Work Text:
Kakyoin wasn't alone in this room.
It was pitch black.
He wasn't alone.
Noriaki Kakyoin was seventeen years old. He wasn't alone in this room. There was something crawling under his skin.
He could feel it this time, stretching and twisting and winding its way through his skull, through every fold in his brain, creeping along nerve endings and making his fingers twitch. It felt almost like Hierophant, but worse in every way. Hierophant never felt like this- invasive, prodding, poking, exploratory. Hierophant never bit and tugged at muscles to make them move, never hissed sickly-sweet half-truths into his mind to get him to do its bidding. Never asked him to kill. Never asked him to bleed.
Hierophant wasn't here right now. Hierophant couldn't hear him, even if he screamed.
Noriaki Kakyoin was not alone in this room. His cellmates revealed themselves, one after the other.
Nijimura, on the floor in the middle of the room. There was still no light, but it was like he had been illuminated anyway, writhing in the beam of an invisible spotlight. Sickly green flesh pooled uselessly on the floor, heavy and twitching. The shape was barely human anymore, just a pile of grotesque melting flesh. Boils bubbled to the surface and popped. Pus and saliva and blood and god-knows what else spilled in horrible little rivulets down the sides of the mountain, absorbed back into the creature before they were able to reach the floor. There was a gurgling scream from somewhere within the mass of flesh. Kakyoin couldn't tell where his mouth was. Or- used to be.
Enyaba, hunched over her oversized cane. She was speaking to him, but her words were garbled. He couldn't understand anything she was saying. She began to cackle, a dry, hoarse sound, and writhing tentacles burst from her mouth in a spray of blood. They whipped around, piercing back into her flesh. Through eye sockets, through her neck, her arms, her legs, through the sides of her face and back out her mouth, they wrapped her in a fleshy cocoon. She was still laughing, somewhere beneath it all. The only words that came clear to him in that muffled, shrill chanting were Lord, Lord, my Lord!
Worst of all was Polnareff. This was not the friend he loved. This was a younger Polnareff, deep in the throes of grief, the loss of his sister a freshly opened wound in his heart. This Polnareff was a knight, pure and simple, driven not by nobility, but by revenge. Chariot's armor shimmered over his form as if he were wearing it himself, and he had the rapier crossed over his chest. His eyes were cold, grey, staring through him without really seeing. The fleshbud pulsed grotesquely in the center of his forehead, blood leaking down his face in lazy thin trails.
"Noriaki." He flinched, despite himself. Hadn't heard that name from Polnareff's lips in… almost a decade. What? He was 17. He didn't know Polnareff a decade ago. The knight continued, droning in monotone French so unlike his usual voice. "Tu agissais contre sa volonté. Il faut que je te raccompagne au Caire."
Kakyoin's dreaming mind helpfully offered a translation: You acted against his wishes. I must escort you back to Cairo.
His heart dropped. He couldn't move, feet frozen to the floor.
Polnareff stepped forward, then, flicking his rapier outward. Silver Chariot was summoned- partially?- overlaying Polnareff's body in a way he hadn't ever seen from them before. Like they were fused, metal melting morbidly into flesh and blood and vice versa. Patchy. Visceral. Without the usual shimmery ghostliness of stands. There was a physicality to this. "Tu serais puni pour tes actions."
You are to be punished for your actions.
Time froze as Chariot-Polnareff slashed at him with his sword, and Kakyoin was able to finally see himself in the reflection of the metal blade.
Staring back at him from the mirror-polished silver, however, was not his own face.
Well, it was his face. His own face, marred, melting, the faded scar in his forehead opened up to an empty chasm spewing writhing, fleshy tentacles.
His hands flew up to the sides of his face. He couldn't feel anything out of place by touch alone, but everywhere his fingers touched in the reflection the flesh split, leaking more tendrils as if the inside of his skull was nothing but a writhing mass of them. His fingers sunk into his cheeks, and he could taste blood.
Cruel laughter echoed all around him, sometimes far away in the corners of the room, other times brushing the shell of his ear. He tried to scream, tried to thrash away the sound, but found his limbs locked in place. Tied down. Strung up. Veins pulled free from his wrists used as marionette strings.
A cold hand caressed his cheek. Time resumed, and Polnareff's blade sliced him in half.
—
He jerked awake, cold sweat drenching his shirt and the sheets beneath him.
Kakyoin was alone in this room.
Jotaro's side of the bed was cold. Had been for a while, even.
He sat up too quick, blood rushing out of place and making him dizzy. Scar tissue strained against the mechanics holding his spine together, and the resulting jolt of pain made him double back over, gasping for breath. "Fuck!"
He threw a hand out toward the bedside table, fumbling around for something outside his reach.
One of Hierophant's tentacles stretched smoothly (summoned easily this time, barely a thought, no sign of the mental block keeping him locked in his user's mind) from his fingertips to drag the phone closer to him. With shaking hands, he punched a familiar number.
The phone rang… rang… rang… and clicked off. Nothing.
"Pick up, Polnareff, I need to talk to you," he hissed into the empty line, and was met with only quiet feedback. No one on the other side. "Damn it!"
As he slammed the phone back down onto the reciever, the movement disturbed a small piece of paper that fluttered to the floor. Kakyoin caught a glimpse of deep blue ink before it landed facedown on the carpet. Hierophant snatched it up for him so he wouldn't have to bend down to grab it.
He recognized the paper immediately- it had been torn from Jotaro's most recent notebook, a tiny pocket-sized thing that Kakyoin didn't understand how he could manage tolerating for everyday use. Well, almost didn't understand. He knew why Jotaro used it, despite the inconvenience. It had been a gift from his daughter. There were little seashells and bubbles decorating the corners of each page.
At the pools. Spring tide lowest at 4:45. Star will see you if you come down.
Kakyoin glanced at the clock. 6 a.m.
Of course Polnareff didn't answer the phone. It was the middle of the night in Egypt.
Kakyoin sighed, panic dissipating, falling back onto his pillows with an arm over his eyes. Hierophant hovered over him, tail wrapped around his torso below the scar tissue, poking his arm repeatedly until he lifted it the slightest bit to glare out at them. "What."
His stand couldn't exactly smile, but the narrowed look in its eyes was playful. There was a sound like a rattlesnake's tail, and a bottle of pills thwacked harmlessly against his chest.
Kakyoin grumbled about it, but unscrewed the cap and swallowed his meds dry.
Just as he was swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, fumbling for the armrests of his chair, the phone rang.
He was expecting a sleep-clogged French accent, grumbling about being woken up in the middle of the night. Kakyoin instead picked up the phone to an immediate onslaught of panicked out-of-breath shouting.
"Mr. Jotaro, sir, c-can you meet me somewhere please? I need your help, it's-"
He pulled the receiver away from his ear immediately, wincing at the volume. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Okuyasu? Okuyasu, slow down. It's Kakyoin. Jotaro isn't here right now. What's happening? Where are you?"
"O-oh. Yeah. Hi. Mr. Kakyoin," the tremble in Okuyasu's voice took on a slightly different quality. His breath slowed, but he still sounded uneasy. "I- uh," A sharp beat of silence. Kakyoin could practically hear the gears in his brain turning. "I can't talk to Mr. Jotaro?"
Kakyoin squashed the immediate knee-jerk annoyance. This was his own fault- the consequences of his constant messing with the kids. Okuyasu thought he was a gangster. Of course he would want to talk to Jotaro. The less scary one. A wry smile twisted his lips at the irony. He absentmindedly rubbed a hand over the tattoos on his arms, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder. He kept his voice calm. "Jotaro is out right now. Are you okay? You said you needed help."
Another beat of silence. A low, sharp breath. "It's- mmm-" anxious humming. It sounded like he was bouncing his end of the phone- the sound was coming in uneven jumps and dips. "Auurgh- itsmydad!" Came out as a single word, breathless.
"It's- what?"
"My dad! It's. My dad. I can't- um," there was another sound in the background, then. Something muffled, a soft bang!, the sound of something falling to the floor in another room. "Shit!" Okuyasu hissed into the phone. "He. Um. He showed up at my door this morning."
Fuck.
Jotaro had been (reluctantly) in contact with the Foundation for a week now, organizing and setting up a new apartment for Okuyasu to live in. To get out of that condemned piece of shit haunted house he was living in before. It hadn't even taken an afternoon's worth of convincing to get the boy to move out- the moment the news came from Josuke's mouth (something along the lines of stealing rent money from my old man- with an impish smile), all reluctance and misplaced sense of duty vanished. A crushing weight lifted from his shoulders. He was a kid, not a caretaker. Leave the scary things to the adults, for once in his life.
Kakyoin was stunned, for lack of a better word, the ink on his forearms doing an incredible job disguising the goosebumps spreading up them. "He… followed you?"
A frustrated growl from the other line. "I don't know, man, I thought those guys you guys called were supposed to like… put him in a nice retirement home or something. Dad, stop it-!" Another distant crash.
The idea of monster-Nijimura playing bingo in a hall full of elderly people made him feel equal parts hysterical and nauseous. He tried so hard not to let an erratic giggle slip out. It helped stave off the looming dread, at the very least.
Kakyoin cleared his throat, trying and failing to dislodge the lump growing there. "What exactly do you need?"
Shuffling on the other end. "I don't- uhh-" Another pause, more agitated humming. "I don't know. Can you… can you come over?" His voice grew uncharacteristically timid. "I-I mean. You don't have to if you're busy with, like, important work," the emphasis on important made him think Okuyasu was making air quotes, "I can call Mr. Jotaro later, when he's not busy, or, uh- you don't- uh- I can handle it."
Kakyoin sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and massaging his forehead. This was! fine. This was fine. Yeah. He was the adult here. He could handle this. He definitely wasn't thinking about… his finger brushed over smooth scar tissue. Yeah. That.
"Give me twenty minutes."
"R-Really?!" The excitement-disbelief in the teenager's voice was almost tangible. Then he cleared his throat and in a performative vocal save-face, mumbled "Okay, yeah, cool."
—
The trip to Okuyasu's new apartment was a short one. It was both a blessing and a curse- it was close enough to the hotel that Kakyoin didn't need either of the cars, but he had no time on the trip over to mentally prepare for what he was about to see.
The outside looked normal, at the very least. It wasn't broken into, as far as he could tell. It was eerily silent on the inside.
Kakyoin closed his eyes, taking a moment to steel himself before knocking on the door. This is fine. You're here for the kid. Dio's name isn't even going to come up. This is just- this is just like dealing with the work of another stand. Not-
Flashes of his nightmare came back to him; Nijimura writhing on the floor, consumed by spasming, rotting flesh. Staring at his own melting face in the mirror-blade, a shadow looming over his shoulder.
He shook his head to dismiss the image. Hierophant was already retracting from his wheels, drawing itself internally, curling tight around the bundles of his nervous system. Nothing in here but us.
He knocked on the door.
"Hold on a second!" He heard Okuyasu's voice distantly, followed by the muffled slamming of a door.
Frantic footsteps, slowly drawing closer, and the front door flew open. Okuyasu leaned against the doorframe, trying to be nonchalant, but a sheen of sweat across his forehead reflected in the light of the hall. He was panting.
"H-hey, Mr. Kakyoin!" A wobbly smile plastered itself over his face. He looked like he really wanted to believe it.
Something crashed behind him. Kakyoin thought he could hear distressed grunting. Okuyasu cringed, smile turning sour.
"That bad, huh?" Kakyoin kept his voice steady, emotionless, as he peered around Okuyasu's side. The boy stepped back to allow him into the apartment.
"He just… showed up. Starting bangin' on the door and wouldn't stop 'til I let him in," His voice was somber, quieter, none of its usual boisterousness. "You sure you can… do something about him?"
"Of course I can," Kakyoin pushed himself forward, stopping in the center of the kitchen.
The place was a mess. Cabinets were torn open, boxes of cereal and rice and tupperware were strewn over the floor. The fridge was closed now, but a significant chill in the air gave away the fact that it had been recently wide open. The countertops were smeared and stained in colors that Kakyoin didn't want to spend too long thinking about.
A sad-looking potted plant had been knocked over on the counter, ceramic smashed and soil spilling out onto the floor. There was a crumpled little piece of paper sitting in the mess. Kakyoin couldn't read it from where he was standing, but he could see the messy flourish of Josuke's handwriting in his favorite purple ink.
He chanced a look over his shoulder at Okuyasu. He had shut the front door, locked it, but was still standing with his back to it, like he was afraid of walking in any further.
Kakyoin cleared his throat. "Could you show me where he is, Okuyasu?"
That seemed to snap him out of it; he shook his head and visibly perked up, pushing himself away from the door. "He's, uh!" He jogged past Kakyoin, down the main hall. "In the living room. Follow me."
The living room was in a similar state, if not worse, than the kitchen. Almost all of the cushions had been torn off the couch, little bundles of foam bleeding from a clawed slit in one of the cushions. The coffee table had been upended, and the remains of a few smashed mugs still littered the carpet. The TV at the very least appeared unharmed, but Okuyasu's small collection of video games had been rifled through. Kakyoin winced internally at the sight of a broken cartridge.
The cause of all the distruction was currently trying to climb a barren bookshelf. Kakyoin suppressed a shiver and fought to keep his face neutral. Nijimura had his back to them, grunting in a strained liquid sort of way as he reached stubby arms higher upward than they could realistically reach. Swollen fingers made empty grabbing motions at the shelf above him, and he groped blindly around for something. His hand made contact with something, he made a dissatisfied whine, and tossed the object carelessly behind him. Okuyasu jumped, cried out a short little "hey, careful!" and jumped forward to catch the little metal thing before it could crash to the floor.
"Tonio gave me this," he muttered miserably to no one in particular, bottom lip sticking out in a pout as he tucked the little Employee of the Month plaque into his pocket.
Seeming to remember he wasn't alone in the room, he turned to Kakyoin and gestured helplessly toward the shambling mass. "I dunno what he wants- he's barely, like, looked at me at all. It's just like he was when my bro had him in the attic at home. Like he's looking for something. But I dunno what. I don't have anything he wants." Okuyasu was rambling now, dragging an exhasperated hand down his face. "I can't get him to leave, either. He won't, like, listen to me. It's like I'm not even here." He scuffed the toe of his shoe against the floor dejectedly. "I dunno. I thought maybe you- or Mr. Jotaro- might know what to do."
Kakyoin was frozen speechless, eyes still locked on Nijimura's back and tracking every movement. He was fighting a losing battle, trying to separate the scene in front of him from the nightmare still eating away at his subconscious. The idea of Nijimura making his way, alone, unguided, from the old abandoned house to Okuyasu's new apartment was- it was baffling, at best. Sickening, at worst.
What did he want? How did they know it was what he wanted and not… what he wanted? The fleshbud turned him into this. Nijimura was made up of the festering remains of Dio's rotting flesh. Who's to say he wasn't being guided?
No, Dio was dead. Has been dead for almost eleven years.
A thrall still carries out his master's wishes, even after his death.
Nijimura made a sound like he was sniffing the air, suddenly abandoning his pointless search of the shelves and turned on them like he could hear Kakyoin's thoughts. He shambled forward, arms outstretched, excited porcine squeals filling the room as he reached for his son.
Still lost in his own panic, startled to action by the sudden proximity- they could smell him now, a rancid mixture of stale sweat and dust and every horrible excretion a body can make- Kakyoin jolted, snapping Hierophant's name like the crack of a whip, reaching his own arm forward as his stand lashed out with a sharp-edged appendage. Hierophant slashed a shallow wound across Nijimura's face, causing him to whine and stumble back, hands flying up to immediately cover the pitiful cut. While he was distracted, Hierophant spread out from Kakyoin's outstretched arms, snaking around Nijimura's torso and holding him in place, lifted an inch or two above the floor so he couldn't continue shuffling forward.
Kakyoin grimaced at the contact, but tried not to think about it too hard.
Okuyasu had cringed backward, standing slightly behind Kakyoin's chair now. He was staring at the clumsy remains of his father, the creature which was uselessly flailing lege in the air like he was still trying to move forward despite the restriction. He reached grabby hands out like a toddler, whining insistently. Okuyasu's voice wobbled. "Dad, what do you want?"
He didn't get an answer, of course, just more whimpering. Okuyasu lowered his voice, directing his words at Kakyoin this time. "He's never done this before. I've been here this whole time and he's never, like, noticed. What gives now?"
Kakyoin shook his head, unable to answer. His lips were pressed together too tightly to form words. Hierophant was in constant motion, coils slowly slithering over each other to avoid stagnant contact with Nijimura for too long. Their shared disgust echoed and amplified, as if the mere contact could… reinfect them. Or something. The more logical side of his brain tried to that off as something impossible, but the half screaming about fleshbuds and thrall and pus and infection and rot was deafeningly loud.
Calm, composed, everything was fine, spoken through his teeth, he ground out "Okuyasu, go open your front door."
Understanding immediately, thank god, Okuyasu spun on his heels and sprinted to the door.
Painstakingly slowly, Kakyoin directed Hierophant to drag Nijimura toward the door. Every slight movement disturbed more sagging flesh, more oozing boils, and the further Nijimura got from the living room, the more he struggled and whined. Hierophant twitched, disgust and horror reverberating between them and amplifying into something almost unbearable. Every sound, every thought, served as a reminder that could have been me that could have been me that could have been-
The front door was in reach, and one final push had them practically throwing Nijimura out into the hallway with enough strength that he stumbled and fell into the opposite wall. Okuyasu slammed the door shut, somewhat reluctantly.
"I feel… bad."
As if on cue, there came wet pounding fists on the other side of the door. Okuyasu flinched, stepping back as if he expected something to break through. Kakyoin, momentarily distracted by running hands over Hierophant's retracting coils, wiping away nonexistent slime, was startled back to reality by the noise.
Fuck.
This wasn't going to be as easy as he initially hoped. Stupid.
"Okuyasu. Do you want him here? Do you want to see him?" His voice came out reedy with strain he hadn't yet exerted.
"He's my dad, I cant just-"
Kakyoin cut him off, harsher than he meant to be. Okuyasu flinched, mouth squeezed shut in a tight line. "You can. You are not responsible for him. He's under the care of the Speedwagon Foundation now, not you. You're not answering my question. Do. You. Want. Him. Here?" Each word was punctuated by the knocking from the hall outside, desperate gurgling whining filtering in through the cracks.
Okuyasu cringed, shoulders drawn up to his ears. His voice grew quiet, ashamed of the answer he was preparing to give. "…no."
"Good." Kakyoin gritted his teeth in preparation for. Unpleasantness. To put it lightly. God, he had really hoped it wouldn't come to this. Too bad.
He could call Jotaro. He could call… anyone else. He could leave. Wipe his hands of this and pretend it never happened. He didn't have to do this. He could call the SPW and have them drag the freak away like a rabid dog. This didn't need to be his problem.
One look at the conflicted fear and misery on Okuyasu's face told him otherwise.
He doesn't deserve this.
He stood from his chair, bracing one hand against the door over where the vibrations of Nijimura's fist making contact were strongest. Hierophant spilled forward beneath the door, tendrils trailing along the floor until they reached what could possibly be mistaken for feet.
Kakyoin and Hierophant had their fair share of experience within others' minds and bodies. When they were children, no one could teach him it was bad to puppet your classmates when they were doing things he didn't like. No one could teach him, because no one knew he was doing it, and wouldn't believe him even if he told them.
Overtaking someone else was as natural as breathing. To blend so seamlessly with another's mind, their own thoughts and actions serving as a blueprint that could simply be followed rather than twisted. It was something Dio always got wrong about them- it wasn't mind control. It was simply… control. Plain and simple. Mechanical. The human body is a complex machine full of wires that could be tugged into position. Electrical impulses to flick on and off. Chemical signals to disrupt. That was what Hierophant was good at- occupying all the little physical nooks and crannies in a person's brain and piloting it. The line between parasitism and commensalism was often incredibly thin. They had their whole lives to practice balancing.
Overtaking Nijimura was nothing short of excruciating.
It was like there was no brain to fit into anymore. All that was left in place of the once-sophisticated organ was something akin to grey-pink mashed potatoes. As soon as it made contact, a jolt of revulsion buzzed through Hierophant's connection with him and he almost pulled it back. He must have made some sort of face, or noise, because Okuyasu's hands suddenly found his shoulders and he could hear his name being called somewhere in the distance. He flinched away from the contact.
"Okuyasu, I need to focus on this." He could tell his voice was strained, and he had to push down the bile rising in his throat. "Please."
"Are you hurting him?" It wasn't exactly an accusation. Simple curiosity. Nijimura had gone quiet and still on the other side of the door.
"I don't-" Another wave of revulsion as Hierophant grabbed uselessly at rotted connective tissue and it melted through their fingers like months-old produce. "I don't think I could even if I wanted to. I'm just…" He paused as Hierophant froze, attention split. "Trying to send him home."
Hierophant had been slowly, clumsily, moving each of Nijimura's limbs one at a time. The effect could have been comical, almost cartoonish, had anyone else been watching. Nothing in this body was connected anymore. Nerves dead-ended, muscles had been melted to a paste, even the bones were fragmented and chipped. The more of the mess they wound through, the harder it became to understand how he was even still able to function at all, much less alive. Something was so incredibly wrong. Kakyoin's attention kept being pulled away from Okuyasu, if only to keep Hierophant from leaving Nijimura somewhere on the side of the road for someone else to find.
Then they had frozen.
Hierophant had withdrawn all of its filaments into itself makinf itself as small as possible, letting go of its control over Nijimura, who immediately started shambling back in the direction of the apartment. It hadn't left his body yet, and when Kakyoin returned his attention to it to ask what was wrong, he froze as well.
Buried beneath the layers of pus and sludge and withered tissue was something solid. Something alive.
Well. Alive may have been the wrong word.
In the center of what was left of Nijimura's brain, there was a near-microscopic bundle of flesh still writhing around. It didn't… look the same. It looked weak. Starved. It was shriveled, tentacles hair-thin and brittle, but still moving. Threadlike filaments spread out from the central core, too thin to see properly, much less touch, creating a webbed mockery of neurons. Every time Nijimura moved, a different part of the web tensed in tandem with his limbs.
The remains of Nijimura's fleshbud. The thing that turned him into something sub-human and melting and wrong was now the only thing keeping him alive.
Hierophant wouldn't go near it. Kakyoin didn't want him to.
The rest of the time walking Nijimura back to his old house was spent tediously moving one limb at a time, away from the brain, which meant Nijimura spent the entire rest of the way back trying to fight against them in the other direction.
get out get out get out of this body get away from it dont let it touch us get away get out-
Mercifully, a million years later, they finally got him secured back into the old house. Hierophant reformed its body outside Nijimura, looking frantically for the chain in the attic, and snapped the manacle around one of the man's arms without a second thought. They could debate the morality of the situation later, they just needed to get out. He couldn't be allowed to follow them.
Kakyoin didn't realize he was still standing until Hierophant snapped back into his body and they both came back to some semblance of awareness. His knees almost buckled and nausea made him slap a hand over his mouth, but he held steady. Thank god that was over.
Suddenly, he was hit with an unexpected weight that almost toppled him backwards. His whole body tensed, Hierophant bracing one tentacle against the wall to keep him upright and raising another in preparation to lash out at whatever had hit them. Arms. Arms around his torso, crushing him, cutting off his air, too tight, oh god he's back he followed us we touched one of his toys and now he's going to-
Oh.
Okuyasu's face was buried into his shoulder, his whole body trembling with unshed tears. His arms were wrapped tight around Kakyoin's torso in a crushing hug, which would be fine, if his hands weren't digging into metal and bone and grafted skin.
"Oku-" his voice came out strained, he could hear it, barely restrained pain and fear caught up in his throat and leaking out through gritted teeth. If Okuyasu noticed, he didn't show it. "Hey. Hey, it's okay."
Kakyoin awkwardly patted the boy's back, leaving one hand ghosted light between his shoulder blades while he used the other to brace himself against the wall. He doesn't know. He doesn't know. It's fine. If he doesn't let go of me in the next thirty seconds I might die all over again. We need to get out of here.
Thankfully, finally, the boy broke the hug first. He wiped an arm across his face with a deep, stuttering sniffle, and Kakyoin was suddenly hyper-aware of the wet spot on his shoulder.
Okuyasu was an easy crier- he'd seen him break down in overdramatic hysterics for far less than this- but this was something else. This was quiet. Small. Okuyasu shrunk down into himself, curling shoulders in a tight little ball and pinching his face together like he was trying to hold the tears back with that alone. One wrist seemed permanently attached to the space between his eyebrows, limp hand partially covering his eyes. His breath came in little hiccuping gasps.
"'m sorry," he started, and sounded remarkably younger than fifteen. "S-sorry."
"Fuck, Okuyasu," Kakyoin deflated, stepping forward slowly and placing a light hand on the boy's back again. Instead of pulling him into a hug, he tugged him sideways into a lean, and sank them both, backs against the wall, gently to the floor. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."
Okuyasu rested his body weight against Kakyoin's side as the tears began to spill out of his control.
Kakyoin let him have a few minutes of silence, focusing instead on Hierophant, who was now curled up in a tight little ball in his mind, disgusted with the leftover feeling of slime from Nijimura's mind. Everything was fine. They were fine. Both of them were fine, they could think about this later, there was a scared kid who needed them more right now. Nothing was coming after them. Nothing could come back from the dead, not even him.
When it sounded like Okuyasu's tears had slowed, Kakyoin spoke up again, voice steady and unbothered and in control of the situation. "Have you had anything to eat yet?"
The boy shook his head, sniffling again and dragging his sleeve over his face.
"Call Josuke. Koichi and Yukako, too, if you want. I'll take you to breakfast."
He could feel Okuyasu's shocked gaze on the side of his face, mouth agape. "Are you sure?"
Kakyoin grinned, playful, but sharp in a way that would put Okuyasu on edge. The leftover tension began to melt away. He had a reputation to uphold. He kept his response airy, waving a hand around like he was distracted. One of his sleeves slipped down as he moved, partially exposing his tattoos. "Yeah, you see, I've recently come into quite a bit of money and I've been looking for a way to spend it in… legal ways." He shot a glance out the corner of his eye to Okuyasu, who was staring at him with wide eyes, tears forgotten. "And if that means buying a couple teenagers breakfast, well, there's nothing suspicious about that, right?"
Okuyasu scrambled to his feet, then, standing in front of Kakyoin with rigid-straight posture and a weird salute of his hand. "Y-yes, sir!"
He ran off to find the phone, then, and Kakyoin chuckled to himself as he heard a distant Josuke, you're never going to believe this-!
He drew Hierophant out of his mind, then, and began the slow process of standing up from the floor. He tried not to think too hard about the feeling of slime still clinging to his body and soul, and moved into the kitchen to wash his hands.
—
When Kakyoin rolled his wheelchair up to the edge of the beach an hour later, he had just gotten off the phone with the SPW, emergency orders for someone (someone who wasn't him this time) to come collect Nijimura. He couldn't be left to wander around. They could keep him in the basement with the stone corpse of the pillar man, for all Kakyoin cared. Just get him out of Morioh and away from his son. Away from all of them, preferably. He hadn't expected to see Jotaro so soon.
Which was silly, of course, because Jotaro was the best in the world at noticing things, especially when they involved Kakyoin, and even more especially when he could sense something was wrong. It was uncanny, really. Unfair.
Regardless, as soon as he pulled up beside one of the park benches at the top of the slope down towards the water, a distant purple shimmer caught his eye.
Jotaro himself was barely visible at this distance, jutting rocks and reflected light on the water disguising a white coat remarkably well from Kakyoin's sight, even with his sunglasses on. Impossible to miss, however, was his stand.
Star was hovering, bent over, likely over Jotaro's shoulder, holding what Kakyoin could only assume was a notebook in their big hands. They cocked their head as he watched, tilting to one side like they were listening to something. Their hair followed sluggishly behind the movement, and when he straightened up too suddenly, their face was momentarily smothered in galaxy black. When it cleared, Star was looking in Kakyoin's direction, blinding bright smile plastered across his face and waving an excited arm over his head.
Kakyoin fought back against the contagious joy and waved back, watching in fond amusement as Star grabbed its user's attention by pulling at the back of his coat like an excited child. Jotaro stood straight, trying to wave off his stand at first, then reluctantly turned. He dropped whatever he had been looking at gently back into the water and put a hand up to shield his eyes where his hat was insufficient. When he saw Kakyoin sitting in the distance, he began trudging his way out of the water, the drenched tail of his coat leaving a trail of wet sand behind him. Why on Earth was he wearing socks?
As soon as he was within earshot, Kakyoin grimaced at the state of his clothes. "I don't know how that doesn't bother you."
Jotaro shrugged in place of a greeting, and Star gave Kakyoin one more glowing smile before fading out of sight. "Used to it, I guess."
When Jotaro dropped his arms back to his sides, something too brightly colored to be a patch of sand caught Kakyoin's eye. "You've got a… yeah. Here," Hierophant unspooled a gentle tendril to grip the edge of Jotaro's coat, pulling him forward a step or two so Kakyoin could grab the small shell stuck there. He felt something retract almost immediately, and the shell came loose. He rolled it lightly between his fingers, but didn't see anything inside. "Little guy on you."
"Little guy on me," Jotaro repeated automatically, the words unnatural in his voice. He held out a hand to take it, the small crustacean dwarfed even further in the center of his large palm. "Blueberry hermit crab. See?" As he speaks, voice low, two tiny eyestalks peer back out from the lip of the shell. Once it decided the surroundings are safe, the little crab spreads striking purple-blue legs to start scuttling its way across Jotaro's hand. He curled his fingers back slightly to keep it from falling off, and it tucked itself back into the shell at the unexpected movement. "They're usually further inland since they're not an aquatic species. Means this one has been on my coat since before I got down here, or it's a female looking to lay her eggs in the sand." As if broken from some sort of trance, Jotaro glanced up from the crab to lock eyes with Kakyoin again. The sparkle in his eyes, so reminiscent of the galaxies in his stand's hair, faded ever so slightly. "What?"
Kakyoin simply hummed, amused smile painting his features in a soft glow. "Nothing. Sounds like you've had a good morning."
"Yeah," A beat of silence. He could practically feel Jotaro's gaze raking over him. "And you look like shit."
"Nice to see you too, beautiful." Hierophant unspooled from his chair again, this time to flick the hat off of Jotaro's head. His stand caught it before it could fall to the sand, putting it on Kakyoin's head instead. He pulled a face almost immediately. "Ew. Sweaty."
"What happened?" Jotaro, unfazed by Hierophant's antics, kept his eyes trained on Kakyoin's face. You're too good at looking at things. Unfair.
"Oh, you know," Kakyoin waved his hand in the air dismissively, avoiding eye contact. "Nightmares, couldn't sleep, took the kids to breakfast, visited Okuyasu's new place…" a pause, a slight wince, and the last bit came out quieter than the rest, "removed Nijimura from the premises."
"You what?" He didn't raise his voice. He almost never did. But there was a bite to that question that made Kakyoin grimace. Why didn't you call me? was implied, not vocalized.
"I handled it!" Kakyoin's voice rose in pitch, defensive. He threw his hands up in the air, mild frustration building up in his chest. "I don't need you to protect me all the time."
Jotaro's brow furrowed. "Not what I said."
"Yeah, but you were thinking it."
"I wasn't." Jotaro narrowed his eyes at him and reached forward to grab his hat back. Kakyoin- Hierophant, really- let him. He turned and sat back in the sand beside him, completely ignoring the bench, unbothered by the sand now sticking to his waterlogged coat. He didn't quite lean against the wheels of Kakyoin's chair, but his body weight was shifted in a way where he might at any second. He was staring forward, out toward the water. "I could have helped."
"I handled it." Kakyoin's voice was smooth. Hardened plastic. Inflexible.
There was a long stretch of silence, then, Jotaro staring out at the surf and Kakyoin trying desperately not to claw crescent moons into his armrests. Hierophant tangled in between his fingers to give him something else to hold onto.
Then, out of nowhere, Jotaro looked back at him, seafoam eyes catching foxglove violet. "Are you okay?"
The remnants of the dead fleshbud remained in Nijimura's body, rotting him from the inside out. Turning him to mush. His entire body was held up by something inhuman and the rest was just melting away. That could have been me. That could have been me if I hadn't met you. You keep saving my goddamn life and you don't even know it.
Kakyoin bit his lip to keep it from trembling, and nodded. It was his turn to stare out at the ocean this time.
He only flinched the smallest bit when he felt Hierophant's coils be replaced by a warm, steady hand. Jotaro laced their fingers together, wordless, and squeezed. He didn't bother being too gentle, he knew Kakyoin wasn't fragile enough to break from this. This, meaning… all of it. Everything. That meant more to him than words could ever describe. He squeezed back, trembling breath escaping through his nose. He tilted his head up toward the sky, hoping gravity would do a better job at keeping the unshed tears in place.
There was a small hiss of air between Jotaro's teeth. At first, Kakyoin glanced down at their hands, worried at first that he had broken skin somehow without realizing. Then his eyes caught Jotaro's, which crinkled at the edges and flicked from his face back to the water, accompanied by a slight tilt of his head. Look.
When he turned his gaze back toward the sea, he didn't see anything at first. Right as he opened his mouth to ask Jotaro what he was looking for, though, the sand about fifty or so feet in front of them began to shift.
They watched as slowly, ever so slowly, small creatures began digging their way up through the sand. They were tiny, almost black against the pale beige of the beach, and moved with the clumsy uncoordinated floppiness typical of all newborns. As soon as they were free from their underground prison, each one turned instinctually toward the sea and began, almost frantically, to fumble thier way towards the water.
Baby sea turtles.
"How'd you know?" Kakyoin whispered, eyes locked on the steady-growing parade of newborn turtles, though he already knew the answer. Of course Jotaro knew. Jotaro knew everything.
"High tide, now. Shortest distance they have to travel."
They could talk about Nijimura later.
This was more important.