Archive of Our Own

A long sigh dragged from Jotaro’s lips as he stared out of the train window, a blur of the city passing by.

Jolyne, in the meanwhile, kept fidgeting and jumping in her seat beside him, kicking her legs up in the air. Jotaro didn’t know how she still had this much energy, after a seventeen-hour flight from Florida to Japan that she managed to sleep for only two hours, now crammed in the train to Tokyo to his mother’s house—Jolyne was still brimming and buzzing with an energy Jotaro had never expected from a seven-year-old. Jolyne kept kicking up her legs with an absentminded noise, her back sliding down from the train seat that practically dwarfed her, the back of her knees pressing against the table. Jotaro held back another sigh from tumbling past him, tearing his gaze from the rushing city and verdant trees from the window towards his daughter.

“Jolyne,” he called out, “Sit properly.”

Jolyne only let out a small whine, brows furrowing. She slid further down her seat, practically lying horizontally, and Jotaro grabbed her by her shirt to force her to sit up.

Jolyne slid back down her seat.

Good grief. Jotaro wondered where this defiant attitude had suddenly emerged from. He picked Jolyne up again and pushed her back up to her seat, but Jolyne only slid back down once more. With a louder whine this time, and suddenly Jotaro was all too aware of the elders throwing them disapproving glances—their disapproval growing at his half-Japanese self and his even less Japanese daughter. Gaijin. Jotaro’s brows twitched in discomfort.

“Jolyne,” Jotaro tried again, his voice a little softer. “Come on, sit up,” he urged, switching to Japanese, sparing a glance at a particular elder who kept staring at them.

“I don’t want to!” Jolyne replied in English, kicking her legs again in her seat, her feet not even reaching the floor.

Jotaro pinched the bridge of his nose underneath the brim of his hat, trying to ignore the further pointed glances from the other passengers. He tugged Jolyne up once more, who let out a defiant whine, but Jotaro only brought her to his lap. Jolyne squirmed; she was probably antsy from sitting down for however long, but Jotaro thought she was bound to exhaust her energy at some point between the plane ride and the train journey. He knew she was a hyperactive child, but this was taking the cake.

Jotaro patted Jolyne’s back gently, holding her close to his chest. Between fighting enemy stand users and saving the world, the hardest thing Jotaro had ever faced was trying to stop his young daughter from throwing a tantrum. Let alone in public.

“You’ve been up all day, aren’t you getting tired?” Jotaro continued in Japanese, keeping a softer tone. Mostly for himself, so he kept whatever was left of his remaining sanity. If Jolyne had been up for a while, then Jotaro was practically nocturnal, his eyes bloodshot. He lifted Jolyne higher up his torso so her little head nestled into his shoulder, pudgy cheek smushed against him. Jolyne let out a petulant sound, squirming further.

“I’m not sleepy!” she cried back, still in English, “I wanna go to the beach!” Jolyne exclaimed. Jotaro couldn’t remember when he promised her that when he told her they were going to Japan, but it seemed to be the only thing that was on Jolyne’s mind. Jotaro only persisted with the patting, making gentle shushing noises, as if she were still a baby. Clearly, he was desperate.

“Jolyne, please,” Jotaro’s voice dropped to a whisper. He pushed Jolyne’s head back against his shoulder when she tried to pull away with a groan, her legs wriggling in agitation on either side of Jotaro’s torso. Jotaro held back whatever more grumbles urged to leave his mouth, his other hand moving up to thread through Jolyne’s dark locks cascading down her back as he kept patting her back. God, she was sweating. Jotaro grimaced at the thin sheen of sweat glistening at Jolyne’s roots, beading near her temples, but he kept running his hands through her hair anyway, trying to card as much of it off.

Soon, Jolyne’s breathing was evening out. Her head lolled around on Jotaro’s shoulder, and her limbs fell slack.

A soft sigh of relief left Jotaro. He kept running his fingers through Jolyne’s tufts even after she was asleep. Perhaps it gave him something to do to prevent his mind from wandering to the blaring stresses in his life. This trip was supposed to be a break, a distraction, but he wasn’t back in Japan for no reason, after all.

Jotaro fluttered his eyes shut for a moment, pressing his warm forehead against the cold window.

He wished he could treat this like a holiday.

Verdant trees rustling in the gentle breeze under the night sky, the repeated clacking of the water fountain echoing across the garden, lapping waves of the pond tumbling over each other underneath the bridge—after a bumbling journey from the train, Jotaro took in a deep breath to himself as he took in the surroundings of his childhood home. He tugged a sleeping Jolyne higher in his hold, who hadn’t woken up since Jotaro put her to sleep, supporting her weight with one arm while he held their luggage in the other. The busy buzzing and bumbling of the city became drowned out, replaced by the quiet harmony of the birds’ chirping, the sounds of water flowing through the fountain, and the brushing of Jotaro’s footsteps across the stone platforms. Jotaro paused for a moment to stare longer, to take in the fresh air when not surrounded by Floridian pollution, before he knew when to break his gaze away.

Jotaro didn’t know the next time he’d be back, back here, back in Japan.

Stepping over the bridge, his mother was already waiting at the front door. Older and a little more vain, but her smile was just as bright and beaming. Like she was waiting to kiss Jotaro goodbye for school again.

“Jotaro!” Holly cried out, but Jotaro only made a shushing motion with his mouth, his chin pointing to Jolyne. His mother quickly covered her mouth with a squeak, an apologetic look on her face. She walked up to Jotaro, cradling his face in her warm palms.

“Oh, you look like you haven’t slept a wink,” his mother sighed out, brows upturned in concern. Great, that was the first thing she had to say to him. Was it that bad?

Jotaro only shrugged with a minimal grunt—his movements limited by Jolyne’s sleeping head nestled into his shoulder. Holly stroked her thumbs down Jotaro’s face, and Jotaro mechanically leaned down to let her press a kiss to his cheek.

Then, Holly was taking her granddaughter from him before Jotaro could even register that the weight against his neck was gone. “Come in, come quickly!” His mother ushered through a whisper, opening the front door with one hand, while the other held Jolyne. “I’ve set up a futon in your room. I’ll set Jolyne down, okay?”

Jotaro had no choice but to listen, no longer the boisterous seventeen-year-old who shouted curses at his mother, their suitcase dragging behind him.

He was home.

“Should I wake Jolyne up for dinner?” Holly asked, setting down a bowl of rice on the dinner table.

Shaking his head, Jotaro reached for a side dish—leave it up to his mother to not know how to cook a normal portion of anything. An abundance of dishes lay in front of him, and Jotaro feared he didn’t have the appetite to try all of them. “She’s been awake for too long. I only managed to get her down on the train ride here,” he explained, picking up a piece of meat with his chopsticks. “Let her sleep it off.”

His mother only nodded, soon sitting down.

Dinner was eaten in a quiet manner—the savoury aroma wafting into Jotaro’s nostrils could only do so much for the pit sinking further in his core, stomach curling into itself. Jotaro didn’t have much to say, weary eyes forcing themselves open through the jet lag, and his mother didn’t force him to make conversation either. She only pushed more food onto his plate with a soft grin, picking out the cucumber from a pickled dish and forking it onto his plate, as she used to when he was younger. Jotaro ate them without complaints.

When Jotaro slid open the shoji door to his childhood bedroom, almost everything looked exactly the same as before—like it was more of a preservation of his life than a place he could live in. Perhaps that much was true. The posters splayed across his room frayed at the edges, one of Chiyonofuji Mitsugu, and another smaller one, of a few biological sketches of various seashells and crustaceans. As Jotaro stepped in further—sliding the door shut behind him—his gaze fell to his desk, now organised from the mess of textbooks he remembered splayed across the wooden expanse before he left for America, now neatly tucked away. There was an empty space between the wall and the desk, where his aquarium used to be, a darkening patch against the paint from where it had been agitated. Jotaro had to give his fish away not long after graduation. He missed his aquarium.

Then, Jotaro’s gaze fell to his sleeping daughter curled up on the futon, her little head peeking out from the covers. He was no longer seventeen.

Heaving the suitcase behind him, perhaps, Jotaro cheated when he summoned Star Platinum to lift the luggage for him and set it down carefully onto the tatami mat. He couldn’t risk agitating the flooring, or worse—waking Jolyne up.

Crawling into the futon, Jotaro nudged his pillow closer towards his daughter before lying down. The gentle sounds of Jolyne’s breathing set his rattling heart at a little ease, but it could not remedy the sprouting disquietude burrowing further inside of him. He stared at her sleeping face, at the long lashes tickling her pudgy cheeks, at her small frame sprawled onto the futon on her back, her green fringe splayed across the pillow like wild feathers. Jolyne’s chubby hand was splayed out, fingers clenching around nothing, and Jotaro watched the rise and fall of her little chest against the blanket. Jotaro held his hand out, and Jolyne’s hand subconsciously closed around his thumb. His weary eyes fell shut.

Jotaro could only hope sleep would come to him easily, with the sound of Jolyne’s gentle breathing lulling him.

“Dad!” A voice cried out, and then Jotaro was shaken with an alarming amount of strength. He cracked an eye open, squinting at the gleaming ribbons of light streaming in through the windows. “Daddy, wake up!”

“Tou-chan!” Jotaro could hear his mother’s voice from the kitchen, chastising.

A sheepish sound left Jolyne; she shook Jotaro again. “Tou-chan!” she corrected herself, peeking her head within Jotaro’s line of vision—a bright grin on her face. “Time to wake up, breakfast is ready!”

A low groan squeezed past Jotaro’s lips. He nestled his head further into the covers, screwing his eyes shut, but Jolyne only climbed onto him. She shook him even harder, small hands grabbing at his shoulders over the blanket. Jolyne had always been a hyperactive child. Give me a break. Jotaro’s arms slid from under the covers to wrap around his daughter, dragging her down to his side where he held her close against his chest. Jolyne squealed.

Jotaro hid his smirk through the kiss he pressed onto the crown of Jolyne’s head, keeping his lips there, arms squeezing around her tighter. Jolyne stopped wriggling, and Jotaro’s eyes fell shut once more. Maybe, he could sleep a little longer, just a little longer—

Then, Jolyne kicked him in the stomach.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” His mother’s voice beamed, standing over the kitchen stove.

Jotaro only spared her a tired glance, a hand clutching his abdomen. While Jolyne pranced over in front of him, her beaming grin rivalling Holly’s. She ran over to her side. “I woke Daddy up!” Jolyne cried with an accomplished expression.

“Tou-chan,” Holly gently corrected, a hand patting her head. “Thank you, Jolyne.”

A short giggle escaped Jolyne, and she bounced on the heels of her feet before Jotaro was ushering her to the dining table, taking a seat next to her. Like dinner, his mother went all out in her inability to cook a normal amount of food—an array of various breakfast dishes were splayed across the table, items following a traditional Japanese breakfast. Holly sat on the opposite side of them, knees folded underneath her lap on the cushion.

Jolyne smacked her hands together, a wide grin on her face. “Itadakimasu!” she horribly butchered through broken Japanese, and Jotaro stifled a short chuckle. His mother must’ve taught Jolyne that, seeing as she smiled warmly despite the odd pronunciation. Holly nodded gleefully, gently repeating after her with the proper pronunciation before they began to eat.

Taking Jolyne’s plate, Jotaro placed a few slices of tamagoyaki before handing it back, knowing she’d be willing to try something familiar first. “These are eggs, you’ll like them,” he told, and Jolyne nodded, holding her chopsticks in an odd cross-formation as she attempted to pick up her food, taking an awkward bite.

Holly’s brows grew upturned at her attempts; she pushed forward a steaming bowl of miso soup towards her. “Try the soup too, I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“Okay!”

Jotaro stared at his bowl of rice, taking another bite. It tasted like sand on his tongue. “How was the flight?” His mother asked, placing a few pieces of tamagoyaki onto his plate as well.

“It was alright. Exhausting,” Jotaro replied, about to take a bite of the eggs before his gaze fell to Jolyne’s empty plate, then to his daughter scarfing down the last of her tamagoyaki, and he gave her some of his. “How’s everything been at home?”

“Oh, you know. Same old.”

“You should visit us!” Jolyne piped up, mouth full of food. Jotaro only let out a soft sigh and wiped at the side of her face with a napkin. Jolyne swallowed her mouthful. “We have Disney World!”

Holly laughed fondly. “Of course. I’d love to go with you, Jolyne-chan.”

“Dad—Tou-chan said he’s going to take me to the beach soon!” Jolyne continued, eyes wide in excitement. “He’s going to show me where he works!” His mother spared Jotaro a soft grin, and Jotaro paused his spoonful of rice halfway towards his mouth.

“I promised I’d take her to the beach in Japan,” he simply explained before turning to his daughter. “Jolyne, I don’t work at the beach. I’ve conducted research there, but I don’t work there.”

“My, doesn’t that sound exciting!” Holly interrupted, “You’ll have to remember to bring me a souvenir.”

“We will!”

They conversed some more, about mundane things—the weather in Japan compared to the states, the new gardening book his mother picked up, and how his thesis came along. It all felt like thorns pricking under Jotaro’s tongue, unfamiliar yet so under-stimulating. After months, if not years, of dealing with stand users at every turn, Jotaro couldn’t help but struggle adjusting to the non-violent life once more, to a life before stands, before Dio, before all of this. It was a longstanding issue in his life after Egypt, but Jotaro had never felt so out of place before, here with his daughter and his mother, a position that many would dream of being in, enjoying the quietness of breakfast.

Soon, he was helping his mother clear the plates off the table, and Jolyne was bouncing to her feet. “Can I watch TV?” she asked Jotaro.

Holly answered for him; she knelt to Jolyne’s level. “Your father says you like Pokémon, don’t you? We should have it. Do you know where the living room is?”

Jolyne nodded excitedly, and Holly sent her in the direction through the shoji door where her thudding footsteps grew quieter and quieter before stopping—indicating Jolyne had found the living room. Jotaro watched as she disappeared from the corner of his eye before turning to the pile of dishes in his hands.

Jotaro placed the dishes into the sink, turning on the faucet. “She won’t be happy when she finds out it’s all in Japanese,” he grumbled, a slightly amused grin on his face, but his mother wasn’t laughing.

“I thought she understood Japanese?”

Jotaro’s expression grew apprehensive. He shuffled to the side to make room for his mother as they both began to wash the dishes. “She does, but she doesn’t like it when I speak to her in it,” he sighed out, trying to keep a mild smile on his face. “Since she usually replies in English.”

Holly’s frown remained; she retrieved some dish soap from the counter. “How’s everything been?” she began, changing the topic. “With the divorce.”

At that, Jotaro stilled.

A few moments passed in silence—save for the sounds of running water and his mother scrubbing at a plate—before Jotaro found his bearings to speak again. He glanced down at the suds deflating on his palm, at his silver wedding band.

“Amicable,” he replied simply.

His marriage was already hanging by a thread by the time he left for Morioh. Between fighting enemy stand-users, leftover from Dio’s grudge, and focusing on his field work and thesis, Marina had long exhausted her efforts sitting idly by, to simply wait for Jotaro. Especially, with their seven-year-old daughter recovering from a severe fever a few months ago, that Jotaro wasn’t home for. Marina would no longer stand for any of it. She promised Jotaro that if he dared to leave her unprovoked for the last time, to leave their daughter, she wouldn’t be back if he returned.

Alas, Marina kept to her word; by the time Jotaro had returned a few months later from Morioh, she had already sent him the papers.

Perhaps, Jotaro respected her for that—for having the courage to admit between the two of them that this was no longer working. Jotaro knew he wouldn’t have been able to.

Their marriage was born out of convenience, with Jolyne on the way; it was the only logical step in their relationship.

Now, it was no longer convenient.

“How’s Jolyne handling it?” Holly asked, placing a dish on the dish rack. Jotaro glanced behind him, the echoes of Jolyne’s giggles from the other room ringing in his ears.

“She’s been amazing,” he let out, a little breathy, a small smile in his voice. “She’s handling this better than I thought she would.”

It was hard to explain to Jolyne that Mom and Dad were no longer going to be together, that even though they didn’t love each other anymore, they still loved her. Jolyne had been taking it fairly well. As well as any seven-year-old should be expected to, no child should be going through this. Maybe, even Jolyne could see how their relationship was crumbling even faster than Jotaro could catch on. Jolyne was a perceptive kid, which she frustratingly got from him—Jotaro couldn’t imagine how things must’ve looked on Marina’s end for Jolyne to have such a calm reaction to all of this. Jotaro’s heart clenched a little.

Holly’s frown remained. “You should check up on her,” she said, grabbing another plate. “Kids her age can be really good at hiding things.”

Jotaro’s heart clenched further, his gut twisting in itself. He tried not to think about that; he didn’t want his presumably last trip with Jolyne, not for a long while, to be spent with her upset at him.

“How long are you planning to stay in Japan?” His mother then asked, breaking Jotaro from his thoughts.

Jotaro glanced back down and shrugged. “I don’t know, not long,” he answered. “I need to get back to work soon, and I can’t keep Jolyne away from her mother for too long.”

“Didn’t Marina encourage you to take Jolyne with?”

She was right, Marina was practically bursting that Jotaro took their daughter to Japan, to make up for lost time. For this would be the last time, until Jotaro would be seeing Jolyne less and less. Maybe, a few months ago, he could’ve taken Marina with them.

Jotaro nodded. “I think it’s because she knows I won’t be able to after this,” he let out, slowly. “With work, and things with the Speedwagon Foundation,” Jotaro continued, letting the implications of that hang in the air—how could he when there were still numerous stand-users on every corner ready to attack him? How long would it be until they would learn of Marina or Jolyne and attack them? Jotaro couldn’t stay too long around his daughter; his very presence painted a large red cross on her back, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her being a potential target.

So, maybe the divorce was for the best.

Jotaro would never admit that last part aloud.

“I think they’re holding a lantern festival within the next few days,” Holly said after a while, her face devoid of her normal beaming expression, now fallen into a neutral tone. “You should take Jolyne to one while staying in Japan.”

Jotaro’s brows raised, a little thankful for the change in topic. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

His mother cracked a small smile, yet it wasn’t as beaming as before. “She’s your daughter, I think it’ll do her some good to introduce her to her culture.”

Jotaro’s gaze fell back to the dishes; his grip tightened. “Yeah, alright.”

Tightening the sash at the hip of his yukata, Jotaro tore his gaze away from the full-length mirror in his room as he slid open the shoji door to head out.

As per his mother’s suggestion, they were going to go to the lantern festival held seasonally in their area. Perhaps, in hindsight, it was a good idea. It kept Jolyne distracted from bigger things, as well as allowed her to learn more about her culture, per his mother’s efforts. More importantly, Jotaro could spend more time with her.

Jolyne, in the meanwhile, was getting ready in his mother’s room—Jotaro could hear their laughter echo from the hallways—and he was prepared to wait even longer until Holly had emerged.

“Jotaro, come look at your daughter!” she sing-songed, moving to the side, revealing Jolyne fitted in a colourful yukata. A bright red obi wrapped around the garment, tied into a pretty bow at the back—which was no doubt done by his mother—with Jolyne’s little arms peaking from the loose, giant sleeves. Her dark locks were tamed into a neat bun, with her green fringe left spilling across her forehead. Jolyne had a beaming grin broadening her features, a skip in her step as she pranced towards Jotaro.

“Baa-chan helped me wear this, it’s so pretty!” Jolyne beamed, wide eyes crinkling into a massive smile.

Jotaro couldn’t help himself as a small grin fought to break out from his expression, lips curling up. “You look wonderful, Jolyne.”

A loud giggle overtook Jolyne; she twirled around on her feet in glee before stumbling backwards—luckily, Holly caught her. Her hands grabbed at Jolyne’s shoulders from behind before she revealed a camera. “Come on, let’s take some pictures before you go!”

Neither Jotaro nor Jolyne had any choice before Holly was ushering them towards the shoji door, adjusting them to the perfect position on the tatami mat. Holly backed away slowly, staring at the pair through her camera.

“Ah, JoJo—a little to the right, please!”

Jolyne glanced around, confused, before hesitantly pointing to herself. “Me?”

Holly laughed, and she gently shook her head. “My fault, sweetheart. I meant the other JoJo,” she corrected. “Jotaro, move closer towards your daughter!”

Jotaro did so, shuffling a little towards the right where his hand curled around Jolyne’s little shoulder from above, pulling her closer. Jolyne glanced up at her father with a wide smile. “Perfect!” His mother cried, aiming the camera at the precise angle. “Jolyne, look back here! There you go, now hold that position—“

The sound of the camera shuttering must’ve startled Jolyne, because she jolted a little underneath Jotaro’s palm. Jotaro made soothing motions down her shoulder.

Holly stared at the gallery in the camera, her wide grin unfaltering. “Oh, you look adorable, Jolyne!” she gasped.

“What about me?” Jotaro snarked, an amused look on his face, and both his mother and Jolyne laughed.

“I’m cuter!” Jolyne argued, giggling.

Jotaro cocked a brow, but he couldn’t hide his grin. Neither could his mother, who beamed, “You’ll always be adorable to me, don’t get jealous now!” she joked, reaching to pat Jotaro’s cheek before backing away once more. “Come, come, let’s take more photos!”

Now, Jotaro was sitting on his knees with Jolyne sitting on his shoulders. He held her little legs securely against him, while Jolyne had her arms curling around Jotaro’s face, her chin resting atop his head. He wasn’t sure how truly orthodox this pose was, but he wasn’t going to be the one to argue against his mother. Not when she cried out, “There! Don’t you two look perfect?” So gleefully. Jotaro could feel the vibrations of Jolyne’s cheerful giggles against him, rumbling in her diaphragm as she leaned against her father in utter content. Like, there wasn’t anything else bothering her at that moment.

Jotaro wished she could always be like this. He mimicked her expression, sporting a similar grin—albeit less animated—to the camera, much to his mother’s approval.

The camera shuttered another time.

Hand in hand, Jolyne skipped a little in her step as they walked through the lantern festival.

Up above, the clear sky had darkened into a deep blue midnight, save for speckles of glistening stars sparkling across the horizon. The gentle, aureate glow of the lanterns lined their path, illuminating every stall in sight, as several lines hung across the market in neat, glowing rows. A savoury smell wafted through the market, accompanied by the sizzling of other festival foods being served at the several stalls up ahead. All around, a bumbling chatter overtook the festival—hordes of people crowding near the many stalls, while even more walked around the market, taking in the surroundings. Jotaro clutched onto Jolyne’s hand tightly, the warmth of her tiny hand providing solace from the otherwise chilling breeze of the summer evening, waltzing through his loose clothes, through his dark curls, devoid of his usual hat. If he wasn’t careful, he could lose her amongst the sea of people.

“It’s so pretty!” Jolyne beamed, staring around the festival in awe. Jotaro would’ve hid his grin under his hat, had he not remembered he had forgone it today. Good grief.

“Are you hungry, Jolyne? There’s a lot of food stalls here,” he asked, glancing down at his daughter. Jolyne pranced at the mention of food, nodding enthusiastically—it was good timing too, normally they would’ve had dinner by now.

Jotaro ended up taking them to a takoyaki stand, something he was sure Jolyne would like. As he went to order, the attendant stared at him in even bigger awe—though, with less wonder than Jolyne had harboured, and more… objectifying.

“Your Japanese is excellent, sir!” The attendant exclaimed, “How long have you and your daughter lived here?”

“How much for six pieces,” replied Jotaro, a coldness underlying in his tone. His gaze fell to Jolyne, his American daughter, who seemed to erase any part of his Japanese heritage to this worker, as she clung to his side. Jotaro cocked a brow when the attendant took too long to reply. “Well, how much is it?”

“Oh! Five-hundred yen, sir,” the worker stumbled over his words. Jotaro wordlessly handed him the cash before taking his food and grabbing Jolyne’s hand tightly as he hastily walked away. Perhaps a little too hasty, as Jolyne stumbled a little in her first few steps to adjust to Jotaro’s quickening pace.

Jotaro only clutched her hand tighter.

“Careful, it’s hot,” Jotaro warned, holding a piece of takoyaki to Jolyne’s mouth with a toothpick. Jolyne was eager, trying to take a bite already, but Jotaro tried to slow her roll. “Take a small bite, that way—“

Jolyne put the whole thing in her mouth.

“—That way the steam comes out…” Jotaro trailed, hanging on the last sentence, before his eyes widened in panic. Especially, as Jolyne’s expression contorted into a painful wince as the steaming batter burned her tongue, and a loud cry escaped her. Jotaro placed the box of takoyaki on the bench beside them before hurriedly cupping Jolyne’s mouth with a napkin. “Spit it out, you’re going to burn yourself.”

Yet, Jolyne furrowed her brows in determination. She pushed Jotaro’s hand away, and continued to chew at her mouthful—albeit quickly, to avoid being burned—before hurriedly swallowing.

“That was yummy!” Jolyne cried out, her legs swinging off from the bench in excitement. “Can I have more?”

At that, Jotaro’s expression dissolved into a soft grin, an amused chuckle at her implication. Jolyne was old enough to feed herself, but he wouldn’t ever deny her. Jotaro picked up another piece with the toothpick and held it towards Jolyne. “Small bites,” he warned, and this time, Jolyne listened. She took a smaller bite, the fluffy batter hanging from her lips as a waltz of steam poured from the piece of takoyaki. Jotaro wiped off the smudge of mayonnaise smeared at the corner of Jolyne’s mouth with a napkin before he blew a little cool air at the food, offering more to his daughter.

Then, Jolyne was picking up the other toothpick from the box, skewering a piece of takoyaki onto it before holding it out towards Jotaro. “You should have some!” she said, and she was kicking her little feet again.

Jotaro was utterly powerless in the hands of his daughter—with a smile, he leaned in gently to take a bite from Jolyne, watching as more steam floated from the piping hot takoyaki.

“Is it yummy?” Jolyne asked, tilting her head, and Jotaro couldn’t help the way warmth bloomed in his chest at the sight of his daughter’s gleaming smile. The only source of solace he’d had this entire trip. He took another bite and gently pinched the side of Jolyne’s pudgy cheek. Jolyne scrunched her little nose at him.

“It’s very yummy, thank you,” Jotaro replied, and then Jolyne was skewering another piece, holding it out towards him.

“Have more!” she cried, and who was Jotaro to deny her?

It was the first food that tasted of something.

“Daddy, can you win me something?” Jolyne asked, and Jotaro tore his gaze away from the pathway and towards the various carnival stalls Jolyne was pointing to. Then, at Jolyne, who stared up at him with big, gleaming eyes, lips contorted into a small pout and small chubby hands clinging to his leg.

A soft sigh fell from his lips before a small grin overtook him. “Yeah, alright,” Jotaro agreed. How could anyone say no to that face?

Jolyne grew back her grin, and she cheered. “Yay, thank you!” Jolyne cried out, before she grabbed onto Jotaro’s hand—more so, her entire hand encasing one of his fingers—and she was hurriedly leading him to a ring-toss stand. An array of various stuffed animals lined across the stall, and behind the attendant as he greeted Jotaro with a welcoming grin.

“Care for a chance to win a prize?”

“Yes, yes!” Jolyne answered for him, in Japanese, which had Jotaro and the attendant raising their brows. After trying to get Jolyne to speak Japanese this entire trip, she was suddenly complying. “C’mon, Tou-chan!” she urged, and Jotaro stared at her for a moment before he threw a glare at the vendor to wipe his stupidly awe-struck expression from his face. He could bear it if it was directed at him, but he couldn’t stand the same judgmental look targeting his daughter—from his teachers from high school, from the elders on the train, from these vendors at the stalls.

Once Jotaro reached for his wallet to slide the vendor some cash, he stopped looking at Jolyne with that same judgmental expression that made Jotaro’s skin crawl. Jolyne bounced onto her feet, her hands grabbing at the ledge of the stall, “Win me a big plushie!”

Retrieving the plastic rings from the vendor, Jotaro could only nod. He was going to win big time.

So, Star Platinum manifested behind him, its glowing arm merging into Jotaro’s as he aimed—perhaps, it wasn’t the most ethical thing to do, to cheat, but these stalls were rigged, and the vendor had already pissed him off enough anyway. Jotaro might as well get his money’s worth, and more importantly, not let Jolyne down.

Utilising his stand's excellent precision, Jotaro threw the first ring, and as expected, it landed perfectly on the pin. Jolyne cheered; she bounced even higher onto her toes. “You can do it!”

The second ring flew from Jotaro’s fingers before he could even register, and once more, it perfectly landed around the pin. Both Jolyne and the attendant grew more antsy, staring at Jotaro with intense anticipation and concentration. Maybe Jotaro would ask for that concentration, but he knew he didn’t need it as he threw the third and final ring, and it circled the pin for a moment before landing.

“You won, you won!” Jolyne practically screamed, jumping up and down in her spot, a wide and sparkling grin splayed across her little features.

Jotaro couldn’t help the small grin twitching across his lips, not in accomplishment—seeing as he cheated—but in fulfilment for not letting his daughter down.

“Er, well, I have to congratulate you, sir,” the vendor let out, a hand scratching his nape in a mix of confusion and awe. “Take your pick of any of the prizes here,” he announced, gesturing to the giant plushies surrounding the stall.

Jotaro only glanced down at Jolyne, pointing his chin towards the prizes with a soft grin, and Jolyne had a brief moment of contemplation before she decided. “That one!” Jolyne beamed, pointing towards a giant Pikachu plushie hanging from the top of the stall.

“Ah, good choice!” the vendor cried, reaching up to retrieve the plushie before handing it to Jolyne. It practically was the same size as her, dwarfing her tiny frame as she held it against her. “I must say, your Japanese is spectacular. Have you stayed here long—?”

“Let’s go, Jolyne,” Jotaro interrupted, grabbing Jolyne—and the plushie, tucking it under his arm—and walking off.

Jolyne didn’t protest, only sparing a lingering glance behind them as she followed her father.

Many people gathered around the railing leading to the river, as this was where the fireworks show was about to commence. Jotaro was lucky he had managed to grab a spot at the front—or, maybe unlucky with the way a few people kept pressing against him—the coolness of the metal railing pressing against his skin.

“Daddy,” Jolyne squeezed out, clinging onto his leg amongst the sea of people and Jotaro’s eyes widened. He lifted Jolyne onto his hip, away from the pressing crowd, distributing her weight between his sturdy forearm and the edge of the railing. He held onto Jolyne’s legs with his other arm, making sure she was secure, and Jolyne’s gaze fell to the flowing river below them. It looked like a deep, dark void in this darkness. Jolyne clung harder to Jotaro. “What if I fall?”

“I won’t let you,” Jotaro assured, pulling Jolyne closer towards him. He pointed towards the sky, “Look up, the fireworks are about to start.”

So, Jolyne did. She nestled even closer towards Jotaro, probably to steal his warmth amongst the biting cold, head leaning against his clavicle.

Then, the first firework shot up into the sky, illuminating the darkness surrounding the festival away from the lanterns. The crowd erupted into gasps and cheers, and Jolyne gasped aloud against him, eyes widening at the sight. “Woah!” she cried out, gaze following the sparkles of light disintegrating in the sky. “That was so cool!” Jolyne grinned, and Jotaro only hummed, urging her to keep watching as more fireworks shot up from below. Bursts of fleeting colour flashed and exploded across darkening sky, the vivid, glowing colours reflecting off in the river underneath—the brightness competing with the glimmering stars that decorated the vast skies. Before the fireworks could fizzle out, more were being shot up in the sky, the high-pitched noise of the firework ascending higher across the sky before exploding with a bang, sizzling around in the darkness.

“Everything’s so pretty,” Jolyne gasped in awe, her head tilted up towards the sky. “This is so much fun!”

A small smile flickered across Jotaro’s lips. He tilted his head against Jolyne’s as he took in the show, the strands of her green fringe tickling against his chin. His mother was right; he had never enjoyed himself more in the past few months, and Jotaro was just as glad that Jolyne shared that same contentment.

“Do you think the beach has fireworks?” Jolyne then asked, glancing up at her father.

At that, Jotaro paused. Jolyne had really been counting on the idea of a beach trip when, truthfully, it was a passing promise Jotaro had forgotten about when he initially pitched the idea of taking her to Japan with him. He didn’t know when, or if he would even have the time to take Jolyne to the beach, but it seemed to be the only thing her mind clung to.

“I don’t know, I guess we’ll find out,” Jotaro replied, emptily, and Jolyne only grinned.

Suddenly, Jotaro pulled her close, pressing a small kiss to her temple, a hand cupping Jolyne’s pudgy cheek. Jolyne’s smile grew wider, the skin of her eyes crinkling against Jotaro’s lips pressed against her, and then she giggled, content. Jotaro knew he was running on borrowed time, that despite the utter contentment settling within him, it wouldn’t wash over the unease rattling deep in his bones, the feeling that this was temporary. Holding his daughter in his arms, feeling the softness of her cheek pressing against his own, the soft tufts of her fringe grazing his lips, the thrumming of her little heartbeat against him, full of love—Jotaro ingrained every moment of this into his memory. He didn’t know how long Jolyne would stay this little for.

“I love you, Daddy,” Jolyne whispered to him, like it was a secret between the two of them. Still small, with pudgy cheeks bunching up in her smile and big, beaming eyes looking up at her father like he held the world in his hands. Amongst the roaring crowd and the booming fireworks.

I love you. Jotaro smiled at her, and he pressed another kiss to her cheek, his lips staying there for a moment, eyes falling shut.

He didn’t know how long Jolyne would love him for.

A cluster of papers overfilled the table. Jotaro held back a groan, eyes squinting. His gaze began to skip reading and slip into skimming as he scanned over the text printed on the pages.

Meanwhile, his mother hummed a lowly tune she must’ve heard from the radio or something as she folded the piles of laundry from the basket on the floor from the couch. It was a gentle yet comfortable silence—though Jotaro would debate if he was comfortable—until Jolyne’s thudding footsteps cut through the quietness. She burst through the living room.

“Daddy!” Jolyne cried out before catching Holly’s gaze. “Tou-chan!” she corrected herself. “Can I play outside with the other kids, please?”

Jotaro paused, and he could hear the cheerful cries from the children outside—he was surprised he could hear them from this far, seeing how far the mansion stretched. “Alright,” Jotaro said, “Be careful.”

“Honey, why don’t you take her there?” His mother suggested, folding a pair of socks. “Jolyne isn’t familiar with the area; it’s best if you keep watch.”

“I’m busy with these papers—“ Jotaro began, but his mother was giving him a look, her grin a little too tight across her face.

Jotaro opened his mouth, glancing down at his papers, then at Jolyne, where his mouth closed. He couldn’t argue with his mother. So, begrudgingly, Jotaro rose from his seat at the table and sighed out, “Let’s go, Jolyne.” Jolyne beamed. She was prancing as Jotaro left his work behind and led her just outside of their house, where the neighbourhood kids ran along the street—Jolyne joined them, a wide grin on her face.

Jotaro sighed softly to himself and watched from afar. At Jolyne’s grinning face, at the cries of the neighbourhood kids chasing her, before they learnt what gaijin meant, what it even mattered, that it was something to be mocked. His mother didn’t have to say anything, but Jotaro could sense the bubbling disapproval behind her beaming grin at Jolyne’s lack of Japanese, at Jotaro’s lacklustre teaching—constantly encouraging Jolyne to speak Japanese as opposed to only understanding it, remedying her mistakes each time she slipped into English. It was more work than Jotaro was putting in.

Yet, back in America, whatever was left of Jolyne’s Japanese heritage would be squashed in favour of being American. Tou-chan would become Dad, and Japanese would be a forgotten thing on her tongue—curling uselessly around the vowels and consonants she would never use.

Jotaro remembered Egypt, what it felt like to no longer be a gaijin. He remembered showing Polnareff that trick with the five cigarettes in India, he remembered Kakyoin’s weird and obscure facts around the waiting culture in Hong Kong, he remembered the sparkling night sky in Saudi Arabia, the gentle desert breeze wafting through his thick uniform jacket. The sense of belonging he had never felt before.

Then, that feeling was crushed before it could ever fully bloom—Kakyoin’s withered body hanging lifelessly from the water tower in Cairo. Avdol not even leaving a body behind, all but his arms engulfed by the void. Gushes of crimson blood pouring from his grandfather’s neck, his weak protests falling uselessly from his lips for Jotaro not to inch a step closer.

Dio looming over him, a cruel and mocking grin splaying across his sinister expression, before the world would stop.

Jotaro was never meant for domesticity, for any of this. How could he live a normal life after that? With Jolyne, fearing for her life at every pressing turn and moment as long as Dio’s legacy remained. She deserved better than that—she deserved a father who wasn’t Jotaro, a bloodline that wasn’t cursed, a more stable family.

Jolyne deserved better.

Then, Jotaro was broken away from his thoughts by the sound of the ground scraping, then a wailing cry piercing his ears. His eyes widened, and Jolyne was lying on the ground, tears streaming down her face, the neighbourhood kids surrounding her.

Jotaro’s heart was pounding inside his chest as he rushed over to her side, discovering she had scraped her knee as he knelt. Jolyne wept and sobbed, her hands clutched into little fists over her eyes, and Jotaro didn’t spare any of the children a mere glance as he immediately picked his daughter up and brought her back inside.

At the sight of Jolyne’s dishevelled face, Holly gasped. “What happened?”

Jotaro placed Jolyne down on a chair, setting down a first-aid kit on the table beside her. Jolyne had stopped crying at this point, but small gasps and sniffles escaped her, pudgy cheeks still stained with tears that continued to rush down her face. “She fell on the pavement,” Jotaro explained, shakily tearing open a packet of antiseptic wipes.

“This is going to hurt a little. Be brave,” Jotaro told Jolyne, who tearfully nodded.

When the antiseptic wipe came into contact with her scraped knee, Jolyne burst into tears all over again. “It hurts!” she sobbed, trying to bend her knee away, but Jotaro wouldn’t let her.

“Jotaro, you’re being too rough,” Holly cried out, but Jotaro couldn’t stop right now, digging the wipe deeper into the cut. If he left this unattended, the bacteria could seep into Jolyne’s bloodstream, which could lead to an infection, she could go into sepsis, and die. A little pain would be a small exchange for the elimination of that risk. Jolyne cried harder, trying to wriggle her knee out of Jotaro’s grasp, but Jotaro only held onto her leg tighter.

“Jotaro, stop!” Then, his mother was ushering him out of his seat to take over. Jotaro stumbled back, a man of his stature, stumbling back.

Holly wiped at Jolyne’s crying face with a gentle hand, a thumb stroking down her cheekbone. “I know, honey. I know it hurts, but bear with it a little, okay?” his mother reassured, yet it did nothing to cease Jolyne’s terrified tremble, which Jotaro caused. “You don’t want this to get infected. I’ll be gentle.”

Jolyne’s eyes were still wide from fear, ragged breaths wracking her little lungs. She hesitantly nodded, staring at Holly’s gentle expression—a gentleness Jotaro could never wield.

So, his mother took out another wipe, gently cleaning Jolyne’s knee from any leftover blood and gravel. As well as wiping her hands. Jolyne was brave, her bottom lip tightly curled between her teeth as Holly tended to her scrape, a glittery line of tears brimming in her eyes and silently falling down her cheeks.

“Okay! You’re all cleaned up,” his mother cheered. “Thank you for being brave, Jolyne.”

Jolyne only sniffled, sparing her a small grin, and Holly returned the gesture before turning back to Jotaro. “I need to throw these wipes away. Why don’t you put a bandage on Jolyne?”

Jotaro didn’t have a choice in the matter because his mother had already gotten up and stepped out of the living room, leaving him alone with his daughter. Jolyne looked up at him expectantly, big eyes glimmering with tears and pudgy cheeks flushed and blotchy—Jotaro knelt back down in front of Jolyne.

Placing a Hello Kitty bandage over Jolyne’s knee, Jotaro smoothed out the material gently with his fingers, trying to hide the inexplicable tremble. “Mama usually kisses my cuts better,” Jolyne let out into the silence, and Jotaro glanced up at her, at Jolyne’s sheepish smile despite the leftover tears spilling onto her lower lashes, soft sniffles wracking her tiny body. Despite Jotaro hurting her, Jolyne still loved him.

Jotaro didn’t know how much of that was true, but he did so anyway, pressing a small kiss to Jolyne’s knee over her bandage.

Jolyne then held out her hands with the same expectant twinkle in her eye, the skin of her palms scraped from where she caught herself on the pavement. Jotaro pressed a kiss to both of her palms, his lips staying there for a moment before he pulled away. He still held onto Jolyne’s hands with both of his—her entire chubby hand curling around his fingers—she was so small and fragile.

Then, Jolyne was pointing to her cheek, a cheeky grin curling up her lips. Jotaro cocked a brow, but he leaned in anyway, pressing a small kiss to her cheek. Jotaro wiped at her blotchy face, brushing away the tufts of her fringe that stuck to her skin. Jolyne giggled against him, her legs kicking up on the chair before she jumped to her feet. “I feel so much better now!” she exclaimed with such energy that Jotaro would’ve forgotten she had just fallen over moments ago.

“Thanks, Tou-chan!” Jolyne smiled, and she was about to run back out, and Jotaro wanted to stop her, about to grab her hand, until—

“Go back out, honey. I’m sure your friends miss you,” Holly assured, emerging back into the living room, “Just be careful.” Jolyne didn’t need to be told twice; she rushed back outside, out through the sliding door.

Standing up, Jotaro threw his mother a look—well, as disapproving as he could since being a teenager. Holly said nothing as she cleaned up the first aid kit, flipping the lid back onto the top. “She’s going to get hurt regardless. What will she do when you’re not there?”

At that, Jotaro paused. Where had this come from? This was the first time he had ever heard a disapproving retort from his mother since he was a child. Her chastising him.

Holly continued, “Jolyne loves you so much, she feels for you.” She paused to look back at Jotaro. “How do you expect her to grow up not having her father be there for her like she needs?”

And she sounded just like Marina. Jotaro didn’t know how to respond.

“Dad was never there,” he simply replied, reasoned, staring down at his hands.

His mother let out a noise that Jotaro could only describe as a scoff. A scoff. From his mother. “Were you ever okay with it? You used to cry every night, asking when he’d come home,” she recalled, and Jotaro bit the inside of his cheek, his hands curling into a tight fist at the memory. To be seven-years-old and sit by the front door, staring up at his mother, asking when Tou-chan would next be back. “Do you want that for Jolyne?”

Jotaro didn’t say anything, tongue lame in his mouth. He didn’t know what his mother thought about his father’s prolonged absence due to his tours, or if she ever harboured any anger or resentment about it—to Jotaro, his mother had always been her happy and bubbly self. Yet, Jotaro saw the way her hand gripped tightly onto the first-aid kit.

His mother took in a deep breath to collect her words. “Jotaro, you have done so much for your family,” she began slowly, tearing her gaze away from the box to look at her son. Really look at him—her brows upturned in desperation and eyes wide. “You’ve been sacrificing yourself since you were seventeen, but you cannot live the rest of your life this way. You’re no longer the same person since then, you have a daughter who thinks the world of you, and you have to be there for her.”

Jotaro couldn’t bear to look at her any longer. He tore his gaze away, “But what if Dio—“

“And what if something happens to her while you’re not there?” Holly interrupted, “You haven’t told her or Marina about anything at all.”

Jotaro’s nails dug into his palm from his clenched fist; his next breath was shaky as he breathed in. “This isn’t their problem. They never asked for this.”

“And neither did you, Jotaro. You were a child, and Jolyne is even littler,” Holly explained softly. She slid away the first-aid kit on the table and stepped closer towards Jotaro, who still couldn’t meet her gaze. A man who had killed enemies with his bare hands, saw the horrors of his friends falling to Dio, Jotaro couldn’t look his mother in the eye. Her expression would hurt in a way his wounds never did. “What will happen if she were to ever encounter a stand-user, and her father isn’t there for her?”

Jotaro was silent, brows furrowed together.

“I know you want to protect her, but leaving her behind might do more harm than good,” his mother reasoned—though Jotaro could tell she was clearly holding back from expressing her thoughts to the fullest, kept away behind that tightened tone. Then, Holly landed the killing blow.

“This has cost you your marriage, do you want it to cost Jolyne as well?”

Jotaro froze. If he wasn’t already still before, then he was now. Those words—the realisation thrummed through his icy bloodstream, crystallising in his veins.

He still refused to look up.

A gentle breeze wafted through the open shoji door and into the room as Jotaro sat on the front porch outside the garden.

Up ahead, the night sky was once again speckled with an array of glimmering stars and flickering lights—shimmering in the reflection of the pond, the slow ripples warping the view. Jotaro leaned back on his palms, his bare feet gliding against the wood of the front porch, the wind catching against his loose trousers, into his dark tufts unprotected by his hat. The soft flowing of the stream ran down the fountain, the humming of the cicadas reverberating throughout the garden. It got so alarmingly quiet during the night—almost unsettling—Jotaro had grown used to the bustling cars and the screaming traffic during the nights in Florida. To be in his childhood home in Tokyo, secluded from the rest of the city, it filled Jotaro with a sense of silence that unease couldn’t help but sprout within the absence of noise.

Next to him were the papers Marina had sent, detailing their divorce. The edges lifted and frayed in the breeze. Jotaro took the papers and placed them behind the porch, into the room.

He remembered their wedding day; they had a traditional Japanese wedding, per Marina's suggestion, and Jotaro didn't care enough to protest. Marina was dressed in a beautifully silk-white kimono, the elaborate layers flowing around her like silken rivers. A stunning flower pin adorned her golden tresses, tied carefully into a styled bun, as her golden tufts framed around her radiant features, curled and styled. She stared up at Jotaro, a deepening flush blooming across her features and her blue eyes shimmering—like the sparkling ocean Jotaro adored, the glistening waves gently lapping and tumbling over each other.

At that moment, Jotaro felt what he thought was the closest to being in love.

Now, he stared at his silver wedding band, glimmering in the moonlight falling gently above him. The metal felt so hollow now.

To love someone, for Jotaro, wasn’t what most envisioned in a traditional sense, and maybe that was his fatal flaw. Jotaro didn’t love Marina as most husbands would love their wife—or, ex-wife—Jotaro loved Marina in his own way. He loved her for giving him their daughter; no woman could’ve done what she did, and he would continue to love her for the rest of his life for that.

Yet, Marina deserved more than that; she deserved a husband who would love her for all of her, not for how much she could tolerate him.

Love, for Jotaro, was measured in how much they could tolerate him, how long it would take until they would be pushed out, or leave on their own accord. Marina had—rightfully—already left, and it wouldn’t take long until Jolyne would. Maybe, not now, but Jotaro knew it would only be a matter of time. Anybody he grew close to would be ripped away, either their own life altogether, or from Jotaro’s own actions.

When Jotaro closed his eyes, he could still see Kakyoin and Avdol’s eyes peering into him from above.

The soft thudding of footsteps startled Jotaro from his thoughts, and when he glanced behind him, Jolyne was there. Still dressed in her sleepwear for today, hair tousled and eyes squinted with tiredness. Yet, with a fragile expression that could break at any moment.

“Jolyne?” Jotaro fully turned around, “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Daddy?” Jolyne let out instead. Not Tou-chan, despite Holly’s ushering, Daddy. Jotaro didn’t chastise her, not when her voice sounded so small. “I’m scared.”

At that, Jotaro’s eyes widened. He ushered Jolyne to come closer towards him, where she sat down on the porch, leaning against his side. Jotaro curled an arm around his daughter, pulling her close.

“Why are you scared?”

Jolyne nuzzled her cheek against Jotaro’s chest, staring down at her hands, which were splayed across her lap. “A girl in my class has parents who aren’t together anymore,” she began, absentmindedly flexing her fingers in her little hand. “She doesn’t see her dad anymore.”

Then, Jolyne was staring up at him, tentatively. “Will you also go away?” 

Jotaro paused, his words stuck in his throat for a moment—at Jolyne’s shimmering gaze—before clearing it. This was the first time Jolyne had said anything about the divorce, about her fears; Jotaro would always reassure her. “Jolyne, I won’t be here all the time, but you’ll still see me,” he explained gently, running a hand down Jolyne’s arm affectionately. “Like this, you’ll be safer with your mother—“

“No!” Jolyne cried out, eyes wide. Jotaro slowly cocked a brow.

“No?”

Jolyne scrambled out of her father’s hold, standing up from the porch in front of him. Her breath was trembling, “You haven’t taken me to the beach yet!” she cried out, and Jotaro opened his mouth to say something, but Jolyne interrupted him, tears brimming in her eyes, “You haven’t taught me about all the different types of starfish yet, you haven’t taken me swimming yet—“

“Jolyne—“

“And you haven’t taught me to ride a bike yet, you haven’t taken me to Disney World yet, you haven’t taken me to prom yet,” Jolyne continued, her voice growing higher and higher as she held back a sob. But it tore past her lips regardless, a truly broken sound, and Jolyne hid her face in her little hands as tears began to rush down her blotchy cheeks.

“Daddy, I-I love you. Please don’t go,” Jolyne let out weakly.

Jolyne was sobbing, her little frame wracked with sobs that were way too heavy for her, crying her eyes out. Her entire body trembled from head to toe, ragged breaths and sounds escaping her as she cried into her palms, glistening tears dripping from between her fingers and onto the wooden porch, and all Jotaro could do was watch.

Utter disbelief and guilt twisted in his tender gut—how could he not realise how badly Jolyne was taking the divorce? His mind flickered back to the lantern festival, where Jolyne had witnessed the way the vendors looked at him when he switched to Japanese, the scrutiny and judgment underneath their thinly-veiled smiles. The way Jolyne had switched to Japanese on her own accord as she faced the same difficulties as her father to prove her heritage, to blend in with a society that already saw her as an outsider. Gaijin. Had Jotaro been inadvertently teaching Jolyne his own bad behaviours? To repress and repress her own feelings for the convenience of everyone around her, for Jotaro’s convenience, because he would rather pretend nothing was wrong than acknowledge the gravity in his decisions. To acknowledge how much it had been affecting his daughter.

How long had Jolyne truly been holding this in?

Jotaro’s hand trembled as he tried to reach for his daughter, at her shaky form, but found he couldn’t. Why the hell did he want to leave so badly? Ever since Jolyne was born, all Jotaro wanted to do was to protect her; he knew as much, and his mother knew as much. Jotaro loved her; he loved her so much, but was leaving her worth missing out on her growing up? His only one daughter in the entire world.

Jotaro’s arm lunged forward to wrap tightly around Jolyne, pulling her close to his chest, where she muffled her trembling sobs into his shirt. Jotaro wrapped both of his arms around his daughter—holding her so tightly against him he feared that she’d disappear if he didn’t.

“I won’t go,” Jotaro whispered into Jolyne’s hair, pressing a long and loving kiss to her forehead. “I won’t.”

Jolyne sniffled against him, her little arms wrapping around Jotaro as much as she could—damp and pudgy cheek smushing against his chest as she sat in his lap. Jotaro ran a shaky hand down Jolyne’s mess of dark locks cascading down her back, pressing as many soft kisses as possible to the crown of her head. Each an I love you, an I'm sorry. To make up for lost time, and any time he would struggle to keep thereafter.

Maybe it was cruel, to hold a promise that Jotaro had no idea if he could keep. He had never been good at keeping promises.

But he sure as hell was going to try for this one.