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After Dio's defeat, Jotaro couldn't simply feel relief. Seeing Kakyoin confined to a bed after a month without waking up, he felt only bitterness. The blow had nearly killed him, and were it not for a kind group of people who took him to the hospital while the battle against Dio was raging, he wouldn't have stood a chance.
When he returned to the scene after the battle, the despair of not finding Kakyoin there was devastating. The scent of blood, combined with his own injuries, made Jotaro want to kill Dio with his bare hands all over again. He only calmed down slightly once they located the hospital where the young man had been taken. He was transferred to a private hospital in Tokyo after his condition stabilized a few weeks later. Due to the numerous surgeries and organ transplants, he endured some very critical periods. Kakyoin's parents both took early leave from work to devote their full attention to their son, and since then, the young man's health has steadily improved.
The nurse was carefully dressing the unconscious young man when the group arrived to visit him. His abdomen was healing, with over twenty stitches due to be removed the following week. Jotaro stared at the healing wound, unable to shake a sense of guilt. How could he?
No matter how often Joseph and Polnareff tried to reassure him, guilt gnawed at his chest so intensely that Jotaro could barely sleep. What if he had been faster? What if it had taken those people just one minute longer to take him away? What if he had killed Dio sooner? What if? What if?
But in the end... could he have achieved a better outcome? Better than the fate that befell Avdol and Iggy?
Jotaro rubbed his face with his hands. Still weighed down by guilt and regret, he was simply grateful to see him there, breathing. Safe. Alive.
When she finished, the nurse greeted him and told him to call if they noticed anything out of the ordinary. The room was large, and the bed was positioned near the window, bathing the pale face in the glow of the spring sun. He looked merely asleep, yet the tranquility of his expression brought Jotaro no peace of mind.
On the bedside table sat a bouquet of red flowers in a vase filled with other varieties. There were also a few get-well cards—perhaps from distant relatives or school teachers.
"Did you come today, too?"
Jotaro looked toward the door when he heard the voice. A tall woman in her late thirties, with cherry-colored hair and a weary expression. Noriaki Kakyoin’s mother. Jotaro didn’t reply.
"...I’m glad you came." She sat in the chair beside the bed and looked up at him, smiling faintly. "Because Kakyoin will surely be happy to know he has friends visiting him."
The room fell silent for a few moments, their eyes naturally drifting to the sleeping figure.
"Any news?" Jotaro asked this time.
"The wound is closing as expected, without major complications. The transplants aren't showing any signs of rejection, either..." she explains calmly, her hand resting on her son's lean chest as she pulls the blanket up to his shoulders.
Jotaro studied the face. Eyes closed, with long, red lashes resting almost against the tops of his cheeks. Fine vertical scars across each eyelid. A finely sculpted nose. Lips sealed around the feeding tube. Ears looking strangely bare without the signature earrings. Jotaro felt that if he just stared long enough, the boy would wake up.
"When will he wake up?"
"The doctors don't have a prognosis. He was in an induced coma at first, but now he just doesn't seem to want to wake up. As if he's resting his mind..." She gently strokes her son's temple.
Jotaro clenched his fists, staring at Kakyoin's face.
Why won't he wake up?
She had noticed how often Jotaro visited the hospital; he came every other day. On the days he didn't come, Joseph or Polnareff would take turns, but Jotaro never missed a day. He arrived punctually and waited patiently in the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room. If a doctor was around, he’d ask them; if not, he’d ask Kakyoin’s mother or father. He stayed for the entire visiting period—sometimes just dozing off while sitting on the sofa, other times spending the whole time gazing at the young man in the coma.
She glanced at the vase of flowers and fixed her eyes on the red ones.
"Noriaki wrote a letter... a month before we got the call from the hospital." She spoke calmly, shifting her gaze from the flowers to Jotaro. "It came to us from Egypt... He said he was fine, that he’d be coming home soon. That he’d made friends." She gave a faint, humorless laugh. "I was so angry. We thought he’d run away from home, and when the police couldn't find him in the city, I was devastated, thinking I’d lost him."
Jotaro finally looked at her.
"But then I felt... relieved. Because in the photo, he looked so happy." She swallows hard, fighting back tears, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "I know it’s pointless to ask what happened. Why did my son come home like that... But... Is there really no way for me to know?" She sobs as tears stream down her pale cheeks and trembling lips.
...
The next day, Joseph went to the hospital alone.
Jotaro stared at the Polaroid on the table. Kakyoin had sent a copy to his parents without anyone knowing during the journey.
Happy?
He gazed at the figure between himself and Avdol in the photo. He was smiling.
Was he happy?
Jotaro leaned in, picked up the photo, and looked at Kakyoin standing beside him. Avdol and Iggy had been there too, back then—alive.
That bitter feeling came rushing back; he didn't even realize he had accidentally crumpled the photo with his thumb.
...
"What did you say to her?" Jotaro asked.
Joseph shoves a mouthful of rice and fish soup into his mouth. Holy ate calmly on the side, always smiling and filling Jotaro's bowl with fried fish and meat dumplings.
"Told the truth." Joseph says calmly. "If she believes or thinks I made up a story, in the end it will be her choice." He swallows the food and looks at his nephew. ".... You're a wreck. Holy told me you're not going to school."
Jotaro took a spoonful from the cup and ate it even though he had no appetite. "It sucks." He grumbles. But Joseph was not easily deceived.
"Soon Kakyoin will wake up and you will be able to go together." The man speaks as if it were something indisputable and goes back to devouring his food.
Jotaro clenched his fist around the spoon. "What if he doesn't wake up?"
Joseph didn't expect his speech to cause any reaction other than disdain, so he was a little surprised. "Well, Kakyoin is a strong boy. He's survived so far and will definitely wake up." He continues his positive and unquestionable tone, but keeps an eye on his nephew, waiting for his reaction.
"...Then I'll go back to school when he wakes up."
Joseph really liked that answer and followed Holy's example, filling Jotaro's bowl with more food while saying a few more words of encouragement.
...
Jotaro returned to the hospital once more with a bouquet. Same color, same number of flowers. Red as blood—or cherries. Jotaro tossed the withered ones in the trash and placed the fresh ones in the vase after changing the water. His rough fingers brushed against the soft, fragrant petals. Jotaro stared at the arrangement, his expression unreadable.
"Mhm..."
Jotaro’s heart skipped a beat; he glanced quickly to the side, just in time to see a pair of purple irises being revealed. Instinct made him hit the nurse call button first, and only then did he step closer to the bed.
"Kakyoin..." Jotaro called out, swallowing hard, his hand gripping the sheet tightly right next to the other man's hand. He tried to keep his voice low so as not to overwhelm him, yet he could barely contain the urge to examine him personally and make sure he was truly alright.
Noriaki Kakyoin’s heavy eyelids flutter open slowly, unhurriedly adjusting to the brightness. Only after a few moments does he meet Jotaro’s gaze. His breathing was very soft, and for a long while, the young man simply stared into Jotaro’s eyes, seemingly processing something in his mind. Even after sleeping for over a month, he still looked tired. Jotaro felt a pang in his chest as he saw those weary eyes looking at him so gently.
Then, he felt a warm touch on his hand. Jotaro looked down and saw pale, slender fingers resting upon his own. The pulse oximeter on the index finger tapped softly against his knuckles. Jotaro held his breath and grasped Kakyoin’s hand, firmly interlacing his fingers with the other's.
"I'm here," Jotaro whispers—his voice trembling slightly, yet filled with conviction. "I won't leave you alone again." He makes a promise, leaning in to press his forehead against Kakyoin’s, catching the scent of soap and fabric softener.
Kakyoin let his heavy eyelids close once more, his fingers gently squeezing Jotaro’s hand.
Some nurses and Kakyoin’s attending doctor quickly entered the room, requiring Jotaro to step out.
Kakyoin’s parents, who had been having lunch near the hospital, came rushing over after receiving the call that he had woken up. After a careful examination, it was confirmed that there were no abnormalities and his body was continuing to heal. Jotaro was only able to return the following day.
It was easy to tell that he had barely slept; he had stayed up all night, consumed by anxiety and a desperate need to see him. The next morning, Jotaro, Polnareff, Joseph, and Holy went to visit Kakyoin. Holy had prepared a large celebratory basket of food to bring along.
When they were finally allowed into the room, everything seemed fine. Kakyoin’s father was talking to the doctor at one end of the room, while his mother helped Noriaki eat some light soup.
As the door opened, Kakyoin looked in their direction.
"Boy..." Polnareff sniffed loudly, clearly emotional. He quickly went to the bed and hugged the young man enthusiastically while chattering about his worries and hopes. Kakyoin's mother laughed softly, her expression much calmer. Kakyoin returned the hug as best he could, smiling and thanking Polnareff for his kind words.
Holy left the basket she had prepared on the bedside table and wished Kakyoin much happiness and a speedy recovery, speaking gently to Kakyoin's mother as well.
"I’m glad you're alright, Polnareff, Mrs. Kujo." He spoke softly, his voice a little weak and hoarse, but no less sincere.
"Don't go opening his stitches." Joseph grabbed Polnareff by the arm and pulled him from Kakyoin. The next moment, he smiled at the young man. "You slept well, Kakyoin."
"I got plenty of rest." He chuckled through his nose, and as another shadow fell over him, Kakyoin smiled at Jotaro.
Jotaro wanted to say and do many things to Kakyoin. He wanted to scold him for being so reckless; he wanted to hug him and tell him how worried he was; he wanted to make him lie down and rest under his watchful eye until he was completely healed. But at that moment, seeing Kakyoin smiling at him like that, all those desires vanished like smoke in the air, making way for relief and warmth.
"...Welcome back, Kakyoin."
EXTRA FLUFF!!
"... Hah, you really don't have to do this, Jotaro," Kakyoin says good-naturedly as the other man helps him undress for a shower.
"Would you prefer a nurse?" Jotaro asks in a serious tone, pausing as he unbuttons the hospital gown to look at Kakyoin.
The young man finds it amusing and laughs. "Of course not! I just don't want to be a bother."
"I'm not being forced to do it."
Jotaro goes back to slowly undoing the buttons, one by one. The stitches had been removed a few days ago, and the skin was healing well, though it would certainly leave a rather large scar.
Kakyoin notices Jotaro staring. "It's going to look pretty ugly, isn't it?"
"Ugly?" Jotaro looks at Kakyoin's face and then at the scar. "... There's nothing ugly about you." He resumes unbuttoning and removing the hospital gown.
Kakyoin turns redder than a cherry and kicks Jotaro out of the bathroom.