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When Jotaro heard the news, it hit him like a punch to the gut. “What.”
A part of him knew what they were going to say even before anything was said. The apologetic looks on the Speedwagon employee’s faces cued him in, as did the hushed undertones of chatter, sympathetic but irritating nonetheless.
Who were any of these people to grieve his mother? Anger and despair clashed violently within Jotaro, though he was also numb, a layer of disbelief settling over him like dust. Like he’d open her eyes, and she’d be there. She’d be there, because she was always there. Because she wasn’t weak like Jiji said, but strong. She’d been the one person he could lean on, always.
It didn’t matter how rude he was, how sulky or bad-tempered. Didn’t matter how many complaints Holly got about her nasty son with a horrible disposition who started too many fights for his own good. When Holly looked at him, she saw someone sweet, someone whom she loved no matter what new terrible thing people were telling her about him. No matter what horribly unforgivable thing he said. He could be blunt, rude, maybe even cruel, Jotaro knew. But his mother had loved him still, unconditionally and wholly. More than he’d deserved.
And if he’d kicked that fucking vampire’s ass one day earlier, she wouldn’t be – she would still be here.
Joseph’s arm is on Jotaro’s shoulder. It’s an odd parody of the time when they’d found Holly collapsed in the kitchen and he’d slammed Jotaro against the wall, yelling his frustration out. Jotaro had stood there and taken it then, but he sure as fuck isn’t going to now.
“Don’t,” he practically hisses, pushing his grandfather away. “I’m going to – don’t, don’t follow me.” And he bolts.
The pack of cigarettes in his pocket is down to the last two, and he smokes them leisurely. So all of this was a waste, huh? He’d always known it was a possibility his mother could die. It was why he’d risked so much, why he’d thrown himself so entirely into every fight. And for what?
His last cigarette burns out, but he’s in so much turmoil that he barely notices it burning his hand until Star flicks it out of his grip. The pesky little kleptomaniac hands Jotaro a new pack that he undoubtedly lifted from some corner store, but for once, Jotaro doesn’t even have the heart to chide him.
He sits down on the desert sand, spreading his gakuran on the sand like a picnic blanket. Star sits behind him, arms coming to rest around Jotaro, so Jotaro’s sitting unwillingly in the space between his stand’s knees. Still, he can’t find it in himself to be upset or hurt, or even to think of his stand as evil. Star got them this far. Star gave them a real chance, he thinks. Dio is dead now; they put that motherfucker in the sun, and he can’t hurt anybody else. They did that. Him, and Star Platinum.
Star holds Jotaro, and they sit there for a while. Hours pass, and Jotaro doesn’t talk or move. Eventually, Star presses a plastic one litre bottle of drinking water in his hand, and he drinks, but he doesn’t do much else. When he falls asleep under the starry night sky, alone in a way he’s never been before, he tries not to think about it. There’s no home for him to go back to. Home for him had always been Holly. Not that his delinquent, brash behaviour ever indicated that. Still, he thinks maybe she always knew.
It’s only lack of a change of clothes that gets Jotaro to return to the suite they’ve got booked across the hospital. Joseph is excited to see him, deeply relieved, Jotaro thinks. The feeling doesn’t exactly run both ways.
Joseph may have loved Holly, but Jotaro can’t help thinking that he never quite forgave her for moving to Japan and leaving her parents in the States. That feeling manifested in Joseph’s verbal disdain for all things Japanese. Sometimes he felt like the only reason his grandfather wasn’t more racist to him was that if he’d stepped out of line, Holly wouldn’t have let it slide, however kind and sweet she was. If anything, her anger and disappointment somehow weighed more on the offender due to the contrast from her usual nature.
All the anger he hasn’t been allowing himself to feel those past 50 days for Joseph, with his inappropriate comments and his general reckless behaviour flood to the surface, like a mouth filling with blood. And isn’t it fucked up that Jotaro knows what that looks like; what that tastes like, now?
He loves his grandfather. But he hated him once, and maybe that hate hasn’t entirely gone away. Jotaro hated that Joseph acted like it was beneath him to come to Japan, ever. He’d only seen Joseph in person in the USA, or heard him on the phone, before all the stand nonsense and fatal curse became a part of their lives. None of the men in Jotaro’s family have ever given a shit, it feels like. The only person who actually cared, other than Holly, was Grandma Suzie. His grandparents on the dad’s side had been sweet, but they’d both passed when he was pretty young.
He has nobody. Not really. Nobody who gets it. And when Holly was alive, he’d thought she wouldn’t get it, but now he wonders. Did he ever talk to his mother about why he was so angry all the time? About how all he wanted was to be left alone at school, or outside, and how he never was? Did his mother ever know him? The person he knows he is, not the person she chose to see, her precious boy Jotaro, who could do no wrong?
Jotaro blinks when he’s slammed to the wall. Vines of Hermit Purple have him bound and trapped, which seems unreasonable until he’s sees that he’s somehow accidentally manifested Star Platinum, who’s pushed his grandfather against the wall. He takes a slow, stabilising breath, and wills Star away.
“Jiji,” he says. His mind is a mess of emotions, and he feels like a windchime made of broken glass and hanging over a landfill, all noise and swaying in the breeze, not a single beautiful thing to be found in that landscape. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”
“Jotaro,” his grandfather says, and it sounds sad, contains some sort of weight that Jotaro can’t parse. “Do not apologise to me. We Joestar men have never been good at handling our grief, you know?”
Jotaro hmms at that. It’s a fair point.
Hermit Purple finally lets him go. “Is there anything you want to… ask me? Tell me? Get off your chest?”
Why didn’t you visit us in Japan? is on the tip of Jotaro’s tongue. So is Would you love me more if I was white? Would it be easier for you if I was half-European or something? – both questions he’d never asked, not wanting to put his mother in a difficult situation.
Instead of saying either, he murmurs, like a hesitant whisper, “Star Platinum, The World?”
Star appears, time stops, and they both sprint away. When time resumes, Joseph Joestar will find himself in an empty room.
Star had grabbed Jotaro clothes, so it’s easy enough to quickly shower in a gas station bathroom before he pops over to the hospital. He grabs a shitty coffee and a croissant from the café before walking off to the rooms he needs to see.
“Mr Joestar, I’m afraid you can’t see Mr Kakyoin right now,” the nurse tells him. “He’s in surgery.”
Jotaro nearly growls aloud at that like some kind of bulldog. “Kujo,” he tells her. “My last name is Kujo. And how long will it be until I can see him?”
“He should be out in three hours, but will possibly be sedated for the rest of the day,” she tells him. “His condition is stable, so you need not worry.”
Jotaro is relieved at that, but more than anything else, he wants Kakyoin next to him, with his intuitive emotional understanding of the mess that is Jotaro’s mind. He wants Kakyoin to grieve with him, to hear him out, to help him sift through the despair and anger and confusion, to help him put together who Kujo Jotaro is going to be, who Kujo Jotaro has to be, in this new era in which he doesn’t have a mother anymore.
He walks down a corridor and up a flight of stairs to Polnareff’s room, but hesitates at the door.
Polnareff is one of his best friends, that’s not even a question. They didn’t always get along, but during the time Kakyoin had been hospitalised, recovering from his eye wounds, they’d grown close. Jotaro will never forget being seven years old again, holding a three-year-old Polnareff in his arms; nor will he forget the cursed blade of Anubis and the fear he’d felt at the real possibility of killing Polnareff or being killed by him.
The way Jotaro feels about Polnareff is different from how he feels about Kakyoin. He and Kakyoin understand each other easily, with no words necessary. He and Polnareff don’t always get each other, but he knows Polnareff loves him. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, he pushes the door open.
Polnareff is sitting in his bed, arms and legs heavily bandaged, looking out of the window, but his head turns to face Jotaro as the door swings open.
“Jojo, mon cher,” Polnareff says, soft and cautious.
He knows, Jotaro thinks, and he can’t stop himself from running and practically throwing himself into Polnareff’s arms. Star Platinum, bless him, ensures that Jotaro doesn’t hurt Polnareff or press against his wounds as he practically melts against the other man in a desperate hug.
“How are you?” Polnareff asks, gently. Jotaro hasn’t ever heard this tone from him, but it makes sense. He remembers that Polnareff was an elder brother once. The care in his voice is a testament to that.
“How do you think?” Jotaro mumbles. Polnareff’s hands are stroking up and down Jotaro’s back, and while Jotaro doesn’t know if it’s actually helping, it does distract him from the weird feelings of numbness and irritation he’s been carrying around. “I’m not doing well. It’s awful.”
“She was the person you loved more than anyone else,” Polnareff agrees. “Of course you’re feeling bad inside about it.”
“It isn’t fair,” Jotaro murmurs. “We’ve seen so much, fought so much, risked so much. Avdol and Iggy – for what? What was the point of any of it?”
“Hey, hey,” Polnareff says. He takes one of Jotaro’s hands in his, shifting a little, moving the hair around his forehead before pressing Jotaro’s fingers to the skin at the centre of his fringe. The scar tissue there is what Polnareff is showing him, Jotaro realises, as he moves his fingers.
“Remember this fleshbud you took from me? And Kakyoin, too? You saved us, Jotaro. And countless infinite other people who Dio would have hurt. If Dio were still alive, if those enemy stand users working for him were still at work, how many innocent people would be at risk?”
“You’re right,” Jotaro agrees. He puts his hand down. “I’m being selfish.”
“Did I say that?” Polnareff’s arm around Jotaro holds him closer. “You have every right to feel dispirited. You did your best, and it wasn’t enough. That’s always a horrible feeling. Do you know how many times I wished I’d just walked with Sherry to school, that one day?”
“I’m sorry,” Jotaro says. He looks at Polnareff, at the sadness in his expression. Thinks of what he’s heard about Avdol and Iggy’s deaths, thinks of Polnareff watching. Polnareff, he thinks, may be the only other person who understands how hard this is hitting him.
A shot of guilt stabs through him as he remembers Joseph. Whatever Joseph may or may not have been to Jotaro, he loved Holly, and he’d lost her too. He must be taking it just as badly.
“I really am selfish,” Jotaro says again, softly.
“You’re in pain,” Polnareff corrects.
“I’m not the only one,” Jotaro points out.
“Jojo, you’re seventeen, and you travelled halfway around the world to save your mother,” Polnareff says. “The way you feel now – it must be isolating. You’re not selfish for feeling that way.”
Something has occurred to Jotaro now. “I’m sorry Polnareff, but I’ve got to go.”
“Yeah, alright,” Polnareff says. He must hear something in Jotaro’s tone, for him not to try and stop him. “Take care, don’t do anything rash, oui?”
“I won’t,” Jotaro assures. “Just gotta talk to the old man. Thank you for talking to me.”
Polnareff presses a kiss to Jotaro’s cheek, and Jotaro makes a face. “Kisses are gross.”
“You love me,” Polnareff says, rolling his eyes.
“Unfortunately,” Jotaro agrees, getting up and walking off to the door.
“Hey!”
Jotaro makes it back to the suite. Joseph is sitting there, reading the newspaper and drinking tea.
“I’m sorry,” Jotaro murmurs.
Joseph enfolds him in a hug, and Jotaro lets him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Jotaro hmms an affirmation, and is quiet for a moment, composing his sentences in his head before he says them verbally.
“I’ve always felt like you only care about me because I’m Holly’s son,” Jotaro says. “Like, I’m her son first and your grandson as an afterthought. You don’t feel kinship to me on my own. My mom is the connecting factor.”
He isn’t sure if he’s explaining it right. Rationally, it sounds like garbage. Of course Holly is the reason they’re related. But what Jotaro’s trying to say is deeper, more complicated. He isn’t sure, if Holly had never been there to smooth down the tension, to take Jotaro’s side, to explain things to Joseph, if he would’ve had any kind of relationship at all with his grandfather.
“Oh, Jotaro,” Joseph says. He does not let go of Jotaro. “I don’t feel that way at all, but I understand if I’ve given you that impression. I’m very sorry. I do think of you as Holly’s son, because you have some of the qualities that she’s always had, such as your commitment to doing hard work uncomplainingly, and your kindness and compassion… but if I’m honest, I’ve never been sure how to connect to you! You’ve always been so quiet, and Japanese culture is so different from British and American culture, I didn’t want to come off too strong, or offend you!”
Jotaro moves away from the hug, giving his grandfather a sceptical look.
“I’m aware that I have said things that are tactless or inappropriate about Asian cultures more than once,” Joseph says, reading the look for what it is. “And I am aware that those comments would have affected you, and that you shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of thing from your old man.”
“And where is this self-awareness coming from?” Jotaro asks, disbelieving.
“Kakyoin, if you’ll believe that,” Joseph says. “Remember that night we all had had drinks at that minibar?”
“You had to carry him upstairs,” Jotaro remembers. Some idiot (Polnareff) had thought it was a good idea to give Kakyoin, who’d only drunk sake before, all the hard liquors.
“He used Hierophant to tap me firmly on the head, all while giving me a very serious yet very slurred lecture on how I was a terrible grandfather. He didn’t remember any of it the next day.” Joseph grins “Don’t tell him.”
“The fuck?” Jotaro says.
Joseph is still grinning. “I know. Don’t yell at him, it was deserved.”
“No, I meant, wow,” Jotaro says. “Kakyoin doesn’t do that kind of shit unless he’s very angry.”
“Or very drunk, apparently,” Joseph says. “If his parents find out how much he’s drinking and what he’s been doing, we’re in hot water.”
Jotaro snorts, surprising both Joseph and himself. “Nah Jiji, that ship has already sailed. I don’t think his parents will take him back, from what he’s told me about them. I don’t know what to do, though. I told him he could come back to live with me and Mom, after this was over, but…”
It hits him again. The big house, with all the framed photos of him. The only person who liked looking at all that crap was her, and she wasn’t going to ever see it again.
He looks at Joseph, eyes wary. “Does Sadao know?”
“I’m not sure, Jojo,” Joseph says. The expression in his eyes is equally wary. “I think the Speedwagon Foundation is taking care of all that.”
Jotaro closes his eyes. Wonders what life is going to be like now. His dad isn’t going to give up touring for him, and his eighteenth birthday is in two weeks anyway. Will he end up living alone, in the big house? It’s his Mom’s house more than it’s his – every flower in the garden, every photograph, every carefully chosen piece of cutlery will remind him of her.
“You really believed we’d be able to do it,” Jotaro murmured. “Defeat Dio in time. Didn’t you?”
“I had no choice but to believe that,” Joseph murmurs. “If you ever have a child, you’ll understand. The world is a little less bright, without her here.”
Jotaro thinks of his mother, always smiling and laughing, happy and cheerful for no apparent reason. She’d narrate the longest stories animatedly, though after 50 days with the old man, Jotaro sees where she gets it from, and she cared about people so much, so wholly. Jotaro still remembers what Kakyoin had said about his mother, about how she was so kind and gentle that she naturally put people at ease, and if he ever fell in love, he’d want to fall in love with someone like that. Normally, boys from school talking about how they found his mother attractive was an automatic punch to the face, but Kakyoin hadn’t said it like that. He’d sounded respectful, and genuine. And he was right; Holly really was the sort of person who could make people feel comfortable around her without even doing anything.
“She was my mother, Jiji,” Jotaro says. He shifts, giving his grandfather another hug. “Of course I understand.”
The intercom rings, and Joseph picks up. “Yes? Yes, this is Joseph Joestar. Oh… he’s out of surgery? He’s alright? He’s asking for… me? Yes, I’ll be there right away.”
The moment Joseph puts the phone down, Jotaro asks, “Kakyoin?”
Joseph nods. “He’s awake, come on.”
The two men walk over to the hospital, crossing the road and walking in. Nobody stops them, which makes sense – if information had been relayed to them over the phone, clearly the hospital staff were expecting them. Or it’s a stand attack, a voice in Jotaro’s head murmurs. He asks the voice to shut the fuck up.
Kakyoin in the hospital bed looks frail. There isn’t any other word for it. He hadn’t looked like this after N’Doul, even, but right now, with tubes and wires plugged into him, and his posture one of sheer exhaustion, he looks extremely weak.
Still, a weak Kakyoin is an alive Kakyoin, so Jotaro will take it.
“Mr Joestar,” Kakyoin says, desperation in it. “Mr Joestar, did we, were you able to understand, my last Emerald Splash… Dio, did we stop Dio?”
Joseph walks up to him. “Yes Kakyoin, we did. Dio is gone. We put him in sunlight, and he will never return, so you can rest without worries. You did well, son. We wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”
“If that’s the case, why do you look so miserable?” Kakyoin asks, frowning. He shifts a little, and looks at Jotaro. “Jojo? What’s going on?”
“I couldn’t do it,” Jotaro murmurs. “I couldn’t –”
“We couldn’t do it,” Joseph corrects. “This was a team operation, Jotaro, don’t shoulder responsibility all by yourself.”
She was my mother, Jotaro thinks, but he knows that she was Joseph’s daughter. His only child, just as she was Jotaro’s only mother, and sometimes even felt like his only parent.
“Oh,” Kakyoin looks devastated. Of course he’s put it together without needing to be told; he’s clever like that. “Mr Joestar, Jotaro, I’m so, so sorry for your loss.”
It doesn’t sound insincere. From anyone else it would’ve pissed him off. He would’ve asked, what was my mother to you? How dare you think you can understand my pain? but it’s Kakyoin, his best friend.
“Yeah,” Jotaro says. It’s not enough, but he has no better words.
“We appreciate that Kakyoin, thank you,” Joseph says. Jotaro is absurdly grateful for a painful moment. “I’m going to get coffee, Jotaro, Kakyoin, you want anything?”
“I can’t exactly eat anything just yet,” Kakyoin reminds him.
Jotaro shrugs. “You’re not missing anything, the coffee is just fucking bean water,” he says. But to Joseph he says, “Get me a coffee?”
“Oh wow, the self-contradictory Jotaro Kujo,” Kakyoin teases, his hand resting on Jotaro’s knee as Jotaro sits on the chair by the bed. “Anyway, all that aside. How do you feel?”
“Angry,” Jotaro murmurs. “My mother never hurt him. My mother never hurt anyone. All Dio does is prey on the weak. He stole Jonathan’s body. He murdered my mother. He – ” Jotaro closes his eyes. “And his stand is just like mine. If stands are physical manifestations of the soul, what does that say about me?”
Star Platinum, Jotaro knows, is kind and caring. He's seen it enough to believe it. But it's like those Jenny Holzer truisms Kakyoin had been telling Jotaro about the other day. ABUSE OF POWER COMES AS NO SURPRISE. Star may be kind, but Jotaro's the one at the helm. And he can't help thinking about how Kakyoin, one of the strongest, bravest and smartest fighters he knows, when not distracted nor outsmarted, has only been defeated by sheer strength of two stands. Dio's, and Jotaro's.
What does it say about Jotaro, that his soul is a powerhouse of conflict? That the manifestation of who he is matches one of the worst people Jotaro knows? Over the course of fifty days, Jotaro has come to - well, maybe not love, but like Star Platinum, like him the way he would like a best friend. It's not Star that he has his doubts about; it's himself he doesn't trust.
But where's the line, to be drawn? How much of him is Star, and how much of Star is him? And how much of both of them isn't that different from Dio, or from the World, at all?
“Jotaro, The World is nothing like Star Platinum,” Kakyoin insists, taking one of Jotaro’s hands in his. “The World held me still while I struggled to get away from Dio in the bedroom, more than once. Star Platinum gives me the warmest hugs, when I wake up from a particularly horrifying nightmare. Somehow, he just knows. Even when you’re asleep, he knows. I feel safe around him. I couldn’t say that for The World.” He looks at Jotaro. “Maybe you and Dio have the same power, but that doesn’t say anything about you. I trust you. You’d never use Star to take advantage of someone’s weaknesses. I still remember….” he pauses, yawns. ‘That first speech you gave, when I met you, about the nature of evil,” Kakyoin completes.
Jotaro squeezes the hand that’s in his. “Hey, you’re struggling to keep your eyes open,” he says. “Get some rest.”
“Someone needs to take care of you,” Kakyoin murmurs.
“Polnareff and Jiji will take care of me, you focus on resting and recovering,” Jotaro says.
“I speak Japanese, though,” Kakyoin reminds him, eyes closing. He goes on talking, each word coming out softer and softer. “You can…say whatever you want…. and I’ll … understand you….”
“I don’t think that’s because of our common languages,” Jotaro says. “I think it’s because of the kind of person you are.”
Kakyoin is properly asleep though, now, the sedative having hit. Jotaro sits there, watching him sleep for a while. Maybe it should feel creepy, but it doesn’t. He just needs to know that Kakyoin is still alive, still with them. He doesn’t know what he’ll do, how he’ll move forward, if he loses anyone else.
When Joseph returns, Jotaro takes his coffee with a grunt, and takes a tentative sip.
Joseph sits down on the chair on the other side of the bed, watching Jotaro. After a moment, though, his gaze shifts, looking at the monitors beeping and reporting on Kakyoin. Something occurs to Jotaro, something that feels obvious in retrospect.
“You’re the reason Kakyoin is still alive,” Jotaro murmurs. “Aren’t you?”
Joseph nods. “He’s a strong young man, that plays a part in it, no doubt. Hierophant Green didn’t want him to die. Still, I had to use Hamon. A lot of it, too. It’s been decades since I needed that kind of flow.”
“Glad you weren’t rusty,” Jotaro says, softly. Kakyoin’s hand, somehow, is still in his. His skin is soft, and his fingers clasp Jotaro’s even in sleep. It makes something deep inside Jotaro hurt, ache in a way that’s full of longing. It’s a better feeling than the numbness, at any rate.
“As am I,” Joseph agrees. “I’m going to go check in on Polnareff. Do you want to stay here?”
“Mm.”
“I’ll get them to organise a bed for you,” Joseph says.
“Isn’t that expressly forbidden?” Jotaro asks.
“Hey, being a Joestar has its perks sometimes,” Joseph says. He grins, but it falls flat. He pats Jotaro’s shoulder as he walks by him, murmurs something that sounds like, “If you love him, hold on to him, yeah?”
“What?” Jotaro blinks, but Joseph’s already left the room. “Jiji, what?!”
When Jotaro wakes up, the next morning, it’s to find threads of green tangled up in his fingers and around his body, playing with strands of his hair. He’s never been as delighted to see Hierophant as he is just then; he vaguely remembers a fear of never seeing Hierophant or Kakyoin again, for reasons he’s too sleepy to fully remember. Smiling, he shifts, propping his head up.
Kakyoin is lying on the bed, red hair in an uncombed halo around him, his solitary tendril of hair curled upwards. His gaze is fixed on Jotaro, and there’s a half-smile on his mouth. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he says, fondly.
Jotaro doesn’t reply, just thinks about how nice it is that there’s no threat. He can’t wait to go home, and have his mother meet Kakyoin for real, his first friend, now that the fleshbud’s out –
And he stops in his tracks, because he can’t do that. He’ll never see his mother again. And the last interaction he had with her feels like years ago. He’s grown a lot in those fifty days, not the same person who left the Kujo estate, and Holly will never get to see any of that. He remembers, vaguely, she’d been holding a picture of him, talking to it, my darling Jojo must be thinking of me!
He’d thought it was embarrassing, especially with an unconscious boy on his shoulder, that his mother seemed to think of him the same way she had when he was very small. Now, he misses that. He’d take all the sloppy lipgloss kisses, all the cutesy cut vegetables in his bento and little post-its of affirmations and her singing along to the radio, the pop songs that he hated. It annoyed him so much; he thought it’d always annoy him. Now he misses even that annoyance.
“Hey, Jotaro,” Kakyoin is saying. “Jotaro. Jotaro. Jojo.”
Tendrils of green are on his face, wiping away tears, he notes. Wait a minute. Tears?
Jotaro blinks furiously, sitting up, wiping his face with his hands.
“Hey,” Kakyoin says. “Hierophant’s still regaining strength, or I’d do this myself, so may I ask Star Platinum a favour?”
Jotaro nods, not trusting his voice to speak. Star Platinum manifests, looking at Kakyoin with big eyes.
“Hello, sweet Star,” Kakyoin says. He often talks to Star Platinum like Star is some kind of big dog; a husky or a German Shephard maybe. Jotaro will never admit it, but he thinks it’s cute as fuck. “Could you move Jojo’s bed so it’s pressed against mine? With no space against the bedframes. Yes, and be mindful of those medical things, and that blanket… yeah, that’s good. Thank you so much.”
The next thing Jotaro knows, Kakyoin’s arms are enveloping him. “Let it out,” he murmurs to Jotaro. “Okay?”
Jotaro exhales, not crying anymore, but he does shuffle closer carefully. He presses his face to Kakyoin’s shoulder, feels Kakyoin’s hands on his back, holding him in place.
“How are you?” Jotaro asks. “How’s the pain?”
“Oh, I’m undefeatable,” Kakyoin says, making a dorky hand gesture.
“Yeah?” Jotaro can almost feel himself smiling as he curls up closer to Kakyoin.
“Yes,” Kakyoin agrees, before he closes his eyes and sighs. “Hurts like shit, though.”
“Kakyoin,” Jotaro murmurs. “What are we gonna do once we get back to Japan?”
“Mmm?” Kakyoin sighs. “I don’t know, Jotaro.”
The door opens, and Polnareff wheels in excitedly, carrying a bouquet, which he hands Hierophant Green excitedly. “KAKYOIN!”
“Jesus Christ, Polnareff,” Kakyoin sounds frustrated. “Keep it down, dumbass. This is a hospital.”
Still, he’s smiling when Polnareff moves to the other side of the bed from Jotaro, and gives him a hug.
Joseph enters briefly after. “Guess who’s having BAGELS for BREAKFAST!” he says, excitedly.
“I don’t know, penguins?” Kakyoin sighs. “You’re being loud enough to be heard at the Arctic.”
“Antarctic,” Jotaro corrects.
“Huh?” Kakyoin looks at him. “Did I misremember?”
“Yes,” Jotaro says. “There’s no swimming space near the North Pole, so you only find penguins at the Antarctic. Don’t feel bad about it, it’s a common mistake. Plus, you must be pretty high on pain meds.”
“Nah, this is nothing,” Kakyoin says, smiling. “Dio’s fleshbud was worse.” Noticing the way everyone’s expression instantly drops at that, he asks, “Too much?”
“It’s him we’re pissed at, not you,” Jotaro assures Kakyoin. “I’m gonna kill him all over again.”
“Jojo, you said you’d rest,” Kakyoin protests. Contrary to the tender sentiment of his words, Hierophant picks up a bagel, and throws it at Jotaro.
“DON’T THROW THE BAGELS!” Joseph bellows.
“Penguins alright,” Jotaro confirms in Japanese, raising an eyebrow at Kakyoin, who bursts into laughter.
Joseph, meanwhile, turns to face Polnareff, and begins to yell again. Star Platinum manifests solely to cover Jotaro’s ears.
“WHY ARE YOU USING SILVER CHARIOT TO SPREAD BUTTER ON THE BAGELS, YOU HEATHEN? USE A KNIFE LIKE THE REST OF US!”
“Mr Joestar, there’s really no need to shout,” Kakyoin says, and unsurpsingly and unfortunately gets ignored for all his efforts.
“Yare yare,” Jotaro says, but, without his permission, a smile finds its way onto his face. He loves these three men with all his heart, and it does make him feel a little better, despite not being enough to take away the pain, or the grief, or the numb feeling Jotaro has, like the moment he’ll enter the Kujo estate, he’ll cry, or maybe he’ll start talking to the koi the way his mother used to – will they be lonely without her, too? He’s sure they’ll notice her absence, and wonder at it. Koi are damn clever. Or maybe they already know; after all, they were there when she passed.
After breakfast, Joseph goes off to change clothes and shower, so it’s just Polnareff, Kakyoin and Jotaro. Polnareff, to Jotaro’s surprise, gets out a chess board and begins to play with Kakyoin. They talk while they play, too, and Jotaro just watches Kakyoin, his elegant fingers moving the chess pieces, the frown of concentration on his face. He's cute when he focuses on something like that, with gritty determination. It's his video-game face.
Eventually, Polnareff says, “Kakyoin, would you want to return to Paris with me? Once you’re better? I know you don’t exactly have a place to go.”
“Thank you, Polnareff,” Kakyoin says. He hesitates for a moment. “But I think I’ll go where Jotaro goes. Unless he’d prefer I don’t.”
“Stay with me,” Jotaro says. “In Mom’s house. Just for a bit. Until we can make plans, and get a new place.”
“Of course,” Kakyoin says. In Japanese, he says, “I’m with you for as long as you’ll have me.”
That makes Jotaro tug the brim of his hat down, to hide a fierce blush.
“Are you sure?” Polnareff gives him a considering look. “You can stay with me too, if you want, Jotaro. It’d be nice having you both around. You’re like family to me, you know? Mes frères.”
Jotaro doesn’t know what that means, and doesn’t ask, but from Kakyoin’s slightly exaggerated “Aww, adorable! I didn’t know you were such a sentimental guy, Polnareff!” he can tell it’s nothing bad.
He doesn’t want to shoot down the offer, though. If living in Japan reminds him too much of Holly, he needs a backup plan. Living with Joseph and Suzie-Q is an option, but exploring France with Polnareff and Kakyoin feels like a better option. Like there’ll be less to remind him of the person he was closest to, whom he loved more than anyone in the world, who isn’t here with him anymore now.
“I need to sort things out in Japan, first,” Jotaro tells Polnareff. “But France sounds fun. And Kakyoin’s already fluent in French, so…”
“He never told me how he got so good at it,” Polnareff grumbles.
“French films are phenomenal,” Kakyoin says, which spurs an animated discussion between him and Polnareff in French that is too fast for Jotaro to follow. Still, he watches them talk, letting the cadence of the language and the voices of his best friends wash over him. Star, at some point, has manifested, and is giving Jotaro a hug, and for a single moment, he thinks maybe, just maybe, the future could hold good things; that he could be wholly happy again, before he’s hit with guilt.
“Sweetheart,” Star Platinum says with Holly’s voice, at that very moment, “I only want you to be happy, alright? Promise me you’ll do that for me, my darling Jojo?”
Jotaro blinks away freshly forming tears. “Yeah,” he manages to say. It goes unnoticed by the other two men, who are still talking about French cinema. “Yeah.”
Star moves so that he’s holding Jotaro’s face in one hand, and then leans forward, peppering it with kisses like his mother used to do. For a moment, it’s her eyes he sees, staring at him, and then Star blinks, and it’s just Star Platinum.
Kakyoin and Polnareff finally seem to notice that Jotaro is sitting there, in Star Platinum’s arms, crying, because two sets of arms hold him close. A few minutes later, the door opens, and without yelling for once, Joseph Joestar joins the group hug.
Jotaro closes his eyes. He knows what he heard, what he saw. Star Platinum talking with his mother’s voice, looking at him with his mother’s eyes. One final message from her; a last goodbye.
“I’ll miss you always,” he murmurs into Star Platinum’s chest. Just in case his mother is still there, listening.