cophene - Tumblr blog

cophene · 1 day

Text

iii. neighbour.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

pairing : p. fugo x gn reader summary : after finding a pensive, choleric ghost, a sales clerk must do everything in their power to help him cross over. but that becomes unfairly difficult when it's so easy to forget that he's already dead. notes : 20th century au, multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn’t follow canon plot word count : 2.4k+

⊱ YOU MANAGED TO SLEEP WELL that night, considering. You woke up thinking only of everything you’d have to do at work and maybe getting a new watering can.

Then a wave of dizziness crashed into you, and if you hadn’t been lying down already, you would’ve fallen.

Oh, damn.

The instant the dizziness receded, you flung off your covers and bolted into the living room, not bothering to wash your face or change out of your pajamas first.

You didn’t know what you were expecting. Perhaps for the living room to be turned upside down, or for bones to be hanging from the ceiling. Everything was as you’d left it yesterday. The blanket you’d left out for Fugo had been neatly folded. It looked like he’d been up hours ago, if he’d slept at all.

Had he disappeared? That wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Maybe you’d dreamed all of yesterday up and could go back thinking ghosts were just a figment of imaginations.

No such luck. You found Fugo at the kitchen table, deliberately turning pages of the morning’s newspaper. You could tell it still took some effort, but evidently it was easier than the sandwich last night.

“Good morning,” he said before you could. “Did you sleep well?”

Your throat was dry. You only nodded, crossing to the cupboard to get a glass of water.

“Did you sleep well?” you asked after a long drink.

“I didn’t sleep at all, actually,” Fugo replied. “I suppose ghosts don’t get tired. I took a walk instead.”

“The whole night?”

“It passed by quicker than I expected. There was no one out; it felt like I was the only one in the whole town.” Fugo turned another page of the newspaper. “It’s beautiful at night. Melancholy, though.”

You went into the bathroom, keeping the door open while you washed your face. “Did anything come up? Anything seem familiar?”

“Not really,” Fugo admitted. There was no way he could’ve seen your furrowed brow from the kitchen, but still, he said, “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“Don’t be. It’ll come with time, I’m sure.”

“I did start remembering things about myself. Little things.”

You came back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Like what?”

“I used to stay up very late,” Fugo said faintly. “I liked to read. I didn’t like sweets.”

“Do you want eggs?”

“No, thank you.”

You set a pan on the stove and cracked an egg into it. “I’d say that’s pretty good. Stuff like that could be important later on.”

“But they’re none of the things that matter,” Fugo said. “I don’t know what I can do to get the memories back. I don’t want to waste your time.”

“We'll get you out there today and see if that doesn’t change. Sometimes you have to go through the motions for your brain to cough something up.”

“What if it never does?”

“You’re not very optimistic, are you?”

“Don’t you have work?”

“I’m gonna call in sick. I don’t want to have to leave you alone for a whole day.”

You slid your egg onto a plate and took it over to the table.

“You still haven’t explained very well why all of this is happening. To you, in particular. It seems unfair.” Fugo had stopped reading the newspaper and was looking at you curiously. Your skin prickled. You didn’t appreciate the intense scrutiny.

“Maybe it’s some kind of curse. Everyone in my family meets a ghost and has to help them cross over. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. If it didn’t happen now, it could have happened in my seventies. Your ghost could be a little girl or a war veteran. All that matters is that you help the ghost find peace.”

“And if you don’t?” Fugo persisted.

You avoided his eyes. “That stuff’s not important. We should be focusing on you and getting your memories back. You will cross over and that’s that.” Damn. Your egg was starting to double itself. You shut your eyes briefly, feeling a headache coming on.

A sharp rap at the door made you jump. Fugo’s head snapped toward the sound. Your stomach swooped to your feet as you stood up, immediately bracing yourself for the worst case scenario.

“Go into my bedroom,” you told Fugo in a low voice. “Close the door and don’t come out until I tell you.”

Fugo frowned. “Whoever it is, they won’t be able to see me.”

“You don’t know that. Go. Quickly.”

Fugo didn’t look happy about it, but he did as you asked. You closed your bedroom door firmly behind him before you went to the front door and looked through the peephole. Quickly, you undid the locks and yanked the door open.

“What are you doing?” you hissed. “Banging on my door like that. Do you know how early it is? I could throttle you, fat head.”

“Don’t be sore,” Narancia shot back. “Are you alright? I was up half the night worrying aboutcha.”

“I’m fine. What did you have to worry about?”

Narancia’s purple eyes were wide and seemed liable to pop out of his head. “I was hearing all sortsa stuff through the wall. Banging and rattling. Were you talking to someone? I thought I heard someone that wasn’t you.”

You tried not to react. “The hell you talking about? I wasn’t talking to anyone. It must’ve been the radio.”

“Too clear to be the radio. Do you want me to check the apartment for you? Someone coulda snuck in while you were asleep. You’re lucky they didn’t slit your throat.”

“I’ll slit your throat if you don’t leave,” you said, trying to shut the door. “I’m fine. Goodbye.”

“Hey.” Narancia wedged his shoe into the doorjamb. “You sure you’re alright? You seem shifty. You know, I’ve heard of people who try to convince their friends everything is alright while they have a gun jammed into their back. Are you going to be murdered?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “Please go. I’m going to be late for work.”

Narancia staunchly refused to leave, and you had no choice but to let him inside or risk everyone else on the floor poking their heads out at the bedlam.

Narancia Ghirga was your next-door neighbour. Most days, he was a swell guy to be around, always ready with a smile and a whip-sharp joke. You didn’t know him too well besides what everyone in the building must know. He was a delivery boy for the local grocer, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was doing odd jobs for the old folks around town. They had a soft spot for his rakish grin and dancing eyes.

At some point, Narancia must have gotten into his head that you were lonesome and needed friends. He started making an effort to talk to you besides the perfunctory greetings. Sometimes he’d invite you with him to the jazz club or some party or other. He was always eager to know whether you needed help with anything and if you were doing alright. If you so much as peeped about something, Narancia would magically appear and try to fix it. It was sweet, but sometimes it rubbed you the wrong way. You weren’t an invalid. You were just living by yourself, the same as he was. The same as hundreds of other people must be. You didn’t need Narancia’s charity. You didn’t need this overzealous protection either. If you were being held hostage, Narancia was admittedly the last person you would think to call.

You resisted the urge to stand in front of your bedroom door while Narancia poked his nose around your apartment. Was it possible that he had heard you and Fugo talking last night? The walls were thin, you knew, but Fugo was a ghost.

You settled on standing in the short hallway connecting the kitchen to your bedroom. Narancia was really searching, going so far as to lift up some of your plants. Narancia had been over to your apartment all of two times. You’d have been offended at the invasion of privacy if you weren’t so nervous about Fugo. Was he an undercover cop or something?

“Who’s that?”

Your heart nearly burst from your chest. You tried not to move your lips as you whispered, “I told you to stay in my bedroom!”

“You’re very dull,” Fugo replied without a hint of remorse. “There’s nothing in there to look at.”

You couldn’t turn your head to look at Fugo, but you could feel a faint draft at your back in lieu of his body heat. “He’s my neighbour. He’s convinced I have a murderer in my apartment.”

“You might,” Fugo said, and you scowled instead of laughing. “Does he do this often?”

“Force himself into my apartment? This time makes three.”

“I can tell he means well. He must really like you.”

“Lucky me,” you muttered.

Narancia was stooping to look under your kitchen table. He popped back up all of a sudden, looking sheepish.

“Well, looks like there’s no one here. Sorry for barging in on you, but I could never forgive myself if—who the hell’s that?”

Your blood went cold. A look of fury crossed Narancia’s usually-sunny face. “Who is that? I thought you said you were alone.”

“Can he see me?” Fugo said, confused.

“Of course I can see you, kid! You’re standing right in front of me!”

“Narancia, listen,” you tried to say.

“Oh, you’re real scummy,” Narancia said to Fugo, his voice rising. It didn’t seem to occur to Narancia at all that Fugo wasn’t really there. He was practically shaking; he was so sore. “Sneaking up on us like that. You were probably going to jump us when we weren’t looking, huh? Robbers just keep getting bolder and bolder nowadays. I’m going to smack you in the face and see how you like them apples?!”

Before you could stop him, Narancia threw himself at Fugo. Fugo didn’t dodge in time but he needn’t have bothered. Narancia sailed right through him, sprawling in an undignified heap behind Fugo’s legs. You hurried over to him while Fugo screwed up his face in an attempt not to laugh.

You tried to help Narancia up but he was too busy gawking at Fugo.

“What the hell are you? How did—I went right through you. What kind of nasty trick is that?”

“It’s not a trick,” Fugo said, and his patient tone only made Narancia angrier.

“Don’t think you can fool me, kid. I have a switchblade in my pocket and I’m not afraid to use it.”

You burst out, “He’s a ghost,” at the same time that Fugo wryly said, “I’m a ghost.”

Narancia looked between you and Fugo. You didn’t think it was possible for anyone to look more confused.

“He’s a what?”

A few minutes, many interjections and tired sighs later, Narancia was caught up on what had happened yesterday. He took it better than you would’ve expected and seemed more amazed at the novelty of a living spirit more than anything else. He spent the next little while putting his hand through Fugo’s chest and chucking various things at him, always astonished when Fugo sustained no harm.

“I just can’t believe it,” he said for the umpteenth time. “A bona fide ghost. Oh, I just realized I’ve been throwing all this garbage at you and haven’t even introduced myself.” He stuck his hand out. “I’m Narancia Ghirga. It’s nice to meet you. Well, not really, but you know.”

Fugo eyed Narancia’s hand skeptically, not sure if he was being serious or not. “My name is Fugo,” he said.

“What is that, Italian?”

“I suppose.”

Narancia shook his head in amazement again, pushing back his dark hair. “Where’d you find him? How did you find him?”

“Instinct.” You’d been looking for some coffee to offer Narancia and realized with annoyance that you didn’t have any left. “It’s never a problem finding the ghost. Sending them back is the trouble.”

“How’d you die?” Narancia asked Fugo. “Were you stabbed or something?”

“I can’t remember.” Fugo frowned. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

“I bet you were stabbed. Everyone’s getting stabbed nowadays. Or maybe some car ran you over. Or you got into a fistfight and then got dumped into a ditch.”

“Or,” you interrupted. “He died of perfectly normal causes and just needs a chance to say goodbye to his loved ones.”

Narancia rolled his eyes. “Where’s the fun in that? Every ghost has to do that.” Then his face lit up. “Say, why don’t I help you two find out how Fugo died? I know a bunch of places we could start looking.”

“No, thank you,” you said curtly.

Fugo blinked at you. “Why not? The more help the better, right? Besides, how many other people in this town could possibly see a ghost?”

You didn’t really have an argument. It was just that it was tiring enough having to look out for a ghost without Narancia bouncing around all over the place. Still, some help would be nice. If Narancia toned it down, you’d be willing to accept his offer.

“My mom always said I was gifted,” Narancia said excitedly. “I could see spirits all the time when I was little, you know.”

“Fine. But don’t go around telling everyone. I don’t need people looking at us funny,” you said, as you started washing your plates.

“I’m getting chills just thinking about it. What are we going to do once we find Fugo’s murderer?”

“I wasn’t murdered,” Fugo said.

“How do you know? You’re Italian. The chances go up when you’re Italian.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You were probably involved with a whole ring of underground crime lords.”

“This coming from the person whose name is basically ‘orange.’”

“So you are Italian!”

“I never said I wasn’t!”

“You were getting all huffy about it so I assumed—”

“You’ve been doing nothing but assume!”

An ear-piercing ring cut the boys’ bickering short. You started so hard you almost dropped the plate you’d been washing. Your telephone gave another shrieking ring and you rushed to it, cursing under your breath. You had a feeling you knew who was calling.

“Where the hell are you?” a sharp voice demanded when you picked up. “Didn’t you hear a thing at yesterday’s meeting? Time is money, kid, and I don’t have either to waste.”

You could just feel your good humour fleeing. It was amazing the effect he had on you.

“I’m taking a sick day, Prosciutto. I was going to call.”

Prosciutto scoffed—a sound he couldn’t go for two minutes without making. “Like hell you are.”

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

#jjba #jjba x reader #jjba fanfic #golden wind #vento aureo #gender neutral reader #pannacotta fugo #jjba fugo #fugo x reader #liberava

5 notes · View notes

cophene · 4 days

Text

040 || ☆ ⁺ « RUPTURE LIKE A BALLOON.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

pairing : vento aureo x gn reader summary : with virtually nothing left in their credit account, a gang of space thieves turn to the richest man in the galaxy to give them a job worth millions. too bad those never come easy, even with stand abilities and pretty-faced crew notes : sci-fi au, multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn’t follow canon plot word count : 3.2k+

★˚⋆ ZERO'S SHIP WAS SHINY AND SPRAWLING. Just what was expected from the richest man in the galaxy. Everything was state-of-the-art and stupidly advanced. Bots that hummed by periodically had to be swiftly deactivated and disposed of. Sensors had to be avoided, and every time they entered a new area, a solid five minutes had to be dedicated to just scoping the place out. Besides the bots, there was no one else on the ship, which only made it more stupid that it was so obnoxiously large.

There was surveillance from practically all angles. Once you noticed the tiny black boxes in every corner and along every edge, it was impossible to unsee them. There were only specific strips along the ship that lined up with the camera's blind spots, and even then, you weren't one hundred percent hidden.

Luckily for Passione, Stands had never shown up well on surveillance feeds. To their knowledge, Stands were unable to be captured by any form of recording device, be it holograms, feeds, or pings. In an age where anything could be recorded, Stands were virtually untraceable to everyone but their users.

It was a godsend. While everyone tried to keep to the corners and edges of the ship, they were able to send out their Stands ahead of them and use their sight to spy on Chariot Requiem.

They were all surprised to find that Chariot Requiem was simply wandering around the same way it had been on their own ship. In fact, it might as well have been the only one on Zero's ship at all. Neither he nor Bruno were anywhere to be found, a fact that they didn't know whether they should be glad or anxious about.

Fugo's guess was that they were on the bridge. Someone had to be watching the surveillance feeds right now. Zero knew better than to rush at Chariot Requiem head on. He was likely biding his time, learning all he could of the Stand before he made his move.

In that case, they were on the same page. Chariot Requiem was as much a mystery to Passione as to Zero.

Mista wasn't sure what instinct possessed him to do it, but when everyone split up, he decided to go with Giorno and Polnareff. He was as put off as anyone at Giorno's sudden change in demeanour, but out of everyone, he seemed to know what he was doing, and Mista needed some stability in his life right now.

And honestly, after pouring his heart to Bruno, he was a little embarrassed to be around the Captain right now. He didn't think he could look them in the eye without everything spilling out, so he might as well keep his distance until the timing was better.

Giorno stalked the two meters he was allowed behind his Stand, keeping one hand firmly on Polnareff and the other trailing along the wall. Not once did he look back at Mista, and he had to wonder if the prince even knew he was there. When Mista allowed the Pistols to go ahead, they were unusually subdued. None of their usual shrieking and hollering. Chariot Requiem wasn't acting any differently than it had before. Mista half-hoped it would, if only so that they could learn something about it.

It was frustrating. Everyone was used to rushing in headlong, guns blazing. Patience was a different game entirely—one that frankly no one was very good at. Mista just wanted to shoot someone. He couldn't handle this cat-and-mouse bullshit. He wanted to shoot Zero in the head, grab Bruno, and get the flack away from here.

But at the same time, he couldn't bear to hurt Zero. Not after everything he'd done for them.

Yet more proof that he brainwashed you, Mista thought with a scowl. He went to scratch behind his neck before he stopped himself.

He liked Trish just fine, but it was beyond awkward to be in her body. Besides the obvious, the two of them were polar opposites. Mista was afraid to do anything in case it messed up Trish's body somehow. He hadn't gone to the washroom since they'd switched souls however many hours ago. He was doing his best not to think about it.

All of a sudden, Giorno stopped and Mista nearly ploughed into him. He halted just in time, his hand going right for his elector.

"What's wrong?" he whispered.

Giorno raised his hand slightly, staring straight ahead. He craned his head to look around the corner, then drew back.

"Chariot Requiem stopped," he said softly.

"What do you mean?"

"It's not moving anymore. I don't know why."

Mista frowned. "Maybe it ran out of energy?"

"More likely that it's waiting for something," Polnareff said.

It was still hard for Mista to believe that Chariot Requiem had a consciousness all on its own. It was one thing for Stands to be sentient, but if it didn't have a user, didn't that mean it was no longer a Stand?

Mista risked a peek over Giorno's shoulder. Chariot Requiem really had stopped, staring at a wall intently with the Stand Arrow still resting over its shoulder. It hadn't stopped pacing once when it had been back on Passione's ship. What was different now?

The Stand was currently in a corner where two corridors met, one branching off to the upper levels of the ship and the other one to the lower levels. There was one camera stationed nearby, but positioned in such a way that it would catch only the edge of whatever happened at the corner.

"You should call the others," Mista said five minutes later when the Stand still hadn't moved. "If there's ever a time to attack, it would be now."

Giorno nodded, cupping a hand over one ear to whisper into his earpiece. This entire situation was fraying Mista's nerves to bits. The longer they went without anything happening, the more he got scared that something was about to. Where the hell were Zero and Bruno? Having a tea party somewhere?

"Fugo and the Captain are on their way. Trish and Abbacchio are still trying to keep an eye on Zero," Giorno said, ending the ping.

"You still don't have any ideas on Chariot Requiem?" Mista asked Polnareff. A part of him was still salty the old guy had let this happen to his Stand to begin with. You'd think as its former user, Polnareff would have something useful to say about it. Right now, it was hard to look at him, what with the second head growing out of him and everything.

Speaking of which, the tip of Mista's index finger had started flaking off, a second nail growing underneath the first. He hoped they would get this over with before he started mutating something freaky like Polnareff and Abbacchio.

"The only thing I can think of is that its weakness must have something to do with our individual souls," Polnareff murmured. Giorno lifted up the turtle so the two of them could hear him better. "From what I've seen, a Stand's weakness is closely associated with its abilities. If it can manipulate souls, there must be something in that produces a weakness."

"All that time studying Stands and that's all you can tell us?" Mista said flatly.

Giorno shot him a look.

"What? I could've told you that much and it's not like I have a PhD in Stands."

"No, you're right. I should have more to tell you. I'm frustrated that I don't."

Polnareff sounded so weary that Mista instantly felt bad. Sure, he was stuck in the body of a girl, but it had to be so much worse to be stuck in the body of a turtle.

"That was my bad," Mista said, awkwardly patting Polnareff's shell. "It's not like any of us have much experience with something like ... this."

"Regardless, I can't help but feel I should've done more. I called myself the Stand Arrow's guardian for so long and yet I'm powerless in the face of it. All that time I spent, I could have been studying Chariot. I should have had a wealth of knowledge to impart instead of letting all of you stumble into this blind."

"Please don't blame yourself, Dr. Polnareff. No one could have foreseen these events. You have been an invaluable ally thus far. It's only because of you that the galaxy hadn't fallen to the chaos of Chariot Requiem sooner."

It was a strangely kind thing to say on Giorno's part. Mista couldn't help feeling surprised.

"Thank you, Your Highness. That's very gracious of you," Polnareff said.

"How did you manage to pretend to be JoJo for so long?" Mista muttered. "Do all Imperial people just talk like that?"

"Before we continue on, there's something I'd like to tell you," Polnareff said.

Mista groaned. So far, nothing good had followed after words like that.

"Are you also secretly an Imperial prince?"

Polnareff cleared his throat. "If Chariot Requiem is able to switch our souls back, it's possible that I will die once that happens."

See? Nothing flacking good ever came from words like that.

"You're going to die?" Mista said. "The flack does that mean? Why would you die? Why is everyone just dying all of a sudden?"

"The dart that Sheila shot at me was not merely a tranquilizer," Polnareff started to explain but Mista interrupted him.

"Wait, what? The person who shot you was Sheila? How do you know?"

"Who else could it have been?" Giorno asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, so this was just common knowledge?" Giorno did not look surprised in the slightest about the revelations about Sheila, or Polnareff's impending death. Mista found it supremely irritating.

"She meant to kill me," Polnareff said grimly. "Zero probably knew that I would never have agreed to negotiate with him. The dart contained trace amounts of poison. No doubt my body has been slowly wasting away all of this time. I felt myself slipping in the moments before Chariot Requiem swapped our souls. My body is only hanging on because the turtle needs less energy than I do. If I were to return, it is not likely I would survive."

"But Fugo never said anything about poison," Mista said. He gritted his teeth. That flacking engineer. He didn't tell the crew flacking anything anymore.

"I would've asked him to keep the information to himself anyway," Polnareff said. "I didn't want to worry you any more than you already were."

Mista ran a hand over his cap, agitated. "So you're just going to die? There's nothing we can do about that?"

Polnareff took a while to reply. "As far as I'm aware, there isn't. I have already made arrangements. Despite everything, I was always prepared for a quick demise."

He sounded so resigned about the whole thing, poor bastard. Mista would be furious in his situation, but Polnareff had already made his peace with it. It wasn't like Mista knew Polnareff all that well, but it still sucked that he would die once all of this was over. Mista didn't know the half of it, but Polnareff had been through a lot in his life; his scars and cybernetics attested to that.

"I trained Bruno to take over for me once I was gone," Polnareff said, seeming to read Mista's thoughts. "He should be able to continue my work without problem."

Mista sniffed. "Assuming we manage to get him back."

Neither Giorno nor Polnareff assured him that they would. Their glowing confidence was very reassuring.

Giorno turned his face down as his ping went off. Mista tapped on his earpiece to listen in.

"We're in the corridor," Fugo said, sounding slightly out of breath. "Chariot Requiem is within sight."

"Tell us what you see," Giorno said, leaning out to study Chariot Requiem. Mista peeked out above his head, staring as though he hadn't spent the past few minutes doing just that.

"Chariot Requiem is at a strange angle. I don't know what it is, but something seems off."

"Are you good?" Mista said. "Off, how?"

"You see the place where the corridor intersects, right?" The Captain's voice now. "The Stand is standing right in front of the second corridor where you are. There's a light right above it, but its shadow is falling across from us."

"Its shadow should be pointing towards you, though." Mista shook his head. "Whatever. That's not important."

"Isn't it?" Fugo said. "Why are we seeing its shadow from two different perspectives?"

"Because we haven't had enough sleep?"

"There's no reason for why that would happen, though," Giorno said. "We could only see the shadow differently if..."

"Someone's coming," Polnareff hissed, retreating into his shell. At the same time, both Giorno and Mista drew back around the corner.

A pair of footsteps sounded down the corridor from the upper levels. Mista wasn't sure where the Captain and Fugo hid to avoid being seen, but a few minutes later, two people appeared from around the corner.

Mista could only see the slightest slip of what was happening from his vantage point. Even on his own ship, Zero was still wearing his mask. He strode toward Chariot Requiem purposefully, Bruno on his heels. The difference between when Mista had last seen Bruno and now was striking. Chariot Requiem's mutations had reached his face. His skin was ashen, one of his eyes drooping into his cheek and his jawbone jutting partially out of his skin. Blood matted his clothes, and his movements were stiff and bruised. Despite his ragged appearance, adoration lit his eyes as he looked at Zero.

It churned Mista's stomach, even as he felt a little of the same admiration looking at Zero now. Just what had Zero's Stand done to them both?

"Are you ready?" Zero asked. His voice rang out strangely in the corridor. Mista suppressed a shudder.

Bruno didn't answer right away. Zero repeated the question, and this time, Mista didn't miss the surge of annoyance he heard there.

"I don't know," Bruno said woodenly.

"You don't know?"

There was a rustle of fabric, a muffled cry.

"What do you mean, you do not know?" Zero's voice was sharp. "Did you not say you were willing to do anything for me? Why do you hesitate? Are you afraid? You do not mind dying, do you?"

"I don't," Bruno gasped. "It's just that I—that I—"

Mista clenched his fists. It took everything in him not to rush out and sock Zero in the face.

"You serve no one in the galaxy but me," Zero seethed, his voice low and lethal. "If I tell you to do something, you do it without question. I do not have time for this disrespect, do you understand me?"

Bruno's voice was small. "Yes, sir."

"Pierce your Stand with the Stand Arrow, Bruno."

Mista flinched. Why the flack would Zero want Bruno to do that? Unless he wanted Sticky Fingers to attain Requiem?

Giorno began whispering with such intensity into his comm that Mista thought he was possessed.

"Fugo, there's only one way Chariot Requiem's shadow can appear in different perspectives like that to all of us. We're only seeing it now because we're looking at it from different directions. Dr. Polnareff, tell me if you think I'm wrong, but I think that Chariot Requiem is the shadow of each of our souls. That's how it's able to manipulate our Stands and redirect our attacks, not to mention its appearance. If that's the case, that means each of us emits our own light source which affects how Chariot Requiem appears to us."

"We're not flacking light strips," Mista sniped. "How is that possible?"

"But it makes sense," Polnareff whispered. "Look at the Stand's shadow. It's falling directly across from us, despite the fact that the lights of the ship are directly overhead."

Mista heard the Captain swear faintly over the comm.

"No, I'm thinking it's more that Chariot Requiem appears in the shadow of our souls," Fugo said. "If we get rid of the shadow, the Stand physically cannot manifest."

"But what's the light source?" Mista said.

"What are you waiting for?" Zero roared. "Pierce your Stand with the Arrow now!"

"Whatever happens next, keep yourself hidden," Giorno said to Mista. He passed off Polnareff. "Do not come out unless I tell you to."

"What are you going to do—"

Giorno rushed out from the corner without warning. Mista's mouth fell open, and he started after him, just barely remembering to stay behind the corridor. He craned his neck around the corner as far as it would go, horror washing over him as he watched.

Giorno rushed directly at Bruno and Zero. Zero turned around at the sudden footsteps, shouting in surprise and anger. Giorno shoved Bruno so hard he was sent sprawling. Zero didn't have time to react before Giorno twisted around in a tight motion and summoned his Stand in the same breath.

"Gold Experience!"

His Stand drove its fist into something unseen just shy of Giorno's head. All at once, Chariot Requiem ruptured like an obscene balloon with too much air. Its limbs shot every which way, the Arrow launching out of its grip.

Giorno reached for it, but Zero tackled him, bringing the prince down hard.

"Ah, shit," Mista muttered, reaching for his elector. He raised it up, summoning the Pistols to try and get a hit on Zero.

"Guys," Trish said over the comms. "What's happening? Where are you?"

"Giorno went after Zero and Chariot Requiem," the Captain said. "They're struggling over the Arrow."

"We've gotta do something," Mista hissed. "If I can just get a hit in—"

"Don't do anything," Fugo said. "Everything is extremely volatile right now. Zero might use his Stand and we don't know if Chariot Requiem is dead or not. You'll make things worse."

Mista swore. "The Prince is getting his ass beat, Fugo!"

Giorno and Zero struggled against each other furiously. Giorno seemed stronger and more skilled, but Zero was a rabid animal, fiercely desperate. He elbowed Giorno in the face, then rammed his knee savagely into Giorno's stomach. Giorno didn't move as Zero scrambled up toward the Arrow.

"At last!" he cried. "The Arrow is finally mine!"

For the first time, Mista got a glimpse of Zero's Stand. It was dressed in richly embroidered robes, its face bone-white and expressionless. Silver needles extended for fingers, glinting and deadly sharp. Its needles reached out now, scratching over the Arrow's shaft as it pulled it toward itself.

"Flack, what do we do?" Mista said.

"Listen to us first," Abbacchio said. "We figured out Zero's identity."

Mista's eyes widened. "You what?"

Just as Zero's Stand lifted up the Arrow, it phased through its hands as though it were a hologram. Zero cried out in rage, his Stand picking up the Arrow only for it to fall through its fingers again.

"What have you done?!" he howled. "I alone am worthy to wield Requiem! The Arrow belongs solely to me!"

At his words, a cold wind swept through the ship, stirring Mista's cap. A chill went down Mista's spine, and he looked around, confused.

"It's coming from Chariot Requiem's body," the Captain said.

Mista looked, and sure enough, mist was seeping out from the Stand's body. He had barely registered this before his stomach dropped and—

—he slipped out of Trish's body.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

#kismetva #jjba #jjba x reader #jjba fanfic #golden wind #golden wind x reader #vento aureo #vento aureo x reader #gender neutral reader #sci fi au

1 note · View note

cophene · 6 days

Text

018 | soccer ball brothers.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

pairing : jojolion x gn reader summary : the heir to an limitless fortune goes on a vacation to morioh to find their true love. seems easy enough; only, if that they're unable to find their love, they'll lose not just their fortune, but their life. notes : multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn’t follow canon plot word count : 2.4k+

★ . . . Y/N, WAIT.” JOSUKE TRIED TO stop you but you were already stalking forward, bone dice clenched hard enough in your fist to hurt. The twin restraining Karera looked up at you, his face placid.

“I said to let her go,” you yelled. “The hell do you think you’re doing?”

“She owes us.” From behind you and Josuke, the other soccer twin emerged. You looked between the two of them. Ponytail, you decided—trying to tell the two of them apart—and the one holding Karera was Piercing.

You didn’t even want to know what Karera had gotten herself into this time. “I can pay you, whatever it is,” you said. “Just let her go.”

“It’s not that simple,” Piercing said. “Unfortunately, this isn’t something that can be paid for in money.”

What were the odds that these two were Stand users, you wondered?

“Alright then,” you said. “If it can’t be paid for in money, what about a favour?”

“Y/N,” Josuke said tightly.

“Don’t give them anything!” Karera shrieked, managing to pull Piercing’s hand from her mouth. “I’ve got this under control! Just get out of here.”

You stepped forward, extending your hand and the bone dice. “If you roll under seven, you let Karera go. If you roll over that, I’ll do whatever you want.”

The brothers eyed the dice in your hand and then each other, probably thrown by the fact that you wanted them to roll lower numbers.

“Why the hell would we do that?” Ponytail sneered. He stepped forward to grab Josuke’s arm but he shrugged him off with a glare.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that you’re Stand users,” you said, forcing calm into your voice that you didn’t feel. “I happen to have a Stand myself. By laying out my terms before you roll the dice, I bind myself and you to them. Depending on what you roll, I will be bound to my agreement. My Stand will kill me unless I do whatever you want, should you roll higher than seven.”

Karera was struggling to break free from Ponytail. He tightened his grip on her, making her cry out.

“Then if we roll lower than seven, we’ll also die?” Piercing said. He was on your other side, his voice menacing in your ear.

You lifted your chin. “Only if you don’t let Karera go.”

The brothers exchanged glances.

“You’re L/N Y/N, aren’t you?” Piercing said, and your heart almost stopped. “The one who’s been going around with their endless fortune?”

“What a coincidence that you also happen to be a Stand user,” Ponytail said. All at once, he shoved Karera aside. In the same moment, Piercing decked you across the face.

Josuke shouted your name and a beat later, you heard the breath get knocked out of him as one of the twins slammed their fist into his stomach.

“You stay out of this,” Ponytail growled. “Get that bitch out of here.”

Karera barely managed to catch Josuke as he staggered back. Meanwhile, Piercing had dragged you to the car and was grinding your face against the hood.

“Give me the dice.”

Through gritted teeth, you released the dice into his hand. You weren’t worried. Dancing’s Done would protect you. There was no way in hell either of the brothers would roll above a seven.

But then you realized. The terms you’d laid down were null. Karera was no longer being restrained by Ponytail. That had never happened before—a part of the agreement being done before the dice were rolled. What would that mean for you exactly? If either of the brothers rolled below a seven, your Stand would have nothing to hold over them.

Shit! You struggled, but Piercing was holding you down fast. You should have started running as soon as he’d let Karera go.

“Either you stay where you are or you get the fuck out of here!” one of the twins barked behind you. “Or do you want to see what happens when we use our Stands?”

You were torn between wanting Josuke and Karera to get away and needing their help. If these twins happened to have stronger Stands than the three of you, you were fucked.

If only your Stand wasn’t so damn finicky. You could only indirectly control it through the bone dice, and even then, it wasn’t like you decided how it would inflict punishment. Without an agreement and without your dice, you might as well not have a Stand at all.

Piercing shook your bone dice in his fist. Every clink! clink! set your teeth on edge. He opened his fist over the hood of the car and your dice rolled once, twice, before settling.

One pip on each die. That was hardly surprising.

“What a fucking joke,” Piercing growled. You tried to shove Ponytail off of you but he slammed you into the side of the car and you crumpled. You heard two plinks as your dice fell on the ground nearby, and you managed to scoop them into your pocket before Piercing yanked you back roughly.

“Let me go,” you rasped. It was too much to hope that Dancing’s Done would do anything to either of the brothers. No limbs or fingers fell off as Piercing opened the fuel tank door and began unscrewing the gas cap.

He wasn’t going to make you drink gasoline, was he? You had never felt particularly threatened because of your family’s fortune, but you now wondered if that was only because no one knew about it. It was entirely possible that someone in your family could be kidnapped and held for ransom—indefinitely.

With one hand inside the gas tank and the other gripping your arm, you watched, horrified, as the arm restraining you loosened and then began to flow like water. In a matter of moments, you were drenched with it, and before you could understand what was happening, his brother was bringing a lighter to your face.

You screamed as your body burst into flame. Piercing and Ponytail stood back, watching impassively as agonizing heat seared your skin. Just as it started to become too much, you heard Josuke shout, “Soft and Wet!”

You barely had a chance to look at his Stand before you were enveloped in a swarm of bubbles. They extinguished the flames with hisses of steam, and impossibly, they seemed to take the heat and pain from your body with them.

For a second, you couldn’t breathe. Your hands slammed onto the pavement as you heaved for breath, your mind whirling. No burns, you thought, staring at your hands. I’m okay. How am I okay?

You hadn’t taken Josuke for the boxing type, but he delivered a swiftly precise punch to Piercing’s face, knocking his head back. A bubble welled up in his cheek before it ruptured with a burst of blood.

Karera was nowhere near as elegant, rushing at Piercing like an Amazonian warrior and bringing her knee up into his groin. It got the job done though, because as he stumbled off, she and Josuke pulled you to your feet and you all hauled ass.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Josuke asked. He kept glancing over his shoulder. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“You were literally on fire!” Karera screeched. “How are you still alive?!”

“Hell if I know,” you coughed. “It was Josuke’s Stand. It probably took away the pain and burning too.”

“Crazy bastards,” Karera spat. “The hell is wrong with them? Burning a person alive?”

“He turned his hand into gasoline.” You shuddered just remembering the sensation. “I’ve never seen a Stand like that.”

“Is everyone in Morioh just running around with a Stand or what?” Karera asked Josuke.

His face darkened. “There are people here who aren’t quite . . . normal. You don’t have to look far to find people willing to hurt you.”

“Oh, but that goes for anywhere,” Karera said. “I’m just wondering if burning people alive is a Morioh specialty or something.”

“I’m the one who should be indignant,” you muttered. “Why the hell were those two soccer bozos going after you anyway?”

“I was trying to make a quick buck. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

Josuke raised an eyebrow.

Karera stuck out her tongue at him. “My Stand can make hair grow on things. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“That sounds worse than what I was thinking, actually.”

“Can we stop for a second?” you blurted out. “I just—I need a breather.”

Gingerly, Karera and Josuke lowered you onto the stoop of a nearby apartment building. You took in a deep breath and didn’t release it until you felt the coldness of your dice in your hand.

Clink! Clink! Clink!

“What happened with your Stand back there?” Karera said, plopping down beside you. “Shouldn’t those guys’ limbs have been falling off? They rolled a two, didn’t they?”

“I set out a bad agreement,” you said. “They had already released you so there was nothing for my Stand to compel them to do.”

“You have no way of controlling what your Stand does outside of the dice?” asked Josuke.

“Nope. It’s kind of like a remote-controlled Stand, I guess. And these dice aren’t Stands themselves, I don’t think. Non-users can see them, obviously, and there have been a few times when I’ve left them behind. If I lost these dice or damaged them somehow, I’d be out of a Stand.”

There had been one time when you’d forgotten your dice in a hotel in Naples. It had seemed like a no-brainer to just pick up another pair of dice and use that instead. You had learned the hard way that only your bone dice could be used to activate your Stand. You genuinely couldn’t remember where your dice had come from. They had always been a part of you and now, taking them with you was just second nature.

“You should be more careful,” Josuke said, frowning down at his shoes. “You don’t know the kind of people who might go after you if they know you have a fortune that never runs out.”

“Yeah, I know,” you said. You didn’t say that you might not have a fortune for much longer. Your birthday was two weeks from now. Only fourteen more days to find your true love.

You jolted then. “Wait, Josuke, what are you still doing here? You should be getting back to the fruit parlour! Aren’t you still on break?”

Josuke shrugged. “I’m way over my break now. I’ll go back and let Norisuke-san know that I’m taking the day off.”

Guilt pricked at your chest. “But why?”

“Because I don’t trust either of you enough to leave you alone right now. And you still haven’t tried beef tongue pickled in miso and that I can’t leave that be.”

No matter how many times Karera insisted otherwise, she could not hold her alcohol. You knew after her second round of sake that there were only two ways the night would end: with Karera hollering love ballads at the top of her lungs and then emptying her guts on the street, or passed out and dead to the world. She was currently snoring against your shoulder, so you decided to count that as a win.

After what had happened with Yasuho, you weren’t too keen on drinking. You and Josuke were currently nursing flat glasses of soda, talking about nothing as the staff began to clean the restaurant up for the night. You were glad that the beef tongue had been every good as Josuke promised, warm and hearty and thoroughly delicious. You weren’t sure if meals cooked by a French chef and then served by an army of staff could be considered home-cooked, but throughout the whole meal you had been nostalgic for something homey.

“How did you and Karera meet?” Josuke asked, hiding a smile as Karera let out a particularly loud snore.

“I don’t remember, to be honest. She must have been over for a school project or something. I caught her trying to steal one of our house decorations and that was that.”

“She knows about your fortune but she never makes you use it for her,” Josuke said, and you were surprised by the observation.

“She’s stubborn like that. I think she hates owing people anything.” You would always appreciate that about Karera, though. She saw you first, not your money. Your money was your business. And though you didn’t say it out loud, you thought Josuke might be the same way. He had quietly paid the bill tonight by himself, pretending to leave for the restroom. It didn’t seem to matter that you had an infinite amount of money. If Josuke had the means to do something for you, he would.

You felt a pang in your chest.

“Your birthday is coming up in two weeks,” Josuke said in a low voice. “Are you—have you had any luck?”

“Not that I know of,” you sighed. “My mom wants me to meet with her this weekend. If I don’t have anyone to introduce to her by then, she’s locking me out from the family fortune.”

Josuke sucked in a breath. “Isn’t that being too harsh? You’re trying your hardest. Your mother should be able to see that.”

“She’s scared. She doesn’t want to lose it all.”

My fortune. My family. My life.

“I think you should meet with Yasuho again,” Josuke said suddenly. He blushed slightly when you looked at him. “She’s an amazing person. I think it’d be worth it to get to know her better.”

You hadn’t thought about Yasuho in a while. Of course you’d like to see her again but you were starting to wonder if it wasn’t too late already.

It was hard not to lose hope. You could only be so optimistic.

A rush of impulsiveness overwhelmed you then, and for a second, you wanted to tell Josuke everything.

“If I don’t find my true love, I’ll die. I’ll lose my fortune and my life, Josuke. I’m terrified and I don’t know what to do.”

The words balled together into a lump in your throat. The brand on the back of your hand pulsed, darker now than you had ever seen.

“There has to be some way out of this,” Josuke said, reading something in your face. “We’ll figure this out. True love can’t be the only way to go about this.”

You smiled, murmured something in agreement. But there was only one thing you could think as you and Josuke left the restaurant, Karera hanging blearily on your arm. Josuke called you a cab to the villa and you waved goodbye, trying to keep his smile in your mind’s eye.

If there was a different way we would have found it already.

We would have found it already.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

#okoshijjl #jjba #jjba x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jojolion #jojolion x reader #gender neutral reader

3 notes · View notes

cophene · 8 days

Text

ii. sandwich.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

⊱ FUGO ASKED FOR YOUR NAME again as you left the field and repeated it a few times to himself, apparently wanting to commit it to memory. You tried to get him to remember the rest of his name, but his mind stubbornly remained blank. As it stood, you didn’t know if Fugo was his first or last name or even a nickname. At least you had it, you supposed.

At the chain link fence, Fugo hesitated while you found the same foothold you’d used to earlier and started climbing. With one last, unreasonably loud rattle, you hopped off the other side, wincing when your ankles smarted. Fugo was still staring at you through the fence.

“What are you waiting for?”

“I can’t climb this,” he said. “Isn’t there a gate or something?”

“There probably is, but I was too impatient to use it.” You waited a beat, then said, gingerly, “You know you don’t have to climb it, right? You’re—you are a ghost, I mean.”

The tips of Fugo’s ears reddened. Somehow, it had never occurred to you that ghosts could blush. You found it strangely endearing.

“Just step on through. I don’t think it’ll hurt you.”

Fugo eyed the fence. You hoped you were right. If you weren’t, the metal would rip Fugo to shreds and the guilt would kill you.

Fugo sucked in a breath. Turning sideways, he took little steps through the fence, his eyes shut all the while. You took up your messenger bag from the ground, not sure if you wanted to laugh or feel sorry for him. The fence remained silent all throughout, barely even vibrating as Fugo moved through it.

He shuddered visibly once he’d made it through the fence.

“I never want to do that again,” he said. “That felt violating.”

“For you or the fence?”

Fugo shot you a look. “Where’s your apartment?”

You walked back through the warehouses and then down the street. They were virtually empty now, only a few lone stragglers darting between pools of lamplight. You kept your steps unhurried, even though you were tempted to sprint all the way back to your apartment.

It was disconcerting to have a ghost following at your back. Although you knew he was there, it was still odd only to hear one pair of footsteps and see no accompanying shadow by yours. All you felt was a faintly cold draft. It made the goosebumps rise on your arms and neck. You kept looking back every once in a while to make sure Fugo hadn’t drifted away somewhere.

Not that you would have complained. A part of you was still hoping he would be gone by morning.

For the most part, Fugo kept his eyes on the pavement. You wanted him to look around and see if the buildings and street signs jogged something in his memory. Sometimes a cab would pass by or another person, and Fugo would look up briefly before hunching back in on himself. Ghosts were reminiscent of their living selves. It looked like Fugo hadn’t been all that confident of himself when he’d been alive.

You tried not to think about it too much, but it was impossible not to. Who was Fugo? How old was he? What if he wasn’t from here? He could have been from a different country. A different time even. His clothes didn’t look too outdated, but he could’ve been from the eighteenth century and you wouldn’t know. Until Fugo regained more of his memories, you had no idea where to even begin helping him look for closure. If he had been killed in some fantastical, ludicrous way, what could you do to help him then?

But he couldn’t have, you thought, looking at Fugo through your periphery. He seems too intense to have died in any strange way.

“Does anything seem familiar?” you asked.

Fugo looked up from his shoes, glancing at a few of the storefronts. “Not really.”

You nodded. That was fine. This took time. You just had to be patient, hard as that was.

Your apartment building finally came into view and the knot in your chest eased somewhat. So far, no one had reacted to Fugo’s presence. You weren’t even sure anyone could see him, but you never knew.

This late, there was no one in the front lobby. With a pinch of annoyance, you realized the elevator operator had already gone home for the night. You led Fugo up three flights of stairs. As usual, the stairwell smelled of stale cigarette smoke and wet dog. After an obscene number of stairs, you reached your apartment door.

You dug around in your messenger bag for your keys, taking them out so hastily that they dropped to the floor. You swore, reaching down to grab them, but not before Fugo crouched down to retrieve the keys for you. It would’ve been nice of him if his fingers hadn’t passed through the keys entirely.

A look of dismay crossed Fugo’s face. You pretended not to notice and scooped up your keys yourself. Nonetheless, you said, “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I keep forgetting,” Fugo said tightly. He rose to his feet. “I have to get used to this.”

You swung your apartment door open. There was an awkward minute where your hand scrabbled around for the light switch, but eventually you found it and filled the front entryway with brassy yellow light. It was only when you closed your door and slid the two locks into place that you felt like you could relax.

“What am I going to do here?” Fugo asked. “If I’m a ghost, won’t I just pass through everything?”

You considered him for a second.

“Try hanging up your hat,” you said.

Fugo arched an eyebrow. “That’s not going to work.”

“How do you know? Just try it.”

Fugo obliged. He placed his hat on the coat rack by the door, keeping his hand there for a beat in case it fell. It didn’t, and Fugo looked as surprised as you felt. He shrugged off his jacket and hung that up too, and you both took a minute to just stare at his things hung up besides yours. Really, you were trying to look at Fugo from the corner of your eye. His white shirt was neatly tucked into his trousers. He had a narrow waist and slim shoulders you hadn’t noticed under the jacket.

“How does that work?” Fugo asked.

“Maybe because they aren’t in contact with your person.” You headed into your kitchen, flicking on the light there too. “Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?”

“Can ghosts eat?”

“We’ll find out.”

Fugo watched with interest as you opened your messenger bag and took something out. You scanned your apartment, then settled for placing the little pot on top of your refrigerator. There was a crack in the ceramic from where you’d fallen on it, but it would hold another plant just fine once you found one.

“Do you like planting things?”

You felt embarrassed even though it was a completely benign observation. “Yeah. I guess.”

While Fugo drifted around your apartment, you dug through your refrigerator and cupboards for something to eat. The options were limited to a ham and cheese sandwich or canned soup. You didn’t want soup dripping onto the floor if it happened to pass right through Fugo’s mouth, so you settled on the sandwich.

You discreetly kept an eye on Fugo while you set about on the sandwich. You hadn’t decorated your apartment much and so there wasn’t much to be embarrassed about. Your kitchen and living room were really just one squished-together space, so it was small, even by apartment standards. But it was clean, thankfully. Nothing obscene or incriminating lying around. Still, you couldn’t help wondering what ran through Fugo’s mind as he looked at everything. Perhaps the only thing worth noticing in your apartment were the plants everywhere.

You couldn’t say you were an avid gardener. Just that you liked growing green things. Plants made you happy. They grew and were alive and not much else. They were easy. They made your little apartment seem less like a cardboard box. You felt as though the plants helped with your dizziness, although you couldn’t tell Fugo that. There was something comforting about being surrounded with growing green things, even if they always seemed to die as soon as your back was turned.

You grew some of the plants from seeds, but most were donated. From neighbours and family. People knew you liked plants and you never turned one down. There was some pot or other of greenery on every surface you didn’t immediately use.

Fugo seemed, if not appreciative, then at least interested in the plants. Each plant he looked at he was wholly focused and intent on. He moved from each of the plants like a curator at a museum, noting their position and tilting his head slightly. You caught him reaching out his hand a few times as though he wanted to touch something, but then he remembered himself and stopped. You tried not to feel bad when that happened. There wasn’t much you could do for him there.

“Do you live alone?” he asked.

“Have been for a while now.”

“Must be lonely.”

You looked up at that. “It’s not too bad. I have work and my neighbours are nice enough. Sometimes I go over to the jazz club.”

Fugo wrinkled his nose. “You enjoy that?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

“No. I suppose not.”

You finished the sandwiches and set out plates at the table. You’d never had anyone over before, and the sight of two sandwiches was suddenly off-putting to you.

Fugo appeared at the other end of the table. You’d pulled out his chair for him, but you weren’t sure if he would even be able to sit. He slowly lowered himself down, and when he didn’t immediately sink to the floor, he smiled slightly.

“I can sit down. That’s something.”

The sandwich was a little harder. Fugo tried a few times to pick it up but his fingers passed through the bread each time. You didn’t want to pressure him, so you casually bit into your own sandwich. Then you wondered if that would just make him feel worse.

Fugo’s eyebrows drew together. “There has to be some way to do this. Don’t ghosts slam doors and rattle walls?”

“Maybe you don’t have to eat?”

With a look of intense concentration, Fugo poised his fingers over the sandwich. It was a miracle the sandwich didn’t wither into dust. Slowly, deliberately, he got a grip on the sandwich and lifted it. Actually lifted it.

“Well, I’ll be,” you murmured.

Sweat was beading along Fugo’s hairline. He brought the sandwich to his mouth and took a small bite.

“It shouldn’t be this hard to eat a sandwich,” he muttered.

“It’ll get easier,” you said, although you didn’t know if that was the case. The two of you ate in silence for a few minutes. No food was dropping to the floor, so you assumed it was going somewhere. Could Fugo actually taste the food or was he just chewing for the hell of it?

“It seems like you have some experience with . . . all of this,” Fugo said at last. “Have you found a ghost before?”

“No. You’d be the first.”

“Really? Someone must have taught you then.”

“Everyone in my family has had encounters with ghosts, but they keep it to themselves. It tends to get personal, and they find it hard to share the experience.”

You only knew a little bit about how to deal with ghosts from crumbs that your family dropped, mostly unintentionally. What you knew for sure was that you were irrevocably changed once you helped a ghost cross over. Whether that was for the better or worse depended on the ghost.

You didn’t want to be irrevocably changed. You were just fine with who you were now. Your life was quiet, but there was nothing wrong with it. People had it worse.

“You don’t have any family here, then?” Fugo asked.

“Not really. I moved away for college, but that didn’t work out, so I got a job at a store. I don’t want to work there permanently, but I’m staying until I save enough to do something else.”

“And what would ‘something else’ be?”

You finished your sandwich. “I don’t know. Still figuring that out.”

Fugo’s sandwich paused halfway to his mouth. He met your gaze. “I’m sorry about all of this. You must resent me for putting you into this situation.”

You baulked. “No, nothing like that. It’s not your fault. It’s just the way things are. There’s nothing to resent.”

“I’m disrupting your life when mine is already over. I see many things to resent.”

Your chest tightened. You couldn’t afford to think like that or you’d get too angry to do anything.

“I don’t resent you,” you said firmly. “I’m going to help you and that’s that.”

Fugo didn’t look like he believed you, but he didn’t press the point.

He finished his sandwich a few minutes later. You cleaned up, and then directed Fugo to the living room. You didn’t know what it was, but you were suddenly exhausted.

“I hope you don’t mind sleeping on the couch,” you said, spreading a spare blanket and pillow over your plaid couch. “I don’t have anywhere else for you, unfortunately.”

“That’ll be fine.”

“To be honest, I’m not sure if ghosts can sleep. You’ll have to let me know.”

Fugo sat gingerly on top of the couch. He had to concentrate to draw the blanket over himself. He peeked up at you from under the blanket, looking like a little kid. You could’ve forgotten that he was a ghost at all. He seemed very solid at that moment.

“We’ll try to figure something out tomorrow,” you said, adjusting a plant that didn’t need adjusting. “I’ll take you around town, maybe. See if anything sticks out. Hopefully, you’ll remember something and we can go from there.”

“I still don’t understand what ‘crossing over’ means. What has to happen exactly?”

You looked into his face. “You have to remember what it was that was most important to you when you were alive. Once you come to terms with your death and deal with whatever you need done, you’ll be able to cross over.”

Fugo settled deeper into the blanket. “So something is holding me here?”

“You could say so. We won’t know until you remember.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“I guess.”

“What do I look like?”

At your frown, Fugo continued, “I can’t see my reflection. I tried looking in your bathroom earlier. I just wonder … if I still look the way I think I do.”

You took a second before answering. “Your hair’s a dark blonde. You look young. My age, maybe. Your expression is always a little worried, and your eyes … they’re tired. Pensive. And violet. They’re violet.”

You felt your face heating. That was a terrible description. How was anyone supposed to visualize themself with that? But Fugo seemed satisfied.

“So I look human, then? I’m not a ghoul?”

“No, you’re not.”

“That’s a relief. I was worried I looked hideous and you were just too nice to say anything.”

Fugo looked the farthest thing from hideous but you didn’t say that. You smiled weakly.

“Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow. Let me know if you need anything.”

Fugo closed his eyes. “I will. Good night.”

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

#liberava #jjba #jjba x reader #jjba fanfic #golden wind #vento aureo #pannacotta fugo #jjba fugo #fugo x reader #gender neutral reader

6 notes · View notes

cophene · 11 days

Text

039 || ☆ ⁺ « NO REASON TO HESITATE.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

★˚⋆ FUGO SEIZED THE CAPTAIN ROUGHLY by the collar and hauled them up, surprising himself with his own strength. Or rather, Fugo hauled up whoever was in the Captain's body. It remained to be seen whether it was actually the Captain or not.

The Captain groaned, their head lolling. Fugo shook them roughly, and only then did they lift their head. There was a trail of dried blood over one of their temples.

"Fugo?"

"Are you the Captain or not?" Fugo demanded. "Tell the truth. No more flacking lies."

"Of course I am—"

"Tell the truth," Fugo repeated harshly. He stared hard into the Captain's eyes. "Are you the Captain or not? We don't have time to flack around anymore."

It was only because Fugo was looking at the Captain so intently that he saw something melt from their eyes. Confusion slipping into resignation.

"How did you know?" Bruno asked.

Fugo let go of Bruno, his shoulders dropping. "The simplest explanation is usually the right one. It didn't make sense that an ability like Chariot Requiem's would leave two people unaffected. Especially because there were two of you. If it switched Polnareff and Coco Jumbo, there was no reason why you and the Captain wouldn't have been switched too. So that either meant there had been a fluke, or the two of you were lying."

Bruno drew a hand over his face, wincing. "We didn't mean—"

"You were trying to protect us, I know. Except your plan has unwittingly backfired because Zero has the Captain on his ship, thinking they're you. And you're here when we really need the Captain."

"But—"

"I'll explain to you again, because it wasn't really you I was talking to before. The Captain and the rest of the crew are under the influence of Zero's Stand. It manipulates their willpower, makes them more susceptible to whatever Zero wants them to do. The Captain is the one under the strongest influence. They've been fighting it, but something happened. Them going after the Stand Arrow like that was them giving in. Losing control. They are now completely under Zero's control, and won't hesitate to do anything he tells them.

"Right now, Zero thinks you're on his ship because of some vestiges of his power from when you were working for him, Bruno, but when he discovers it's really the Captain and his true hold over them..."

Bruno swore, closing his eyes. Fugo felt much the same. No one knew where Zero was willing to draw the line. He still didn't have the Stand Arrow, not with Chariot Requiem guarding it. There was no guarantee he wouldn't send the Captain out as his bloodhound to track down the crew and force them to get the Arrow for him.

It was a shitshow. The Captain would betray the crew with everyone thinking it was Bruno, while Bruno would be trying to hold things together as the "Captain".

"I've messed everything up, haven't I?" Bruno muttered.

"Things were messed up long before you got back. But you've exacerbated the situation, yes." Fugo found he was too tired to be truly angry at Bruno. He'd already spent most of his temper at the Captain, and Bruno's part in this predicament was small. He had been trying to help. He was always trying to help.

"Come on, we need to wake everyone else up," Fugo said, starting for the engine room. "The Captain has left us with a ship full of comatose crewmembers."

As they went about rousing everyone, Fugo wondered to himself why he was always stuck in this position. He was always dealing with the fallout, the aftermath. He was the one who had to fix everyone's mistakes, to set them back on course, to make everything right. It was exhausting. He shouldn't have been the only one capable of dealing with everyone's bullshit.

To be honest, whatever had led to Bruno's retreat from the crew, Fugo wouldn't have blamed him. Fugo had contemplated doing the same many, many times.

The crew didn't seem to realize just how much they put on his shoulders.

Once everyone had been rounded up on the bridge, Fugo took a minute to just study them all.

Their ragtag crew was even more ragtag than usual. Down a captain and a pilot. Technically, Abbacchio and Giorno weren't even a part of the crew, and Bruno had been gone for a long time. Not to mention Polnareff was stuck in Coco Jumbo's body and nibbling on a piece of carrot. Sheila was still unconscious, now restrained in one of the seats near the back with a gag in her mouth. She would give them hell once she woke up, but they could deal with that when it happened.

They were like a shoddily mended quilt, fraying at the edges.

As it turned out, other people's bodies were like ill-fitting clothes. Awkward and stiff and strange in all the wrong places. On top of looking exhausted and haggard, Passione looked intensely uncomfortable. Paranoid and too scared to make too much contact with anything.

"So does anyone want to explain why Bruno went absolutely berserk and shot me in the face?" Mista said.

"He shot you too?" Trish asked in a small voice.

"It was a Stand ability," Giorno said, because he seemed to have an answer for everything. "Maybe even a byproduct of Chariot Requiem."

"It doesn't seem likely," Polnareff responded. "Chariot Requiem isn't capable of targeting one person, especially not to possess them to charge after the Arrow."

The entire time, Fugo avoided looking at Abbacchio. It was uncanny to watch himself from a distance and he found he couldn't stand it.

"Where is Chariot Requiem?" Abbacchio asked.

"And where's Bruno?" Trish said.

Everyone looked at Fugo. Of course they did. Who else were they going to look at, Polnareff?

To his surprise, Bruno beat him to the punch.

"We're all under the influence of Zero's Stand," he said matter-of-factly. "That's why we even agreed to get the Arrow in the first place. Zero has been subtly controlling us, making sure we did what he wanted. And now Bruno has given in to his Stand completely, having no will of his own. He led Chariot Requiem onto Zero's ship in an attempt to get the Arrow to him. He's probably still on Zero's ship now."

Mista and Trish immediately began to protest. Which was to be expected, considering they were the only two people here still under Zero's control.

Not for the first time, Fugo struggled to recall the exact moment he had broken through the film of Zero's influence. He had been at the initial meeting with Zero, which meant he must have been affected. If the ability affected people in degrees, the effect on him must have been the weakest. If he had to make a guess, the talk with Rikiel must have snapped something.

Rikiel. Fugo didn't know if his plan with the Prince was still in motion. Neither of them had accounted for Donatello, which was a mistake. He could only hope Rikiel was doing what he could to keep Narancia out of Donatello's way.

"It makes sense," Polnareff was saying. "There's no other reason for why Bruno would have acted the way he did. In all the time I've known him, he has never changed his mind so drastically."

"But Zero would never do something like that!" Mista cried. "You can't just control people. We still have our own willpower, don't we? It's not like he's doing something right now?"

Abbacchio narrowed his eyes. "You're proving the point by defending him, you know."

Mista's head whipped toward him, his lips bared in a snarl. But a split second later, he seemed to remember himself and his eyes widened.

"Holy flack. You're right."

"What can we do to save Bruno?" Trish said, biting on her thumb. "We don't know what Zero will do to him. Or what Zero will make him do. What if ... what if Chariot Requiem switched his soul and Zero's?"

Abbacchio raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what you wanted? For Zero's soul to switch with someone so you could have a scapegoat?"

"We wanted Sheila as the scapegoat. Not Bruno," Trish said.

"It's not Zero we have to deal with," Fugo said, even as Trish's words sank like a stone in his gut. "It's Chariot Requiem. We need to figure out a way to defeat it before doing anything to Zero. It's too risky to do anything while it's still walking around."

Giorno raised a hand. "Before we do anything, there's something I need to tell you all."

Fugo's eye twitched in annoyance. He preferred it when the Prince had been pretending to be a scared, timid space rat. He wasn't as bad as Donatello, but he still had that Upper Space gravitas that he couldn't fully shake off.

Even now, with Giorno no longer pretending to be JoJo or Narancia, he had no Upper Space accent. It was a strange thing to notice, but Fugo did.

"Narancia is going to be killed tomorrow."

If nothing else, Fugo could admire Giorno for his impeccable composure.

Trish blinked at him. Mista made a face. Abbacchio stared and Polnareff paused mid-chew. Bruno's face flitted through a few emotions before settling on wariness.

"I'm sorry, what?" Mista said.

Giorno's jaw tightened. "He informed me a few hours ago. I did what I could to guide him, but it was unfair of me to expect him to keep up with the demands of Imperial court. Narancia was unable to withstand the rigorous interrogation, even with my direction. Donatello sees him for what he is—an impostor. He thinks Narancia is a political impersonator, put in place to threaten Imperial security. Narancia is going to be executed for his crimes in twenty-four hours."

If there was ever a time to throw himself out the airlock, this was it, Fugo thought.

"Why are you only telling us this now?" Trish asked, her voice tightening into a shriek. "What are we going to do about that?"

"I'm not telling you this to worry you. I only wanted you to know."

"What do you mean, not worry?" Mista snapped. "The flack else are we going to do? Bruno's stuck on Zero's ship. We're being controlled by Zero's Stand. We have to kill Chariot Requiem and now Narancia's going to get killed!"

There was a flash of annoyance in Giorno's eyes. "As I said, I did not intend for you to worry. I detest repeating myself. I told you that because I have a plan.

"Sheila's ship is docked outside. I'll take it and board Zero's ship. If I can find Chariot Requiem's weakness, I will return with both Bruno and the Stand Arrow. Zero will be dealt with."

"You say all of that as though you'll be able to do it," Abbacchio said.

"I will be able to," Giorno said.

"Right, you against a guy who can manipulate your willpower and a Stand that redirects all of your attacks and swaps your soul," Mista deadpanned.

"I don't mean to be arrogant, but I have a higher chance of success than any of you. You don't know the true capabilities of Gold Experience, and I have had extensive training to deal with situations like this."

I am an Imperial Prince and I am insulted you don't think I can do this, was what Fugo heard.

"Your Highness, are you sure you're going to be capable of identifying Chariot Requiem's weakness?" Polnareff asked carefully. "You'll be under intense pressure."

Giorno smiled, and for a second, Fugo almost saw the cunning Crown Prince.

"I'm always under intense pressure."

Fugo snorted and Giorno glanced at him sidelong.

"I understand what you're saying, however, Polnareff," Giorno said. "It's just that the less people on board Zero's ship, the better. With your permission, I'd like to take you with me."

No sooner had Polnareff acquiesced that Giorno scooped him up and went to the maintenance door.

"Wait, you're actually going to go?" Mista said, shooting to his feet. "You're going to get killed! Er, Your Highness."

Giorno ignored him. Everyone on the bridge looked at each other, then followed after him. They made it all the way to the maintenance door, Giorno picking up Sheila's discarded helmet to twist over his head.

"I'll be back as soon as possible," Giorno said, as though this were a pleasant errand. "Prepare medical supplies and healing pods. I'll require direct transport to the Palaceship afterwards."

Trish shook her head. "We're coming with you."

"That would make things significantly more difficult."

"Don't care," Mista said. "Bruno's one of the crew and so we're going to rescue him. We gotta stick together, right, Captain?"

Fugo and Bruno exchanged a glance. While it would be easier to just let Prince Giorno fly to Zero's ship himself, Mista was right. Even if no one else was aware it was really the Captain in Bruno's body, their sense of loyalty was inextricable.

Besides, what else was there to do on the ship besides sit on their asses? They would be of no help to Narancia until everyone was back in their respective bodies. Giorno would never be able to convince anyone of his identity otherwise.

"It's going to be a tight squeeze," Bruno said.

It was more than a tight squeeze. It was nearly as bad as when everyone had squeezed into the escape pod back at the Penitentiary. Except Fugo didn't even have the luxury of being his own body, which made the experience infinitely more awkward.

Somehow, in the tangle of bodies, Giorno was having no problem navigating Sheila's small cruiser. Maybe he really had been trained for situations like this one. In fact, he had no problem doling out instructions as though he were on the bridge of a ship ten times larger. And he was also working on the ship's console to cloak the cruiser at the same time.

It was beyond strange to see Narancia acting even half-competent.

"Once we get onto Zero's ship, everyone will split up. Don't approach Zero, and don't approach Bruno. There's nothing we can do about either of them, so I suggest you don't try. Focus on finding Chariot Requiem as soon as possible. If you do, notify myself and Polnareff. Does everyone have a holopad?"

A scattering of yes's.

"Make sure to cloak its signal. Do not draw any unnecessary attention to yourself. Remember that Chariot Requiem is our primary objective."

Fugo couldn't help glowering at the back of Giorno's head. He enjoyed commanding people around entirely too much. It made him wonder how Giorno had managed to keep his mouth shut all that time pretending to be JoJo.

"I don't know if anyone has said this yet, but why don't you just command Zero to stop whatever he's doing?" Mista asked Giorno.

"Unfortunately it's not that easy. Zero is indirectly a very large proponent of the Imperial family. He has a hand in many of our funds and to expose him would inevitably lead to exposing the Imperial families' dealings with him. Not only that, Zero also supports many prominent Upper Space families. We would look like hypocrites. It's much easier to pin him for a crime."

"Have you considered the possibility that you might die on Zero's ship?" The question coming from Abbacchio held no malice. His voice was even, genuinely curious.

"I could have died any number of times before this," Giorno said. He tapped the console one last time. "I'm choosing to believe that if I'm still alive, the stars are giving me a chance, at least."

The stars. Fugo wanted to know what they could have to do with anything, letting the galaxy go to shit the way they did. He had never prayed to them before and he wasn't about to start now.

They docked against Zero's ship easily, seeing as Sheila's ship already had cleared access. They were practically spilling out of the ship already, but Giorno stopped everyone before they began boarding.

"I want you all to know that whatever happens, my goal is ultimately the Stand Arrow," he said, his gaze hooded. "Whatever happens to Bruno or all of you is ... secondary."

Fugo had to physically bite down on his anger.

"You might be a Prince but we don't have any particular loyalty to you," he said in a low, seething voice. "Whatever happens to you will also be secondary."

And even though it was too crowded to see everyone directly, Giorno still found a way to meet Fugo's gaze. What Fugo saw instead of the anger he had been expecting made a chill run down his spine.

Giorno smiled. A knowing, knife-sharp grin that didn't belong on Narancia's face.

"Good. I'm glad we're in agreement."

The Captain enjoyed the toffees that littered Zero's ship. They were light and fluffy, with just the perfect amount of sweetness. Their vision went blurry around the edges after a few of them, and it became so much easier to ignore the stabbing pain and blood pooling on the ground.

Zero had not moved from his seat since the Captain had stumbled onto their ship. They had barely missed a direct hit from Chariot Requiem, one that doubtless would have punched a hole clean through their middle. They threw down the Arrow in front of them and fell to their knees, coughing and gasping up bloody bile.

Chariot Requiem went smoothly to reclaim the Arrow, oblivious to its new surroundings. Zero had stood by impassively, the edges of dark robes fluttering as Chariot Requiem passed by him. He had not run after the Arrow. He had not helped the Captain to their feet. It seemed that being in such close proximity to the Arrow had frozen something in him, rendering him cold and unexpressive.

The Captain lifted their head, and Zero grimaced slightly. They didn't seem to be aware of the way their eye was melting into their cheek or the way their jaw was starting to stretch grotesquely.

"Clean yourself up," he commanded, and turned away.

Later, the Captain found Zero on the bridge. He did not look up as they entered, his gaze pinned to the surveillance footage in front of him, following Chariot Requiem's movements intently as it moved from screen to screen. The gold Arrow glinted against the chrome and metal, conspicuous everywhere it was. Despite that, Zero made no move to retrieve it.

The Captain was exhausted and in intense pain. But that did not bother them nearly as much as Zero's cold reception. They wished he would turn around. Look at them. Speak to them. Acknowledge them in some way.

"Have a taffy," he said after a while. "It will make things easier."

Thrilled, the Captain immediately took one from a nearby tray. Not long after, they slid down the wall and sat on the floor, gazing lazily at Zero as he continued to scrutinize Chariot Requiem.

Zero was neither tall nor broad nor particularly imposing. His shoulders hunched and his wrists, when they peaked out from under his robes, were thin and pale. His voice was thinner than it was over the holocalls.

But nonetheless, the Captain drank him in hungrily. Memorized his movements and his presence.

They had never been able to tell, but Zero had dark, curling hair. The Captain wished they could remove his mask so they could see what colour his eyes were. They were a little drunk, of course, of taffy, but also on the thrill of being so close to Zero.

The Captain did not know how long they sat against the wall, staring at Zero. They would have sat there forever if it was what Zero wanted. They only thought fleetingly about the Stand Arrow and whether or not Zero might want them to pursue it in some way.

Finally, Zero addressed the Captain. An electric zing went down their spine at the sound of his voice.

"Bruno, do you know why I desire the Stand Arrow?"

"No, sir." The Captain scrambled to their feet, even as blood rushed to their head.

Zero turned, the light from the screen outlining the edge of his mask. "What do you know about Requiem?"

"Requiem, sir?"

"Indeed. The ability to evolve one's Stand after it has been pierced by the Stand Arrow. It is granted immense power and imparted a consciousness of its own. The potential of such a Stand would be limitless."

Zero strode over to Bruno. Stopped a few feet away from him.

"Of course, that is the preferred outcome. I could just as well end up with a Stand like Chariot Requiem. And that would be ... disappointing."

Zero's gaze was intense, even through the mask. The Captain found they couldn't speak.

"It seems to me that the solution here is simple. We simply don't know enough about what will happen. There's not enough information. So we will have to gather more."

Zero leaned closer to the Captain. "I want you to pierce your Stand with the Arrow."

"S-sir?"

"It's the only way to figure out the Arrow's abilities for certain. My Stand's abilities are too volatile to test. But yours are simpler. If Requiem works for your Stand, it will work for mine. Do you understand?"

The Captain blinked. Something tugged on their chest, hard and insistent. "You want me to pierce my Stand with the Stand Arrow, sir?"

Zero tilted his head. Waited.

There was no reason to hesitate. It was a direct command from Zero. All there was was to do it.

I will pierce my Stand with the Stand Arrow.

I will pierce my Stand with the Stand Arrow because that is what Zero wants.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

#kismetva #jjba #jjba x reader #jjba fanfic #golden wind #golden wind x reader #vento aureo #vento aureo x reader #sci fi au #gender neutral reader

6 notes · View notes

cophene · 13 days

Text

017 | stained citizen honour.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

★ . . . YOU BANGED ON KARERA’S DOOR. “Yo, get up!” You waited a few minutes before banging again. “Hurry up! I don’t have all day!”

Karera yanked her door open, her hair a bird’s nest and drool drying on the corner of her mouth. She stared stone-faced at you, unmoved by your megawatt smile and designer outfit. You only grinned harder when Karera scowled. You felt like you had enough energy to power Morioh for a week.

“What,” Karera said dully, “the fuck. It’s seven in the morning. People call this immoral conduct, you know that?” She went to close her door but you wedged your foot in the doorframe.

“It is a perfectly acceptable hour for a beautiful day. Get dressed. We have a whole day ahead of us.”

“I actually have better things to do than watch you try to flirt.”

“But you won’t have to watch anything like that. This is a vacation and we haven’t done anything fun. I have money and energy to spend and I need someone to do it with.”

Karera really was a demon in the morning. “Go ask your sailor boy.”

“Karera,” you said seriously. “If we’re really friends, you’ll do this for me.”

“Well, damn. Guess we’re not friends.”

Your smile dropped. “It’s been an ass week. I just want a day where I don’t have to think about my curse. It’s fine if you don’t want to go, but … I just really wanted a day to ourselves.” You’d spent all of your vacation until now running around and bending over backwards for people. It would be nice to actually spend a day like a vacation. No curse. No true love. No impending death.

Just a careless heir with a never-ending fortune.

Karera’s face softened just the tiniest bit. “You should’ve just said that. Of course I’ll go with you, dumbass.”

You smiled. “I appreciate it.”

Karera closed her door. “You owe me a big-ass breakfast for waking me up before ten, though!” she called.

You pulled Karera into some place called Enjoy Café for her breakfast. While you sipped on a coffee, you watched as she went about conducting her customary restaurant looting.

With her characteristic wobbly gait, she wandered around the café, finding the free condiments near the front counter and brushing nearly all of them into the plastic bag she carried around in lieu of a handbag. She paid no mind to the dirty looks the baristas and other customers shot her, plopping down in the seat next to you with a cheerful smile.

She grabbed a slice of bread you’d ordered and cut it into strips. Then she slapped on a piece of lard, some sugar, and some soy sauce before stuffing the concoction in her mouth.

She crunched on the bread loudly. “Do you want some?” she asked with her mouth full, spraying crumbs all over the table and her lap. “I’m telling you it tastes just like sukiyaki.”

You didn’t see how a tiny piece of bread could possibly compare to the mouth-watering bowl of hot pot. “I could always get you real sukiyaki, you know.”

“Nah, something you make with your own hands always tastes better.” You shook your head as Karera licked her fingers and went about making another slice of mock-sukiyaki.

You were aware that to most people, all they saw when they looked at Karera was a slob. She came across as crude and irritating, and put herself first before anything else. She’d always been headstrong, which was what made you want to be her friend back when you’d first met her. Your parents had told you to avoid her, but you were glad you hadn’t. Karera had more honesty in her pinky finger than most people had in their whole bodies. She was always up front with you and said what you meant.

You envied Karera for her ability to live in the present. She didn’t let many things get to her. She didn’t like talking about her family or her past, so you didn’t bother her about it. Whatever had happened, she made it clear that she couldn’t care less about her family. Before this vacation, she’d flirted with the idea of becoming an agricultural student, but that had never gotten off the ground. She was smart, but being in a classroom just wasn’t for her.

She was your ride or die, Karera Sakunami. You wouldn’t trade her weird, stubborn, slobbish ass for anything.

“What’s with the stupid smile?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy.”

Karera rolled her eyes. “Alright, loser.” She wiped her hands on her shorts and stole a drink from your coffee mug. “I’ve been meaning to ask; do you have a plan for if this whole ‘true love’ thing doesn’t work out?”

“It’ll work out.”

“Yeah, I know, but still. Do you have a backup plan?”

You looked down at the brand seared onto the back of your hand. “To be honest, I don’t. I’m kind of banking everything on this trip, which I know is stupid, but I don’t see what else I can do.”

“It’s a lot of money to lose,” Karera said, picking at between her teeth with a fingernail. “You should have some kind of insurance in place.”

That might have been one of the greatest ironies about all of this. For all of the money your family had, you couldn’t use a cent of it to protect it all. Even money put into stocks, investing or bonds would be lost if you didn’t find your true love.

Honestly, you were starting to think there wasn’t much point in worrying about what would happen if you failed. It wasn’t as though you’d be around to help with anything. You'd be the best off of everyone in your family if you failed.

“My parents probably thought of something,” you said. “And anyways, if I lost everything, I’d just hit the road with you and grow hair for bald guys.”

Karera scoffed. “You wish. Even if you had Love Love Deluxe, you don’t have the charisma to pull it off.”

“I think I’d make a good pick-pocket. Maybe I’d just swipe cards and let you figure out the pins.”

“As long as they’re not from the Milo Man or whatever.”

“Milagro.”

“I still can’t believe Joshu did that to you, that asshole. You should’ve let me beat his ass.”

“He’s an asshole but he’s still Norisuke-san’s son.”

“Imagine being pregnant for nine months and giving birth to that. Speaking of which, have you heard from Norisuke’s wife?”

“No. I figured she would be coming back with the eldest brother. Jobin or whatever it was.”

Karera grinned. “I can’t wait to meet her. I bet she’s hot. Just look at Hato and Daiya.”

“You were just dissing Joshu.”

“Psh. Selective genes.”

You didn’t care what Mrs. Higashikata looked like, so long as she didn’t try to play matchmaker like her husband.

Once Karera had finished her breakfast (and raided the café for the rest of their condiments) the two of you set off to the shopping district.

Immediately outside of the café was a pair of twins dressed in red. They were showing off flashy soccer footwork, and you and Karera took a few minutes to watch with the small crowd that had gathered. They passed a soccer ball fluidly between them, so quickly and with such ease you would think the ball was connected to the two brothers with string. Not once did the ball touch the ground and the twins barely had to look at each other before passing off the ball.

“Their hair doesn’t look all that great,” Karera said, smirking. “You think they’d let me take them around back for my, ahem, services?”

You dragged Karera off. “Not a chance.”

You refused to let Karera swindle any bald people or snatch any credit cards, so she grudgingly let you pay for everything. It only seemed fair, since you’d left her to fend for herself for so long.

You drifted from boutique to boutique, getting more of a kick out of Karera’s wisecracking than the actual shopping. It was amazing the amount of stupid stuff you nearly bought because of her.

“Oh, but you have to get these,” Karera said, dangling a pair of obnoxiously huge anchor earrings by her face. “You’d match with your sailor boy.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Hardy har.”

“I don’t know why you don’t take him more seriously,” Karera said, putting the earrings back. She drifted over to a rack of headscarves. “Don’t you like him?”

You liked Josuke a lot more than you cared to admit but he’d made it clear that he wasn’t interested. You told Karera as much, but she only scoffed.

“He’s just that kind of guy. He would never be up front and admit that he likes you. You’d have to go after him yourself.”

You rubbed a pale green scarf between your fingers. “I don’t want to force him into anything.”

“What about the pink-haired girl? Yasuho?”

“We texted a little bit since last time. She wants to help, but I don’t think it’s ever crossed her mind to actually—date me? I guess?”

“Oh, you’re pitiful,” Karera sighed. She tossed a glittery pink scarf over her bandanna and studied herself in the mirror. “Don’t tell me you’re actually going to go for that guy, Tooru.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

Karera shot you a look. You stared back, genuinely not sure.

If you had to be technical about this whole thing, Tooru probably had the best prospects. Sure, you didn’t know him all that well, but more than anyone else, he seemed willing to make an effort. He was polite, courteous and didn’t completely shut down at the mention of your curse. You had a feeling that if you got to know him better, you might like him more than you already did. Tooru was refreshingly level-headed in this town where everyone was so eccentric.

“I like Tooru,” you said, a little defensively. “I wouldn’t mind getting closer to him. He could turn out to be the one, honestly.”

“But you could do so much better than him,” Karera said.

“Two weeks in Morioh begs to differ.”

“He doesn’t really seem like your type.”

“I don’t have a type.”

“I don’t know; his vibe is just weird to me. I didn’t expect you to take to him. He kinda seems like he’s studying you more than anything.”

You thought back to when you’d bumped into Tooru at the nightclub and the way his questions vaguely started to take on the form of an interrogation.

“That’s just the way he is. He likes asking questions and knowing things.”

“Mhm. Sure he does. Doesn’t he seem a little old to you? And how do you know for sure he isn’t using you for your money?”

“Geez, Karera, where’s all of this coming from?”

“I don’t want you to waste all of your time on someone who’ll screw you over,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Tooru won’t screw me over. I just need to get to know him better.” Besides, he wasn’t your be-all-end-all. You still had two weeks left. One week before you had to drag anyone in front of your mom.

The brand on your hand seemed to prickle just then. You scratched absently at it. You had already forgotten what your hand looked like without it.

“If only this curse stuff wasn't so hard,” you muttered, leaning on your arm while you watched Karera knot the scarf under her chin. “I would just fall in love with you and be done with it.”

Karera froze. Her eyes widened when she looked at you. The pink colour suited her, you thought.

“I mean, it’d be easy enough, wouldn’t it?”

Colour abruptly rose in Karera’s cheeks. She tore the scarf off of her head and flung it onto the ground.

“Don’t say shit like that,” she snapped.

“What? I was just joking. Am I that bad?”

“It’s insulting. I don’t know why you’d say something like that.”

“Insulting to who? I’m giving you a compliment. I’m saying I’d rather fall in love with you than some schmuck from Morioh.”

Karera stared at you. “Are you being serious right now?”

“What are you so upset about? I said it was a joke. Damn.”

Karera threw up her hands with an incredulous laugh. She stormed out of the boutique while you stared after her, confused.

What had you said? All you’d meant was that it would be a hell of a lot easier to fall in love with Karera than with any of these strangers in Morioh. There were some times where you could be convinced that you were halfway there already.

You scooped up the scarf and paid for it before darting outside after Karera. Outside, you tried to spot her bandanna in the crowd. You spent a few minutes walking around fruitlessly, calling and texting her a few times. Karera didn’t answer, and you resigned yourself to the fact that you would be suffering her cold shoulder for the next however many days.

You wandered into, of all places, the Higashikata Fruit Parlour in your dejected state. Maybe getting another melon parfait would lighten your mood. You could sit creepily in a booth and see if Norisuke’s claim about cute girls frequenting the restaurant were true.

Just as you ambled toward the elevator, you heard a voice that gave you pause. You turned your head, and sure enough, Josuke was over by the corner, chatting with a lady about mandarin oranges. He caught your gaze and smiled, waving a little.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” you asked when he came up to you.

“I’m on break,” he replied easily. “What are you up to all by yourself?”

“I was with Karera until I said something stupid and pissed her off. I tried looking for her but no luck.”

Josuke scratched his head under his pink kerchief. “Ah, that sucks. I could help look for her if you want. I still have twenty minutes left.”

“Nah. It’s better to leave Karera alone when she gets like this. I’d probably just piss her off more.”

You and Josuke stepped out to the sandwich shop across the street for lunch. He asked you a few cursory questions about how your true love search was going and seemed equal parts amazed and horrified at the Milagro Man incident. You found it cute how he kept telling you how sorry he was about it, even though he hadn’t been there and was in no way responsible for it.

“Joshu aside, is there anyone else you’ve been interested in?” You noticed Josuke’s ears go pink as he asked this. You were tempted to say his name, just to tease him, but didn’t want to get him upset.

“Tooru’s pretty nice. I’ve been thinking about meeting with him again.”

“Right. The guy you met up with a Shakedown Road.” Josuke pursed his lips. “What’s he like?”

“He’s a great listener. And he hasn’t gotten me killed yet, so that’s nice.”

Josuke didn’t laugh. “How did he react to the curse?”

“He took it pretty well. Didn’t seem too concerned by it. Out of everyone I’ve met so far, he’s probably the top contender.”

Josuke crumpled the paper wrapping his sandwich. “You said you had to fall in love for the curse to be lifted, right? To save your family’s fortune?”

“That’s the plan.”

Josuke opened his mouth but then changed his mind. You could guess what he was thinking, though.

“You don’t like Tooru?”

“I don’t even know the guy.” Josuke smiled, but his two-toned eyes were skeptical. “It’s just that … he’s not who I thought you would go for.”

“And who do you think I would go for?”

“I don’t know. Someone—someone who’s—” Josuke shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain.”

You wanted to know. Both Josuke and Karera had said the same thing about Tooru, and it seemed too important to be a coincidence.

Besides, it might have been wishful thinking, but a part of you wanted to know if Josuke considered himself someone you would go for.

“Come on. I won’t judge. I swear.”

Josuke looked at you, his eyebrows drawn together. All of a sudden, he burst out laughing and you didn’t know whether to be offended or not.

“Forget it. I don’t even know where I was going with that. Tooru seems like a great guy. With luck, he’ll be the one you’ve been looking for.”

You felt disappointed, but did your best to hide it. “Say, you feel like rolling my dice again?”

“Because it went so well last time?”

“Nothing’s going to happen if I don’t set a task. I want to know if you can still roll a nine.”

Josuke took the bone dice from your hand, his fingers brushing yours. He gave them a small shake, then dropped them gently on the table.

Your eyes bulged. You would’ve counted just to make sure, only it was pretty undeniable with five pips on each die.

Josuke peered at the dice. “ . . . Is that a good thing?”

Josuke’s number had gone up. It was a good thing, except that you hadn’t been expecting it.

I feel like only your true love would be able to roll a twelve.

“That’s impressive,” you said airily. “You must really be trustworthy.”

Josuke grinned his gap-toothed grin at you and your heart skipped a beat. If only he weren’t so nice. You wouldn’t have minded shooting your shot with him, but you didn’t think you could handle making things awkward between the two of you.

“I meant to ask, but did you ever get around to trying beef tongue pickled in miso? Seems like everyone does that on the first day, but you’ve been pretty busy.”

“No, I haven’t actually. If I hadn't pissed off Karera, we might’ve gone later.”

“We can’t have that.” Josuke actually looked horrified. “I have to get off work early. We’re going to find Karera and then I’m taking you to try some beef tongue. It’s a crime that you’ve gone this long without trying it already. And here I am calling myself your tour guide.”

You waved a hand. “Don’t, that’s a terrible reason to take the day off. You’re going to make me feel guilty for making you go through so much trouble.”

“No, I can’t just let something like this go. It stains my honour as a citizen of Morioh. Wait for me outside; I’ll be right out.”

Josuke wasn’t going to let this go. It was the most assertive you’d ever seen him and you had to admit you liked it. You obediently waited outside of the fruit parlour as Josuke rushed up to the second floor to obtain leave for his “urgent emergency.” He appeared outside not five minutes later, back in his white sailor’s outfit and pulling his cap over his head.

“I know she’s mad at you but maybe she’ll be willing to talk to me,” he said quickly, pulling out his phone. You’d forgotten that he and Karera had each other on speed dial. While he waited for his call to go through, you readjusted his cap, noticing how it was crooked.

Thank you, he mouthed, and you smiled a little.

“She’s not answering,” he said after the call went twice to voicemail. He put a hand over his eyes and made a show of scanning the street. “Where do you think she could have gone?”

“I have no idea. There isn’t anyone who can find her when she doesn’t want to be—”

“Is that her over there?” Josuke pointed somewhere down the shopping district and immediately started going in that direction. You followed after him, wondering how lucky Josuke had to be.

It only took you a second to pick out Karera’s wobbly gait from the crowd. You nearly called out to her, but something gave you pause as she rounded the corner, glancing furtively both ways before crossing the street. Following closely behind her were the soccer twins from earlier. For a second, you thought maybe she was going to swindle them, but it didn’t seem like she knew they were behind her. The area she was entering was a lot quieter, more residential buildings and apartments. What would Karera be doing down here?

You shared a look with Josuke. The good humour had leaked from his face, leaving only a grim frown.

The two of you continued to follow behind the twins and Karera. Your entire body was tense, not sure about what could happen but anxious nonetheless. One of the twins had the soccer ball tucked under his arm. The ludicrous image of it being bashed over Karera’s head suddenly flashed in your mind’s eye.

Josuke slowed down as Karera and the twins passed by the line of cars parked along the pavement. You were about to call her name, but Josuke raised his hand slightly, telling you to wait.

Without warning, one of the twins hooked his arm around Karera’s neck. Her scream was cut short as she fell heavily to the ground, the twin’s hand coming up to muffle her mouth. Josuke tried to stop you but you were already rushing forward, your heart in your throat.

“Hey, asshole! Get your hands off of her!”

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

#okoshijjl #jjba #jjba x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jojolion #jojolion x reader #gender neutral reader

4 notes · View notes

cophene · 14 days

Note

you're such an icon <3

i try 😌

#pacespeaks #bebegi #you gotta do what you gotta do

2 notes · View notes

cophene · 15 days

Text

pairing : p. fugo x gn reader summary : after finding a pensive, choleric ghost, a sales clerk must do everything in their power to help him cross over. but that becomes unfairly difficult when it's so easy to forget that he's already dead. genre : historical, drama, romance notes : multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn’t follow canon plot story : cophene jjba : hirohiko araki tag : #liberava status : ongoing

wattpad link || ao3 link

table of contents :

i. dizziness.

ii. sandwich.

iii. neighbour.

#liberava #jjba #jjba x reader #golden wind #vento aureo #pannacotta fugo #jjba fugo #fugo x reader #gender neutral reader

4 notes · View notes

cophene · 15 days

Text

i. dizziness.

next chapter || table of contents

⊱ YOU DREADED THE DIZZINESS. You experienced it the way other people experienced migraines. A bout would come on suddenly and all at once, rendering you disoriented and nauseous. Sometimes you would be able to grit your teeth through it, so long as you concentrated on something stationary. But the worst ones made the ground lurch and stole your balance. Now you were thought of as clumsy and ungainly because you couldn't explain the dizziness to anyone.

You had gone to doctors. When they couldn't prescribe anything that worked, you went to the roughened grandmothers and then the illicit alleyways. Nothing worked. You couldn't get rid of the dizziness any more than you could change the nose on your face. It was a part of you. You knew that, but you had to try anyway.

Your dizziness had a bit of a psychic element to it, although telling that to anyone just made things worse. In some ridiculous, backwards way, it could warn you of danger, or else just general unpleasantry. When you were lost, you would get incredibly dizzy until you found the right street again. When the butcher tried to sell you last week cuts instead of new ones, your dizziness always let you know. And you always knew when a mean client was coming by the flash of dizziness that occurred before you saw them.

The dizziness was horrible, but it did have its merits. You just wished it could have taken some other form, like an itch on your nose or a prickle in your scalp.

Today though, a wave of dizziness broke so abruptly over you that you nearly crashed into the brick wall of a corner store. You caught your balance against the wall, fingers digging into the rough brick. You screwed your eyes shut to keep the pavement from lurching up at you. It felt like your brain was sloshing around in your skull and would spill from your ears if you kept moving. Suddenly, the ground slipped out from beneath you and you fell heavily. Your messenger bag broke your fall, but not before you heard something crack inside.

You hissed out a swear. The street swayed when you opened your eyes, so you closed them, trying to keep your breaths even. You didn't know how long you sat there, waiting for it to pass. Praying for it to pass. This couldn't be happening here. This couldn't be happening now. Nothing was ready. You were barely on your feet. The whole thing would go belly up before it started.

Eventually, your vision stabilized enough that you could read the sign across the street. Your head was still strangely fluid, but you forced yourself to your feet, pressing a hand against the brick wall to steady yourself. It was lucky that everyone on the street was too caught up in the post-work dash for home to notice your fall.

You flipped open your messenger bag to peek inside, wincing at what you saw. No time to dwell on that. You drew in a deep breath and stepped away from the corner store. You tried to continue down the street the way you'd been going, then immediately had to turn around. The dizziness got so much worse in that direction. Of course, it wouldn't be anywhere near your apartment.

You started to walk. Not exactly decisively, but with purpose. You were aware that you were walking in the opposite direction compared to most people, but you tried not to let that deter you. You clenched the strap of your messenger bag between both hands, your dizziness lessening with every step you took. You hated it. Why today of all days? You had so much to do; a mountain of unfinished correspondence on your desk and errands besides. There had been so many other optimal days when you had been stronger, more stable, less tired.

Where are they going to make me go? How far will I have to walk?

You hesitated at an intersection, not sure where to go. They could be anywhere. Someone's backyard. A restaurant. A balcony. Your great-uncle had nearly broken his neck climbing a fire escape. You'd be lucky if yours was even half as easy.

Left, your dizziness told you, and so you turned. If you continued down this way, there was nothing but warehouses and open fields. The workmen leaving for home eyed you suspiciously as you passed. The light was starting to disappear from the sky. Hopefully, you would be back before the streetlamps came on.

It would have been more fitting to continue straight on until you reached the cemetery. Although you realized that was a bit convenient. Still, it would've been nice. Nice as any of this could get, anyway.

You tried not to think too much about it. Once you started thinking, there would be questions that wouldn't have answers and worries that would go unassuaged. It would be easier if you just took things as they came. Deal with what was in front of you and nothing else.

The dizziness was getting better. You paused in a little alley between two warehouses. You were close. They would be around here somewhere.

You felt an inexplicable urge to check your appearance. Were your clothes rumpled? How did you smell? You discreetly sniffed your underarm, then cursed yourself. You were being a yuck. Who did you have to impress? Your only job was to get this over with. Worrying about your appearance was a waste of time and energy.

Beyond the warehouses was a chain link fence enclosing a field of grass. The town meant to build a school here. Or maybe it was another apartment complex, you couldn't remember.

Looking over your shoulder revealed there was no one nearby. You dumped your messenger bag on the ground, then wedged your shoe into one of the gaps of the fence. It was old and falling apart; there were gaps galore. The fence rattled loudly as you hauled yourself over the fence and dropped onto the other side. The light faded over tall, yellowing grass. It was unearthly quiet.

"Hello?" you called. "Is anyone here?"

You felt stupid. You were obviously the only one here. But your head felt blessedly clear. They had to be here.

"Hello?" you called again. "I'm not gonna hurt you! Just come on out!"

Silence. It pressed down on your ears and shoulders like a weight. You were getting nervous being out here. Why couldn't they just show themselves? You didn't have all day.

You waded out farther into the field. You didn't know what you were looking for; it was different for everybody. All you knew was that you would know. Some instinct would awaken and it would be clear. You just had to find them.

Your eyes were combing through the grass so hard that you nearly stumbled right over them. You caught yourself just in time, your heart leaping into your throat. You cursed yourself again, then crouched to get a better look.

A dusty fedora that must have been green at some point covered his face, matching his suit jacket and trousers. He was slender, one arm pillowing his head while the other rested on his stomach. In the middle of a goddamn nap, it looked like.

He wasn't quite solid however. He reminded you of those Impressionist paintings. Blurred around the edges. Softly wavering.

You waited for him to stir. When he didn't, you reached out tentatively to touch his shoulder. That was stupid, of course. Your hand passed right through, and it was like you'd plunged it into a bucket of ice water. You snatched it back.

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

No reaction. "Wake up. Come on, now."

He started. You sat back on your heels, watching as he lifted his arm and removed the fedora from his face. The first thing you noticed were his eyes. They were a heart-wrenching shade of violet. A tragic violet, like the light that tried to linger when twilight arrived.

He must have been around your age. A pensive mouth. Sharp jaw. Dark blonde hair that fell into his eyes. Finely handsome in the way those men in illustrated advertisements were. You stared too long but couldn't bring yourself to stop.

He looked like he had been about to smile but stopped himself. A tight look of consternation overtook his features.

"Who are you?" he rasped. He turned his head to look around. "Where am I?"

You told him the name of the town but that didn't seem to mean anything to him. He raised himself up on his elbows, frowning at the sea of dying grass.

"Who are you?" he asked again. "How did I get here?"

You didn't know how to tell him that, so you said nothing. He made to get up, but only then seemed to notice his hands. He raised one to his face, flipped it over. Then he quickly brought up his other hand.

"What's wrong with me? Why am I ....?"

He looked down at the rest of his body. All at once, he leapt to his feet, patting himself down wildly. He turned this way and that and again raised his hands to his face.

"What's wrong with me?!" he shouted. "Why do I look like this?"

You didn't know what you felt. Perhaps it was pity. It was easy enough for you to sit here, but for him it must have been—

"You're a ghost," you said bluntly. Tact had never been your strong suit. "You've passed away and now only your spirit is left."

For a second, it didn't seem like he'd heard you. He looked at his hands one last time, then dropped them to his sides.

"What do you mean? How is that even possible? Who are you? Did you do this to me?"

His voice was rising with every word. A manic light entered his eyes and you didn't like it.

"Calm down," you said. "I didn't do anything to you. I got thrown into this, the same way you did." You told him your name but you weren't sure if he heard you. He was trying to maintain his composure, his eyes closed as his shoulders rose and fell quickly. You didn't know what to do and felt like an idiot. You had to take control. You were the living one, not him.

"What's your name?" you asked. You might as well start there.

He screwed up his face. "I don't ... I don't remember."

You felt a pang in your chest. He must have been very far gone then.

"Try to remember."

He looked off somewhere beyond your shoulder, his lips parted. He murmured something silently to himself, as though testing to see if it seemed right.

"Fugo," he said. "I think—no, my name is Fugo."

You nodded. "Alright. We can go from there." That was all you could say though. A starburst of pain exploded from your chest, forcing you to double over. Fugo let out a gasp.

You clamped a hand over your chest, willing the pain to subside. You had forgotten about this. The bond. The link. Whatever you wanted to call it. The inextricable tether that would connect you and Fugo until you found some way to help him pass over.

The pain passed. You looked up at Fugo, suddenly struck by how young he seemed. The hair in his eyes was boyishly dishevelled. His expression was vulnerable. Lost. Maybe he would cry. You didn't know what you would do if he did.

"This isn't real. I can't be dead. It's just a dream. It's not possible—" Fugo rubbed his eyes with his hands as though that would do anything. He kept them there for a second and blew out a breath. You knew you should try to be more sympathetic, but it was late and you were tired. The field was starting to grow dark.

"It's not a dream," you said firmly. Then, "I'm sorry. I know this is a lot to take in. I want to help you. Can I ask you to listen to me?"

"Did you do this to me?" Fugo asked suddenly, and it caught you off guard. Your hackles raised.

"Are you asking if I killed you? Why would I be here right now if I had?"

"What else am I supposed to think? How could you find me here in the middle of nowhere? How can you see me if I'm a ghost?"

You set your jaw. "That pain you felt just now. That was our tether. You and I are bound, whether you like it or not."

"Bound?"

"I have to help you pass over or—"

"Pass over where?" Fugo asked intensely. "To purgatory? Hell?"

You blinked. "You're not going to hell. I just meant the afterlife."

Fugo scoffed. "There is no afterlife. This—" he waved an arm over himself "—must be some form of my personal hell. If I really am dead." Fugo raked a hand through his hair. He scoffed again, moving away from you. His shoes left no imprints in the grass.

You got to your feet. It seemed like Fugo, in particular, was terribly choleric. The best approach would be to give him space and let him take things at his own pace. You just wished he'd be more compliant. The last thing you wanted to do was stand in this field in the dark.

"What do you mean by 'cross over'?" Fugo didn't turn around as he said this. You stared at the back of his head, the way his blonde hair stuck up near the nape of his neck and how his suit jacket stretched across his shoulders.

"Ghosts linger because they need closure. Do you remember anything about yourself? Your life before you died?" Fugo didn't say anything and you continued. "That's the first order of business. For you to remember your life. How you died. Then I help you with whatever it is you need to get closure. There's something out there keeping you from moving on."

"Why you? We don't know each other, do we?" Fugo asked.

You swallowed. The best answer you could give was, "My family has a history with ghosts. We're haunted by more of them than most."

Fugo clenched his fists. He was looking beyond the field, beyond the chain link fence. He could run, but you would know where he was. The tether between the two of you made you keenly aware of his presence.

"I'm dead," he said flatly.

"You're dead," you affirmed.

Fugo rubbed a hand over his jaw, turning to you. "I don't feel dead, though. I just feel ... a little hollow. Although, maybe I've always felt that way."

He looked at you, his eyes darting from your face to your clothes. You held your breath despite yourself. Indeed, Fugo didn't look dead. If you only glanced at him, he could be alive as anyone. But it was that wavering temporariness to him. Like mirages that disappeared when you blinked.

You wished he would disappear. It would make things so much easier.

"Alright," Fugo sighed, grimly resigned. "What do we have to do?"

next chapter || table of contents

#liberava #jjba #jjba x reader #jjba fanfic #golden wind #golden wind x reader #vento aureo #vento aureo x reader #pannacotta fugo #jjba fugo #fugo x reader #gender neutral reader

11 notes · View notes

cophene · 18 days

Text

038 || ☆ ⁺ « A COLD BLEAK UNDERSTANDING.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

★˚⋆ THE CAPTAIN STALKED THROUGH THE ship like a bot programmed with a singular command. Except that this was not the Captain. It was not their body or their mind or their resolve that powered this vessel. Really, it was a fluke of perverted willpower.

But for convenience’s sake, this was called Captain.

Their mouth was set in a grim line; their blue eyes flat and cold. Their movements were mechanical, a human without any of the animation.

Their only focus was to find Silver Chariot Requiem—or more specifically, the Stand Arrow it was currently guarding. They had no plans on how to achieve that. They would simply do whatever was in their power to get it once the Arrow was in front of them.

They passed by a girl with acid-green eyes. She was currently restraining someone, her slight frame belying her strength. It was impressive, given the amount of yelling and struggling going on from the other person.

The Captain felt the barest spark at the sight. Not at the person being restrained, but at Sheila. The Captain registered them as an ally. Zero would want them to use their allies.

“Sheila,” the Captain said. “I want you to come with me.”

Sheila’s head whipped towards you, her braids flying. “I don’t take orders from you,” she spat.

A surge of white-hot anger. The Captain’s arm shot out, slamming Sheila into the wall. Sheila was so startled, she let go of the other crewmember. They scrambled away, heaving in breaths.

“What happened in there?” they asked. “What did you tell Zero?”

The Captain looked at them. Another kernel of knowledge thudded against their brain.

This was Bruno. Bruno, who didn’t look or sound like himself. They were aware of an absence in their chest that hadn’t been there before. A space where empathy and caring should have been. Right now, all the Captain felt was a cold sense of detachment.

They ignored him. To Sheila, they said, “I have direct orders from Zero. You will follow my instructions and help me retrieve the Stand Arrow.”

“Yeah, right,” Sheila scoffed, but the Captain’s hand pressing down on her throat cut off her next words.

“I don’t have time to waste. Either help me, or I will kill you right now.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Bruno said. He grabbed their shoulder, but they threw him off, shooting him such a lethal glare he was momentarily speechless.

“Don’t touch me,” the Captain seethed. “Stay out of my way.”

“I don’t understand—” There was no time to react. The Captain punched him under the jaw, snapping his head back. He made impact with the wall behind him, smashing his temple and sliding to the floor. Blood trickled out from his hairline.

“Are you coming with me or not?” the Captain snapped at Sheila. The girl could only nod dumbly, glancing at Bruno before falling into step behind the Captain.

“Wait. Where are you going?” Bruno asked, his voice barely there.

The Captain ignored him.

They headed straight to the barracks. Chariot Requiem had been down there the last time they’d checked. Disappointingly, the Stand was not there. There was only someone pounding on their door, demanding to be let out. The Captain was about to ignore it and continue on, but Sheila stopped them.

“They might know where the Stand is,” she said.

The Captain grunted. They looked up and down the corridor, then stepped forward to unlock the door.

“Where is Chariot Requiem?” they asked without preamble. The person on the other side of the door spluttered.

“Bruno, what happened?” This one would be Giorno, the Captain dimly recalled. One of his eyes was bloodshot. Both of them widened when he saw Sheila. “Who is that?”

“Where is Chariot Requiem?” the Captain repeated, more sharply this time. Giorno’s eyes hardened at the tone. He studied the Captain intently and seemed to find something lacking.

“You’re … not Bruno,” he said flatly.

The Captain flung him aside, pushing open the door.

“Search his room,” they commanded Sheila. “I need a flacking elector.”

Giorno’s hands clenched as Sheila ransacked his room. He stared at who he thought was Bruno, noting the vacant gaze and upright posture.

“Why do you want to find Chariot Requiem?” he asked.

“The Stand Arrow belongs to Zero, and so I am delivering it to him,” the Captain answered.

Giorno’s eyes narrowed. “It never belonged to him.”

The Captain didn’t see the fist Giorno was making with his hands. He lunged, catching the Captain hard in the stomach. The force was doubled by his Stand, and the Captain stumbled backwards, all of the air forced out of them.

They tried to move forward but were unable to. Everything seemed both too fast and too slow at the same time. They felt their surroundings bending around them and had to close their eyes.

Giorno had used his Stand on the Captain. Their senses felt painfully supercharged, but they were smart enough to remain where they were and not try anything.

“Who are you?” Giorno demanded, his voice steely. The Captain sensed more than saw Giorno winding up for another attack. They flinched, but Giorno suddenly seized in midair, his eyes sliding shut as he fell to the floor in a heap.

“Found an elector,” Sheila said, blowing on the muzzle. “Just wanted to make sure it was loaded.”

The Captain took a moment to reorient themself, letting Gold Experience’s abilities slide over them like water. Sheila helped them to their feet and passed over the elector. Together, they stepped over Giorno’s body and went to the engine room.

The air seemed to tighten when the closer they got to Chariot Requiem. The Captain found it hard to breathe, but that could’ve just been their anticipation getting the better of them.

Their fingers ached to close around the Arrow. It wouldn’t matter what happened so long as they had it.

“Bruno, what are you doing? You’re going to bump straight into Chariot Requiem!”

A hand grabbed the Captain’s sleeve. They shook it off, growling with irritation. Why did everyone want to touch them all of a sudden?

Mista blinked at them, startled. Except this wasn’t Mista. It was Trish’s wide-eyed expression staring at them.

“I thought you said you restrained them,” the Captain said to Sheila.

“Looks like he needs more than a punch, then.”

“Evidently.” Without hesitation, the Captain lined the elector up with Trish’s head and fired a blast. She crumpled to the floor. The elector was currently set to stun, but it was unlikely the Captain would have cared either way. The detachment yawned like a gaping pit.

“Prepare the docking bridge for Zero,” they told Sheila. “Make sure it's ready for when I have the Arrow.” She nodded curtly and was gone.

The Stand had ceased its restless pacing and now stood still outside the door of the engine room. It both reflected and absorbed all of the light around it.The Arrow rested on its shoulder like a soldier’s gun at ease. Its brimmed hat tilted slightly as the Captain approached.

The Captain’s fingers twitched. Grab the Arrow and run. That would be easiest. So long as they were close to the docking bridge, the Arrow’s absent pacing would inevitably lead it to Zero.

The Captain felt a remarkable lack of self-preservation. They were not afraid of any harm that might come their way. Only of the disappointment Zero would feel if they failed.

The reached out a hand—

—but someone else was faster. The Captain only saw a blur before they were aware of someone hooking them around the torso and tackling them to the ground.

Their skull smacked painfully against the ground. They struggled to their feet, but someone was pinning them down, maneuvering the Captain until they were on their stomach with their arms locked behind them.

“What the hell are you doing?”

The venom in the voice was lost on the Captain. They bucked up their legs, trying to get their feet under them. They cried out as a sharp pressure kept them in place.

“I asked you what you were doing.”

The voice was Fugo’s, but the ruthless efficiency was all Abbacchio. The GA refused to give the Captain even the slightest bit of leeway.

“I’m doing the job we were paid for,” the Captain ground out.

“You weren’t even hired for the job,” Abbacchio countered. “Just what the hell were you thinking, lunging at the Arrow like that? You know what happened last time.”

The Captain wanted to lash out. The Arrow was right there! But there was enough left in them to recognize that they would save time and effort by playing along. They forced their body to go limp.

“You’re right. I got hasty and forgot myself. Thanks for saving me.”

The words were stiff, but it was enough to give Abbacchio pause. The moment of hesitation was all the Captain needed.

Their Stand had never thrown a punch before, but it did now, and weak though it was, Abbacchio was taken off guard and lurched back from the impact. In one smooth movement, they fired a stunning blast at Abbacchio, then leapt forward and snatched the Arrow from Chariot Requiem.

The Stand turned, but by then, the Captain was already running. The Captain ran back in the direction they had come, through the galley and then down to the bay area. Their thoughts were a scrambled, manic blur. Sheila had to be there. If she wasn’t, the Captain would kill her. She had to be, she had to be. Zero was only a few meters away. Just a scant distance.

They barely got to the bay before a limb struck out, sending them sprawling to the ground.

They landed badly. Their nose crunched against the ground and a riot of pain shot up their shoulder. They scrambled up like a frantic beast, oblivious to everything but the Arrow.

They screamed at Sheila, “Open the—” One of their Stand’s own hands wrapped around the Captain’s throat. Their Stand appeared behind them, dragging them back toward Chariot Requiem.

Stupidly, Sheila grabbed one of the Captain’s legs, trying to pull in the opposite direction. She might have been strong, but a Stand’s strength still outmatched any human.

“S-Stand!” the Captain shrieked. They couldn’t get an entire sentence out.

“I can’t!” Sheila’s face was growing red with the effort. “My Stand isn’t a power type!”

Then what good is it for?

The Captain thrashed wildly. Their Stand’s grip was unrelenting, an iron vice around their neck. They struggled so hard that they heard a distinct snap! and for a second, they couldn’t tell if that had been an arm or a leg or their neck.

They couldn’t die before the Arrow got to Zero. Nothing in the galaxy had the power to take theirnlife except Zero.

Their Stand’s grip loosened, then disappeared entirely. The Captain collapsed onto the ground, taking in great lungfuls of air. They cast about for the Arrow, having heard it clatter somewhere behind them.

“Bruno, what are you doing?”

If the Captain heard that question one more time, they would scream. What about this was so confusing to everyone? The Stand Arrow had to be delivered to Zero and the Captain was trying to do that. What about that needed to be questioned?

“Where is the Stand Arrow?” they said. “Where is it?”

“Dude, would you calm down? Your nose is bleeding.”

The Captain swept a hand across their face, flicking droplets of blood onto the floor.

The console by the docking bridge was blinking. Sheila rushed to it, her face lit by its display.

“Zero’s here,” she said. “He’s docking his ship now.”

“Zero?” Mista in Trish’s body spun to face the Captain. “Okay, what the hell is going on right now? Why the hell are you trying to get the Arrow from Chariot Requiem? And what is she doing on the ship?”

“You were the one to let me on,” she said blandly, tapping on the console.

“Yeah, after you beat my head in. Why aren’t you shooting at her, Bruno?” Mista was searching his person for an elector.

“Move aside,” the Captain said. “You’re blocking the Arrow.”

Mista looked up. “What are you trying to get it for? I thought we agreed to just let Chariot Requiem wander its way onto Zero’s ship by itself.”

“Plans have changed. That will take too long. I’ll take it to him myself.”

“Are you sure? Where’s the Captain? Did they agree to this?”

The Captain wanted to shoot Mista. But again, something nagged at them internally, preventing them from doing so. All they could do was withdraw their elector and point it at his head.

“Move aside. Now.”

Something changed in Mista’s face. Either he finally realized this wasn’t Bruno he was talking to, or he realized he wouldn’t be able to change this person’s mind.

“You want Zero to get the Arrow, don’t you?” Sheila piped up. “That’s what you were paid for, right?”

“Well, yeah, but…” Mista glanced back at Chariot Requiem. “I don’t know, something about this feels wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong,” the Captain said flippantly. “I’m doing what is expected.”

“But why—”

The Captain lost their patience. They slammed the butt of the elector down on Mista’s nose and pushed him out of the way.

Mista swore and stumbled back, one hand clamping over his nose and the other reaching for his elector.

“Okay, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but something obviously is. No one is getting close to the Arrow until I get word from the Captain.”

The Captain advanced forward, stopping only when Mista fired an elector blast at their heels.

“Don’t move another inch.”

“Sheila,” the Captain began, prompting Mista to shoot at Sheila’s head and knock her out. His speed caught the Captain off guard.

“I don’t know what you’re talking to her for,” Mista snapped. “She’s not even on our side. I should kill her right now. Not even sure how she got past us,” he muttered to himself.

“She was a spy for Zero,” the Captain felt compelled to say. “She was sent here because we've been dawdling for too long. Zero is here and he wants the Arrow. I don’t know what you’re waiting for.”

“Just let him go, Mista,” said a voice from behind them. “There’s no use stopping him.”

And here was the last bit of resistance. Fugo, his scowl even more pronounced on Abbacchio’s features.

Except that wasn’t resistance. Even the Captain was surprised at his words.

“Are you serious?” Mista said, lowering his elector. “You’re just going to let Bruno take the Arrow? I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but he doesn’t seem to realize that Chariot Requiem is going to tear him apart before he makes it to Zero’s ship.”

“He realizes that fully,” Fugo said. “He’s willing to do it anyway.”

Mista looked between Fugo and the Captain. “Am I missing something here?”

When Fugo looked at the Captain, there was no sympathy in his gaze. Only a cold, bleak kind of understanding.

“He’s under Zero’s control. There’s nothing we can say or do to deter him.”

“Zero’s control—what? How is that possible?”

Fugo said, “We needed the Stand Arrow to get to Zero. This is one way to do it. If Bruno wants to go, let him.”

Finally. Someone who understood. The Captain almost smiled.

“Are you out of your mind? We’re not going to just let Bruno—”

“Open the docking bridge,” the Captain commanded Fugo. “I’ll run across with the Arrow. The minute Chariot Requiem crosses the threshold, close the bridge. I’ll get this over and done with.”

Fugo did as he was told. The entire time, Mista gaped at him.

“What is going on right now? I’m tempted to start shooting right now if—”

The Captain fired at Mista point-blank. Fierce betrayal flashed across his face before he collapsed, his elector clattering to the ground.

“Was that really necessary?” Fugo growled.

The Captain slid their elector in their pocket. They wouldn’t be needing it now that everyone had been dealt with.

“What do you expect us to do after you’re gone? What are we going to do with Sheila?”

“That is none of my concern.”

Chariot Requiem had wandered halfway out of the bay. The Captain eyed the distance between it and the bridge, mentally calculating.

“Will Zero release his hold on you? Once all of this is over?”

The Captain looked up sharply at that. The words didn’t compute in their mind. Zero, hold, over—the words churned together into useless mush.

“I don’t understand.”

Fugo’s jaw clenched. “You have no idea what’s happening to you, do you?”

The Captain stared hard at Mista. “Nothing is happening to me.”

“I’m not going to try to reason with you. Whatever happened to you, it’s obvious you’re too far gone.”

The Captain didn’t hear the tailend of Fugo’s sentence. They were wholly focused on Chariot Requiem and its slow steps toward the docking bridge. The closer it got, the less damage the Captain would have to sustain getting it onto Zero’s ship.

“I just can’t believe he would do this to you. And more than that, I just can’t believe that you would let him. You always made it out like you were stronger than him but this entire time, you were caving in to him. Forcing us to cave in to him. You’ve been acting like a selfish bastard and you can’t even see it. You can’t even hear what I’m saying to you right now.”

Indeed, the words were like stones pinging off of a wall. The Captain’s blank, listless expression was like pouring hot water over coals.

“I don’t want to save you, you know!” Fugo shouted suddenly, blood rushing to his face. “If it were up to me, I’d let you run to Zero and die on his flacking ship. Why should I risk my life for you when you’re not even in your right mind right now? You claim to want what’s best for us, but all you’ve been doing is jeopardizing our lives! You don’t care a lick about us! All you care about is your twisted ego!”

Fugo’s voice cracked. He swiped away hot, angry tears, taking in ragged breaths to try and keep his composure. All the while, the Captain drew closer to Chariot Requiem, blind and deaf to all else.

“But I can’t just leave you,” Fugo whispered. “Because you weren’t always like this. And the times you did care about us outweigh the times you didn’t.”

There was a rush of air and heavy footsteps as the Captain once again grabbed the Arrow and ran for the docking bridge. Fugo watched from his periphery as Chariot Requiem looked up, then turned its heavy gait toward the docking bridge.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of pain that escaped the Captain, shutting the docking bridge over the sound.

No one heard his next words but himself.

“What happened, Captain?”

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

#kismetva #jjba #jjba x reader #jjba fanfic #golden wind #golden wind x reader #vento aureo #vento aureo x reader #gender neutral reader #sci fi au

5 notes · View notes

cophene · 20 days

Text

016 | milagro man's bills.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

★ . . . THE TRIO OF MEN CARRYING Joshu didn’t even notice you following behind them. The music and din of the nightclub receded into a low thrum as the men hauled Joshu out into the foyer. Once there, they dropped him unceremoniously on the ground and Joshu groaned loudly. Two of the goons stepped back, folding their arms in front of them. The third man, who you realized belatedly was the nightclub’s owner, looked down in distaste at Joshu.

“I’m sorry, but what’s going on?” you said.

The owner glanced at you, his jaw tightening.

“Nothing!” Joshu shouted, scrambling to his feet. “Unless playing around with girls is a crime.”

One of the guys thrust a piece of paper into Joshu’s face. He took it with a scowl, scanning it quickly. His eyes widened and you grabbed it from him. The numbers made your stomach drop.

450 000 yen.

“There was real gold in that champagne?” Joshu exclaimed. “You didn’t tell me that!”

“You would’ve heard if you hadn’t been throwing peanuts down someone’s cleavage,” you sniped. You read over the rest of the bill—peanuts, mineral water, service, not one bottle of champagne but ten. Anyone would have staggered at the amount, but the owner shouldn’t have had anything to complain about. It said Joshu had already paid the amount in full.

“Where did you get this money, sir?” the owner asked tightly. He extended a small tray, where all of Joshu’s banknotes were neatly piled.

Sweat beaded on Joshu’s face. “You should have stopped me before I bought fucking ten bottles of that champagne” Joshu muttered to you. To the owner, he said, “I should have paid you enough. I’m pretty sure I did.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” the owner said, the tray of money still extended. “What I’m asking is where you got this money from.”

Joshu’s tone turned prickly. “Where? Why do I gotta answer that? Money is money. Just tell me how much I’m short by and I’ll pay.”

“Do you think I’m just going to take this money from you like it’s no problem?” the owner yelled. “I’ve known about the Milagro Man for a long time, you piece of shit!”

Joshu frowned. “Who the hell is that?”

“What I want to know is did you meet the Milagro Man or not? Did you get this money through him?”

“Sir, we don’t know who that is,” you cut in. “We didn’t get that money from anyone.” Not that you could recall, anyway.

“You must really think I’m stupid or something,” the owner said. He raised his hand, and you tensed, expecting him to strike Joshu. Instead, he jammed the stack of banknotes into Joshu’s pocket. “I’m giving this damn money back! With interest!”

“If he didn’t pay enough, I’ll cover,” you said, stepping between the two of them. “We’re not trying to make trouble. I have the money. You don’t need to—”

The owner didn’t let you finish. “Slam him in the elevator,” he said to the two goons. “Make sure he knows what happens the next time he brings his ass to my club!”

The two goons jostled you aside as they rushed for Joshu. One of them hooked his arms around his neck, dragging him backwards into the elevator. The owner and the other goon looked ready to throw themselves on top of him, but then two bolts appeared on the wrist of the goon restraining Joshu.

It’s Joshu’s Stand.

The goon’s hand detached itself and found the button panel of the elevator, pressing the button for the doors to close. The guy restraining Joshu startled, allowing Joshu to slide to the floor. Wasting no time, Joshu swung up his arm, catching the jaw of the owner and shoving him into the second goon. Bolts appeared on either of the faces and they shrieked as their heads were attached together.

“Get in!” Joshu shouted at you.

You hesitated for a split second before jumping over the men on the floor and into the elevator just as the doors closed. You tried not to look at the detached hand still hanging on the button panel as the elevator took you to the ground floor. Joshu sprinted outside the moment the doors opened, not stopping until you got to an alleyway you could duck into.

The two of you stared at each other, breathing heavily. You risked a glance around the corner, and when the trio of goons didn’t miraculously materialize, you grabbed a fistful of Joshu’s shirt and shoved him against the wall.

“What the hell is going on?” you demanded. “You and I both know you don’t have 450 000 yen. Where did that money come from? Who’s the Milagro Man? Are you caught up in a gang or some shit?”

“Oi, relax! The hell are you grabbing me for? I just told you that I don’t know who the fuck that is!”

You let go of Joshu only to wrench his shoulder bag from him. You ripped the zipper open and fat stacks of yen spilled onto the ground. Your eyes widened. Joshu’s entire bag was filled, no, overflowing with money.

“Joshu, did you steal this?” you choked out. No wonder the club owner had been on Joshu’s ass. No one would be stupid enough to take stolen banknotes. Or had all of this been laundered somehow? Immediately, thoughts of black market rooms and explicit underground rings flashed in your head.

“Are you stupid? No!” Joshu yanked the bag back from you. He stared at the banknotes. “I don’t know how this got in here. Those guys must have stuffed it in my bag without me noticing.”

Even as he said it, the words rang hollow. The goons back at the nightclub hadn’t been anywhere near Joshu’s bag all night. And if it hadn't been them, who would just stuff over 500 000 yen into someone’s bag?

You took out one of the stacks of money and flipped through it. It felt like real money, and tentatively sniffing it revealed it smelled like real money too. There was nothing you could see that indicated they were fake except—

“All of the serial numbers end in 13R,” you said, noticing suddenly.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Joshu snatched back the stack.

“You need to turn in this money to the police. It’s not safe to walk around with this much.”

“I can’t,” Joshu said. He turned away from you, fiddling the vending machine nearby to keep from looking at you.

“What do you mean? You know you can’t keep this.”

“Why not? Is it so bad that I just happen to be lucky? Now I won’t have to worry about your fortune because I have my own.” Joshu’s tone was distant, obviously hiding something.

“Where did you get this money from?” you snapped. “This is way more than what the nightclub owner gave back. Tell me. Or I’ll bring you in to the police myself. This is probably the shittiest ‘date’ I’ve been on. The least you can do is explain what the hell is going on.”

Joshu stopped to pick up the can the vending machine dropped. He cracked open the can and didn’t talk until he’d taken a long drink.

“I was at this venue when some dumbass just left his wallet behind at the counter. Of course I had to take it. I found his credit card, managed to guess his pin number, and withdrew all of the money he had in his account.”

You gaped at Joshu. This was low, even for him. “And you’re not going to give it back?”

“Hell no. If someone’s stupid enough to leave their wallet behind, they deserve to get stolen from. I already threw away the wallet, anyway.”

You struggled to maintain your composure. How was it that you’d thought for even a second that Joshu might be redeemable? He was as scummy and underhanded as you’d thought and the realization made you sad more than anything.

“I’m going home,” you said. Joshu caught your wrist as you turned away. “What? Why? Don’t you see all this cash? You’re not gonna blow it all with me?”

“I don’t need money,” you said, snatching your arm back. “If you want to use some poor guy’s life savings, leave me out of it. You’re a shit person and iit's going to come back to bite you in the ass.”

Joshu looked briefly hurt. He quickly covered it up. “Fine then. It’s not like you were titillating company anyway.”

You left him in the alleyway. As you passed a trash can, you took the bucket hat from your head and tossed it inside.

You had reached for your phone unthinkingly the next morning, wanting to see what stupid message Joshu had left before it all came back to you. A rise of anger and embarrassment went through you and you threw your pillow over your face, wishing you hadn’t woken up.

Karera came into your room not long after, and no amount of her goading could convince you to get up. You relayed Joshu’s disastrous date to her from under your pillow and despite how ready she was to pull up to the Higashikata mansion and kick Joshu’s ass, you didn’t have an ounce of energy for it. You told her to just leave it alone, that you had learned your lesson and didn’t want to think about it anymore. Karera seemed to realize how disheartened you were, because she asked to borrow your card for groceries before closing your bedroom door behind her.

You felt like a sad, pathetic loser. You had actually started to like Joshu a little bit yesterday. If it weren’t for the money debacle, the two of you might have gone somewhere. For the umpteenth time, you stared at the brand on the back of your hand. How were you supposed to start a relationship if you were such a bad judge of character? You couldn’t tell who did and didn’t like you, and you couldn’t tell if people were genuinely bad or just misunderstood. It was becoming obvious that if true love punched you in the face, you would be none the wiser. You didn’t know who you could fall in love with, let alone how you were supposed to nurture it.

I wish I didn’t have to do this, you thought, turning over on your side. I wish someone else could fall in love for me.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You flipped it over, glancing at the caller ID before pushing it away, frustrated. Joshu called again when you didn’t pick up, and then twice more after that.

A part of you was surprised Joshu had even bothered. The other part of you was pissed. Joshu should know that he was the last person you wanted to hear from right now.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. “What?” you snapped into the phone.

“I need your help,” Joshu said.

“And why would I help you? You couldn’t give less of a shit about me last night.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry about that. You just need to help me right now.”

Joshu really had no shame. “Call someone else,” you said. “I’m not up for your bullshit today.”

“Wait. Just hear me out.” There was a ragged edge to Joshu’s voice that gave you pause. “You were right about the money yesterday. Something’s wrong with it.”

“Besides the fact that it was stolen?”

“I can’t get rid of it,” Joshu said. “No matter what I spend it on, the money ends up coming back to me and I end up with more than I spent.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” you asked flatly.

“The money is a Stand,” Joshu said intensely. “I tried putting it in this guy’s pocket and his lighter caught the bills on fire. They didn’t burn. They just started multiplying like they were alive or some shit. I can’t even find a place to physically put the money anymore. The bills just keep multiplying. It’s like they don’t want to be destroyed or something.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with me.” The distress in Joshu’s voice was undeniable, but you would be lying if you said a part of you wasn’t grimly satisfied by this turn of events. This was what Joshu got for stealing a man’s whole bank account. And honestly, you couldn’t see why Joshu was so upset if he had self-multiplying money.

“I managed to figure out who the guy I stole the card from is. I have his name and his address. I need you to come with me so I can give him back these goddamn bills.”

“It sounds like you’re perfectly capable of going to this guy by yourself.”

“He left behind his card on purpose. He wanted me to get these bills. The bills must have screwed with him just like they did me. He’s not going to take the bills back willingly. If things go bad, you have to use Dancing's Done to force him to take the bills.”

“You’re acting like I’m obligated to help you with this,” you gritted out. “This only happened because you stole that man’s card and you tried to destroy those bills. This is your problem. I don’t have anything to do with it.”

“You were there with me yesterday! Are you really going to be the shitty person that doesn’t help their friends?”

You barked a laugh. “We are not friends. You wanted to impress me on a date. You didn’t. I have a curse hanging over my head. I don’t have time to help you with your bullshit.”

You almost hung up just then, but you wanted to hear what Joshu could possibly say to defend himself. His next words were so quiet you almost didn’t hear them.

“I got carried away last night. I thought that if I acted like I didn’t give a shit, I wouldn’t seem so pathetic. You have a limitless fortune. I don’t have shit. I let the money get to my head. I thought you would be used to stuff like that but—god, I don’t know. I was just being an asshole and I’m sorry. I always fuck this stuff up.”

If it was an apology, it wasn’t a very good one. And if it was an explanation, it didn’t make any sense. But Joshu had said it and, for once, he hadn’t sounded insufferably arrogant. He just sounded sad. And confused.

You took a deep breath, praying half-heartedly to the mountain gods to give you strength.

“What’s that guy’s address?”

You and Joshu waited around a corner for Nigatake to arrive at his apartment. The two of you had shown up without a word to each other, and it seemed like you were both just going to pretend the phone call hadn’t happened. You clenched your bone dice in your hand as you spotted a man making his way up the stairs, two large bags of groceries in his hands. You waited for Joshu to go first before following behind him.

“Oi, you’re Nigatake Zaihei, right?”

The man looked up, barely able to react before Joshu slammed his hand against the man’s throat, pinning him against the door.

“You’re the one who started this, aren’t you? You’re a fucking dead man!”

“Joshu,” you said sharply. Joshu loosened his grip but didn’t let go of Nigatake.

“Oh, you must be—I knew you’d come,” Nigatake rasped. “You must have destroyed the Milagro Man’s money. What did you do, burn it?”

“The hell are you talking about?” Joshu demanded.

“It’s not my doing. This whole thing … it’s a curse. When someone destroys the money, it’s passed on to someone else.”

Your blood chilled. Joshu shoved Nigatake down on the ground. “You fucking jackass!”

“Just let him talk,” you said faintly, although a part of you wasn’t sure you wanted to hear.

You heard the story in a daze. Nigatake had gone to Germany for a concert and stolen money from a homeless man when he didn’t have any for a cab. That euro bill’s serial number had ended in 13. The true curse of the Milagro’s Man’s bills was that it was impossible to use them. Money would continue to accumulate while you were unable to buy food or clothing or pay bills. Eventually, back in Morioh, everyone became privy to the nature of the Milagro Man’s money, refusing to have anything to do with Nigatake. He had been waiting for two years for someone like Joshu to steal his card. The only way he could be free was by passing on the money to someone else.

“That’s your only choice,” Nigatake said. “To pass on the bills to someone and hope they try to destroy them. Your mind starts to break down faster than you’d expect. You absolutely cannot make the Milagro’s Man’s curse disappear.”

Your heart picked up at the words. You would know better than anyone that the only way to overcome a curse was to break it or pass it on to someone else.

“That’s all I can say to help you,” Nigatake said. His entire frame seemed to sag with pity as he looked at Joshu. He bowed. “I wanted to thank you, though. For taking the curse from me. I haven’t been able to live for the past two years, but you’ve saved me. Thank you.”

Joshu’s eyes narrowed. As Nigatake’s head remained lowered, he pointed a finger at the man, Nut King Call appearing over his shoulder.

“Don’t,” you said, grabbing his hand. Nigatake looked up, confused. You glared at Joshu but he wouldn’t back down. Wisely, Nigatake said nothing more, quickly unlocking his apartment and shuffled inside.

“What the fuck?! What do you expect me to do?” Joshu wrenched away from you. “You heard that asshole! He set me up! He just made sure that I’ll never use money again!”

“He was just trying to protect himself,” you said tightly.

“And he can do that by springing his curse on someone else? How is that fair?”

“You brought this on yourself. Even if it hadn’t been the Milagro Man’s bills, what kind of person steals someone else’s card?”

“What kind of person puts a curse on someone?”

Joshu started for Nigatake’s door. It took everything in you not to punch him for being pigheaded.

“Would you stop? You’re not going to give those bills back. He passed it on to you. Now you have to follow through with the curse.”

“Do you want me to be cursed or something? Just let me deal with this!” Joshu cried.

The brand on your hand almost seemed to burn. You opened your mouth but didn’t know how to explain how you felt towards the Milagro Man’s curse. Understanding, maybe? Curses came about when you wanted people to learn a lesson. This curse was about greed. Something told you the Milagro Man’s curse was not meant to be broken, because greed perpetually festered, and there was no shortage of people who deserved to be humbled. Even if you couldn’t see it, some part of Joshu must have been affected for him to be so frantic.

“This curse is a lesson,” you said. “Nagitake learned it. You learned it. Now it’s your responsibility to teach someone else.”

“My responsibility?”

“Where are the bills right now?”

“In a coin locker. If they still fit in there, that is.”

You looked at Joshu pointedly. He glowered at you, then at Nigatake’s door. He heaved a sigh.

“Righteous bullshit.”

Karera wasn’t at the villa when you got home that night. You tried not to feel disappointed. She was always out at some place or other, but she was the one person you could vent to and not feel like you were being judged.

Tomorrow, you would be halfway through your second week in Morioh. You still had time, but it didn’t feel like enough. The brand on your hand had been gradually darkening and now you could make out that it was some kind of character, in a language forgotten to time. It might be written down somewhere what the character meant. Stupidity, maybe.

For some reason when your phone went off with a text from Joshu, you responded. Because you were curious, you told yourself.

JOSHU: yo

Y/N: you’re still alive

JOSHU: no thanks to you. left the locker key on a park bench. there’s a tag on it with the address and everything. pretty sure someone picked it up by now but i won't check until tomorrow just to make sure

Y/N: do you feel a little bad for whoever will pick it up?

JOSHU. no. maybe a little. i don’t know. this curse shit sucks i don’t know how you’re dealing with it

Y/N: i don’t know if am, to be honest. but my family is depending on me so i don’t have a choice

JOSHU: that shouldn’t be your responsibility

Y/N: it’s just the way things happened

Even though you knew it wouldn’t work, you couldn’t resist typing out, if i don’t find my true love, i’ll die. The curse had been put on your family decades ago. Was there some way the mountain gods would prevent a text from going through?

Y/N: [ Message failed to send. ][ Message failed to send. ]

Well. That wasn’t so surprising.

JOSHU: i was thinking. you know how you said curses are a lesson? what lesson is your curse supposed to be then?

Y/N: i don’t know. arrogance? Self-centeredness?. Not being stupid?

JOSHU: All those lesson suck ass and they don’t really seem fair either. Like i get greed but everyone is selfish and stupid and whatever. you shouldn’t be cursed for that

Y/N: well my family did

JOSHU: that’s stupid. Your grandpa was poor so he gets cursed. Like damn

As you tried to type out that that wasn’t really the point at all, Joshu sent another message.

JOSHU: why don’t you just fall in love with me so this stupid shit goes away

Y/N: that’s a joke right?

JOSHU: yes dumbass. i really am sorry about today though. And yesterday. I wasn’t trying to make your day shitty. i’m just bad at interacting with people.

i try to seem cool but i just come off as an asshole. i should’ve been thinking about you more i guess. Instead of going off on my own. I don’t know if that makes sense i get it if you block me i’m kinda surprised you haven’t

You were surprised too, to be honest. You didn’t know what made you keep reading Joshu’s messages.

Maybe you were looking too much into it, but you felt like you had gotten a glimpse of what Joshu was like under all of the prickle and swagger. You felt like that was the guy you were starting to like—the one who was tentative and a little dorky and who accidentally said things he meant.

Why couldn't he just say things like that all the time? If he did, there was the possibility that—

That the like might become something else?

Do you think you could fall in love with me?

Y/N: you remember the question you asked me?

JOSHU: no. what question

Y/N: nevermind im going to sleep see you later

JOSHU: ?? see you later i guess.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

#okoshijjl #jjba #jjba x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jojolion #jojolion x reader #appreciate the determination to get fugo

4 notes · View notes

cophene · 25 days

Text

037 || ☆ ⁺ « NO BEARING ON THE GALAXY.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

★˚⋆ BACK IN THE GALLEY, YOU FELT Narancia’s absence keenly. You tried not to let your apprehension show on your face. You didn’t blame your pilot for his freakout, but you still wished he hadn’t done it. Prince Giorno was nothing short of calm and collected all of the time. Donatello might pass this off as hysteria, but there had to be a part of him that was suspicious. You had hoped that there might be a chance Chariot Requiem’s ability would wear off with Narancia being so far away, but so far, Giorno hadn’t magically switched back to his body.

Bruno, Fugo, and Abbacchio had disappeared into the engine room to bang out a game plan. Technically, you should have been there too, but you were too pent up to do much thinking. You were still trying to get yourself under control. Still trying to pretend to be Bruno and figure out what the murderous pulsing in your chest was that demanded to get the Stand Arrow before anything else.

Chariot Requiem was lumbering around the barracks now, as unconcerned as ever.

“Narancia will be okay, right?” Trish asked. She looked pensively at Giorno. “Nothing will happen to him?”

“As I said before, it’s unlikely Donatello will do anything to him now that word is beginning to travel. It will all be a matter of how he conducts himself.” Giorno had one hand clamped over Narancia’s bandaged eye. A faint glow emitted from where his Stand’s hand superimposed itself and Giorno winced slightly as it did its work.

“Can you really heal his eye?” Mista asked.

Giorno removed his hand and carefully unwrapped the bandage. “It’s only temporary. Healing injuries is one thing, but diseases can’t be healed by just replacing the body part. In Narancia’s case, much of the surrounding area and his blood have been diseased. I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do about it.” He closed his eyes briefly before opening them again.

You still weren’t used to this blunt, straightforward prince. Hell, you weren’t used to thinking of him as Prince Giorno at all.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss Coco Jumbo,” Mista said. “I mean, it could probably spit out a hundred different plans to get us out of this mess, right?”

Trish directed her question at Polnareff, who was sitting on the table beside a few sticks of carrot. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what he was feeling, stuck in the body of a turtle. “Is there nothing else you can tell us about Chariot Requiem?”

“You know as much as I do,” Polnareff answered. “Its abilities seem to be centred around the Arrow. It can redirect Stand attacks and even partially control one’s Stand. It does not react to outside stimuli unless it makes an effort to go after the Arrow.”

“So it’s basically unbeatable,” Mista said, falling back in his seat.

“Everything has a weakness,” Prince Giorno said. “We just need to find it.” He glanced at Polnareff, and then did a double take.

“Dr. Polnareff, are you alright?”

You turned to look, then bit back a gasp. Something was growing from Polnareff’s neck. A shrivelled, disfigured second turtle head with dead eyes and pus leaking from its mouth. Bile rose in your throat and you struggled to keep calm.

“What is that?” Mista said. “What’s going on with him?”

“It looks like some sort of mutation,” Giorno said, extending his fingers to prod at it. You grimaced.

Trish’s eyes widened. “Mutation? From what?”

Polnareff didn’t look alarmed. Likely he had been aware of the second head for a while and just hadn’t said anything. “I think it might be an extension of Chariot Requiem’s abilities. Not only does it switch souls, it mutates the vessel the soul is in.”

“We’re all going to start mutating?” Trish breathed, staring at her hands. “How long do we have?”

“What’s this about mutation?”

You all turned to watch Bruno, Fugo and Abbacchio enter the galley.

“We discovered another facet of Chariot Requiem’s ability,” Giorno said, nodding at Polnareff. “It causes the body to mutate. How quickly and to what degree, we’re not sure.”

“So that’s what this is,” Abbacchio said, drawing up the sleeve of his shirt. A patch of his skin had torn away, revealing something wiry and dark beneath.

“Oh stars.” Mista gagged.

“We’re running out of time,” you said, trying not to react to Abbacchio’s arm or your own fear about what might happen to you. “We need to get that Arrow to Zero. If you have a plan, let’s hear it.”

“I think we’ve established by now that Sheila is one of Zero’s most trusted subordinates,” Fugo said, coming to sit beside you. “From there, the simplest answer seemed like the best one.

“We’ll have both Zero and Sheila come onto the ship. They’ll try to grab the Arrow, probably get hurt in the process, and then Chariot Requiem will switch their souls. Abbacchio will arrest Zero in Sheila’s body, and we’ll incapacitate Zero. Once we figure out how to switch everyone’s souls back, we’ll go to rescue Narancia and let Giorno take his rightful place. He’ll deal with Zero from there.”

“But we’re assuming Chariot Requiem will only switch Sheila and Zero’s souls and not anyone else’s,” Giorno pointed out.

“If it comes down to it, it won’t matter who Zero switches souls with so long as someone else ends up in Zero’s body,” Abbacchio replied. “The entire point here is that we want Zero out of his body so that he’ll be easier to ‘arrest’.”

“What if—what if—” Trish screwed up her face, seeming to have trouble saying whatever it was she wanted to say.

“You don’t think this plan is a little harsh?” Mista said. “I mean, Zero isn’t that bad of a guy, is he?”

Fugo met your gaze with a meaningful head tilt. See? This is what I was talking about. The influence of Zero’s Stand. Twisting everyone into something different.

It was a harsh plan. You didn’t like it. You wanted to tell Zero. Better yet, you wanted to make sure he would never fall into this trap to begin with.

You clenched your hands under the table. It didn’t matter what the crew ultimately decided because you would make sure the Arrow went to Zero. It had to. There was nothing else you could live with.

Maybe I don’t care what the crew thinks so long as Zero is happy with me.

Retrieve the Arrow and deliver it to Zero.

Nothing else matters.

You were annoyed your crew was still talking about this. Why did they think they could possibly outwit Zero? How could they? Didn’t they know how badly things would end for them?

Someone’s holopad went off. Fugo reached into his pocket with a frown. What he saw there made his spine straighten.

“What’s wrong?” Trish asked.

“There’s a disturbance by the maintenance gate,” Fugo said. “The ship’s systems are telling me to have a look.”

“I’ll go with you,” Mista said. “Probably just some space dust clogging up the sensors.”

“It doesn’t look like space dust,” Fugo said, getting to his feet. “I can’t tell what it is.”

“Better deal with it, then.”

Mista and Fugo left the galley. Silence descended upon everyone else.

“There’s nothing to do but wait for Zero to hail us,” Bruno said. “Abbacchio, I want you and Trish to take Polnareff and keep an eye on Chariot Requiem. Study it and see if there’s any possible weakness we can exploit.” Abbacchio and Trish nodded solemnly, Trish picking up Polnareff and leaving with Abbacchio to find Chariot Requiem.

“If I may, I’m going back to the barracks,” Giorno said, rising. “Narancia has been pinging me. I think he’s starting to be questioned by the Imperial staff.”

“I’d appreciate it if you could guide him the best you could, Your Highness,” Bruno said.

Giorno rubbed an eye over Narancia’s injured eye, wincing from a spike of pain. “I’ll do my best. Call me right away if Zero hails us.”

Nervous energy coiled in your stomach. You hated the waiting. You just wanted Zero to be here already. You had to warn him. You couldn’t allow Chariot Requiem to hurt him.

“What’s wrong with you?” Bruno said, and the intensity in his voice made you jolt.

“Nothing is wrong.”

“You’ve always been easy to read, but your emotions on my face might as well be written there. Why do you have that look on your face? Like you’re trying to hold something back? You’ve been quiet the entire time we made plans. You’re never like that.”

You looked around to make sure no one was there, then said, “You’ve been gone a long time, Bruno. Don’t assume you still know me.”

“Are you still angry about that? I thought I explained myself.”

Were you still angry at that? The irrational irritation you felt at Bruno’s questions said you were but you didn’t know why.

“I’ve suspected this for a long time, but I need to know for sure. Are you under Zero’s influence right now?”

“He would never use his Stand on me,” you growled. “I don’t know why you and Fugo insist on treating him like a monster. He’s done nothing but respect us. He doesn’t deserve to be put away like some criminal.”

“But he is—”

“No, he isn’t. You don’t know him at all. We’re not handing over the Arrow to the GA’s, or Giorno, or anyone. Zero is getting it. That’s what we promised. That’s the only thing I’ll stand for. I kept quiet because you would never say a thing like that but this whole thing is stupid.”

There was a flash of horror in Bruno’s eyes.

“Captain…”

The irritation you’d been trying to keep back broke like a dam all at once. You felt it explode in your chest. You fisted your hands into Bruno’s shirt and yanked him towards you, your faces barely an inch apart.

“If you get in my way, Bruno, I will kill you. If any of the crew get in my way, I will kill them. Zero will get the Stand Arrow. He has to, do you understand me?”

“Listen to yourself. Is this really what you want?” Bruno said hoarsely.

“Of course it is. I’ve wanted this from the beginning.”

You stared at Bruno a beat longer. Then a jolt of electricity went down your spine. You rose from your seat, letting go of Bruno abruptly.

“He’s here,” you said, and you couldn’t explain how you knew. “Zero is here.”

“How do you know—”

You rushed to the bridge without waiting for Bruno. The you’d felt toward him was replaced by glee. Zero was finally here. You would finally be able to do what you’d promised him.

The moment you arrived at the bridge, the comms console went off. You accepted the ping immediately.

Zero's mask was in place as always, his figure clad in dark, loose-fitting clothing. His mouth tightened when he saw you, and you realized belatedly it wasn’t your face he was seeing.

“Bruno Bucciarati,” Zero said before you could. “So you’ve returned to Passione. Unusual, considering the face that you have a history of terminating employment.”

Get yourself together. You’re supposed to be Bruno.

“I hope you’re not fostering any hopes of my return,” you said smoothly, stifling your excitement. It was a nearly painful feeling to speak to Zero this way. “Joining with you” —your chest twinged— “was a mistake.”

“Was it?” Zero tilted his head. “You were happy enough when you were with me.”

You were saved from replying by footsteps coming up behind you. “Zero,” Bruno said, and even he couldn’t hide the tension in his voice. “You’re here for the Stand Arrow?”

Zero barked a laugh. “As though you need to ask, Captain. You’ve been through quite a lot, and I was convinced that stint at the Black Zone would be the end of everything. In fact, I was under the assumption you had perished. But you managed to pull through. I’m sure you’re just as eager as I am to get this over with.”

You would have crowed your agreement. Instead, Bruno remained silent, scrutinizing Zero through the display.

“You placed a great amount of trust in us,” he said. “There were many times when we could have died, could have lost the Arrow. What made you so sure we would succeed?”

“I wasn’t sure. But I was willing to take a chance on your Stand abilities. Luckily for me, it paid off. Where is Polnareff? I would like to speak to him.”

“There’s no need,” you said quickly. “He’s already agreed to relinquish ownership of the Arrow.”

“Is that so? How convenient.”

“Prince Donatello paid us a visit earlier,” Bruno said. You frowned, wondering why he was bringing it up. “Did you have anything to do with that?”

“Captain, you insult me by suggesting I have any associations with that man. I can assure you I had nothing to do with that. Why did he want to visit you?”

Bruno didn’t mention Giorno, which you were grateful for. “He said he has a score to settle with us.”

Zero smiled. “Prince Donatello has a score to settle with many people.”

“Do I get your word that you’ll protect us from any unseen consequences or implications we might face from carrying out this job for you?” Bruno asked. You wanted to punch him. Why was he making things difficult?

Zero’s gaze slid off to the side of the screen. All of a sudden, you felt a flare of pain in your chest and had to grip the console to keep from crying out. You closed your eyes, willing for it to pass.

Eventually, Zero said, “It’s a bit late in the deal to be negotiating, Captain. We have settled our terms. It wouldn’t be fair to ask for anything else.”

Bruno was looking at you, his eyebrows drawn together. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t be.”

“In that case, there’s no reason to wait. Allow me permission, and I will board your ship.” You thought there might have been the slightest hitch of anticipation in Zero’s voice.

“Zero, I just wanted to let you know—” you said, but you didn’t get the chance to finish.

You knew the cold press of an elector muzzle when you felt it.

“—That the Arrow is currently being guarded by an extremely dangerous Stand with no user and no discernable weaknesses? Was that what you were going to tell him?”

Her voice was smooth acid. You felt stupid that you couldn’t immediately recognize it.

“Sheila,” Bruno said, his voice thick with shock.

“Oh, so you remember me,” Sheila said. “That’s an honour, Captain.”

Over the call, Zero’s mouth was tilted at an angle. “You’re late, Sheila.”

“Sorry I couldn’t get here earlier,” she said. To you and Bruno, she said, “On your knees. Now.”

You felt your pocket and your stomach dropped. In all the commotion, you had broken one of your cardinal rules. Always have an elector on you. Bruno must have forgotten, because he hadn’t gotten one all this time he’d been on the ship.

Neither had you. You were both unarmed.

You and Bruno kneeled. “How did you get on the ship?” Bruno asked, his hands interlocked behind his head.

“Disturbance by the maintenance gate,” Sheila sneered. “You’d think that after those two mechanics and Prince Giorno stowed away in your cargo, you’d be more careful about guarding your ship. Trish and Abbacchio are bound and gagged in the engine room. Mista and Fugo are unconscious and the Prince is locked in his room. In case you were curious.”

You stiffened, then supposed things would be easier with everyone out of the way. But how did she know? About Sale and Zucchero, but also about Giorno?

“How do you know about Prince Giorno? We only just discovered that ourselves,” you said.

“Slow on the uptake, aren’t you?” Sheila said, nudging you with the elector. You clenched your teeth.

“I hope you’ll forgive me for sending a scout after you,” Zero said, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. “But this was an important job, and I wanted to make sure you stayed on course.”

“A spy,” Bruno said flatly. “You spent a spy after us.”

“Sheila was only ever there for your benefit,” Zero said. “It saved you the hassle of checking in with me constantly, and allowed me to keep abreast of your developments. It wasn’t as though I could leave you unattended for a month.”

Yes. Of course, that was true. It was entirely reasonable and you admired Zero’s foresight.

“You haven’t quite finished your job yet, Passione,” Zero said. “You said you would deliver the Stand Arrow to me. That Arrow is currently under guard by a Stand. What do you plan on doing about that?”

“The Stand is of no consequence,” Bruno lied. “You can still board to receive the Arrow as planned.”

“Bullshit,” Sheila snapped. “None of you are anywhere near the Stand. If it was safe, you would have gotten the Arrow yourself.”

“As you can see, none of us have been attacked by the Stand,” Bruno said. “I would not lie to you.”

You twitched. The nerve of Bruno to outright lie to Zero’s face! And in your body, no less!

“Bruno, do you have something to say?” Zero said.

“No,” Bruno said tightly. “He doesn’t.”

You glowered at him. You were caught at an impasse: the desire to tell Zero the truth, but also the fact that you couldn’t reveal you and Bruno had switched souls.

“Escort the Captain outside,” Zero said, reading your silence. “I would like to speak to Bruno alone.”

“Whatever he has to say, I should hear it too,” Bruno said, struggling against Sheila as she hauled him to his feet.

“I won’t hurt him,” Zero said mockingly. “He’ll be just fine, Captain.”

Bruno continued to struggle as Sheila frogmarched him out of the bridge. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to feel bad.

“Speak,” Zero commanded you. “There’s no reason to hide it now.”

“Chariot Requiem is extremely dangerous,” you said immediately. “You can’t make contact with it directly and we don’t know the full extent of its abilities. Sheila is taking a huge risk by being here. We don’t know how to liberate the Stand Arrow as of right now.”

Zero did not seem surprised by this information. “I see,” he said. “And what do you suggest we do, Bruno?”

You heard the slight emphasis on the word. For a second, you paused, wondering if it was possible that Zero knew.

“Bruno.”

“Yes, sir?”

Zero’s mouth twisted. “You received military training, did you not?”

No, Bruno hadn’t. But you had, and you couldn’t bring yourself to lie. Not now, when Zerowas as good as right in front of you.

Unconsciously, you rose to your feet and folded your hands behind you. “Yes, sir.”

“If I told you how to bring the Arrow to me, would you do it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Zero nodded to himself. “How did this ‘Chariot Requiem’ come about?”

“Polnareff’s Stand was pierced by the Stand Arrow, sir. Its abilities are extremely volatile. It is able to redirect a Stand’s attack and partially control that Stand to deal damage.” Although you wanted to, there was still some part of you that wouldn’t let you say Chariot Requiem’s abilities outright. You still wanted to hide it, at least for now.

“The Stand was pierced?” Zero said. “Is there any way we could direct the Stand to my ship?”

“If the docking bridge was open, it would likely make its way there on its own, sir. However, there cannot be more than two people aboard the ship when it does. That would be … dangerous.”

“I don’t have time to wait for it. Is there no faster way?”

You barely hesitated. “I could grab the Arrow and run into the ship, sir. The nature of my Stand would not deal too much damage. At any rate, it would already be aboard your ship at that point.”

“You would do that willingly?”

“Yes, sir.”

You had the strangest sensation of being pulled from your body and leaving it behind. Well, Bruno’s body. All at once, you were looking at yourself from a corner of the room, no longer in control. The only thing that connected you to Bruno’s body was a shimmering thread unspooling from your chest.

No, you thought. What’s happening?

Zero said something else. You didn’t hear it, but to your horror, Bruno’s voice replied. Without your will. Without your intent. For a second, you thought that Chariot Requiem had unleashed another attack and someone else had switched into Bruno’s body.

But then you understood, and the knowledge was like slowly burning alive.

You could only see it now, separated from your body. Pericolo had seen it, and so had Fugo. You didn’t seem like yourself because you weren’t.

Since the beginning, Zero had used his Stand on you. Snaked his way inside and plucked out something intrinsic. He had changed something in your soul. Made it so that his own objectives were more desirable. Made it so that you ignored what you believed in and followed him instead.

You couldn’t control your body anymore because it would not listen to you. In the face of conflicting will powers, it had pushed you out and chosen Zero instead. Somehow, perhaps unconsciously, it was Zero who was controlling you.

Zero’s resolve. Your soul. Bruno’s body.

This can’t be happening.

You tried to speak. Try to crawl back into Bruno’s body. Tried to do something. But you were untethered, inconsequential. You no longer had bearing on the galaxy.

Horror, fear, anguish like you had never known crashed over you. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. It couldn’t. It—

“Here is my plan,” Zero said. “Please listen carefully.”

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

#kismetva #jjba #jjba x reader #jjba fanfic #golden wind #golden wind x reader #vento aureo #vento aureo x reader #gender neutral reader #sci fi au

5 notes · View notes

cophene · 27 days

Text

015 | gold dust champagne.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

★ . . . SHUT THE HELL UP.”

“I’m not even saying anything.”

“Then drop that goddamn smirk.”

Joshu did not drop his smirk. It stabbed at you from the corner of your eye even as you kept your gaze stonily forward. You wouldn’t be surprised if your bone dice cracked from how hard you were clenching them.

“Why don’t you just take it off?”

“Because I wore it first and I actually have no problem with unintentionally matching hats with you.”

You sank in your seat. Josuke absolutely adored the SBR hat shop and made your promise that you would buy at least one hat on your vacation. The little purple bucket hat made you childishly happy when you wore it, which was why you’d put it on today for some fortitude. The last thing you’d expected was for Joshu to pull up wearing the exact same hat. Since neither of you could swallow your colossal prides to take it off, you were now matching hats. Which might have been cute for any other date, but Joshu had a talent for making things insufferable.

“I’m just surprised you showed you know how to put clothes together,” you muttered.

Joshu side-eyed you. “My clothes are always put together. You just don’t have taste.”

You would have bet money Hato had been the one to throw this outfit together. Instead of his horrendous green shirt and bowtie, Joshu was wearing a boxy blue button-down, a stylized gecko crawling up his side and short sleeves baring his—admittedly nice-looking—forearms. A purple undershirt peaked out over his pants, and the fact that it matched with his bucket hat only further supported the fact that Joshu had not chosen this outfit. Baggy black pants and high-top sneakers completed the look, the blue and black of his sneakers echoing his outfit colours.

“Where are you taking me?” you asked.

Joshu drummed his fingers along the steering wheel. “You’ll see.”

It was so much harder to talk to Joshu in person. Roasting the shit out of him was way more enjoyable when he wasn’t right next to you. When you could actually see him, it felt like your words might actually stick instead of glancing off him. It made you uncomfortable to think you would see if something you said hurt him.

Not for the first time, you wondered if you’d made a mistake agreeing to go with Joshu today. If it turned out to be a waste of a good day, you would kick yourself. The end of your second week was fast approaching, and as prickly as your mother had been, she was right. You really didn’t have time to waste. It would have been so much easier to spend today with Tooru instead. You’d been surprised by how well yesterday had gone and actually looked forward to seeing him again.

Admittedly, you had been embarrassed to admit to him that you hadn’t remembered him from the fruit parlour, but Tooru had taken it in stride. He had seemed quiet and unassuming, and had pleasantly surprised you with how attentive and perceptive he was. He was a wonderful listener, and had been one of the few people who had actually taken your curse seriously. For someone you had just met, Tooru had a surprising amount of faith in you. Out of everyone you had met thus far in Morioh, no one seemed to get you the way Tooru did. It was too bad you had gotten too caught up in your conversation with him to take out your bone dice. You would’ve liked to see what number he would’ve rolled. Some other time, hopefully.

Reluctantly, you turned your thoughts away from Tooru. As much as you wished you were with him, you weren’t, and you had to be in a completely different mindset to deal with Joshu. Civilly.

“Can I ask you something?” you said.

“If it’s not stupid.”

You watched his face carefully. “Do you really want to start something with me? Or do you just want the fortune? Because you realize you can’t have one without the other, right?”

Joshu pursed his lips. “Sure I can. You just have to fall for me. It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“But that wouldn’t be true love.”

“Look, it makes sense in my head, alright? I want your money, but I don’t want anything to do with you.”

You frowned. What Joshu said didn’t hurt because you’d known that from the beginning. “I get that, but I don’t want you to waste your time. I’m going to lose my fortune if it isn’t true love. And that means my feelings have to be reciprocated.”

“You never said that.”

“Falling in love is easy,” you said. “It’s holding on that’s hard.”

Joshu didn’t answer. His expression turned inscrutable.

“I’m not kidding around this curse stuff. If this month goes by and I can’t find my true love, I’ll—” your throat closed, the curse preventing you from saying the word die. “I’ll lose everything. It was fine when you wanted to mess with me before, but I don’t have time for that anymore.”

You hated how small your voice sounded. It was nearly lost under the rumble of the car on the road. You clenched your jaw, looking everywhere but at Joshu.

The car stopped at a red light. “Do you think you could fall in love with me?” Joshu asked.

“What?”

“I don’t get what your approach with this is,” Joshu said. “All you’re doing is going out with people who show an interest in you. Why aren’t you going after the people you want?”

You blinked. “Because there’s no guarantee they’ll like me back.”

“The same can be said for this! If someone ends up loving you, how shitty are you going to feel if you don’t love them back?”

From the start, you had thought it would be best if you let people come to you. If you were too bold, too eager, too quick, you would set yourself up for rejection. It would be easier to learn to love someone than to suffer being rejected, right? If they loved you already, wouldn’t it be that much easier?

“Yeah, I’m an option, but only if you want to let me be. Spend today with me and figure out if there’s even a possibility you could love me. Because if there isn’t, it really is a waste of time.”

“I thought you just wanted my money,” you said faintly. “Why are you giving me legitimately good advice?”

“... Because I don’t like seeing you run around with anyone who will have you. If this is your curse, you should start acting like it.”

Who was this person and what had they done with Higashikata Joshu? You stared at him and the car was quiet until Joshu flushed.

“At some point this stopped being a joke and now it’s something I’m actually interested in. So thanks a lot. I’m wasting my time for you.”

You wondered if you had been looking at this wrong. If at some point you had started to look forward to Joshu’s texts instead of dreading them. If at some point you had started to talk to him because you wanted to and not out of an obligation to be nice.

If Joshu wanted you to use today as a measure of how much you liked him, what did that mean? Hadn’t he just admitted he only wanted your fortune? But that wasn’t all he’d said.

Could he actually be interested in you?

The thought wasn’t as unpleasant as you expected.

“Just forget I said that,” Joshu muttered. He stopped the car and put on the parking brake. “We’re here.”

You eyed your destination warily. “You brought me to the movies?”

“Is that a problem for you?”

It wasn’t, really. It was just that it seemed very … normal for someone like Joshu.

Joshu allowed you to pick the movie. And the seats. And the snacks. You wondered why he was being so agreeable until you realized he wasn’t planning on spending a single yen on this date.

“Wait a minute. You’re not expecting me to pay for all of this, are you?” you said.

Joshu’s face twisted. You were relieved that he really had been under all of that somewhere. “What? Can’t spare a few thousand yen from your trust fund?”

“That’s not the point. You’re the one who brought me on this date. You should be paying.”

“You have a literal fortune that never runs out and I should be the one paying? Have you heard of socialism? The wealthy have to provide for the poor. It distributes wealth.”

Now you were the one twisting your face. “And where is this coming from?”

“Two years of sociology, asshole.”

“You’re not even poor. It’s the principle of it. Or didn’t you say you were trying to impress me? I’m really getting a feel for how courteous and generous you are right now.”

Joshu glowered at you. You raised an eyebrow. “I’m only too happy to take my trust fund somewhere else if you don’t want to do this.”

Joshu turned away and stalked towards the front counter. He made a show of extracting his wallet and withdrawing the stack of banknotes inside. You only frowned. Why had he been so stingy when he had at least 500 000 yen in there?

Even growing up wealthy, you had never thought to buy out all of the seats around you so you could have a private bubble in the theatre. It made you feel guilty, but Joshu showed no such restraint as he kicked back his feet, taking up three seats at once. It didn’t surprise you that Joshu was one of those people who acted like they owned the place, cackling and shouting and being a general nuisance. You all but dragged him out of the theatre once the credits started rolling, intent on getting out before the staff could throw you out.

“Excuse me, sir!” one of the ushers called. Your chest seized until you saw that the girl was waving at Joshu with a huge grin on her face. “Would you like to enter your ticket stubs into our lottery? We’ll be drawing from the lottery very soon! The prize is a limited-edition full-size figurine of the main hero!”

“Sure, why not?” Joshu dropped the dozen tickets he’d bought into the lottery box. You shot him a dirty look that he ignored.

Surprisingly—or not—Joshu won the lottery. He raised the box over his head, grinning aggressively at you as though you were supposed to feel something. You watched dubiously as he headed over towards you, only to be stopped by a man with a goatee.

“Excuse me, but that’s an amazing figurine! Would you mind if I bought it off you?” he asked eagerly. He was already taking out his wallet. “I’ll give you twenty—no, thirty thousand yen for it!”

The figurine changed hands. The insufferable grin hadn’t left Joshu’s face and you felt your insides shrivel a little.

“What was that about?” you asked flatly.

Joshu shrugged, flipping through his freshly-obtained banknotes. “Who knows? You should be happy. Now I have enough to cover your dinner.”

It turned out Joshu didn’t skimp when it wasn’t his money he was using. He drove you to the other side of Morioh to a classy, five-star restaurant. The two of you couldn’t have looked more out of place among the finely dressed couples, but Joshu couldn’t care less. He ordered the host to take the two of you to their best table and proceeded to order the most exorbitant items on the menu. Your eye twitched at every order, because if Joshu ended up not being able to pay, who else would foot the bill?

Deep, red wine and succulent cuts of beef and pork arrived on immaculate plates. Plump shrimp and steamed peas and broccoli. Perfectly seared fish and roasted chicken. About halfway through the meal, Joshu squinted at his plate of roast beef. He pinched something between two fingers, lifting it pointedly. The gesture was so familiar, you almost expected to hear Karera’s voice.

“There’s a piece of hair in this dish.”

With comical swiftness, your server, host, and a line of other stiffly-dressed employees proceeded to your table. They all bowed deeply.

“Our sincerest apologies for the disturbance,” the server said, his body at a ninety-degree angle. “We don’t know how this could have happened. We have wasted your precious time and insulted your esteemed patronage.”

“Oh, it’s not a big deal. The service has been wonderful,” you said quickly, shooting a look at Joshu. You wouldn’t have put it past him to pull a Karera and put one of his own hairs in the dish just to get out of paying. “It’s nothing. You don’t have to apologize.”

The server shook his head. “This is a most egregious mistake. Your entire meal will be free of charge and if it at all improves your mood …”

The hostess stepped forward, meekly placing an envelope on the table. “It is not much, but if you would accept this compensation, we would be most humbled.”

At this point, even Joshu had to be suspicious. He eyed the envelope. For a second, you hoped he wouldn’t accept it.

But then he snatched up the envelope, rifling through it. A shit-eating grin spread across his face. “Today’s my goddamn lucky day! Money just keeps on pouring in!” To the server, he said, “If you’re so sorry, why don’t you get us another bread basket?” The man nodded quickly, whisking everyone off.

“Joshu, what the hell is going on?” you asked. “Where is all of this money coming from?”

“The hell am I supposed to know? What, are you gatekeeping being rich?”

“No, but don’t you think something weird is going on?”

Joshu scoffed. “You were the one who wanted me to pay for your shit. That’s what I’m doing. Why don’t you just enjoy it instead of bitching and moaning?”

Something just felt off. You brushed your bone dice in your pocket, feeling their comforting chill. Was it so hard to believe that Joshu was just lucky?

Joshu took you to a nightclub after dinner. Normally, you loved throwing yourself into a city’s nightlife. Right now though, you only felt a looming sense of apathy as Joshu tried to shoot peanuts down a girl’s cleavage. He had abandoned you for a busty group of girls as soon as you’d entered, leaving you to sit at a booth by yourself as he draped himself all over them.

The only thing that showed Joshu even remembered you was a bottle of champagne one of the servers brought over. There’s real gold dust in this champagne, he said, as though that could make up for the shitty day you were having. Even you, with your limitless fortune, had never thought about drinking gold dust champagne.

You didn’t even know why you’d tried giving Joshu the benefit of the doubt. He had just seemed so earnest yesterday, asking you out, and then again in his car. It had surprised you much he cared under that blasé attitude of his. As you scrolled through your past messages, you wondered where he had found the energy to consistently send you stupid things every morning.

Was he being serious? Or wasn’t he? Did he like you or not? Did it really matter?

Under the strobing lights in the ceiling, you stared at the brand on the back of your hand. It looked so dark all of a sudden, so stark. It was starting to feel impossible that it would ever fade from your skin.

“Oh. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You tilted your head, and the slightest hint of a smile tugged at his mouth.

“Tooru. What are you doing here?”

“What most people tend to do at nightclubs,” Tooru said. Despite that, he appeared very much alone. He didn’t even have a drink in his hand.

“You have a very sad idea of clubbing,” you said. You waved at him to sit down across from you and poured him some of your golden champagne. You couldn’t help but notice how out of place he looked here, with his careful expression and shoulder teddy-bears.

Tooru tried to say something. When you indicated that you couldn’t hear over the music, he slid across the booth until his shoulder brushed up against yours. His voice in your ear made your stomach dip.

“Are you here with anyone?” he asked.

“Sort of,” you said, resisting the urge to glance at Joshu. You suspected he was still in the same position with those girls. “We must have lost each other, though.”

“Good thing I found you then. To be honest, I was just thinking about how nice it would be if I could see you again.”

“You have my number.”

“I like seeing you face-to-face. Feels more natural.” Tooru’s eyes gleamed. “It feels like we’re hiding when we’re behind a screen.”

You blinked. “I guess?”

“Ah, I said something weird. Sorry.” Tooru took a drink from his glass, wincing a little as it went down. “Why don’t we continue our conversation from the other day? About your curse?”

Tooru seemed oblivious to the loud music and shouting around you. The two of you might as well have been the only people in here with the way his attention was pinned on you. It was odd how well he could tune everyone out like that.

“What do you want to know?”

“Who did your curse come from exactly?”

“I don’t know if you believe in them, but an ancestor of mine approached the mountain gods and asked to have his fortune reversed.”

“Do you think that’s fair?” Tooru asked. “Why should your family receive a boon when there are thousands of other people the mountain gods turn their backs on?”

You frowned. “It’s not like I went to the mountain gods myself.”

“Maybe not. But your ancestor’s blood runs through your veins, so at least a part of you is responsible.”

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” you said, your hackles rising. “Maybe it wasn’t fair, but it’s not like anyone else in Morioh has the same curse I do. They might be struggling, but at least they—they can still continue on. At least they have a chance.”

Tooru’s pupils were dilated. “And what do you mean by that?”

They’re suffering, but at least they won’t die by their nineteenth birthday.

You turned away from him. You didn’t know where this interrogation had come from, but you didn’t appreciate it. You took a large drink from your flute.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you,” Tooru said. “People have told me that I’m too intense and need to learn how to draw back.” He rested his head on the table, waiting until you looked at him before smiling sheepishly. The gesture made him seem boyish, like a chastised schoolboy.

“I really want to help you, you know. I want to learn as much about your curse as I can to do that. I like you. A lot. It would be a shame if you died.”

You didn’t quite smile. “I’m just not used to talking about my curse. I’m not used to people actually taking it seriously. It’s hard for me to talk about.”

“I don’t want to push you. Just tell me what you're comfortable with.”

You didn’t know what to make of Tooru’s questions. Did he have some kind of hidden agenda beneath the polite curiosity? Maybe they were questions you should have asked yourself ages ago, but it had just seemed easier to accept the curse and not think too hard about it. It was then that you remembered your bone dice. Tooru’s questions weren’t unwelcome, you decided, but you wanted to make sure you could trust him before you told him anything else. Just as you were taking out your dice, shouts from the other side of the nightclub caught your attention.

“Huh? But what’s the problem?”

“Please follow us outside, sir. We don’t want to make a scene.”

“I don’t understand what the hell you want to talk to me about! If it’s about the champagne—”

Joshu struggled as a pair of burly men lifted him bodily from his seat and hauled him outside of the nightclub. Everyone stared gape-mouthed after him, and your mouth went dry.

Goddamnit, Joshu.

“I should go,” you said, rising from your seat.

“Friend of yours?” Tooru asked.

“Something like that. I’ll text you. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

Tooru lifted his champagne flute to you as you pushed past people to follow Joshu outside.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

#okoshijjl #jjba #jjba x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jojolion #jjba fanfic #jojolion x reader #gender neutral reader

5 notes · View notes

cophene · 1 month

Text

interlude vii || ★ ⁺ — PRINCE OF THE DAY.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

content warning : descriptions of blood and violence

★˚⋆ HARUNO SHIOBANA LEARNED FROM A young age that crying wouldn’t do much for him. One of his earliest memories was of waking up in the middle of the night, sobbing until his throat was raw. Once he stopped, he realized that the house was still quiet, still dark. It meant that his mother, in her twenties and beautiful enough to turn heads on the street, was still out. There was no use crying. No one would come. All he could do was pull his covers over his head and tremble.

Haruno didn’t know who his father was. He didn’t look much like his glamorous, chocolate-haired mother. The few times that he asked earned him lethal glares and sharp remarks. Haruno wasn’t stupid enough to dream that one day his father would appear to take him in.

Haruno’s mother surprised him by announcing one day that she would remarry. This coming from someone who took different partners every week and preferred bottles and pills to men. She told him they would be rich and that they would be moving to a colony ship.

“I won’t have to take care of you because you’ll have a nanny,” she told him. “Don’t you like that?”

Haruno nodded. His mother said nothing about the fact that she never took much care of him to begin with. She only sometimes remembered to restock the fridge with instant meals and when they ran out, Haruno would knock on the neighbour’s doors. She must not know how hungry he always was when she went out.

“That shirt is disgusting,” she said afterwards, wrinkling her nose. “Go change into something else.”

Haruno was only wearing this shirt because all of his other ones were too small. It was a hand-me-down from the neighbours. Maybe things would get better after his mother remarried. His stepfather might actually take care of him like a real child.

The wedding was extravagant. Haruno had never been to an event like it. So much light and music and food. People he had never met before pinched his cheek and gave him sweets. “Your mother is beautiful,” they said. “You should be proud.”

He supposed his mother was beautiful. She looked like a queen, sitting apart from the guests with his stepfather. Occasionally, she would laugh and kiss his stepfather’s cheek.

His stepfather seemed too ordinary. Slightly fat, with brown hair and a scruffy beard. Haruno wondered what his mother saw in the man, if anything besides his money. He supposed it didn’t matter so long as he was kind and treated them both well.

And that turned out to be the case, whenever his mother was around. His stepfather was all smiles, drawing Haruno up on his lap, telling him stories and bringing him trinkets from around the colony ship. He liked to hoist Haruno up on his shoulders so he could look out the bay windows and marvel at the stars. It made his mother happy, seeing her husband get along with her sullen little boy.

But as with a lot of things, Haruno’s mother didn’t know the whole story. She didn’t know that his stepfather’s face changed when she was gone. He was gruffer. More snappish. Always getting annoyed. He didn’t like the way Haruno looked at him, didn’t like how he was so quiet all the time. Haruno tried to keep out of his way, but sometimes just a glance would be enough to set him off.

“You think you’re smarter than me? You think you study me like I’m a damn lab rat? Why don’t you talk? What the hell’s wrong with you?”

The belt would come off then. The fact that Haruno never cried only infuriated his stepfather further.

Haruno came very close to telling his mother. He waited at her door, the words on the tip of his tongue. Sometimes his back would still be throbbing. But then she would yank open the door, her face pinched, her makeup half-wiped off. “What?” she would snap, and it would take all of the steam out of Haruno.

He couldn’t tell his mother. She would never believe him. Not when his stepfather acted like a model husband and father in her presence. She had married the man, and despite everything, Haruno still wanted her to be happy. She’d already lost Haruno’s father, wherever he was. He couldn’t imagine what she would be like if she lost his stepfather too.

So Haruno suffered in silence. He was still just a child, solemn as he was. It became so that even away from home, Haruno couldn’t catch a break. The other children on the ship colony bullied him relentlessly, the pale, silent child with wide eyes. He was easy picking. He was small, never fought back, didn’t have any friends. He practically invited torment.

It was miserable, not having anyone in his corner. Haruno often wondered what would happen if he opened one of the emergency exits and just stepped out into space.

Nothing probably. No one would care if he died. Everyone would be better off.

The yawning chasm of space beckoned him everyday that went by. Leaving all of this behind sounded lovely. He had a feeling nothing good would come from him continuing like this. He resolved to himself that he would open an escape pod tomorrow. Ignore the blaring alarms and steer it out into space, riding in it until the oxygen ran out or space grew tired of him. There was no one to say goodbye to. It would be easy.

Unless there was divine intervention, Haruno would die tomorrow.

Haruno’s impatience took him by surprise. He stole out of his apartment before the morning lights of the ship were on, not wanting to face his mother or stepfather. He’d memorized the route to the escape pods by now and found them quickly. He would have to throw the alarm before the pods were released. Hopefully he’d be gone before the ship crew came to stop him.

He touched the pod door and it hissed open. All he needed to do was pull the alarm and then hop into the pod. Easy.

His hand hovered over the emergency alarm. He lowered his hand—

—then flinched at the sound of footsteps. Someone was coming.

He had lied to himself. His heart shot up to his throat and panic spread throughout his body. He couldn't do this if someone saw him. They would take him away, tell his stepfather. He was already backing away from the escape pods when heavy footsteps rounded the corner and a man lurched into view. He was swaddled in a dark coat and hat, moving like he was injured.

Haruno felt frozen to the spot. His eyes widened as the man stumbled right up to him. Blood was trickling from a corner of his mouth. His grey eyes flashed, and he reached out before his knees buckled and he fell half inside the escape pod.

Haruno’s heartbeat was frantic. He heard more footsteps approaching—an entire group this time. Were they chasing after this man?

Without thinking too much about it, Haruno did his best to drag the man fully inside the pod. He was heavy, but his coat made it easier to drag him across the floor. As quickly as he could, Haruno stepped over him and closed the pod door.

A few moments later, a group of men ran past Haruno. They were all large, well-built. One of them stopped next to Haruno, his head swivelling around.

“Oi, kid, have you seen anyone pass by here just now? Grey eyes? Black coat?”

Haruno willed himself not to look at the pod. He raised his arm, pointing in the opposite direction. “He went down there.”

“How’s that flackbag so fast?” The other man went in the other direction without asking anything else. Haruno almost couldn't believe his lie had worked. He waited until the sound of footsteps had faded completely before peeking inside of the pod.

The man was still on the floor. Haruno didn’t see much he could do about that. Once he came to, he would leave on his own.

Even though he hadn’t been planning to, Haruno went back to his apartment.

Maybe it wasn’t divine intervention, but it was some kind of intervention. Things changed after Haruno hid that man in the escape pod. Suddenly, children thought twice before teasing him, going so far as to invite him to play with them and come over to their apartments. His stepfather became wary around him. He suffered no more beatings by his hand, and one day, he disappeared completely.

That was around the time his mother started spending more time at home. She started taking more of an interest in Haruno, asking about his day and taking him around the colony ship. She was still flippant and their interactions were awkward, but it was an improvement over what they’d had before. She didn’t seem sad at all when his stepfather left. Didn’t even notice, it seemed like.

Life was no longer miserable. All at once, it was almost … pleasant.

The change was gradual. It was hard to say what it was. Only that it happened. As he entered adolescence, he grew brighter, more effervescent. His dark hair lightened into a soft gold, and his somber eyes became two crystal pools. Haruno became beautiful. Both within and without.

Perhaps the clearest marker that something had changed came when Haruno was fourteen. He’d come home from school, still smelling of sweets from the gaggle of girls that hung around him. He found their attention off-putting, simply because he’d never experienced it before. That anyone at all could like him was baffling.

He’d stopped by the colony garden, as he often did. These days, something about the green space called to him, incongruous as it was against the void of space and the chrome of the ship. He loved that they were able to grow things even here. He loved that there was soil and young green sprouts and bright, blooming flowers.

He stopped at the empty pots of soil waiting for seeds. He pushed his hand into one of the pots, enjoying the feel of soil sifting through his fingers. If only he could make a plant grow right in front of him, like one of those time-lapse holograms. Maybe he’d try to grow his own plant one day to see how it went.

Haruno felt something prickling along his hand. When he looked down, a different hand seemed superimposed over his own, one that was physically the same but golden in colour. An aura rippled around it, green and flickering. It was gone a moment later, leaving Haruno to wonder if he was seeing things.

He withdrew his hand from the pot and brushed off the soil. As he did so, something stirred in the pot and a moment later, a sprout burst forth, startlingly green.

He flinched. Looked around furtively. Had someone already planted something in these pots? How had a plant grown so quickly? It was almost as though …

As though Haruno had made the plant himself. Made it grow without a seed.

He went to yank out the sprout, then thought better of it and placed the pot closer to the artificial lighting shelves. Then he quickly ducked out of the garden. His heart thrummed a nervous beat as he went.

He had made that plant grow. Somehow. It was both terrifying and thrilling to think about.

He hurried back to his apartment. There, he found his mother waiting for him, along with a young man with grey eyes. His hair was two colours, his darker roots showing through the blonde dye job.

Haruno felt a jolt of familiarity.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” the man said, smiling. “I have wonderful news for both you and your mother. I expect it will change everything.”

Haruno perched warily next to his mother. She took his arm—something she’d never done before.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I’m a representative of the Imperial Family,” the man said. “Recently, the Emperor has made an effort to search for possible blood relatives of the family. As you know, that’s how he found the recent Prince Ungalo.”

A fairytale, his mother had called it. A lost prince, found.

“We have reason to believe that you are a direct descendant of the Emperor, Haruno. Your blood records show a very likely match.”

Haruno glanced at his mother. He supposed it was possible that she might have spent time with the Emperor fourteen years ago.

His mother squealed and wrapped her arms around him. “You’re a royal, darling,” she gushed. “I just knew it. I knew you were special.”

Haruno didn’t feel as excited as he should have. It was too much at once. Haruno. A Prince of the galaxy.

“We’ll be making arrangements,” the young man said, his smile unchanged. “You will move to the Palaceship and meet the Emperor. Then, preparations will be made to crown you as a Prince.”

“You’re sure about this?” Haruno couldn’t help asking. “This isn’t some kind of mistake?”

The young man’s smile turned mocking. “With all due respect, Your Highness, have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re the spitting image of the Emperor himself.”

The blonde hair. The turquoise eyes. How was something like that possible when he’d looked so drastically different as a child?

“The Emperor informed me that you will no longer be Haruno,” the young man said. “Your name will be changed.”

And just like that, Haruno’s entire identity slipped out from under him. He was no longer a miserable, colony ship child with no father and more friends than bullies. He was now an Imperial Prince, fourth in line to the Imperial throne.

He was now a boy who could make life unfurl from his fingers.

He was now Giorno Giovanna. A prince of the day.

It was revealed that two soldiers would accompany Giorno and his mother to the Palaceship. A jet had been sent for them, and it would only be a short trip to the Palaceship. Neither Giorno nor his mother brought anything with them as they boarded the ship. Nothing seemed appropriate.

His mother had only grown haughtier after the news of Giorno’s true father was established. She considered herself part royalty now and made sure everyone knew it. Giorno, for his part, wasn’t enjoying things the way his mother was. He was worried more than anything. He didn’t know the first thing about being a prince. They would probably eat him alive at court.

One of the guards had gone into the cockpit with the pilot. The other sat opposite Giorno and his mother. A cap sat low over his eyes, but Giorno could still tell he was studying them. He wasn’t too tall but had a lean physique. A holster sat easily on his hip. His mother kept glaring at him.

The ride was over before it started. As the jet touched down on the Palaceship, the guard directed Giorno and his mother to put on the space suits on the side, explaining that they would need the protection from the Palaceship’s exposed deck.

As Giorno was shrugging into his space suit, there came a loud bang from the cockpit. The guard’s hand went to his elector.

“Everything alright?” he called.

The cockpit door slammed open, and the other guard and the pilot fell out, struggling furiously against each other.

“He has a gun!” the other guard cried.

Giorno’s insides curdled. He took a few steps back, staring at the man the other guard was struggling with. Blonde hair with darker roots. Familiar.

The man managed to get his arm out, catching the guard’s nose and breaking it. He aimed an elector at Giorno. No, not an elector. An Old-World weapon. A gun.

“Get the prince outside!” the other guard shouted.

The capped guard shoved Giorno and his mother to the ground. The gunshot was deafening.

“We need to go!” Giorno’s mother shrieked.

“If I open the door, the pressure will kill them!” the capped guard told his partner. “Neither of them have their suits on!”

“Get him outside!”

The pilot raised the gun again. Giorno covered his ears. What the capped guard said next was muffled. In the corner of his vision, Giorno thought he saw tiny yellow things zipping around. Too fast to see.

The pilot managed to get a bullet through the other guard’s arm. Giorno lurched away, his ears ringing. He heard scuffling, and when he looked back, the guard somehow had the revolver in their hands.

A bang. The pilot slumped to the ground.

Giorno’s mother wailed. Numbly, Giorno pulled her to him, rubbing her back. What had just happened? He stared at the two guards, one huddled over the other. Then he looked over at the pilot. Unmoving.

He could’ve died just now. Someone had just tried to take his life.

What had just happened?

The details of the attack were swept neatly under the rug. Giorno wasn’t told more than he needed to know. The pilot was an anti-royalist. The gunshot had not been fatal. He was awaiting trial. He actually had to ask to be informed about the two guards. They were both recovering. They would be aptly rewarded and sent on their way.

Giorno didn’t see his mother again after that first day in the Palaceship. He knew she was around, but their lives simply didn’t need to intersect anymore, and so they didn’t. It suited both of them fine. His mother was escorted one way, and he the other. He took everything in, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. The Palaceship didn’t look like a ship at all. Its interior perfectly resembled the ornate, gilded palaces of old, marble and gold and cream. It was easy to forget they were on a ship floating through space.

An entire team of people prepared Giorno for the meeting with his father. His hair was slicked back, and makeup applied to his face. He was told to put on a perfectly tailored suit, deep navy to offset his eyes and hair. A crest was pinned to his lapel--that of the Imperial Family. When he looked in his reflection, he hardly recognized himself.

He focused more on the quiet taps his leather shoes made on the floor than where they were going. The hallways on the Palaceship seemed endless; all of the rooms sprawling and vast. How was anyone supposed to find their way around?

Eventually, they arrived at the throne room. It was grand. Imposing. Dramatic. Polished lacquer floors and tall marble columns framed the Emperor’s throne. The lighting was gold, making the curtains behind on the far wall look blood-red.

Aside from the various guards and attendants, there were only four people in the room to greet Giorno. The Emperor and the three current Imperial Princes.

The Emperor smiled when Giorno stopped in front of him. He was just as beautiful as the holo-casts made him out to be. His canines were strangely sharp.

“Welcome. I’ve been waiting to meet you, Giorno.”

Giorno searched for some hint of himself in the Emperor’s face. What was it that tethered the two of them as father and son? Maybe it was their eyes. The Emperor’s eyes were a bright amber, but the tapered corners, the shape, seemed familiar.

Giorno bowed deeply. “It is an honour, Your Majesty.”

The Emperor gestured the other princes forward. One by one, they introduced themselves.

Ungalo had a flat face and small eyes. His greeting was curt. He was currently lieutenant general in one of the Imperial armies, and did not look happy to be called away just for this.

Rikkiel’s long face seemed sly. He said he was pleased to meet Giorno, which seemed to be a lie. Nothing else was offered about him, so Giorno assumed there was nothing else noteworthy.

Donatello, out of all the brothers, seemed to resemble the Emperor the most. If not in appearance, then in attitude. He was haughty and arrogant. He carried himself the way his title suggested. He was the Crown Prince, heir to the galaxy. He sneered down his nose at Giorno. It was obvious they would not get along.

Giorno greeted all of his brothers respectfully, using their full name and title. He felt no kinship with any of these men. They were supposedly his family, but couldn’t be farther from the truth.

That night, in his new quarters aboard the Palaceship, Giorno found himself wanting to go back to his apartment on the colony ship.

He found he did not want to be here in the slightest.

Giorno learned a lot that first year as an Imperial Prince. He learned how to navigate court life, hide his feelings beneath a veneer, be rude and snide and patronizing while still appearing cordial. Politics seemed to come easily to him. The complexities of management and ruling were less than a set of rules to be followed. He understood quickly that things were complicated just for appearances. He did very well in his studies and impressed everyone he was presented to. Very quickly, he dispelled all doubt that he was a son of the Emperor.

The lesson he liked the most was the one his tutor gave him one day about repeating himself.

“Never repeat yourself, Your Highness,” the tutor sniffed. “It is a waste of time on your part and utterly useless. If whoever you spoke to was not listening, that is their fault, not yours.”

It was a revolutionary idea. Giorno resolved to live by it. It would help him be more direct and less apologetic. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it was completely correct. Anything spoken more than once was a waste of time.

Navigating his family proved to be more difficult. Each member of the Imperial Family required a different approach.

Ungalo was rarely aboard the Palaceship. He was more at home on foreign colonies, overseeing military operations and Imperial advancements. When he was aboard, all Giorno had to do was ask him about the military and that would be enough.

Donatello did not change after that initial meeting. Giorno kept out of his way as much as he could. When they did meet, Giorno went along with everything he said. He made himself appear naïve and compliant. Too boring and bland to be a target.

Rikkiel, once Giorno got to know him, was the most agreeable of all the brothers. At times, he was even more withdrawn than Giorno. The two of them developed a student and mentor relationship. Or something close to it. In his way, Rikkiel tried to take Giorno under his wing. He kept to himself, and encouraged Giorno to do the same.

Giorno only saw the Emperor in mandated, sanctioned environments. Meetings. Banquets. Debriefings. Their interactions were brisk and professional. He was never Giorno’s father. Only the Emperor.

Overtime, Giorno noticed the chinks in the Imperial Familie’s shining façade. All was not quite well. The Emperor was distant. Hands-off. He allowed the galaxy to be run by his advisors and diplomats. He was only interested in the glittering balls and beautiful women.

The Crown Prince, meanwhile, was cruel. It was unfathomable to him that anything could go a way that wasn’t his own. He did not care about the people. Did not care about his duties. He worked on his fashion, and when he didn’t do that, he tormented others. Somehow, he thought that made him a worthy heir.

Giorno worked hard in the face of this. He threw himself into charity work, diplomacy, and humanitarian efforts. He spoke his mind on the council and listened to people when they came to him. He tried to offer solutions. Alternatives. The galaxy was vast, but Giorno was determined to do right by it. He felt that was why he had been saved twice by the galaxy. Once at the escape pods and again from the pilot. His duty was to serve, and serve he would.

In secret, he developed his Stand ability. He researched extensively, finding only obscure articles about the phenomenon. He discovered that the ability allowed him to infuse life energy into inanimate material. Plants without seeds. It could potentially be extended to organic cells too. He might be able to heal injuries. Repair wounds.

But for all of his efforts, there was only so much he could do. He was an Imperial Prince, but he wasn’t the Imperial Prince. There were still times when people, circumstances, policy barred his way. We understand, Your Highness, but you do not have the authority for that. Only the Emperor or Crown Prince can allow that.

It was maddening. Him without the authority. Donatello and the Emperor without the motive. There was little he could do without either of their say-so. He sent up appeal after appeal, but they always came back, unanswered. They ignored him. Wrote off his endeavours as useless. They were content to lie back and let the galaxy flail and didn’t see why Giorno couldn’t do the same.

Giorno was tired of it. It was obvious they were not going to listen to him.

He hated to repeat himself.

Giorno did not fidget as he waited outside of the Emperor’s office. On the outside, he was calm and collected. Completely in control. How he felt inside did not matter. It was not what he would be showing to the Emperor.

An attendant opened the door and bid him enter. Giorno waited until he left before turning to stand in front of the Emperor’s desk. He waited to be addressed before speaking.

The Emperor folded his hands on his desk. He seemed amused and it irritated Giorno.

“You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You may proceed.”

Giorno did not hesitate. “Make me the Crown Prince.”

The Emperor’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. He let out a single laugh.

“I didn’t take you for the joking type, Giorno.”

“I’m not joking, Your Majesty. This is a genuine request. I believe it will benefit both you and the galaxy if I am made the Crown Prince. I am tired of having my requests for aid ignored. If neither you nor Donatello want to help me, I will do it myself.”

Giorno set his jaw. His heart was beating too loudly.

The Emperor smiled at Giorno the way you smiled at a dog being cute. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking.”

“I’m well aware. I wouldn’t have brought this matter to you if I hadn’t thought about it closely.” Giorno hadn’t addressed the Emperor properly that time. He didn’t care.

“If you make me the Crown Prince, you will be doing a good deed for both the galaxy and your own reputation. As lax as you are, it shouldn’t escape your notice how unfit Donatello is to rule. He is lazy, selfish and self-centered. He has no interest in politics or working with others. If left under him, the galaxy will crumple.

“By naming me as the heir, you will show the people that you understand how negatively Donatello affects them. You have considered the alternatives and deemed myself the best heir. You show that you believe ruling is a matter of capability, not hierarchy. You recognize one son’s hard efforts and reprimand the other’s sloppiness in the same breath. You would put Donatello in his place. Remind him what it means to take his position for granted.”

The Emperor’s eyes gleamed. “You truly believe you would make the best heir?”

“I do. In fact, I know it. And I think you do, as well.”

Giorno wasn’t sure what happened. One minute, the Emperor was sitting behind his desk. The next, he was standing beside Giorno, looming over his shoulder. He had moved so fast Giorno hadn’t seen it. Inhumanly fast.

“I wondered about you, you know. With the others, I didn’t doubt that they were my sons. But with you, I had a harder time. You didn’t seem to resemble me at all.”

He echoed Giorno’s thoughts exactly. He had felt no connection at all to this man. It had disappointed him.

“Has that changed?” Giorno asked.

The Emperor tilted his head. He lay a heavy hand on Giorno's shoulder and he nearly stumbled. “It remains to be seen. I will make you the Crown Prince. You made a compelling argument, I’ll give you that; however, unlike Donatello, I will be expecting perfection from you. If you fail in any way, at any point, you will be cast out of the Imperial Family. That is the price you pay for ascending in rank.”

“I’m willing to pay it,” Giorno said.

“So be it,” the Emperor said. He narrowed his eyes. “Never forget that you were the one who asked for this.”

Giorno nodded.

“I will make arrangements. You’re free to go.”

And so he did, suddenly that much closer to the throne.

As expected, there was little opposition to Giorno’s rise in rank. People were relieved. They praised the Emperor’s wisdom and foresight and congratulated Giorno on his hard work and tenacity. There was no formal ceremony, but word spread quickly, and soon, the only thing anyone could talk about was that Giorno had succeeded Donatello as Crown Prince.

He received a perfunctory congratulation note from Ungalo—an automated one it seemed like. Rikkiel gifted him a pair of earrings and a small smile. His mother, although she didn’t visit, granted the media many interviews expressing how proud she was of her son.

Giorno waited for Donatello to retaliate. He might not have taken being the heir seriously, but knowing his pride, he wouldn’t take this lying down. He wouldn’t put it past the former heir to threaten him with bodily harm, if he didn’t kill Giorno outright.

The former heir did none of those things. Instead, he seemingly vanished. It put Giorno at ease somewhat. Donatello being gone made things easier.

Giorno threw himself into his work. Things became easier when you were the Crown Prince. People became easier. People weren’t as likely to act condescending or sarcastic when Giorno offered his opinions now. They actually took him seriously, and Giorno hadn’t realized how much of a difference that would make.

Giorno had a few goals in mind; some more feasible than others. The goal to eradicate all recreational drugs in the galaxy provided a nice cover for what he was really focused on. In his research regarding Stand abilities, he had come across rumours of what people called the “Stand Arrow”. It had a fascinating history on Earth, and if rumours were to be believed, could grant immense power to whoever wielded it. It was Giorno’s ultimate goal to retrieve the arrow and act as its guardian. He didn’t trust anyone else not to abuse it, and perhaps it was arrogant, but he truly believed he and his Stand would be able to handle its power.

In any case, it would be worth it to conduct further studies on the Arrow. Now that he was the Crown Prince, he could bring up the phenomenon of Stands without fear of being ridiculed. He found it hard to believe that he could be the only person in the galaxy with such an ability.

After months of searching, Giorno finally got the breakthrough he needed. There was a supercomputer somewhere out there with extensive information on how to locate the Stand Arrow and its current guardian. It had been released intentionally, it seemed like, and all Giorno needed to do was find it. With this in mind, Giorno proposed a four-month long excursion for himself and a trusted crew about the Eos, ostensibly to target drug use and help victims find support and healing.

The mission was approved. Giorno’s ratings shot through the roof.

He had told the Emperor he would not fail, and so he wouldn’t.

Giorno received a summons from Donatello just a few hours before the Eos’ scheduled departure. It was an insult. That much was clear. As Crown Prince, Donatello had no right to summon him, only request.

Giorno debated whether or not to go. It would be easy enough to ignore the summons; he doubted Donatello had anything useful to tell him. But he was curious. He hadn’t heard from Donatello at all these last few months and now he was suddenly back.

Giorno accepted. His holopad directed him to Donatello’s personal quarters.

Donatello’s rooms were already open when Giorno arrived. He entered cautiously, not quite sure what to expect. It was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the windows on the far wall.

It was quiet. Expectantly quiet.

Giorno’s eyes darted to the side. At the same time, someone yanked on his braid, forcing his head back and making him stumble. He didn’t have time to recover before someone had him pinned against the wall, an elector under his chin.

“What are you doing?” Giorno hissed at Donatello. The former heir’s eyes glinted in the gloom.

“I should kill you,” he seethed. “You have quite the nerve, waltzing in and usurping me. What makes you think I would allow that?”

“I didn’t usurp anyone. I spoke to the Emperor. The council voted. There was no force or illegality involved.”

“On what grounds?” Donatello pressed closer, harder against Giorno’s throat. “You have no claim to the throne. I’m the eldest, not you.”

“You were a despicable heir,” Giorno spat, and Donatello flinched. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself. You abuse those who serve you and crush those less than you. You don’t deserve to be Crown Prince.”

“I had every right to act the way I did. Those who aren’t powerful enough are crushed. It’s the only way the galaxy can advance.”

“Who gave you the right to decide that? If you’re stronger than others, you have an obligation to protect them. You should be lifting people up, otherwise you’ll turn around one day and realize that no one is behind you.”

Donatello snarled, “You flacking—” but Gold Experience emerged then, and delivered a powerful blow to his stomach.

The prince was lifted off his feet and sent crashing to the ground a few feet away. Giorno got to his feet, rubbing his neck gingerly. He knew from experimenting that Donatello would be incapacitated for a while. He was likely having an out-of-body experience right now from the influx of life energy Giorno’s Stand had just dealt him.

“I might not have been for it, but that doesn’t change that I am now the Crown Prince,” Giorno said, standing over Donatello’s crumpled body. “You had your chance. You wasted it. You of all people should have been prepared to defend your position, knowing how cutthroat and bloodthirsty the court is. It’s your own fault you underestimated me.” He set his jaw. “Don’t come near me again, Donatello. I outrank you now. If you stand in my way, I will not hesitate to put you in your place. I have a dream, and I intend to see it through.”

Giorno distantly wondered if Donatello was able to see the aura rippling around Giorno’s body, or his Stand hovering over his shoulder. Not that it would change things. He suspected Donatello would be afraid either way.

“I don’t want to make an enemy out of you, Donatello. Keep to your path, and I’ll keep to mine. That’s all I ask.”

Giorno withdrew his Stand. He crossed the room to the Donatello’s mirror hanging on the wall and straightened out his hair and clothes. Then he left the room, the doors sliding shut behind him. He strode all the way to the Palaceship’s dock, where the magnificent Eos was waiting for him.

He had given himself four months to find the Stand Arrow. He would make it happen. He couldn’t risk people like Donatello getting their hands on it. Abusing it. Purging the weak.

Giorno stepped onto the Eos. He made a silent oath to the stars as he made his way to the navigation bridge.

I, Giorno Giovanna, will find the Stand Arrow and protect it with my life.

No matter what happens, I swear it.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

#kismetva #jjba #jjba x reader #jjba fanfic #golden wind #golden wind x reader #vento aureo #vento aureo x reader #gender neutral reader #sci fi au

4 notes · View notes

cophene · 1 month

Text

014 | golden ginko leaves.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

Y/N: they cancelled :’)

KARERA: ?

YASUHO: what happened?

JOSUKE: all of them? Didn’t you have 5 dates?

Y/N: Yeah. Apparently none of them can make it

JOSHU: And this is a bad thing how? This just means you should go out with me like i’ve been saying

KARERA: Shut up. Why’d they cancel though?

JOSHU: Because they were never serious to begin with Unlike me. I’m always 100%

DAIYA: Aww, that’s so sad. y/n are you okay? Don’t cry, there’s still hundreds of people out thereIt is kinda hurtful tho >.< i’d literally cry

Y/N: I’m fine, just confused. Funeral, stomach bug, just got back with their ex, doesn’t remember who i am and ignored my messageIn that order for karera ^^

HATO: That’s actually some terrible luck. Even i’ve never been stood up that many times

DAIYA: Do you think it’s a sign? y/n will never find their true love T-T

YASUHO: If anything, it’s probably a sign that none of those people were y/n’s true love

JOSHU: And that they should ~go out with me~

JOSUKE: ^^ who added you to this chat?

JOSHU: I’m y/n’s fiancé i have a right to be here

JOSUKE: You actively discourage all of our efforts to find someone for y/n. That’s the opposite of what a fiance should be doing

DAIYA: He’s just being possessive kekeThe main interest has to get jealous or they never make their move >:)

YASUHO: 0_o

Y/N So what am i supposed to do now?

JOSHU:GoOut WithMe

KARERA: Goddamn relax. I swear

JOSHU: What happened to not throwing away options. At this point i’m your best option i dont know why youre mad

Y/N : …

JOSUKE: Was there anyone else you were interested in? It might be worth it to see if they could hang out for a little

KARERA: Josuke you sly dog :3

JOSUKE: ??

Y/N: Well. Oh wait, one of them did reply

DAIYA: Who? WHO?

Y/N: I’ll get back to you guys. We’re going to meet right now. Do any of you know where mutsukabe promenade is? It’s fine, i can figure it out

HATO: Ooh congrats. Looks like you found someone after all

DAIYA: Yayayay! So romantic im literally dying

KARERA: Hell yeah. Go get them casanova

YASUHO: Wait … Isn’t that

JOSUKE: Y/N don’t leave yetYou can’t go there. It’s dangerous

JOSHU: FUCK THAT’S SHAKEDOWN ROADYOU CANT GO THERE YOU’LL LOSE ALL YOUR MONEYARE YOU FUCKING LISTENING

KARERA: What the hell is shakedown road

JOSUKE: It’s hard to explain. they just can't go. Y/N stay where you are I'm coming to get you

JOSHU: Aye not you tryna steal my fiancé. THEY’RE MINE YOU HEAR? JOSUKE I MEAN IT LEAVE THEM ALONE I’LL GET THEM

DAIYA: awwww it’s just like the dramas <333

You didn’t know how long it had been since you’d left the villa. All you knew was that you were regretting not looking up where your date actually wanted to meet. Prospective date, really, since neither of you were sure if this could even be called a “date”.

Admittedly, through the blur of meeting dozens of people at the fruit parlour, you didn’t remember many faces. Everyone had begun to blur together after your fourth tart and sixth glass of melon juice. You felt incredibly guilty that you couldn’t put a face to the person who had texted you. You were sure you would recognize them when you saw them, but as of now, they were but a string of numbers.

The directions they had given you seemed simple enough and they assured you that it wasn’t far to walk. It wouldn’t have hurt to actually figure out where exactly Mutsukabe Promenade was, though. Daiya and Josuke might have mentioned it in passing but neither of them had actually taken you. You wondered why, considering a public walk seemed like the perfect place to bump into strangers and fall in love.

You had gotten annoyed with all of the notifications coming from the group text and muted the chat before you left. It was probably just everyone moaning and groaning over your love life.

After backtracking to the bus stop for the fourth time in a row, you gave up and approached one of the pedestrians on the street to ask for directions. There was an old man sitting on a bench before a pet shop, aquariums stacked behind him in the storefront. His little dog yawned, kicking up the gingko leaves around its feet. You realized this entire street was covered with them. Tall, spindly trees were planted every few feet. The distinctive leaves had turned a bright gold colour and they carpeted the pavement and street, swirling up in trails as people walked by.

“Good morning, sir,” you said. “I was wondering if you could tell me where Mutsukabe Promenade was?”

The old man blinked up at you. “No need. You’re already here.”

“Oh. I had no idea.” You looked around, wondering if you had missed a street sign somewhere.

“What are you looking for?”

“A friend. I'm supposed to meet him here.”

“How nice,” the old man leaned back, hiding his face under his green cap. “From here down until the next bend is the promenade. Your friend shouldn’t be far off.”

That was a relief. You’d been afraid the promenade would be on the other side of Morioh. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”

“My pleasure.”

You turned on your heel, ready to start down the walk when the old man cleared his throat.

“I sincerely apologize if I’m mistaken, but I believe you’ve stepped on something, yes?”

“Sorry?”

The old man tilted his head, his eyebrow raised. “My dog’s leash. You just stepped on it and snapped it.”

You glanced down at the dog. Even though you were sure it had been nowhere near you, the leash that had tied it to the bench was now in two pieces. The dog looked just as confused as you did.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know how that happened. I didn’t do anything to the leash.”

“I know you’re a tourist, but we expect visitors to be civil and courteous in Morioh,” the old man said pointedly. “I very clearly saw you snap my dog’s leash. Whatever I may have done to offend you, that was quite rude of you.”

“But I was walking away. I couldn’t have stepped on it.”

“And now you’re lying. I don’t know where you’re from, but we don’t look kindly upon dishonesty here.”

You gaped at the old man. Did he really think you had gone out of your way to snap his dog’s leash? Why would you even do that? All you had done was ask for directions.

“Sir, the leash must have snapped on its own or something. I swear I didn’t have anything to do with it. I really have to go.”

The dog barked loudly as you started to leave. You heard the sound of its paws skittering on the pavement, and a second later, you jumped out of the way as it barrelled past you.

“Now look at what you’ve done!” the old man shouted. “How am I supposed to catch that dog? If you break something, you have to take responsibility for it! Those are the rules!”

You swore under your breath and started to chase after the dog. You hadn’t taken more than a few steps, however, when the crunch of glass made you stop. You lifted your feet to find shards of glass littering the pavement and a trail of water leaking near your feet. When you looked back at the aquariums, you were shocked to find one of them had shattered, almost as though someone had thrown themselves at the tanks.

The old man scowled. “Not only have you snapped my dog’s leash and lost my dog, you’ve also broken one of my aquariums. Those aren’t cheap, you know. That particular one you broke is nearly 400 thousand yen.”

You could only stare. The immediate reaction was to protest, but there was a rip in your sleeve that hadn’t been there before.

The old man steepled his fingers. “You’re not thinking of running, are you? I’ve been around a long time. I’ll track you down no matter what.”

The commotion had attracted attention. People drifted towards you and the old man, murmuring suspiciously. A few goon-ish looking guys glared at you, their jaws clenched.

“Aye, you making trouble or something?” one of them sneered, jutting his chin out.

Your stomach flip-flopped, suddenly uncomfortable with the press of people. “What do you want me to do?” you asked the old man. “I’ll pay for the leash and the aquarium. Is that what you want?”

The old man sighed. “I suppose that’s the least you can do.”

With a glance around, you took out your wallet and withdrew a few banknotes. Shit. You didn’t have anywhere near 400 thousand yen. At least the crowd dispersed at the sight of your money.

“I only have 15 thousand on me,” you said quietly.

The old man peered at the banknotes, then snatched them from your hand. “Then you’ll just have to pay everyday until you get to 400 thousand, huh?” He flicked through the money quickly, heading back to the pet shop. If he cared that his dog was still missing, he didn’t show it.

When he disappeared inside, you quickly walked away. There was no way you would pay the rest of that. You’d just have to make sure not to come around here anymore. You tried to be more careful as you walked, keeping a careful eye out for everyone that passed by. You couldn’t wrap your head around what had happened. You were sure you hadn’t broken the aquarium or done anything to the leash. Could it have been the old man? A Stand ability? Or maybe he had just been after your money.

You scowled. You’d left the rest of your cash at home. Now if you found your date, they’d think you were stingy. If you’d been with Karera, she wouldn’t have let this happen. She probably would’ve used Love Love Deluxe to do something crazy and demand that the old man compensate you.

If only you still had access to the fortune. It was true that you didn’t know how good things were until you lost them. All you had on you now was your phone and … your bone dice.

You turned sharply back to the pet shop, dice clenched in your hand.

Joshu hated the sense of déjà vu he felt sprinting towards Shakedown Road. He and Josuke had this exact same thing when Daiya dragged Y/N to the shopping district. It was looking to be a shitty month if he had to chase after Y/N everytime they landed their ass in trouble.

And why the fuck did Josuke run so fast?

“Oi, is your ass on fire or something?” he wheezed at Josuke’s back. “They’re gonna lose a few yen, but Y/N isn’t gonna die there.”

Josuke wasn’t even out of breath, damn him. “Y/N doesn’t know about the extortion on Shakedown Road, so they’ll pay everyone they come across. If someone finds out Y/N’s fortune never runs out, they’ll just keep demanding money and never let them leave.”

Joshu didn’t deny it. If it had been him, he probably would have done that too.

“It won’t be that bad,” Joshu said instead. “They can afford to lose a few thousand yen.”

“Did you forget what happened the last time we went?”

“Yeah, I saved your ass.”

“You didn’t even think to tell me about the ginkgo leaves.”

“You figured it out, didn’t you? If an idiot like you can do it, I’m sure Y/N can too.”

Josuke didn’t give Joshu the satisfaction of a reaction. Joshu huffed, seeing little fans of gold speckle the ground. Here they were. The worst road in Morioh.

The pedestrians on the street all perked up as he and Josuke passed, but since both of them took care not to step on any ginkgo leaves, no one bothered them. Josuke went to call Y/N’s phone, his head swivelling every which way. Joshu didn’t waste his breath calling their name. He knew he’d find them eventually.

The thing about them was that they just attracted attention. In an understated way that was the opposite of how rich people usually acted. They were languid, blasé, but also attentive and curious. They were mellow, but not a pushover. Even after a week or two of talking to them, Joshu still couldn’t pin down what exactly made Y/N take up space the way they did.

If Joshu was being honest, he was probably thinking more about Y/N than he should have been. The comment about making Y/N fall in love had been pure, stupid impulse, and he’d tried multiple times after the fact to play it off as a joke. But his pride had a mind of its own, and every time he typed out the message, he had to delete it, because he was already too far in to back down. At this point, it was almost habit to reach for his phone as soon as he woke up to send Y/N an ironically sappy message about how he would win them over, and wait until after breakfast for a response sharp enough to cut glass. A rhythm settled between the two of them, a familiarity to his goading and their smartass remarks.

And sometimes, when Joshu drew back a little, Y/N would actually tell him things. About their family and their home. He teased the shit out of them for it, but actually, Joshu found it nice to learn more about the heir he’d picked up from the airport. The rich brat was now less of a brat and more of an acquaintance. A friend even.

Joshu told anyone who would listen he was only in it for the money. Y/N was an asshole. Who the hell would fall in love with them? He was chasing after them because he didn’t want them to die and take their fortune with them. If something happened to them, he’d lose his chances. If it weren’t for that—

—he wouldn’t care about them at all. Probably. Almost-definitely.

A blur in the corner of his Joshu’s eye was all he needed. It was Y/N, in the midst of what looked like a borderline brawl.

How surprising.

For a second, Joshu was about to let Josuke keep running ahead while he went to save Y/N. He didn’t need Josuke ruining his chances. But then a clamour went up among the crowd and Josuke whipped his head around.

Goddamnit.

“What’s happening?” Josuke said. He shielded his eyes with his hand, peering into the crowd. Joshu noticed he did that stupid pose a lot.

“They probably found out Y/N is filthy rich,” Joshu grumbled. He started forward. “A few unscrewed hands and elbows should break it up.”

Josuke grabbed his arm. “Wait. There’s already someone with them.”

“Who gives a shit? I still have to go in there and…” Joshu trailed off, eyes falling on the person beside Y/N. The back of his neck pricked uncomfortably.

Whoever he was, he couldn’t have been taller than Joshu, which gave him a morsel of satisfaction. Either he had a very round hairstyle or a very round hat with two swirls on either side that looked stupid either way. Joshu sneered at the ugly-ass floral pants and teddy bears hanging from each shoulder. Whoever this person was, their clothes were hideous as hell.

Joshu squinted, barely able to make out the guy’s blue-tinted lips moving. He slung an arm over Y/N, making Joshu’s jaw tighten, before flinging a careless hand at the crowd. He cocked his head as a teenager stepped forward, seeming to listen. Y/N shook his head emphatically when the guy looked at them, and this prompted him to shrug at the teenager. The crowd started up again, but the guy remained unruffled. He slipped his hand into his vest and took out a stack of banknotes. He counted out a few, his arm still over Y/N, then handed them over to the teenager. Joshu frowned as the crowd seemed to accept this. They dispersed as Y/N and the guy headed inside the grill they had been standing in front of.

“The hell just happened?”

“Looks like it got cleared up.” Josuke raised an eyebrow at him. “I guess we didn’t need to come out here at all.”

“Are you shitting me? That guy is suspicious as hell! How do you know he didn’t take Y/N inside to slit their throat and take all their money?”

“Because that’s what you’re going to do.” Josuke muttered, but Joshu pretended not to hear.

“Come on. There’s suspect people crawling all over Morioh. It’s gonna be on us if that guy’s a serial killer.”

Josuke reluctantly allowed Joshu to drag him inside the grill. It didn’t take long for them to find the booth Y/N and the guy were sitting at and position themselves at the optimal spying angle.

Joshu let Josuke order. Joshu was too preoccupied trying to look natural while trying not to miss a second that went by at Y/N’s booth. He had been there all day during that speed-dating thing his dad had set up. He was fully prepared to see the glaze of boredom steal over Y/N’s face, and laugh at the defeated slump of the guy’s shoulders as he slunk out. This guy with the ugly-ass hair would just be another unmemorable date, and Y/N would finally realize he was the one they should go out with.

An hour passed. Y/N didn’t leave and neither did the guy. Joshu felt more confused than anything as the reservation on Y/N’s face melted into curiosity and then outright delight. The entire time, the guy’s face remained softly expectant, attentive but not too eager. His blue-tinted lips would pull into a smile, and with every laugh he coaxed out of Y/N, Joshu’s stomach twisted.

Y/N liked this guy. Way more than any of the people they’d met at the fruit parlour.

At some point, Josuke stopped watching Y/N altogether and focused on finishing his food. Joshu hadn’t even touched his chicken wings.

“How are you not more upset about this?” Joshu hissed.

Josuke glanced at Y/N. His gaze lingered, but he didn’t look overly concerned. “Why would I be upset? It looks like they’re hitting it off. That’s a good thing, right?”

“But he’s a scumbag! Who the hell would ask their date to meet them at fucking Shakedown Road?”

“It is kind of weird, but they’re fine, aren’t they?”

Joshu hated how calm Josuke seemed. This guy was competition. Joshu could handle Josuke, but what could he do against someone he’d never met?

Joshu got to his feet. “Where are you going?” Josuke asked.

“I don’t care how nice he looks. My gut is just screaming that he’s bad news.”

“Don’t.”

Joshu marched over to their booth. Y/N and the guy were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn’t notice him until he was right up against their table.

“Hey, asshole, what do you think you’re doing?”

The guy and Y/N blinked up at Joshu. Y/N’s face instantly shuttered.

“Joshu, what are you doing here?”

“You’re from Morioh, aren’t you?” Joshu jabbed his finger at the guy’s face. His thick eyebrows climbed his forehead. “How stupid do you have to be to invite your date to Shakedown Road? Everyone knows you get your money stolen from you here.”

“Joshu, can you leave us alone?”

“I admit that was my bad,” the guy said. Joshu instantly hated his voice. “It slipped my mind. I forgot that tourists don’t know about this road. But this grill is one of my favourites, so I had to bring them.”

“Yeah, right,” Joshu sneered. “You were in on it, same as everyone on this damn street. You were trying to extort all of Y/N’s money. Taking advantage of the fact that they didn’t know about the gingko leaves.”

The guy ducked his head. “I can be a little spacey. I apologize.”

“Joshu, leave it,” Y/N said through their teeth. “We already cleared this up.”

“I thought you’d be smarter than this,” Joshu said. “You just met this guy, why do you trust him already?”

“I’m sorry about him,” Y/N said to the guy, and Joshu could have screamed.

“Friend of yours?”

“I guess so. You can get going if you’re busy. I’ll handle the bill.”

“Nice try,” the guy said, snatching the bill from Y/N. “I know you already gave up all your money. I’ll handle the bill.”

Y/N smiled and Joshu balked at how shy it looked. “Talk to you later?”

“Of course. It was nice meeting you. I’d walk you home, but your friend looks like he wants to talk to you.”

Y/N got to their feet, still smiling. The smile dropped as soon as they were outside the grill. Y/N waved weakly at Josuke before glowering at Joshu.

“What do you want, Joshu? You told me you wanted me to fall in love with you. Were you being serious? Because if you are, do something. Don’t keep following me around and sending me texts and crashing my dates unless you actually want something to happen.”

Josuke started to speak but Y/N stopped him. They kept their gaze on Joshu, their mouth set in a tight line.

It felt like Joshu’s mouth moved by itself. “I don’t say things I don’t mean. Go out with me. Tomorrow. I’ll show you just how serious I am.”

Y/N looked surprised, then grimly satisfied.

“Fine then.”

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

#okoshijjl #jjba #jjba x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jojolion #jojolion x reader #gender neutral reader

5 notes · View notes

cophene · 1 month

Text

036 || ☆ ⁺ « HAVE A MINUTE TO TALK.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

★˚⋆ GIORNO HAD TAKEN BRUNO’S OLD ROOM, so you drifted to the galley to get away from everyone. You wanted to sleep, but after closing your eyes and watching dark swirls on the back of your eyelids, you realized that wouldn’t be possible.

The Stand Arrow had to get to Zero. There could be no compromise on that. You didn’t know what it was, but a part of you felt like it would fall apart if that wasn’t the case. You had already struggled, lost, done so much. For all of that to go to waste was unthinkable. You didn’t care who it was, if anyone went against you on that, you wouldn’t hesitate to hurt them.

Your chest throbbed now with the want.

Get the Arrow to Zero.

Don’t wait. Don’t let anyone get in your way.

All you wanted was to stab Chariot Requiem in the neck and get the Arrow. It didn’t matter that you were in Bruno’s body. It didn’t matter that Narancia was in danger or that Fugo had betrayed you. Zero needed the Arrow and you had to get to him.

There was no choice.

You had to do all of this by yourself. You couldn’t wait anymore. The minute Zero made contact with you, you would just grab the Arrow and run to him.

You rested your head on the cool metal of the table.

What is wrong with me? Why am I thinking like this? This was supposed to be simple.

That was a lie. You knew as soon as you thought it. No matter what Zero could have asked you to steal, you would’ve done it. Maybe not for the money, but just to prove that you could.

You felt weak and pathetic. None of this was going the way it was supposed to. You had never thought there would come a time when you felt like you were incapable of doing something.

What if there’s no way to reverse Chariot Requiem’s ability? What if we’re stuck like this forever?

It wouldn’t be too bad for you. Bruno’s body was an excellent one to get trapped in. It was Bruno who would be struggling in yours.

Maybe when you got back to your body, it wouldn’t feel like yours anymore. It would feel alien. Like a sock you hadn’t seen in forever and realized you don’t want to wear anymore.

“Bruno? Do you mind if I talk to you?”

A jolt of alarm knifed your chest. You looked up to see Fugo walking into the galley and settling into the seat opposite you. This would be the first time you had to talk to someone as Bruno himself. And to the most perceptive, astute member of Passione, no less.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. You hoped you were manifesting Bruno properly, his gentle concern, his pragmatism, his lack of judgement. If anyone would be able to tell you weren’t Bruno, he was sitting in front of you.

Fugo shoved a few strands of Abbacchio’s hair behind his ear, clearly unused to the length. “How are you holding up?” Fugo said, and you thought it was nice of him to ask. “This a lot, especially considering you just came back.”

You leaned back in your seat. “I’m dealing with it as well as anyone. Then again, I have it easy since I’m still in my body.”

“I still don’t understand that. You and the Captain were still in the ship. You mean to tell me Chariot Requiem can switch the souls of a human and an animal but not two people a few feet away? Not to mention when you were both right next to it.”

“I’m just going to take what I can get and not question it.”

“I suppose that’s fair.” Fugo propped his face up on his hands, his fingers massaging his temples. “This is all so much to deal with. Even for Passione.”

You tried to think of what Bruno did and didn’t know about this job so far. “Earlier, you said the entire crew had become different after accepting this job. What did you mean by that?”

“Don’t tell anyone I told you this, alright? The crew would just get upset. They don’t want to hear it, no matter what I say.”

You steeled yourself. “What is it?”

“When the crew went to see Zero, they were against the job. Even though we needed the money, they weren’t willing to do it after they learned what the Arrow was capable of. We were going to turn the job down. But then something happened, and they suddenly changed their minds. I think without us knowing, Zero placed everyone under his Stand’s ability.”

You bit back your denial. “And you aren’t under this influence?”

“I managed to break free somehow. I think Zero’s ability works in degrees. It doesn’t affect everyone in the same way. Its hold on me was the weakest. Its hold on the Captain is probably the strongest.”

“And no one is aware of this?”

“You saw how they reacted when I told them not to give the Arrow to Zero. The Stand affected their motivations somehow. Suddenly they love Zero more than anything.”

You were starting to get annoyed at Fugo, but you tried your best to hide it. “Is there any way to reverse it?”

“It’s either a remote-control Stand or it has effects that linger. I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”

Assuming you’re telling the truth. Zero would never use his Stand on us. He’s the most trustworthy man in the galaxy.

“Even if the Arrow doesn’t go to Zero, the crew will still be at risk,” you said. “He’ll still come after everyone if he doesn’t have the Arrow. If anything, he’ll just be more angry at the crew for going back on their word.”

“But Prince Rikiel can offer us protection,” Fugo said. “And now Prince Giorno is on our side too. There’s the possibility we could take down Zero if we accept their help.”

“Zero should be left alone,” you said tightly. “There’s no reason to get more involved than we already are.”

“I understand you want us to stay away from Zero, but we’re already involved. You don’t really think Zero will let us go unscathed after this job? He’s going to kill all of us, or else force us under his control. We’ll never be free again.”

You’re wrong. You don’t know Zero at all. Why would you say things like that?

You forced yourself to put on Bruno’s easy, placating smile. “I think you’re exaggerating things, Fugo.”

He scowled. That expression, at least, was familiar on Abbacchio’s face. “You of all people should know how dangerous Zero is. Or are you still under his influence?”

You didn’t react to that. “We won’t be able to get anywhere with Chariot Requiem still around.”

“I know. That was something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

“You have a way of defeating it?”

“No. But I do have a way of using it to our advantage. If we can lure Zero here, and someone else, Chariot Requiem will effectively deal with our problems for us. Zero will switch souls with someone else.”

“He’ll still have access to his Stand ability.”

“But someone else will be wearing his face. We’d be able to expose Zero’s identity. Put an end to his operations. And Zero we could have locked up somewhere. Maybe the Penitentiary that we escaped from.”

You hated that it sounded like a feasible plan. It was just that your conscience would never allow you to trick Zero in such a way. And besides, he didn’t deserve to be tricked.

“Do you really think that would work?” you asked.

“I’m still thinking it through. I was hoping you could give me any ideas you have.”

“If…” You had to pause as a wave of pain passed through your chest. Nonetheless, you soldiered on. “Do you think it’s possible Zero’s Stand ability will be called off once he gets the Arrow?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I’m just saying that if that’s the case, you’ll have a better chance of getting the rest of the crew on board with your plans.” The last part came out in a rush as your chest squeezed painfully. Fugo seemed not to notice, mulling your words over.

“I suppose it’s possible.”

“In that case, you should keep your plans to yourself. The crew won’t agree with anything you have to say, no matter what they think themselves.”

A tremor went through the galley as Chariot Requiem ambled its way inside. As with before, it didn’t react to your presence, merely brushing past your table with the Arrow still clenched in its fist. You tried to ignore it, and the visceral reaction seeing the Arrow conjured up.

“We could always have Chariot Requiem cross over to Zero’s ship and let him deal with it,” Fugo said offhandedly.

Looking at Chariot Requiem’s dark form, you had a sudden thought. “Fugo, what will happen if Prince Donatello boards the ship?”

It took a minute for Fugo to understand. “Presumably nothing, considering all of our souls have been switched. But we don’t know if that prevents us from being switched again.”

“Has Giorno spoken to Narancia? He should have at least a plan of what to do until our souls are switched back.” If ever.

“I’ll go check,” Fugo said, getting up to leave. “I didn’t even think about what might happen.”

You watched Fugo leave, worry a hard ball in the pit of your stomach. You were just about to go after him when someone different entered the galley.

“Oh, Bruno, I was just looking for you. Do you have a few minutes?”

Why was it that everyone wanted to talk to Bruno? You couldn’t help feeling a little insulted. He wasn’t the only one who could give good advice.

“What’s up, Mista?” you said, settling back in your seat.

“You are so lucky you didn’t switch souls with anyone,” he grumbled, taking especial care when sitting down. “I feel like I can’t do anything without Trish breathing down my neck.”

“You’ve been dealing with it pretty well, considering.”

“I like to think so too. Just as long as we switch back before I have to use the toilet. I’m not going there, and I’m sure Trish would agree.”

You smiled, and Mista grinned at you. Even on Trish’s face, it was clearly Mista’s rakish smile.

“Listen, I know this might not be the best time to talk about this, but I’ve been wanting to get something off of my chest.”

“Yeah?”

Mista took a second to think, looking down at Trish’s manicured fingers. “Flack, I don’t even know where to start.”

You felt a twinge of unease. You hoped Mista was alright. To be honest, he was the last person you had been thinking about, simply because you trusted him to take care of himself. You would feel incredibly guilty if it turned out he had been struggling with something without your knowing. “Wherever you’re comfortable with.”

“I guess I should just say it.” Mista screwed his eyes shut, a strangely childish gesture. “Iminlovewiththecaptainandidontknowwhethertotellthemornot,” he said, all in a rush.

Bruno would not react. He would not swear, not snort, not laugh. All he would allow himself was a slow eyebrow raise, which was what you did, even though you wanted more to scream instead.

“I don’t think I quite got that, Mista.”

Mista groaned, putting his face on the table and wrapping his hands over his head. “Don’t make me repeat it.”

“You’re … in love with the Captain?” Just saying the words out loud felt strange. You were trying to sort through your emotions while simultaneously figuring out how Bruno would have reacted to this. “Since when?”

“Since we first met? It’s been a while,” Mista said, his face still against the table.

Mista, in love with the Captain. Mista, in love with you.

“Is this supposed to be funny?” you said.

“No, it’s not a joke. I’m serious. One hundred percent.” Mista tilted his head slightly. “You are literally the only other person who knows. I’ve never told anyone until now.”

You could feel your heart pounding. If Bruno were here, what would he say? You had to stop staring at Mista, stop the blood that was rushing to your face.

“How do you feel about this?”

“Scared? Stupid?” Mista let out a laugh. “I don't know what to feel. I mean before, I didn’t feel that much pressure to tell the Captain how I felt. We always spent time together and I guess I took that for granted. I wanted to wait for the right moment. I didn’t want to force them into anything they weren’t ready for. But now, there’s this, and I’m starting to wonder if I shouldn’t have told them how I felt earlier. Maybe now, I won’t get the chance to.”

“I knew you cared about the Captain, but I never thought…” you trailed off.

“Of course I care about the Captain,” Mista said, finally raising his head. It was easier to see the flush on Trish’s face than on Mista’s. “It’s impossible not to. When we first met, I couldn’t get a read on them. But then we got to know each other better, and I got to see how selfless they are, how impulsive. They just care so much. They’re willing to do anything for the crew. They’re not afraid to take risks and they just throw themselves into everything. I love that about them. They make me want to be someone more like that.”

You had always known Mista cared about you. After Bruno had left, he had always been right beside you. He had been your first crew member. Your first friend after a screw-up had landed you in jail. You’d gotten used to his concern. Taken it for granted even.

Those long talks into the night.

Those quiet touches on your forearm, wordlessly acknowledging the scar he had been there for.

Those hugs that he gave without restraint, that provided you with an escape.

He knew your bad sides. He knew your history and your flaws and your stupid habits.

He was your best friend.

But was that all?

You looked at Mista, frustrated that it wasn’t his face or his voice you were hearing. It didn’t seem fair that such an intimate confession was taking place when neither of you were in your own bodies.

“Say something, Bucciarati. Tell me I’m not an idiot and that I didn’t just flack everything up.”

“You’re not an idiot and you didn’t flack anything up,” you said with a smile. “There’s nothing wrong with how you feel. It’s sweet, especially for you.”

“Now you’re making fun of me.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I can’t speak for the Captain’s feelings, but if we get through this, I think you should tell them what you told me. If nothing else, they’ll be grateful to have someone like you in their corner. Even if it’s not right away, I think they might feel the same about you in time.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“No. I really mean it.”

“You still actually give pretty damn good advice considering you’ve been away for so long. It’s like you never left.” Mista grinned. “Say, is all of this coming from experience? Did you meet someone back on Minos?”

“I would’ve told you if I had.”

“Fine, then. Keep your secrets.”

It took everything in you not to grin like an idiot. What would Mista say if he knew it was you he was talking to and not Bruno? You almost told him, just to see his reaction.

Mista was in love with you. Who would’ve thought? You were in disbelief. You wished you had a minute to process it all.

All you knew was that you didn’t mind it as much as you would’ve thought.

Mista’s holopad vibrated in his pocket. He brought it out, fumbling a bit with it since it wasn’t his.

“Mista, is Bruno with you?” Abbacchio’s voice floated out from the speakers. It was still strange to hear him speaking in Fugo’s Upper Space accent.

“Yeah. What’s going on?”

“Get down to the bay doors. Prince Donatello is here.”

Mista glanced at you, then darted out of the galley with you on his heels.

“He’s here already? He should’ve been a few more hours at least, right?”

“That’s what I thought, but he’s demanding to see everyone now.”

You took the stairs down to the bay two at a time, swearing internally. Donatello was already here. You had been hoping for a bit more time to at least meet back with everyone.

“We’re going to try to make sure he stays on the docking bridge,” Fugo said, still on call. “We don’t know what Chariot Requiem might do to him, so we won’t risk it. We can’t let him know what happened to us. If he’s suspicious, he’ll insist on boarding.”

“What about Narancia? Does he know what to do?” you asked.

“He’s wearing an earpiece. Prince Giorno told him not to speak unless absolutely necessary. He’ll be listening in as best he can when Narancia is with Donatello and feed him lines.”

“That’s not going to end well,” Mista muttered.

“You don’t have to tell me. It’s only a temporary solution until we deal with the Arrow and Chariot Requiem.”

You and Mista burst into the bay. Everyone else was already there, worried but doing their best to hide it. Prince Giorno was off to the side with Narancia, speaking to him intently. Narancia looked like he was barely processing anything.

Bruno caught your gaze. He’d changed his clothes, you realized with a start, and washed your face and straightened out your appearance. Maybe you should have felt indignant, but you were too pent-up to care.

“Don’t do anything to provoke the Prince,” Bruno was saying. “We need him to leave as soon as possible so we can get to Zero.”

“Is there really nothing we can do for Narancia?” Trish said. “We don’t know what’s going to happen to him on Donatello’s ship.”

“Considering they just found me, likely nothing,” Giorno spoke up. “He doesn’t want to make a spectacle. He won’t do anything to Narancia when Rikiel has already notified the Imperial palace of my return. You can trust Rikiel,” he said to Narancia. “He’s on your side.”

“He’s on the other side of the docking bridge,” Abbacchio said. “If we’re ready, I’ll open the gate.”

You just wanted to get this over with.

Bruno nodded curtly at him. The gates on either end of the docking bridge opened, and Bruno ducked inside, Narancia and Abbacchio behind him. Bruno was wearing your characteristically stubborn face. Narancia, despite his nerves, wore a neutral expression and kept his chin up. Abbacchio abandoned his military-straight posture for Fugo’s slight slouch.

It was amazing how they could impersonate other crew members like that. A chill went down your spine.

The bridge door closed behind them. Only the speakers on the console gave you any indication of what was happening.

“Your Highness, I apologize for the delay.”

“No words for your brother, Giorno? It’s been months since you died.”

“How did you find me?”

“Rikiel was hell bent on finding you, so you can thank him. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have bothered. You would have still been dead.”

“Is there anything else we can do for you, Your Highness?”

“No. You’ve already proven to be enough of a nuisance. Awfully quiet today, aren’t we Captain?”

“If that’s all, I bid you safe passage, Your Highness.”

“Indeed.”

“I’m sorry, but I just—I can’t do this. You’ve got the wrong guy! I’m not Prince Giorno! You can’t take me with you!”

“What’s wrong with you? It isn’t like you to be hysterical, Giorno.”

“Your Highness, please—”

“I’m serious, it’s not me! I’m not Giorno! You can’t take me! Please!”

“Stop this at once. I’ll tranquilize you if I have to, you fool. You disgrace yourself and the Emperor.”

“Oh, flack, please! Don’t take me! You can’t! You can’t—”

The audio cut out then. You thought you heard the opposite pair of doors slide shut on the dock bridge. Bruno and Abbacchio returned, both of their faces ashen.

Fugo closed his eyes and hissed out through his teeth, “That idiot.”

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

#kismetva #jjba #jjba x reader #jjba fanfic #golden wind #golden wind x reader #vento aureo #vento aureo x reader #gender neutral reader #sci fi au

5 notes · View notes

cophene · 1 month

Text

013 | strictly platonic apology.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

★ . . . YOUR BRAIN FELT LIKE IT was trying to beat out of your skull. You managed to turn your head, singing sweet praise to the gods when you found a glass of water on your nightstand. You finished it in one go.

The urge to go back to sleep was great, but like a personal demon, your mind immediately reminded you that you had a curse hanging over your head and did not have the liberty of spending a day sleeping in. You dragged yourself out of bed and into the shower, turning the water as cold as it would go to jolt yourself awake. You spent all of five seconds in there before your body screamed in protest. When you went downstairs, you were still shivering.

For the second day in a row, Karera was at the kitchen table waiting for you. It was suspicious. She was more like a cat most days, gone when the sun came up and only returning late at night.

“Morning,” you said casually. Not in the mood to eat, you started peeling a banana you found in the fridge. Only Karera would put it in there.

“You crashed pretty hard last night. Didn’t think you would wake up this morning.”

“Mhm.”

Karera kept her gaze on her phone. “What happened last night? We were out all night looking for you.”

It was starting to come back to you. The more you remembered, the more you felt like going back upstairs. “I met someone.”

“Oh? Did you hit it off?”

You didn’t answer. If last night had gone the way you remembered, she probably never wanted to see you again. You couldn’t go two seconds without pissing someone off, could you?

“I don’t want to talk about—”

“Well, too bad because you don’t have a choice. I was worried as hell last night. You just disappeared without telling anyone. And then you show up at the villa at midnight drunk out of your mind. I was scared you’d gotten lost or robbed or—” Karera scowled. “The least you can do is tell me what happened. Norisuke was ready to call the entire police force to look for you.”

Embarrassment curdled your tongue. How pathetic would it sound when you told Karera you’d thrown a fit over a phone call from your mother, met a cute girl and then proceeded to be the biggest asshole in Morioh?

“I didn’t know what to do with you,” Karera said quietly. She ran her fingers through her hair. “You were so mad. I’m not used to being the one who’s sober. I probably just made you more upset.”

You remembered dimly pushing Karera away when she’d tried to help you upstairs, sneering that she should let you be the drunk person for once. Could you have been any more of a dick last night?

You sat down next to Karera and told her everything. The phone call from your mother. Yasuho. Wanting to get drunk. To forget. The guy at the restaurant. Snapping at Yasuho. Feeling sorry for yourself. You admitted the fruit parlour hadn’t done much to help you and you were starting to realize how hopeless this whole thing was.

You rolled a die between your fingers, watching the pips catch the light. “We shouldn’t have come here,” you sighed. “I’m just wasting everyone’s time. I should have left the curse alone. If no one else could do it, why did I think that I could?”

Karera’s face was turning red. You raised your eyebrow, wondering if her blood pressure was finally catching up to her.

“You good?”

“No, you goddamn moron!” She grabbed your face and pulled you forwards, nearly off your chair. “I can’t believe you’re this dense! How can you say that nothing is going well when things couldn’t be better?”

You opened your mouth but Karera cut you off. You hadn’t seen her this worked up since that one guy accused her of ripping him off for a toupée. Which, to be fair, she had.

“Joshu has already agreed to be your fiancé. Sure, he’s a douche and looks like one, but that’s already one person who’s willing to help you. Then you have Josuke, who’s cute, considerate, cares about you, and did I mention cute? I’ll admit that fruit parlour was a bit much. Norisuke’s old; they do that. But I know you have the number of at least five people from yesterday. That’s something! And then you meet this cute girl. You fumbled that spectacularly, yes, but she’s obviously into you otherwise she wouldn’t have taken you out! I bet if you apologized and grovelled a little, she wouldn’t hate you as much! That’s more than a handful of people who might be your true love!”

“But—”

“Y/N.” Karera pulled you closer so that your faces were inches apart. You could make out Karera’s individual lashes and the faint flecks in her dark eyes. “True love doesn’t happen right away. You may be under a curse, but this isn’t a fairy tale. You have to be brave, but you also have to be patient. All these people are being nudged your way for a reason. You have to trust yourself a little and let things play out. You still have three weeks left, not days. You can afford to take things slow.”

You were momentarily speechless. Karera had never spoken to you so intently. Her curls tumbled over her face, hiding one of her eyes.

“Love looks a little different for everyone,” Karera said softly. You could feel her breath stirring against your cheek. “That’s what makes it worth finding.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You brought up your hand, tucking one of Karera’s unruly curls behind her ear.

Your hand lingered.

“The hell are you doing, bozo?” Karera smacked your hand away. She drew back and you realized how awkwardly you’d been leaning forward. “Don’t go falling in love with me. That’s not gonna help anyone.”

“I was just getting your hair out of the way,” you muttered. “Since you’re feeling so wise this morning, what should I do to apologize to Yasuho?”

Karera scratched under her bandana. “Do you know her number?”

“No.”

“Her social media?”

“No.”

“Do you know anything about her besides that she’s cute?”

“She’s got pink hair?”

“Gimme something to work with here. What the hell did you even talk about last night, then?”

Your face burned. “I wasn’t really thinking about that, alright?”

“Clearly. Well, this is a small town. Sort of. Let’s see if that thing about everyone knowing everyone is true.” Karera called someone on her phone, putting them on speaker. You didn’t know how to feel knowing Karera had Josuke on speed dial.

“Hello?”

“Josuke, we need a favour. Y/N has gone and fumbled things. We need to fix it.”

Josuke’s voice sharpened with worry. “What happened? Are they alright?”

“I’m fine,” you said. “It’s not that serious, I just—”

“—met a cute girl last night and decided to act like a huge asshat. We need help finding out who she is so they can apologize.”

You shot Karera a dirty look.

“Uh, I dunno how much I can help there but I’ll try. What can you tell me about her?”

Karera counted off her fingers. “She’s cute, around our age, has pink hair and her name’s Yasuho.”

“Yasuho? Hirose Yasuho?”

“Wait, you know who that is?” you asked.

“I do, actually. We’re good friends. I was going to introduce the two of you but it’s great that you already met.” A pause. “Maybe not under these circumstances, but still.”

“See? This is all working out. Josuke, I need you to send over her address to Y/N’s phone. And maybe something that she likes. Food or something.”

“I could just text you her number and—”

“No! Y/N has to show up gallantly at Yasuho’s doorstep! A measly text isn’t enough to smooth things over!”

“It isn’t?” you deadpanned.

“Do you wanna find your true love or not? If Yasuho turns out to be the one, you’re gonna regret not going the extra mile for her.”

“Yasuho is very sweet,” Josuke said. “She doesn’t need anything grand. If anything, she might prefer—”

“Address, Josuke.”

“Isn’t she going to find it creepy that I know where she lives?” you asked.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Karera said. “She’ll love it, trust me. I’m here to help you.”

You thought about what Yasuho had said about her mother and finding it hard to stay inside. You resolved to be tactful throughout this endeavour. You weren’t looking to make a spectacle.

Your phone lit up with a notification.

“That’s her address. She has classes during the day so you’ll have to wait until this afternoon if you want to catch her. Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

“Josuke, you’re awfully sweet but Y/N has to do this themself,” Karera said.

“If you say so.”

“Is there anything she likes? Chocolate? Sweets?”

“I’m going to apologize, not propose,” you muttered.

Josuke took a moment to think. “It’s a little far, but there’s a store that sells sesame honey dumplings …”

You rang Yasuho’s doorbell, stepping back so you wouldn’t crowd the door. The outfit Karera had stuffed you into made you look like a kid sweating in church. You wouldn’t be surprised if your collar was slowly suffocating you. The way no one seemed to think you could dress yourself was starting to get insulting.

Sighing, you shifted the box of dumplings to our other arm, trying not to crush the bouquet of yellow daffodils. According to Karera, they were prime “apology flowers”.

Five minutes passed and no one came to open the door. You rang the doorbell again, feeling sweat prickle along your forehead. Karera would raise hell if she knew you hadn’t even gone inside Yasuho’s house.

Another five minutes trickled by. You were debating between ringing again or just leaving the flowers and dumplings when the doorknob twisted. You straightened, sucked in your stomach, and put on your most contrite smile.

A woman opened the door. Her dark hair was drawn into pigtails with circular hair clips and you thought it was cute that she and Yasuho matched hairstyles. Well, Yasuho, her mother, and Norisuke.

“Can I help you?”

“Good afternoon. I’m L/N Y/N, a friend of Yasuho’s. I’m sorry for coming by out of nowhere. I owe Yasuho an apology for being inconsiderate yesterday. Is it okay if I talk to her?”

The suspicious look in Yasuho’s mother’s eyes eventually faded when she realized no murderer worth their salt would wear such a tight collar or bring a bouquet of daffodils.

“I’ll let her know you’re here,” she said.

As you slipped off your shoes by the front door, Yasuho’s mother hollered up the stairs for Yasuho. You followed her the living room, only sitting down when Yasuho’s mother gestured that it was alright. You centered the dumpling box on the coffee table but kept the daffodils in your lap.

You felt jittery all of a sudden. Was it hot in here?

“Would you like something to drink?” Yasuho’s mother asked.

“No, thank you, Hirose-san.”

Yasuho’s mother’s lips thinned. “Suzuyo is fine,” she said curtly. “How long have you and my daughter known each other?”

Less than twenty-four hours.

“Not that long,” you said pleasantly.

Suzuyo eyed the daffodils. “And you’re close?”

“We’re friends.”

The strangest thought occurred to you then. It was almost like … well, it was almost like you and Yasuho were dating and you were here to meet her mother. How funny was that?

“Y/N?” Yasuho appeared then, her eyebrows drawn together. You waved, then instantly felt stupid.

“Hey. Is it a bad time? I can come back.”

“No, it’s okay.” Yasuho looked between you and her mother. When Suzuyo didn’t leave, Yasuho cleared her throat. “Mom? A little privacy?”

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” her mother said, a little unnecessarily. Her departure was followed by pots and pans clanging together a little too loudly to be natural.

Yasuho took a seat on one of the armchairs. “Did you get home okay last night?”

“Yeah, I did.” You handed her the daffodils and nodded at the box of dumplings. “These are for you.”

Yasuho’s face flushed slightly. “Oh, thank you. What for?”

“I wanted to apologize for being such an asshole last night. You were nice enough to hang out with me when I was feeling shitty and I paid you back by acting like a prick and using my Stand out of nowhere. I should’ve warned you.” You shook your head. “Actually, I shouldn’t have done that at all. I just feel terrible that you were so nice to me and I ended your night like that. It was stupid and I’m sorry.”

Yasuho opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “I appreciate the apology. I could tell you weren’t yourself last night, though. We all have days like that so I don’t blame you. And your Stand did repair that guy’s hand, so I guess it isn’t all bad.”

You wished his hand had stayed mangled. Bastard had been ogling Yasuho so hard you were surprised she hadn’t noticed.

“How did you know I liked these?” Yasuho reached for the dumpling box, tearing the wrapping.

“Oh, I asked around and people said Morioh was famous for these.”

“It is. Have you ever tried one?”

“No, actually.”

Yasuho took a dumpling for herself and held out the box to you. “We can’t have that. Try one. Right now.”

“But it’s your—”

“—apology gift and I can do what I want with it. You can’t go to Morioh and not have a honey sesame dumpling. Try one. Or I won’t forgive you.”

You bit back a smile and took one.

“There’s filling inside so make sure you bite with your back teeth,” Yasuho said. “I’ve lost count of the number of times the filling goes shooting out of people’s mouths.”

You did as she said. The filling filled your mouth, gooey with just the perfect amount of sweetness. That coupled with the chewy dumpling, and you were already planning to go back to the store to buy their entire stock.

Yasuho smiled. She popped her dumpling in her mouth, looking pleased.

“Yasuho, I’ve decided.”

You and Yasuho both turned to find Suzuyo’s mother hovering behind the armchair. Her eyes were misty and she brought a hand up to cover her mouth.

“If the two of you are happy, then there’s nothing for me to say. I give you my blessing.”

“Mom, what?!”

Suzuyo went to grasp your shoulder. “I had my doubts about you, seeing as I’ve never heard of you, but you dressed so nicely just to drop by. You brought sweets and Yasuho’s favourite flowers.

“I don’t even like daffodils!” Yasuho exclaimed.

“Yasuho hasn’t had much luck with dating. First that dreadful med student and then Joshu … I’d given up on going to my daughter’s wedding. But I can tell that you’re different. You’ll treat Yasuho with dignity and respect and love her wholeheartedly. I can just see that you’re that kind of person.”

Yasuho rose suddenly. Her face was about the same shade as her hair. “I’ll see you out, Y/N.”

“Why? Feel free to stay for dinner, sweetheart. I’d love to know more about how the two of you met and—”

Yasuho all but dragged you outside. She didn’t stop walking until her house was out of sight.

“Sorry about that,” you said sheepishly. “I should’ve made it clearer to your mom that this was a strictly platonic apology.”

“When my mom’s not drunk, she’s crazy,” Yasuho sighed.

“Payback for yesterday.”

Yasuho shook her head. “Was all that stuff you said last night about your curse true? You really only have a few weeks to find your true love?”

“Or I’ll lose everything,” you said blithely.

“That must be hard. I can’t imagine what I would do if I was in your shoes.”

“I’m just taking it one day at a time,” you said, thinking about what Karera had said. “I try not to think about it too much.”

“Well, I want to help,” Yasuho said. “Gimme your phone. We’ll exchange numbers. If we work together, I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

A thrill went through your stomach. You handed over your phone, trying not to smile too much.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. There's not a lot I can do except fall in love.”

Yasuho drew close all of a sudden. A sparkle went through her eyes.

“It’ll happen. I know it will.”

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

#okoshijjl #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #jjba x reader #jojolion #jojolion x reader

5 notes · View notes