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Joseph had just gotten the strange baby to sleep when there came a sharp knock at the hotel room door. As he had feared, she awakened again, mewling and squirming sleepily in his arms.
"Damn it," he muttered as he made his slow way to the door. But despite his statement to Josuke about Suzie having handled the intricacies of raising baby Holly, Joseph did know a thing or two. He adeptly shushed the tiny girl, cuddling her soothingly as he managed to get the door open to reveal Jotaro, inscrutable as ever under his hat. "Ssshhh, quiet now. I've been trying to get her to sleep for the last half an hour," Joseph scolded in a stage whisper as he stood aside to let his grandson into the room.
"Sorry," Jotaro murmured, easing inside and closing the door softly. He padded over to a chair while Joseph rocked the infant in his arms, and soon she settled down and fell asleep again. The old man sat down carefully in the chair opposite Jotaro, eyeing him with an expectant look.
"No luck?"
"None." The younger man kept his deep voice as quiet as possible, shaking his head. "I checked with the police, the children's home, and the hospital. No one's reported a missing child her age, and no one has given birth within the last few months and then abandoned the baby. The Speedwagon Foundation couldn't find out anything about her, either, though they're interested in her since she's got a Stand. But she might as well have come out of thin air."
"Heh heh, funny you should say that." Joseph's blue eyes crinkled as he grinned. "She sure seemed to, when Josuke and I found her."
"Yeah, well," Jotaro took off his hat, running a tired hand through his hair before replacing the tattered headgear. "She was likely born with her Stand. I seriously doubt even Okuyasu's brother would have shot a baby with that arrow."
"You said the older boy was trying to find someone to, uh, take care of their father," Joseph reminded him. "A baby could hardly help with that."
"Right." They sat in a comfortable silence for a minute or two. "Have you given her a name?"
"A name? Oh, no. Hadn't thought of it, but I guess we have to call her something." Joseph peered down at the sleeping infant's face. She had more or less returned to visibility some time ago, having grown accustomed to Joseph and thus feeling safe with him. They had cleaned off the makeup with a wet wipe to get a good look at her. She had downy, light brown hair and big brown eyes, and was as cute as Josuke had speculated. And she seemed to be Japanese. He wondered idly if his son (his son!) had looked similar when he was a baby...well, except for the eyes, of course...
"So, any ideas?"
Joseph was dragged out of his ruminations. "Eh, what?"
"For a name for the baby," Jotaro said patiently, used to Joseph's mental wanderings.
"Not really," the old man admitted. "I wish I knew what her parents called her, but I guess we might never find out."
Jotaro's dark brows drew together as he thought. "How about 'Shizuka'? You could call her that until we find out more about her. It's not as if she'll know the difference anyway, at least not right now."
"Shizuka." Joseph narrowed his eyes, stroking the baby's cheek with one finger of his gloved hand. He mulled things over for a bit. Finally, he nodded. "Shizuka it is, then. I like it. What does it mean?"
"It means 'quiet,'" said Jotaro, with a small smile.
"Heh. You should've named Jolyne 'Stays Up All Night', then." Joseph returned his gaze to the sleeping baby in his arms. "I guess we'll need to keep looking for your mother and father, Shizuka."
"About that, Grandpa..." Jotaro hesitated. The marine biologist shifted in his chair again, looking out the window of the Morioh Grand Hotel, where the sun was setting in spectacular fashion over the harbor. "There's one other person I meant to talk to, but he can be a pain in the ass to deal with. I guess we'll need to contact him anyway and ask if he can help find out where she came from."
"Oh? Who is this 'pain in the ass'? Sounds interesting," Joseph said, perking up.
Jotaro sighed.
* * * * *
The sound of the doorbell was, as always, unexpected and unwelcome. Rohan lifted his head, waited for a few seconds, and was just about to start drawing again when the bell rang again. He cursed and set his pen down with a sharp clack, twisted out of his seat and stomped to the front door downstairs. Upon reaching it, however, he didn't open the door right away, but peered through the window blinds at the ingrate who dared disturb his genius.
It was an elderly man he'd never seen before, and a foreigner at that. A fan? Most of Rohan's fans who found their way to his home were children, teenage boys, or the occasional shy young woman, all of whom he was happy to send off with a signed volume of Pink Dark Boy after they had basked in his greatness for a few precious minutes. Perhaps the old man was here on behalf of a grandchild, Rohan thought, considerably less annoyed than before. Because of his parents' dedication to their work and the long hours they'd spent away from home, Rohan had been raised largely by various babysitters and a stern but loving grandmother who had schooled him to show respect towards his elders. That early training hadn't quite left him despite his massive opinion of himself, so finally, Rohan decided that the old man would probably not be too bothersome, and went to open the door.
"What can I, Kishibe Rohan, do for you -- " His grandiose greeting was cut short by a baby's piercing shriek, followed by giggles. Rohan recoiled, staring at the infant whom he hadn't seen through the window. She was clad in a pink onesie, a tiny hat, and for some reason, large dark sunglasses. The old man who held her raised a white eyebrow at his expression.
"She doesn't bite, you know," he said in English, his tone dry. Then he seemed to recall himself and fumbled a Japanese greeting, but Rohan cut him off with an upraised hand, wincing internally at the man's pronunciation.
"It's all right," he replied in the old man's language. "I can understand you, although it's been a few years since I studied."
"Oh, good." The old man seemed relieved. He had startlingly green eyes in a lined, bearded face. He smiled in a way which seemed familiar, yet which made Rohan vaguely irritated, as if reminded of something unpleasant. "Anyway, my name is Joseph Joestar. I'm Jotaro Kujo's grandfather, and I came to ask a favor of you. Jotaro told me about your Stand."
Rohan, wholly unprepared for this information, only blinked at Joseph. The baby cooed and waved a hand at him, her gaze seemingly focused on Rohan's shiny gold, pen-shaped earrings. He collected himself with a little shake and said, "Then please come in, Mr. Joestar. Did Jotaro accompany you?" He peered past Joseph but saw no one else on the front porch.
"Oh, no. He had to work on some research this afternoon. He gave me your address and I took a cab here," Joseph replied.
Rohan nodded and stepped back to let the old man enter. Up close, he could tell that Joseph Joestar must have once been at least as tall and broad as his grandson, but time had had its way with him. He was aged, but seemed hale enough for his years. Something about his left arm seemed strange as well, a stiffness of movement that Rohan doubted anybody but an artist used to memorizing details would notice. Still, Joseph's large hands were gentle and sure as he held the baby. He seemed to know Rohan was scrutinizing him, but clearly didn't take offense.
"Nice house," he commented, in a way which was both genuine and completely devoid of awe, as he looked around.
"It is, thank you." Rohan ushered him into the main room and asked him to take a seat, which he did slowly and with some stiffness. The baby wriggled on his lap. Rohan eyed her curiously. "Tea? Something for your -- granddaughter, is it?" Was she Jotaro's daughter, whom the marine biologist had mentioned in passing once or twice? He searched his memory for anything he had in his kitchen that was suitable for a baby, but Joseph shook his head.
"No thanks, and Shizuka here had a bottle not too long ago." The old man smiled again with genuine warmth, and to his mild surprise, Rohan found his usual cocky self-possession start to crumble in the face of such aged charm. "But I do need to ask something of you, like I mentioned."
Joseph's English was fluent and spoken with an American speaker's flat accent, and while Rohan had been an excellent English student while in school, disuse had made him rusty. He also had a feeling that the old man probably didn't know much more Japanese than what he'd just heard. So he sat up straight and asked directly, "Mr. Joestar, would you let me use my Stand on you before we begin?"
"Eh, what?" Joseph's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"I think it would be better if we clearly understood what the other was saying," Rohan said smoothly, wondering why he was even bothering to ask in the first place. He could have just done it. But this was Jotaro's grandfather, after all, a venerable old man. He could almost hear his own grandmother's voice admonishing him to be polite. "It won't hurt you, and I will reverse it as soon as our business is done."
Joseph stared at him for a minute or two longer, then he sighed. "All right. I guess I shouldn't hesitate, given why I came here. But I'm warning you, young man -- " and here his vague, benevolent gaze sharpened to a rather alarming intensity, " -- don't try anything sneaky. I'm not as old and helpless as I look."
"Understood." Rohan said, all outward deference and inward, quivering excitement, which he suppressed for now. "Just relax. This will be brief." He pulled out a pen from his shirt pocket and raised it in the air. "Heaven's Door!" Joseph's face split open and Rohan wrote, on the first page he saw, "I speak and understand Japanese." Then he closed the pages gently and sat back. Joseph blinked, his gaze on the humanlike shape of Rohan's Stand, which had manifested over his shoulder as usual before fading out of sight.
"How do you feel, Mr. Joestar?" he asked in Japanese.
"Well, that was, er, different. What am I -- wait a minute, I don't..." Joseph had automatically answered him in the same language, as Rohan had expected. The old man stared back at him with suspicion until Rohan explained what he'd done. "Really? That's amazing." He looked impressed now, and Rohan smirked a bit.
"It's quite a useful ability to have," he said smugly, although he'd actually never tried it before. "Now, what did you want from me?"
Joseph's expression became serious. "I need to know where this little girl comes from and who her parents are. She's actually not my granddaughter. My...son and I found her beside a road here in Morioh, and it seems she already has a Stand. She can't talk, obviously, so Jotaro suggested I ask you to use your Stand -- what was it, Heaven's Door? -- to see if we can find out where she belongs."
Again, Rohan was rendered momentarily speechless. "I see," he said at last, clearing his throat. "What sort of Stand does she have?"
"Invisibility. She vanishes when she's scared, and what's more, she sometimes makes things around her vanish, too. That's why she's got the glasses and the rest -- it keeps me from losing her somewhere, at least most of the time." the old man said. Rohan leaned over and saw that the child's face was covered in what appeared to be a thin layer of foundation. He reached out and lifted her sunglasses a little, peering beneath to see her curious eyes looking back at him. Shizuka giggled and grasped at his fingers, and Rohan gently put the glasses back in place and withdrew his hand.
"She likes you," Joseph said with approval.
"Wonderful." Rohan sounded less than enthusiastic. He cleared his throat. "All right, Mr. Joestar, I don't mind helping you. But I would like to ask something of you in return."
"Oh?"
"Let me use my Stand on you again, but this time, I'd like to read you. You've clearly had a long and, I imagine, full and vigorous life. I'm always in search of new material for my manga. Jotaro has told me a little about your adventure in Egypt -- "
"Are you going to tear pages out of my face, the way you did to Josuke's friend?" the old man interrupted wryly, looking as if he knew a hell of a lot more about Rohan than the mangaka was entirely comfortable with him knowing. And he had to bring up Josuke -- but then, he was also related to that brat if he was Jotaro's relative, wasn't he? Rohan sighed though his nose, feeling somewhat less excited about the prospect, but he was determined to have his way with the old Joestar's memories.
"No. I wouldn't do that to you, Mr. Joestar. I even promised Koichi I wouldn't do that to anyone again. I only want to observe." He tried to make himself look as sincere as possible.
Joseph Joestar -- crasher of airplanes, vampire fighter, Hamon adept and Stand user -- was not an easy man to deceive, even if these days he'd taken to falling asleep at random whenever he sat down to watch TV. And this Kishibe, famous comic book artist or no, probably thought he could fool anyone. Joseph had met his type before. But although the younger man was clearly too big for his already too-big britches, something about him tickled Joseph's sense of absurdity. Jotaro had been blunt about Rohan's inflated ego and prickly temperament, and when Josuke had heard what the old man was going to do, he'd called Rohan some names his mother would have yelled at him for saying, if she'd heard. All this had only made Joseph determined to visit the notorious Rohan, and perversely, he found himself liking the self-important young artist.
So, after a pause, the old man startled Rohan and Shizuka both with a loud and hearty laugh, the kind that had once echoed around the halls of Lisa Lisa's villa when he was young and brash and preparing for a fierce battle with ancient gods. "Is that so? I guess I won't say no to that." He pointed a finger at Rohan. "But first, we'll see about Shizuka."
* * * * *
They decided that Joseph should hold Shizuka to keep her happy so that she wouldn't get scared and disappear midway through. Rohan wasn't at all certain Heaven's Door would even work if Shizuka went invisible, although he didn't say so out loud. Instead, once the old man was comfortable on the sofa with the baby propped up on his lap, the artist slid to his knees on the floor and inched close enough so that he could gently remove the sunglasses from the baby's face, setting them aside. Then he reached out and drew a familiar shape in the air just in front of her. "Heaven's Door," he said, keeping his voice low so as not to frighten the child. Pink Dark Boy's form appeared again, hovering off to the side -- he didn't have to look to know it was there -- and the baby gurgled and stared, clearly able to see Rohan's Stand, before her face split open into pages.
"Amazing," Joseph said. Rohan didn't spend any time preening, although he did feel the usual self-satisfaction that came when someone admired his Stand, which was of course perfect. "So...what does it say in there?"
"Let me look." Rohan had to bring his face close to the baby's in order to read the small letters inside. There were only a few pages, and he narrowed his eyes as he scanned the lines of writing. "She's only five months old," he said. "She was born in the early spring. Her mother...there's nothing like a name or anything here about who her mother was, only..." He swallowed hard, his green eyes widening, and Joseph's smile vanished.
"What? What's wrong?" he asked, worried, but Rohan shook his head.
"I'll explain in a minute. I need to finish reading...she was a single birth, so she doesn't have a twin...and she's definitely had her Stand since birth. Before that, even." He turned the pages in Shizuka's little face delicately while the baby remained unnaturally still. "Hmmm. Well, that's all there is of importance." Rohan closed the pages and stood up, recalling his Stand. The baby blinked at him as he got to his feet before giving a wide yawn. Joseph visibly relaxed, and Rohan felt mildly irritated that the old man apparently still thought he would have hurt the small girl despite his reassurances, but he let it go for once.
"She's a normal child for her age in every way, except for having the Stand." Rohan sat down again, crossing his legs and folding his hands on top of his thigh. "There's nothing about who her family might have been -- I expected as much, since she wasn't aware of these things herself. However, I did find something interesting." He regarded Joseph seriously. "Apparently, Nijimura's brother shot her mother with his Stand arrow while she was pregnant, but Shizuka was the one who developed the Stand while still in utero. The mother lasted long enough to bring Shizuka into the world, but vanishes from her book as soon as she's born, so..." He paused significantly.
"...her mother must have died because of the arrow," Joseph finished softly, looking down at the baby with a sad smile.
"Likely so." Rohan agreed. "The older Nijimura brother apparently had no qualms about shooting a pregnant woman. No wonder he didn't balk at shooting the rest of us -- myself, Koichi, who knows how many others in Morioh." Not that Rohan at all regretted having Heaven's Door, and if Keicho hadn't done that, he himself and Koichi might never had become friends. Why, it was as if Keicho had unwittingly done him two favors before dying his stupid, pointless death.
The old man was frowning, however. "You know, I don't think it was the boy who shot them. You said she's about five months old?" Rohan nodded, and Joseph went on, "Josuke told me that Okuyasu and his brother only moved here three months ago. They weren't even in town this past spring, and I doubt Shizuka crawled all the way from wherever they lived before that, all by herself."
Rohan's eyebrows went up. "Does that mean there's more than one arrow? Jotaro said nothing to me about that -- "
"It's not something he wants to get around to everyone in town, but yes, there are several of those things in the world, thanks to -- well, never mind." Joseph shifted Shizuka so that she was lying in the crook of his left arm and looked out the window at the sunlit afternoon, his thoughts clearly far away. Rohan was about to ask who Joseph was talking about but the older man returned his gaze to the mangaka and said, "I'd better tell Jotaro what you've told me. Thank you, Rohan. You've been very helpful, even if we couldn't find her parents this way."
"It's no trouble," Rohan replied with a magnanimous wave of his hand. Then his face settled into an expectant smirk. "And now, Mr. Joestar, I'd like to collect my return favor from you."
"Thought so." Joseph said crisply. "You might see things there you don't like, though."
"I'm aware of that." Rohan shrugged. "I'll exercise the utmost discretion should I choose to use any of your material in my work. No real names, relevant details altered, so on and so forth. You have my word." His voice oozed courtesy and ingratiation, but Joseph was having none of it.
"You have my word that I'll drag myself back here to Morioh and choke the shit out of you with my Stand if you use anything too personal without my permission," the old man shot back, flashing a toothy grin back at Rohan, like a grizzled old wolf.
Just then, a passing car threw a beam of reflected sunlight through the window onto the old man's face, briefly making him look younger than he was. It was hard, in that split second, for the mangaka not to see the powerful and boisterous man Joseph had once been, and to wonder how much of him was still there. He cleared his throat. "Understood. Are you ready?"
"I see Shizuka's fallen asleep, so I might as well have a nap, myself." Joseph settled back against the sofa. "Go on, then." He didn't even flinch as Rohan called out his Stand for the third time that afternoon.
* * * * *
Joseph awakened an hour or so later, blinking in the red light of late afternoon. Shizuka was nowhere to be seen and for a moment, the old Stand user panicked until he heard her tiny giggle coming from behind the chair Rohan had been sitting in. He stood up, inwardly cursing his bad knee, and shuffled around to where the mangaka sat cross-legged on the floor with Shizuka in front of him. She was grabbing with her little hands as Rohan entertained her with a couple of Pink Dark Boy plush character dolls.
"There you are. All done? Did you find what you wanted?" Joseph asked. Rohan didn't answer right away. He scooped the baby up from the floor and got to his feet, passing her over to Joseph, who stroked her forehead absently as he awaited the artist's response.
"I got more than I imagined." Rohan's voice was uncharacteristically soft, and his prideful bearing was completely gone. He looked at Joseph with more honest respect, the old man suspected, than he probably ever showed anyone. "Thank you, Mr. Joestar, for letting me read your life. It was...amazing. I don't think I could have written anything better or more entertaining, and I'm the best mangaka there is." He bowed, and meant it.
Joseph snorted, amused by what Rohan obviously intended as a compliment. "I'm glad you found my life interesting. I've had some good times and some not so good times. But I've been lucky -- I've had my friends, my family, and a lot of happy memories to keep me going when things got dark." He poked Rohan in the shoulder with what the artist now knew was the finger of his artificial hand. "Remember that when you get too caught up in that manga of yours."
"Of course," Rohan said, having absolutely no intention of ever having friends (other than Koichi), or a family, or any person other than himself at the center of his life.
"Oh, that reminds me. Better take the Japanese-speaking thing off me before Josuke finds out and tries to do something about it. He wouldn't be happy," Joseph added, fully aware of the tumultuous relationship between his son and the mangaka. Indeed, Rohan's earnest expression changed into one of irritation at the mention of the pompadour-wearing student's name.
"I removed it, actually, before I recalled Heaven's Door. We've been speaking in English this entire time," he said with forced patience, gritting his teeth, although he wasn't angry at Joseph. "Are you going to tell him?"
"Oh. Well, that makes things easy. And no." Joseph shook his head, half-smiling. "What Josuke doesn't know won't hurt anyone. But please do one more small favor for me, Rohan -- if you have any regard for me, go a bit easier on him. He's got a lot going on under that, ahem, hair of his."
Rohan glowered and was just about to say something sarcastic (despite his grandmother's reproachful voice in the back of his head), but a sudden recollection made him stop and pull himself together. "All right," he said stiffly. "For your sake, Mr. Joestar. Because I respect you, especially after everything I saw and read today."
"Good." The old man seemed satisfied. Rohan telephoned for a taxi, and they went out to wait on the front porch until it arrived a few minutes later. When it did, Joseph turned to him, his crinkling eyes uncomfortably reminding Rohan of that fucking brat, but it couldn't be helped. The old man shifted the baby in his arms, smiling. "I'm glad to have met you at last, Rohan Kishibe. I hope this terrible business gets settled soon."
"So do I." Rohan watched as Joseph made his way down the sidewalk and got into the waiting taxi. Shizuka waved a small mittened hand over Joseph's shoulder, and the artist found himself waving back.
Later that evening, after a hasty dinner of udon and broth, and some time spent sorting through his dry cleaning to be dropped off, Rohan went into his studio and sat down at his desk. He'd just completed a chapter of Pink Dark Boy and was comfortably ahead of his deadline, as he preferred. Joseph Joestar's sudden visit hadn't affected his schedule, and he had gotten much more out of their interaction than he'd expected.
He absently twirled a pencil in his fingers as he mulled over the things he'd read in Joseph Joestar's life book that afternoon. There was such a riveting, bizarre mix of pathos and humor and adventure that Rohan really was awed at the extent of the old man's experiences. He wondered, with a sneer, how Josuke managed to be such an annoying, stupid jerk despite having the magnificent Joseph as an (admittedly absent) father, but sometimes certain qualities skipped a generation or two. He also found himself wishing he could meet some of the people described in Joseph's pages, although many of them were dead now. When you lived to be as old as that, Rohan supposed, you had more and more absent friends, living only in your memories.
Rohan had a sudden idea. He pulled out one of his sketchbooks and set it on the desk before him. What had Joseph's pages said? Italian, blond, handsome, strange marks under the eyes...
* * * * *
Joseph had been sitting on a park bench overlooking Morioh Bay for a little while now, and it was only the wriggling of the child in his arms that startled him out of immanent slumber. "Oh my god! I almost dropped you, Shizuka!" he said with alarm, clutching her closer. Shizuka appeared unfazed by her narrowly-missed peril, turning her head to stare at a man approaching along the path leading back to the Morioh Grand Hotel.
"Jotaro said I'd find you here," the man said, and upon closer inspection, Joseph saw that it was Rohan Kishibe, the Stand user he'd visited a few days ago. "I have something for you." Rohan took a seat next to Joseph on the bench, reaching into the portfolio he carried everywhere and withdrawing a large manila envelope, which he held out to Joseph.
"Did you remember something about Shizuka's mother?" Joseph had dutifully relayed the information Rohan had obtained to Jotaro, who called the Speedwagon Foundation and was told thanks, we'll be in touch, leaving the two Joestars back at square one. Joseph suspected he was going to end up taking the Stand-using baby home to New York with him. He only hoped Suzie would understand.
"No, unfortunately. This is something else," Rohan said, a touch of impatience in his voice.
Joseph passed Shizuka to Rohan, who held her on his lap without complaint, and opened the envelope carefully. A single piece of paper slid out. "Why, what's this -- " he began before he stopped, staring at what he held.
It wasn't a very exact likeness -- how could it be? -- but the lines somehow managed to capture his friend's character and courage despite that. He posed with his gaze forward, hands raised to produce a stream of bubbles that floated toward the viewer. His blond hair and feathered headband blew in an invisible wind, and behind him was a fairly accurate rendering of an Italian island. Joseph squinted and looked closer, and his mouth fell open in amazement. In one of the bubbles' reflections was a tiny portrait of himself, many years younger, a familiar grin plastered across his face.
The old Joestar swallowed hard, coughed, and finally said, in a voice rough with emotion, "Thank you, Rohan. You don't know what this means to me. I never had any photos of Caesar, and this is the next best thing."
Rohan had been ready to show off, but suppressed his urge to fish for admiration once he'd seen the look on Joseph's face. Sometimes, even he knew when to shut up. He contented himself with the knowledge that his rendering of a stranger, who'd been dead for decades and whom he'd never actually seen, had been enough to touch Joseph to the heart, the way a good artist should be able to. And of course, Rohan was the best artist. Pulling one of the small Pink Dark Boy plushes from the other day out of his pocket, he put it in Shizuka's tiny hand and set her back in Joseph's arms when the old man finally reached for her.
"I'm pleased you like the drawing, Mr. Joestar," was all Rohan said before bowing and walking away. Joseph was hardly aware of his departure, holding Shizuka in one arm and the drawing in his other, metallic hand. He was thinking of Italy, and his mother whom he hadn't known was his mother, and the best friend he'd ever had and whom he had known for far too brief a time.
Later, when Josuke asked Joseph what "that fucking asshole" wanted, Joseph told him sternly to mind his language.