Chapter Text
Just a few more.
There remain only a few more god damned forsaken hamon users left in the world, and they are the rooster that wakes him. Or more appropriately the cock, if this man called Jojo were anything to go by. He and Esidisi leave the place of their slumber first, allowing Wham to take care of the two young members of the hamon clan. They stretch their legs and arms, and emerge beneath the moon. It hasn’t changed a bit in two thousand years.
More importantly, Kars feels refreshed. The stone is dancing on his fingertips, and all he has to do is reach out and grasp it.
He and Esidisi part for a few short moments as the other goes to find Wham. When he returns, he finds that they’ve already been engaged to this man called Jojo. He rolls his eyes for now, but oh, how he will grow to loathe that name in time.
...
“I’ll go. You two can wait on me here.”
The stone is on Air Supplena Island, home of what remained of the hamon users, and Esidisi jumps at the chance to retrieve it. Wham is to remain with Kars. The eldest of the group gives him a handful silver coins, reminds him how to use a telephone, and instructs him to call a specific number by eight p.m.. By then night will have long since fallen, and if the stone is truly where they believe it to be, then it should be in his hands as well.
Esidisi grabs Kars by the scarf, and kisses him. There’s an excited energy about him, foaming at the bit to strike down a few feeble little hamon users and take the stone. ‘When I come back, I’ll make good on what I told you back then.” He speaks not in the tongue of the humans that they had adopted since waking, but in the one that they had used when they first met as children. “The sun will be yours, Kars. And if you can’t reach the sun on my shoulders, Wham is a few inches taller than me. I’ll make him do it.”
Kars rolls his eyes at him. “You still remember that?”
“You do too.” The younger snickers.
“Well, don’t keep me waiting any longer.” Kars shoos the man off with a wave of his hand.
...
It’s 8:01 p.m.
Kars wonders if Esidisi has forgotten how to use a telephone.
At 8:03, he wonders if he remembered to give him enough money for a call.
At 8:05, he’s tapping his foot and crossing his arms and cursing the big buffoon for making him wait up like this.
At 8:30, it’s snowing, and Kars peers up at the clock from within the telephone booth. The top of his head grazes the cold metal ceiling.
He exits the box, and closes the door behind him.
Esidisi is dead.
He must not bring vengeance into this. He can only focus on the sun.
...
Kars is hunched over on an old, worn bed, one of the few still in tact in the abandoned hotel. The night is cold and quiet, and the tapping of a chisel against stone is all too absent from the room where he resides. He mulls over his own experiences, of Esidisi’s death, of Jojo and his mechanical minion, and of the brief moment that the stone had been wrapped around his own leg. He does not tend to dwell on the past, but it is far too much, and far too connected to the present.
There’s a knock at his door.
“Come in.” He knows that it’s Wham already, but the boy- no, the other man- will knock regardless.
The other remaining pillar man enters, silently coming to stand beside Kars’ bed. They lock eyes. They’re both tired. Asleep for two thousand years and now it’s all back to square one, with tired eyes and tired bones. They’re supposed to be better than this. But the absence of Esidisi’s shrill laughter cuts like a knife, and neither one of them is going to acknowledge to wound.
Until, that is, Wham speaks. “I know that Lord Esidisi used to accompany you at night. I will do the same, if you wish.”
I’m worried about you. I know you’re lonely.
Kars blinks, slowly, and turns away. “So be it.” He pulls himself out of the way enough for Wham to join him on the bed. The other man only sits with both feet on the floor and his hands on his knees. They sit in silence for a while, and the cold of winter rides in through boarded windows and onto their flesh.
Wham turns, and his fingers brush Kars’ locks with a touch too gentle for a man built for war. “...Would you allow me to braid your hair for you?” He asks.
I want to make you feel better.
Kars nods, and hums in approval. He removes the black wrap from his head and drapes it over the dusty footboard. Wham comes to sit cross-legged behind him. The last braid that Esidisi put into his hair is frayed and coming apart, and the younger hesitates to touch it. But he does what he must, and unclips the already loose strands from their hold.
Wham has never braided hair before, but he’s watched his late master do it enough times to figure it out. Kars lets out a deep sigh as he feels the man fumble about the back of his head. The Man. He’s only ten thousand. Or rather, twelve with two thousand asleep. He barely even be old enough to be married or live away from his parents, if he had been raised with his true family. And yet, over the course of his life, he had dealt with so much pressure and so much burden, and Kars had never fully explained to him why. All Wham had ever been promised was the sun. In truth, the mask would likely do so much more with the stone in their hands.
Was it trust that kept him at his side since infancy?
No, he supposed. It had to be love.
Kars feels weakness overcome him. He thinks for a second, that all of these self described moments of weakness have been something that he never wanted to name- love. He loved Wham. He had loved Esidisi for eighty thousand years, and love was the double edged sword that had cut him when he came to abandon Santana.
He had been on the earth for a hundred and two thousand years. Only on this rotting bed, in this cold room with all but one of his loved ones gone- could he admit that he had ever felt such a thing. Half of his loved ones had left and died wondering if he had ever even thought kindly of them at all. He wants to change that.
“I cherish you, Wham.”
I love you.
The other man stops short, digesting the words. He knows he didn’t mishear, and he knows what Kars is trying to say.
“I cherish you as well, My Lord.”
It’s okay. I love you too.
Kars lets his head sink lower. “I’ve known... I knew Esidisi for more than eighty thousand years, and I don’t think I ever stopped to tell him that.”
There’s a faint click as the hair clip snaps the braid in place. “How does that feel?” Wham murmurs. Kars shakes his hair into place. It’s far too tight and it tugs at his scalp.
“It’s perfect, Wham. Thank you.”
He doesn’t get the usual response the he’s expecting. So, Kars turns his head. Behind him, all he can see is the wild child that he’d once known possessing the body of the warrior he had groomed.
Wham holds his head down, face hidden from the view of his lord. But tears shimmer well enough in the moonlight. He shudders and chokes to hold in the sobs that bite at him. He’s so young. This was not what Kars had intended in his plan to give his child the sun.
In his moment of terrible, loving weakness, Kars embraces his son, and strokes his back to calm the quiver of his spine.
“My lord, you don’t have to-”
“Do not weep, Wham.” Kars whispers. “When we walk in the sun together, cry your heart out- and I will give you my shoulder. I promise you this. But for now, we cannot yet afford to grieve.” But he’s not letting go of Wham any time soon, and he can tell the younger can’t quell his tears just yet.
“Thank you.”
They sit together for a while. Kars can’t remember the last time that they embraced like this- if they had ever. It feels good. He will admit this only to himself.
When they part, Kars lays his body on its side atop the bed. “I’ll be taking a short rest. Wake me after a few hours, and keep guard until then.” He orders, re-establishing his superior position.
“Yes,my lord.”
...
Kars bathes in light. Nothing but pure, white light, surrounding him and letting no shadow be cast in any direction. It’s blissful. On the ground is the fur of an animal that had long since gone extinct, and he sits there, sighing with content. He can rest here, on this blanket, drowning in the brightness.
There’s a bump up against Kars’ hip. He peers beneath his arm to examine the foreign object, and finds a tiny face staring back up at him. There’s nothing that he can do to stop himself from smiling. “Wham.” He murmurs. He pulls the child up into his arms, cradling him. “You’re so small... When did I forget how cute you were?”
He hears a chirp, and finds that within arms reach, there is a hand-woven basket with blankets draping over the side. Holding Wham with one hand, he pulls the object closer. Inside lay Satana, curled up and sleeping. He couldn’t be disgusted with him when he was this way. How could something so tiny ever betray him?
Kars leans down, pressing his forehead to Wham’s like he had those many millennia ago. Before him, a foot steps, and he looks back up. A lazy grin returns to his face. “Esidisi.” He breathes, feeling his heart flutter just at the man’s presence.
The other man does not speak to him, but he’s smiling as well, and Kars is fine knowing that. He stands with Wham still in his arms. He leans forward to give his husband a tiny kiss, if only to say ‘I’m happy to see you.’. He is kissed back. Then he feels two arms taking Wham from him. But love keeps Kars from protesting as the child is removed from his hold.
Holding the infant in one arm, the younger man digs into his pocket. Kars blinks, and follows a closed hand with his eyes as it is lifted. He offers an open palm, and into it, the red stone drops. It’s perfect and weighty in his hand, and it beats like a heart with the warmth of the sun.
“Oh...” Kars shudders, clutching the stone. “It’s mine, finally, finally mine.” He pulls the jewel close to his heart, curling up over it. It moves and lives and it’s his, all his, and his to share with his loved ones.
When he lifts his head back up, Kars is met with the sight of Esidisi’s back, walking away from him with Wham in tow. He blinked. “Hey.” He barked. “Where do you think you’re going? Get back here! We have the stone!”
Wait a minute. This wasn’t right. How had Esidisi even gotten here in the first place? The stone didn’t even exist when Wham was a child, let alone-
Kars whipped around, looking into Santana’s bed. The child in the basket had turned to stone, lying in scattered, broken pieces in and about the basket. Deep lines bore into his soft face, curled back in a furious scream. The elder pillar man turns again, following after Esidisi, who only grew further away from him.
“Wait!” He cried. Kars took the stone and held the chain in his fist, letting the ruby fly about. “Take it back! Don’t take him away!” He tries to run, but never seems to get any closer. “You can have it back, I’ll give it back, I’ll give anything, don’t-”
Kars jolts up from the bed, old sheets stuck his skin by sweat. Wham is gone.
He wanders down the hall and only finds blood. He merely has to follow the trail to confirm his fear- Wham is barely holding himself up against the wall, panting, and coming back from the very verge of death. But, he is alive.
Kars withdraws his blade. He comes to stand in front of the other man, who hides his shame behind white cloth.
“Forgive me, my lord. The hamon warrior called Caesar is dead.” He wheezes, composed as he can in such a miserable state.
Kars raises his blade, and Wham closes his eyes as if he will be struck. But, when he opens them again, blood flows before him from his elder’s slit wrist.
“Drink.” Kars commands.
Wham shakes his head. “I cannot.”
“You will.”
Wham concedes to the demand, and he takes his master by the wrist. Gently, he suckles blood from the wound. Kars can feel the rush of his blood leaving him, pouring into Wham’s belly, but he regenerates the blood cells quickly enough to give him his fill. In moments, the younger man is healed. He pulls away from the gash, wiping his mouth.
“Thank you, my lord.”
...
Wham wishes to fight the one called Jojo for revenge on Esidisi’s life. Kars refuses.
The stone is on the line if Wham does not fight. He never has any intention to battle Lisa Lisa, but he can see the wild in his subordinate again. Wham will fight, and he will do it with all of the honor and pride that flows in his golden heart. So, Kars accepts.
He is afraid.
...
Wham chooses a style familiar to those of the ancient humans of rome that they’d fought before their slumber. His confidence and passion to avenge his fallen comrade will not subside. Kars and he spend one last moment together, watching the stadium rise before the battle. They do not speak a word to each other, taking one last shared glance at the moon above. Kars has said all that he can.
From the moment that the race begins, and the wheels of Wham’s chariot stall, Kars knows that he has already lost.
...
Wham fades away. Kars hides behind a column while his vampiric double deals with the two humans in the aftermath of the battle. His gaze follows the ashes of his son as they rise up in the air. Weightless and colorless, they flutter past him. The child that he had raised- whom he spared, fed his blood, and promised the sun, flew away from him on the very wind that he had once tamed. It felt like some kind of terrible goodbye.
Kars holds the stone in his hands. It is cold and without life on his skin.
Joseph Joestar will pay.
...
Power. Energy beyond his wildest expectations fills him as the stone gives his mask enough strength to at last unlock the very core of his being. The core of all beings. Yes- all life lived within him, and within all life he thrived, and with this stone he had unlocked the billions of years of genetic information collected in all things.
One of the humans, a particularly loud one that seemed to accompany Jojo from time to time, observed his power across the field of crystal. The others stood in shocked silence, witnessing him stand bare before the sun for the very first time.
It comes up over the mountain, and his vampires fade. Only Kars remains, drinking in the sun’s light at long, long last. He cannot put into words or thought the feeling over it creeping over his flesh, illuminating his hair and showing him the colors of the world that he had never been able to see before this moment. It is his now, and he will own it and walk in it, reach out and touch the very meaning of light itself-
-but first. He will rip Jojo to shreds.
...
“I want to see the sun.”
“Follow me, and I will show you the sun.”
“I only want to show these children the light of the sun.”
Where had he ever gone wrong?
Kars replayed these scenes of his life through his head, from the moment that his mother had held his tiny hand and warned him away from the light, to the evening of his people’s slaughter, and the painful, immediate aftermaths of losing everyone that he had ever loved. All of it for the sake that one final, lonely glimpse at the treasure he’d desired for a hundred thousand years.
As he flails, desperately trying to make it back to earth, Kars feels like he’s living out another distant memory- like he’s been here before, and this is all just happening again. Damnit. If he’s done this before then he won’t do it again. He won’t, he won’t, he won’t, and even as he turns to stone, he is determined not to repeat his mistakes again.
Jojo be damned, revenge be damned, the stone be damned, godhood be damned and the very sun he so desired be damned!
All he wanted was to go back to his home in the mountains, so he could tell his three loved ones how he felt about them without forcing them to guess that he liked them as more than his pawns, so that he didn’t die with all of this regret!
Take him back, forward, to another universe, he didn’t care!
...
Kars awakens. He is horribly, horribly exhausted, and even more terribly sore. He doesn’t understand where he is or what’s going on. There’s light all around him, and he picks out the sight of grass beneath his body. There are still tiny scales and feather clinging to him, with dirt collected in and between them. He’s pretty sure that one of his horns is broken, and perhaps more of his bones. A staunch burning smell wafts just beneath his nose, and he grunts. For all of his unending power, he can only just lift one side of his torso off of the ground.
He hears footsteps, but can’t even muster the energy to find the source.
“Kars!”
His head bolts up, and he’s greeted with a child’s face, haloed by sun’s rays through his sandy hair. How smart of this child to know his name.
Another pair of steps follow behind, and the fallen god meets with the shape of a crimson X. It’s tattooed across the face of a man who holds a small, redheaded infant in a carrier on his chest. He bends over the blonde boy and tuts.
“Wham! There you are! Geez, how does someone so small run so god damned fast?!” He stops just behind the child. He and the fallen man, lying in a crater of broken stone and burnt grass, littered with feathers, lock eyes. He blinks, and urges the small child back.
Kars stares back up at the three of them. They’re covered in warm, brilliant, beautiful sunlight, flaring behind their backs and casting a shadow over his form. He stands.
He does not know that he is now billions of years old, at last released from his stone prison as the earth reset its course and lived on without him. It doesn’t really matter, either. He has a lot of things to tell these three- and it’s such a wonderful, sunny day for a chat.