Chapter Text
The Joestar clan gather themselves at the front of the building. Rapidly Scampering past pedestrians to avoid further problems transpiring, they search for the recently injured user. Thoroughly Ignoring the bystanders irrational remarks, observations and shouts. In the same way as most scuffles with enemy stand users go, the group are all tremendously persistent in their eagerness to exterminate the culprit behind their attack. Especially if the user in question were one of Dio’s many minions. Especially if they had critically maimed and mangled one of the travel parties closest comrades. Or in this case, caused one to become demented far beyond recognition.
The four men grind to a standstill in their very tracks. All almost collide with each other, stumbling, when they finally approach the man. The same man behind their gruelling, unspeakable debacle. The individual is collapsed onto his side, curled up into a clinched ball. He grasps at his abdomen, scraping at his bandaged torso, leaving prominent claw marks behind. He fearfully examines the gang of familiar faces leering over him. The faces he had aspired to assassinate in order to ultimately please his malevolent lord.
The man is the exact same individual Kakyoin had encountered earlier; the bloodied bandages, the hat, the coat and all. Except on this occasion, he seems a lot less intimidating. With the fact that he was currently cowering on the sand, hacking up sprays of scarlet, looking eerily reminiscent to that of a helpless animal. The Joestar group are wholeheartedly convinced that this is the enemy, and they are not leaving without a good fight. Particularly Jotaro. The villain uplifts one shaky right hand to block his dirtied expression.
“No! Please don't kill me!” He cries like any usual enemy would.
The crowd do not fall for his plea. After all, it’s all too typical to witness from an enemy stand user. Let alone, this far into their long-evolving journey. Let alone, after falling victim to an excruciating amount of constant enemy attacks. The man proceeds to noisily sob into his left hand, pulling an almost child like facade and revealing his crooked teeth. He starts convulsing, and wriggling around as he does so. Nearly as if he were an unruly child in the midst of an extensive temper tantrum.
Jotaro glimpses at Polnareff. The two simply stare at each other, the pair shrugging simultaneously.
“We’re not listening,” Jotaro declares in a stern tone, striving to keep his resentment fully inside. His clenching fists twitch violently, as he vigorously forces his temper to the back of his mind. “You seem to be acting like every other enemy we encounter…you just beg for forgiveness…well, you don't deserve it…” The burly Japanese foreigner voices a justifiable point. A point which forces the man recoiling upon the dust to feel threatened. Although, rather than revolting or putting up a struggle, the man tosses on his signature unperturbed, chilling tone and begins to speak up. Mocking the army of men before him.
“I see you've extracted my Stand from your friend,” The man hums as he redirects his index finger toward Polnareff. The male of which is still clinging onto the unconscious body of Kakyoin. “I also see he didn't end up killing you guys like I expected....he seemed to have done a lot more harm to himself instead.” The man croaks out shrill chortle, giggling sadistically. He manoeuvres his finger downward to the numerous splatters of crimson blood that stain Kakyoin's clothing. Then to the wide-open abrasion that’s gouged into his lifeless lower leg. Before pausing at the red fluid flowing down the passed out boys ankle. The enemy lets out a sneer, as if he were viewing the teenagers wounds as greatly amusing.
Polnareff snarls at the sickening remarks. “You bastard!!”
The silver haired man takes a step toward the enemy. Much to his dismay, Polnareff instantly detects a hand upon his burly shoulder. He half-glances at whoever is holding him still. That’s when Polnareff realises that Avdol had halted him. Yanking him back before he can add any additional turmoil to the current state of affairs.
“Don't make things any more worse than they already are,” Avdol says “This man is in fact our enemy, but we should at least let Jotaro or Mr Joestar deal with him...We don't want you making things even more horrific.”
Polnareff mutters something unintelligible under his breath, and lets the simpering man continue ramble. Continue to go on and on.
“I can't believe he didn't kill any of you guys,” the man cackles like a fiendish comic “He put up quite a fight when I tried to infect him with my Stand...but after he fought me he just kind of let me do anything to him. It was almost like he wanted me to possess him.” The man grasps at the side of his own face, as he directs his eyes off to stare at the clear blue sky. “Oh, what am I saying? He enjoyed me forcing myself on him. He was so utterly cute and submissive.”
The man take in an extended inhale, followed by an amorous exhale. He utilises the tips of his fingers to lightly stroke his cheek.
“I wonder if little Kakyoin would've let me do anything else to him. He’s exquisitely adorable and helpless. I could've done so much more to his little body if I had wanted to…” the enemy stand user trailed off and fantasised about the situation. His impassioned desires on what could’ve been “Oh…So much more.”
That appalling and perverted announcement is enough to infuriate and highly
disgust Jotaro. He no longer cares if he has to beat the man into an unrecognisable pulp. He has not fear in brutally slaughtering another living mortal. Anything to assist his fellow comrades. Anything to retrieve Kakyoin’s long-lost pride and dignity.
With that, Jotaro let’s out a low growl. He slides a clinched fist out from his pocket, showing the image to the opposing stand user. He clenches his twitching fingers firmly, until the joints crack audibly, veins protruding. Yet, despite all the rage that dwells within him, the delinquent does not throw a single punch. Jotaro instead, raises his hand, tipping his schoolboy cap over his eyes. The males seething vision becomes hidden by a deep pit of darkness. His growling abruptly ceases.
“I’d think twice before speaking if I were you,” Jotaro collectedly says “You took advantage of our weakest ally for your own twisted gain. You used him like a common puppet, and forced him to become someone he’s clearly not just so you could assassinate me. Man, you must be stupid.” Jotaro rotates on his heals to look in the opposite direction of his enemy. The teenager stares fixedly into the distance, ignoring the villainous mans putrid presence. “Through this, I can tell you’re stupid enough to not realise what Jotaro Kujo does to foul punks like you. If you were even the slightest bit smarter, you would’ve already scampered off by now like the slimy cockroach you are.”
“W...what do you mean by that?” The man chokes out “Are you saying I’m no more than an unredeemable fool?” The older male claws at his bandaged torso in an act of irritation. He hurriedly scratches at the surface, ripping and tearing the bandages at the seams.
“Yeah, I am saying you’re nothing but an evil idiot,” Jotaro whirls back around to shoot his enemy with a look. His eyes stare intensely into the villains soul. This causes an unbalanced tremor to wrack the mans collapsed frame. The teenager lifts his right hand and creates one last fist. This also refuses to sit well with the slumped over stand user. “I’m saying that when you make dumb decisions, and that when you maliciously use people to complete said decisions...everything eventually comes back to you!!” Jotaro then unexpectedly raises his voice. The burly teen transforms his once composed and undisturbed inflection into one of extreme fury.
“Ora!!!”
Once the chain of thought has escaped Jotaro’s mouth, he conjures up his stand one final time. The shimmering blue fists of Star Platinum instantaneously hurtle out of its users infuriated frame. The pair of translucent, grappling hands go dashing in the direction of the man. Jotaro takes zero delay at all to pummel hundreds of strikes into the man. A flurry of enraged punches. To commit the act he had longed to do since the very beginning.
“Ora! Ora! Ora! Ora! Ora!!!”
One explosion of blows after another, the man is belted down by Star Platinum. The distinct shattering of his bones bawls out across the location. The rapid clamouring of the fists meeting flesh roars like booming claps of thunder. The man is effortlessly tossed into the air. Being rammed into the sky by a meteoric strike to the stomach. He cringes and recoiled in mid-air with every direct thump. His limp frame rebounding back and forth as the Stands uncontrollable punching continues. Jotaro flourishes his Stands fist out, ready to drive a final blow into the jaw of the malevolent stand user. He plunges the hit directly under the mans chin, uppercutting the villain in mid-air.
The man shrieks aloud, choking up a dosage of crimson. His flaccid figure soars beyond the footpath, gliding into the wall of a nearby building. The structures outer frame fractures as the male collides with its dense, brick body. A minuscule ensemble of beggars point at the wreckage in bewilderment, utterly perplexed. A minor amount of the witnesses dash off in the opposite direction. They bound and scamper away from the calamity, most likely not wishing to interfere with whatever imaginary entity had sent the man hurtling toward to destruction.
With that, Star Platinum recedes back into its users frame with a brisk gleam. Jotaro heaves, regaining his breath. The teenager spins around on the rears of his heals. He looks back in the vicinity of his travel band before asking a critical question.
“Is Kakyoin alright...?” Jotaro huffs “Put him down Polnareff. We need to check up on him.”
Polnareff nods, complying. The Frenchman casts the younger males inanimate frame over his shoulder. He cautiously cradles Kakyoin, holding his lifeless body in his burly arms. Polnareff gets on his knees, gently placing his ally on the dirt path.
The four men fix their gaze on their collapsed ally, each and every member of the ensemble examining him closely. His expression is left ghostly pale, closely resembling someone who had been suffering from an illness. Dark circles encompass his hollow, closed eyes. The boys mouth is open, panting out wheezing breaths as if he’d run a strenuous mile and then some. His chest and shoulders rise and fall at a strained pace. Barely audible mewls crawl out from his rasping throat. His eyebrows twitch, as if he were experiencing a vivid nightmare. Every one of his limps lay without life. Unmoving. Stiff.
The teenager lay upon the gravelly earth for quite some time before finally regaining consciousness. He painstakingly opens his eyelids. With laboured movements, he reveals his purple orbs. A sign he’s fully awake. The frail teenager raises a shaken hand, rubbing his temples with the tips of his fingers. He then proceeds to lift his fatigued form up from its reclined position. He groggily hoists his frame to sitting upon the sandy floor, readjusting to his newly rejuvenated state. Kakyoin turns his head and faces Jotaro.
“W..what happened..?” He mumbles “Why does my leg and head hurt...a..and why do I feel so sick...?” Kakyoin kneads his stomach region, jabbing his nails into the green fabric of his uniform. He whimpers aloud, slumping forward slightly like a hungover drunkard.
“Well, in short...” Jotaro trails off. He has zero idea of how to properly conclude his sentence. He doesn't desire to run over the series of events in his mind. Jotaro rotates his head around to take a gander at his comrades. He stares at the three fellow men for an extended period of time.
“Uh..we’ll...in short, some stuff happened, let’s just leave it at that, alright?” Jotaro eventually finishes up his remark, before turning back toward Kakyoin. He shoots his disoriented associate with an easing smile. One that hopefully, would bring the boy back down to earth.
“Let’s go back to the Inn,” Kakyoin grins back, glimpsing below at his gouged calve “I think I may need a bandage or two...and...” The boys speech dwindles, as he clutches at his abdominal area once more. He retches a little, face draining of all colour. Kakyoin lifts a shivering hand and grasps onto Jotaro’s modified school jacket. He clasps the piece of clothing by its golden chain, jerking the fellow teen in his general vicinity. With that, Kakyoin lurches forward, burying his face into the left border of Jotaro’s uniform, before falling ill. A putrid racket and acidic stench soon floods the area, as the teenager immediately empties his stomach content directly onto his comrade. The pressure from the stand attack must’ve upset the boys internal anatomy. More importantly, his stomach.
“Uh...thanks, Kakyoin...” Jotaro sighs, pretending that he isn’t currently being vomited on “The important thing is that you’re okay...mostly”
Polnareff let’s out a juvenile chuckle. The Frenchman entirely forgetting about the traumatising debacle from earlier and focuses on the comedic situation before him. “Ba dum tss!”