in class,” you say automatically, breaking eye contact and just trying to get out of this conversation,

He blinks, raising an eyebrow.

“…We don’t have a class together?”

“Right.”

Fuck.

You leave before you ruin your social face any further.

You don’t look back. But you don’t run either. Running would be suspicious. No, no. You walk with purpose. Which is different. Completely different.

The hallway stretches ahead of you in one long, fluorescent-lit line.

On your left, near the windows, a guy is standing stiff as a board in front of a girl who’s staring with comically flushed cheeks.

“I’ve liked you since middle school,” he blurts, voice cracking.

(Gross.)

You keep walking.

A little further down, a male student is smacking the side of his Walkman like it personally offended him.

“It was working yesterday! Come on!”

He shakes it again. It does not miraculously fix itself.

You’re tempted to suggest turning it off and back on. Usually works with electronics, right? You decide to mind your business.

You keep walking.

A few lockers down, a delinquent is leaning against the wall beside a girl who looks deeply uncomfortable. He’s talking in that low, lazy tone of someone who thinks they’re charming.

She is staring at the floor, probably wishing that she could phase right through it. Can’t really blame her, the guy was the textbook definition of douchebag. Rolling a 500-yen piece over his knuckles as he talked.

You stare straight ahead. You are not equipped to intervene in whatever the hell that is.

The hallway noise practically buzzes around you. The earlier morning chatter of other students should prove as a comfort to you. That things were perfectly fine and that you were getting nervous for no reason. But you can’t get that stupid guy’s words out of your head.

Who just says that?! “Feels like people are just… waiting for something.”

It felt ominous. Far too ominous for whatever-the-hell-it-is in the morning.

Near one of the classroom doors, a girl is hunched over a notebook and a tray of glass vials that absolutely should not be in a hallway. She’s muttering under her breath, eyes sharp and unblinking.

One of the liquids gives a faint, unnatural bubble.

You slow.

The bubble pops. The liquid shifts color. Hell nah.

You know (way) more than enough about chemistry to confirm that’s bad.

Your stomach tightens. And because your brain is helpful, it chooses this exact moment to remind you that you now possess a supernatural ability capable of doing significantly worse than whatever that girl accidentally created.

You stare at the beaker.

Then, very slowly, you stare at your hands. All ten fingers are twitching involuntarily.

The liquid in the vial gives another subtle, concerning hiss.

You just take that as your cue, hands clenching as you start walking again, picking up your pace. 

Faster. Faster.

Okay, now you’re kind of running.

The bathroom sign comes into view and you’ve never been more grateful to see the little stick-figure silhouette in your life. You push the door open and slip inside.

Silence.

Not complete silence, there’s the faint buzz of fluorescent lights overhead and the now muffled sound of the hallway. But, by comparison, it’s peaceful. 

You step up to the sink and grip the edge of it, staring at your reflection.

You look fine.

Annoyingly fine.

Which is just unfair, because internally you felt like you were spiraling 

“What,” you mutter under your breath, “am I even supposed to be doing?”

You glance down, rubbing the nape of your neck as you sigh. Like, yeah. You heard what Steel said. Something about defeating a vampire… whatever…

That’s not exactly a step-by-step guide. No map. No directions. No helpful little arrow telling you where to go next. Not even a damn hint.

Just “go to school” and “fight a vampire.”

He did tell you to take the radio. Said you could contact him with it.

You set your bag down on the sink and unzip it, starting to dig through. 

You have: one (1) pencil, a slightly dented can of Dora Cola, and somehow still can’t find what you’re looking for

You dig deeper anyway, practically elbow deep in your bag.

Behind you, a muffled sound.

You pause, listening.

Another one.

A voice. Low. Irritated. “…I said give it here.”

You slowly lift your head. Your eyes flick up to the mirror and freeze.

Standing directly behind you, a thick cloud of purple smoke, a skull-faced jar and an actual face staring at you expectantly.

Your Stand. It wasn’t there a second ago.

You do not react, externally. Internally, you almost lose your damn mind.

“…Cool,” you whisper, barely moving your lips. “Good timing.”

It doesn’t respond. It stands… floats there. Looming.

From the stalls, a sharper noise this time. Something hitting the tile. “C’mon, don’t be like that,” another voice says, lighter and mocking.

Oh.

Oh no.

You stay still for a second.

Because this is not your problem. You have enough problems.

You have a vampire problem. That outranks whatever is happening in that stall by a significant margin. …Probably.

Another sound. Sharper this time. A scuffle. Something being shoved, a quiet wince. You exhale quietly through your nose.

Just a quick look.

You turn slightly, careful, like sudden movements might make the situation worse somehow. Your steps are quiet as you edge closer to the stalls.

Deep Purple follows. Of course it does. You try very hard not to think about that.

The door to the larger stall is cracked open just enough.

You hesitate. This is where you could stop.

Turn around. Leave. Go to class. Pretend none of this is happening. Because again, not your problem. You really hate to be bothered to do much of anything.

…

You lean in slightly, just enough to peer through the gap.

Inside, there are two of them.

One has another student pinned awkwardly against the wall, hand fisted in the poor guy's collar. The other stands off to the side, watching, a lazy, amused expression you’ve already decided you hate.

The one being held looks up.

And makes DIRECT eye contact with you.

Oh, that’s bad.

Very bad. Because now you’ve been seen. There’s a brief pause.

The poor guy being pinned against the wall stares at you with wide, desperate eyes.

The one holding the other student turns his head, following his gaze.

“…What are you looking at?”

You straighten slightly, still half-hidden by the stall door. “…Nothing,” 

The second guy snorts. “Then why’re you standing there?”

You don’t answer that. Because, honestly, fair. The student being held shifts, still looking at you. There’s something there, expectation. Hope.

You glance away.

This is where you leave. This is not your problem.

“…I was just leaving,” you say, taking a small step back.

“Yeah?” the first guy replies, grip tightening just a little. “Then go.”

That sounds reasonable. You should go. You fully intend to go.

…

You don’t.

Your eyes flick, just for a second, to the faint, unmoving shape of Deep Purple behind you. You can feel its presence, another spectator to this scene.

There’s that.

You look back. You can literally see the student-being-held’s eyes light up when you look back. You exhale through your nose.

“…Can you not,” you say, tone flat.

The two guys, bullies, look at you. The second one leaning against the wall raises an eyebrow in your direction. “Not what?”  he asks.

You gesture vaguely. “That.”

He blinks. “That’s not very specific.” 

You nod. “Yeah, I’m aware.”

There’s a pause. This is already going worse than you planned. Which is impressive, because you didn’t have a plan in the first place.

The first guy scoffs. “Mind your business.”

You should. You really should.

…

“Yeah,” you say. “Probably should”

And this time, you actually move. One step back. Then another. You’re leaving. For real. This is you making a good, responsible decision for once in your life.

You turn slightly, already half out of the–

“Wait!?”  The student against the wall calls.

You stop, because of course you do. You close your eyes for a second. Behind you, one of the bullies lets out a sharp, annoyed breath. 

“—Please,” the student says, voice strained. “Just— help me-”

You sigh. Long. Deep. Tired. You tilt your head back slightly, staring at the ceiling like it could solve all your problems, including the vampire thing.

A large part of you simply just wanted to walk out the bathroom and continue on with your vampire hunt. 

But a small part of you is telling you to do something. Maybe it’s your sense of justice, that you have a big heart, or maybe simply because you can’t stand these guys' faces anymore. Probably that last one. Yeah

You turn back around.  “…You guys are really making this my problem,” you mutter, more to yourself than anything.

The one holding him scoffs. “Oh, so you wanna make this your problem?”

“No,” you say honestly.

A beat. You watch as both of the bullies, even the damn guy getting bullied look at you confused for a moment.

You take a single, careful step forward. Now you’re committed. Shoulders squared, fists tight. “…Really don’t want to do this,” you mutter.

The first bully sneers, still holding the poor guy against the wall. “You're actually gonna step in, huh?”

“…Yeah,” you say flatly, stepping forward.

Behind you, Deep Purple hovers in its usual ominous cloud of smoke. You ignore it. Absolutely ignoring it. Not touching it. Not using it. Not even thinking about it. You are not using your sentient hydrogen bomb.

The second guy lunges at you. Miraculously you move out of his way, twisting his arm enough to make him stumble into the wall. He grunts. Not enough.

The first bully swings at you, having released the other student.. You duck, then throw a half-hearted jab that somehow connects with his jaw. He stumbles, but not down.

He swings again. You try to block, but it’s sloppy. A fist clips your cheek. Hot, sharp pain. It’s almost invigorating.

You manage to land a solid punch to the first guy’s stomach. He grunts, hunching over. The second one comes at you again. You weave and throw another hit. Both are staggering now, bruised and even bleeding.

Deep Purple drifts silently behind you, unmoving. Maybe it’s judging. Maybe it’s silently yelling, Use me, you idiot. You do not care. Not doing it buddy.

Finally, after a few more blows, the two bullies collapse to the floor, groaning and defeated. The previously pinned student stares at you in awe.

“Thank you sooo muuuuu—uh, your…eye,” he finally manages, voice shaky.

You step out of the stall, going to look at yourself in the mirror. The student was right. A big, angry, black-and-blue blossom had started to form along your cheekline.

“…Yeesh.” You prod it with your fingers.

“You should… uh… go to the nurse,” he adds, pointing vaguely at your face.

“Right,” you mutter, hands falling to your sides. “Okay.”

You grab the pocket change he drops in your hand—a measly couple 5 yen coins—and pocket it. Because sure, why not?  Might as well take an award for miraculously not getting your ass thrashed.

After a couple more thank yous from the student- you leave the bathroom and start walking, hands in your pockets, moving down the hallway toward the nurse’s office. 

The pain in your face makes it easier to ignore the clammer of other students.

A small part of your ego is slightly bruised, like your face. Somewhere behind you, Deep Purple drifts silently, smoke curling lazily, probably judging you for doing everything yourself.


Which makes you roll your eyes. You can handle yourself, thank you very little. You swat at Deep Purple, and to your surprise, that gets it to disappear. Thank god.

…

The nurse’s office comes into sight. You adjust your bag, sighing in relief. At least you can catch a bit of a break, maybe just lay in one of the beds and think up some sort of plan. Perhaps a nap?


You can’t just walk around, getting in random fights, can you? You gotta make some sort of game plan, and maybe you could actually contact ‘Steel’ this time and ask him what to do.

Before you can contemplate that any further, you stop outside your destination

You swing open the nurse’s office door, and immediately regret every life choice that led to this moment. A horrific scene lies before you.

The nurse, who’s usually bubbly, painfully cheerful (the kind of person who could make watching paint dry fun) is flailing around like she’s mid-seizure, growling like some sort of animal.

Foam dribbles at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes rolled back. She’s swinging a pen around. Two guys burst out of the room, sprinting, one clutching their right eye, which is bleeding in a way that looks way too real.

And no, that isn’t the horrifying part. None of that is.

Your eyes travel further inside.

The well-built boy stands there, red hair, sharp eyes that seem cruel. A white scarf wrapped around his neck, and he’s glaring straight at you. In his pale, slender fingers: a puppet jerking violently with his control.

Then there’s the other guy. 

Tan skin, menacing, and currently wrestling the nurse who kinda seems like she’s winning. You’ve heard the rumors. You remember what that guy from earlier said.

“Yeah, apparently he put like .. ten dudes in the hospital. The guy’s a menace.”

You can almost believe that now. Of course, you know exactly who he is.

Kujo Jotaro. 

The infamous, feared, seemingly unkillable delinquent,

You wish you did not just swat your stand away. For the first time today, you wish it was here.

And then it happens. This is what was horrifying. What made your face contort in disgust and revulsion. Kujo loosens his grip on the nurse’s head, leans in, and… crashes their lips together.

That sick, wet squelch of a kiss makes your stomach knot. You’re pretty sure the guy with the scarf just cringed as hard as you.

Kujo Jotaro is making out with the school nurse.

You knew he had his fangirl club and all- but you didn’t expect him to expand his reach to school faculty?! What the hell!

Your eyes dart around, stomach twisting. 

There’s the squelching sound, the puppet jerking violently in the redhead’s hands, and Kujo still going at it with the nurse.

There is WAY too much going on right now. You can feel every fiber of your being screaming get out get out get out, but your feet stay glued in place.

Luckily, you don’t have to watch Kujo and the nurse make out anymore, because his head whips back.

Something gets pulled out of the nurse’s mouth with his teeth.

Whatever it is (almost melon looking) is all slimy and green. With these yellow almost bug-like eyes, it takes a more humanoid shape now that it was pulled out into the open.

You stumble back, bag sliding off your shoulder and falling onto the ground

Kujo snarls, releasing the grip his teeth had on the melon man, only for-

Something wild, muscular, and most importantly purple appeared from Kujo. It pulls the melon man out further, gripping it by its head.

 You hear a slight crunch, followed by a gasp from redhead.

“You’re—” he grunts, breathing heavily. “Going to regret pulling that out of her, Jojo.”

The nickname rings out, thick with malice, anger… and unmistakable pain.

“Kakyoin, this’ your stand?” Kujo scowled. The purple man’s grip on the melon man tightened as he spoke. “It’s all green and stripped. Looks like a shiny melon.”

Was now the best time to point that out? Before you could process-

SLAM!

The windows behind the redhead- Kakyoin, as Kujo had mentioned, slammed shut. You weren’t even able to flinch before another sound, a sort of crystallized high pitched blast rings out through the infirmary.

Kakyoin laughs.

And suddenly, Kujo is thrown across the room like he weighed nothing, a loud crash as furniture badly breaks his fall. The nurse, who had been seizing just seconds ago, drops to the floor in a puddle of her own blood.

“I told you,” the boy smiles. “Attack my Hierophant Green… And you’ll be hurting her, too.”

You can’t rip your eyes away now, watching as the nurse twitches on the floor. Something in your chest feels heavy.

That has to be the work of his Stand as well. ‘Hierophant Green’, as he said.

“My Stand can reach further than yours… But it hates open spaces, and prefers to hide.” Kakyoin sounds almost gleeful, pointing a single finger at Kujo. “If you try to drag it out, it gets angry.”

He glances at the nurse for a moment, expression unreadable, before he looks back to Kujo on the ground. 

“It’ll claw on the inside and latch on! You pulled it out and that’s why she’s injured!”

The way he speaks is scary, so detached to what he’s doing- yet clearly taking a glee from it. You try to put your legs into motion. Yet they refuse to move. 

“This is all your fault! You did this to her, Jojo!” the boy shouts.

You can’t fight this guy! 

He just sent THE Kujo Jotaro across the room and is now yelling. What the hell are you supposed to do against this guy? 

“----!”

You hear something.

Ripping your eyes away from this scene, you look to where you hear something. You quickly crouched down, ripping open your bag. The radio is somehow on, and ‘Steel’s voice booms from its speakers. 

“-way!”

“What?” You hiss, shaking the radio to repeat himself. 

“I said- It’s your turn!” Steel’s voice blares. “He’s one of those people I told you about… One sent to erase those who stand in DIO’s way!”

You glance at the chaos, the radio clutched like a lifeline. Your fingers fumble with the knob.

“Are you out of your literal mind?” you hiss, voice low, almost shaking.

The radio crackles back immediately. “I told you, this is your destiny.”

“…Destiny? You’re seriously telling me my destiny is standing here watching him mangle the nurse and Kujo?!”

“It is your destiny,” he just repeats, no hesitation, just stating it like a fact.

“…You chose me to risk my damn life!” you whisper, the panic creeping in despite your attempt at composure. “I know you’re dead or whatever, but that doesn’t mean I want to be too!”

You should have just stayed in bed, just gone right back to sleep. You shouldn’t have entertained Steel, shouldn’t have gone to school, and you shouldn’t keep standing here.  You almost got whooped this morning once already, but surely if you were to fight this guy- you’d die.

“You there.” 

His voice cuts through the chaos, low and deliberate. The marionette clanks in his hands as he points at you. You shiver.

“Looks like you’ve seen what my Hierophant Green can do. Are you a Stand user too?” His voice is casual, almost playful. “I don’t know who you are, but make any false moves, and you’ll end up just like those two…”

That was a threat, as clear as day. You had zero part in this, and it sounds like Kakyoin was not going to fight you as long as you did not intervene.

You’d be stupid not to take this chance and run. Anyone in your situation would!

To hell with the phrase “with great power comes great responsibility”. So what if you had powers, had a ‘Stand’? No one, not even Kujo who may or may not be concussed on the floor, should expect you to suddenly be a hero,

Sorry, you weren’t cut out for it. Good luck, Kujo!

You watch as the guy in question slowly gets back up.

..

“I, Kujo Jotaro, am often called a delinquent.”

“When I get in a fight, I pummel the other guy until he bleeds. I’ve even put people in the hospital…”

“Standing up again? You’re like a sandbag to a boxer, getting up just to be hit again.”

You swallow, watching blood fall onto the tile of the nurse's office, from Kujo’s wounds. Yet he takes a step.

“I’ve given half-assed teachers, who were all talk, a scare so bad they never show up again.”

Another step.

“And when I don’t like the food at a restaurant, I make it a policy to stiff them on the bill.”

The scrape of his shoe against the tile makes you flinch. He’s standing there, collected, yet terrifying with fists clenched. Then the words hit you.

“But even someone like me… knows nauseating evil when I see it!” His eyes are fierce.

“Evil is crushing the weak under your heel, using them for your own gain… even innocent women! And that is you!”

He’s right. Kujo is so right that it makes your stomach tighten and fists clench. A fire being lit in your heart that you can’t quite put out now. You wouldn’t expect a guy like him to be so righteous, nor for you to be affected by it.

“You and your Stand get to hide from the victim, the law, and the consequences! That’s why…”

Kujo runs a finger along the brim of his hat, adjusting it with a sharp, deliberate motion. A loud yell follows.

“I will be your judge!”

…

 
“I’m evil?” 

The puppet in Kakyoin’s control tilts its head, rubbing its wooden chin like it’s genuinely pondering the question. You’d be impressed if it weren’t terrifying. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Evil is always the loser, it’s the victor who has justice.”

His stand, Hierophant Green, seemed to coil for another attack. His words are awfully Machiavellian, which only serves to scare you further.

“The victor… is the last man standing! And how you win in battle… is irrelevant!”

Your heart hammers. There was no room for hesitation, despite how nervous you were. Stands were dangerous. Other ones, and especially your own. But if you wimped out now, who knows what could happen?

A scowl grows sharper on Kujo’s face as he stares Kakyoin down.  “Did you say … the loser is the evil one?”

“In that case … you’re definitely the evil one!”

You’d rather not see Kujo, or anyone else, in a pool of their own blood just like the nurse. Be it a sense of justice, good heart, or just because you were sick of Kakyoin’s nonsense.

It’s not an option anymore.

[ Join the Fight? ] 

==>YES

=> NO

You have to do something.

“God dammit.” You mutter under your breath as you step through the door frame. No backing down now. You really had to commit. 

Deep Purple appears behind you, as if it had been waiting.

For a split moment, you wonder if it had been. And maybe you’re finally a bit grateful for its appearance. 

You step into the room, appearing next to Kujo.

“My Stand-” 

“My Stand!”

“Shall be your judge!”

[ Kakyoin Noriaki wants to fight! ]

[ Stand Name: Hierophant Green ]

“Long-range. It doesn’t need to be close to attack. Its body can stretch out, unraveling into thin, thread-like tendrils that move fast and unpredictably. It can control people, hiding inside and attacking from within. Precise, but dangerous at a distance. The further it goes, the weaker it probably gets… but not by enough to matter right now."

You have no time to dwell on the fact that you and Kujo just yelled in complete unison.

Your sudden entrance pulls both of their attention.

Kujo stays stoic, but there’s something there. Confusion, maybe irritation. Probably both. You don’t blame him, your presence could either make this better, or far, far, worse.

Kakyoin, on the other hand, looks pissed.

“You…” His nose wrinkles, expression twisting into a scowl. “So you won’t be heeding my warning.”

A pause. Then, like this was all a mere inconvenience-

“Fine. You can die along with him, fool.”

You don’t get another warning.

Hierophant Green moves.

It launches forward, its body snapping apart into thin, whipping tendrils that cut through the air with a sharp, slicing hiss.

You jerk to the side on instinct, something whipping past your face hard enough that you feel the air split. The tile behind you cracks with a sharp crack. Right. Fast. Ridiculously long range, as you’ve seen.

“Deep Purple!”

Your Stand surges forward behind you, that thick, unnatural smoke spilling out, curling into the space between you and the attack. The tendrils hit it.. Or rather phase through it. 

As if moving through jelly. Something heavier than air.

Your brain clicks. Air. Density.

Oh.

You shove your hand forward. Deep Purple responds instantly, the smoke thickening, compressing.  

You don’t know your abilities, nor your limitations. You don’t want to risk accidentally hurting everyone, not just Kakyoin. 

But you can work with this. The air in front of you tightens.

Hierophant Green’s tendrils jerk, their movement stuttering just enough—

“Now!”

You don’t even realize you said it until Kujo moves. He’s there in a second, fist pulling back with zero hesitation, like fear just doesn’t apply to him.

“ORA!”

The punch connects. Not with Kakyoin, but with the space in front of him. Something hits hard.

Hierophant Green snaps back, recoiling, its body pulling together just enough for you to see it distort from the impact.

Kakyoin’s expression cracks for a second, an undeniable pain in his voice. “You—”

He steps back, hand tightening around the puppet. His stand’s tendrils lash out again: this time wider, faster, and definitely angrier.

They aim for everything in sight, not just you or Kujo.

A cabinet behind you explodes open as something slices through it. Glass vials shatter against the wall, liquid splashing across the tile with a sharp chemical sting. The overhead light flickers as a tendril whips past it. The room feels like it’s getting smaller. More dangerous.

Maybe it’s because you’re trying to dodge for your life, but in the corner of your eye you swear you see Kujo jumping off the walls. 

He kicks a chair towards Kakyoin, yet Hierophant’s tendrils catch it in flight, crushing it like a can. Kujo slides off to the side, and Kakyoin’s attention flicks to him.

He scowls, tendrils shooting out and wrapping around Kujo’s body and holding him in place.

Your fingers twitch. The smoke coils and condenses around your outstretched hands. Trying to get the jump on him whilst he’s distracted with Kujo.

Air Bullet.  You thrust forward. The compressed air snaps outward with a loud, invisible crack, freeing Kujo.

It jerks back violently, hissing as the tip slams into the dense air barrier. Kakyoin’s face flickers with frustration, looking back at you

Not giving him a chance to regroup, you pull your hands back and twist, creating a small vacuum in front of you. The sudden drop in pressure yanks at Hierophant Green’s threads, bending them off course and pulling them towards you.

He snarls, the puppet jerking violently in his hands

“Interfering with the air?” he murmurs. “Impressive. But it won’t save you.”

Then Kakyoin smiles.

Small. Certain.

One moment, you had Hierophant Green almost in your grasp, so Kujo can pummel it. You were about to correct Kakyoin, that your stand was much more than just controlling air- but..

The next moment you felt something behind you. You whip around, but it’s too late.

Something green, slimy, and cold starts to slip into your eardrum. Your body jerks.

“…What—”

Your arm lifts. You didn’t tell it to. Your fingers twitch, curling in on themselves like they belong to someone else.

“Like I said,” Kakyoin’s voice is calm, almost gentle. Yet undeniably, he was mocking you. “My stand prefers to hide.”

Your other hand snaps up, grabbing your own wrist, forcing it down before it can fully turn on you. Your muscles strain, fighting yourself, your body trembling under the pressure.

“…Get—out!”

Your leg shifts next. Then your shoulder. He’s not fully in control, but he’s getting there. Thread by thread. You can feel Hierophant Green wriggling around, the sensation almost enough to make you scream.

You felt your heart skip a beat, panic immediately building inside you. Deep Purple almost seemed like it was going hay wire.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck

You’re starting to seize.

—and then something grabs you. A large hand grabbing you by the shoulders, holding you still as your body violently shakes. You don’t know if it’s your body resisting or Hierophant Green trying to force you to comply.

Kujo.

He’s right there. You didn’t even see him move. He’s holding you still, gaze intensely fixed on your face. His stand is behind him. You can get a better look at it now, with its purple skin, wild long black hair and a gaze almost just like its user.

Before you could say anything, his stand moved faster than you could register.

One hand grips your chin, turning your head to the side, the other hand shooting and grasping onto the last tendril diving into your ear drum.

Your vision swims. The tendril writhes in your ear, sharp and insistent, sending a jolt of panic through your skull. You can feel it burrowing, probing, trying to break free from Kujo’s grasp and get inside you.

Kujo’s hands, steady, keeps you in place. 

“Hold still,” he growls, and there’s no room to argue.

Without further warning, Star Platinum pulls on the tendril.

(Did he just disregard what happened last time he tried this with the nurse? She was literally still on the floor!)

Pain explodes. The tendril screams against Star Platinum’s grip, writhing and trying to cling onto you.. Your skull vibrates, and you thrash around.

Kujo doesn’t flinch. He just keeps you pinned, steady, while Star Platinum yanks with impossible force. The tendril snaps free in one more violent motion.

You stumble, chest heaving, hand clawing at your ear. 

Kakyoin’s eyes widen, realizing too late that his tendrils are useless. Star Platinum doesn’t let go, Kujo releasing his hold on you to face the other boy.

“Impossible!” Kakyoin cries.

With a sudden, precise motion, Star Platinum yanks Hierophant Green closer, pulling him off balance. The stand’s tendrils flail uselessly.

Kujo, Star Platinum doesn’t hesitate. Wildly, it shakes the other stand by the neck, like a chicken getting its neck snapped. You watch, slumped against the wall, hand over your ear.

Star Platinum reels one fist back, starting to pummel him in the face over and over again. It throws Hierophant Green up, one final punch sending both the stand and it’s user flying across the room, slamming into the wall with a loud crash.

Within moments, Kakyoin slumps, defeated. Hierophant Green vanishes back into him with a faint ripple.

You truly thought the other boy was dead, but a quiet groan and twitch of his body confirms he was still alive. 

You’re sure the whole school just heard the commotion. The distant far off sounds of panic catches your attention. You’re sure it catches Kujo’s attention too.

Star Platinum fades behind him, coiling back into nothingness, leaving only Kujo standing silent for a moment.

“Tch.” 

You watch as he fixes his hat again, his back towards you as he stares at Kakyoin’s limp body.

“...What a waste of time, and my shoulder got busted up too.” He murmurs. “Good thing his stand wasn’t much, though I think I might be getting more violent.”

More violent? Like that wasn’t enough?!

 He quite literally just shook Kakyoin’s stand around like a rag doll and almost sent him through the wall. The idea that Kujo could get any more violent then that was both concerning.

You hold your breath when he turns toward you. You push yourself up straight, rubbing at your ear still tenderly. Hopefully, you look somewhat bad ass.

(You do not.)

“I was in a real bind there.” He’s speaking to you now.

Should you say ‘No problem’? Or something…?

“But, you… you have a stand?” Kujo looks a bit suspicious now, a subtle raise of one of his dark brows. “You don’t exactly fit the part, but … you aren’t one of DIO’s lackey’s, are you?”

It’s that name again. DIO. With all the life or death commotion, you almost forgot the whole reason you got pulled into this in the first place. Your goal.

[ “…You aren’t one of DIO’s lackey’s, are you?” ] 

==>YES

=> NO

You nod.

“Yep.” You answer. “Sure am.”

You had braced yourself, fully expecting a fist to your face.

Kujo tilts his hat down slightly, and a corner of his mouth quirks into… a smile.

He’s smiling.

For a second, you think of his fanclub, all those girls obsessing over him from afar. If they knew you, some random nobody, had just earned a smile from him, they’d probably hunt you down. Or worse.

“A comedian, eh?” He shakes his head, “Good grief… you’d have attacked me while Kakyoin here was going at it, or just watched.”

You snort, quiet and unsteady, because honestly… The question itself is ridiculous. 

Kujo kneels beside the boy, muttering something about the nurse being okay—not dead, thankfully. Yeah, maybe you overreacted earlier. 

Then, almost casually, he hoists him over his shoulder. Just moments ago, this guy had been trying to kill both of you. Sunlight slices through the broken window, catching his face in sharp angles.

Unconscious, his face almost seemed gentle. It’s hard to believe with a face like that he was seriously out to kill Kujo- and you by extension.

This DIO guy was a serious sicko. No doubt about it.

“Well, this is annoying”

“Guess I’ll have to skip another day… good grief”  Kujo shifts his gaze to you, jerking his chin to the windows casually. “You should come with. I should take you to Gramps."

You just nod.

For a couple reasons, actually. 

The first being that the entire nurse’s office was destroyed and you could faintly hear people coming to investigate. The second being that this was your first real lead on the whole DIO thing. And the third being…  you weren’t sure if you’d end up on Kujo’s other shoulder if you declined. 

Besides, you were starting to believe Steel’s words.

With this being your destiny and all.

You shake yourself out of the spiral and follow Kujo, carefully stepping over shards of glass as he climbs out the infirmary window.

The first thing you learned about Kujo that isn’t related to violence is simple.

This guy is rich.

You stared at Kujo’s estate, a spacious manor in traditional Japanese style. The pond at the front rippled as the Sōzu filled and clunked down, a quiet reminder of the time here.

Kujo just trudged inside the place, lazily kicking off his shoes at the foyer as he continued to balance Kakyoin on his shoulder. You follow him inside, peering past his broad shoulders further into the house.

It’s as nice as the outside, shoji-style doors and several Japanese wall art scrolls. Which makes you wonder how a guy like Kujo even lives here. 

“Oh!”

You hear a voice coming down the hall. A woman’s voice. 

“Just now … Jotaro was thinking about me at school!” 

The voice comes around the corner, revealing a woman. She’s blonde, her eyes shut with hands grasped together. She seemed to be talking aloud.  “I felt it! It’s the bond between mother and son.”

“I wasn’t thinking about you.”

Oh.

You stand behind Kujo, immediately looking down to your feet as you start to take your shoes off. So this woman was his mother. 

… This feels like something you were not supposed to be seeing, yet here you were. Awkward. Kakyoin even seems to agree, as he stirs on Kujo’s shoulder, a quiet groan escaping his lips. 

The woman, Kujo Holly you would later learn, lets out soft gasp when she sees Kakyoin hanging off her son’s shoulder like some sort of dead fish. Her hands twitch, starting to reach out.

“Jotaro!  What .. What in the world happened?” She asks, understandably concerned why her son was dragging around some unconscious body.

 “He’s bleeding! Did you do this?! Who are these people?”

You decide it’s a great time to make your appearance. You set your shoes down, before stepping out from behind Kujo’s (too large) back. Your hand comes up in a small, awkward wave. 

 “Sorry for the intrusion!” (un)Gracefully you managed to remember your manners, to which Kujo glanced at you quickly. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, as he looks back to his mother quickly.

“It’s none of your business.”

You’d beg to differ, yet keep your mouth shut.

“I’m looking for Gramps. It’s such a pain to find anyone in this house.” Kujo mutters. “Is he in the tea room?”

Miss Holly falters, voice failing her for a moment as her hands drop to her sides. It’s clear she realizes she is not going to get any real answer out of her son. She sighs, before nodding slowly.

"Y-yeah.. I think Abdul's there, too..."

That seemed to be all Kujo needed, before he turns to you suddenly. “Here.”

Suddenly, Kakyoin is being dropped onto you like a sack of potatoes. More like fifty sacks. You almost dropped him, cursing under your breath as you adjusted your grasp on him. You had your arms under his shoulders like you were about to drag him.

You honestly might. Given how he almost ripped you to shreds from the inside out not even an hour ago.

“Hold Kakyoin while I go talk to them.”


Before you could protest, Kujo strode down the hall. Leaving you with an unconscious Kakyoin who keeps groaning now, and Kujo’s mom. 

You and Miss Holly both watch as he disappears around a corner. Before she sighs, looking undeniably worried. You don’t blame her. 

Perhaps snapping out of her thoughts, she turns to face you, taking in your entire appearance. You don’t even wanna imagine what you look like right now. Still disheveled from your earlier fight with Kakyoin, some dried blood stubbornly clinging to your earlobe and down your neck.

She doesn’t seem disgusted, only taking a step closer with her hands clasped together. Only curious. She actually even flashes you a warm smile, and asks you a question.

“So,” 

You swallow.

“Are you… maybe a friend of Jotaro’s?”

Your mouth hangs open awkwardly. It’s a simple yes or no question, yet you don’t know how to answer it. The two of you just beat someone up together (that someone who keeps groaning in your arms), but you weren’t exactly sure if that made you friends.

Would it be weird if you said you guys were? Would Kujo like… pummel you if you said yes?

Would you like to be friends with the Kujo Jotaro?

…

Sure, what the hell.

You can deal with any consequences later. It couldn’t be worse than what Kakyoin got.

[ “Are you… maybe a friend of Jotaro’s?” ]

        ==>YES        

=> NO

“Yeah.” You answer after a beat."

This woman was so delicate, her soft voice was relaxing. 

You wanted to make at least a good first impression, minus the blood and unconscious boy.

Your answer seems to delight her, her warm smile growing, outlined by the softest wrinkles in her face. Your heart skips a beat, this woman might be an angel. Her presence is putting you at ease

“Oh, I knew it!” She beams.

Under her breath, you vaguely hear her murmur something about ‘her sweet Jotaro’ finally making friends. Something about that makes you smile, either the nickname or how fond she is of her son.

“Since you’re going to the tea room anyways, I’ll make sure to bring a first aid kit.” She gestures to your ear, a small look of concern before it’s smoothed over. 

“And some snacks of course!”

Your stomach growls as if on cue.

This woman was an angel. 

She points you to the direction of the tea room.

You start to drag Kakyoin in that direction. If Miss Holly was such a kind hearted woman, you almost wonder if everyone in this family was and Kujo was just some sort of black sheep.

Maybe his Gramps is the kind of grandpa to have cookies magically in his pockets. Maybe he’d tell stories about ‘the good old days’, then fall asleep in the middle of a story. 

You’re curious now.

You don’t even make it halfway down the hall before you hear it. A loud voice, booming through the house.

You have no idea what he’s saying, but judging by his tone, he was complaining about something. Petulant. Yet almost impressively loud.

You slide open the door and are greeted by the sight of two men. 

One was burly, dressed simply. If you had to guess, he was the source of the noise. In his hand, a tea cup. He sets it down with a sharp clink that feels… aggressive. You wonder if that’s the reason for his previous yelling.

The other man is darker-skinned, wearing golden jewelry that caught the sunlight. He’s oddly familiar to you, yet at the moment you couldn’t exactly find out where you know him from. Their conversation dies the moment you appear.

Leaning against the wall—Kujo. Of course. Just watching.

Quite an audience.

Their eyes followed you, cautious but not hostile. It does feel like they were sizing you up, though.

The older man turns his head to the other, speaking. You aren’t sure what (You'll realize later he’s speaking in English), but you get bits and pieces. ‘Stand User’, ‘Jotaro’, ‘Help’.

You assume they’re talking about you.

Your English is… shaky, at best. Not wanting to make a scene, you drag Kakyoin into the room, laying him gently on the tatami. He groans in protest, but you ignore it.

Might as well make yourself at home. 

You settle yourself on the floor, hands in your lap. You just watch as the two men have a conversation, wondering what they were saying.

There’s a pause.

Then-

The burly man clears his throat, like he just remembered manners exist.

“Joseph Joestar,” he says, slow enough for you to understand. Then he gestures beside him. “And this is my friend—Muhammad Avdol.”

Your head snaps up.

... Oh. There it is.

The name clicks into place like something unlocking. Your gaze shifts, really looking at him this time. The gold. The posture. The eyes. 

Yeah. No. 

That’s him.

That’s definitely him. The man from your dream, the one who had asked you so many questions. 

Steel had said he was the one who bestowed your stand upon you, but this man, Muhammed Abdul, had been the one to name it. At least in your dream. 

You want to believe that this is the biggest coincidence the world has ever had, but when has life ever been that easy towards you?

You stare a second too long. Then immediately look away.

You make a face, subtle, quick. Not now. You’re not dealing with any of the implications that follow this.

Not when Kakyoin is lying there, looking like he’s on his death bed.      

              

You meant that as a figure of speech. Not literally on his death bed.

‘I’m sorry, It’s too late. There’s nothing we can do for him.”

Apparently, Kakyoin is going to die.

In a couple of days. And then it somehow gets worse.

The reason he’s going to die is because DIO, the vampire, apparently stuck something inside his head. Which only unsettles you further, because DIO is not acting like any vampire you’ve seen in movies. (You can fully scrap the bag of rice idea now).

Kujo’s grandfather breaks the news pretty much as soon as you get comfortable. 

"Jotaro… It isn't your fault… Look… This man has already pledged his loyalty to Dio. And do you know why? It's because… of this!"

You watch as Kujo’s grandfather, Mr. Joestar leans forward, pushing Kakyoin’s hair aside.

And there it is.

Something under the skin. Moving.

You physically recoil. “What the hell, is that alive?”

Because it is. It twitches.

You hate that.

You hate that so much.

Abdul—Avdol calmly explains it. 

"That's a 'flesh bud', forged from DIO's cells! It burrowed its way into that boy's forehead. Tiny as it may be, it's reached deep enough into his brain to influence his thoughts and feelings!"

“Just like a member of a cult… This boy is a slave to Dio in mind and body!"

So DIO has a cult. A brainwashed, assassin filled, cult. What in the world were you or actually anyone supposed to do against that?

Kujo, somehow still the calmest person in the room, asks why they can’t just… remove it.

And for one brief, shining moment, you think "yeah". That makes sense. Just take it out. Problem solved. Get out the scalpels and start slicing.

Nope.

Apparently if it even twitches while being removed, Kakyoin’s brain is basically done for. Permanent damage. So, you get taken over, and your only two options are brain damage or death. 

You start to understand now why Kakyoin had been acting so strange outside of trying to kill you and Kujo. And you feel horrible.

You vaguely register Avdol talking about DIO (about encountering him, about how dangerous he is) but honestly, your brain is still stuck on the fact that there is a thing living inside this guy’s head.

He was your age, for fuck's sake! None of this was fair.

And then—

Kujo moves forward, with zero hesitation

He crouches down, hands grasping Kakyoin’s face. He doesn’t have the same look you saw on his face while fighting. Not fierce, just determined.

“What are you doing Jotaro!” 

The room erupts into chaos, Mr. Joestar yelling. Everything happens way too fast for you to even process. Somehow the table flips over, Kujo is moving with the precision of a brain surgeon, Kakyoin had woken up and-

With one quick motion, Kujo had used his stand and pulled the flesh bud out with ridiculous precision.

You swear you heard it scream, as Kujo tosses it. Avdol is quick, flames erupting from- somewhere … incinerating the flesh bud into smolders.

And just like that,

It’s over.

Like a dog being dewormed (quick, almost disturbingly so) you watch Kakyoin come back to himself.

His eyes flutter open. He inhales sharply, sitting up, a bandage (courtesy of Miss Holly) now covering the spot where that… thing used to be.

You stare at him for a second, then follow his gaze. Kujo stands by the doorway, quiet, like none of that just happened.

“…Why did you… save me?” Kakyoin asks, voice unsteady.

There’s a pause.

The soft clunk of the Sōzu echoes faintly from outside, filling the silence. Someone shifts. Fabric rustles.

Kujo answers, voice low, almost like it doesn’t matter.

“To be honest… I don’t know.”

A beat.

“…Felt like the right thing to do.”

You glance back at Kakyoin.

There’s something in his expression. Shock, relief, something else you couldn’t name yourself.

There are tears, barely there, gathering at the corners of his eyes. You look away, giving him that moment. 

The air feels… lighter, somehow. Softer. Like everything just settled, all at once. Kujo leaves the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

Well.

Now here you are.

Lying on a futon, in a room inside the Kujo estate. You stare at the ceiling and try to figure out how you even got here.

Your memory drifts back, but it doesn’t get very far. Just Miss Holly’s gentle smile, Mr. Joestar insisting (loudly) that you stay the night. They were weirdly determined about it, and you… gave in.

Kakyoin, too. Though for him it felt less like an invitation and more like a quiet order.

You wonder, briefly, what your parents think. Earlier, you called them and told them you were staying over at a friend’s place.

They didn’t question it. Of course they didn’t. You’re in high school. You’ve been gone longer for less, and they’re probably grateful that you’re getting out for once.

“Have fun!”

That’s the part that sticks.

You stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling again. You don’t like it.

There’s something about being somewhere that isn’t yours, somewhere you don’t know, that sits wrong in your chest. You have a certain feeling that you’re safe here, yet that doesn’t do much to soothe your thoughts

Was this how it was going to be now?

Being a Stand user.

Getting into fights. Meeting weird people. Staring up at unfamiliar ceilings. Maybe you’re just getting too far ahead of yourself.

You turn onto your side, reaching into your bag, fingers brushing around before finding the radio. You flick it on.

CRACKLE!
 

You flinch, immediately turning it down.

Silence.

…Guess ‘Steel’ sleeps?

Or whatever it is ghosts do.

You stare at the radio for a second, mind drifting again.

Do ghosts have houses? Is there, like… a ghost neighborhood out there? An afterlife? Somewhere quiet?

You exhale, letting your eyes fall shut. Sleep is starting to take you easily.

This is fine.

A loud crash jolts you awake.

Somewhere down the hall. Voices.

Shouting.

…

(It’s definitely not).

==> TO BE CONTINUED.