Archive of Our Own

The cool early spring air left goosebumps along Jotaro’s arms when he stepped off the train with his suitcase trailing behind him. At this late hour, with the sunset a hazy overcast of soft violets and pinks, not many other people lingered at the station save for a few bedraggled businessmen hustling down the platform to the bus terminals outside. Once the train departed, there was nothing but the faint whistling of the wind along the tracks and a silence that echoed in the depths of Jotaro’s head. 

Next to him, Noriaki interlocked his fingers and stretched his arms above his head with a content sigh. His back popped and cracked into place while his shoulders trembled with the welcome exertion until he finally settled back down and pulled his own suitcase next to him. 

“Well,” he said. “Let’s get going.” 

It was a familiar walk. Neither of them spoke as they huddled together on the narrow sidewalk, jetlag wearing down their pace to a sluggish lumber. The streets quieted down the further they went, the polished architecture of department stores and cafes dimming into the older, weather-worn neighborhood of houses packed together down winding blocks. A few cars passed them by, headlights washing over their backs and sliding off down the road, but once they turned down the intersection, the only sound that greeted them was the click of their shoes and the clattering of their suitcases wheeling along behind them. 

The sun sank down past the horizon by the time they made it, the warm orange glow emanating from the gates a guiding beacon against a heavy night sky that Jotaro found himself drawn to like a moth to a flame. As soon as he crossed the gate, the front door cracked open. 

Jotaro just barely managed to let go of his suitcase in time to catch his mother when she came speeding down to greet him, her arms wrapping tight around his abdomen and squeezing hard enough to make him loose his breath. He distantly heard Noriaki calling out his own greetings behind him, but in his exhaustion, he only just managed to catch the warm smile on Holly’s face as she beamed up at him with nothing but open affection. 

“It really has been so long since I’ve seen you,” she said. “Welcome home, honey.” 

Dinner was a small, but lively affair. There were dishes upon dishes upon dishes laid out on the dining room table, so many that there was barely any room for the three of them to maneuver around their respective servings. That didn’t stop Holly from bustling around the table and fretting over their plates though.

 “This is delicious,” Noriaki said, covering his mouth through a bite of crispy tonkatsu. “Thank you so much, Holly. You really didn’t have to make all of this.” 

“Oh, this is nothing!” she chirped. “Besides, I bet it’s nice to have a warm meal after going through airplane food.” 

Noriaki, hair mussed and glasses askew, sent her the most grateful look Jotaro’s ever seen. “You have no idea.” 

Holly laughed, and some of the tension that lined Jotaro’s body seeped out at the sound, but the exhaustion that had burrowed itself into his bones still remained. 

“Jotaro, are you alright?” Holly asked. “You look like you’re about to pass out in your plate.” 

Jotaro blinked. His plate was all but untouched, spare a few mouthfuls of rice and a bit of miso soup. 

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Just tired. Think I might turn in early.” 

“I can help with the luggage,” Noriaki said. He made to stand up, but Jotaro shook his head before he could. 

“I got it,” he said. “Thanks for the food, mom.” 

“Of course,” Holly cooed. She glanced at his plate with pursed lips, but her eyes were still light when she smiled at him. “I’ll put the leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry later. You just come down and fix yourself a plate whenever you want.” 

He obediently stopped and leaned over to let her kiss him on the cheek before he passed her at the table, offering a half-hearted wave as he lumbered back down the entryway. The sounds of cutlery clinking and faint laughter made the house feel warm as he hefted his and Noriaki’s suitcases down the hall and out onto the genkan. It was muscle memory, walking down and turning to open the first shoji door on his left, albeit a memory he hadn’t practiced in years. 

The room was tidy, an extra-large futon already set out over the tatami mats and the dressers free of any dust or clutter. All of the old textbooks and magazines he used to keep on the desk had been neatly tucked away into the closet. Holly must have come in and cleaned it before they landed. All of it was strikingly familiar, but it still felt uncanny to be in his old childhood bedroom again. 

He set the suitcases down on their sides, pushing them against the far corner of the room. Jotaro knew he should shower, or change at the very least, but he barely had the energy to keep himself standing. 

Clumsily, he knelt down and crawled into the futon, draping the blankets over his shoulders. Rather than sleep, he fell in and out of consciousness like an oncoming wave, his body heavy as he sunk into the sheets and drifted. He had no idea if minutes or hours had passed when he heard the door slide open again. 

Jotaro didn’t bother to turn around while Noriaki shuffled around the room, unzipping his suitcase and ruffling through his clothes before he lifted the corner of the futon up and slipped inside. 

“Jotaro?” he whispered. “Are you awake?” 

“Mhm.” 

Jotaro twisted under the sheets to face Noriaki, his eyes bright in the dark. Noriaki smiled at that, one hand resting under his cheek while the other reached out to loop around Jotaro’s waist. 

“It’s good to be back,” he said, quiet enough for Jotaro and Jotaro alone to hear. “I didn’t realize how much I missed seeing your mother until now.” 

“Yeah,” Jotaro mumbled. “ Me too.” 

Noriaki’s thumb rubbed gentle circles into the divot of his hip, lulling him down with a slow, steady rhythm. 

“I’m really glad we did this,” he murmured. “I think it’ll be good for you, spending some time back home.”

Jotaro nodded. He could barely keep his eyes open. “Mhm.”  

Noriaki’s face softened. He settled in close and pressed a firm kiss to Jotaro’s forehead, his bangs brushing against Jotaro’s cheek. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you up,” he said. “I’m just getting excited over nothing. Get some rest. We can take it slow tomorrow.” 

Jotaro thought vaguely that he’d be doing nothing but taking it slow for the next three weeks. He didn’t have the energy to argue the point though. Instead, he closed his eyes and let himself sleep. 

Finally, he was home. He just didn’t know if he wanted to be. 

As much as Jotaro wished he could take the credit for it, visiting Holly was Noriaki’s idea. 

Once he’d emailed his resignation letter, Jotaro had faltered over what to do next. Without a job tying him down, he could have done whatever he liked, but he ended up stumbling over the weight of his own indecision. He spent two weeks lying in bed, blind to the passage of time around him until Noriaki finally coaxed him out with a proposal. 

It wasn’t like they had anything else they needed to do, he’d said, so why not go home for a bit?

Noriaki was the one who booked the plane tickets and called his mother. Up until the moment he’d set foot in the airport, Jotaro was all but herded along in something of a fugue state, neither awake nor asleep. He existed in a strange state of being, not quite sure where he fit in with the changing world around him. 

When he shuffled into the kitchen the next morning, Holly was already up, peering in the refrigerator and scribbling down a hasty shopping list onto a sticky note. As soon as he stepped inside, she shot up with a beaming smile. 

“Oh, good morning honey!” she called out. “You look like you had a good night’s sleep.” 

“I did.” Jotaro decided not to mention the fact that he’d been sleeping almost eleven hours every day for the past month now. “Sorry about last night. Think the jet lag got to me for once.” 

Holly waved him off before he could say another word. “I’m just glad you got some rest. That’s what a vacation is for! You can sleep in all you want now. Besides, you and Noriaki both left the Foundation, didn’t you?” 

Jotaro hesitated. He wasn’t sure why. “Yeah, we did.” 

“Then you have even more time to relax,” she said firmly. “My goodness, I feel like you both got so old while I wasn’t looking. The next time I see you, you’ll be retired like me!” 

A pang of guilt struck within Jotaro’s chest. “Don’t jinx it,” he ended up saying. It was the best he could do when he was still shaking off his sleep-haze. 

Holly laughed, the dimples on her cheeks crinkling with delight. 

“Whatever you say,” she said. “Do you have any plans for today? It doesn’t look like it’s going to be too cold out.” 

Jotaro shrugged. “Think Noriaki wanted to go take a walk. Did you want us to pick up something on the way back?” 

“Oh no, don’t worry about me.” Holly waved her sticky note in the air. “I need to go grocery shopping anyways. Gotta make sure I stock up for the two of you.” 

“I can go with you,” he said quietly. He blinked, surprised by his own offer. He barely had the energy to make it to the store when he was still in Florida. He wasn’t sure where this spark had come from. 

Holly paused, but she soon beamed at him with unbridled joy. “If you want to, you’re more than welcome.” 

Noriaki stumbled into the kitchen not a second later, stifling a yawn into his fist and squinting blearily at Jotaro, then Holly. It took him a minute to realize that they were, in fact, both in the room, before he suddenly jolted awake. 

“Morning,” he said. “Ah, I didn’t mean to make you all wait.” 

“Jotaro and I were just catching up,” Holly said. “Don’t worry, you didn’t miss anything. I heard that the two of you were going to head out soon though.” 

Noriaki glanced over at Jotaro with a questioning look on his face. Jotaro nodded in return. 

“Yes, we’ll be out of your way in a bit,” Noriaki said. “Just let me shower, and then we can go.” 

Between the two of them, getting ready took almost no time at all. Noriaki was nothing if not efficient, and Jotaro scraped by with the bare minimum on a good day anyways. They were out the door in no time, dressed and walking down the block with no real destination in mind. It wasn’t like they needed one. Jotaro knew this neighborhood backwards and forwards. 

“I forgot how quiet it was around here.” Noriaki glanced down the street. “I’m still used to hearing car engines in my sleep.” 

“Mm.” In the early morning lull, with nobody on the street and no cars on the road, the silence was almost eerie now. 

Noriaki tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat, keeping pace with Jotaro’s sluggish walk. “How are you holding up?” 

Jotaro knew what he was asking about. He also knew what answer Noriaki was hoping to hear. 

“M’alright,” he finally said. “It’s good to be back.” 

The corner of Noriaki’s eyes tightened, and Jotaro knew he was caught. 

“If you’re still not feeling well, that’s alright,’ Noriaki reminded him. “I mean, that’s why we came here. It’ll be nice to take things slow for once.” 

The cafe down the block was closed, but Jotaro still remembered what the interior looked like. He used to stop by after school every other day when he bothered to go to school at all. 

He wasn’t in school anymore. The cafe was still there. 

“You’re right,” Jotaro said. “Don’t think I’m used to that.” 

Noriaki smiled. “I don’t think I am either. It’ll be good for us to get the practice in. How about we get some coffee? I think the convenience store by the hotel is open.” 

Coffee, Jotaro could do. “Sure.” 

They crossed the street and turned, the opposite direction from the cafe. Nothing had changed since he’d been gone, but Jotaro had. 

He wished it was for the better. He wished the cafe was open. He wouldn’t have gone in if it was. 

“How does okonomiyaki sound?” Holly asked, eyeing the sale price on the cabbages across the store. 

Jotaro shrugged. “Whatever works.” 

His appetite still hadn’t quite come around yet. Without anything like hunger pangs to cue his body into craving food, Jotaro’s meals tended to be limited to whatever happened to be in the cabinets if he had the energy to make it to the kitchen. Holly didn’t seem deterred by his answer though, beelining her way to the vegetable display while Jotaro dutifully trailed after her with the shopping cart. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone grocery shopping with his mother. He had vague memories of hanging off the cart and wandering off towards the candy aisle by himself when he was a kid, but those were nothing more than hazy images that he couldn’t quite grasp. The only thing he remembered for certain was how large everything felt, the endless linoleum floors and towering shelves of product that his mother seemed to snag with ease. 

Now, the shopping cart barely came up to his hips. He still refused to let Holly push it. 

Slowly, the top basket started to fill up. Cabbage, eggs, pork belly and two packs of yakisoba noodles were neatly arranged inside. Jotaro took care to make sure that the eggs weren’t cracked, or that the cabbage wouldn’t roll and crush the dry noodles. He wouldn’t have given it a second thought if he were buying groceries for himself, but these were the ingredients that his mother would be using to cook him a meal. The least that Jotaro could do was make sure that they weren’t ruined before they left the store. 

It was a slowgoing process, but as Holly mulled over the price of fresh grapes, Jotaro heard the clattering of another cart coming up from behind him. 

“Holly, is that you?” 

Jotaro peered over his shoulder to see a woman about half his size hurrying up to them, graying hair pulled back in a ponytail and a broad smile on her face. Instinctively, he tensed up, but Holly let out a delighted gasp and rushed forward to greet her. 

“Mei, it’s so good to see you! I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” Holly said. “How are you doing? Is your husband still working at that publishing company?” 

Mei let out a playful groan, waving Holly off with a roll of her eyes. “Oh, don’t remind me about that. I’ve been telling him to either ask for a raise or quit for ages now, and he still insists on sticking it out. Ugh! I’ve just about had it up to here with him.” 

Jotaro froze when Mei’s eyes landed on him, perusing him up and down with the open curiosity that only a gossiping housewife could achieve. 

“And who is this?” she asked. 

Jotaro’s tongue went dry. Luckily, Holly jumped in to cover his lapse with an eager smile and a pat to his chest. 

“Oh, this is my son, Jotaro!” she cooed. “He came from America to visit for a few weeks!” 

It wasn’t the complete story, and Jotaro felt dread bore holes into his stomach when Mei gasped and stared up at him with stars in her eyes. 

“You’re Jotaro?” she asked. “I’ve heard so much about you! My goodness, you grew up to be tall! And aren’t you just a sweetheart, helping your mother with the groceries. Holly, you must be blessed to have such a nice son like him.” 

Inexplicably, Jotaro felt pinned to the floor. Now, he felt too big standing behind the shopping cart, a beast lumbering after his mother. He wanted to shrink down, to curl up and hide behind his mother’s skirt again. But here he was, an adult on display, play-acting at being a good son. 

“I really am,” Holly said fondly. “Oh, but don’t let me keep you though. You still have my number, right? How about we get together for tea soon?” 

“That sounds wonderful,” Mei replied. She leaned over her cart to pat Jotaro’s forearm, the veins on her hands pale and spiderlike, creeping up the sleeve of her blouse. “And you’re more than welcome to tag along, if you want to hang around a couple of old women like us. It was lovely meeting you, Jotaro. You two have a good day now.” 

Holly waved as Mei strolled off towards the seafood, though Jotaro couldn’t do the same. A bitter taste had settled in his mouth, clinging like a thin film to his tongue no matter how much he tried to swallow it down. 

“I didn’t think I’d run into her here,” Holly mused. “But she’s getting along pretty well. If you want to take her up on that offer, just let me know. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to have you over.” 

The lights felt too bright now, the tinny sound of the store’s jingle from the overhead speakers too loud. 

“Maybe,” he finally said, as non-committal as the rest of his answers had been. It was as close as he could get to saying no. 

Though he tried to hide it, Holly must have sensed the change in mood around him. She didn’t push the matter any further, only offering him a knowing smile that didn’t quite cover the worried look in her eyes. 

“Alright,” she said easily. “How about we go look at the deli section? Let’s see if there’s anything that catches your eye.” 

There wasn’t. But Jotaro still followed after his mother, pushing the shopping cart along. 

Together, they wandered through the frozen foods and the pre-made bentos, looping around the store until Holly came to an abrupt stop. 

“Oh,” she said. “Look!” 

She reached out and plucked a mango custard bun off of the shelf, scanning over the small bakery section with sheer delight. 

“Do you remember these?” she asked him. “There used to be one that was half-chocolate, half-mango. You had one every time you came shopping with me. Here, let me see if I can find it.” 

“It’s alright.” Jotaro’s voice was quiet, but he knew that Holly was still listening. “They probably discontinued it. It’s been a while since I saw those.” 

“It can’t hurt to look!” Holly chided him. “Just give me a minute. I bet they just rearranged the shelves.” 

Holly kept searching, and Jotaro felt shame burn hot down his throat. He did remember those buns, a soft milk bread filled with creamy custard that always seemed to end up smeared all over his fingers if he squeezed too hard. He used to take equal bites from the top and the bottom, carefully evening out the layer of mango and chocolate filling to make sure that neither would run out too soon. 

Holly got that as a reward for being so helpful. For being a good son. 

Jotaro didn’t know if he could still be called a good son now. 

He watched in silence as Holly reached towards the back of the bottom shelf and crowed in triumph as she placed two mango-chocolate custard buns in the cart. 

“I knew they had them somewhere!” she said. “Here, see, you can have one for dessert, and one for breakfast tomorrow. I’ll come by again later to pick up some more.” 

Jotaro wanted to protest, or at least slip them back onto the shelf, but Holly looked so happy that he couldn’t bring himself to do it. They ended up on the conveyer belt when they finally made it to the checkout line, and then on the kitchen counter once they got home. 

Jotaro didn’t touch them. They weren’t his to eat anymore. 

Jotaro was washing the dishes when the phone rang. He paused, halfway through handing a plate over to Noriaki, who stood by his side ready with the drying rag. 

“I’ll get it,” he said, wiping his hands off on his pants much to Noraiki’s disdain. “Give me a minute.” 

“You could at least use a towel first!” Noriaki called out after him. “It’s right there!” 

Jotaro walked off before he could say anything else, turning around the corner to pick up the landline in the living room. 

“Kujo speaking.” 

“Oh, it’s you. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for ages now! Where the hell have you been?” 

Jotaro froze. He stood still with the phone held up to his ear, Joseph’s voice booming through the crackling speaker. 

“Do you know how many calls I’ve gotten asking where you’ve gone off to? Those poor folks over at the Foundation have been trying to reach you for weeks,” Joseph said. “My god, Jotaro, I thought you were dead!” 

Jotaro flinched. His fingers gripped the phone tight enough to ache, a band wrapping itself taut around his lungs and cutting his sharp inhale short. 

There was no way he knew. Holly wouldn’t have told him without asking Jotaro first. 

“I’m fine,” he said slowly. He had to force himself to keep an even tone, eyes fixed on the couch below him. “I’m visiting Mom for a bit. They shouldn’t be calling about me though.” 

“What?” Joseph shot back. “Why not?” 

Jotaro forced himself to take another deep breath. “Because I quit.” 

Silence lingered over the line. Then, Joseph’s voice erupted out of the speaker.

“What?” 

Jotaro opened his mouth to explain, but his grandfather was barreling on before he could get a single word out. 

“What do you mean you quit? Did you get hurt?” 

“No,” Jotaro replied sharply. Not quite a lie, but not quite the truth. “I just quit.” 

Joseph sputtered over the other end of the line, and Jotaro felt dread wash over his spine. 

“So what, are you going to be a consultant now?” he asked. 

“No,” Jotaro repeated. “I’m not going to be anything for them. I’m done.” 

“You’re—” Joseph faltered, and then seemed to pick up steam stronger than ever. “Why? Jotaro, what on earth were you thinking? You had a career going for you! You could’ve retired by fifty!” 

Jotaro tried to take another deep breath. It didn’t work. “I don’t need the money. I just wanted to do something different. That’s all.” 

“Like what?” Joseph said, a clear challenge in his tone. 

Jotaro didn’t answer. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so confident anymore. 

“I’m figuring it out.” 

Joseph let out a world-weary groan, disappointment radiating through the phone clear enough to make Jotaro curl in on himself. 

“Jotaro,” Joseph moaned. “You can’t be serious.” 

Jotaro’s mouth went dry. He didn’t want to keep talking anymore, and it seemed like Joseph was more than happy to fill in the blanks for him. 

“So you’re quitting, and you don’t even know why?” Joseph said. “What are you going to do now? Do you know how many people can do your job? Because let me tell you right now, it’s not a whole lot.” 

Jotaro knew this. He knew it very well. He thought of what Noriaki had told him when he had torn himself apart for hours before he emailed his resignation letter. 

“They’re big enough to find someone else,” he parroted, like a puppet mouthing along to words it couldn’t believe itself. “They don’t need me.” 

“Of course they do! Can you use your head for two seconds and just think about it for a moment?” 

Somewhere deep within his stomach, Jotaro felt the first flickering embers of irritation spark to life. 

“What does it matter to you?” he said. “You’re retired. It’s not like they’re going to ask you to cover for me.” 

“Because I already did my part!” 

Jotaro went quiet. 

“Jotaro, not everyone in the world has the kind of power that you do. And there’s a whole lot of people out there need the help that you can give them.” Jotaro felt small, smaller with every word, but Joseph kept pushing on. “You know, the reason why I had the chance to give back at all was because my uncle was so damn committed to keeping my family alive. He gave everything for us, all this money, all this research. We wouldn’t have any of this if it weren’t for him. Hell, without him, we wouldn’t be here, having this conversation! He gave us the Foundation so we can put this power to use , and you’re throwing away everything he worked for for nothing!” 

Jotaro felt like he could sink into the carpet, weave himself down into the threads and hide away in the thin fibers forever. He didn’t want to be angry anymore. He wanted to be small. 

Suddenly, the phone was snatched out of his hand. His body was slow to respond, his head turning a few seconds too late to see what had happened. 

When he looked down, he saw his mother holding onto the phone, her calloused palm covering the speaker with her lips pulled back and brow furrowed together with thinly veiled rage. 

“Don’t worry about him,” she said, her voice strangely neutral. “I think Noriaki put the kettle on for some tea in the kitchen. You go ahead and make yourself a nice cup with him. I’ll take care of this.” 

Jotaro couldn’t move. It took a gentle push to his back from Holly to get him to realign with his body again. Without a word, he turned around and walked out into the hallway, one slow step at a time. 

Once he turned the corner, he heard the echo of Holly’s furious voice spilling out of the living room. 

“Papa, I don’t want to hear it. I—No, I won’t be passing the phone back. You can think whatever you want about your Foundation, but don’t you dare talk to him like that—” 

Jotaro kept walking down the hall and past the kitchen, far enough until he couldn’t hear Holly anymore. His hands might have still been damp with dishwater or with sweat. He couldn’t quite tell anymore. 

SIlently, he crept into his bedroom and crawled into the unmade futon. Lying on his side, staring at the wall, Jotaro made himself small and thought of emptiness. 

It couldn’t last forever. And Jotaro was an idiot for thinking that it could. 

He tucked his head between his knees, legs hanging loosely over the edge of the genkan and heaving for air that he couldn’t find. It was dark out, and Jotaro felt the unforgiving chill of the late night hour biting into his exposed arms and through his thin pajama pants, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. The door to his bedroom remained firmly closed, and faintly, he could make out the sound of Noriaki’s even breathing behind it. 

Noriaki and Holly had both tried to check on him after that call, but Jotaro had turned them away, laying listlessly in bed with the first sparks of something building within him. He had waited until Noriaki crept in next to him, whispering about how he should get some rest and that he was always there if he needed to talk before he fell asleep. Jotaro couldn’t explain the restlessness that overtook him, the electric pulse that jumped through his veins as he forced himself to be still until he could slip outside. 

Jotaro squeezed his eyes shut hard enough to see stars spinning behind his eyelids. In the haphazard privacy of the garden, he brought his shaking hands up to cover his head. 

It was never meant to last. Shopping with his mother, walking with Noriaki, none of it was meant to last. It was a trip to meant cobble the stray pieces of Jotaro’s head together. He was supposed to bounce back strong, waving away a moment of temporary weakness to step back into the world as a functioning member of society. 

Soon, he would have to fly back to America, back into the ramshackle reality that his life had become. Joseph was right. What was he thinking? Jotaro had spent so much time away with the Foundation that he had never built up a rapport with his professors. It would be a miracle to find someone willing to give him a job at the lab, or even to act as a reference that he would need if he wanted to put his degree to work. 

Noriaki had a small community of fellow artists who would be more than willing to help him navigate his teaching credentials, but Jotaro’s doctorate was nothing more than a fancy piece of paper. There would be no career waiting for him. It was laughable to think that it was even possible to try. 

He dug his fingers into his hair and pulled. He gasped for breath, lungs burning with exertion, but it still came short. The Foundation was supposed to be his future, and he had thrown it all away for nothing. 

When this trip ended, there would be nothing left for Jotaro. And Jotaro would have brought it all on himself. 

Jotaro stumbled to his feet before he knew what he was doing. His body had become a raw wire, driven by animal instinct. Before, the thought of death was a safety offered by distance. A nice, clean, logical ending played out in the confines of his mind, like running through a script he had read a thousand times before. 

But now, it pulsed through his veins, squeezing around his heart and burning behind his eyes. Sweat beaded on his forehead, pupils wide as he tore into the kitchen and lunged for one of the knives in the drawers. The plastic handle was cold enough to burn in his hands, his stomach caving in with a reedy inhale as he gripped it hard enough to turn his the thin layer of skin over his knuckles white. 

He wasn’t afraid to die before because it felt so impartial. Constant, like an inevitable conclusion that he would reach in due time. 

But now, death clawed at his shoulders and rang in his ears. Jotaro’s body was ripping at the seams, betraying its own survival instinct like a rabid dog in its dying throes. 

Jotaro had felt exhaustion before, felt life trickle out of him in a slow stream that muted out the world around him, but never like this. Never so strongly. Never with a wild desperation that devoured him from the inside out, threatening to burst out of his skin with every fleeting second that raced by him. 

Through the adrenaline-filled haze that clouded him, Jotaro realized that he was scared. It felt like a monster beyond his power, a fever that would burn him alive with need. 

He didn’t know that despair could be so violent. 

His head snapped to the side when the light flicked on, hunching in on himself as Noriaki stood in the doorway and rubbed at his eyes. 

“Jotaro? Is everything alright? I thought I heard you out here.” 

Frozen, Jotaro could do nothing but watch as Noriaki’s tired eyes trailed down from his face to the knife in his hand. His face went pale, and for a moment, he looked as afraid as Jotaro felt. 

“Jotaro?” he said, his gaze fixed on the gleaming edge of the blade. “What’s going on?” 

Jotaro couldn’t move. If he did, then that knife was going to end up in his stomach. 

He panted and stared back at Noriaki. “I don’t know.” 

Slowly, Noriaki nodded. Hierophant materialized behind him, slender tendrils creeping along the floor in a soft green glow. 

“Okay,” he said, with a strained effort to keep his voice even. “That’s alright. Is it okay if I come a little closer?” 

Jotaro shook his head so hard the room blurred. He didn’t know what was going on, but he wasn’t in control of himself. He refused to let Noriaki get hurt because of him. 

“Stay there,” he gritted out. “Please.” 

Noriaki worried at his lips. Hierophant paused, just barely managing to reach Jotaro’s feet. The air grew thick with tension, cloying enough to make Jotaro feel like he was choking. 

“Alright.” Noriaki stood stock-still in the doorway like a deer in the headlights. “I’ll stay over here. See? I’m not moving.” 

Jotaro nodded along. Noriaki did as he said and stayed in place. He was safe. 

“I’m right here,” Noriaki repeated, for whose benefit, Jotaro didn’t know. “Do you think you can tell me what’s going on?”  

Jotaro’s mouth opened and closed uselessly. His body screamed at him to move, but Jotaro remained still. 

“I don’t know,” he said. “I just—I don’t know.” 

Noriaki nodded like that made any sense. Jotaro knew the method at work. If he was still talking, then he could be reasoned with. 

“Okay,” Noriaki said. “Do you know where you are right now?” 

“Yeah,” Jotaro heaved out. “S’not a flashback.” 

“That’s good,” Noriaki replied, like that was some kind of accomplishment. “It’s just us here. I can keep an eye out for anything else with Hierophant if you want. We just want you to be safe.” 

“I’m not.” The words ripped themselves out of Jotaro’s mouth before he could catch them. “Fuck, I’m not.” 

The penny dropped. Whatever layered meaning that Noriaki was trying to work around was dragged out into the open by Jotaro, flayed and bleeding on the kitchen floor between them. It made Jotaro feel too vulnerable, too open. He needed to move. 

“We can work with that,” Noriaki said. We , like Jotaro wasn’t the one fucking this all up. “Can you put the knife down?” 

Jotaro was too scared to try. Time passed him by in quick flashes, and he wasn’t sure if he would end up doing something in one of those bursts. “No.” 

Noriaki’s lips thinned. 

“Then can you let Hierophant take it for you?” he tried. “You can hold onto him instead.” 

Jotaro didn’t know. He didn’t want to risk it. He felt like he was teetering on the brink of something, losing precious moments of time the longer he stood around and waited. 

The window was closing. He needed to move now, now, now—

Before he could bring his arm up, Hierophant slipped between his fingers, prying them apart and snatching the knife out of his grasp. The clatter of it hitting the sink sounded deafening to Jotaro’s ears, his head spinning as slender tentacles wrapped around his arms and waist and eased him down when his legs buckled. 

In a flash, Noriaki was kneeling down next to him, wrapping his arms tight around his shoulders with a strained wheeze. 

“Fuck,” Noriaki heaved out. All of his forced composure crumbled away, raw fear painted all over his pale face. “Oh fuck, Jotaro, Jotaro—” 

A keening wail ripped at Jotaro’s throat, the faded stripes on Noriaki’s old pajama shirt blurring together as tears tracked down his face. It was pathetic, sitting on the floor and crying like a child, but Jotaro didn’t know what else to do. All of the emotions that had been muted so carefully, both good and bad, came rushing back so quickly that the vertigo left him dizzy. 

Words were beyond him, nothing more than shuddering inhales and warbling exhales that couldn’t convey the enormity of the thoughts fogging his head. He was distantly aware of the stinging grip that Noriaki had on him, tight enough to bruise as he latched onto Jotaro like he would slip from his grasp if he faltered. 

“Jotaro,” Noriaki said, a plea and a prayer. “Jotaro, I—” 

Jotaro’s shoulders shuddered with a sob. He couldn’t bring his arms up to hold Noriaki, and that more than anything else made him burn with shame. He felt so much that he was helpless in the face of everything he had neglected to see. 

He was hungry. He was tired. He was scared. 

And even though Noriaki was here, even though the knife was in the sink, even though the moment had passed, Jotaro still wanted to die. 

He doesn’t get up the next day. 

The body that he called his own doesn’t feel quite tangible, like a string had been severed and left behind only a heaping pile of scraps in its wake. Noriaki held him the entire night, whispering shaky reassurances about how Jotaro should get some rest. Jotaro didn’t know why he bothered with the pretenses. They were both still awake when the sun rose. 

It used to be easy, sleeping away time. The art of drifting away was one that Jotaro had mastered a long time ago, packing away bits and pieces of his consciousness until he was nothing more than a clean, blank slate. Horrifyingly enough though, he couldn’t do it anymore. 

It was easy to forget when it was passive, just a few fleeting thoughts that would never have to be spoken of. Apathy was acceptable so long as nothing came of it. But this was different. 

Jotaro had tried. And if he could do it once, then what was there to stop him from doing it again? He had the rest of his life to get it right. 

He only needed to succeed once. 

His mind tore along restlessly as he laid in the sweat-damp futon, his body aching and his thoughts horrendously active. He didn’t respond when Noriaki asked him if he wanted something to eat, didn’t move when he slipped out of the room and heard him whispering to Holly out on the genkan. 

A few minutes later, the door carefully slid open. Quiet footsteps crept across the old tatami mats, coming to a stop just by his shoulder. Like she did so long ago when Jotaro was sick and holed up in his room, Holly kneeled down by his side and gently combed her fingers through his hair. 

“Hi there, honey,” she said, her voice a soothing murmur. “I heard you had a bit of a scary night.” 

She said it so plainly like Jotaro had woken up from a nightmare and came whimpering to her room in the dead of night. Like whatever had haunted him was nothing more than a bad dream that could be chased away with a cup of warm milk and a tight hug. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t hear you. I really am getting old. Can sleep through just about anything now.” 

Slowly, her fingertips rubbed against his scalp, back and forth. Her hand was warm, and Jotaro hadn’t realized just how cold he was until that moment. 

“M’sorry.” 

The words grated against his throat, hoarse and raspy by the time they reached the stagnant air. He wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for trying or for failing. 

Holly tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear, smoothing it down when it popped back up again. 

“Don’t you worry about that. I’m just glad you’re alright.” That piece of hair never quite stayed down, but Holly kept on trying anyways. “I’m going to go get started on breakfast. I think we could all do with a nice omelette right now. Do you want to have one?” 

Slowly, Jotaro shook his head. He didn’t want to get up. Didn’t want to do much of anything anymore. 

“That’s alright. I’ll put yours in the fridge if you get hungry later.” Holly took a slow breath, and Jotaro heard the watery hitch that slipped between her words. “I love you, honey. You know that, don’t you? I love you so, so much.” 

He felt raw, rubbed down to his skin, too tender to take the kind of open care his mother was trying so hard to give. 

“M’sorry.” 

A single hiccup escaped Holly before she pinched her lips shut. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she said firmly. “Nothing. Okay?” 

Holly brushed out the thin curls on the nape of his neck with a steady hand. 

“You just get some rest now. We’ll figure this out.” 

He wanted to push her out, away from the shadows that clung to the corners of his bedroom. He wanted to stay hidden within them. 

He couldn’t do either. That morning, Jotaro laid in bed with the scant light of the early morning sun streaming in through the open door and listened in silence as his mother cried. 

He doesn’t get up the next day. Or the next. Noriaki shadowed him regardless, trailing behind him to urge him towards the bathroom or to smooth out the edges of the rumpled futon over his arm. 

He doesn’t explain himself, and Jotaro doesn’t ask. Doesn’t have the energy to, really. It felt like a bit of a moot point anyways, when they both already knew the answer. 

The day after that though, Noriaki spoke. 

“I found a therapist in Florida who seems nice.” 

Noriaki paused to let Jotaro respond. He didn’t. 

“Her name is Destiny. Apparently, she used to work for the Foundation as a counselor, and then split off to start her own private practice.” Noriaki cleared his throat, and Jotaro faintly heard the shuffling of papers from behind him. He must have written it all down somewhere. Jotaro wasn’t surprised. “She’s a Stand user too, from what I gather. I never saw her myself before she left, but I heard from a couple of people that she takes her work very seriously. A little bit like you.” 

Jotaro blinked. Looked down at the pillow underneath his cheek. 

“Do you think you’d be interested in seeing her?” 

He opened his mouth, ran his tongue along his teeth and tried to remember how to talk. 

“If you want.” 

Noriaki let out a sharp exhale, and Jotaro knew immediately that he had given the wrong answer. 

“It’s not about what I want. It’s about what you need,” Noriaki said. “If you think she won’t be a good fit for you, then we can try looking for someone else. But I can’t read your mind.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“Doesn’t—” Noriaki’s voice came out tight, like someone had cinched a rope around his throat. “Of course it matters. We talked about this before. If this isn’t working for you, then we have to find something to change. I’m not going to just leave you like this.” 

“You can,” Jotaro replied. “If you want to.” 

Noriaki went dangerously quiet. 

“I can figure it out,” he continued slowly. “Didn’t mean to drag you into all this. M’not gonna keep you here because I can’t take care of myself.” 

Noriaki still didn’t answer him. 

“I’ll work it out. I won’t force you to do it for me. If you want to leave, I won’t blame you. It’s not like any of this is your fault.” 

“You fucking idiot.” 

Jotaro paused. He started to turn around, but Noriaki reached out and yanked him over to face him. Suddenly on his back, Jotaro was forced to confront the heavy bags under Noriaki’s eyes, the jam-packed notebook by his legs that was pushed off to the side as Noriaki bracketed himself above him with a furious stare. 

“Do you think you can just decide that for me?” Noriaki snapped. “Do you think you get to choose whether or not I want to care about you? That’s not up to you.” 

Instinctively, Jotaro got ready to argue, but he fell short when he saw the glossy shine behind Noriaki’s eyes. 

“You might feel like a burden, but guess what? I get to choose whether or not I want to take that on. And I do.” 

Somehow, Jotaro managed to find his voice again. “I’m not going to make you—” 

“You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to, and you know that, Jotaro,” Noriaki interrupted. “I want to help you. If you don’t want me to, if you really think it would be better for you to do this alone, then I’ll go. But if you’re doing this because you don’t want to bother me, then you better keep your mouth shut.” 

“Noriaki, I’m not going to drag you down with me,” Jotaro started. 

“You’re not,” Noriaki said. Jotaro stopped when he heard the way his voice cracked. “You’re not. I just want you to want what’s best for you. I just—Jotaro, I don’t know what to do.” 

Noriaki took a deep breath and looked up. Jotaro just barely made out the hint of tears clinging to his lashline. 

“I love you, and I want to help you, but I don’t know how,” he murmured. “If you want to go home, I’ll go back with you. If you want to stay at the hospital for a few days, I’ll check you in. I can’t—I just can’t keep guessing like this. I can’t keep guessing and waiting and not knowing if it’s not enough until it’s too late. I love you too much to do that to you.” 

Jotaro felt too big. He wanted to clip himself down to something smaller, something that wouldn’t flail and catch everyone around him as collateral damage. He was tired of trying to push himself up and falling further every time. He didn’t want to hurt Noriaki anymore. 

There was a quick solution for that. 

Jotaro kept his lips sealed tight. Refused to let the aftershock travel any further than it already had. 

And that was exactly what Noriaki begged him not to do, wasn’t it? 

“I’m sorry.” Sorry, sorry, sorry. Sorry for living, sorry for dying, sorry for having known Noriaki at all. 

Noriaki shook his head. “No, I didn’t say that to make you feel sorry. I want this to work out, and I want you to work with me.” 

That was what Noriaki wanted. Honesty. 

“I don’t know where to start,” Jotaro said. 

“That’s alright. I really don’t either.” Noriaki paused. “I just want to ask you a few questions for now. Even if you think I wouldn’t want to hear it, could you answer them?” 

Jotaro nodded. It was the least he could do. 

“Good.” Noriaki nodded slowly. “Good. Okay.” He lowered his voice, not much more than a whisper now in the tentative bridge that had been formed between. “Do you think you might try to hurt yourself again?” 

It felt horrifically blunt, and a part of Jotaro cringed away at the question, but Noriaki had long since deserved the right to ask. It was still quiet. There was still a chance. 

“I don’t know.” Jotaro had to explain. That wasn’t enough anymore. “Don’t feel like it now, but I didn’t feel like it before either. Not until I was in the middle of doing it.” 

Noriaki pursed his lips, but didn’t push the matter. 

“Do you want to stay at the hospital for a few days? If you don’t know how safe you are like this, it might help.”  

Jotaro shook his head. “A regular one’s not going to be equipped to handle shit like this. And I’m not going to a Foundation doctor.” 

Noriaki nodded, like that was the answer he was expecting but still loathed to hear. 

“Okay,” Noriaki said. “I won’t lie to you. That scares me. I don’t want to force you into going if you don’t want to, but I don’t think I can keep you safe by myself.” 

Instinctively, that animal part of Jotaro flinched away at the perceived admonition. At the thought that his pain was contagious. But another, smaller part of him mulled over that thought. 

He didn’t want to hurt Noriaki. He didn’t want Noriaki to be hurt because of him. 

“That therapist you were talking about. I’ll call her.” 

Noriaki still seemed worried. “Will that be enough?” 

Jotaro shrugged. “I don’t know. But she might.” 

“Ah.” Noriaki’s lips quirked up in a wobby smile. “That makes sense. Professionals do tend to know what to do.” 

He didn’t sound all that humorous right now, but it was still something. 

“Yeah,” he said. “But I want you to talk to her too.” 

Noriaki blinked. “Me?” 

“You said you don’t know what to do. You shouldn’t have to. It’s not your job,” Jotaro continued. “I don’t think either of us are equipped to handle shit like this.” 

He saw the flicker of hesitation that crossed Noriaki’s face, and for a moment, realized just how Noriaki must have felt when Jotaro was the one closing himself off. 

“Alright,” Noriaki finally said. “I think that might be for the best.” 

Jotaro nodded. Didn’t feel better about it, but he did feel different. 

I’m sorry, he wanted to say. I didn’t mean to. I did mean to. 

“I love you.” 

It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough to fix things, but Noriaki still smiled back at him with that soft look in his eyes that Jotaro thought he had lost. 

“I love you too,” Noriaki whispered. For the first time in a while, Jotaro thought he might have believed it. 

Things slowly settled into a tentative peace. 

It wasn’t normal by any means. Noriaki still ended up following him around most days, and Jotaro wasn’t blind to the fact that the knives in the kitchen cabinet had been inexplicably moved to some other unknown location. But it was still something. 

He sat at the table even if his plate was nearly empty. He went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, even if he didn’t have the energy to take a shower. Quietly, Noriaki and Holly went about their days letting Jotaro linger around them like a welcome ghost. Jotaro wasn’t quite sure where he fit in, now after the entirety of the trip had been turned on its head because of him, but with the distance that they granted him, he was free to try. 

Carefully, Jotaro plucked out a bright red clothespin from the basket and clipped up the sleeve of one of his turtlenecks onto the laundry line. It was still damp from the washing machine, dripping pinpricks of water onto his forearms, but Jotaro didn’t mind. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out?” Holly asked. She tossed a pale green blouse over the line, working with a speed and dexterity that Jotaro didn’t even try to emulate. “It’s such a nice day today. I think that cafe by the station is doing a half-off sale on donuts too, if you wanted some.” 

“M’fine,” Jotaro replied. He pinned the other sleeve up and then smoothed the rest of his turtleneck out. 

Holly nodded, but that troubled look on her face still didn’t ease up. A few minutes of silence passed, the two of them working in tandem before she spoke up again. 

“Are you sure?” she said. “If you’re tired, you can go in and rest. I can finish this up by myself.” 

“It’s fine,” Jotaro replied again. “I like being out here.” 

“Okay, honey. If you say so.” She turned back to her line, shoulders still tense. Then said, “But if you want to take a break, you can head back in. I really don’t—” 

“Mom,” Jotaro said gently. “It’s not your fault.” 

He stopped. Those weren’t the words he meant to say, but it still felt right to say them regardless. 

Holly’s hand froze where she was reaching up to throw an old house shirt over the line, knuckles white over the clothespin clutched between her fingers. With anyone else, Jotaro would have been content to leave the silence as it was, but he couldn’t do that to her. 

He had just tried to kill himself in his mother’s house. She, of all people, deserved to hear an explanation as to why.

“It wasn’t because of you,” he said. “I didn’t mean to stop calling. Wasn’t because I didn’t want to talk to you anymore. I was just tired.” 

Holly stayed silent. 

“I wasn’t thinking straight. I was just tired.” He still was. “I’m sorry, mom.” 

The wind whistled through the sheets on Jotaro’s side, the corners of the still-wet fabric brushing against his shoulder. Birdsong echoed along the empty sky, warbling out the first shaky notes of a new spring. 

“You were always such a quiet child.” 

Jotaro watched as his mother took a long, slow breath. She seemed older now, much older. 

“Even when you were a baby, you never cried,” she said. “I worried myself sick over you. Even if you had a fever, or if you were hungry, I could never tell because you never cried.” 

She ducked her head down and wiped at her eyes. Her voice remained steady though. 

“And after you came back from that trip with Papa, you never complained. I kept getting calls from your teachers about how you were going to be held back if you didn’t come to class, but you never said anything about it. I wondered if maybe you would have been better off dropping out and starting at a community college instead, but then you came up to me and said you found a job.” 

Jotaro remembered that day. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. 

“I was so happy for you. Papa said he was going to look out for you, and Jean-Pierre said he was going to be your partner, and I thought that maybe this was what you needed. The Foundation did wonders for me, and I thought that they could do the same for you,” she said quietly. “But they kept sending you out. Even though you were so young. Even when you looked so tired.” 

The clothespin in her hand trembled. 

“They worked you like a dog and I never said a thing about it.” 

Jotaro was seized by the need to pry that guilt from her fingers. “Mom—”

“They never should have taken you in like that. I shouldn’t have let them take you in like that,” she hiccuped. “Jotaro, I’m so sorry. Your Mama has been such a fool.” 

He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure if there really was anything to say. 

Quietly, Jotaro stepped forward, leaned down, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. The clothespin in her hand fell to the ground as she clung to his neck, pushing herself up to reach him. 

“I just want you to be happy,” she warbled out. “That’s all I ever wanted.” 

“I know,” Jotaro said. “I’m trying.” 

It wasn’t enough, and he knew it. But Holly still held him tight. 

“You can always come back home if you need to,” she said. “Always. Even if you fly back to Florida and decide you want to move back instead, I’ll be right here, alright?” 

Jotaro nodded. He didn’t have the energy to speak. So he stood there, huddled over his mother, and waited for her to quiet down before he straightened up again. Holly’s eyes were red when she wiped at them with the back of her hand, sniffling to herself as she gave him a shaky smile. 

“I think the laundry can wait a few minutes,” she said. “How about we go back inside for some tea?” 

Jotaro paused. Hesitated, then spoke. 

“Sure,” he said slowly. “If you’re hungry though, we can go to that cafe. Get something for Noriaki too.” 

He knew he wouldn’t be able to stomach any of the pastries they had there, but seeing his mother light up like he had given her the world would be well worth the walk. 

“Of course,” she said. “Of course we can do that. Give me one minute to get changed, and we can head out.” 

It wasn’t perfect. Not at all. But his mother looked hopeful enough that he thought that maybe that was alright for now. 

Even if he never knew how to be one before, maybe Jotaro could learn how to be a good son now. 

When Holly peered into the dining room, lips pursed and eyes shadowed with concern, Jotaro already had a feeling that he knew what she was going to say. 

“Jotaro,” she said. “Your grandfather’s on the phone.” 

Noriaki’s snapped around to face him in the blink of an eye, open worry written all over his face. 

“You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to,” Holly continued. “You just say the word and I’ll tell him you’re busy.” 

It was tempting. It really was. He might have taken her offer up before, but now, Jotaro felt strangely steadfast. 

He’d already hit rock bottom. There really wasn’t anywhere to go but sideways, worst comes to worst. 

“I got it,” he said. He stood up, shrugging off Noriaki’s hand on his knee. 

“Are you sure?” Noriaki asked him quietly. “You don’t have to do this now.” 

“It’s fine.” Jotaro stepped past his mother and down the hall. “Just start without me. I’ll be back in a bit.” 

He resolutely started off towards the living room. The momentum was the only thing keeping his body in motion. If he stopped, he’d lose his nerve. 

Without looking down at the receiver itself, Jotaro swiped up the phone. 

“Hello?” 

“Ah, Jotaro.” Joseph cleared his throat. “It’s good to hear your voice again.” 

Jotaro said nothing. The line went dead quiet in a silence filled with tension thick enough to strangle out whatever sound could have slipped through the cracks. 

“Look, I won’t waste your time,” Joseph finally continued. “I wanted to apologize for how our last conversation went.” 

Jotaro shifted to rest the phone more comfortably against his cheek. “Right.” 

“It wasn’t right of me to say all of that to you, and your mother made it clear that it was pretty damn hypocritical too. And she was right, of course.” Joseph let out a long sigh. “If I was in your shoes, I would have told myself to go to hell.” 

“Mm.” 

“It’s just, you know how I get about family. I worry about you and your mother. I really just want the best for you all,” he continued. 

“Yeah,” Jotaro said. “I know.” 

The fact that Jotaro failed to provide the best for his family in turn went unspoken. 

Joseph let out a long sigh, and suddenly, Jotaro was struck by just how old he sounded now. 

“You know, your great-great grandmother and your great-uncle would have both had my head if they knew I was using their legacy like this.” 

Jotaro paused at that. Joseph never hesitated to divulge his side of the family tree, but he always did so with an aura of pride. Like the people in his stories were heroes instead of distant ancestors. Sometimes, he spoke of them so highly that Jotaro forgot that Joseph had actually lived with them. 

But he never sounded like this when he spoke about them. 

“I mean, that’s where I got it from, and I’m damn proud of it. They gave up everything they had to make sure that I could stay alive, and I’ve yet to pay them back for it. If I’m being honest with you, I doubt I ever will in this lifetime,” Joseph said. “But they wanted everything to do with Dio gone so that nobody after them would be forced to deal with it. So that by the time you and Holly came around, you could do whatever you wanted without having to worry about a blood grudge against you. And I got that all mixed up.” 

Jotaro wasn’t sure what to say. He twined the phone cord around his index finger, backwards and forwards. 

“You did your part twice over, Jotaro,” Joseph said firmly. “You did what I couldn’t, and I’ve got no right to sit here and yap about what you ought to be doing. If you wanna quit, you go and quit. Go travel. Bum around. You’ve earned every right to do whatever the hell you want.” 

Back and forth, circling the words in the air like a hungry dog bitten one too many times. They were the words that Jotaro craved to hear, but a part of him shied away from taking them for his own. 

“Thank you,” Jotaro said quietly, tentatively, waiting for that forgiveness to be yanked out of his hands. 

“No,” Joseph retorted. “Thank you . You’ve done more than enough for our family.” 

Jotaro’s eyes started to mist over, but he blinked back those tears before they could fall. Frankly, he’d had enough of crying in the past few days to last him a lifetime. He wasn’t all that keen on starting again now. 

“Don’t let me keep you now. Holly said you were in the middle of dinner. You go have a good meal.” Joseph paused for a long moment. “I know I’ve made you sit around and listen to me talk for long enough, but I want you to know that Uncle Robert would have been damn proud to have had someone like you holding up his name.” 

Jotaro nodded along. He knew Joseph couldn’t see it, but he didn’t trust his voice not to crack if he responded now. 

“Alright, go eat. Get some rest. And tell everyone I said hi.” 

“I will,” Jotaro muttered. “Thank you.” 

Joseph made another vaguely agreeable noise and then hung up the phone. Jotaro wasn’t sure why he was surprised. It wasn’t like the old man had gotten any more patient as the years went by. 

He stood there, listening to the buzz of the dead air of the empty line for a long moment before he carefully put the phone down. He took a minute to make sure his eyes were clear before he left. When he made it back to the dining room, Holly immediately straightened up in her seat. 

“Jiji says hi,” he said, well before she could ask. 

Next to her, Noriaki smiled, the hidden line of tension stringed along his shoulders easing away. 

“Well, I’m glad he’s doing alright,” Holly replied decisively. “He definitely has the energy to keep on talking. Come on now, sit down. The food’s going to get cold.” 

“I said not to wait,” Jotaro muttered. 

Noriaki smiled at him with open affection. “Too bad.” 

Jotaro did as he was told. He settled down at the table and looked down at his plate. A serving of curry rice waited for him, albeit half of what he would have normally eaten when he was younger. He could see hints of potatoes and carrots in the roux, soft enough to fall apart if he tried to scoop one up with his spoon. 

Once he was settled, Noriaki and Holly started on their own plates, talking lightly around him. Even if he had insisted that they eat without him, he knew they wouldn’t have. 

With the sounds of his family around him, Jotaro picked up his spoon and took a bite. 

It tasted good.