Here's Your Letter

by Clever_Girl_22

Summary:

In the aftermath of their journey, Jotaro is left with the inescapable task of returning to the life he once had; Jean Pierre just wants to move on and forget.

And then they start to receive some letters.

Notes:

I'm seeing a pattern here of promising I won't write about a series I just speed-run (haha).

Everybody says it, but the Stardust Crusade just is different. I kinda fell in love with theses guys--young men who are on the cusp of starting their own lives until they are demanded to deal with inexplicably adult problems with the cost of their lives at stake. What their loved ones endure because of it.

makes you wonder.

Chapter 1: January 9, 1989

They sat around a weak fire, wind whipping against their backs in a dirty haze. Weary, Noriaki huddled deeper into his cloak. They had a little over two weeks left and were finally on the outskirts of Cairo; everybody was silent. Muhammad was buried into his prayer book, Jean Paul hummed a quiet diddy, and Joseph was tinkering.

And Jotaro, of course, was smoking again, taking a tired drag and trying to hide a yawn within a sigh. All alone in their own little worlds. Noriaki stared up to the stars.

Christmas had come and gone, and now here they were, in the year of Our Lord, 1989. 

"Keep that chain up and you'll never have a girl kiss you," Polnareff snorted,

Jotaro shrugged, "You say that as if I care."

Avdol snickered under his breath; the stars were barely a glitter up there, out there. Would they ever see such a clear sky in their lives again? 

"I hope we stay in touch," Noriaki said suddenly.

"What do you mean, my boy?" Joseph was fidgeting with the loose screw that was keeping his wedding band in place, "Of course, we will!"

Jean Paul leant in and gave Kakyoin a playful shove, "Sure thing, we will--I'll even write you letters. I think you all are worth sharing my lyrical love with."

Noriaki smiled, "Really?"

"I could get into that," Jotaro shrugged, "It's not much."

"And it's quite the nice surprise, honestly." Muhammad agreed.

Noriaki nodded along; he hadn't gotten letters all that often in the past. A few here and there from his parents in his lunchbox as a kid, but there was no way of them connecting now. The last letter he had written was when they were leaving Hong Kong, ensuring to his mother that he was safe and with his friends on a trip for the holidays.

"Well," He was already daydreaming of the stamps he'd get, "Then it's settled."

Kakyoin was content--a silent sky, a new world afterwards. When all was said and done, his life will have changed in these fifty days for the better.

Right?

 

 

Notes:

so so very excited to get this thing going <3

Chapter 2: January 19, 1989

Summary:

Jotaro wakes up in the hospital, tormented by not-so-distant memories.

In the dark, he could see his eyes. Bright, brown. Flooded with tears.

In the dark, he could see the blood–a hole in his body larger than a soccer ball; pink and red, and bones and all the bits in between. And no matter how hard he ran or how fast he climbed, he couldn’t reach the body.

In the dark, Noriaki was too far away.

Our fight isn’t over!

The voice, screaming in his ear.

Our battle isn’t done!

I will rip your brains to shreds!

Put my teeth through your heart!

I will feast on your blood 

As I feed on your fears!

In the dark, he swung his fist at the eyes and heard a crash.

*****

Krrrchinck!

“Jotaro, is that you?”

His mother’s voice was floating back as his eyelids fluttered open, and discovered wet sheets, broken glass, and the digital clock dangling by its cord. Hospital windows, hospital blankets…

“Sweetheart, are you alright?”

Holly whipped around the corner of the hospital room and gasped.

In the dark, Jotaro Kujo was crying, the glass pitcher of water shattered on the floor.

“My goodness!” Holly took his hands into her own, a shard of glass wedge in the palm of his left side.

“I’ll go call a doctor,” She was up and marching, walking away before he could grab her.

“Wait!”

He could punch himself at his own voice, cracked and weak from the dehydration and restless sleep. But his mother turned and froze-–softly, he tried again.

“Please, wait…with me.”

“Oh, Jotaro,” Holly dragged new blankets from the room’s bedding closet, folding back the wet throwover and replacing it with something warm and clean. 

Gingerly, she sat at his right side.

“You’re shaking like a leaf!” She touched his shoulders and he flinched harder; her eyes bled into tears but her soft smile did not vanish.

“Let me call a nurse,”

“Absolutely not.”

He steeled his nerves and tried to pull the tears back into his sockets.

“Please,” His mother pleaded, “You don’t need to be tough with me. Not right now, at least.”

Tough? 

“We need to get a nurse, sweetheart,” She repeated, “They need to remove that…Jojo?”

He was shaking even more, an unsettling sob escaping from his throat.

“I…” He sank into her outreached arms, “I couldn’t… hic! I couldn’t get to him in time and… hic! And…and…”

“Jotaro, enough,” Holly never was firm, “I am the luckiest woman alive because I am here tonight with you. I will dry those tears like I did for years, trust me, please!”

She held his cheek in her palms, and he could see the faintest flicker of thorns in her hair–green but gentle. Her fighting spirit came from within.

“Yes,” He exhaled shakily, eyelashes sticking to his cheekbones.

“Jojo,” Holly squeezed his cheeks, “I love you. I…I don’t know what happened out there, but I love you. You came home and that is all that matters to me.”

But as she called for a nurse and hugged him close and cried into his hair, Jotaro stared blankly into the space between them.

Kakyoin Noriaki has been dead for three days, a few weeks shy of eighteen.

He had promised to beat Jotaro to graduation and help him pass his general biology exams upon returning. 

He had promised to write to him when they returned to their regular lives.

‘Our battle did not end in Egypt.’

Jotaro had promised to keep in touch.

****

When his laceration was sealed and the dinner cart was rolled in, Holly sat patiently in the corn chair, flipping through news channels…the death toll in Cairo was now close to one hundred, with an American politician being pinned as the perpetrator. The Speedwagon Foundation had swept their fifty days clean under the rug. Out of sight, out of mind. Survivors were being treated at the same hospital he was now, but the Foundation had dealt with Joseph’s injuries in complete privacy, allowing for Holly Joestar to reconnect with at least one of her lost family members. 

For all he knew, John Pierre was back home.

‘I will call him when I get out,’ Jotaro decided.

“Mom,” He couldn’t stomach the sight of those streets, “Can you that shit off?”

Holly didn’t even blink, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

She turned the dial off and sat in silence, picking up a stray magazine from hospitality she had snagged earlier; the last image on the television was a water tower, its basin fractured beyond repair.

He had promised to keep in touch.

Tap…tap, tap!

Holly jolted, “Come in?”

A nurse peeked in sheepishly, “Um, your son has a visitor, but I can see that he is still resting, so I will tell them to–”

“No, please!” There was another woman behind the door, desperation indescribable, “Please, he saw my son last! Please let me speak with him!”

Jotaro felt his blood turn to ice.

“Oh,” Holly looked unsure, “Oh, it is alright...we can have a small visit. Guests are good for the spirits!”

Jotaro tried to shoot his mother down with a glare, but she didn’t catch it in time; the door creaked open, the nurse awkwardly waiting as a tall, stooped woman and slighter man peered in. There were tears stained in their cheeks, foreheads creased with worry and fatigue. And the hair was the same as Noriaki, bright and wild like fire.

“That’s my son’s hankie,” The woman suddenly pointed at the little green and white cloth tucked into the nightstand drawer, “How…how did you get that? Where did you get that from?”

“Regina,” The man spoke up, “We can’t assume that was his! We are startling these poor people as it is, we can’t barge in and accuse them of something–”

“No, it is his. That’s my son’s…where did you see him last?”

They said on the television that the hole was so massive, that it would take eight or nine days to rebuild the Cairo water tower.

“I…” Jotaro’s voice cracked, “...met him when he visited my school. We were…friends, but haven't talked much before.”

The woman’s eyes widened with realization.

“You…you knew my son! Where is he, do you know?”

“Regina!” The man, her husband, maybe, grabbed her shoulder, “We need to go and leave these people alone! We haven’t checked the hospital nearby…maybe they’re housing him there.”

Jotaro watched the way this woman’s eyes blurred up with agony; his stomach twisted angrily and he tore into the bedsheet until he was sure his fingernails ripped through.

“We are so sorry to bother you,” The man turned to Holly, “Please, my deepest apologies. Our son was reported as also in the Cairo accident and he had been missing for over two months now. We are getting desperate.”

Holly nodded, “I would do the same if I had lost my little Jotaro…I would be lost without him.”

The man smiled knowingly and led the woman out by the hand, but Jotaro caught her eyes once more–-she knew that he was somewhat involved and it was making his flesh crawl.

‘His battle ended in Egypt…but not mine…’

He sank back into the bed, eyes distracted by the ceiling lights. After Holly kissed his forehead and excused herself to go use the restroom, Jotaro noticed a slip of paper flutter from her skirt pocket. Peeking through the side of the door, he reached to grab it from the floor and stuff it under his pillow, but before he did, she noticed the address.

“Kujo, Jotaro. Hospital address.”

In a blue ink pen, the letters ‘J.P.P’ were written in a stylish cursive.

Quickly, Jotaro ripped it open; two sheets fell out, crisply folded and numbered in the left-hand corner. The paper felt soft and expensive, like something you could write your holiday cards on.

The letter was not surprisingly straightforward.

 

Jotaro,

I know you are healing now. Well, physically healing. I recently visited the inner city in search of prosthetics, somewhere the Speedwagon Foundation sent me. I am out of practice, but I also am an eloquent man and will keep my promise to write. I hope you will, too. I’m off to Avdol’s funeral–-his father was notified of his death but does not know you and I exist.

You do not need to shoulder this alone. I will be waiting for your return.

Sincerely, Jean Pierre.

 

“Oh,” He hadn’t heard Holly come back, “Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry! I grabbed it earlier but got distracted. There’s your letter from that nice Mr. Polnareff boy. He had reached out over the telephone to your grandfather and asked where you were staying.”

“That’s…very kind of him. Thanks, Mom.”

And Jotaro stared at the pieces of paper, feeling the starch on its finely pressed cuts and sticky seal as if searching for a fault to deduce that it wasn’t actually real. That this--all of this--was some twisted nightmare or prank manipulated into existence to shake him.

“Of course, sweetheart,” His mother was tucking him back in, shutting the lights off.

She smiled, “The battle is over…now it’s time to heal.”

Notes:

this is supposed to be a little rewrite of the ending; most of this will be some detail changes here and there, but filling a decade's worth of story is quite a task.

Chapter 3: January 22, 1989

Summary:

Jotaro discovers that his legacy as the next Joestar has been marred by dire mistakes.

Knock, knock!

Jotaro rubbed his eyes and stretched his neck, wincing as it stiffened and popped. 

“Mr. Kujo, I have another letter for you!”

The nurse that popped in was a new one, smaller and shy as she left a small parchment envelope on his cluttered nightstand, topping the high pile of marine photography books he had abashedly asked his mother to bring him from the library nearby. 

‘In the sea was the only time I felt at peace.’

Jotaro tried not to look uncomfortable, “Thank you.”

When she left, an awkward smile and little wave not unnoticed, he meticulously peeled off the wax seal–-his grandfather’s, no doubt, the large “J.J” pressed proudly into a ruby-colored scrap of beeswax. Inside fluttered a few pictures, none that Jotaro recognized.

“Crazy old bastard…”

Then, a small folded sheet…

 

My Dearest Grandson,

I must skip our pleasantries and continue to the business we both know is at hand–there is another Stand within our family tree, one that I–you, now, as well–only know about. I cannot tell you where just yet, but a young boy has awakened his abilities and survived Dio’s plague. He is only four, a little child from the Japanese countryside.

I regret to say that he is my son.

I will be calling upon you and your mother for a holiday once you have settled back into school. Perhaps, we can discuss this then. I know you have just survived the fight of your life, but our bloodline is not safe yet.

He is ours to protect.

 

Jotaro choked on his own spit, brow contorted in disbelief and disgust; he fished the polaroids that had fallen between the crease of his sheets. There, three of them were of a child: the first photograph showed a newborn, swaddled snugly in a lavender blanket with a pale-pink beanie covering already curly hair. Scribble neatly in the blank white space was a name.

Higashikata, Jousuke, December, '85.

Another Joestar had been born…how could this frail thing survive their bloodline?

Jotaro snatched the second photo, where the boy looked more his present age, hair slicked back in an amateur ducktail, a grin the size of the moon plastered on his face as he sat on a stool in a royal blue uniform.

First Day of School, 1989, read the handwriting.

The third polaroid was the most interesting-–the little boy Jousuke was sitting with a woman, her hair short and smooth, an iridescence to it that looked almost radiant. That same beaming smile lit up her cheeks.

Jousuke’s mother.

“Sleazebag,” Jotaro scowled.

He returned to the letter, rage suddenly flooding his eyes with unchecked ferocity…

 

Four years ago I met Tomoko. I was traveling for business and mourning the sudden passing of my mother. I wish you could have met her, she taught me everything I know and then some. Her death was hard after losing Robert to a heart attack, and I wanted time to myself, away from life in America. Your Nonna was caught up in her career in Napoli and I felt the urge to get out and stay out for a bit. I traveled to Japan to visit Holly for a week, but just couldn't shake the anger I was feeling. You don’t know it, but I’ve spent my life up until then fighting against an evil that I didn’t even know a face to. 

Neither Tomoko nor I were planning anything serious; she was the accountant I had hired Holly while your father was away and we only ever spoke in passing through phone calls over taxes. But one night we decided to finally meet and grab a drink. Just to check out from our own little busy worlds and put our lives on pause for an evening.

I am many things, but I have always been a fool. I was naive to believe that we could both be responsible.

Jotaro, I tell you this because Jousuke may one day need you. He may call on you for help and I may not be around to protect them. You are still a kid–this is wild to say, coming from the horrors we have just suffered through, but you are still a kid rushing head-first into a big, scary world. There will be no going back for men like us.

No matter what, I want to tell you how much I love your Nonna. How much I love your mother. Without them, I am lifeless. But we all make mistakes…these are polaroids that Tomoko has mailed to me over the years, but I have never answered her. What we did was foolish and I may pay for it one day, but I tell you all this for the boy’s safety and your own. 

Please do not make the same mistakes as I have, young Joestar.

 

There was no signature at the end, just a few specks of red wax left over. Jotaro read the letter twice, then a third time, absorbing the story unraveling before him. He had a brother? No, a nephew…and uncle, technically? Who was in kindergarten?

“Good grief…”

He made sure to stuff the letter and the polaroids within his pillowcase, careful not to let Holly find any remnants of the matter. If what his grandfather said was true, then she didn’t need any more heartache. 

‘For Nonna, how could you?’

Jotaro sank under his covers, a gurgling pit of dejection bubbling up in his stomach.

'Do not make the same mistakes as I have.'

There was no world where he could have his own family–not anymore, at least. The rise of his Stand, an accursed projection of power unbeknownst to maybe even God itself could never and should never be passed down. Barely eighteen and his life was already made up for him–he could never make the same mistakes. To call himself a father someday was far too childish to hope for.

Jotaro stared out the window, a morning rain settling over the park outside. Maybe Josuke was at school right now. Maybe…maybe he could meet him, give him the elder guidance he himself wanted for once.

“Gigi, I’ll kill you when I see you next.”

The rain was already starting to pour, a rhythm for disaster ahead.

 

Chapter 4: February 1, 1989

Summary:

Jotaro receives an unexpected letter, the first of many.

The last few days had been mind-numbingly routine: first, Jotaro would receive a package from school, his assignments bundled in a disappointing gift for him to plow through at an anxious pace. Then, there were the routine check-ins with nurses who would side-eye him with curiosity, never flinching at a blood draw or wrapping; they stared at him like he was some sort of lost child.

‘I’m already eighteen…what’s the difference?’

At the very least Holly’s visits were a brief break, though he would never admit to it; she arrived at nine o'clock in the morning, sharp, and would bring him almost anything he liked--newspapers, books, VHS, and even some audio-taped books from the local library, ranging from ghost stories to marine biology. Anything was a welcome distraction. Sometimes she would stay overnight, fast asleep in the guest chair until dawn. Then she’d leave, refresh, and repeat all over again the following day.

His father hadn’t called yet, however.

“Jotaro!”

He unplugged his walkman, the cassette on Persian architecture rewinding for its third go-through.

“Jotaro, my dear!” Holly leaned through the doorway, hiding something behind your back, “I have something for you!”

She displayed a fan of letters, settling her purse in its home by the guest chair stool and grinning like a child; Jotaro rubbed his eyes and took one.

“Oi, any from him?”

His mother’s face flickered with dismay before returning to its cherry delight.

“No, your father’s…out of reach. He has been in Mississippi this month and has yet to write back. He called me last night but I was already, ah, asleep.”

‘Typical,’ Jotaro, thumbed through the letters–a handful were from classmates and teachers, but one caught his attention.

Holly was fishing through her purse for her reading glasses, “Do you know a Kakyoin family? It was the only address I didn’t recognize…”

Restraining the bolt of surprise he felt, Jotaro carefully tore open the letter she handed him, its address inked with an emerald pen…

 

Dear Young Man,

We met on the wrong foot a few days ago and I am terribly sorry. I haven’t seen my son in months–-he left without saying goodbye, or telling us where he was heading. He was always such a shy boy, keeping to himself with a green ghost in his head. He would tell me that this imaginary friend used to give him jewels.

Did you know my son? Were you friends, or classmates? This is a picture of Noriaki when he was a little child ... I feel that maybe you and him were the same, in some ways.

Please, if you can, write back.

 

A Polaroid slipped out of the envelope; it looked like it was taken at a mall photography shop, a small boy with outrageous red hair beaming at the invisible camera. He was holding a prop ball, eyes lit up at whoever was making silly faces behind the camera and caught mid-laugher; Jotaro felt his eye prickle.

‘You were hardly eighteen.’

“Sweetheart, is something wrong?”

Holly was gazing at him, big blue eyes a pool of concern.

Jotaro shook his head, “No, Mah…um, just the meds, that’s all. Feeling drowsy.”

She didn’t look too convinced.

“You know you can always tell me…when you’re ready, of course.”

Ready?

Since when did anyone care if he was ready for all this?

“Yeah, alright.”

 

 

Chapter 5: February 22, 1989

Summary:

Meanwhile, Jean Pierre struggles on his own to cope...or is he truly alone?

He checked the joint once more, the pulleys taped to his joints and squeaking as he gripped and relaxed against a stress ball. The therapy office was full of that sort of crap, tossing him latex bands, lacrosse balls, and all sorts of at-home tools to work on his limb recovery. 

‘Steady as steel,’

They had opted to amputate from the calf down, the infection in his foot from days of abuse and neglect in danger of causing severe bacterial infection. His hand miraculously was fine, cauterized almost instantaneously within the flaming sands of The Fool. For now, all he was missing were a few digits…his grip could return, and his dexterity could strengthen, if he was lucky.

If he kept up with the therapy…which, besides the cute interns, he absolutely loathed...maybe things wouldn't be so bad in the long run.

‘Steady as silver…’

He leaned over his mailbox, the apartment complex’s elevator broken once more; calling maintenance wasn’t worth the hassle for the third week in a row as he steeled his nerves for the cumbersome journey upwards. Typically, there was nothing except Speedwagon checks and newsletters, but today, there was something else–a small, box-shaped card.

“Oh?”

Jean Pierre tried to make out the address: Cairo, Egypt.

With a pooling sense of dread, he stashed the envelope into his coat pocket and ascended the steps, his cane and prosthetic creaking with each step. After a laborious journey, he finally slipped into his suite just as the sun was setting on Loire Valley, its sky dappled in purple and orange that danced off the roof panes of his ancestors' abandoned farms. The world he knew had moved on since his journey, this crappy leaning tower of cement one of many to dredge up an unapologetic blemish of ugliness.

Tossing his usual mail into the junk drawer, Jean Pierre checked all three locks before checking his windows, the bathroom, and the emergency ladder’s exit before settling at the kitchen table. For some reason, his hands were shaking.

The French writing was surprisingly eloquent until he realized that there was a translation approval stamp from Speedwagon in the lower left corner He scoffed--of course every letter he would receive for the rest of his life would go through inspections.

 

Mr. Polnareff,

It has taken me many weeks to figure out who you were, and a lot of prying that I don’t necessarily enjoy at my age. So, I’m going to be frank with you and come forward with honesty on why I am writing this letter to you.

You knew my son, Muhammad Avdol. 

I know not who you were to him, nor how you two met, but you knew him, if only briefly. I haven’t spoken to my son in nearly a decade–the Foundation told me of his death but refused to bring me his remains. I do not know you well enough to ask, but I forsake my pride in hopes of putting my only child to rest. Please, write to me; I am old and do not risk traveling during such violent times, nor will I ask that of you.

If I cannot have my son’s remains put to rest, all I ask is that we can put his memories to peace. Please, who were you to him? 

 

There was no name, or maybe the Speedwagon Foundation had redacted it from this copy–there was a return address, however, and Jean Pierre scribbled it down with haste. But then, he stopped.

Who was he to the man who bore flames?

Chapter 6: February 28, 1989

Summary:

Jotaro decides to strike a connection with Mrs. Noriaki.

Notes:

and so it all begins ;)

To be fair, he felt rather silly.

‘Holy shit, can you just…write?’

He sat at his kitchen table fidgeting with a ball pen; it had been an excruciating, boring three days since he had been discharged, he and Holly finding themselves stranded in a nearby hotel for the time being. It had been on his mind for a week now, the cheap generic greeting card looming in front of him.

‘What’re you afraid of?’

Jotaro leaned an arm on the table, eyes twitching as it wobbled and squeaked off kilter.

He growled and almost snapped the pen, “Good grief, it’s just a letter!”

“You alright sweetie?” Holly called from the shower down the hall.

He sighed and stood, opting to search for a snack. He rummaged through the fruit bowl, the same two bananas and tiny apple doing little to appease his appetite. Settling on a wayward orange, Jotaro returned to his seat, slowly peeling at it.

How hard could a letter be?

 

Mrs. Noriaki,

I am very sorry for taking so long, I did not know if this would be a trouble or not. Thank you for the letter; I didn’t know Kakyoin for very long, but we were close. As long as we knew each other, I could always count on him.

I don’t know if this is me overstepping, but may I keep the handkerchief? I will return the photos so you can keep them close…if I lost someone so close to me, I’d want them back, too.

I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring him back safely.

With my sympathy,

Kujo, Jotaro

 

He was already crying, goddammit. Here he was, this big, strong man–-he stopped time on a whim! But he couldn’t save him, nor anyone else. The letter felt choppy and insincere, but what was he supposed to do?

Holly popped around the corner.

“Oh, I am so happy to see your appetite return! I can order us some yakisoba, as a treat tonight to celebrate us both feeling better, if you'd like.”

Jotaro covered the letter with his hands.

‘You saved her, didn’t you?’

His mind wandered back to Jousuke. Should he investigate this new Joestar? At the very least he could ensure the kid’s safety, the prospect of more followers of Dio was far too real...they hadn't killed every single Stand during their trip, a twinge of mercy that Jotaro hadn't wanted to believe would come back and bite them all in the ass. There were at least three, maybe four men and women who could be well enough now to target the Joestars, if only for self-prescribed vengeance.

“Thanks, mom,”

But could he leave Holly alone? The Speedwagon Foundation would come to their aid at a moment's notice, but, truthfully, they were not much of a defense if someone really wanted to kill her. Holly beamed and was already on the telephone, twirling its cord between her index and forefinger while the other hand flipped through the takeout section of their hotel phone book. Did she even know how close she had been to death? Jotaro growled as the orange peel split in two.

How could he betray her by leaving again?

 

Chapter 7: March 1, 1989

Summary:

Jotaro receives another letter from the Noriaki family.

Two weeks flew by and he was back in school. The campus had changed, Holly and him agreeing to transfer earlier to university to get a fresh start, but it still was the same grades, the same boring assignments, and boring conversations with people who now he wasn’t just isolative of, but bearing the weight of their lives in a way that his peers would never know.

‘You are alone in the world, right?’

A month after surgery, Star came back into the light; no longer brilliant, he showed pale purple eyes and jagged scars across his torso and forehead. To get anything so much as a sentence from both of them was a miracle. Right now, as he fought off the temptation to doze in his foreign studies lecture, Jotaro watched from the corner of his eye as his Stand fiddled with the chalk box on the edge of the easel lecture board. Sleepily, he noticed that there was stiffness in his joints, Star’s fingers were not moving quite as reflexivity as they should be.

"Kujo?" His professor's voice cut through his thoughts, "Tell us about your recent trip."

Reluctantly, the Kujo family had decided that they would classify Jotaro's absence as an opportunity to study abroad, The Speedwagon Foundation manipulating its ties across the globe to fabricate a full portfolio of historic study: they had settled on a mediocre trade route project, something close to Jotaro's standard of expertise and meticulous rigor but evident in its missing clues of Cairo and any personal obstructions during their travels. To his classmates, Jotaro simply looked like an asshole enjoying the fruits of a distant father's wealth.

'Do I tell them that I lived?' He wanted to scream, 'Or do I tell you that they died saving me? Saving my life, my family? My peace? Do I tell you the truth, a truth so terrible that I should have never been born if this was what would have been the trade-oof? His seat was there...Noriaki--'

"Kujo-san?"

His classmates were staring, fidgeting in the early spring heat, their attention towards their own lives. Jotaro felt himself sweating, suddenly shaking as his thoughts raced. 

Eyes. Eyes everywhere. Eyes that broke time and watched as his heart stopped beating and his breathing ceased; Jotaro saw Star Platnum snap the chalk in his grasp, pellets of dust crumbling the ground. 

"It was quite an academic experience. I'm...I'm lucky to have gone."

The hours itched by until finally, he was able to flee. Jotaro escaped through the halls, voices whispering his name with vigor as he tried to isolate himself even further, hat tipped over his face so much that he had to start daggers into the ground to navigate his way home. But before he even got the chance to knock, his mother was waiting, smiling wide and tired.

“How’s your first week back at school?” She asked.

“Oh,” He grunted, “I guess it already is Friday….want me to pick something up for dinner tonight?”

Holly looked hesitant, “Oh, well…I can make you one of your favorites if you want!”

She pecked a kiss on his forehead and dragged Jotaro back in, Star following at a slugging float.

“Mom, please,” Jotaro sighed, “You have cooked for me every night this week! You’re tired…and we at the very least can eat leftovers. What’s left of them, that is…”

“Oh, please!” She waved away his concern, “You just spent the past month in the twenty-something days in the hospital, God knows where before that! These are your first home-cooked meals in months, so–”

She yawned, trying to catch it with her teeth while she tied back her hair and rummaged to through their fridge. Jotaro frowned; his mother never really was good at hiding herself in the same manner he did. She could always put on a bright face and go for miles on some positively, but he saw the way she would linger by their landline, clutching baby pictures of him or the few framed token scraps of his father late at night. How her coffee pot was filled and drained within a few hours. He grabbed the fridge door.

“Ma, please,” He said, “Let me go pick something up for us. My treat.”

Holly scowled but didn’t put up a fight, “Oh…okay. I’m just so lucky to have such a son who enjoys all his mother’s meals, that’s all.”

She winked teasingly, but he was distracted by the crow’s feet creasing gently into her eyelids.

“I’ll get us a seat somewhere with fusion food, just like they make in the States,” He promised.

Holly smiled, “And I shall set our table! Make sure you go out in your uniform, the waitress might give you seconds.”

“Ai, Mama,” He sighed, “I’ll be back in a few. Go relax, please.”

He bounded down the steps, Star now alert at the prospect of American cuisine. Before heading out, Jotaro peeked into their mailbox: a few utility bills, one of his medical fees, a coupon that expired two days ago ...and green stationary with his name addressed to it.

‘Ms. Noriaki?’

The handwriting as he tore it open was simple and linear, exuding a straightforwardness that hadn't come from the woman’s letter. Jotaro skimmed it, Holly fumbling for her key fob as his brow sank with dread as he realized who it was from.

 

Mr. Kujo,

We met earlier at a terrible time, so I would like to introduce myself properly–I am Kayoin’s father. I apologize if we frightened you earlier and don’t want to prolong your or my family’s grief. We were informed by the foundation that is investigating our son’s disappearance that you suffered amongst four individuals, but for whatever reasons, you all had intervened in a great crisis. We were told that you had saved our son’s life on many occasions and for that, I want to express my gratitude to you.

I know that our son is dead.

And I want you to know that we do not blame you. But my wife and I need time to grieve and be at peace…please, we need some time. I know my wife has sent you a letter, so I’m asking that we go our separate ways for the time being.

 

The urge to break something was tremendous; he was overwhelmed with rage and terror that he could hardly communicate, Jotaro sank to the foot of his bed, hands clenched to his face as he wept once more. Because deep down, he was still just a kid. A kid who had made it through, but at what cost?

 

 

Chapter 8: March 15, 1989

Summary:

Jean Pierre writes another letter with no address.

He stared at the letter, its corners worn from worrying them and letting them like every other letter to him remain in a wad, rubber-banded and coffee-stained on his kitchen table. He had tried countless times in the passing weeks to find the courage to express his sorrows, but the world was moving past him: Jotaro was continuing his education; Jean Pierre had originally entertained the idea, but his patience was never built for a classroom. The newest form of academics was becoming small-scale classes designed to hyper-focus on particular niches, and try as he might, nothing really struck him as necessary in his life. He knew how to fight, how to hide, and how to move on.

But here he was, struggling to put the pieces together.

He had remained in touch with Joseph and even received a rather pleasant phone call from Holly Kujo, the woman's life they risked their own for. Kakyoin would never know it, but she had admitted to feeling some sort of responsibility for it all, deep down.

"I'll never believe if my life was worth it."

Was his life worth it, too? Did he deserve this second shot, be it to continue the good fight or to carry on with his way of life? Muhammad wanted to become a priest. Noriaki wanted to go to university. Even the damn dog had aspirations....and Jean Pierre...well, he was here. Living. Praying and doing the dishes and eating alright and gardening and practicing his penmanship. He worked at the butcher's down the street and on weekends he helped a nearby wheat and barley farm. These kind men and women out here didn't seem to mind that he'd always have to take breaks in the weather or disappear for his pain medication when the steel joints and flesh rubbed too raw to bear, and they even seemed to enjoy the tall tales he swore were true but never revlied how much was a lie.

But was he really living? 

Jean Pierre sighed heavily, scribbled out the date, and continued to write.

 

Muhammad,

Did God spare you the troubles of physical pain? When you were taken from me, did the Gates of Heaven swing with open arms, or was the path long and treacherous? I fear, sometimes, that my path now will be as such, for without you–with any of us–I am sure to stray.

What did we mean to each other? Was there any purpose in our lives outside of Cairo? It’s been a month and all I can think of at night is you.

Maybe I should contact them. Maybe I should connect with them, and share our grief. But Jotaro is just a kid and he doesn’t need a punk like me giving off a bad influence…he doesn’t need his old man doing it, either.

God, I miss you. I miss what we never got the chance to have.

 

Yours truly, forever,

Jean Pierre

 

He folded it in a crisp rectangle, dabbed a beautiful honey-orange splotch of wax, and pressed into it the insignia passed down to him by three generations of guardsmen before him. These men who never bore a Stand, no, but their courage and loyalty akin to even a fraction of Silver Chariot's resolve and he would have been lucky to have lived and died beside them.

'The battle didn't end in Egypt.'

But the dead could never sing praise or give guidance, no. Not how he needed it. So, Polnareff quietly tucked the note, smudged with ink and tears, away in the wad of a crumpled letter, returning to his coffee without a single word.

 

 

Chapter 9: April 27, 1989

Summary:

The Kujos decide to take a holiday.

For his Spring Break, Jotaro and his mother were invited over across the world to the Mediterranean. His grandmother Suzie now opened two separate properties out there, one on the western coast of the Ionian Sea and another deeper in the Italian province of Emilia-Romagna. His mother had only mentioned a few days out, but he had overheard Holly and her mother on the landline, whispering about the potential to extend their trip. When the mention of a boat was offered, Jotaro was vehement that they ride on a train regardless of Suzie Q's pleas to fly them out privately. So far, riding on a train was one mode of transportation that Jotaro had yet to have his life attempted on.

The trip was spontaneous, but still, he saw it as a chance to see a new coast. New wildlife, a totally new ecosystem, really. Jotaro skimmed through the travel guide as he and his mother sat at a window seat for the train. They'd be visiting during the cusp of monk seal breeding, and eleven known cetaceans were present in the area, ranging from sperm whales and fin whales to pilot dolphins. 

'I may get to do some pre-college snooping on these ecosystems...'

“Oh, the countryside is so pretty,” Holly sighed, “Wouldn’t it be nice to live out here someday?”

He kind of liked it: warm breeze, pleasant green fields, and an entire world of crystal-blue depths just on the other side of the teaks. Void of turmoil.

“It would…”

They decided the best way to leave their troubles at home behind was to put an ocean between them.

He wasn't fooled by the low-voiced Speedwagon calls--the coincidence of Suzie Q having invited them out for the Springtime season was too convenient, timed perfectly as Jotaro was already set to graduate early in May a full year earlier than his projected timeline; maybe out of spite, he had plowed through his academics, scorning those who dared to believe that he had sacrificed the lives of others only to fall behind. Maybe this was some sort of celebration. A vacation, maybe.

‘But I am still haunted by you. Have you seen the ocean, this beautiful view? Did your family ever travel here for holidays? Did you like the wild world around you, too?'

He had half a mind to talk to his grandfather, the note he was already writing tucked between his marine life photography book, fingers aching to scribble something down and stuff it into the Joestar patriarch's books in his Italian marble office.

 

Old Man,

There are some things I think I have the right to know, now that you have aired your business into my air. I want to discuss this with you, alone, that there is another Joestar. How can you be so stupid, so irresponsible to make a mistake that may cost someone their life? Their peaceful existence? What Stand will they manifest? Who will hound them?

 

“Jotaro, sweetheart, are you alright?”

His mother was peering into him curiously, her copy of Little Women dangling from her left hand.

“Oh, yes, just…” What was the point of lying? “...tired. And hungry.”

Holly beamed.

“Well, if I know your Nonna, she’ll have a feast prepared, with all your favorites to celebrate you going back to school! Can you believe it? My son is going to university across the country, so brave!”

But, really school didn’t matter. Had he defeated evil? If he did, why was Jotaro always visited in the dead of night, cold sweat on his back and those terrible, green eyes laughing at him from a distance?

You cannot leave me in the past!

“Jotaro?”

He blinked and his mother was still there, alive and well, and a troubled look on her brow. 

“You worry about me too much, woman.” He grumbled.

“Well, it is my job...somebody has to take care of you, y’know.”

Her smile was sincere; he sighed and stared out the window. Springtime meant new beginnings, but with all he'd left behind in such little time...did he deserve these changes?

“Yeah, I know…thanks, mom.”

“Always,”

 

Chapter 10: April 28, 1989

Summary:

A letter from Mrs. Noriaki.

Jotaro Kujo,

I wanted to thank you for your letter; you may absolutely keep my son’s handkerchief, as I imagine you also want a piece of him to remember him by. As you may know, my son was a little odd–many kids picked on him for his interests and he embroidered it before starting high school. I like to think that maybe he would be happy that you now have it.

Noriaki was such a sweet boy. He liked to play outside and read, and I still have his Walkman that he broke when he was fifteen. He played it so often that the batteries burned out…I think that he and you may have been friends sooner if you could meet before Egypt. My son was a shy boy, but very brave. I knew he was troubled by something that his father and I could never quite understand, but maybe you also have a funny little imaginary friend at some point in your life. Maybe there was nothing wrong with the little green ghost he claimed to see.

Kujo-san, tell me, please, did my son die in vain?

Did he find peace in his actions? This Speedwagon Foundation has only recently told us of his confirmed passing…tell me, did he die for good in Egypt? Or, rather, did he protect you? Did you protect him? You are still just a kid and I will never hold ill feelings towards the suffering you may have felt. 

The Polaroid I attached this time is one of us at a summer retreat–-Noriaki never really liked the outdoors, which made visiting Egypt for a holiday a rather troubling time. We think it was the bugs and the heat and how flustered he can get. Looking back, it was an okay trip; his father was always working cross-country, so it really was just me and Noriaki most days. It had been the first time in months that all three of us were together for a summer, so Noriaki was very excited—he even brought along his bug-catching container that was so popular. It’s a blurry photo, but he did catch a mantis, a big green one. Maybe green like his little ghost.

I was hoping you could maybe tell me more about the trip to Egypt–-there is still so much we were not told, and I just want to find peace in my son’s death. Or at least remember him from happier times.

 

I hope to hear from you soon

Chapter 11: July 7, 1989

Summary:

And a return from Jotaro.

Ms. Noriaki,

Thank you so much, I have been visiting family in Italy and have not had access to a ton of time to myself.

I am not very good at expressing myself past my fists and, well, I admit I cannot tell you much. I don’t think I’m allowed to. I know Kakyoin fought with everything he had and saved my life more than I can count. 

I fear my life without him, but I don’t think I have the right to say so. There are more things for me to do in order to stop such events from going any farther.

I’m afraid. I think I can tell you this because I really don’t know you and I don’t think my mother can bear much more stress. She’s ridiculous and cheerful and all the things I can never be, no matter if I even wanted to be.

I don’t want to take that away from her, but I think I’m scared of what comes next. Coming back from Egypt just to sit at a desk that is too small for me and read textbooks that are boring…I sound awful. Not everyone gets to do that.

What if I am not ready for the next step? I think I want to return to what was once normal, but my normal was fighting after class and being followed home by obnoxious girls who could not take a hint to save their lives. But I’ve watched friends die and break, and I don’t think I’m ready to leave that behind.

I don’t think I deserve to leave that behind.

College frightens me; I don’t know what to make of myself. I didn’t take any career tests because of my absence and even though I graduated so quickly, I know the Foundation had something to do with it. Maybe my education isn’t exactly what matters–maybe finishing the business in Egypt isn’t done. 

Maybe I don’t deserve to have this choice, but I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry to trouble you like this, but things are changing to slowly and it’s hard to find answers when I don’t understand my own questions.

Sincerely and thank you,

Kujo, Jotaro

Chapter 12: July 10, 1989

Summary:

Jean Pierre writes a letter that he will never hear back from.

The pile grew higher each day, every week; letter after letter laid in an unsteady heap on his kitchen table, piling onto the spare chair and occasionally spilling onto the checkered, stained tile floor. He had been keeping up his end of the promise since the beginning of January, slipping the letters he had first written Avdol and Noriaki while on the final leg of the journey, intending to mail them for everyone to receive when they arrived at their respective homes. Now, Kakyoin's was in the trash, and Muhammad's letters were placed in a fruit bowl as the centerpiece of his squeaky kitchen table. Because now, it was too much to bear throwing the memory of him away. Because, yes, he had sat in the rain as he watched without a tear shed as cold latex gloves buried a boy's body in the desert and had its ashes stored in a research file.

But there had never been anything worth burying of Muhammad Avdol. 

When his inkwell had dried and he was tired of the typewriter with missing letters, Jean Pierre would take a walk. He'd go grocery shopping, find a park to sit at, and maybe read a book. Daily work to strengthen his leg, his hand. He'd go to the closest libraries outside of town and pour through texts on botany and baking and birds and every hobby accessible to man. Try and distract the mind. After all, he was lucky to be alive.

But Jean Pierre was hardly living.

My Friend,

I fear I may soon let you down once more. This will be another letter to add to my countless horde, but it is not as if they will ever reach where you rest. We buried the rest of your clothes in Cairo, and I buried your ashes here, in Loire with me. I have nobody left besides the Joestars, so the Speedwagon Foundation granted me that closure. A pity, really. I wanted to show you that my penmanship is pretty good for a man who had never attended a day of school in his life.

My friend, how I miss our time together. Fifty days could have never been enough, but the lifetime that I now lead is too troublesome and uncertain on my own; I believe I am no longer going to pursue my education. I returned to it because you told me it would be good for me, but now I fear that I am neither good at the scholars like you were nor that I deserve such a second chance when you are merely a thought in my heart. A severe loss to my soul. Mon Chou, I dropped out and do not know what to do next.

Maybe I should return my letters to your grave. Your father reached out a while back when I first returned from Egypt…he invited me to connect with him, somehow. I haven't had the courage to write back yet, but I believe that it may be healing to get to know the man who once called you son. He can tell me about the way you lived, and I, how you died with fire in your eyes.

Jotaro is healing, I think. Well, physically. There is not enough time in the world for a Joestar to move past the horrors he has saved the world from. And the world may never know how much that boy has sacrificed his life to preserve peace from evil. But he is probably still so stubborn, an asshat. God forbid he ever meets a girl he actually likes.

He had mentioned traveling back. And now that my life is open, maybe I should return to Egypt; I knew before we ever spoke that my life would be devoted to this battle Dio is dead, but that does not mean the devotion which he held died alongside him.

I should at least return my letters to their poor senders...should call Kujo-san, too.

 

 

Chapter 13: August 1, 1989

Summary:

Holly discovers a letter addressed to her son.

Notes:

uh, if you're in the States...I'm sorry. I am kinda lost for words.

Holly groaned, staring out the patio screen. Summers in Minato always got balmy as they drew to an end, so humid that even the bush cicadas fell silent under the collective sweat. But the mailman had just arrived, and she hated to leave anything important lying about.

“Oh, it’s just a quick walk…”

She tossed on some flip-flops and slid the front door open, the muggy air sticking to her skin and clinging to her hair upon impact.

The mailman beat her to the box, hopping on his bike and taking a disposable water bottle from the bin she had been leaving outside for service workers. Her neighbors would always give Holly perplexed looks whenever she was out refilling the box, but their elderly mail carrier seemed to greatly appreciate the kind gesture on days like these.

"Gosh, this heat..."

Holly peeked into the box and snatched the letters out, hightailing it back into the safety of air conditioning. Pouring another glass of the lemonade she had made, she flipped through the mail: electricity bill, water bill, some paychecks for her husband…and then a letter for her son. Holly checked the address a second time.

“Oh, from Morioh?”

She fumbled around for her address book, curious to see if her husband still had any long-distance family from the little seaside town. Often, they were both discovering that he had more unheard-of relatives, Holly’s own family surprisingly condensed in comparison. But this letter was unique–delicate egg white paper cover, a modest wax seal at the conjoined points. It was endearingly modest yet elegant in comparison to all the stark white with red piping homeowner bills in her hand.

She squinted at the sender’s details, “Kakyoin?”

The boy Jotro knew in Egypt?

Holly felt her cheeks burn; this letter was addressed specifically to her son, but Jotaro wouldn’t be back home from summer cram school until at least another hour.  And, of course, he complained of her snooping through his business…or at least, maybe that’s what she hoped for. Since returning from the hospital, Jotaro had begun to retreat even deeper within his own head, his usual stubbornness wilting into a quiet acceptance of things. 

It frightened Holly, honestly.

‘Oh, one peek won’t hurt!’

Like a surgeon, she peeled open the letter, careful to avoid any damage caused to the wax seal. She decided to take a small peek, just a quick skim of its continents, then return the letter and warm the seal enough for it to appear untouched. Carefully, Holly pulled a sheet of stationary paper from its envelope…

 

Dear Jotaro,

I appreciate your previous letter;  I understand those fears and would like to assure you that everyone experiences some similar sort of conflict when they are your age, or perhaps even older. I attached another Polaroid in the hope that it may bring you as much cheer as it used to bring me. Here is Noriaki at a soccer game. He was never as average size as the other middle school boys, so he didn’t get to play that often. But when he did, well, I hardly ever saw him work so hard! I think you were probably a natural at a lot of athletic things, but my Noriaki wasn’t, and I think that’s fine.

Maybe he told you, but he used to love to paint.

I kept all his sketchbooks, but I don't have the heart to open them quite yet. He used to paint on our porch when it was nice out—anything green was his favorite. Perhaps I can look at some of his art and it might cheer me up.

Have a good week at school.

 

From the envelope fluttered a Polaroid, Holly gently flipped it; the warm kitchen light revealed a boy, maybe eleven or twelve in a royal blue soccer uniform, his shin and sock guards completely covered in mud and grass stains. The boy looked exhausted, but through the wild flurry of red hair, there was a beaming smile, the dainty press of childhood dimples bestowing his face with a sweet expression of exhaustion and satisfaction. 

Starlings win! May, 1973

Holly hadn’t realized that she was crying.

 

Chapter 14: August 18, 1989

Summary:

Jean Pierre is given a second chance for a new journey.

When he noticed the address, Jean Pierre was perplexed; he had been out grocery shopping and in desperate need of a distraction when he came home to a lone letter popped through his apartment’s mailslot. It looked ancient, worn yellow by weather and an obvious journey passing through many hands. The postage stamp was generic enough, with a lotus flower as its illustration, but the handwritten address was rough, almost broken French.

And the address was from Cairo.

‘Who the Hell…’

He tossed his belongings onto his tiny kitchen island, leaning against the counter. These days, not even the Joestars reached out, though he could hardly blame them–-they had been pressured by the Speedwagon Foundation to minimize contact in case they were ever targeted individually. With Jotaro barely an adult now, it was primarily for the kid’s safety. Still, Jean Pierre wouldn't have minded a phone call now and then. Or, maybe he could call.

Still, sometimes it felt like those fifty days were nothing but a story told to them all in the dead of night--frightening, but just a lie. Fiction.

“Hm,” He snorted, “Remember he made us promise to write someday?”

Releasing the seal, a rather luxurious piece of paper fluttered out into his hands, the handwriting rather elegant and fluid. He skimmed the page and was shocked to recognize the penmanship from months ago. 

 

To Jean Pierre Polnaroff,

You may not have gotten my previous letter, but I have grown to know you through my son. My name is Amon Avdol, and I was informed that you and he were in contact before his sudden passing. I do not send this letter to alarm you, not to berate you with my grief. In fact, from what he had told him in the two months you knew each other, you were both quite fond of each other.

I want to say that I am in deep mourning for my son. He was all I had left of my old life and now there is little to remember him by. I believe that you, too, may also be in a state of grief, so I wanted to extend my comfort to you. I have given you my address, as well as written the telephone number I used. I apologize, however, as I understand you are French and I am rather insufficient in the language. I trust you also practice English, as my son said that is what you used during your journey.

I know this is not the time to trust a stranger, but I believe that my son saw something in you that brought courage out of him. I would be honored to shake your hand and welcome you to my home.

Take care.

 

Jean Pierre read the letter a second time, his eyes prickling with sudden tears.

“When did he get the chance to tell you about me?”

They seldom had the chance to speak to family while on their crusade, and Polnareff never cared. All his family had died beforehand and his relatives were too far removed to get in touch with. But the rest of them somehow managed to maintain a connection with their loved ones over the phone and telegram, depending on what Joseph could get a hold of for them, even Noriaki, whose parents hardly knew where he was. Muhammad often chose to write letters, never sharing much of who the lucky recipient was.

And now it started to make some sense to Jean Pierre.

“You…you never told me you spoke to your father of us.”

He checked the country's address again: Cairo. He had been on his own for almost nine months now, with no direction or conviction in sight. His rent was piling up and this changing world didn’t need another sailor working the docks. He stared at his apartment, its peeling wallpaper, dingy kitchen, and squeaky front door. Maybe Lior would no longer be his resting place.

‘I can sell things for a ticket.’

One way, no turning back. He hadn’t really been built for a stagnant lifestyle and only needed his wits; Polnareff clutched the letter to his chest.

He was going back to Egypt.

Chapter 15: September 3, 1989

Summary:

Jean Pierre writes another letter to Avdol, the promise of return on the tip of his pen.

Avdol,

I cannot express how deeply I am grateful for your divine intervention. Cairo feels as if it were years ago…and it hasn’t left me.

You haven’t left me. Your father has requested that I come and visit him to learn more about you…am I nervous? Scared? Words cannot express quite the turmoil that I feel inside my heart. I

have spent months running away and now I must face your final resting place.

How is it that we have been pulled apart yet are drawn near to each other?

Tell me, in your afterlife did God decide that you could still take me from such heavenly distances? Or did he abandon you here in the desert and me in the countryside until our wandering souls could meet as one finally?

Your father calls you Mohammad. You never even shared with me your first name. Were we destined to drift apart?

Avdol, I worry about the future. We may have defeated Dio in the dunes of Cairo, but I fear that there is still evil, so long as he has followers and tools that we were unable to kill off; our Stands were gifts from the stars above, but Dio’s were artificial, filled with malice and lacking their own will.

There could be dozens of Stands now and we will never know its full extent.

I think when I travel to Cairo, I will search for these tools. The hag had mentioned arrows…surely there are more out there. The world of the supernatural was more of your speed, but I’ve got nothing left but time and an empty head. 

I am accepting your father’s aviation this morning and should arrive by training in two days–by then, maybe you will have graced me with a dream.

Anything.

With love and loyalty, J.P.

 

 

Chapter 16: September 12, 1989

Summary:

Jotaro finally hears from the last crusader.

Strangely enough, of all the people whom he could expect a letter from, Jotaro wasn't thinking of Polnareff. In fact, he just assumed the young man didn’t even know how to write.

But here it was, a quaint, off-white envelope with exquisite penmanship addressed to him in an intimate airy flair of English.

 

Jotaro-san,

That is correct, yes? I have had quite a bit of free time these days and am learning what I can about your culture and our friends no longer with us. I do not wish to be rude, though, so if that isn’t the proper title, I apologize.

 

Jotaro snorted; he was rather eloquent.

 

How is school? The Foundation granted me access to your high school graduation announcement; I saved a few of the newspapers they let me print out and have them taped up to my fridge. You really were the smartest of the bunch and had a hell of a lot of successes like that. Are you adjusting all alright? Have you picked a career path?

We honestly, under more pleasant circumstances, should talk over the phone. I just got a new landline, though I’m afraid I won’t be needing it soon.

I must be frank with you, Jotaro Kujo–we may have left Cairo, but I fear there may still be evil lurking out there. Waiting. Recently, Avdol’s father reached out…he invited me to visit him. He still lives in outer Cairo; I plan to leave by the end of the week by plane. I

can’t believe that out of all the horrors we faced, flying was the easiest to overcome. I guess that, when it’s our time to go, there’s nothing we can do about it.

There may be something out there, Jotaro. I will not ask you to abandon this brand new life you are just starting, deservedly, if I must say. I am so proud of your new beginning, I wish I could say the same for myself.

 

I will keep in touch with whatever information I dig up; please tell your mother I love her.

J.P.P

 

It could have just been the coffee pot's effects wearing off, but Jotaro felt ill in the head; his thoughts swirled and a deep tidal wave of dread began pummeling his brain.

'But we finished the battle in Egypt!'

Jotaro stumbled into his desk, knocking over his ceramic SeaWorld mug and sending his notes flying across the now-soaked floor. He was finally settling back into his life, the world now offering to him more than heartache and disaster! And when he finally heard from one of the few survivors, it was a request to return to Hell itself.

As if their lives outside of the battle didn't even matter.

 

 

Chapter 17: October 2, 1989

Summary:

Another day where Holly is feeling blue without the men in her life by her side.

Ever since third grade, Holly had always made some sort of meal each day for her son.

Before then, his father would cook, wowing them both and stashing leftovers into Jotaro’s eager lunchbox; when he started to work abroad, Holly took on the kitchen tools and surpassed her mother-in-law's expectations. It didn’t matter the occasion or how busy they both were, Holly would always have something packed or left out, from udon and soft-boiled eggs & katsu curry to a personal American favorite, breadcrumbs, bacon, and macaroni and cheese casserole. She scoured her Nonna's Sicilian recipes for her son's incredibly versatile appetite, often coming to her mother for guidance and spices advice.

It was a pride she shared with very few, many other mothers in her circle jealous that, while their children would blow their summer chore allowances on expensive dinners and convenience store snacks, her son was almost always home by five o'clock, ready to spend the evening handing her ingredients. Even in secondary school, Jotaro would ask for something homemade at least once a day; he was a champion of leftovers, insisting that they tasted even better when sitting in the fridge for a few days.

And then he disappeared for fifty days.

'But it was never his fault.'

Holly was cleaning through their attic, which stressed to her and her sinuses already acting up. Jotaro hadn’t sent her any mail as of late and her son only called twice in the past few months, both times falling asleep at his desk. To get ahead, he had decided to stay in the United States for a summer internship on the Atlantic coast tracking several cetaceans' migration paths. At that time, he would mail her leftover field sketches he made, their detail and delicacy bringing tears of joy to Holly's eyes. She had chosen for herself to drop out of university, her father smothering her with support when she met Joji. Even when she confided in her role as a housewife, she never really cared for what could have been. The school was never her strong suit. either way.

But her son's notes tore away as what could have been.

Just like his father.

'It isn't his fault.'

So here she was, stress-cleaning to distract her mind; Jotaro had come home for a single weekend or Labor Day, taking them both out to the evening hot pot venue before catching his flight back to the Pacific Coast. Now, two months on, she had heard very little, a quick phone call here and there the only means of peering into his new world without her.

Holly popped open another box labeled, ‘Primary School.’

“Christ,” She wiped her brow, “There’s just more and more to sort through in this house…”

The first thing that tumbled out was one of Jotaro’s old lunch boxes, an aluminum can shaped and painted to resemble the Scooby Doo Mystery Machine. Holly suddenly laughed; her son had carried it around for many years and had started many scuffles over it. Now, its paint was chipped and latched faulty…but Holly tucked it right back.

‘That poor boy’s mother probably only had these types of things left of her son.’

Holly bit back hot tears and slowly hugged the lunch box, sitting back on her knees in blank thought. That mother… said her name was Kakyoin. Holly wasn't indulged in the details, but her son had confided one night early in his recovery that the young man simply didn't make it back.

"But without him, you wouldn't be here," Her son hardly cried, "So because of him, you are here, still."

‘What’s this?’

Holly's focus was interrupted once more–peeking out from the lunch box was what appeared to be a scrap of paper, its blue faded to a pale gray with age and water stains.

 

Jojo,

A reminder that I love you! Today I packed you some yakitori kabobs, I tried some corn halves, so please tell me what you think. There’s enough if you would like to share, or save some for a snack if you get home before me; I hope your day isn’t too tough. I know your dad is planning something special this upcoming weekend, so maybe he will be home when you get out of school :D

I love you!

Holly bit back some tears; Joji had been planning a camping trip out to the Shikoku mountains, but before the weekend came, he was called away for extended hours in Kyoto. And all that Friday night, Jotaro refused to speak, refused to eat. He just disappeared into his bedroom and shut the lights off, no matter what she tried to coax him out with.

Maybe she & Joji should have split things off sooner. Divorce had never been an option, both parents agreeing that there wasn’t a need to officiate the split, but Holly knew that her husband wanted to keep it all quiet. Keep things smooth for his career and, hopefully, for their son's sake. He loved her, yes, but she knew deep down that she'd always play second field to his work.

‘You were never ready for this life, no, not, really…us Joestars are always running towards something out of reach.’

When Jotaro was little, she had wanted a bigger family and more trips to see her parents and perhaps Joji and her to renew their wedding vows; she had planned holidays to England and America, thrown her whole life away in the United States to uproot away from her family, declining life in Italy and New York for this realm of xenic stares and the unnerving way their neighbors ogled at her hair and her Midwest drawl.

Holly had wanted life itself and now…well, now all Holly wanted was her son home. Standing in the doorway. Handing her ingredients. In her arms.

She’d cook for him in an instant.

 

 

Notes:

creating some details for existing characters... Joji means 'stature' and 'second'. This appears to be a popular name from the late 40s / early 50s when Holly and her husband would have been born.

Chapter 18: October 9, 1989

Summary:

Jotaro meets someone new

He had finally gone back after Fall Break to San Francisco, bundled up in the new turtleneck his mother had gotten him for the changing season; Jotaro buried his nose and sighed, the smell of the ocean outside soothing his sinuses.

‘Almost done…’

He was a little less than two months into his first semester at ULCA and already he was beginning to miss home. Out here, the food was expensive for its ridiculously tiny portions, and the streets were littered with trash from the constant protests and walk-outs on campus. As recently as of Monday that week, he had witnessed a mass school shooting in the neighboring state university, the following day four students were arrested at his campus for a disruptive political display around the incoming primary elections. The United States had never been a keen destination for Jotaro to visit; he preferred the company and peace of his relatives still living in Europe over any given attraction here.

Still, that sea breeze…there was nowhere else like it. 

‘This could use a few edits.’

When they had first been looking for colleges, Jotaro initially wanted to stay within Japan and attend Keio, but Holly (and Joseph) had insisted that he travel out West to find something larger than his comfort zone–-he had originally looked at the East Coast, but even the Speedwagon Foundation couldn’t provide enough causation for grants to get him access. Thus, California was it, his father having relatives and business partners in the state to keep an eye out for him. It was a decision he didn’t entirely regret, the size of the student body allowing Jotaro to keep to himself while still relying on a few steadfast classmates from time to time. But every time anyone bothered to call, it was always about if he had met anyone yet.

‘Let’s print this shit,’

His grandmother was rabid over the subject, her weekly phone calls melding from sweet and innocent pestering to persistent teasing on the matter; Holly was even worse, praying for questions about every little detail in his day. And his grandfather was no better, prattling on like one of them about how important college was for a young man’s social circle.

But Jotaro wasn't interested in new friends–-his research paper on invasive zebra mussels was all that he needed to keep his mind at bay. Jotaro stretched and stood, his crappy printer grumbling as he worked.

But as much as his grades shone, he was struggling to keep the rest of his thoughts at bay: Noriaki Kakyoin would be studying literature by now, attending somewhere in England. He’d be calling him every week, sharing what loads of gossip and political discord they could over a landline as they plowed through unending mountains of notes and reading material together. Hundreds of miles away, but right beside each other. 

Jean Pierre would have been finishing up his schooling by now.

“I should give him a call…later.”

Jotaro crisply stapled all seventeen sheets of text and hand-drawn field pictures in a neat pile, faxing himself a copy to archive for the time being. Because of the recent spike in assignments, his letters from Noriaki’s mother lay abandoned on his countertop, aching to be read. And he needed less stress--midterm examinations for the semester were only a couple of weeks away and he was practically drowning in his organic chemistry lab reports. Recently, Jotaro had turned to coffee for the first time in his life--he hated the bitter taste, the way he felt his eyes twitch and skin crawl.

Like time was moving faster than he could stop it.

"I'm done, finally."

In all nineteen years of his life, Jotaro had never been the type of person to take naps--now, he could barely make it through a day without at least an hour's worth sometimes not even making it to his crappy twin-sized bed and settling for the bristly carpet of his dormitory room.

His diet was out of whack, some days devouring everything in sight and others hardly able to stomach so much as some cheerios. During their last phone call, his mother had mentioned she was cooking katsu curry for herself and a few of her friends in the neighborhood and the rest of the day Jotaro was plagued with a growing appetite. The coffee out here was okay but damn expensive, Jotaro piling on university library hours alongside his laboratory technician assistant role just to pay for food at times.

'Katsu curry sounds real nice right about now...'

His stomach growled angrily and Jotaro braced the desk, shoving his chair out after a quick, defeated peek at the clock: a quarter past five. He had successfully written six sentences all within the speed of over an hour.

Exasperated, Jotaro stood and stretched, re-tucking his turtleneck. His neck paper was due in two days on the alkaline and nutrient proportions in his south bay seawater sample--the test had taken a month, where his fieldwork session up on day two of the semester had hiked three miles out to collect water samples for testing. Chemistry had never been his strong suit in secondary schooling, but with Star's rather immaculate graph drawings, he could maneuver his way through a majority of the material.  

Writing was becoming his strong suit, however.

Knock, knock!

Jotaro scowled and contemplated the prospects of pretending not to be home; he had given most girls the slip, but one could never be too careful.

'Star,' He asked, 'Go check it out.'

The Stand drifted into view, equally curious as to the sudden visitor. He watched as Its face pressed inquisitively against the dorm's peephole, a grunt or recognition light as a breeze.

"Jojo?" A soft, bright voice, "I've got the hydrophone notes I promised you!"

Jotaro exhaled with relief and stood with a quick stretch of his neck and shoulders.

'What a relief,'

He opened the chain lock and popped the latch, Stardust watching with growing curiosity.

Creeeak!

"Oh, hi...Irene, right?"

He had hardly made any friends yet but despite the unwanted fawning from countless female peers, Jotaro had found himself continuously paired off with another classmate in the marine biology department, Irene Langley. Recently, the two of them had started talking through the combination of their arguably stellar note-taking skills, Jotaro filling the gaps in her visual art and diagram illustrations while she in turn could regenerate information on a whim. It was a breathtakingly quick development, something that, above all things, seemed to fill Jotaro with a growing bundle of butterflies in his stomach.

"Yes," She smiled cheekily, blonde bob creased back from a dingy Santa Fe baseball cap, "Wanna grab dinner? I bet you haven't left your desk yet to eat, and I'm pretty peckish myself."

What a weird word, peckish. So...American; though his English was always respectable, Jotaro more often than not found himself perplexed over a mouthful of phrases that were used out here. 

"Peckish?"

Irene leaned against his doorframe and redistributed the weight of her textbooks between her elbows.

"C'mon, let's grab grub." She smiled.

"I uh," He suddenly felt odd, "Uh, can't. Shouldn't? I haven't finished my paper yet..."

"It'll be an hour break," Irene insisted, "Only an hour, maybe an hour and fifteen; when people don't eat, their brains do not work. So, let's refuel, and afterward, we can sit together in your floor's lobby. It's Friday, anyways, so I doubt folks will be around at this hour."

Jotaro grimaced, but heard his stomach growl again--there was no arguing with her. Irene, if anything, was persistent. Just like Holly, like Joseph.

'Would you like to meet her?'

He made sure to neglect during his weekly phone calls home that he had found a friend to connect with outside the mandatory connection of classes, especially since that friend, in particular, was her. Irene was from Europe, chasing a Master's in geology, specifically researching the impact of invasive species on California's coastline sediment nutrients system. Over the past couple of weeks, he had learned everything he could without ever betraying his interests in her, or so he somewhat foolishly hoped.

Irene was a couple of years older, maybe twenty-one of twenty-two, and had emigrated out with her family from Germany shortly before political constraints swallowed up East Germany. But she had left many friends and family, along with her dog, a mutt named Frieda, in her nation's capital. Though they were only recent friends, Jotaro couldn't help but feel like she was letting him in on a private joy, a secret love anytime she showed him pictures of her from letters from her great-aunt.

"Okay," He decided, "Let me save my progress and grab a sweater."

"Silly, it's not even that cold!" Irene said.

He motioned for her to follow him past the door frame, Jotaro taking a mental note of how his space may have looked to her: a cluttered coffee table with notes, a cupboard shelf he had bargained with some juniors down the hall to store all his treats and spices from Holly, and the growing mass of houseplants invading his windowsill above his loathsomely tiny twin bed. Completely American. Or, that was the goal.

He could hear her tip-toeing around," What's these?"

Jotaro turned from his stuffed closet; she was looking at his car box of letters, lid dainty tilted upwards with an incredible amount of care.

"Oi, don't touch that!"

He hadn't meant to sound so gruff, but she snapped the lid shut with a jolt; he could see Star Platinum guarding the lid with his fingertips, pressed with a possessive gentleness, an invisible, towering figure that Irene could be no more blissfully aware of. 

"Please," He repeated, "Those are from my...friend. They're overseas and what they've shared with me is private."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I'm pretty damn nosey." Irene conceded.

Jotaro's grip could have torn his jacket in two.

'Please, please, relax...'

"It's okay, let's go eat, yeah?"

He could see in this girl's face how her eyes trailed to an open letter addressed to Polenroff, something that he intended to finish later that night, but Irene said nothing, a gradual wave of relaxed laughter coming forth from her lips.

"What?" Jotaro looked up as he locked the door.

"Oh, y'know," Her smile was dazzling, "Not a lot of guys write letters. Makes you kind of cool, in my book."

'Cool?'

Those butterflies were starting to multiply.

 

 

Notes:

Irene (jotaro's wife) has finally come to fruition. I am honestly fascinated by her existence and appreciate that Araki never did much with her--now I get to fill those gaps.

Chapter 19: October 25th, 1989

Summary:

Jotaro sits and tried to write a letter to Irene, thinking that their friendship is starting to become more than that.

Jotaro sighed and stared blankly at his laptop, his new report on invasive zebra mussels curbed at a blunt and uninspiring paragraph about their gestation period; midterms were a few days away now and he was feeling unprepared. 

‘She’s waiting for you to answer.’

Irene’s letters were stuffed in a drawer by his bed, half-opened and half-read.

‘She’s got a life outside of all of this…’

He had learned while she left to do a research project on coastal vegetation in Baja, not much after their first evening together and had promised a letter each day; so far, she was surpassing his stamina of the pen and had given him a letter almost every day, bundled neatly in a larger yellow envelope with two weeks stamped on its postal. The letters themselves were adorably brief, Irene's cursive more akin to a researcher's scrawl and achingly delicate...nothing like his own curt, smooth penmanship.

They had been seeing each other outside of academic necessity for less than a month, Jotaro was convinced that it was practical to see each other for the sake of their combined studies--she was a botanist in training, and what better way to succeed than to have a complimentary partner?

'And she's rather cute, yeah?'

Irene was bubbly, brash, and far bolder than he'd ever given himself credit for. 

Jotaro's stomach grumbled; Irene had promised brunch--something delightfully American that she had introduced to him--once she got back, so he'd sick to the canned soups and instant cups he collected in order to save up and treat her to a mimosa and coffee when she returned. 

'And she said she would read your paper, too.'

Which meant, now, he had maybe two or three days to finish it all up.

'But you're going nowhere tonight'

With crippling defeat lurking on the screen of his computer, Jotaro checked the clock: a quarter past nine o'clock at night. His morning lab would be brutal, so his classmates foretold, so off to bed it seemed. Back and shoulders aching, he showered in silence, diligent to ignore the pink circles of flesh that dappled his chest, back and shoulder blades. Scar tissue was nothing, anyway.

"You got nothing compared to..."

Could anyone in his lectures see through him? Could they see the betrayal his eyes and lips sometimes crumbled too, how the mere opportunity to study and pursue life itself was at the cost of someone who deserved it and so much more? Could the professors see the weakness in his heart? Did anyone truly care where he came from outside of the country's growing fascination with the Old World?

He brushed his teeth, flossed, and repeated the process once more, watching Star floating in the depths of his hallway with a patient gaze. How separate were they, even?

'You do not deserve me.'

'But I am in you, and you are in me.'

He did not deserve such a comfort, maybe.

 

Irene,

I hope you're doing well out in Tijuana. I've heard that the food is great and that the beaches are never-ending. Truthfully, I appreciate every letter you've given me; they brighten my day and I cannot wait to share with you my finished paper...

 

Jotaro stared at his writing and felt himself stiffen--did he miss her? Could he admit that so soon? Anyone could miss somebody, so maybe it was the natural path of their letters to bring that out. When he'd fall asleep all alone, the dark felt strange...no longer a comfort, but a test to his sanity. Isolation had felt so freeing until now; he could ignore--bury it--the world outside of him and all the people still in his life for the merciful excuse that he simply was too busy. That he really couldn't afford any distractions.

'Hear your voice in the night, lose myself in those eyes...'

Egypt was months far gone, so why couldn't he move along, too?

"Fuck, don't let this kill you."

He didn't realize how strong his grip on the pen was, pink welts puffing up on the digits of his left hand. Star had descended from the ceiling, a book tucked under His arm and gaze overflowing with concern.

'Sleep, maybe?'

Jotaro suddenly laughed, "I'm talking to the ceiling, yeah? Do you want to do to sleep?'

Star shrugged and refused to move, 'Maybe sleep will let you relax.'

Maybe.

"I'm going to finish this, please."

 

...with you, I think you might like it. Midterms start Monday and I honestly do not feel prepared, but I'll manage. I hope you've been studying, too, but knowing you, I doubt it. I only seem to distract you from our studies, these days. Do you feel the same way?

I'm starting to arrange for the Thanksgiving holiday off; we've never celebrated when I was home, but my mother is beyond ecstatic to add it to our family calendar. I'll be returning to Emilia Romagna with Nonna Suzie, or perhaps somewhere on the East Coast at my grandfather's, a useless man...they seem to be disagreeing a lot more often, and have booked themselves separate plans for the holiday.

 

Star shook his head, 'He is not useless, you are still angry.'

Jotaro sighed, advertising his gaze, "I am."

He had crumpled the letter, its shape contorted within his fists.

"I am," He hated how hot his cheeks were, "But can I blame myself? Can I handle it? He would be here, with me, if I had moved quicker. If I had used my wits and acted sooner. It could be him here, living a life that I am merely a shadow of if I could have found him sooner. But I'm here instead, alone, and he'll never even be eighteen. And that bastard of an old man has the gall to tell me and not his daughter--my mother--that there is another of his own! He...he..!"

Ring, ring!

Holly's number appeared on his landline, Jotaro blinking in disbelief at the odds.

Star didn't shake his gaze, 'Answer it?'

"I can't..." Jotaro swallowed his thought, "But...she hasn't heard from me in weeks."

He leaned over and grabbed the phone, holding his breath.

"Jojo, you're awake!" The brightness in his mother's voice was astounding.

"Mom, sheesh, it's--" He checked his watch, "--almost five in the morning by you, why are you up?"

Holly, for the faintest breath, sounded hurt, "Well, I'm your mother and I miss you, duh!"

"Okay, okay, damnnit, you're so loud, you're echoing..."

'Be nice, she cares for you.'

He bit his lip at the scolding and rubbed his eyes--should he tell her? It was just another boulder somebody had given him to shoulder, but he could it, right? He handled everything since Egypt and even before then; his father never called, never wrote home. Some nights he'd heard Holly sobbing quietly into the landline and others they sat at the table, sharing a blank stare neither ever wanted to admit to.

"How's it been, sweetheart?" Holly interrupted his thoughts.

"Oh, uh," Jotaro decided to turn to his studies, "Classes are average, kind of boring. But not boring as if they don't have something to offer. I've learned a lot, but the workload is insane."

"I bet, but I'm sure you're so good at what you do, now that it's something you care about."

There was no malice, only support in her words--an acknowledgment he didn't realize he'd been waiting for his entire life.

"Mom, I need to tell you something..."

But his lips forze mid-proclamation, staring at polaroids him and Irene had taken on their last weekend out, now snug under a magnet on his mini fridge. 

'She shoulders plenty, anyways. Save it for the holidays.'

"Anything, yes?"

"I uh," He stopped staring out the window, "I...really miss your cooking."

He knew her face was positively radiant, "Oh, you should have said so sooner! I can visit--"

"You've been dying for an excuse, haven't you?"

"Well," She sounded as him recomposing herself, voice sterning in a way that honestly made him laugh, "I suppose I could come visit, is that okay? I haven't been out in a while and your grandfather is thinking of heading to the West Coast for some research--"

"Gigi?" Jotaro hated how cold he sounded, "Honestly, Mom maybe...maybe after midterms, okay? I'll be home for Thanksgiving, anyway."

"Oh...okay."

"I promise," Jotaro insisted.

His mother sighed, static crackling, "No, I understand, dear. I do...do you have an early day tomorrow?"

"Yes,"

"Then, maybe you should get some sleep. We can talk again later."

There was a change in pitch, the faintest of wobbles that he swore he couldn't be imagining, but before he could stop he was saying goodnight and goodbye, hanging up before his mother even finished her farewells.

Then, it was just him.

Alone. Silent.

'How could you?'

He wasn't sure what exactly he was upset at himself for--at this moment, he didn't care. Jotaro tried to refresh his plan: he'd heat some leftovers from the cafeteria up, read from his shelf of thrift-shop books, and maybe make some chai with milk. Star floated in the corner, leaning forlornly on the windowsill.

In their drawer, Irene's letters were aching to be answered. And Noriaki's were demanding that they be heard.

'You could do that, too,'

But sleep is simply easier.

 

 

Chapter 20: October 30th, 1989

Summary:

Suzie Q. invites her daughter and and grandson out to New York for New Year’s Eve, aware of some tension between Jotaro and her husband.

Notes:

yo, had to take a break to clean through a bunch of oneshots and wips! I'm going to try to get back to a weekly posting schedule, but more realistically every other week. For the handful of folks still sticking to this, thank you! It's tough writing these days.

Suzie smiled, satisfied with the way her newest peacock feathered pen flew crisply across its path, smooth satin blue ink a tidal wave of elegance and refinement across oxen white canvas. 

 

Buona sera, mia Familia,

It feels like ages since I've last heard from you two! I had been hoping to arrange some sort of surprise visit but learned from my husband that Jojo is unable to get away from school for the American Fall Break...I am sad, and but I too am quite frankly tied up with business; clients are so pushy to adhear to whatever is trending--you would not believe the demand for faux fur these days, with all this growing protests! But alas, that is to be expected for this time of year! The orders for Christmas are already pouring in, and with the holidays so excitingly close, I have yet to even look at my own merry magic-making priorities!

Speaking of the holidays, mi amorina, Holly, will I see you soon? We could do Christmas in Emiglia-Romagna, or perhaps Lombardia? I hope to see you sooner rather than later, but we can always aim for New Year's, maybe in grand ol' New York City. Joseph has been begging me to take a turn spending the New Year in America, and eventually, I guess I must relent; he has been rather...wayward, perhaps. Holly, does he call you often? Joseph loves you and misses you, even after all this time, I still awake to his scream in the dead of night.

Your father has lost so much, I imagine my business will continue to drift us all apart. I imagine, Holly, that he has already drifted away. He travels too much, but who am I to talk?

Holly, will you call? It's been weeks since we last spoke, and I promise I will keep a landline close to my desk! 

Ti voglio bene, mi teresa.

 

And as she signed with all the gradneous of a queen, Suzana stared at her office--its grand spools of expensive silks and cottons and all the embroidery work she had been teaching her self to fit with the changing trends, how sweetly her sewing machine gleamed in the sunlight and a portrait of herself with the finest figures in high fashion-all men, mind you--Susana a bright, imposing spark amongst the business' brightest. She sighed wistfully, taking in the cluttered contents of her office; before Egypt, her husband had become distant, always travelling for the sake of 'research,' never bothering to tell her any of his findings. It was supposed to have been a partnership.

'Where is your husband now?'

Truth be told, he had never told her much about Egypt. No, he only spoke in a distant fog, stories that hardly felt like his own. There had to be guilt, sure, for the deaths of those young men, but as far as she was concerned, it was a necessary risk to be assumed.

'But you had nothing to risk in the end...they saved your Holly, and all of your blood came back alive.'

"Madame!" Her assistant poked through the doorway, "We've got another order to--"

"In a minute, please!" Suzie licked the lip of her letter briskly, stamping her wax insignia a little too forcefully.

Business was always calling, always taking her to new heights of success and...and...autonomy. Maybe this distance--the litteral and the figurative--was not as bad as it seemed.

"Ma'am!, it's Rose, he's waiting on the phone for you..."

"Gosh, Madonna, I am coming."

Susana snatched her her envelope, hesitating before stuffing it in her purse.

Where was Joseph Joestar now?

 

Chapter 21: November 3rd, 1989

Summary:

Finally working up the time and energy for a phone call, Jean Pierre and Jotaro share their holiday plans together.

Jean Pierre hesitated by the landline, munching away on his toast without much concern for the crumbs that were tumbling to the floor. The mice would take care of them, and in return, the two stray cats he'd been letting in from the balcony would take care of those. A routine, a natural cycle. 

He stared at the phone.

"Alright, c'mon," He hated how tired he sounded, "He'll pick up...he's gotta. It's the weekend, anyways, he can't be doing much..."

In a few swift strokes, he dialed the number Jotaro had given him through the mail, his grip like iron upon the plastic phone. 

Brrrrrrrrrrin!

Brrrrrrrrrrin!

Brrrrrrrrin!

'Nah, nothing,'

Jean Pierre sighed, but decided to go forward with a voicemail.

"He, uh, I know you're busy and all, with school, but...um. I'm sorry I haven't been able to call you...I'm sorry I maybe have ignored you, or made you feel like--"

CLICK!

The voicemail cut off and he froze; there was the sound of shuffling on the other end, a hurried mumble of two voices, one a woman's and the other's unmistakably deep.

"Jojo?"

Jean Pierre felt his blood halt, curious about the commotion on the other line.

"Oi," Jotaro sounded like he was just waking up, "...Polnareff? Is that really you?"

"Yes!" Jean Pierre felt immediate relief, "Mon dieu, I'm sorry to have...disturbed you and your company--"

"Oh," His friend sounded almost apologetic, "Irene and I have been studying for an exam and we took a nap on the couch."

"Irene?"

Jean Pierre smirked; he could picture how his friend's face scrunched in embarrassment.

"She's...a classmate."

There was mumbling in the background, then the static of Jotar's twisting the landline wire around his finger.

"Sounds a little more than that," Jean Pierre teased, "Anyways, uh, what's new? Do anything for Halloween?"

Jotaro grunted, "Please, these Americans are too fucking feral for that holiday to do anything during the night. Too many cops and too much traffic. Classes are fine, just getting ready for the semester finals...you?"

Jean Pierre struck down a laugh, but smile to himself. Jotaro was always so blunt, so brief. Information out, end of notes. There was little room, he supposed, for small talk in his mind.

'Maybe Star Dust is chattier...'

"What're you doing yourself?"

"Well," Jean Pierre looked at his kitchen: his belongings were packed up in two small suitcases, and everything else he had already sold or donated.

"Getting ready to travel," He said, "I'm ready to go ot back in the world, maybe do some sightseeing. Soul searching."

"You're a moron, yeah? Where will you be going?" Jotaro sighed, "I'll be traveling to Italy to visit family soon, so maybe our paths will cross."

Polnareff stare at his plane ticket to Cairo--rent had snuck up on him in September, and even after dropping out of school, he hadn't been able to pay fully for the loans. He hadn't had time to reach out to Muhammad, either, to explain himself. The world was moving past him.

"Yeah, maybe."

He caught more muttering on the other end, then some more shuffling.

"Oi, I, uh," Jotaro seemed distant, "I gotta go catch dinner before meeting with a study group."

Jean Pierre nodded, "Oh, yeah, go ahead. Call you soon?"

He could feel this strange reluctance from his friends, thousands of miles away yet somehow still within his grasp.

"Yeah...I'll write to you."

 

Chapter 22: December 8th, 1989

Summary:

Joseph sends Jotaro a package that will change the course of his life.

There was a growing sense of guilt in Joseph Joestar, the man hesitating by the doors of the post office.

'He doesn't need to be involved, does he?'

There was nobody else to turn to for guidance--Susana wouldn't hear another word about Egypt, and Holly was far too absorbed in the joy of having a child who was trying to stay in touch; agents at Speedwagon had advised against the action, but still there was this itch to invite in his granson.

The contents of the diary needed a second set of eyes.

Disguised as a container full of drop cookies, Joseph tossed the package down the shoot and double-checked the slot to make sure it fell through. He had debated sending an additional letter, something lighthearted, maybe with cash, but decided against it.

'He's strong enough, he'll be fine...'

******

Jotaro woke up with a headache, tangled in the covers of his sheets. 

Thump, thump!

"Package!"

His R.A, a sweet kid from Orlando, typically left any mail left at the dorm's lobby bins just by the door; Jotaro groaned and search for a shirt to toss on. The night before, Irene and he had gone out for dinner, their late-night conversations a few drinks too shy of any additional physical activity.

Thump, thump!

There must be something urgent about this one.

Click!

"Uh, hi," He forgot how much taller he was than most students, still, "Uh, for you! It has the fragility label, so I didn't want it to get broken."

Jotaro took the package and nodded, "Thank you."

He politely closed the door, squinting at the scrappy penmanship upon the packaging label. Fetching a box cutter, he sat at his desk and pried open the box, its contents tumling out with a heavy thud against the hardwood floor. When he bent down the pick it up, suddenly his head began to spin. 

From Joseph Joestar.

"Fuck...the Hell?"

Jotaro reached down and picked up the tin: inside it wasn't cookies but a journal, boud in a custom lock and leathery to the touch. Inscribed on its cover in the top right hand corner was something in Latin. The headache rebounded, sharp and splitting between in his ears.

'Wait, how did you...'

Somehow, his bastard of an grandfather had acquired the diary of Dio.

Anger welled in his heart, but curiosity got the best of him. Taped the the bottom of the the packaging box was a letter, the Speed Wagon insignia pressed into a crimson wax seal upon the the letter's folded lip. Jotaro tore it open, almost fumbing the diary's key that popped out. Another sleeve of pictures had fallen, too.

 

Jotro,

I thought at first that we would not need to involve you in this, but I unfortunately don't know anyone else to turn to. One of my men found this while on an excavation in Cairo; the contents in this diary depict our deepest fears: Dio's plan to achieving Heaven. Please, we must find time to talk--burn it when you are done reading it. Even if you do not understand it entirely, you need to destroy this before it can fall into the wrong hands. He has distributed these Arrows through his followers. We are far from finished. Please, you must--

 

"Not a chance, Gigi."

Jotaro tore the letter to pieces, tossing its crumpled bits into the trash bin; angerly, he took the diary and tossed into the fire, deciding to return his bedroom. He would not go back to Cairo, to the Speedwagon Foundation. He would not leave behind what he was just starting...what he had so clearly earned! Even as he flung the contents into the fire, the diary had come undone with age, pages of notes escaping the flames.

'I'm not going back, not now, not ever--'

Swish!

He had accidently kicked the photo envelope, bending to a crouch on the kitchen floor to skim through them in the morning haze. There were photographs from a museum expedition in the dunes of Egypt, men holding ornate golden arrows of great heft. Sifting through, the last image stopped Jotaro's heart.

'How dare you!'

It was their last picture together, all of them: Noriaki, Muhammad, Jean Pierre. All smiling. Jotaro growled but could bear to tear the image a apart; he hadn't answered anyone's letter, only Polnareff's phone call recently. Perhaps, there really was no escaping. Bitter, he rose and stormed towards the phone. Star had yet to make his morning appearance.

Briiing, briiing!

"Yeah?"

Jotaro grimaced--he had been hoping that his comrade would have already left town.

"Polnareff," He exhaled slowly, "We have a problem."

 

 

Notes:

I'm going to take a crack at the Stand Arrows--I've seen tons of folks give their own rendition, so I'm feeling up to the challenge.

Chapter 23: January 16th, 1990

Summary:

Jotaro promises to visit Kakyoin’s family and grave

To Mrs. Noriaki,

 

To start, I must apologize for the miscommunication; I have ignored your most recent letter and I can only ask for patience, I didn't mean to dismiss you. I'll admit, I can't remember what we've talked about last, it has been such a busy few months.

I started school at UCLA in the United States, out in California, where I can wake up and see the ocean, just like Japan, but from the opposite side of the world. Right now, I'm studying sharks and I am doing alright, but I miss Kōchi. I miss the cooking and the bike paths and the little Yairocho you could find at parks. It's sometimes just so busy here, I want to go back.

I miss home, but I fear letting my mother know because she may just show up one day without warning, that woman. But I know she just needs the company as much as I do.--when I was little, starting school, she got a tabby named O-Ei. My dad was pretty sure it was a stray, but who could blame her? Coming from my grandparents, she always wanted a big family, with more company. The cat was a real bitch, but I think it loved her, or at least the treats she always had for it.

Have you ever seen whales? There's dozens of orcas, pygmy sperms, and pilot whales that come close enough to make out their shape when they breech; whaling frowned upon out here, as is fishing for sharks, but from what my peers tell me is that they don't have enough legal protection to formally recognize a federal ban. Rumor has it that UCLA is partnering up with donors to protect the grey whale when they migrate back here.

The Pacific strangely is so different from this side of the world--it's gray and choppy; we don't get tusnamis but the earthquakes are dangerous. I already have participated in two shelter in place drills this semester. There's a lot more oil rigs out here than home. There are so many sea lions, but as cute as they are, they're extremely aggressive. The lab techs despise them.The gulls and the terns are even more trouble, they always will steal our lunch when given the chance, even near the city buildings!

How are you and your husband? I know he doesn't want to hear from me, or have you hear from me, and I understand it. Again, I am sorry for taking so long...I hope I am not reviving grief with this. I believe that, maybe, Noriaki would like it here--this school has a good art program, and he could studying painting and photography here, or even videography. It's getting popular out here in celebrity country. 

I don't know if it's appropriate, or maybe it's just gossip, but I think I've made a friend. Well, She's probably more than that--her name is Irene. We study aquatic biochemistry in lab together and she takes very thorough notes, while I draw diagrams. We've been going out every week or so and she's much more talkative than I ever could be, but she's nice. She seems to like my company.

I want to tell my mother, but I also don't want to hurt her feelings; I hardly have time to call her but yet I can have Irene spend a weekend in my dorm with no question.

Whatever happens happens, I guess. I wanted to writ to let you know that I will be taking a trip for school abroad and will not be back until the end of the Spring semester in May. I promise that when I have done and return home for the summer that I can visit oriaki's resting place, if I am allowed.

It's your choice, but please know that I wish to pay my respects.

 

With my deepest apologies, Kujo, Jotaro

 

 

Notes:

Some little references to some of my favorite Japanese films...

• couldn't find canonical where Jotaro was born or the town he lives in, but because of its proximity to Tokyo and general description, I'm placing him as a native to Koochi, which is where the movie "Ocean Waves" is set. The bird, the Yairocho, is a color little guy, also called the Fairy Pitta. I'd like to believe that, outside of being a delinquent, Jotaro enjoys birding.

• O-Ei is the main character is the movie/manga, "Miss Hokusai," which I adore. Holly just strikes me as a cat person.

Chapter 24: January 17th, 1990

Summary:

Jotaro prepares to voyage out to Egypt once more.

Jotaro reread his letter to check his handwriting, setting it down on his coffee table; in the common room, Irene was sitting at his desk, brushing her hair into a pocket mirror.

"How did you get approved for this?" She mused, "I mean, you're a freshie...I have better grades than you and they didn't ask me to tag along!"

Jotaro fished out a stamp, one with a little cat on it, and carefully labelled the Kakyoin household's address on it.

"It's a study abroad in Egypt and I have been there previously--I know the lay of the land. Besides, it's on museum studies for sharks and early cetaceans in the Ecocene...you're telling me you've been secretly taking courses in paleobotany?"

"You never told me you've been to Egypt."

Jotaro grimaced once more at his handwriting. There were a lot of things he was still keeping close to his chest.

"It wasn't anything exciting."

Irene smiled, vapid, "You're teasing."

She got up to stretch her legs and rummage through his stash of snacks, pleased and humming to herself as she snatched a sleeve of Ritz crackers. Recognizing the end of her inquiry, Jotaro folded his letter into its envelope, sealing away its contents until their arrival in Morioh.

"Will you write to me?"

"What?"

"I said," She draped once more unto his loveseat, dressed in a No Doubt tee and fleece shorts with a checker cross pattern in spite of the cold forecast for the day; she gestured with emphasis to the pile of letters, some torn open upon the letter casket on the coffee table and others dusted with neglect and allergies.

"I said, will you write to me? You'll be gone for the remainder of the semester...January Term was dull enough when you chose to take a museum ethics class when I ended up traveling to Honduras as we originally planned. You're always writing to other folks, is it so much to ask that I be included?"

Jotaro could sense the discontent; sitting upon the kitchen countertop, Stardust was watching, silently. 

"I'll do my best, I promise."

But Irene didn't seem to convinced--how could she? Despite her bouts of pouting and doting, Jotaro knew she was far more perceptive than she let on. It was in the way her words wrapped around her tongue, always filled with a questioning, challenging tone and a wary brow. But he couldn't be too harsh.

'Almost three months together and I hardly know what your life is like outside of Cali. And you really know nothing of me, too.'

Stiff, Jotaro decided to sit next to her, shoving his larger body between her and the beaten armstand. Irene's mood seemed to perk up, the lovers soon entangled in a clumsy embrace.

Irene sighed, chin in her palm and hand upon his chest.

"I hope you don't find somebody else."

"That's not why I'm going." Jotaro said.

And he was suddenly thrown back to when he was seventeen--angry, scared, and vengeful. Noriaki's body torn asunder and Iggy's blood thrashed upon Jean Pieree's terrfied flesh; his grandfather lying cold in the ambulance. They never found Avdol. He never heard what exactly happened.

And Dio's voice continued to haunt his heart.

'You are not finished with me,' It screamed and screamed, 'You're the only one I couldn't touch...think of how hungry I have been all these years.'

"Are you okay?"

He floated out of his thoughts--Irene looked stricken, face cautious and body ridgid, as if prepared to flee. And Jotaro reaised he must have been losing control again: he unballed his fists, slowed his breathing, and tried his best to relax his brown and lips.

'I have no idea where you came from, really. Who's hurt you before.'

But before he could apologize, his lover was already getting up, detangling their limbs as she lithely hopped out of the sofa seat and snagged her purse from the floating oak pegs by the door.

"Look, I bet you still need to finish packing and I gotta go...be careful out there, yeah?"

Jotaro nodded, feeling no need to move from his seat.

"Yeah,"

Irene smiled, "Good."

******

The flight itself was nothing special, Jotaro choosing to bide his time by stewing away in his copy of Gulliver's Travels while Stardust decided to steal pretzels for him from unsuspecting flight attendants. When they arrived in Egypt, at first it seemed not much had changed--there was a fresh paint upon most of the walls, and some of massive overhead national flags seemed to be newer, but outside of a few refurbishings, Cairo was almost untouched since he last left. Jotaro restrapped his duffle over his shoulder, dressed in his comfiest black slacks and a lilac cotton shirt Holly had sent him in the mail. Sometimes, it still smelled like her hot pot stew, or perhaps it was the trick of the imagination longing for something better for itself.

'Okay, Star,' Jotaro scanned the crowd, 'He's gotten be here somewhere..'

Stardust rose up above the sea of foreheads and scanned diligently, perched upon the humid air like a guard in a tall tower. After a few minutes, It grunted and pointed westward--Jotaro moved swiftly, pushing through the crowd as politely as he could. There was this sudden rush of excitement--he hadn't seen his friend in months! Yes, they hardly spoke, but surely nothing had changed too drastically. Surely nothing had--

"Yo, Jojo!"

That singsong tenor voice floated above the hustle and bustle of the airport and Jotaro grinned; he could feel his shoulder relax and his footsteps even out, surging towards the voice that called him once more.

"Oi, Pol!"

But as he discovered his friend, Jotaro froze--Jean Pierre was sitting upon a a lounge chair, a cane resting by his side. Above their heads, Stardust and Silver Chariot were enthusiastic, their chattering akin to dogs and birds. His friend immediately stood, feigning grace as Jotaro noticed how tightly Jean Pierre gripped the armrest for support.

"Ah, Vieille branche, I've missed you!"

But for the journey ahead--how he had lied to his family once more to arrive here and shuttered away the first real college romance to hide this quest, that bone-crushing, sould-shaping hug he received was almost enough to make Jotaro forget the true mission at hand. But, oh, did it feel good to be whole once more.

'The battle isn't over, yet.'

He smiled, oi, Polnareff, how come you never mentioned the cane?"

Jean pierre waved his hand, the two breaking the embrace after a few precious moments.

"Ah, you're in school! You shouldn't have to worry about things like my health and whereabout! Tell me, hm, why didn't you mention the girl?"

Jotaro flushed, "Irene?"

"Oh, how pretty a name. Is she cute?"

Jean Pierre winked and raised a brow, but Jotaro could only laugh.

"Too cute for you, that's all," He smiled, "She studies aquatic botany while I study marine biology. I'm looking into sharks but also really like cetaceans."

"Ah, so that explains the little dolphin pin on your cap." His friend stated.

Jotaro shrugged.

"They're cute."

"Dolphins are monsters, I tell ya'."

The two friends promptly found an airport cafe to eat at; as the two young men enjoyed jebena brew and basbousa, Jotaro felt in his pocket--he realised he hadn't forgot to mail his letter! Promptly, he stood, perhaps with a little too much force. Jean Pierre eyed him, curious.

"All good?"

"Yeah, yeah...I forgot to mail something while I was in the States."

"Oh, well i saw a post box out by one of those gift shops," Jean Pierre said, taking a sip, "Whose it for, Irene? Your mom? Tell me, how is Miss Holly these days?"

Jotaro located the box, "My mother is fine...it's for..."

But he trailed. These exchanges had been between solely him and Mirs. Kakyoin. Would that be breaking some sort of unspoken privacy. Not even Holly or his grandparents knew of the conversations, certainly not Irene. So maybe, for now, it was best to keep this from Polnareff, too.

'I can always tell him later.'

"It's for my Nonna."

Jean Pierre slapped his knee, "Ah, Nonna Suzie! Does she cook for you when you go back for holidays? I bet it's delicious."

"Yeah, she's...she's one of the best. Different food from my mom, but hard to beat."

Disappearing to mail his letter Jotaro once more returned, finishing his pastry in a few more bites before pulling a few note sheets from his jack packets.

"So," He spread them out, "My grandfather mailed me a diary earlier--Dio's, he said."

Jean Pierre's face hardened and for once Jotaro was grateful to see that stoicism appear once more.

"What do we need to do?" He asked in a hushed voice.

"We are going after the content of this...after something called Stand Arrows."

 

 

Notes:

Translations
• "Vieille branche" - old branch; for friends who've known each other for a long time or endured hardships

 

Jebena is a long-brew coffee tradition, which makes it richer. Basbousa is a cake-like pastry made from semolina batter, honey, and sugar syrup. Something is usually sprinkled on top, for example coconut, nuts, or just plain sugar and honey.

Chapter 25: January 19th, 1990

Summary:

A letter from Jotaro to his grandfather

Old man,

 

I can't say I want to be out here--you've yanked me away from my studies and now I must lie to Mom again. The only reason I could get out here so quickly was because a classmate dropped from the semester museum trip abroad for a death in the family. You're lucky Polnareff, or I, for that matter, even had the funds to get out plane tickets without the Foundation.

Gigi, we're only going this for the duration of the school program, then, I return to school. The diary contained few details, but from what I didn't destroy gives us two clues.

First, he had supporters outside of his Cairo operations.

Secondly, he has been writing theology.

The arrows that we know of--six, to be precise--have all been sold across the globe. We are going to track the two still in Egypt, according to a tip we received yesterday while claiming a hotel here. Apparently, there is a museum curator who may know a thing or two about one of the private donor's current collection items. I'm still surprised Pol actually smooth-talked his way into a meeting this afternoon. We'll write back when we travel to the next location.

Currently, we are in Cairo. Do not write back and i will not gie you our hotel--we don't want any further tracing.

I'll have to admit, as much as I hate this, I haven't seen Stardust so excited to be on an adventure again.

 

Kujo, Jotaro.

 

P.S ~ please do not tell my mother where I am...I can't lie to her again just yet.

 

 

Chapter 26: January 21st, 1990

Summary:

Jotaro informs his mother on his vague whereabouts.

Mom,

 

I'm sorry I couldn't write sooner. We have been traveling this whole time and things have been busy organizing for all our individual assignments. We landed in Cairo a few days ago and are in our hotels, all settled; the professors are arranging for dining right now (we'll be eating locally for the first few nights until we arrive at the dig sight) and we head tomorrow to the Museum of Geology to pick up our project guidelines.

I know we talked during the holidays, but I decided to take on an assignment to research cetacean taxonomic history--Egypt is home to the Wādī al-Ḥītān, a massive burial site for extinct whales and porpoises. Cairo holds one of the firsts and best preserved Baliasaurs, which I think you would find rather frightening. They were nothing like what whales are today...more like a dolphin with razor-sharp, bone-crushing teeth. My track is study physical adaptations,and I chose to focus on cranial studies to better depict how communication may have evolved from whales.

It's hard to picture that Egypt used to be under miles of water. I look around and I am taken back to when I first came here, with my friends. I miss them, all of them. Even Jean Pierre, who may be alive, yes, but he is not the same anymore. I feel bad for never calling him, never writing. Sometimes, I feel bad for hardly ever writing to you.

You may not hear from me for a while and I'm sorry. Postal services, even international for grant funds like ours, are rare to find and we will be deep into a desert dig cite for a majority of the months to come. I guess you may not hear from me until the end of the Spring semester.

There's so much to tell you--I think I am making new friends and learning. I think I am, finally, moving past the battles in Egypt. I miss your cooking and I miss my father, but I will be home shortly.

I promise you that I am safe.

 

With love, Jotaro

****

"Whose the letter for?"

Jean Pierre was peering over his shoulder; they were currently standing in the ammonites aisle in the Egyptian Geology Museum, keeping a consistent rotation of hotels in order to shake any potential spies Dio's allies may send upon them. Jotaro frowned and slipped the envelope into his shirt pocket. They had found their contact, a well-dressed man meandering through a sea of polished bones and split stones. 

"My mother,"

Jean Pierre shifted his eight, tapping his cane against the aisle for effect.

"How is she?"

Jotaro shrugged, "Fine...let's go have a chat with this guy."

'You should tell him about Ms. Noriaki, it's what he'd want.'

But Jotaro  stuffed the thought away--he was taking a risk reaching out to anyone while they were out here. It was best to let the least amount to get involved.

Besides, he could always tell him later.

Chapter 27: February 14th, 1990

Summary:

It's Valentine's Day and Holly discovers that her son is seeing someone.

Holly sat in her bathroom, half-dressed and drawing a bath for herself. Sadao had called earlier, and a gift had appeared on her front porch, but tonight she had instead taken herself out to the nearby dive, then the local theatre for a rescreening of Casablanca.

'But it's not like it's anything different.'

Tossing some petals from her roses into the foam, she slipped in, hair tied up in a knot as she fished for her copy of Anna Karenina off the closed toilet lid. Hot tea on the tub's lip, Holly sank deeper, bubbles and hot water breached at her chin as she stared at the ceiling.

Was her father treating her mother well tonight Did her son have someone he was thinking of? 

'Let him be, he said he was safe. If Joseph knows where he is, then...then he's safe, no matter what.'

She hadn't heard from her son in almost a month--Jotaro was in Egypt for a January term field assignment, a harmless field trip with classmates, professors, and maybe a few friends. In the polaroids he had sent her, Holly was pleased to see a couple reappearing faces, mostly young men and women in baggy outdoor gear, cradling nets, audio equipment, and notebooks. One girl, however, was prominent in every photo--honey-blonde and lithe like rock climber, she practically glowed upon the glossy pictures.

And Holly could weep at that slight smile upon her son's face, the two of them close in every polaroid.

'Please, please let him live a normal life again.'

But he had that apparition with him, still, right? Surely, Jotaro as safe this time.

When she had gotten pruny and the water turned lukewarm, Holly climbed out and towelled off. Relighting a scented candle, she sat back down in the living room, throwing a rerun of Naruhodo! The World on the television as she picked away at her box of dark chocolate and salted caramel truffles. But after an hour, she tossed her book aside and sat back down at her husband's writing desk, digging through the drawers for his old stationary.

 

Daddy,

How are you? How is Momma? I know there's not much that you can do, but can you tell me how my son is? He sort of told me where he is in Egypt, but I am afraid he may not be safe. Can you tell me if he is? I don't want to pester him, he's an adult, now. But It's been a month, and I am--

 

Holly stopped, frowned into her palm. Was that girl with him? Did she keep him safe, make him happy? Did she know his favorite things to eat, how to talk to him when he was scared?

'If she does, why didn't you tell me about her?'

Holly sighed and crumpled up the letter, tossing it into the trash. Fretting wouldn't get her anywhere, and Sadao was coming home early next morning. It would only be for a few days on layover, but still, it was enough. 

It had to be.

 

 

Chapter 28: February 22, 1990

Summary:

Jean Pierre sends a letter he has been lingering on

To be honest, he felt rather guilty. 

Like a child sulking back to their father after forgetting to call them back from a road trip.

Jean Pierre check over his shoulder; Jotaro had decided to spend the evening with his university, the two of them agreeing that it would be less conspicuous if they slept apart rather than share another hotel. It reminded him of his last apartment, snug yet clean, the glass vase filled with fuschia moss roses adding a nice touch to an otherwise benign room. He missed the lupine fields and all the chatter of farmer's markets on the weekends.

It must have felt good to act like a kid, finally.

'I hope he has the same address...'

It had been almost a year since he had reach out to Avdol's father; to think that he was back in Egypt, so close yet nowhere near ready to face him. His son had taken a bullet to the head for him. Threw himself into front of oblivion to save his sorry skin. 

 

My friend,

 

I can't believe it, but I am back in Cairo. My comrade Jotaro--he saved your son, once--and I are here to investigate some business, but I cannot say too much. We do not know what will happen and who else may be looking for the information that we find. We visited a museum and found that there are six artifacts that are powerful enough to create Stands--gifts of power like Muhammad's Red Magician. We've found one bt discovered it was sold back to Japan, while the other two were sold to a private collector in Napoli. Three more exist in the country, but no one has heard of them.

I am writing to let you know that you may not hear from me for ahilw. I know I already have left you in the dark, but it all will make sesnse soon enough. If he was still here, I thin khat Avdol would join us for another adventure--he'd crack a few jokes and wise me up to the world all over again.

I don't me to open old wounds, but I miss him. I'm sorry I could not be there to help you grieve.

When everything is done, I shall write to you once more. I will finish what was started and he can rest easy for good.

 

My best, Jean Pierre.

 

 

Chapter 29: March 2, 1990

Summary:

Kakyoin’s mother asks when Jotaro might visit

My dearest Jotaro,

 

I understand you are a busy student, so there is no need to apologize for taking time to answer our letters. You are very polite to apologize, but there's no need.

Please tell me, how is school? Last time we talked, you are studying marine biology? What type of animals do you get to work with, if you do? When Noriaki was younger, we visited Orlando in Florida to watch the manatees and swim with dolphins on holiday. His favorite were always the green sea turtles we saw in open ocean--smooth, calm, and and determined.

When I was in college, I studied reptiles; turtles were always so fascinating to work with. I did many a beach clean up in high school at Keem Bay in homeland, fearing that, hile there were no nesting turtles then, that some soda can or wayward paper bag would be mistaken as a snack!. Back in the sixties, there wasn't this big push to get folks involved in taking care of the planet like there is now, so we were very much oddities at the time. It was the only time I ever saw a basking shark--I'm sure you get to see those on the daily.

Are you making friends out in California?  I remember field work being quite lonely sometimes, all those days on lugging around equipment and getting muddy and waiting for hours for just the right bit of data...I miss it, though. I had Noriaki while I was in school, and I never got around to finish that degree. I stayed close with my schoolates until I moved to Morioh, then life carried on as it usually does.

I took a break while writing this to dig up a few old photos: the ones in the envelope are from our last trip together to Florida, near the Keys. I hear it's overrun with invasive pythons, but a decade or so ago it was so green and lush. That Norikaki when he was ten or eleven, and he was terrified to ride the paddle boat near the manettes. My husband, Hajime, insisted that he reach out and touch one, but my son was afraid of hurting them. Think of it, these big, spongy sea cows, weighing more than a small car, and our little Noriaki was terrified of hurting their noses.

Jotaro, have you ever considered coming out to visit? You would be more than welcome to invite your mother, a friend, or that very kind grandfather of yours, Mr. Joestar, along and stay for a holiday weekend during the summer when school was out. I bet classes are really tough right now, and you're only just a freshman! Your mother must be so proud of you. We woul love to have you.

 

Please do let me know,

 

Kakyoin, Regan (you can jsut call me Rey, if you'd like).

 

 

 

Notes:

So I decided to write Kayoin's mom as a few things...

A. Irish, for sure. The few pieces of official and fanart I've seen give her such a strong face and great posture. Every once in a while folks reimagien her as sickly and I'm just not vibing with it. We have no cannon name (that I can find) so I'm naming here Regan. It's a Gaelic name and sturdy th way I envision her to be.

B. Before marrying, Reagan wanted to be a herpetologist, someone who studies reptiles and amphibians; specifically, she wanted to focus on turtles. She got pregnant with Noriaki during grad school.

Chapter 30: March 7, 1990

Summary:

Holly tells Suzie that she fears for her son again

Mama,

 

I hope you are well and that the weather is nice out in Napoli; I know I should call you but it is easier to write my thoughts out instead. Things are so busy, with Sadao signing to a new record label and maybe moving out (though I really do not want to...this is the home Jojo grew up in and I still hope I can give it to him some day) to live closer to the city, I'm sorry I haven't been in touch. Sometimes I go through these waves of so many things to check off a list that the world moves past me.

Mama, are you and Daddy going okay? You haven't mentioned him in your letters and call--are things alright? I bet I'm reading too much between the lines, but I worry about you two. You often live so far apart that I worry that it may push you away for good. I worry that I myself am too far away from home, too.

Have you heard from my son? He told me last month he was in Cairo...I don't want to jump to conclusions, but does Dad have something to do with this? Jotaro swore it was for school, but I'm not sure. He was so scared when he came back last year when we finally got him back. I know he is strong, he is my son, but I am worried.

Please, if you know anything, write me.

 

I love you, Holly.

Chapter 31: March 11th, 1990

Summary:

Suzie receives Holly's letter.

Thud!

Susanna had finally returned to her home in Napoli from a fashion tour down south, back aching and feet sore from all the touring and factory inspections. It was high time to present her spring collection in Lombardi and of course she had to show up---just a quick appearance, she had promised herself. Just a small weekend trip and back to the house by Monday afternoon. But now it was Wednesday and she was exhausting, wary of her landline and its answering machine. Mail had been stuffed into her apartment suite's letter slot and tumbled across the flood, Susanna dreading the mound as she locked the door, kicked off her kitten heels, and trudged into the kitchen.

Mrrrrew...

Susanna sighed and turned the corner into the hallway; because Rose had caught the flu last week, she had asked him instead to look after her darling cat, a stray lovingly named Florence who may or may not be pregnant. The creature slinked out of the bedroom, a silky Macoon that shimmered in the rays of afternoon light.

Smiling, Susanna sat down on the hall way's footstool.

"There, there," She cooed, hand outstretched, "How's mommy's little amorina? Did you miss me, Flo?"

Another purr rattled out of her cat's throat, soft and soothing as she ran her fingers through the thick fur. Forlorn, Susanna count the spider veins that were starting to crop up--in a few days, she would be in Roma. Or was it Emilia-Romagna? Half the time, she hardly could remember.

"Oh, but I'm not slow," She murmured, rufflign the scruff of Florence's neck, "No, Mommy is just tired, always coming and going. Did my dearest Rose take good care of you?"

With a groan, she stood once more, hands on her knees as her back stiffened a twinge. Returning to the kitchen, she pulled out a fresh can of tuna and scooped out half for Florence, digging into the fridge for herself until she found something that could fit her mood. Rose had been kind enough to grab fresh groceries...especially the rock chocolates she always liked.

Susanna stared at the dessert, stomach growling.

'You deserve a treat, after all that you've been through.'

Distracted, she nibbled away at her bowl of sweets, lost in absent thought. The event in Lombardi showcasing her Spring Collection and its early purchasing period was just around the corner...she'd have to set up a checking account fo the event broker, and just back in with the venue she had originally booked....

Mreewww....

Florence and returned, a square, yellow-tinted envelope between her droll little mouth. 

"Oh? Did you bring me something, bambolina?"

Susanna inspected it: a letter from Tokyo. Her daughter's handwriting; when she was a child, Holly had been remiss with her cursive classes, the flow of her vowels now lopsided and consonants appearing wonky across even dotted paper. Susanna smiled--she still dotted her last name with a heart at the tailend of her maiden name, something it seemed she only used when sending word to her and Joseph.

'That bastard of a man, where are you now?'

Her husband, like Holly's now, was seemingly a ghost--Joseph sometimes called, and sent her plenty of gifts, but Susanna rarely saw him in person. Last time he remembered to check in, Joseph was back in Japan, but apparently nowhere near where Holly lived; Joseph's last phone call had tracked out to a little seaside town called Morioh, something ose had rung up in the registry for her. Running the edge of a ruby red nail across one of the envelope's corners Susanna sighed and slumped onto the floor in a seat.

'You never admit it, but our time is running out.'

Susanna open the letter, squinting from the absence of her reading glasses, Florence curling beside her foot as she stroked her fur. It seemed her daughter was worn out, the stress of all these men in their lives taking a toll on her peace of mind.

"That grandson...the nerve of him..." Susanna mumbled, rereading, "But, I guess I can't be too hard. University was his escape and now he's got to see his own path through... that's so strange, though..."

Her attention fixated on one line.

I think he's seeing someone.

In a brief moment, Susanna's mind wandered with dread--her Jotaro, a darling young man despite how much the world seemed the thrust responsbility upon his shoulders, grwing up to be missing like his father, or worse, aloof like his grandfather. He would fall into the steps of the men ahead of him, leaving whatever poor girl he fancied to figure out life on her own, even though he'd swear he'd be just a call away.

"Ah, dai dai, silly Suzie, you're being ridiculous," She shook her head, "Ah, Holly, you poor thing."

Susanna decided to skim over the part about her and Joseph, something that she really didn't wish to worry Holly with.

'Do you wish to move closer to home?' Susanna thought, 'Where even is home for you?'

Was in Japan, America? Could Susanna make this country here her daughter's home? To think in only a few years, they had all flown apart, each member of her family in a different corner o the world. She had grown up with a big dinner table, dozens of voice and the smell of warm food constantly in the air; here, Suaanna cooked for herself and Rose whenever he was around, and tok care of her own laundry and own groceries. 

'What a joke it all was, hm.'

Susanna groaned and rose to her feet, mulling over some prospects for dinner, her quiet feline companion filling into her footsteps close behind.

How lovely it would have been to invite Lisa over one more time.

 

 

 

Chapter 32: March 29, 1990

Summary:

Jotaro tell Ms. Noriaki that he will be gone for awhile

Rey-san,

 

Thank you very much for the offer to come visit. I promise i will when school settles down; I am rather stressed by my studies, though it is nice to find other people interested in the same things as I am. In public school, most kids cared more about what could land them fame or a high-paying job, so finding some common interests is a very nice thing. California is beautiful, but there is so much that can be changed--there's terrible plastic pollution in some coastal areas and the oiling is far too close to the bird and sea lion nesting spaces out there. People still chase animals and will bother beached whales to take pictures of them as they struggle. I hate it and I don't know if I can change any of it.

That's very cool that you studied herpetology. I personally don't like many reptiles, but frogs are fun. I guess i enjoy turtles, actually. They so calm and peaceful. i wish I could slow down like them, sometimes.

Thank you again for the photos, I am grateful that you trust me with them. It seems that Noriaki and I could have been friends well past just meeting in Egypt, maybe. I may have been too much to handle though, or too much trouble. He sounds a lot kinder than i was as a little kid.

I'm sorry but I will not be able to write for awhile now. My school trip is moving deeper into Egypt and we may not have reliable access to an international post office; when we finish our journey, you will hear back from me again. Please enjoy the start of Spring in Japan for me. The West Coast is beautiful, but I really miss the breeze and sea.

 

Jotaro.

Chapter 33: April 13th, 1990

Summary:

Holly reaches out to Jotaro once more

Jojo,

 

I bet you're busy, but I hope your trip is going well! It is so cool that you get to go to a top secret dig cite; when I was your age, I was studying archeology...I wish you could see me then, all slathered in sunscreen and covered in thousand year old dust. I didn't finish right away, but your grandfather pulled some strings to have me be present at the dig cite for a brand new species of human! Can you imagine? He had brought out the Speedwagon Foundation to study burial practices in Kenya, looking for something under the realm of vampires. How scary! I was maybe twenty at the time and seeing these bones were the coolest thing a girl could dream of. Well, maybe.

Have you found any whale bones? Are you eating enough? When you come back I can visit and maybe bring out some of that rice curry you like so much. I've been trying new recipes your father's friends have mailed me, mostly gyudon and okonomiyaki from their trip up north. Even though it's starting to look like spring, it's still cold and dreary enough to make soups a plenty, if you want that instead. When you get home, if you want, I will make you any soup you want. You could take some back to your new friends, maybe.

I know you said your safe and that mailing will be hard, but if you can, please give me a call. Please try and talk to your grandfather, or Nonna Suzie. They miss you and are waiting to hear from you! Sadao and I decided to travel to Morioh next week to escape some of the city tensions...we'll take send you some pictures of the ocean when I get them developed!

I love you, Jojo. I love you and I am so proud of your traveling back.

 

Stay safe,

Your mom

Chapter 34: April 20, 1990

Summary:

Holly and Regan's path finally cross.

Regan fished for the list in her purse, fingers rummaging against wayward chapsticks and crinkled paper receipts. Thursday was her usual grocery night, but with office hours and then research papers to grade, she figured it would be easier to just get it over with for the week.

'Alright, we need leeks for supper...'

Chink!

She swept through the dairy aisle and rounded the corner into the bakery, looking for something small and sweet for her neighborhood's book club that evening. A book from overseas, something new and flashy from California, was just delivered upon her doorsteps this morning by a friends, and already Regan was forty pages in by breakfast!

'Gosh, you're always in need of something to do.'

Tonk, tonk, tonk...

"Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry!"

A handful of of canned fruits tumbled from their shelves as Regan's cart bumped into another woman's, jolting her back into reality.

Regan stooped to pick up some of the packages that popped out of the stranger's cart.

"I', sorry," She repeated, "Sometimes I get caught up in my own head--"

"Oh, I was, too!" The woman waved her concern away, "No, it's my fault! My family says I'm ditzy and I guess I really am sometimes...I'm not familiar with this store."

She graciously took the can of pineapple slices from her and Regan got a familiar glance: blonde, shoulder-length bob and bright eyes with a baby-pink cardigan. 

'An American, out here?'

"Are you--"

"I'm visiting from Tokyo with my husband," The woman chatted away, "We haven't been to Morioh in ages, not snce my son was in primary school."

Regan felt a slight shift in her gaze, vision drifting past the woman's ear.

'Your son?'

She looked so familiar, yet so distant.

"I'm Holly, by the way."

'...wait a second.'

"I'm" Regen hesitated, "Regen. I've lived her my whole life--the produce is the past at this store, but the street vendors always have been meat and fish."

Holly looked please, undoubtedly making note of the advice.

"Ah, I see!" She exclaimed, "Well, thank you, I was going to make something here before trying it for my son back at home...he's on a trip for school and I'm hoping to surprise him for the summer, maybe with a trip out here. The ocean is just lovely, isn't it?"

'You have a son who--'

"Oh, how lovely, where is your son travelling?" She asked.

"Ah, Egypt! He should be in Cairo for research, I think."

'Thunk!'

'...it can't be.'

"Are you alright?"

On the floor the can of pineapple slices had punched open, the sweet and sticky syrup now all over her tennis shoes. Quickly, he composed herself with an embarrassed smile.

"Yes, I'm sorry, that sounds so...what a coincidence! I have a...friend visiting Cairo for research, too."

Holly looked amused, "My son is studying prehistoric whales; what's your friend doing?"

"Reptiles."

"Oh, how fascinating!" Holly looked at her watch, "Gosh, I better get going. I know we just met, but could i phone you? I'm here for a week and I would love to know a little bit more about the town."

Regan was still stunned, "Sure."

And after they had scribbled each other's post addresses down and exchanged house numbers, Holly waved goodbye, leaving Regan in the aisle all alone.

The odds were ridiculous, but perhaps...

'Are you Jotaro's mother?'

 

Chapter 35: April 22, 1990

Summary:

Jotaro and Jean Pierre take advantage of their continued isolation.

Jean Pierre fished out another water bottle from his backpack, finding a large rock to rest against as he slung it off his shoulder.

Click!

"Oh, dammit..."

Groaning in the heat, he leant down and snatch his hiking cane; in typical Speedwagon fashion, the company was shadowing his and Jotaro's every move. Recently, they had switched out his traditional mobility tool with a collapsible cane, durable and flexible and made from a titanium alloy to prevent weather damage. Jotaro stopped ahead, tailing back to leaned next to him.

"How are you?"

Polnareff teased, "When'd you get so concern, hm? That girl you got at home finally coaxing some softness out of you?"

"Sure, if that's what you think," Jotaro shook his head, "I mean it, though. How are they?"

Ever since they had joined back up, he could feel his friend's eyes studying the prosthetics. It wasn't unlike Jotaro to keep his initial opinions under wraps, but Jean Piere could tell he was very much intrigued, yet equally reserved of the matter. Polnareff flexed his hand, watching the chrome-tipped pinkie hinged at its artificial digit.

"Pretty comfortable, I'd say," He wriggled his left ankle, "I'm uneven now, but that hasn't really slowed me down. The maintenance is minimal because Speedwagon always gives us our best.

Jotaro snorted, "Yeah, they hardly fail to deliver..."

"I'm positive, though, that there's very little pain," Jean Pierre continued, "Really, I just feel a little lopsided and some discomfort, but that's all. You don't have to worry about it, Jo."

His friend seemed rather sad all of a sudden.

"I know."

'You still worry too much underneath all that damn tough bravado.'

"Hey," Jean Pierre decided to change the subject, "Who's that girl you keep tryna write a letter to?"

Jotaro's face scrunched up, much to his delight.

"...Irene."

"Is she pretty?" Jean Pierre teased, "Is she cute?"

His friend shook his head, "Shut up."

But Jean Pierre leaned further over the table, "Oh, Christ! This is big news for you! Y'know, you never struck me as the type to go for an American girl, is she smart? She must be if she's hanging out with you all the time."

"We've been seeing each other since the fall semester," Jotaro admitted, rather defeated, "She's...great. Very nice."

"I'm sure that's what every girl wants to hear."

"Fuck off, yeah?"

Jean Pierre scratched his head and stretched his legs, enjoying the pleasant pop of his hip. 

"Well, she's lucky to have you, seriously," He said, "You don't give yourself a lot of credit, but I'm sure you're very kind to her, right?"

He watched Jotaro's expression shift--there was something, soft, almost like relief, but Jean Pierre saw a weird twinge of regret; his lips drooped and eyes drifted downwards and distant, but in a blink it all dissipated, that cool and collected grimace once more taking stage.

Jean Pierre swallowed a sigh 'Oh, trouble in paradise...'

"I'm trying to stay in touch," Jotaro was saying, "But I don't want to tell her much--I can't put her in danger like that. It's bad enough lying to my mother, but now here..."

Jean Pierre flinched, "Did you say where you went?"

"Egypt, but for research," His friend explained, "She knows nothing about...all this..."

He pointed to Stardust and Silver, the two Stands chattering in their own gestures and language.

"Good point, I guess," Jean Pierre shrugged.

"I think...Noriaki would like her."

"Yeah?"

 Jean Pierre watched Jotaro, a young man almost as broad as himself, shrink a bit in his seat, shoulders hung inwards as he spoke.

"I think," He repeated, "That he'd find her funny, maybe. Hopefully."

"She must have some sort of humor, if she's putting up with you," Jean Pierre smirked.

Jotaro frowned, "I'm not that bad, asshole."

"No, no you aren't!" Jean Pierre laughed, "Nah, nah, I tease! I'm sure she's got the the same temper as you--Avdol would love to hear this."

Jotaro's smile was sad, but less so.

"Yeah, maybe he would."

 

 

Chapter 36: May 28th, 1990

Summary:

Letter: Holly worries about Jotaro’s schooling to Suzie

Mama,

 

I never heard back, are you travelling? Rose had called earlier and told me that when I last sent my letter, you were just getting back from the north; how was the trip? Did you get to go to any big fashion parties or exclusive runways? It must be so much fun to trot around the country like that--you should try selling some of your clothes out here in Tokyo, the whole fast fashion trend is making a come back!

Sadao and I have decided to postpone the move until Jotaro comes home for the summer; we want to give him some time to settle down from his big trip before making yet another move. I worry that he isn't sleeping, so close back to where all the nightmares started. I haven't heard from Daddy, either, but I guess I got to just trust that he is safe. If it is for a school trip, then he's got plenty of company and eyes to watch his back. 

But, Mamma, please, do you know anything else of his trip? I get the feeling that I am not being told something--Daddy is dodging my calls and with Sadao traveling out to Louisiana for the week, it's hard to distract myself from my son. Is he eating alright? Is he making friends. I know he doesn't like to talk much about himself, but I wish he would tell me how things were going, if he's making any new friends or not.

I hope he is.

Mamma, I hope to hear from you soon.

Chapter 37: July 8th, 1990

Summary:

Suzie Q assures Holly that Jotaro will figure things out

Holly,

 

Do not fret! These things take so much time...when your father and I started dating, well, he had a lot to figure out, too. Teenage boys are always like that before they finally decide to become young men. And our Jojo is already a lot more driven than your father ever was. Why, at his age, Joseph was still chasing girls and flirting with his friends, much less studying for a degree. You really, really have nothing to fear....

 

******

Knock, knock!

Susana startled from her slouch at her desk, groggy and confused. 

Knock, knock!

"Oh, Rose," She groaned, pulling on her scalp to ease an incoming headache, "Oh, my friend, you're always shaking me awake when all I need is..."

Her Diet Coke had become warm, the carbonation long gone from the morning while outside showcased a painfully dazzling sunset. Taking a bored sip, she sighed and peeled off the letter she'd been writing, now sticky and stiff against her cheek. 

'Gosh, maybe I should finally get some rest.'

"Madame!" Rose tapped once more, "We've received a letter from Egypt!"

Susana's eyes snapped open; the can clattered on the hardwood, soda splashing against her silk slippers and fizzling dully into the oak creases.

"Coming!"

She practically threw the door off its hinges, a nearby janitor startled by the commotion. There, Rose stood, shrunken by in surprised.

"Are you sure?" Susana demanded, "Please, are you sure?"

Her companion swallowed a breath, "Yes, yes, we've intercepted this from Cairo, going to London for your husband--it's dated to arrive in a few days--"

She snatched the dangling letter from Rose's hand, opening it quickly with a slice of her nails. There, the two of them stood, Susana trembling as she read, eyes racing side to side.

"...Madame?"

Susana felt her eyes prickle, relief wild and cooling.

"Oh, Madonna Mia, he's safe with his friends. Oh, oh Rose! He's still writing to Joseph! Oh, Holly, I must write her!"

"Wait, we still need to send this to Joseph, right?" Rose snatched the letter back.

"Of course, go ahead!" Susana was already back at her desk, "Yes, please! But give me a minute will you? You can send this, too!"

And she plopped back down, eccentric and driven as she attacked the rest of her letter with a fever of passion. 

 

...I promise you, my dearest, that he will return home soon. Just be patient, they always do.

 

Chapter 38: July 19, 1990

Summary:

Jotaro details crucial information regarding the Arrow's whereabouts.

Gigi,

I write to you with new information regarding our search.

Of the six existing arrows, we have relocated three: one which will remain with Polnareff, one we will hide in Japan, and the other we will send to the Foundation for testing. According to Dio's diary, Enya only held onto five, the sixth one being sold elsewhere before she could get ahold of it. If what you have said about Jousuke is true, there may be an arrow located in Morioh; we should confirm this before I decide where to hide our third artifact.

There are many things that Dio failed to test: how Stands may be affected, how existing users are hurt or affected, and among other things. Enya is also not the person who found them--rather, there are notes written in his diary about a exchange in Giza where Enya purchased these Arrows from a man named Diavolo.

We are looking deeper into this man's records; so far, he hasn't visited Egypt nor neighboring Syria or Jordan since 1987; we proctored a ticket back to Italy by boat in 1988, but he has disappeared since.

Our next step is to determine where this man is and where to send the third arrow for safekeeping. We will write to you when we arrive south; we will be visiting Khafre to get more intel.

Chapter 39: August 13, 1990

Summary:

Polnareff writes a remorseful letter to Avdol

Muhammad,

 

I know it's been a while, but I am writing to you from beyond your grave to tell you that we have found the remaining Arrows of the Stands. Though we haven't found his minions, Dio is closer to being stopped for good--when we retrieve these golden arrows, we will shatter them, bury the in the sea, or shoot them off into space to be pulverised by the sun. We have no idea how many other innocent people he has killed and no clue how many people he has tricked into his bidding.

My friend, I think of you and where you went. Your father had no son to bury; I have no gravestone to stand and weep at. You see, losing you has torn a hole in me and my courage I fear is nothing like it used to be. I can't imagine how Jotaro ust feel, but he is so young and full of ambition. Me, I can't even finish a semester of college. I think he may have a girlfriend, can you believe it? Him--that stuck-up, stiff, no-nonsense boy with a cute girl! Though, really, he deserves it. I hope he isn't trying to live life to fill the gaps that we left behind in his life.

Jotaro and I have been travelling for months now and I fear that I still don't know him any better--am I a coward? Have I really changed so little? He is almost like a new person at times, leagues ahead of me. What if this is the last time him and I see each other?

Muhammad, I miss you. I miss how warm you were towards me; I miss what you could teach me about the stars and how to read poetry. When I die, will you read to me again?  Will you be happy to see me when I am all broken and old? My leg hurts everyday and my hands ache worse and worse. There's always new technology to keep me going but sometimes I feel that it has all outgrown me. It isn't worth the weird looks, maybe. 

 

I can't wait to see you again. I know that this letter will never reach you, but maybe you can already see what I'm writing.

Chapter 40: August 31, 1990

Summary:

Polnareff laments to Avdol his fears of the unknown.

Muhammad,

 

I bet you never knew me like this, but I dream of writing things for you. Letters, yes, but those will never be answered; I dream of writing you sonnets and poetry, maybe stories if I could stay focused long enough to get to the happy ending. When Chérie was a baby, my mother had me read to her all the time. They were all sorts of fairytales and things and I never really paid them much mind. But she really liked Winnie The Pooh books. My Chérie had so many friends so she felt sorry for her, poor thing. It never made sense to me, but now I think I get it. To remember my Chérie all alone at the end when she always surrounded herself with bright girls and goofy boys her age, I get it now. 

Nobody deserves to be alone, not like that.

I know you're out there, somewhere. I know you are still alive in your own way---you exist amongst the blackness of space and the shining stars of a faraway galaxy where I can never travel. You gone and I'm still here, again. When Jotaro moves on and settles down where will I go? When we kill these people for their Arrows will that be it for him and I? There is no team, no Stardust Crusaders. The old man is off in his own ripe retirement and Kakyoin is buried away somewhere I never even learned. I could get a dog but it would remind me of that damned Iggy.

He kind of was a sweet, grouchy, little prick. I can't even bring myself to get a dog for my lonely life.

When we return from Egypt maybe i will write you again. We have arrived in Yemen and will be exploring Qatar afterwards for the last missing Arrow.

Maybe I can write you poetry, then.

~ J.P