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"Meet me exact one week later at this cafe by 3 pm"
"But what's the issue?"
"I will tell you when you finally meet me"
"Uhhh fine"
And the landline was cut off, indicating the end of the call. If this was any other call he would have took it easily.
But this was Kujo Jotaro's call
And it was meant that it's an emergency and that too a dangerous one. Something that Jotaro himself, who actually killed the most evil creature anyone could think of, couldn't handle it.
He still remembers the last time he met him.It was exactly a year after the defeat of DIO, when they were informed of the stand arrows by SPW Foundation. This was meant that they could never even get rid of their past no matter what.
And now he wonders if something worse happened.
He even fears think about it
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
One week after, 1992, and the Miami heat was a thick, humid blanket that made Polnareff’s silk shirt cling to his back.
As he was walking through the beachside road where all the snack shops and cafes on one side and palm-lined on the other, with the roaring waves and whirring of rollerbladers, Polnareff's mind constantly filled with the worst case scenario he could find himself in.
'What if an enemy Stand user tracked him to the university?' he worried, dodging a kid on a skateboard. 'What if someone found another Arrow? No, it has to be worse. What if DIO left behind some kind of biological curse? A flesh bud dormant for four years, finally waking up in Jotaro’s brain?!'
Crossing the road he bumped into an old man. 'If Jotaro is compromised, if he’s trapped or bleeding out in some backroom because he wouldn't ask for help until the last second... I swear to God, Jotaro, don't you dare die on me in Florida!' He passed through the old man who was shouting at deaf ears.
Taking a turn he see the destinated cafeteria, the one where he was suppose to meet him.
It was a small and relatively new cafe with all the new posters and banners containing the discount coffees they are providing. He swallowed dryly, his Adam's apple bobbing erratically as the paranoia took hold. His palm sweats as he unlocked the door to meet the icy waves of air conditioners hit with the aroma of grinded coffee beans. The coastal blue color aesthetic with the bright sunshine from the big glasses gave
the room a brilliant, airy glow, casting long shadows across the polished floor and booths where the wealthy locals sat. The peaceful surrounding makes his raging paranoia feel completely out of place. He scanned the room until his eyes finally locked onto his quarry.
The very subject of his dread.
He saw Jotaro occupying one of the booths reading some book, not bothered by his surrounding. Beside him was a basket looking object resting on the sofa.
'Is this the thing he was talking about? God I am not ready for this.'
He slowing walk towards him, catches the speed and swiftly slides into the opposite sofa. He voiced in a hushed, urgent whisper, "Jotaro! Thank God you are fine. I was so worried about you. Who we are suppose to fight this time? Did they found new-"
"Polnareff," Jotaro interrupted. His voice wasn’t sharp; it was actually quieter than usual. "Good. You’re here."
"Well, don't keep me in suspense! Who are we fighting? What's the threat?"
Jotaro didn't answer. Instead, he reached down beside him and lifted a small, pastel-colored bundle out of the bask- no a carry cot. With a gentleness that seemed almost alien to a man who had punched a hole through a vampire, he shifted the fabric to reveal a tiny, sleeping face.
"This," Jotaro said, his gaze fixed downward, "is Jolyne."
Polnareff froze, as if the time stopped. His mouth stayed open, a retort about Stand range dying in his throat. He blinked, looked at the baby, then back up at the man who had faced death without blinking. The infant had a shock of dark hair and was clutching a small fist against her cheek. She could not be more than two months old, smelling of milk and baby powder rather than the ozone and grit of a Stand battle. He looked back at the man who was watching the breathing of the baby with no glare, no harsh piercing but with soft, quiet and maybe exhausted expression—the kind that usually comes from sleepless nights and not from the life and death combat.
A sudden wave of clarity washing over him that made his own chest tighten.
'He’s just a kid', Polnareff realized, the thought striking him with the force of a physical blow. 'Mon Dieu, he’s only twenty-one.'
For years, Polnareff had looked at Jotaro as an invincible pillar—a stoic, unshakeable force who carried the fate of the world on his shoulders without a single complaint. It was easy to forget that while they were fighting for their lives in the Egyptian desert, Jotaro had been a teenager. He had been forced to grow up at supersonic speed, wrapping himself in a cold, unyielding armor just to survive the nightmare DIO had thrust upon his family.
But looking at him now, sitting in a sunlit Florida cafe with milk stains on his sleeve and a tiny baby girl holding his thumb, the legendary "Star Platinum" facade completely evaporated. Beneath the terrifying reputation and the unapproachable aura, Jotaro Kujo is just a normal young man. A twenty-one-year-old college student who is entirely out of his depth, terrified, and quietly, overwhelmingly happy to be a father.
Polnareff’s shoulders collapsed, and the breath he had been holding captive in his lungs since he left France finally broke free. It came out as a long, ragged sigh. He dragged a hand down his face, the frantic adrenaline draining from his veins so fast it left him feeling slightly lightheaded.
"Mon Dieu, Jotaro..." Polnareff muttered, his voice dropping from a frantic, paranoid clip to a breathless, disbelieving whisper. He sink into the wicker chair opposite his friend, the air still whistling past his lips as he is trying to ground himself in this shockingly peaceful reality.
He looked once again at the young Kujo who is still sleeping, with no signing of fear and completely stress-free from the world's misery.
"So, how is she?"
The low voice snapped Polnareff back to reality. His eyes widened as he looked at the older Kujo, catching a rare glint in Jotaro's eyes and a faint, trace of a smile—the kind of expression that anyone else on the planet would have missed entirely.
"She is... perfect, Jotaro," Polnareff said softly, a brilliant smile finally breaking across his face as he looked down at the bundle. A low, breathy sound escaped Jotaro—a quiet “Mh-mh,” that was as close to a real laugh as he ever got.
"Welcome to the world, little JoJo."
"YOU HAD SEX WITH A WOMAN!!"