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I don't think I've ever told you how I chose your name.
Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever told you about my trip to Egypt to save your grandmother.
Or that summer when I helped your uncle Josuke fight the aftermath of my mistakes.
Or all those trips away from you, when you finally needed me and I maybe needed to go back home
I always hoped that day would never come, but maybe I should have at least told you about those moments I spent with Kakyoin, Iggy, Avdol, Polnareff and your Grandpa Joseph. Pretty sure they would have adored you, if they had the chance to stay a little longer.
I think I should have told you everything—about you, about me, and about our family. I should have taught you so many things, instead of always pulling away to protect you from...me.
1987
I couldn't fall asleep, that night.
We'd been driving toward Pakistan for a few hours, switching drivers at every stop to give Gramps and Polnareff a chance to rest from driving.
From my seat up front, all I could see was the small, deserted road, visible only by the headlights; if any animal wanted to cross our path, it was welcome to do so. The road was bumpy, and the jolts usually jolted me out of my drowsiness.
When I turned to look at my companions, I could see they were as desperate for sleep as I : if it weren't for Gramps antics, we would have finally been able to sleep in a bed.
Kakyoin was doodling in his notebook, sometimes starring in emptiness out of weariness before snapping back, while Polnareff was balancing between the shock of his encounter with Empress user and the grief of Avdol's "death".
Our trip was dragging on, so much so that we rarely talked about how much time Mom had left.
My only pastime was gazing up at the sky, where I could make out every star clearly. For a moment, I felt like a child marveling at the immensity of the sky, which seemed almost purple to me because it was so bright.
What bothered me most during my weary observation was Gramps, who had been humming the same song for hours. He was driving with his headphones plugged into his Walkman, the volume so loud that I could hear the guitar chords over and over again. His high-pitched voice annoyed me, and he noticed.
“What’s wrong now, Jotaro?” he said with a feigned cheerfulness that masked his fatigue.
“You sing badly,” I grumbled.
“You don’t know anything about music,” he teased me.
He laughed when I didn't answer. Despite the dim light of night, I could clearly make out his gloved hand as he slipped the cassette into the car's player.
“Listen to this,” Gramps said with a proud smile as he pressed the “play” button.
As the opening chords played, he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He looked straight ahead, singing “I’m begging of you, please don’t take my man” with feigned despair. He nudged me when I turned back toward the window, trying to ignore him.
But no, Dolly Parton’s voice was impossible to silence as she described the beauty of “Jolene.” Gramps’s voice was just as impossible to ignore as he matched his singing to the woman’s anguish.
“He talks about you in his sleep, And there’s nothing I can do to keep from crying when he calls your name, Jolene,” he bellowed, exaggerating the word “crying” before laughing just as loudly.
Behind me, I could hear Kakyoin laughing amusedly while Polnareff tapped on my seat with renewed enthusiasm. Gramps turned his head toward him, and the two of them began singing the high-pitched chorus again with renewed energy. The Frenchman put a hand on my shoulder and shook me, and I sank deeper into my seat.
They were singing so loudly that for a moment I thought the car windows would shatter, and the echo of their voices surely reverberated through the deserted outdoors.
After several long minutes of this torture, the chords faded out and Gramps exhaled contently before turning to me with a big smile.
“It’s addictive, isn’t it?”
“Since when have you been a country music fan?” I replied.
“Never—it’s just a good song. The story of a desperate woman.”
"I must say, Jolene gotta be one pretty girl," Polnareff joked and Kakyoin shook his hand in agreement.
"Don't even start..." I mumbled
Polnareff exchanged a glance with Kakyoin, who quickly nodded.
I should have suspected something when they fell silent, but I started to doze off a little. Suddenly, Polnareff leaned over and pressed the car’s button again, while Kakyoin was screaming the song right into my ears.
Gramps joined in, and the three of them sang along, poking me as they did.
The old man turned his attention to the road and drove in silence. Both our friends had found a renewed tiredness, and soon I could hear their snoring. I felt my eyelids growing heavy, and my brain began to shut off, as it repeated in loop the insufferable "Jolene" chorus.
“It’s a beautiful name, though…” Gramps thought aloud.
A few days later, while we were aboard the submarine, Polnareff mentioned it to Avdol, who also followed to annoy me.
I admit that during those moments, I truly smiled. Sometimes I think back on it, and their smiles soothe all the bad times that followed.
Somehow, it became kind of our song.
For the rest of the trip, it wasn't uncommon for one of my friends to hum the song without even realizing it. Maybe sometimes I did it, too. And the rest of the group would laugh at it, teasing me and bullying me about it.
Maybe I still do it. Maybe to remind myself those memories exist.
1992
I waited on a chair for hours, clasping my hands between my legs.
My mother rested one hand on the armrest of the seat next to me.
A few hours ago, your mother was admitted to the hospital and labor had begun.
To tell you the truth, she was smiling as she told me everything would be fine, even though her grip was so tight I thought I was going to lose my hand. But I didn’t hear any screams—she had a bad habit of enduring things that caused her pain.
The family was there, of course. Your Grandpa Joseph was standing in the hospital waiting room, his eyes shining with happiness and eagerness to see his great-granddaughter. I think that was also the exact moment I realized just how old he was getting...
“Are you sure you don’t want to be with her?” Mom smiled at me.
I must have looked at her like an idiot, because she and your Grandma Suzie exchanged an exasperated glance.
“Men…” Grandma Suzie sighed.
A doctor arrived, looking relieved. I don’t know why, but I stayed seated while everyone else stood up. My legs wouldn’t obey me—I was so scared.
“Your wife and daughter are doing well, Mr. Kujo,” she smiled at me. “If you’d like to follow me…”
All eyes turned to me, and for a moment I thought I was glued to that damn chair.
When I walked into the hospital room, you had already stopped crying. Your mother smiled at me when a nurse asked if I wanted to see you.
“Go ahead,” your mother whispered to me, and my heart ached at the sight of her exhaustion.
So I stepped closer, and I saw you. I felt ashamed that my first instinct was to check if you had the same birthmark as me.
You did.
“Jojo…” your mother smiled, and I turned around, thinking she was talking to me.
Her eyes were brimming with tears of joy as we held you between us on her bed, but I couldn’t believe you’d inherited that nickname so quickly.
“What’s her name?” a midwife asked us, and we exchanged a quick, bewildered glance.
And so, you were stuck with "Jojo" for a few days.
When I got home after a few nights at the maternity ward, I spent hours searching for a name, arguing with Gramps, who wanted you to have a beautiful name that started with “Jo.”
I’d told him I was afraid you’d become a little too much like us, and that day, we agreed never to mention Egypt or DIO unless absolutely necessary.
“Both the name and fate of the Joestars will be buried,” he promised me, but the sorrow in his eyes didn’t ease my mind.
When I returned to the maternity ward, I found your mother singing you a song while she held you in her arms.
“Your beauty is beyond compare, with flaming locks of auburn hair, with ivory skin, and eyes of emerald green,” she sang, tracing you face with her finger.
She laughed softly, while I felt as if the ground were giving way beneath my feet.
"Jolyne..." she sang out before smiling brighter than ever at me, "What do you think, Jotaro?"
"You like that song, Jojo! You were humming—stop lying,” Polnareff’s voice told me, and my mind transported me to Kakyoin’s hospital room, where we went almost every day.
“Stop teasing him a little, Polnareff,” Avdol laughed, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You sing very well, Jotaro,” he added to amuse the rest of the group.
My throat tightened, and I pulled my daughter into my arms. She could open her eyes now, and they were a beautiful green. I smiled and forced myself to keep a clear head, even as my memories haunted me.
It’s a beautiful name, though....
“Jolyne. Kujo Jolyne,” I decided. “That’s your name.”
I don’t know why, but whenever you cried as a child, all it had to do was sing this song to you, and you’d calm down. I never dared to do it, and your mother would feel hurt about it. Like I've said, she has a bad habit of enduring painful things.
After you were born, I sent a letter to Polnareff. He told me he was very happy with that name, and that one day you’d be as beautiful as the woman in that song. To him, it was like a legacy lived on with you. Our friends' sacrifices were so that you'd live protected and away from harm.
He would have liked to meet you; he told me so. But, as our story goes, he happened to be in Italy at the wrong time...
1999
I think your mother called me a lot when I was in Morioh. You had a fever, and I couldn't come see you—our family needed me, you'll learn that they have a habit of doing this a lot.
But you know, I was worried about your uncle Josuke. I think that's why I came.
When I saw him, I thought it was my chance to secure your future—to convince myself that maybe you’d be able to have a normal life. That whole arrow business just brought back memories of DIO. And seeing him only reminded me that I was too young when I went through that adventure.
Nobody could run away from our fate.
Sometimes, I’d watch him goofing around with all his friends. He had this incredible ability to feel everything intensely, from anger to joy, but I think you know that, you always got along with Josuke.
I’d have a sort of flashback of myself, which scared me. Then, I’d have a vision of you with friends and your beaming smile. That’s what I wanted for you, so when you didn’t awaken your Stand, I was relieved.
And I walked away. Because I wanted to guarantee that future for you.
I told Josuke my story. Because he just kept insisting.
I told him about you, too.
“Is she in Japan?” he asked me, surprised.
We were on the beach in front of my hotel in Morioh. I loved that place, and he would sometimes see Gramps, Shizuka, and me there.
“No,” I replied, gazing at the horizon. “Why?”
“You’re really a strange father, you know,” he grimaced. “Well, not that I know much about fathers, but… You worry too much.”
He then scratched his head, as if he’d said too much. I smiled, and that’s when he became an integral part of our family, and when he, too, began to love you and sing for you.
I remember him carrying you on his shoulders when he'd come visit while cheerfully singing, "Your smile is like a breath of spring, your skin is soft like summer rain, and I can't compete with you, Jolene."
After that summer, I went home. That’s when your mother realized I’d been hiding a lot from her. You’d been sick for days, and I didn’t answer the phone even once. I tried my best for both of you from that point on, but the whole thing with Josuke and the arrow kept gnawing at me.
So, I distanced myself again when I found out that DIO had children. I didn’t know what that meant for our future—so much so that, being the coward that I am, I chose to send Koichi Hirose to Italy in my place to meet Giorno Giovanna.
2011
Unfortunately, our family’s story didn’t end the way I would have liked.
Just as you inherited Jonathan Joestar’s will and courage through me, someone else inherited DIO’s will.
I spent hours in that bed at the Speedwagon Foundation, kept in a catatonic state. Apparently, I had lost my memories—according to the brief summary I was given—and with them, any desire to fight.
I never would have believed that all those things I was avoiding—the things that were chasing me—were the source of my strength. I was surely wrong never to have shared just how much my memories weighed on me, and just how guilty I felt, deep down, for what was happening today and what had happened in the past.
The first things that came back to me were memories of Mom. Her patience, her cooking, those afternoons when she played with me while we waited for Dad to come home. Those special, rare days when Gramps and Grandma Suzie came to visit, and Gramps would sit down at the table with me to teach me English.
Mom would get mad, and I’d laugh because I didn’t understand.
There was that long trip to Egypt with my friends. Polnareff acting like a goofball, telling stories about his little sister and his childhood or about women in general, but always finding a way to be there for us. Gramps telling stories about his youth—times when he himself had laughed and suffered—and family anecdotes that made me want to bury him in a hole.
Kakyoin and I, discussing our interests to keep him occupied during his hospital stay, and laughing as we realized that without our Stands, we would never have become friends. His longing to see his family again, to apologize to them...
Avdol, who patiently explained everything I asked him, all while bickering with Polnareff. His pride, his sense of humor...
Iggy, that strange dog who was always tugging at my jacket for gum. My heart ached when I saw his little, battered body after he died.
The moments of regret and pain that I spent alone, mourning my friends. The little details of daily life that reminded me of them, which reminded me of the moments I would never share with them again, and the responsibility I bore.
My meeting with Marine—the woman who would become my wife—her smile and her calm demeanor in all circumstances. She never knew why I’d wake up in the middle of the night, but she was patient enough to help me regain a semblance of normalcy.
That summer with Josuke, when we gained a new family member—and a powerful ally. He was growing up fast and stood out for his heart of gold.
And then there was Jolyne.
The little girl who would run toward me when I came home, holding onto my leg, and who would laugh when I ruffled her hair. The one who would show me her drawings of butterflies with such pride.
The teenager I didn’t see grow up, who was disappointed in me, whom I always thought was responsible for her own actions...
And then there was the grown woman, who is now beside me in the water, fighting against the result of a century-long curse.
Jolyne, I wish you had a beautiful life ahead of you. A little while ago, Anasui asked me to give him permission to propose to you. When I held you in my arms, I thought I was holding my little girl once again, but you had become a beautiful young woman, with the glow of our family’s determination shining within you. I’m sorry that you won’t have the time to build a life for yourself, and that I won’t have the time to take on the role of a protective father.
Now that Father Pucci is fast-forwarding time, I realize just how much of it I spent running away, thinking I was protecting you. Did you ever try to tell me that, when you’d call me in tears asking when I’d be coming home?
“Kujo Jotaro, your greatest weakness is your daughter,” that bastard announced.
You know, a few years ago, there was that silly prediction about my face being split in two. Maybe I should have taken it seriously.
It’s ironic that this is happening now, when I have so much to tell you, my daughter.
“Dad’s gonna come save me..." you confessed.
How many times have you thought that? Without me ever showing up.
How many times have you seen my back turned, when you wished I’d look at you?
Now that my time has come, I wish I could have been closer to you and held you in my arms one last time to sing our song to you for the first time.
My throat wouldn’t cooperate, and my mind kept repeating the chorus over and over.
“Jolene…” was the only note I could manage to breathe out. "I'm begging of you, please-"
I had to have this talk with you
My happiness depends on you
And whatever you decide to do
Jolyne...