Chapter Text
Jotaro took a long drag of his cigarette, slow to release a thin stream of smoke into the crisp morning air. He tapped the ashes off, letting them spiral down over the edge of the balcony to float aimlessly under the warmth of the desert sun.
He took another drag and leaned against the rickety iron railing that lined the cramped balcony of his hotel room for the night. The paved roads and hole-in-the-wall shops sprawled down below in a tangle of concrete and dust had started to shake off the remnants of the night, coaxed to life with the dawn for the coming of a new day.
The laundromat down the street would be open in a few hours. Jotaro would have to remember to bring his clothes in before the group took off without him.
A shiver ran down his spine. His tanktop did little to protect him from the chill of the early hour, but it was better than slinging on his filthy gakuran on again. The heat from his cigarette wasn’t enough to warm him, but it kept his fingers from going numb. He’d go back inside in a bit.
Jotaro brought the cigarette up to his lips, ready to take in another breath, when something landed on the railing by his arm.
Water.
Just a single drop, not from the cloudless sky or from Jotaro’s brow. With a slight frown, Jotaro looked up to the balcony above his own.
Against the vibrant kaleidoscope of the sunrise, it was hard to make out any significant details at first. He nearly missed the splotch of color above him, a bright cherry red that blended with the dark crimson and burnt orange in the sky.
It took him a minute before he could make out the silhouette of Kakyoin’s body against the mess of color that haloed his head, eyes catching on the shadows of his slender fingers resting on the railing above Jotaro’s own and the curl of his bang against his sharp jaw.
Another drop of water fell, landing on Jotaro’s shoulder this time. He still couldn’t see where it came from.
“Kakyoin?” he called out.
Something cold crept down Jotaro’s throat.
Kakyoin stared back at him, violet eyes wide and unblinking, glossed over with a vacant shine like a glass prosthetic instead of living muscle. He didn’t move, rigid with his hands on the railing and upper body craned over the edge to peer down at Jotaro.
“Kakyoin? Are you alright?”
Kakyoin didn’t move. Then, ever so slowly, his head tilted to the side, little by little, and—
Woke up.
It took a minute for Jotaro to take in the heavy comforter draped around him, the sensation nearly surreal when he expected to feel nothing but starchy motel blankets kicked down to his knees. The sun peered in through the vast window, overlooking the idle streets of Morioh.
Jotaro closed his eyes and sunk back into the pillow under his head, the scent of plain detergent still clinging to the fabric. Even though the bed was warm with the heat trapped underneath the blankets, there was an artificial chill in the room that instinctively made Jotaro curl further into the bed. He must have forgotten to turn off the air conditioning before he fell asleep.
While not a rare occurrence, something about that particular dream threw Jotaro’s head off-kilter. Dreams that followed him into wakefulness weren’t uncommon. Dreams that were so clear that he could still taste the tobacco on his tongue as he laid in bed were much less so.
He rolled his tongue against the roof of his mouth and swallowed, his throat scratching painfully with the small action and making him grimace. At least it got rid of whatever sensation he thought he felt.
Blearily, fumbling to grasp his usual morning routine, Jotaro glanced over to the digital clock that sat on the small bedside table just by his head.
It was almost six. He’d overslept.
A long suffering groan escaped him, rumbling out into the spacious and uniformly unobtrusive walls of his hotel room. His head flopped back onto the pillow with a dull thud. Even if he took the next bus, there was no way he’d be able to get down to the beach and then back to the hotel in time for breakfast with his grandfather at six-thirty sharp.
He sighed. It wasn’t like it mattered now.
Jotaro gave himself five seconds to enjoy the comfort of his bed before he threw the blankets back and swung his legs over the side of the mattress. Goosebumps prickled along the exposed skin of his arms, but he paid them no mind. Like the pull of the tide, Jotaro let the thought be washed from his mind as he stumbled around his hotel room, pulling a turtleneck from his luggage and patting around the wall for the light switch. By the time he made it out the door and into the hallway, all thoughts of lingering dreams had been swept away.
He pushed the button for the elevator down, the soft chime and the rumble of the doors sliding open echoing along the empty hallway as he stepped inside.
Soft carpet lined the old flooring, complementing the row of lights above the doors, currently illuminating the number six. It wasn’t like the digital displays he was used to, as sleek and streamlined as the modern elevators themselves, but rather the antiquated remains of Morioh’s past.
Jotaro pressed the last button for the lobby and watched as the doors slid shut and jerked into motion. The six above him went dark as the five blinked to life, then four, then three, all the way down until he reached the ground floor.
As soon as the doors opened, the clattering of rolling suitcases and overlapping conversation hit him like a runaway train. Families huddled together with their luggage and couples chattering away to one another in the lounge seats filled up the vast entrance in a matter of seconds, truly a monument to tourist season in Morioh.
It was enough to make Jotaro grimace.
He walked past the small crowd by the reception desk as quickly as he could, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the open entrance to the restaurant connected to the side of the hotel. There, at least, the noise was dispersed among the array of tables, offering the illusion of space despite the sheer amount of people in the room.
On autopilot, he kept going further back, to the broad window along the back wall lined with pristine tables and cloth napkins folded into flowers. Tucked away in the corner, where the din around him was muffled, sat Joseph.
“Morning.”
“Huh?” Joseph startled, head jerking up with wide eyes before he let out a low groan. “My god, you scared me half to death. Would it kill you to give an old man some warning for once?”
Jotaro decided that it was too early to mention the fact that he had been in Joseph’s eyeline from the moment he stepped into the lobby.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll tell you next time.”
“You better,” Joseph grumbled. “Now hurry up and sit down. I had to wave off that poor waitress three times because of you.”
Jotaro didn’t argue with that. He pulled the chair across from Joseph out and sat. “You didn’t order yet?”
“Why would I?” Joseph shot back. “I’m here to have a meal with my grandson. I’d rather wait for a hot plate with some company than sit around and watch it get cold by myself.”
That was fair enough. Jotaro couldn’t think of a way to refute that, and was saved from the task of trying when the waitress rounded the corner to their table.
“Good morning,” she said, bowing her head to Jotaro. “It’s good to see you both again. Will you be having the usual?”
“Please,” Jotaro said.
“Of course. I’ll have your food ready in a minute. If you need anything else in the meantime, please feel free to ask,” she answered, a faintly polite smile on her face. “If you’ll excuse me.”
She bowed again and whisked the menus off the table in a single, practiced gesture, already hurrying over to the next table in the blink of an eye.
“I can’t believe you,” Joseph muttered. “Fish for breakfast. Who on god’s green earth thinks that fish is a good meal for breakfast?”
“Me,” Jotaro said. “Why are you complaining now? We’ll both be back in America by the end of the week.”
“And I’ll be damn glad to be back. At least they know what a proper breakfast is back home.” Joseph glanced over at Jotaro. “You’re done with that thesis work of yours, aren’t you? Why don’t you come by for a visit?”
“I can’t,” he said. “Jolyne’s going back to school soon. We won’t have time for another trip until her winter break.”
Joseph waved him off. “Just pull her out for a week or two. She’s a smart girl, she’ll be fine.”
Jotaro couldn’t really argue with that. The ethics, maybe. But not her intelligence. “We’ll see.”
Thankfully, he was saved from any further nudging towards a potential visit by the smiling face of their waitress.
“Thank you for your patience,” she said. “I have one omelette, side of fruit, and one grilled mackerel combo.”
A single plate with a hefty omelette, overflowing on one end with spinach and mushrooms, threatened to push over the small bowl of cantaloupe and grape slices just next to it. Joseph reached out to pull his plate closer as the waitress set down Jotaro’s plate, steaming fish grilled to a tender eggshell white over a bed of rice alongside a small bowl of hot miso soup.
“Please enjoy.”
Whatever thoughts of Jolyne’s school schedule and Christmas flights were soon pushed out of mind once there was food on the table. Sometimes, Joseph would keep the conversation going as they ate, but it seemed like this time, even he was content to eat in silence.
Jotaro paid it no mind. He picked up his chopsticks and plucked out a slice of mackerel absentmindedly. He brought it up, ready to eat, but stopped short.
There was something odd about the fish. The rest of the meal was fine, appetizing even, but something about the fish was off.
Jotaro narrowed his eyes and brought the slice in his hand closer.
“Jotaro,” Joseph said. “Is mackerel supposed to be that pink?
No, not pink. Red.
Jotaro realized a moment too late that the fish was still bleeding.
“Fuck!”
He dropped it back onto the plate, spots of dark crimson staining his white dress pants. It flopped against the rice and went still, oozing blood out of its flaky flesh that pooled on the surface of the plate, covering the delicate porcelain bottom in a heavy puddle that refused to stop flowing and threatening to flow over the sides and onto the silken white tablecloth.
Jotaro didn’t understand. He didn’t see any sign of blood when it was brought out, nor did he notice anything off about it until he touched it. Even if the fish was raw and bloody, whatever amount of blood remained should have been restricted to the surface.
It shouldn’t have been oozing out of its pores, out of every thin slice, as if the fish were still whole and struggling to survive.
“Is everything alright?” Both Jotaro and Joseph stared wide-eyed at the waitress who crept up to the table, face professional but cautious. Her expression didn’t change until her eyes traveled from the splatter on Jotaro’s thigh to the bleeding mess on his plate. “Oh!”
Her jaw dropped, hands fluttering at her sides as she hurried to Jotaro’s side of the table. “Sir, are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”
“No,” Jotaro said. “I’m fine. This is from the fish.”
“The fish?” she repeated.
“Yes, the fish,” Joseph said. “Look at it! Did you drag it straight out of the ocean? The thing’s still bleeding!”
Her face went pale and she swiftly dropped her head in a deep bow.
“I—I didn’t realize—”
“Damn right you didn’t! What kind of business are you running, slapping a bloody fish on a plate and calling it a meal?”
“No, no of course, I completely understand.” The waitress bowed again, not even daring to look Jotaro in the eye. “I am so sorry, sir. This was completely unacceptable on my behalf. Please, let me take back for you and I’ll have the chef prepare a new meal for you.”
That was the complete opposite of what Jotaro wanted. “It’s fine. I’m not hungry anyways.”
“Not hungry? What are you talking about?” Joseph asked. “You barely even got a chance to eat.”
The waitress kept her head bowed. “Sir, I insist, please allow me to compensate you for your meal.”
“It’s fine.” Silence fell over the table and Jotaro realized too late that he may have raised his voice just a little too much. He sighed. “I just want to change my clothes. Sorry for the mess.”
He rummaged around his wallet and left a handful of folded bills on the table, more than enough to cover the cost of their meal. “Excuse me.”
Jotaro didn’t wait to hear the response from either the waitress or his grandfather, pushing his chair back and sweeping out of the dining room before they could say a word. The fabric of his pants clung uncomfortably to his thigh, a heavy damp spot sticking to his skin, but the hem of his coat was at least long enough to cover it from plain sight if he stood up straight.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets in a hasty attempt at keeping his coat inconspicuously closed and hurried for the elevator, jamming his finger against the button hard enough to press it flat into the wall.
Finally, the door slid open with a quiet chime, blissfully empty. While he wouldn’t normally do so, Jotaro hurried to step inside to hit the button for the sixth floor, then the button to close the doors. He thought nothing of it in the moment, not when he was in such a hurry to avoid the inevitable series of questions that would come if anyone saw the blood on him.
But once the doors slid shut, Jotaro was struck by a single, unexplainable thought.
He had made a mistake.
The elevator began its slow ascent, the light for the next floor flicking on.
Second floor.
Jotaro tried to figure out what he could have done to make him so objectively certain that something had gone wrong, furrowing his brow when he finally realized it.
A cold sense of dread washed down his spine.
It was impossible. He was standing right by the door, the first to enter and the sole occupant of the elevator. Nothing could have gotten past him without him seeing it.
It didn’t change the fact that there was someone standing behind him.
Third floor.
Jotaro knew that he should glance over his shoulder, social norms be damned. It wouldn’t hurt to check. For some reason though, he found himself rooted in place, mind completely disconnected from his body.
He couldn’t prove it. He couldn’t turn around to see. He couldn’t move.
Someone stepped closer.
Fourth floor.
The metal creaked. Jotaro didn’t know if it was the wires supporting the elevator at work or the shift of a weight he couldn’t see.
Someone raised their arm.
Fifth floor.
Jotaro could do nothing but stare at the light, illuminating a single five. On, and on, and on, it never changed. It was too slow. He needed it to change. He needed it to change now.
Someone reached out, fingertips brushing against Jotaro’s back, ready to curl around his shoulder and—
Sixth floor.
Jotaro grabbed the door and wrenched it open the second he got his fingers through the crack, stumbling out of the elevator and whipping around. His body tensed, crouched low and ready to fight.
It didn’t matter. There was no one there.
Jotaro heaved for air, breathless and struggling to contain the roar of his pulse in his ears. Desperately, he looked over every inch of the elevator, every corner, every gap in the narrow space.
There was no one there.
Slowly, the doors slid shut and carried the empty elevator away to a different floor as Jotaro was left standing alone in the hallway.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was someone he had left behind.