Chapter Text
You weave your way through the crowd, suitcase in tow. Scanning the figures that wait near the baggage claim, your eyes land on her. She catches your gaze, perking up as you wave to her. You’re pulled into a tight hug upon reaching her.
“Oh, it’s so wonderful to meet you! I’m Mrs. Holy Kujo.” There’s a comforting enthusiasm in her eyes as she pulls back to take a better look at you. Once she’s had her fill, her smile grows wider and she pulls you in for another hug.
“I guess I don’t need much of an introduction, huh?” You smile at her as she finally lets you go. She merely giggles.
“Jotaro, come say hello to our guest!”
How did you not notice him before? The man’s a behemoth. You watch in what feels like a mix of awe and horror as he casually tosses his cigarette on the ground, stomping on it before sauntering his way over to the two of you.
You crane your neck just to meet his eyes, which are boring a hole through you.
“Hi.” You introduce yourself quickly, tossing a wave his way. Your greeting is met with an unenthusiastic grunt. Okay…
A year abroad in Japan. That was the plan for your senior year of high school. You’d been lucky enough to get matched with the Kujos; a mother who hailed from your homeland of the US, a father who was a famous jazz musician currently on tour, and their son. A high school student, your age. You think. But are you really supposed to believe that this 6’5 walking scowl in front of you is just barely an adult?
Once your bags have been retrieved, the three of you make your way to the car. A 20-minute drive— that’s what Holy told you— and you spend every moment of it fixated on the scenery. People strolling through the streets, flowers blooming on the shrubs that decorate the sidewalks; everything seems so peaceful. You could get used to this.
On the outskirts of the city sits the Kujo residence. And god, it’s huge. A traditional Japanese home, separated into three sections all connected via a wooden walkway. There’s a bridge that leads directly to the center building— underneath it, a pond that you believe is far too big for any residential home. Are those koi fish?
You’ve been caught staring. An annoyed “Tch!” resonates from above you as you’re nudged out of your awe. Jotaro stares, no— glares down at you before walking away towards the house. You purse your lips awkwardly before following him, taking the extra time to observe what you are now sure to be koi fish.
Once your tour is concluded and your room is set up, you decide that what’s left of your day is best spent napping. Mrs. Kujo told you to make yourself comfortable, after all. Futon ready to go, you curl up and embrace the familiar weight that settles on your back.
Unfortunately, your peaceful slumber is quite rudely disrupted by a harsh rapping on the doorway. What’s strange, though, is the abrupt end to the knocking— followed even more unusually by a harsh gasp.
You turn your head his way to let him know you’re awake, surprised when you’re met with an expression that you thought would never befall this man’s face. Shock? Did you do something? Did he… can he see Cat’s Cradle?
Though you’re positive you saw it, he’s quick to neutralize his expression back to the usual glower.
“Dinner’s ready.”
With that, he turns and walks off to what you assume is the kitchen.
Left with your own thoughts, you shrug off the encounter— though you make a promise to yourself to think it over some other time.
Much to your chagrin, that time comes far too soon. Dinner: a lovely feast of salmon on white rice, paired with some green tea and awkwardly punctuated by the unabiding glare of the boy across from you. What is his deal?
Mrs. Kujo seems rather oblivious to it, but you wonder if that’s intentional or not. Either way, you’re stuck desperately trying to pretend that you don’t notice him all but analyzing you. You try to eat as fast as you can in hopes that you can crawl your way out of this situation.
Mission successful, you thank Mrs. Kujo for the meal before excusing yourself. You sigh once you reach your room, deciding to make good on your claim that you were going to unpack.
How weird. First, he wants nothing to do with you, now suddenly you’re the most interesting thing at the dinner table? You had— over the course of dinner— come to the conclusion that he could, in fact, see the thing that was so familiar with obscurity in the eyes of others. But how? You’ve lived your life under the impression that absolutely no one could see your ‘little friend’. Though as you think about it more, you realize that it really only appears when you sleep, which leaves your parents as the only people who had the potential to catch a glimpse of it. Maybe it was possible for others to see it… Though, wouldn’t your parents have said something by now?
Much like earlier, your thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door. “Come in.”
The door slides open to reveal, once again unsurprisingly— but most definitely undesirably— Jotaro Kujo. He’s holding something folded up in his hands, but you can’t quite make out what it is.
“Your school uniform. Catch,” said ever-so-gracefully before he tosses the clothes your way. Thankfully, you manage to catch it, uttering thanks as you unfold it to inspect it.
Fully expecting him to have left, you glance at the door only to find him still there. He’s not looking at you, rather, his gaze is focused on the ground. He looks distant— like he’s thinking about something.
He perks up just a little bit and tilts the brim of his hat down when he catches your stare. Wordlessly, he leaves, sliding the door shut behind him. Anyways…
Soon enough the school year begins, throwing you into a whirlwind of work. At some point, you had managed to scrounge up the courage to ask for Jotaro’s help with translating. Which led to the two of you taking your homework to the dinner table to work on together.
And though you tended to stay away from him at school (if he was even at school), you had grown much more comfortable with him at home. During those extended periods of silent study time, the occasional small talk could be heard. And every now and again these would give way to much lengthier conversations. A rare occurrence— but an occurrence, nonetheless.
Today finds itself to be a little bit quieter than usual, though. Your typical afterschool meetup spot was left barren. Jotaro was nowhere to be found— an exceptionally odd phenomenon when he was at school. And you had definitely walked to school with him this morning.
It stings a little, truthfully.
But all of that goes out the door the moment you step foot in the Kujo household. Mrs. Kujo is hunched over the counter— looking paler than usual and noticeably distressed. You can hear some sort of noise, which you soon realize is the other end of the call on the phone she’s got a loose grip on.
You slip your shoes off and toss your bag on the ground before you rush over to her.
“Mrs. Kujo, what happened?”
She looks at you, surprised like she just now realized your presence. “Jotaro’s in jail,” she says, looking pained as she does so.
If you were being honest with yourself, you were surprised that it had taken this long. You’d been aware of his propensity to get into fights, and his reputation as ‘local delinquent’ was nothing to scoff at.
But now is not the time. So you comfort her as best you can, promising to accompany her. You excuse yourself, changing out of your uniform into something more comfortable before returning to her.
You stand by while Mrs. Kujo talks to the officers in charge. Understanding the bulk of their conversation leaves you with the knowledge that Jotaro had, in fact, gotten into a fight. A nasty one at that— his victory meant four new patients at the local hospital.
You follow behind them as they lead the way to Jotaro’s cell. When you get closer, Mrs. Kujo breaks into a jog, calling out her boy’s name along the way. You hear the unmistakable yell of Jotaro who is undoubtedly telling her to shut up.
The rest of you reach the cell wherein lies Jotaro, seemingly unbothered and unwilling to move. “How long until he’s released?”
“Stay out of this, bitch.”
You scoff, though you’re not too taken aback by the remark. “Well ‘scuse me, asshole.”
It’s his turn to scoff now, and he buries his face in the crook of his arm as he does so. He looks like he’s trying to take a nap.
His mother turns to you, “They’re releasing him now, but he refuses to come out.” Her face is riddled with worry and you can’t help but feel bad.
“Weirdo.” Your offhand comment seems to strike a chord with him as he moves to sit up. He’s glaring at you, but it’s much more intense than the previous ones.
“You wanna know what’s weird? This evil spirit I’ve got possessing me.” Evil spirit? What is he talking about?
You and Holy share a confused glance, as do the officers next to you. “Listen. You guys can leave. I’ll be staying here ‘til this thing goes away.” He pulls the brim of his hat down. “During that fight, it took all I had just to stop it. So do everyone a favor and just leave me in this cage.” With that, he lies back down.
One of the officers says something that you don’t quite catch, but all of that becomes null when a group of inmates comes rushing to the bars. They’re all shouting, begging to change cells. The four of you share a startled look before the officer bats them away.
Jotaro’s tendency to interrupt shines through, cutting off the inmates’ groveling. You hear a sound— like something’s been punctured— and the scene that unfolds when the attention’s brought back to him is ridiculous.
There sits Jotaro, shotgunning a beer before letting out a burp and tossing the can aside. You want to laugh it’s so absurd, until you catch sight of a transparent, purple arm picking up and handing him this week’s Shonen Jump.
What the hell was that? Could he have something like Cat’s Cradle? Is that why he could see it? Was that even possible? Why didn’t he say something?
You’re so preoccupied with your questions that you don’t even notice he’s gotten up and is now heading toward your group.
“...I’ll show you how evil this spirit is anyway. Maybe then you’ll see why letting me outta here is a bad idea.” He reaches his hand out, and you see that purple arm spring forth again, aiming for one of the officer’s pistols.
He manages to snag it because soon enough it sits in his hand. You back up alongside Holy, heart pounding.
He cocks the pistol, bringing it up to his head which, you notice, is devoid of his hat.
His mother, rightfully frantic, looks like she’s going to pass out. “No! Jotaro!”
Really, the last thing you want is to watch him splatter his brains along the cell wall. But something in you— call it morbid curiosity— forces you to keep your eyes on him as you wait with bated breath.
The shot rings out but there’s no carnage. Just Jotaro, gasping, with a bullet pinched between two purple fingers next to his head.
“It’s like there’s someone behind me.” He lowers his arm and flips the pistol before handing it back to the officer, who takes it with a trembling hand. “It bound itself to me not long ago.”
You place a hand on Mrs. Kujo’s shoulder. She’s still trembling. God, this poor woman. “Maybe we should leave for now,” you suggest. She gulps before nodding and you throw one more glance Jotaro’s way. He’s still by the bars, watching you. “We’ll uh… be back.”
He grunts. “Don’t bother,” he says, returning to his bed. His comment goes ignored as you make your way back to the front office.
Holy apologizes to the officers, reassuring them that she’ll be back to get him out. They nod and soon the two of you are back in the car.
“So… What’s the plan then?”
“I have to give Jotaro’s grandfather a call.” She looks so hopeful when she turns to you. “He’ll be out in no time!”
The next day’s walk to school is… lonely, to say the least. The one thing that remained consistent during your time here was the shared walks to school. They always earned you harsh glares from Jotaro’s little fan club, but they were fun regardless.
Your loneliness, however, is remedied by the full house that you walk into.
Around the table sits two equally huge men, as well as Jotaro. They’re discussing something, or at least, the newcomers are. Jotaro, on the other hand, is preoccupied with one of his books. It’s Holy who turns the attention to you when she realizes your arrival. She waves at you from her place behind the counter.
“Welcome home!” She takes it upon herself to introduce you. “She’s the foreign exchange student who’s staying with us!”
“Why, it’s very nice to meet you! I’m Joseph Joestar, Holy’s father.” He’s a handsome old man, you’ll give him that.
The man beside him talks next, “I’m Muhammad Avdol, a friend of Mr. Joestar’s.”
You smile at both of them, which is returned warmly.
“She’s got one too,” says Jotaro, still nose-deep in his book. Those warm smiles turn into looks of shock.
“Oh my god!” Mr. Joestar dramatically claps his hands on his cheeks.
“Is this true? Do you have a stand?” Avdol asks.
You hope your expression can convey your confusion better than the weak “Huh?” you let out.
“Seen it myself.” Jotaro puts down the book, then glances at you over his shoulder. “When you’re sleeping. That thing on your back.”
Oh.
You just want to confirm what you’re thinking. “Cat’s Cradle?”
Jotaro, looking awfully amused in his own special way, lets out an airy laugh. “You named it?”
You grin before throwing your head back and rolling your eyes, “Oh, God forbid I get a little creative!” Your dramatics earn you another amused huff.
“Why don’t you come and join us? We can discuss it more,” says Mr. Joestar, leaning back in his chair. Avdol hums in agreement.
You slip off your shoes. Holy offers you some tea, which you accept before she heads off to do something else, leaving the four of you alone. You take a sip as you sit down next to Jotaro.
Mr. Joestar initiates the conversation. “So, tell us about Cat’s Cradle.”
“As far as I know it just lets me lucid dream.” Though it’s not like you tried to see if it could do anything else.
“May we see it?” Avdol leans in, propping his head up with his hands. Could you even summon it outside of sleep?
Just the thought of it was enough to answer your question. Startled, you yelp as your surroundings shift. “Holy shit.”
“Fascinating. I’ve never seen one that’s worn by its user.” You look in Avdol’s direction, seeing nothing but a silhouette.
Mr. Joestar pipes up this time, “What are you seeing right now?” His silhouette appears suddenly, joining Avdol’s.
“The landscape’s different. It’s… blank. And I can see you guys, but you’re just silhouettes.” You put your stand away, blinking when the scenery shifts back to the dining room.
Old man Joestar has his hand on his chin. He thinks for a minute before speaking. “A lucid dream, eh?” You nod and make a mental note to try summoning it later.
It’s your turn to ask questions. You look at Jotaro, “If you could see it this whole time, why didn’t you say anything?”
He glances at you from under his hat. “Dunno. Didn’t seem to be hurting you, so I left it alone.” Makes sense, you suppose.
Avdol interrupts, saying your name. “Can I ask how long you’ve had Cat’s Cradle?”
You press your tongue into your canine tooth as you think. “I started being able to lucid dream at age…” You scrunch your nose up, “10? 11, maybe? But I didn’t notice Cat’s Cradle until, like, months after.”
Both men nod before Avdol speaks up once again. “I wonder what caused it to appear so suddenly.”
Mr. Joestar slams his palms on the table, standing up abruptly and startling at least you and Avdol. “Well, I think that’s enough about stands for today. How about we go and get something to eat?” He flashes a toothy grin at you, which you happily reciprocate.
Dinner allows you more insight into the two visitors. Mr. Joestar fills you in on their family history, and Avdol reminisces on his life as well. Jotaro spends the meal in silence. His face— though still stuck in its ever-present glower— is softer, somehow. Maybe it’s the sudden appearance of his grandfather, whom he hadn’t seen in a long time from what you’d gathered.
The meal ends and your little gaggle returns back to the Kujo residence. Holy retires early, looking more fatigued than you’ve ever seen. The abrupt influx of visitors was to blame, you suppose.
The rest of the night is devoted to yet another study session with Jotaro at your side. Mr. Joestar and Avdol have both gone to their respective rooms, most assuredly worn out from their flight.
Their departure leaves just you and Jotaro. You’ve just finished your last bit of work, and he’s spent the better half of the hour reading. His brow is furrowed, yet his gaze is not nearly as harsh as usual. You’ve never seen him this calm, you realize, and your mouth quirks up slightly.
“Jotaro, what does your stand look like?”
Attention successfully garnered, he glances up at you before a purple figure emerges from his own. It hovers before you in all its glory— black hair flowing in a nonexistent breeze, it’s as though it was sculpted by the artists responsible for those ancient Greek statues, what with the defined muscles that protrude from its stomach and arms. It bares the same aquamarine eyes as its’ user, who is still preoccupied with his book.
“Wow.”
He’s lowered his book and is now looking at you— watching you inspect his stand. Your face reads of awe— jaw parted slightly, and eyes alight with some childlike wonder. It amuses him, your palpable fascination.
“You gonna name it?” Your head now rests in the cradle formed by your intertwined fingers. You and his stand are having some sort of staring contest, both parties fascinated by the other.
His gaze has returned to his book. “If I do, it’s not gonna be something stupid like Cat’s Cradle.” The entire time he speaks his mouth is upturned in a smirk. You scoff, yet you can’t help the smile that graces you. Your dynamic has slowly settled into the playful one it is now, for which you are oh-so grateful.
Oh, how far you’ve come.