Fanfic: Black Stars and Diamonds

[eff_ess_oe]

After an almost-11-month drought of not posting any fics, I am pleased to announce I am BACK in the writing game! This fic was written for the 2023 JotaJosu Big Bang, which is not only my first big bang, but also the first time I've been asked to write over 10K words. So this means that this is my longest fic to date, surpassing the numerous scrapped attempts at writing multi-chapter fics back in my FFnet days. Special thanks to everyone involved in making this event happen, with special shout-outs to Theskee, hedonismvibes, and crybabytouya on AO3 for organizing it, TheWolfHybrid on AO3 for beta-reading Chapter 3, and Patient_record on Twitter for drawing the accompanying artwork for Chapter 1. Anyway, without further ado, here's the fic (under the cut)!

Word count: 13 681
Rating: T
CWs: major JJBA Pt6 spoilers, shipcest, angst, character death, existentialism, drug usage

Black Stars and Diamonds



CHAPTER 1

February 24th
8:04 PM
Orlando, FL, USA

The night was quiet and calm. Inside a modest house just outside the city limits, a gathering of family and friends was winding down. Several filling potluck dishes had just been polished off, and the occupants of the house decided to gather in the rec room to reminisce fondly about the good times they’d shared. However, one person volunteered to stay behind and clean up for a while. That one person was Jotaro Cujoh, an accomplished marine biologist who had been invited to his mother’s place alongside his daughter Irene, a few of her friends, and some other relatives whom he hadn’t spoken to in a while. He needed some time to avoid everyone else who’d been invited, and not just because dinner conversations had him socially drained.

Jotaro picked up a serving pan that had been sitting in soapy water for a while. He reached for a scouring pad and vigorously scrubbed it in a circular motion around the grimy metal before turning on the tap and blasting away the residue until it shone like new. Satisfied with his work, he took the pan and placed it on a nearby drying rack. But before he went back to the sink, he took a glance at the clock that hung on the wall near the dining table. Shit. He’d almost forgotten to take his pain meds. But taking them four minutes later than normal wouldn’t do anything too drastic, right? … He figured he’d better take them anyway just in case. Closing his eyes and shaking his head at his lack of punctuality, he reached into his pocket for the bottle. He uncapped it, dumped a pair of small white pills into his hand, and shoved them into his mouth. Before swallowing, he ducked his head and took a sip of water directly from the tap to wash them down before returning to the pile of dishes in front of him.

Ordinarily, he’d only take one pill in the evenings unless his pain was really bad. But while he was physically fine, he had a feeling he’d be receiving some unwanted mental pain later on. Lately, he’d been having some uncomfortable visions that cycled through his brain and would not leave him alone. These visions were nothing new to him, what with him experiencing them for the first time about two years ago. But they were especially prevalent in the winter months, usually starting sometime in late December and continuing into March until becoming more sporadic for the rest of the year. Because of this, Jotaro had grown to dislike winter even more than he already did.

One would think these visions were nothing to worry about, as their subject matter was relatively benign. For instance, Jotaro would often mentally travel back to one of his regular visits to Japan, where a powerful snowstorm raged outside. He’d see himself lighting candles and huddling up under a thick blanket, trying to weather the storm amidst a power loss. Another recurring vision involved him sitting in a crowded ski chalet, trying to regain his strength after he just barely survived his first attempt at a black diamond slope. But these visions, along with the other ones that would relentlessly course through his mind, were anything but benign to Jotaro. First off, he knew for a fact that none of these things had actually happened to him. Sure, he’d been back to Japan many times to visit family and friends from when he grew up. But he had never experienced any snowstorms or power outages when he visited. And he’d also never touched a pair of skis in his life, let alone gained enough experience with them to brave a black slope. So why, despite never having experienced these events, could he remember them so vividly? It didn’t add it up, and that was only part of why these visions vexed him so much.

The other main reason was because all of these visions seemed to centre around the presence of one specific man. Jotaro could not place a name to the face, nor could he determine how exactly he and that man were connected. This young man was probably about a decade or more younger than Jotaro, and he bore a passing family resemblance to the Cujohs, yet at the same time all of his interactions with Jotaro made him seem much closer than a mere relative. There were a few semi-notable details about this man – he stood around half a foot shorter than Jotaro, and his eyes sparkled with an air of youth that didn’t fade even as he approached his late twenties. But the main thing that stuck out was his jet-black Regent hairstyle. Although it looked absurd on him, the man took a great deal of pride in it, and was quick to lash out at anyone who dared insult it.

Jotaro knew for a fact that there was nobody in his family who had all of those traits. None of his coworkers, friends, or past travelling companions had all of them, either. And after asking pretty much everyone he kept in contact with, he found out that none of them knew anyone like that, either. That fact alone was enough to unnerve Jotaro every time this man appeared in his visions, but there was something else about him that took it to another level.

A wave of dread shook Jotaro’s entire body. Not wanting to be plagued with it for the rest of the night, he reached into his pocket and took out another pill. He swallowed this one dry before returning to his dirty dish pile. But midway through washing another serving pan, a realization hit him. What if the real reason why he was so bothered by these visions was because he wanted to have actually experienced the things that happened in them? Or – no, and – because he wanted to have known the mystery man who appeared in all of them? And since he never did, that’s why the visions upset him so much…

Jotaro’s eyes snapped shut as he roughly set down the pan and scouring pad before firmly grasping the edge of the counter, stifling a grunt. Get a grip, Jotaro, he thought to himself. These things never happened, and they never will. Besides, you’re pushing 54 and your daughter’s all grown up. You should be over this fantasy bullshit by now. But despite him trying to push away his feelings, they spewed forth even harder. His grip on the counter tightened as he bit his bottom lip, trying to keep himself from crying out.



Nevertheless, he kept trying to play things off as if nothing was happening inside his head. He forced himself to take several deep breaths, trying to get to some sort of epiphany as to why his brain kept jamming these false memories in his head. He ruled out the possibility of the young man being some long-forgotten relative, because he figured he’d have imprinted on them more if he were the younger party; meanwhile, this didn’t seem to be the case in these false memories. And as a personal rule, he kept himself from getting overly close to his colleagues and students, so this man couldn’t fall into either of these categories. So that left two possibilities: either this young man was an extremely close friend, or a long-lost lover. But neither of these options made any sense. Sure, Jotaro had friends, but he doubted he’d feel this down about potentially losing them. And he didn’t remember getting into any deep-seated romantic relationships since splitting from his wife. Maybe a few short-lived flings here and there, but nothing too serious. But would he really have missed some fling that probably only lasted a season or so?

Figuring mulling it over would do nothing for him, Jotaro picked himself back up and grabbed the scouring pad again. He’d better get back to the dishes. After all, the sink that sat before him had only been emptied halfway. Picking up a plate and scrubbing away the slurry of crumbs, leftover sauce, and soap suds that marred its surface, Jotaro let himself sink back into a routine of washing, rinsing, and placing the finished dishes on the rack to dry. Maybe it’d get easier once the pills fully kicked in.

_______________________________

“Hey, Dad!”

A chipper voice snapped Jotaro out of the monotony of dishwashing. He whipped his head around, looking over his shoulder to see who had just come into the kitchen. It was Irene, his daughter. He blinked a few times, not saying anything until he saw her step closer. “Hi, honey,” he said, his words coming out in a breathy monotone. “What’s going on out there– Guhh!” He wasn’t sure whether the noise that came out of his throat was a hiccup or a dry heave. Hoping Irene would take it as the former, he turned back to the last dish, blasting away the remaining grime under a spray of hot water.

Irene smiled, not noticing any signs of her father being under the influence. “So me and Grandma were going through some of the old books down in the rec room, and we found a Mad Libs book that nobody ever used. So we thought it’d be fun for us all to fill some out and read them. You wanna come down and join us?”

Jotaro paused to think about it. Sure, he wasn’t usually a fan of these sorts of corny family games. But he figured he could use a few more distractions, at least until he was certain his visions wouldn’t bother him for the rest of the night. “Sure,” he said, turning back to Irene. “Just let me put this plate on the rack, then I’ll be right with you.”

“Great! I’ll go tell everyone you’re coming.”

Irene left the kitchen. Jotaro decided to hang back a little, waiting until the sound of Irene’s footsteps going downstairs had faded away. He stepped away from the sink and shuffled towards the stairway door, feeling somewhat unbalanced. On his way down the stairs, he clung tighter to the handrail than he normally would, and made sure both of his feet were on a step before proceeding down to the next one. He chose to believe that the pills were making him sluggish, rather than the weight of what he was going through earlier. Ignoring his mother’s greetings, he made a beeline for the nearest couch, slumping down directly between Eldis and Annakiss, two of Irene’s guests. While sitting down, he felt himself hit the latter’s shoulder harder than intended.

Annakiss flinched as Jotaro pushed into him, but otherwise didn’t seem too perturbed. “Mr. Cujoh, are you all right?” he asked, his voice holding a note of concern.

Jotaro didn’t answer. He was too focused on his what his mother was describing to the group, as she held up a thin book whose cover depicted several cartoon people in a town square setting. He had already played Mad Libs before, so he didn’t need to hear her spiel on how the game worked. But he had to make himself look like he was paying attention, otherwise he’d risk being bombarded with several annoying questions about his current state. He watched her take a pair of scissors to the book, cutting out pages before passing one to everybody alongside a pen or pencil. Hopefully he could distract himself once everyone got started.



When filling out his sheet, he placed little focus on creating the funniest story possible, or anything that flowed coherently in general. Instead, he just picked the first word that came to mind in a specific category. For instance, if a blank asked for a body part, he’d just write “arm”; if it asked for a food, he’d write “bread”; if it asked for an animal, he’d write “fish”... it continued in this manner. But with every word he wrote, he felt his head pound. For a few seconds, he just brushed it off as more side effects from the pills.

However, he soon realized the true cause of this onslaught of pain. The visions were coming back stronger than ever. He could see, hear, feel, smell, and even taste everything that never happened to him. Gritting his teeth, he tried to resist the sensations in his head by writing words that didn’t match the scenario at all. Roaring waves, green grass, beautiful women, fallen comrades... He didn’t recall any of these being in his visions, so maybe if he pushed them to the front of his mind, it’d help. And sure enough, it did a little bit. But the false memories only slowed down, and never actually stopped. Nevertheless, Jotaro considered it a victory. He could still sort of focus on finishing his sheet, which was his main goal for the time being.

“Is everyone finished?” his mom asked. She was quickly met with a series of affirmative replies, to which she responded by getting up and walking around the room to collect everybody’s sheets. “All right. Now I’m going to shuffle them around so we can all read them aloud. Then once we’re done, we can guess who wrote them.”

“Did you come up with the idea yourself, Mrs. Cujoh?” Annakiss asked.

“No, but I heard it from a friend. She told me it added a whole new dimension of fun to this.” After mixing the pages around in her hands a bit longer, she went around the room passing them around. Jotaro was met with a new sheet of paper in his hands, bearing handwriting he didn’t recognize. He figured this whole “dimension of fun” would only apply in this case, but at the same time, he knew it’d only be easier because he narrowed it down in his head that it wasn’t Irene or his mom. “Now who wants to go first?” he heard her say.

“I will,” Annakiss answered.

“Thank you, Annakiss. Let’s hear it.”

Annakiss cleared his throat and pulled a strand of pink hair behind his ear before reading what was on his page. “So this one’s called ‘My Crazy Dreams’. Here goes…”

“Sometimes, when people wake up on Christmas, they have some strange dreams. For instance, I had a dream I was visiting my uncle in Japan. But my body was made of space dust, and I could move through windows. We talked about the apocalypse and my love life. Then I gave him a journal and disappeared. It’s too bad this was just a dream!”

Jotaro had no intention of listening to these crazy stories. But for some reason, the words Annakiss spoke went straight to his brain. As he spoke, Jotaro felt himself being immersed into the scenario with no connection to his current surroundings. His body being made of so-called “space dust”, it being Christmas in Japan… And the mystery man was there, too – as the “uncle” described in the Mad Lib! And even though Annakiss had only vaguely alluded to the “love life” discussions, he clearly heard the mystery man make some sort of love confession. Sure, Jotaro falsely remembered himself rejecting this confession – after all, wasn’t this guy supposed to be family as well? But the combined vividity and absurdity of this situation had a chokehold on him. His body was rigid, frozen in place. He didn’t blink for the whole time Annakiss was reading, and he barely breathed. All the while, his head pounded stronger than it had before – a sharp, stabbing pain that started in his temples and spread throughout the rest of his head. It was so strong and sudden that all Jotaro could do was pass out.

Within seconds, everyone else was sent into a frenzy. Irene was the first to react, yelping in shock and rushing to her father’s side to check on him. While her grandmother worked to quell the tensions of the remaining relatives, she held one hand in front of his face and took hold of his wrist with the other, using her thumb to check for a pulse. Luckily for her, she could feel a faint but still present pulse, alongside shallow yet steady breathing against her free hand. “He’s still alive,” she said. “Hasn’t responded, though.”

“Should we stay here?” Eldis asked. “I mean, someone’s gotta keep an eye on him. But at the same time, I don’t think playing Mad Libs in the same room seems like a good idea.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Irene answered. “Everyone else can go to the living room or something.”

_______________________________

Of course, Jotaro was completely unaware of his family’s reactions to him passing out. For what felt like hours, all that came through his head was blackness and silence. No stimuli from the outside world or his mind, just an empty void. He perceived nothing – he just laid there in the rec room, which had long since become dark and lonely after everyone went home. But the moment he started to perceive again, it was everything he’d feared and more.

Was this a dream? A new vision? A combination of the two? Jotaro didn’t know. He just felt himself floating down – no longer human, but a construct formed of bright stars and black clouds. The air around him was cold and dry, and the night sky was as dark as the clouds that formed his new body. Taking a look around, he noticed he was in a small, sleepy town where blocks of quaintly-facaded houses were broken up by large expanses of barren fields. Only a few scattered streetlights illuminated his surroundings, with no moon or stars to be seen aside from the electric blue lines that delineated himself from the rest of the world. Once his feet touched ground, he started taking slow, methodical steps forward. But he didn’t feel like he himself was moving forward. It was as if some roguish god was moving him along, pulling invisible strings and manipulating him like a marionette.

He found himself approaching an eerily familiar house. Its walls appeared to be made of grey cement, and he could make out the wine-red shutters even in the darkness. It didn’t stick out too much from the rest of the houses in its block, yet Jotaro knew this house had something special to it. At least, that was what he surmised considering there was no way he could change his course. He just kept moving forward at the same pace, eyes locked onto the dimly-lit window sticking out just above the snow line. As he walked, he felt winter’s bite chill him from the inside out. Yet he felt no physical discomfort. Could it be a side effect of his new form? Or was it because something much greater than mere coldness would soon unnerve him?

His heart should have been pounding so deeply that it would threaten to burst out of his chest. Yet his celestial body had no heart to speak of. At this point, it was unclear whether or not Jotaro should consider this a pro or a con. For now, he decided he’d count it as a blessing, because the uncertainty and lack of control he felt in this moment sent his head into a tailspin. And this spin grew faster and more chaotic the closer he got to the window. Stay away… Stay away… Stay away… Jotaro kept mentally repeating this mantra, hoping his body would listen and turn back. But it was useless. His knees bent and his hands came forward, moving towards the window. Stay away… Stay away…

His eyes instantly fixed themselves to the bed in the corner of the small basement room, refusing to let go. Within milliseconds of seeing that familiar black Regent, a fresh wave of pain and dread surged through Jotaro’s body. But he stayed serene as ever on the outside, his countenance preventing himself from expressing what he truly felt. As the mystery man stepped closer, he followed him with his eyes, praying the situation wouldn’t get worse. At first, it seemed like he was in the clear, as the man shuffled to the other back corner of the room to turn off a desktop radio. But instead of returning to the bed like Jotaro hoped, the man instead turned in the direction of the window, moving closer with that same slow shuffle.

Stay away… Stay away… Jotaro kept mentally repeating. Only this time, it wasn’t just directed at his own body, but at the other man’s as well. But this time, neither seemed to listen. The mystery man’s eyes were now fixed directly upon Jotaro’s, their dark hues matching the clouds that formed his new body. Their lids were open as far as they could go, and they bore a faint sheen of water that suggested the mystery man was just as unnerved by Jotaro’s appearance as Jotaro was of his. Which was somewhat of a relief, but this was quickly pushed aside as Jotaro’s fist reared back on its own. Crap… Jotaro thought. I can’t just attack this guy without thinking! But it was too late. His fist was already set in motion the moment that thought left his mind.

Fortunately, Jotaro’s fist only ventured forward enough to knock against the windowpane. Upon impact, it reset and knocked again in quick succession. A glassy echo resonated throughout the town, shaking Jotaro to the core. He no longer had any fear of attacking the mystery man directly, but that fear was swiftly replaced by that of the man attacking him instead. And judging from how this man reached for the window to pull it open, this seemed to be the way things were going. But as usual, Jotaro’s body wouldn’t respond whatsoever, even if his mind desperately needed it to move. All that remained was to wait… wait and see what this mystery man would do once he opened the window.

Jotaro noticed his lungs were now moving at a slightly slower rate. At first, he took it as a sign that things would improve soon. But upon seeing the mystery man poke his head forward, he started having doubts. Those doubts intensified when he felt his mouth start to move by itself. Powerless to stop it, he prayed he wouldn’t say the wrong thing. After all, even though he had never met this man, he knew he had a quick temper. And one false word would likely lead to his end. Mind racing, Jotaro placed all his hope into not messing up whatever he was going to say. Finally, he spoke.

“Josuke… It’s me.”

Jotaro’s eyes shot open as he sat bolt upright. He was no longer standing in front of an unknown house in a freezing town at an ungodly hour. Instead, he was back in the familiar rec room where he passed out hours ago. He was on the same couch that Irene’s friends had occupied, but they must have gone home by now. In fact, he was likely the only guest that hadn’t gone home. He was alone in the dark room, surrounded by silhouettes of furniture and unidentifiable faces of friends and family framed in old photographs. At least someone had the decency to cover him up with a fleecy throw blanket before leaving him alone.

But what difference did it make to him? The dream he just woke from had to be by far the most vividly uncomfortable experience he had tonight – nay, this season. He felt his fists ball up as tight as possible, nails digging deep into the flesh of his hands. his heartbeat and breathing sped up dramatically as an uncontrollable series of tremors coursed through his body. Unable to contain the sheer emotion building inside him, he reared his head back before slamming it face-first into the back of the couch. Upon impact, he let out a pained howl and held it as long and loud as he could. The stuffed fabric muted his cries and kept anyone else from hearing, but the message remained the same. Why the hell was all of this happening to Jotaro of all people? Why wouldn’t that damn man leave his head? Why did his visions of him kick into such a high gear in the winter? Why did he even bother coming to this stupid family gathering in the first place, where he undoubtedly humiliated himself by passing out at some stupid Mad Lib?

…Then a revelation hit him. If what went on in that dream truly reflected the visions that haunted him, then he now had a name to place to the face of that mystery man. Josuke… He couldn’t remember anyone important to him with that name, but maybe someone else he knew did. Starting tomorrow, he’d start asking around. Wiping away the last tears that lingered in his eyes, he laid down and tried to get some sleep. He knew he deserved it after this whole ordeal.


CHAPTER 2

Three weeks had passed since that family gathering. During that time, Jotaro could not stop thinking about that dream he had on the basement couch. His other visions of “Josuke” had laid dormant since then, but that one specific dream played in his head non-stop. As a result, it took him longer than usual to complete projects at work. He also found himself getting sidetracked on the commute home, nearly missing important traffic signals or other drivers on the road more often than usual. His home grew untidier, he started wearing the same clothes for days on end before taking them off, and he would forgo proper showers, drenching himself in cologne to mask his uncleanliness. That damn dream was wearing away at his executive function day by day, and he hated himself all the more for it.

He desperately needed someone to understand what he was going through, but he didn’t feel he could properly tell anyone without them brushing off his concerns as the ramblings of a madman. That didn’t stop him from trying earlier, though. But only a few people he’d talked to knew any “Josukes”, and their descriptions didn’t match the man who appeared in his dream at all. At a loss for who to talk to, Jotaro found himself looking to the only one who he felt would truly understand, yet would never be able to have a proper “conversation” with – his own Stand.

BlackStar was what all Stand Users wished their Stands were. Fast, powerful, accurate, and durable, it could pummel foes within an inch of their life in mere seconds. But its fighting ability wasn’t what Jotaro stopped to consider as it phased in front of him. He stared back at the Stand, paying close attention to the swirling black clouds and lines of dazzling electric blue stars that drew the shape of a tall, loincloth-wearing, flowing-haired humanoid figure. These were the very same black clouds and blue stars that he had transformed into during that dream. The connection sent another surge of confusion and pain through his whole body, leading him to suddenly double over, slapping his hands to his knees and letting out a sharp gasp.

“This… this can’t be,” he whispered, forcing himself to look his Stand in the eyes. “You… you look… just like how I did… What does this have… to do… with… Arrrrrgh!”

Suddenly, he felt a strong yet gentle pair of arms wrapping around his torso. He glanced over to see BlackStar’s head nestled in the crook of his neck. No way… BlackStar wasn’t usually the type of Stand to interact with its user at all, much less outright hug him. And Jotaro wasn’t the type to accept such a blatant display of affection. Yet he found himself leaning into the Stand’s hearty embrace, letting his eyes drift shut as he felt a firm hand rhythmically rubbing his back. After a minute or so, he returned the gesture, sinking his hand into the roots of BlackStar’s thick, dark hair and running his fingers through. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I needed that.”

That brief moment of skinship had given Jotaro enough motivation to put on a fresh set of clothes and get to work. However, he found himself slogging and struggling to pay attention shortly after arriving. The vision had wormed its way back into his head, only this time he had taken on BlackStar’s appearance, instead of his own but colored like the night sky. He made several feeble attempts to push it back and focus on his work, but not before wondering if he had made a mistake by venting to his Stand. Eventually, he decided he had.

He looked out the window of his 6th-floor office, sighed, and hung his head in the middle of his crowded desk, flopping his upper body down as he did so. By some miracle, the myriad of loose papers, writing implements, and assorted desk junk from seaside souvenir shops managed to stay in place even as his torso made impact with it. However, he could hear one small paper item fluttering to the floor underneath it. He laid in the centre of the desk for another moment before mustering up the motivation to check and see what had fallen. It was a business card, although he couldn’t quite see who it came from at his current vantage point. So he crouched down and reached for it, poking his fingers into a small crack between the desk and the floor until he got a rough hold on it.

It was a card for the Speedwagon Foundation. Jotaro remembered receiving the card at a marine biology conference he had attended four years ago in New Jersey. But he had no idea why an organization dedicated to researching so-called “unexplained phenomena” would have appeared at that conference. Sure, the oceans were home to many lifeforms that no one had truly discovered yet, but Jotaro knew that wasn’t truly what the Speedwagon Foundation’s wheelhouse was. No, the Speedwagon Foundation specialized in metaphysical and quantum research. Things like spirits, alternate dimensions, and most notably, Stands and their users. Perhaps someone must have surmised Jotaro was a Stand User and given him this card? That was likely, considering the theory that Stand Users could instinctively recognize one another without having to reveal their Stands.

Jotaro stared at the card a little longer, almost deciding to throw it away before an epiphany hit him. He could try contacting them to see if they could find out what was up with his visions. After all, what he was going through could only be described as “unexplained”, and that was the Speedwagon Foundation’s specific niche. So if anyone had an answer to his troubles, it would have to be them. He scanned the card, looking for a phone number or email address. He found both, but knowing the secretive nature of the organization, he assumed the “real” contact information would be hidden away. Summoning BlackStar, he used its enhanced vision to look again. He found it, carefully concealed within a series of intricate designs on the wheel-shaped logo.

_______________________________

Two days after sending an email to the Speedwagon Foundation’s office in Dallas, Jotaro found himself standing in front of the building itself. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside, mentally reviewing why he’d come here and what he hoped to gain from his visit. The visions… The events that played out within them… The concerning amount of alcohol and pills he’d consumed to dampen them… His dream in late February… Josuke…

The moment he thought of that name again, the enigmatic Josuke’s face bloomed into full view in the back of Jotaro’s mind. And he was close. His eyes held galaxies, reflecting every beam of light they took in, sparkling like cut and polished sapphires. His hair was perfectly coiffed, with nary a stray hair ruining his look. His face bore a daring, intrigued smile that beckoned Jotaro to come closer. Of course, such a feat would be impossible at this moment. But that smile gave Jotaro an extra burst of motivation to get to the bottom of this… and maybe even give in to Josuke’s suggestion should he succeed.

The screening process to get into the restricted section of the Speedwagon Foundation’s headquarters was, bar none, the most rigorous procedure Jotaro had ever undergone. He had to fill out tens of pages worth of paperwork in one sitting, go through up to an hour of questioning, and even demonstrate his Stand’s abilities to a panel of security personnel. But somehow he made it through without arousing any suspicion. Shaking like a leaf from exhaustion and leftover social pressure, he followed a tall blonde woman researcher through a narrow corridor into a small, unassuming office with nothing but a desk and two chairs.

“So, Mr. Cujoh,” the researcher began, picking up a chair and placing it behind her desk before sitting down and pulling out a clipboard and pen. “Would you please tell me what’s been bothering you for the past few months? We need as much detail as you can give.”

Jotaro’s breath wavered as he collected his thoughts. “OK…” he began, furrowing his brow and trying to suppress the anxiety that crept just below the surface. “So… For the past three months, I’d like to say… No, it’s been longer than that. It’s been going on and off for about two years, and it’s been ‘on’ for the past three months more than I’m used to. Anyway…” He let out a short, wordless exhale. “I’ve been having these visions in my head where I’m reliving events that seem like they’ve happened to me, but never truly did.”

The researcher jotted down a few notes on her clipboard. “Can you describe these visions?” she asked.

“I was just about to,” Jotaro said, nodding. “What’s been really bothering me about these visions, aside from the fact that they play in my head nonstop for hours at a time, is that they all centre around someone who doesn’t exist. At least, that’s what I can gather from talking to my family, friends, and colleagues about them.”

“I see.” The researcher scribbled down a few more notes. “Can you describe some of the scenarios that happen in the visions?”

Jotaro followed the researcher’s request, giving brief rundowns about the events that transpired in his head as she kept writing things down. All the while, he managed to stay relatively grounded, with a few occasional leg bounces or tight grips on the handles of his chair being the only indicators of his discomfort. But he knew that eventually he’d have to talk about Josuke. And the dread inside him grew stronger the more he talked. Hoping he could fend it off by stalling, he drew out the details in his descriptions with every successive vision he recounted. But that seemed to have the opposite effect, as he found himself bouncing his leg faster and mentally pleading the researcher to not bring Josuke up.

However, that didn’t work. Shortly after hearing about Jotaro’s fifth most recurring vision, the researcher held up a hand to temporarily silence him. “All right, Mr. Cujoh. I’ve got a decent amount of info on the events in your visions, but now i need to hear about the main figure in them. Could you please describe them for me? And please do so in as much detail as possible. We need as much information as you can provide.”

Jotaro froze. Fuck, he thought to himself. There it was – that moment he dreaded, but knew he couldn’t avoid. And yet telling the researcher about Josuke was far more daunting than any life-or-death Stand battle he’d experienced in his life. Sure, all the details were on full display in his head – Josuke’s height, eyes, fashion choices, ridiculous hairstyle – but getting those details from his brain to the researcher’s ears was nigh impossible. His mouth was dry, his breathing was shallow, and his body was quaking at an even faster rate than when he had just finished screening to get to this point. And even though he heard the researcher call his name, he couldn’t bring himself to answer. Why the hell was this so difficult?

“Mr. Cujoh, are you OK?” the researcher asked. Although her voice remained even, Jotaro could see her grip on the pen tighten. However, she didn’t seem to be doing so out of anxiety like him; rather, he feared she was getting impatient. Hopefully he could answer quickly.

Jotaro cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he half-lied. “I just… can’t bring myself to say his name. Not because I don’t have my thoughts in order, but… God, it’s hard.” He turned his body away from the researcher, hand instinctively reaching towards his forehead to grip the loose strand of hair that hung down above his eyebrow.

“Well, do you think you could write it out for me? Would that make things easier?”

“Yeah, it might.” He slowly turned around, noticing the researcher had placed her pen and clipboard in front of him, with a fresh page ready at the front. He inched his hand forward, but stopped short of actually picking up the pen. Goddammit. He couldn’t even write Josuke’s name. Either he was too emotionally weak, or Josuke’s hold on him was that strong. But he had to write it eventually, preferably sooner than later. But wait… What if he himself didn’t have to write Josuke’s name? Having someone else do it might be easier. And lucky for him, he had “someone” right inside of him. Hoping the researcher wouldn’t react negatively, he summoned BlackStar, who reached forward and picked up the pen with no trouble. It scrawled down “Josuke” in the centre of the blank page before phasing out and dropping the pen, letting it clatter down on the desk.

The researcher said nothing, simply nodding at the name that appeared on the page. “Josuke,” she mused before turning back to Jotaro. “Do you recall his last name?”

“No.”

“...I see. Any noticeable features? Scars, birthmarks, tattoos, hairstyles, anything like that?”

Once again, Jotaro found himself unable to properly tell the researcher about Josuke, even though he had his words planned out in his head. But instead of leaving an awkward pause, he let BlackStar’s handiwork do the talking again. With the clipboard and pen in hand, it started sketching an incredibly realistic portrait of Josuke, perfectly capturing every minute feature that was unique to him. Jotaro silently thanked BlackStar for not only saving him from having to force himself to speak, but also for capturing Josuke in a way that words couldn’t fully describe.

After BlackStar faded away for a second time, the researcher picked up the clipboard again, eyes widening at the sight of Josuke’s likeness on the page. “Wow,” she breathed. “I’ve never imagined anyone like that before.” Composing herself, she turned back to Jotaro. “And you’re certain this person doesn’t actually exist, yet you’re also not making him up?”

“Yes,” Jotaro grumbled. His mood had inexplicably taken a turn for the confrontational, even though he had no idea where it came from. It could just be a desire to get out of here as soon as possible. But at the same time, he had a suspicion it was also because of the researcher’s reaction to Josuke, like she held as much interest in him as he had. Goddammit, Jotaro, he thought to himself. Are you seriously getting jealous over someone that doesn’t exist?

The researcher’s pen darted across the clipboard, annotating BlackStar’s sketch of Josuke and pointing special attention to some of his distinguishing features. “All right.” She tucked the pen and clipboard to the side of her desk before turning back to face Jotaro. “So what I’m going to do is pass along this information to my colleagues. For now, my best estimate is that your problems are caused by interdimensional memory implantation. Now, have you ever been involved in any Stand battles that involved your or another person’s Stand manipulating alternate dimensions?”

“Not that I know of,” Jotaro answered, finding himself more able to relax now that the conversation had shifted away from Josuke.

“OK. So it’s likely that in another dimension, there was an incarnation of you who was involved with someone capable of manipulating the dimensional fabric of the universe. And this ‘Josuke’ was likely someone in this other dimension that your counterpart had a very close relationship with. What exactly that relationship was, I don’t know for sure. But my guess is that it was close enough to transcend dimensions, leaving you with memories of experiences your counterpart had, but you yourself didn’t.

“I’m going to give this information to our Interdimensional Anomalies department, and in a few days, they’ll send a package to your home with a better rundown of what’s happening to you. Depending on how deep of an insight we can get into Josuke, we might even have something figured out that can help you reconnect with him in some way. Of course, if we do, please note that it is highly experimental, and may have some unpleasant side effects if something goes wrong.”

Jotaro could barely follow what the researcher told him, let alone believe half of it. But there was something deep inside him that latched onto her words like a vicegrip, wanting to squeeze every last drop of hope out of it. Even if it sounded too good to be true, he couldn’t let the possibility of an answer go to waste. “Thanks,” he said, abruptly rising from his chair. “I’m glad you could help me out.” Barely bothering to let the researcher properly see him off, he made a beeline for the exit, making haste getting out of the building and back to Florida as soon as possible. The less time he wasted in the waiting period, the better.

_______________________________

A few days had passed since Jotaro returned home from his visit to the Speedwagon Foundation. In that time, the rate at which he experienced his visions had hit an all-time high – even greater than when he was at his mother’s. New ones had begun circulating, including a rather grisly one where he needed to enlist Josuke’s help fending off a rat Stand User who had melted the flesh of his arm into a bloody, squirming pulp. Fortunately, a little extra pain medication was enough to get them out of his head, at least for the first two days. But that strategy ended up losing effectiveness later on, and had to be supplemented with cheap wine. So there Jotaro laid, belly-up on the living room couch with his fourth glass of boxed pinot noir, praying that the pounding in his head would go away soon.

It did not go away. In fact, a new type of pounding joined in – a heavy fist forcefully knocking at his front door. Jotaro slumped off the couch and took a peek out the window to see who it was, hoping it was either a delivery man or just some mischievous kids playing ding-dong ditch. But upon seeing who it was, his eyes shot open and his breath caught itself in its throat. A tall, bald, heavyset man stood bolt upright at the other side of the door. He wore a black and white business suit, dark sunglasses, and a black medical mask. There were no logos or other insignia on his clothing or in the black SUV parked nearby that Jotaro assumed he arrived in. He held a manila envelope in his hand that looked like it was full.

Hoping to get a better look at said envelope, Jotaro summoned BlackStar behind him and used its enhanced vision to zoom in on it. Sure enough, he could faintly make out the Speedwagon foundation insignia on an unobscured corner. He assumed this was the literature package that they had told him about earlier. Relieved that he could finally get more information, he made his way to the door, moving slowly so as not to trip over his own feet and give away the fact that he was drunk.

“Cujoh?” the man asked, voice barely rising above a stage-whisper.

“That’s me,” Jotaro answered.

“Perfect.” The man thrust the envelope in Jotaro’s hands. “Tell no one about this.” Then he turned around, power-walked back to the SUV, started it up, and sped away.

Jotaro stared off into the distance, eyes following the SUV as it left his field of view. Then he went back inside, locking the door before staggering upstairs to his room. Sitting on the edge of his bed with bated breath, he inched his hand towards the loop holding the envelope shut before slipping it off and lifting the flap. He turned it around, letting all the papers slide out into his free hand. Turning it around to reveal the front cover, he silently mouthed the text that appeared in small, typewritten letters: “Speedwagon Foundation Report #46X346JC: Jotaro Cujoh, Subject: Interdimensional Memory Implantation.”

Interdimensional what now? Jotaro thought to himself. Deciding not to get too hung up on what the words on the front page meant, he flipped to the body of the text and started reading. The text was loaded with jargon, but Jotaro was able to glean information by reading between the lines and applying what he saw on the page to what he already knew. And what he saw would finally provide him with an answer to his troubles. Hopefully it would be worth it.

The first section was a brief dossier on Josuke Higashikata – the man who haunted Jotaro’s visions for years. All of the information was accurate to what Jotaro remembered – his height, age, hometown, even past vacation destinations. He had no idea how the Speedwagon Foundation was able to come across all this information, but it all matched perfectly with what he saw in the visions. The sketch of Josuke’s likeness included in this dossier was an even more accurate match with what Jotaro saw. Even though it lacked some fine details, seeing an image of Josuke in real life sent a sharp wave of awed shivers up and down Jotaro’s spine. He held it closer to his face, close enough that his eyelashes brushed up against it when he blinked. God... What he’d do to have Josuke this close to him in person.

He pulled the paper away from his face, forcing himself to get back on track. He read on, turning the page to another section. This one told a brief history of Josuke Higashikata’s family – one that as Jotaro read on, seemed eerily similar to his own. In fact, all that differed aside from a few spellings of names was a particularly sordid detail about Josuke’s birth – his father occupied a similar position in the lineage to Jotaro’s grandfather, but since he had an affair with a young college student, he was able to pass along his seed and create Josuke. Jotaro pressed his palm to his forehead in disgust. Goddammit, old man, he thought. Couldn’t keep it in your pants even in a different dimension… At least Jiji didn’t go that far in my timeline.

But that posed another question. Did Jotaro have a counterpart in this alternate dimension? He read back, tracing the family lineage to where he’d be. Sure enough, he found himself, or rather, a figure that bore an uncanny similarity. Jotaro Kujo – born 1970, to Sadao and Holy Kujo… So if he traced the lineage again, that would make him… Josuke’s nephew. He recoiled a bit after realizing, finding it strange that he would be so attached to someone who was not only his uncle, but a great deal younger than him. Surely their relation would have to be closer in order for his visions to strike him so powerfully. But he figured the information on the page must be as true as possible, given what he told the foundation.

As he read on, he realized everything else in the report added up almost perfectly with what he envisioned on those harsh winter nights. The visions started playing in his head again, only this time, the pieces fell perfectly into place, fully removing the uncertainty and discomfort that plagued Jotaro so deeply. Instead, they became comforting and nostalgic. A wave of warmth blossomed in Jotaro’s core as he closed his eyes, immersing himself in the visions of him and Josuke celebrating after a hard-fought battle with an enemy Stand User, or of them walking the streets of Morioh at a lively festival, or of them huddling together on a chilly night. For a short time, he allowed himself to forget that he never met Josuke. All that mattered right now was that everything made sense, and that he could finally free himself from the pain that came from not knowing.

Jotaro let himself sit in this state of bliss for a few minutes longer. Then he figured he’d have to get himself back on track. After all, one question still nagged in the back of his head – why did he have all these memories of Josuke in his head, despite him never existing in this dimension, let alone never having met him? He opened his eyes, flipping the next page of the report into view. The heading read: Incident 154SO - Dimension AH20030311. What followed was a series of mini-dossiers about a few people who looked oddly similar to Irene and her friends, except for one unfamiliar man. But as Jotaro read on, this unfamiliar man – Enrico Pucci, according to the report – was soon revealed to be the root cause of his fragmented visions, as well as the emotional pain that accompanied them. Pucci’s Stand had not only mortally wounded Jotaro Kujo, but had also caused a cataclysmic rift between universes. This rift had effectively Jotaro and his relatives’ counterparts from existence, including Josuke Higashikata. As a result, even though the events in Jotaro’s head may very well have happened in real life, the people he spent them with never existed.

Jotaro dropped the papers in his hands, taken aback at the conclusions drawn from it. At first, he couldn’t believe what the Speedwagon Foundation was implying. Not only did it barely make logical sense, but he didn’t want to admit to himself that this whole ordeal of trying to contact the foundation was fruitless in the end. But the more he mulled it over to himself, the more it had to be true. After all, the Speedwagon foundation was the number-one authority on this kind of interdimensional stuff, and Jotaro couldn’t see them lying to him. So now he had to come to terms with the fact that he was losing sleep, slipping at work, almost dying on the road, and driving himself further into addiction all over someone that never existed in the first place.

His body quaked. His jaw clenched, teeth pressing and grinding deep into one another. The beginnings of tears started to form in his eyes, and this time he didn’t bother to hold them back. His hands shot to the side, grabbing a pillow and hurling it across the room, landing against a lamp on his desk, which fell over. Not bothering to pick it back up, Jotaro threw himself at his bedroom floor, grabbing the fallen report papers and tearing them to shreds with his bare hands, agonized howls and curses spewing out of his mouth all the while. He wasn’t sure what hurt more – the fact that Josuke never existed, the death of his interdimensional counterpart that caused this whole mess, or his own foolishness making him act this way. But it didn’t matter. At this point, nothing did. All he could do was hang his head on the floor in the middle of the room, sobbing to himself.

It took longer than Jotaro would have liked for him to properly compose himself. But his eyes eventually dried up after a good half-hour of waterworks. Feeling the sticky residue of dried tears on his face, he pushed himself up off the floor, preparing to walk to the bathroom and wash his face clean. But upon noticing the torn shreds of paper on the floor, he suddenly remembered something.

“...We might even have something figured out that can help you reconnect with him in some way.”

The Speedwagon Foundation researcher’s words echoed through his mind. And he realized. Hope wasn’t truly lost. There was still a faint chance that he and Josuke could meet for real. Mentally chiding himself for tearing up the papers, he got to work picking up all the pieces he could find. There were fewer than he anticipated, which was good. But it would still likely take more than one evening to fully reassemble the document. It didn’t matter, though. If it would lead Jotaro closer to closure, he’d go through with it.

_______________________________

Wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead, Jotaro stared down at his finished handiwork. He had spent the last three nights hastily patching together the torn-up document with Scotch tape and assumptions based on where lines were torn and words made sense. Handing the work off to BlackStar for several stretches certainly made things easier. But now that he had the assumed answer to his troubles in front of him, all he had to do was read it.

Postulational Multiversal Dimension Synthesis… According to the heading, that was what Jotaro needed to finally meet Josuke. Reading further, he discovered that this was essentially a method of merging alternate dimensions. It involved both parties entering a simulated environment that combined characteristics of both dimensions depending on how the parties described them. It sounded impossible, but given the Speedwagon Foundation’s reputation, Jotaro assumed that it somehow worked. At least, it had a chance to. But as Jotaro read on, the chances of something going wrong in this process exceeded that of actually meeting Josuke. He winced at the long list of negative side effects, which included: rapid aging as a result of time dilation, losing parts of the body in the simulation and never being able to get them back, and undocumented spiritual anomalies being summoned to this world from the simulation. But the most drastic one came at the end of the list. If Jotaro were to die or otherwise be trapped inside the simulation, other people’s memories of him would become fragmented in the same way his memories of Josuke’s were.

Of course, Jotaro had assumed there would be drawbacks to potentially meeting Josuke in person. But he had no idea they would be as drastic as this. And as much as he wanted to see Josuke for real, the thought of him potentially infecting everyone he knew with persistent uncomfortable visions was something he couldn’t bear to dwell on. At the same time, though, he needed closure with Josuke. And the more time he went without it, the more his visions would amplify in both frequency and intensity.

That night, he could barely sleep. His mind jumped between the two possible outcomes, zeroing in on the worst-case scenarios of each one. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like attempting Postulational Multiversal Dimension Synthesis was the better option. After all, there was a chance that things would go well after all, meaning that not only would Jotaro’s desire to see Josuke be satisfied, but he wouldn’t have to deal with the burden of the visions anymore. But at the same time, the thought of things going wrong in the process never truly left him. And as much as he wanted closure with this whole situation, he also wanted to protect those he knew in this dimension. And part of protecting them would mean not allowing them to succumb to the same visions he’d been dealing with. In the end, he decided to give it a little longer, fully weighing the pros and cons of each side before he fully committed. So he closed his eyes, pulled the sheets further up, and let his mind drift away as much as it could before hopefully reaching a deep sleep.

CHAPTER 3

Jotaro stood before the main building of the Speedwagon Foundation’s headquarters, prepared to go in for the second time. He was sweating bullets, and not just because of the Texas heat. His heart was also pounding a mile a minute inside his chest, and his eyes refused to leave the wheel-shaped insignia just above the doors. But these weren’t the signs of nervousness – rather, they represented a more positive form of anticipation this time. After a few days of weighing out every foreseeable outcome of Postulational Multiversal Dimension Synthesis, he agreed to try it out.

Of course, no one in his family, workplace, or circle of friends knew about this. Sure, they knew he was in Dallas for business with the Speedwagon Foundation. But he had made up a cover story where the foundation would run him through a series of grueling trials to see if he was fit for biological research in the absolute depths of the ocean. That way, if he died trying to meet Josuke, people hopefully wouldn’t ask as many questions. Then again, it’s not like it would matter. They wouldn’t remember him if he died in another dimension. But Jotaro had to admit his cover story did put himself at ease. And there was only one way to find out the true outcome of Postulational Multiversal Dimension Synthesis. Keeping his head high and his pace even, he opened the doors and stepped inside the headquarters.

He was surprised at how much faster the screening process went by this time. The paperwork was far lighter, coming down to a mere 4 pages. In addition, he didn’t have to show his Stand to anyone. The only new step to the process was a brief questionnaire where he had to give details about his last visit. But since most of the people screening him could recognize his face, the reason he’d come back, and even some of his alternate self’s history with Josuke, they must have figured he wouldn’t pose a threat to the foundation’s secrets. But even though the screening process didn’t worry Jotaro, he soon felt his stress levels creep up as two men clad in the same all-black, identity-obscuring garb escorted him down a series of long, windowless hallways.

Their final destination was a large room jam-packed with elaborate machinery. Numerous computer consoles surrounded the perimeter of the room, each staffed by a beleaguered-looking researcher. The lines of code running down each screen seemed to disappear mere moments after they were first typed, and it wasn’t clear whether this was because the machines were programmed to hide previously-typed code, or because the researchers’ typing was just that fast. Several other complex machines sat in the room, their flashing, buzzing, and intermittent beeping creating an eerie atmosphere. But the main feature of this room was a large plexiglass capsule smack in the centre of it. It was about the size of a shower stall, but instead of it holding a showerhead and tap, it had a headset that looked to be attached to its ceiling by a mechanical arm. Several smaller machines lined the outside of the capsule, slowly moving around the perimeter on a set of thin rails.

“OK, Mr. Cujoh,” one of the men began, closing a heavy door behind them. “You’re here for Postulational Multiversal Dimension Synthesis, correct?”

“That’s correct,” Jotaro answered, nodding. His heart still thrummed, but this time there was a greater note of uncertainty to it. Perhaps it was because he’d reached a point of no return, and the negative possibilities were starting to weigh on him again. But he kept his hopes up, knowing that no matter what happened, he’d finally be able to meet Josuke.

“All right,” the man continued, stepping forward and gesturing towards the glass capsule. “So this right here is our Synthesis Chamber. State of the art technology, only machine of its kind existing in the world today. Once our team’s finished setting it up, we’re gonna get you to step inside. You’ll put on the headset that’s sticking out of the ceiling. It’s gonna have some basic instructions on it, just so we can calibrate your height, weight, armspan, body shape, all that jazz. Once you follow those prompts, it’ll take the dimensions that the scanning devices measured and combine that with everything you told us about your visions, as well as the info we got about Mr. Higashikata and the things you and him did together. You’ll be knocked out for a little while, but once you’re lucid again, you don’t have to worry about any harm coming to you from this dimension. The other dimension, however… that might be a different story. But we’ve set this machine up to ensure the least possible amount of violence in the simulation.”

“Huh.” Jotaro blinked, having barely paid attention to the man’s words aside from the last few sentences. “So you said you’re not trying to put me in a life-or-death situation. Then why did that thing you sent me talk about me potentially dying and making everyone I know forget about me?”

“Well, you see, Mr. Cujoh, the aim of Postulational Multiversal Dimensional Synthesis is that two people can meet each other across dimensions by undergoing the same process. This means that somewhere in the multiverse, Mr. Higashikata is going through the same procedure as you. There’s a chance that he might view you as a threat, and therefore try to kill or otherwise hurt you. We can’t do anything to stop that, because his free will is totally separate from what we put into the machine. Fortunately, since you’re a Stand User, we’ve set it up so that BlackStar can come with you through the process and help you fight if needed. Of course, any injury that comes to Josuke in the simulation will affect him in his own dimension, so we ask that you resolve all conflicts with minimal violence. Do you understand what I’m getting at?”

Jotaro paused, taking in all of the man’s words. On the one hand, he understood them a lot better than when he explained how Postulational Multiversal Dimensional Synthesis worked. But on the other hand, he couldn’t help but feel more conflicted. Sure, it was extremely likely that the man was exaggerating how much of a threat Josuke posed to Jotaro. After all, nothing in Jotaro’s visions indicated that Josuke would want to harm him. In addition, the dossier had only mentioned one brief spat between the two at the very beginning of their relationship, and it was one that Jotaro was easily able to resolve. But the threat still remained, and subsequently so did the chance that he might not be able to come back.

“Mr. Cujoh?”

The man’s words snapped Jotaro back to reality. He was getting off track again. It wasn’t like him to fear death so much. Plus, he’d already made his decision by coming all this way. All that remained was to actually put it into action. Steeling himself again, he took a deep breath. “I understand,” he said, drawing his right hand into a confident fist. “Now how much longer until the machine’s ready?”

“Only about a minute or so. We just have to input some final specifications.” The man’s eyes darted around the room, catching glimpses of the researchers’ progress. It looked like most of them had finished, as they faced towards him and away from their keyboards. Only one straggler remained, taking some time to scroll through their code and make a few last-minute corrections before turning around and facing him like the rest of their colleagues. Mentally taking note of the situation, the man nodded. “It looks like we’re ready to go.” He beckoned for Jotaro to follow him, walking over to the capsule and touching a key fob to the lock on its door before opening it. “You may enter.”

Jotaro stepped inside the capsule, heart pounding at an all-time high. Strangely enough, he realized that he hadn’t had any visions since arriving in Dallas. The thought of Josuke obviously occupied his mind pretty heavily, but it never got any more vivid or stressful than that. Maybe it was because he’d finally get some closure? That had to be it. As he got strapped into the headset and followed its prompts, the comforting knowledge that this whole ordeal was finally coming to an end spread over his body, making him feel like the pull of gravity on his body was rapidly decreasing. A tingling sensation soon followed as his vision faded to pitch black. It was as if he was drifting into sleep, but there was something there preventing him from fully succumbing. The only thing Jotaro could do at this point was wait – wait for something or someone to appear in his field of perception.

_______________________________

When he finally came to, he found himself surrounded by nothingness. Just him and a pure, endless white void. He felt a floor against his feet, but he couldn’t see where it began. No one else was there – just him. After looking around for a few more seconds, he summoned the courage to start walking forward. His steps were small and slow, yet they echoed throughout the void with an eerie reverb. All the while, his eyes darted back and forth, with the occasional check behind him to make sure he wasn’t being followed. Eventually, he spied a faint, featureless figure in the distance. Could it be Josuke? He was too far away to tell, but the only true way to know was by continuing onward.

As he advanced, Jotaro saw the space around him transform from a white void to an oddly familiar townscape. It reminded him of the town he saw in that dream where he first learned Josuke’s name, but this time the dark sky had been replaced with the pale yellow of dawn, and the white snow with green grass and gray cobbles. Rows of large houses with brightly-colored roofs lined the streets, leading to an open area with a fountain and a bus stop. It was there that Jotaro noticed that figure again, but this time, they were far more recognizable. The sparkle in his dark eyes… The fastidiously-coiffed Regent… The daring grin plastered across his face… This had to be him.

Jotaro stopped for a moment, gathering his bearings. This was it. The moment he’d been waiting for. Josuke was here in front of him. He could feel his heart beating a relentless rhythm inside his chest as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. There was only one thing he had to do in order to fully reconnect with Josuke. His diaphragm expanded as a rush of cool, breezy summer air filled his lungs.

“Josuke… it’s me. I’ve come here to see you.”

Almost immediately, Josuke’s eyes widened as his mouth slowly opened. He looked to be in pure awe, as if he, too was meeting Jotaro in person for the first time. “Jotaro-san,” he breathed, not taking his eyes off Jotaro except for a few blinks. “It can’t be…”

“It is.” Jotaro nodded, his face bearing a serene smile. “I can’t believe it myself, but we’re finally here. Together.”

Josuke stared at Jotaro a bit longer, mesmerised by his imposing yet reassuring presence. But his expression unexpectedly changed from one of awe to one of suspicion. “Wait a sec,” he muttered, brow furrowing. “How do I know you’re the real Jotaro and not an impostor? For all I know, this could be a trap set by those scientists.” He glared daggers at Jotaro, stance tensing and a pale violet aura forming around his whole body. “If you’re the real Jotaro, I want you to prove it to me. Show me what you’ve got!”

The aura surrounding Josuke rose higher as a humanoid figure faded into view. Its body was pink and white, with various heart motifs adorning its armor. Jotaro remembered this figure well – this was Crazy Diamond, the Stand that he and his had fought numerous grueling battles alongside. But this time, Josuke had turned this Stand against him. Jotaro had no reason to believe that Josuke truly meant any harm, but he knew there was no way he’d be leaving this dimension without fighting back. So he took Josuke up on his offer, and prepared to summon BlackStar. But the name coming out of his mouth was different from what he’d usually call – as would be the Stand who’d arrive by his side.

“Star… Platinum!”

A familiar figure appeared by Jotaro’s side, but this was not BlackStar. At least, not in appearance. Instead of a completely black shape delineated with electric blue, this Stand’s coloring appeared to be a combination of purple, blue, and white, with a few gold accents thrown in for good measure. Yet the flowing hair, loincloth, and well-built musculature on this figure appeared just as they did on BlackStar. And it fought just as ferociously and persistently as BlackStar. With a confident “ORA!”, the Stand charged forward, needing only minimal control from Jotaro to lunge forward and deliver a flurry of punches to Crazy Diamond’s chest.

Josuke’s body lurched back, knocked to the ground by an invisible force. Yet despite this, the young man was smirking up at Jotaro and Star Platinum. “Not bad,” he said. “You certainly hit as hard as I remember. But can you take hits just as well?”

Right on cue, Crazy Diamond’s arms lashed forward, grabbing onto Star Platinum’s shoulders and pulling it into a heavily-armored knee, its heart-shaped cap plowing right into Star Platinum’s abdomen. Jotaro felt the air being knocked out of his lungs, stumbling back but not tripping over anything. He watched as his Stand wrestled its way out of Crazy Diamond’s grip, bobbing and weaving to skillfully dodge a flurry of blows from Josuke’s Stand. He did take a few more nasty hits in the process – one to the jaw, another to the shoulder – but neither were enough to knock him down for good. All the while, he directed Star Platinum to try and hit Crazy Diamond as well, but Josuke seemed to be one step ahead all the while. Somehow, even though Crazy Diamond’s abilities were nowhere near as refined as Star Platinum’s, Jotaro never managed to land any hits. But then it hit him. There was one thing he could do that Josuke and Crazy Diamond couldn’t.

“Star Platinum… The World!”

At Jotaro’s words, time froze, if only for two seconds. But those two seconds were just enough time for Star Platinum to land a haymaker square in Crazy Diamond’s gut. Once time resumed, Josuke’s body was flung backward, knocking him into the nearby fountain. However, in that brief moment of frozen time, Jotaro had begun to sprint towards the fountain. And lucky for both him and Josuke, he’d arrived there at the right moment, stepping inside and catching Josuke squarely in his arms before his body hit the stone.

Josuke was speechless for a few seconds, trying to process what had just happened. But the moment he realized that Jotaro had caught him, he banished Crazy Diamond and turned to face Jotaro with a wide, sincere smile on his face. “It is you,” he said, pausing again before a ripple of warm laughter left his mouth. “It is you after all, Jotaro!” He slipped out of Jotaro’s arms, getting a steady stance in the middle of the fountain before delivering a hearty embrace of his own.

Jotaro’s eyes widened when met with Josuke’s surprisingly strong grip on his body. But once he was able to catch his breath and regain his bearings, he hugged Josuke back. “I missed you so much,” he whispered, tenderly massaging any places on Josuke’s body that had been impacted when their Stands fought. He said nothing after that, letting the rush of moving water and the distant choir of birds be the only sounds accompanying their reunion.

The silence was broken when Josuke spoke up again. “Hey,” he said, loosening his grip on Jotaro. “Do you remember when we were invited to that party cruise, and you and I spent half of it on the top deck looking over the water together?”

Jotaro let out an embarrassed chuckle. “It was because of that annoying-ass music they were blasting everywhere else. God… now you’ve put it in my head again. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Don’t blame me,” Josuke joked back. “Blame the sound of the water in the fountain. That’s what took me back to that night.”

The two of them shared another short laugh before Jotaro brought up another memory. “Do you remember when you and I were holed up at your place all week without power? In the middle of a snowstorm?”

“Oh, not that time!” Josuke playfully rolled his eyes. “The only reason you cling so hard to that memory is because we had to huddle up so close with one another. Guess what? To this day, I still have a grudge against our kotatsu for going out and making us do that!”

“Come on,” Jotaro snickered. “You gotta admit it was pretty nice.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The two men gripped each other tighter as they stood in the middle of the fountain, water lapping at their ankles. Jotaro caressed the small of Josuke’s back, then slowly eased his hand up his spine until reaching the back of his neck. Keeping his other hand firmly clasped to Josuke’s, he pushed forward, guiding his partner’s head toward his shoulder. But out of nowhere, he was met with a sharp pinch to the hand that was holding Josuke’s. He shot a miffed glance at Josuke, only to be met with three familiar words.

“Watch the hair.”

“Oh, right. Forgot about that.” Jotaro was a little resentful at Josuke for snapping at him, but that resentment was quick to fade once he felt the bare skin on Josuke’s neck again. Finally having his partner’s head at his shoulder, he closed his eyes, taking in the subtle scent of hairspray and sandalwood cologne that lingered on Josuke. His heart pounded, although this time it was more of a slow and steady beat instead of the frenetic tattoo he felt when approaching the Speedwagon Foundation HQ earlier. Clearly, Josuke’s presence was stirring up some kind of anticipation in him, although he wasn’t quite sure what there was to anticipate. After all, he’d finally come to the crux of his quest to find out who haunted his visions for so long, right? Unless there was something else he wanted that he didn’t know about…

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

Glancing down, Jotaro noticed that Josuke’s head had risen from its place on his shoulder. He also saw that Josuke’s eyes were now closed, and his lips were parted as if waiting for someone else’s to join them. Good grief, Jotaro thought to himself. We’ve only been together for a few minutes, and he already wants us to kiss. But deep down, he knew that he was waiting for this fateful moment himself, and this would be the only chance he’d have. So he followed Josuke’s cues, pulling him close and meeting him in a kiss he swore he’d never forget.

This was it. This was, without a doubt, THE moment that Jotaro had yearned for all these years. Not even his most passionate visions went this far, but had fate set their relationship differently when they knew each other, he was certain he and Josuke would have kissed at least once. But now that this was no longer an issue, he was free to lose himself. He sunk deeper into Josuke’s lips, keeping a firm grip on the back of his neck. There was no way he could let him go now that he had found him. His teeth grazed Josuke’s bottom lip as his tongue teased along where their mouths met. Allowing Josuke to reciprocate, he breathed in deep, taking in every last molecule of their combined scents. Yes… He finally made it. This was everything he’d hoped for, and more. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. Just him, Josuke, and the quiet townscape surrounding them.

When they finally broke from their kiss, they stood there in another moment of fleeting silence, hands still clasped together as they continued to bask in each other’s presence. Gazing into each other’s eyes, both were thankful they hadn’t truly forgotten each other, even though they were separated by a reality-altering cataclysm years ago. Neither wanted to let go quite yet, although the slow fade of the townscape into the white void from which they emerged let them know that their time was running short.

Josuke was the first to let go. “Well, it looks like this is all the time we have left,” he said, a wistful smile crossing his face. “Too bad they haven’t perfected the technology enough to let us stay a little longer.”

“Damn right.” Jotaro sighed, eyes drifting downward. The water of the fountain started to fade away into nothingness, and he felt his feet and pant legs get drier as well, as if he was starting to un-feel the sensation of them getting wet. “Either way, I’m glad I could finally see you. You have no idea how much it was eating me up inside. …Or maybe you do, considering you had to do the same thing as me to get here.”

“Aw!” Josuke let out a short burst of laughter before turning around and starting on his way. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jotaro. Don’t forget about me.”

“I won’t. At least, I won’t forget your name this time. ‘Cause even after all this time, I still remembered you.”

As those words left Jotaro’s mouth, he stood in place, staring back at Josuke as he walked into the blankness up ahead. Even as the young man’s silhouette faded away, nothing could make him avert his eyes. This was all he had left of Josuke in person, and he needed to hold onto it as long as he could. And he did, even as an invisible weight slowly blossomed over his body. The void of white was slowly darkening as well, leaving him in dusk, and later pitch blackness. Yet he wasn’t sleeping. He didn’t dare close his eyes. Because if he did, he knew once he opened them, Josuke would be gone. It was inevitable… but he had to hold on just a little longer… before he had to return to the dimension he called home.

_______________________________

He awoke to the whirring, beeping, clicking, and chatter of the Speedwagon Foundation’s HQ. After opening his eyes, a message reading Postulational Multidimensional Synthesis Complete. Please wait for assistance before removing headset. greeted him on the small screen of the headset strapped onto his face. Shortly after, he heard the sound of the capsule door opening.

“Is everything all right, Mr. Cujoh?” one of the researchers asked. He and one of his weary-eyed colleagues got to work removing Jotaro from the capsule, working frantically to disconnect him from the headset and deactivate various other machines. “Are you hurt, tired, or otherwise uncomfortable?”

“Nope,” Jotaro answered, stretching out his arms and upper body. “‘Course, not outside of feeling cramped from being stuck for however long I was in there.”

The other researcher nodded, quickly pulling out a notepad from their pocket and jotting something down. “And what about the synthesis process itself? How did it go?”

“You should know,” Jotaro answered wryly. “You were probably watching the whole thing on one of these screens, weren’t you? Sick bastards.”

The man who led him in chuckled before jotting some things down on a notepad he pulled out of his pocket. “Now, before we let you go, Mr. Cujoh, there’s one thing we want to confirm.” He stepped forward, taking a deep breath and lifting his head to face Jotaro. “Are you satisfied with the results of Postulational Multiversal Dimensional Synthesis? Because this is the most we at the Speedwagon Foundation can do to help you gain closure with your fragmented memories.”

“Yes,” Jotaro said, nodding firmly. “Yes, I’m satisfied. It’s all clear in my head now. None of those memories feel fake anymore. Even if nobody else will know what I’m talking about when I describe them, I don’t care. They’re something special – for me and only me.”

All the researchers beamed in unison. “We’re glad we could assist you,” the notepad-carrying man said. “In a few days, we’ll correspond with you for one last package of information. It’s nothing too complicated. Just a summary of what went on in the Postulational Multiversal Dimension Synthesis process, so you can look back on your short time together whenever you feel like it. In addition, you can always tell us if there’s anything we missed in our report. We’re always striving to improve this technology here at the Speedwagon Foundation.”

“Thank you,” Jotaro said, readjusting his hat before he left. “I look forward to seeing it.”

And so, finally satisfied with the answer to his once-fragmented memories, Jotaro returned home to Florida. Staying consistent with his constructed story, he told everyone that he had been passed up for the marine voyage, and that the foundation would go on without him. They appeared disappointed, but Jotaro wasn’t bothered at all by this. No longer were the visions in his head harbingers of emotional agony; rather, they had brought great comfort to him whenever he reminisced about Josuke Higashikata – a secret known to him and him alone. His addictions vanished, his work ethic returned to its positive state, and his living space and daily routines became well-organized once again. And at every family gathering he attended since, he always found some way to bring Josuke with him, even if it came in the form of a corny fill-in-the-blank game that his mom liked.