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Finding out you’re supposed to be dead is one hell of a revelation to have. It’s made even worse by the fact that Noriaki can actually kind of remember what happened. Water towers might just give him nightmares for the rest of his life, and those nightmares will always be accompanied by a truly awful pain in his abdomen, like someone has punched a hole straight through it.
Time traveling is less existentially terrifying but still has its own host of problems. It’s incredibly strange to be visiting all these different places and time periods, feeling more out of place than he ever has anywhere else he’s visited. It doesn’t help that every place seems to have some connection to Jotaro’s family, including the parts that Jotaro himself has never met before.
By far the strangest thing to happen, though, is meeting the version of Jotaro alive in 1999.
It happens by accident. They’re in a small town in Japan called Morioh, and Noriaki is tired of being stuck inside a turtle. His newfound company - mostly some teenaged, Italian gangsters from 2001 - is pleasant enough, if slightly loud and impossible to understand due to the language barrier, but Noriaki thinks if he paces the room much more, he’ll wear a hole through Mr President’s room and harm the poor turtle stuck ferrying them around. Jotaro had told him, quite firmly, to stay where he was, but a little jaunt around a peaceful, Japanese town to stretch his legs and get some fresh air won’t hurt anyone. Hell, he even swears to himself to get help if he sees an anomaly, instead of trying to deal with himself like he might’ve tried to do in the past.
Jotaro’s uncle, Josuke, and the Jotaro from 1989 are outside the turtle right now, probably fighting a Stand User or something. Noriaki doesn’t know anymore - Jotaro won’t tell him, and Joseph is avoiding Josuke like the plague because he doesn’t want to tell him who he is. Noriaki can’t really be too sympathetic, as much as he likes Joseph; this is his punishment for cheating on his wife and impregnating a college-aged girl. It is frustrating, though, so he waits until Joseph falls asleep on the couch and the Italians are deep in conversation before slipping outside and looking around.
He finds himself in what looks like a town square of sorts. It’s very quaint, and right across the street is a train station bustling with people. Coco Jumbo, the turtle, is resting on the lip of a fountain. Nearby stands Josuke and his short, white-haired friend whose name Noriaki was never told. They’re talking quietly to each other and don’t seem to notice Noriaki is there at all. Jotaro is nowhere in sight. It’s the perfect chance to slip away and give himself some time to think.
He turns around, and immediately, he’s face-to-face with a broad chest covered by a black turtleneck and white lab coat. He stumbles back so fast he almost falls on his ass, but a hand shoots out and catches his wrist before he can get very far. Familiar, dark brown eyes stare at him from under the brim of a white cap adorned with nautical symbols and gold accents. There’s shadows under those eyes now, and a look to his face that makes him look more worn, but there’s no doubt this is Kujo Jotaro.
Noriaki swallows thickly. He doesn’t think he can convince someone as sharp as Jotaro that he’s not who Jotaro obviously thinks he is. Summoning Hierophant would just further incriminate him, and Noriaki knows better than to think he could escape Jotaro while trapped in Star Platinum’s range, especially with his newfound ability to stop time. Distantly, he hears Josuke and his friend shouting for Jotaro to calm down, but thankfully, they seem to know better than to approach an enraged Jotaro.
“Who are you,” this older Jotaro barks before Noriaki can decide what he should do.
“I... I am who you think I am,” Noriaki says as calmly as he can. “I am Kakyoin. I know it sounds impossible, but--”
Star Platinum appears behind Jotaro, and the look on his face makes Noriaki flinch, something he hasn’t done around Jotaro since the first few days of their short-lived friendship. “Prove it, or I’ll bash your skull in for daring to replicate Noriaki.”
Noriaki can’t help blushing when he hears his given name rolling off of Jotaro’s tongue, even in spite of the circumstances. His Jotaro - that is, the one from 1989; he is not Noriaki’s in any other sense of the possessive - has never called Noriaki anything other than “Kakyoin” despite how many times Noriaki has teasingly told him to stop being so formal.
Still, Hierophant Green seems to know what to do even if Noriaki is slightly distracted, and they finally appear behind him. Jotaro and Star’s eyes jump to the new figure, and both widen in recognition. Star’s lips actually part in surprise, and he drops his massive fists to gawk at the shy Stand half-hiding behind their User’s shoulders.
“Jotaro-san!” Josuke says from a few meters away. “Look, let Kakyoin-san go; we can explain everything. That’s why we called you here, actually. I swear he’s not evil. Er, not anymore, anyways.”
Jotaro doesn’t look away from Noriaki or let go of him. Star is still staring at Hierophant. Neither seems to care that both are fighting to not squirm self-consciously or struggle in his grasp.
“Tell me something only you would know,” Jotaro says quietly after a long moment of studying Noriaki’s face.
Noriaki blinks and tries to think of something. “Um... When we were in Singapore, we got separated and you got attacked by Yellow Temperance. When you told me how long it took for you to figure out I was a fake, I locked you out of the room and wouldn’t talk to you for two days.”
He pauses, then adds, “I’m still kind of mad about that, actually. Do you really think I’d be so cruel as to attack a pickpocket so viciously and then try to push you off a high platform?”
Jotaro answers by pulling Noriaki into a bone-crushing hug. Noriaki freezes, then turns bright red when he feels Jotaro’s nose nuzzling the crown of his head and take a deep breath of his slightly-greasy hair.
“It’s really you,” comes Jotaro’s deep baritone just centimeters from Noriaki’s ear. A shiver trails down Noriaki’s spine, shameful and white-hot. If Jotaro notices, he doesn’t say anything. Judging by the pure relief in his voice, he doesn’t care at all. “Noriaki... How are you here?”
“Time travel,” Noriaki croaks. “Your uncle or grandfather could probably explain it better.”
Jotaro keeps him there for another long second before suddenly drawing back. His hands, however, stay perched on Noriaki’s shoulders. There’s an actual smile on his lips, and while still fairly subtle when compared to someone else’s smile, it makes Noriaki go pinker. When was the last time Jotaro from 1989 had looked at him like that? Has he ever done that for longer than a second or without tugging his hat down to hide his face?
“Long time no see, Noriaki,” Jotaro-san says, an almost cheeky tone in his voice.
Noriaki nods awkwardly. “It hasn’t been that long for me, but... It’s nice to see you again too. You look... good.”
He really does. He doesn’t even seem all that much older, and now that he’s smiling, he doesn’t look as tired either. This is how Jotaro should be. It suits him much more than the sullen, haunted expression the 1989 version of him is always sporting.
“Oi!” a familiar voice shouts from nearby.
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear, Noriaki thinks to himself, looking over his shoulder at the dark-dressed boy approaching.
“Hello, Jotaro,” Noriaki says. “Have you met Jotaro?”
1989 Jotaro glares at 1999 Jotaro. He doesn’t even seem to be surprised. It’s a bit unfair, really. “What’re you doing to Kakyoin?” he asks.
“I thought he was an enemy,” 1999 Jotaro says, letting go of one of Noriaki’s shoulders only to pull him closer with the other. Noriaki is literally tucked into his side, and it’s... Well, he just knows that he’s very red, so it’s a good thing everyone else is too focused on this confrontation of Jotaros to notice him. “He says you can explain what’s happening.”
“I can, but first, let go of Kakyoin.”
1999 seems entirely unimpressed by his younger self’s attempt at intimidation. “I’m not hurting him.”
“Shut up. He shouldn’t be out here anyways.”
Noriaki pipes up then because the only thing he hates more than being called insane or crazy is being talked about like he’s not there. “I can do what I want, Jotaro,” he snaps at the younger version. “I won’t stay trapped in Coco Jumbo forever. In fact--”
He detaches himself from 1999’s side and grabs the stupid, gold chain hanging off of 1989 Jotaro’s jacket, using it to lead him away. “We need to have a talk.”
Noriaki isn’t sure why Jotaro lets him drag him away, but they find themselves standing out of earshot of the others, and Noriaki spins around to face Jotaro and sees that he’s got that same pained, angry look on his face that he’s had pretty much this whole adventure.
“You need to stop treating me like a child,” Noriaki snaps. “I am barely six months younger than you, and I’ve been through the same amount of shit you have. I can handle myself better than you think.”
“That’s not--” Jotaro tries to say, but Noriaki is sick of keeping his feelings to himself right now.
“That’s what it feels like! It feels like you think I’m incompetent. I am not, and you can’t handle all of this by yourself. So stop trying to keep me out of this!”
Jotaro bows his head, casting his face in shadow. For a long moment, he is silent. Then, in a whisper Noriaki can barely hear: “I can’t lose you again, Kakyoin.”
Noriaki lets out a quiet sigh. There’s the real heart of it. He steps forward, anger temporarily set aside, and puts his hand on Jotaro’s arm. The boy flinches but doesn’t look up. Noriaki tries not to feel bad about that.
“I don’t want to die either,” he says quietly. “And the same is true in reverse. I don’t want you to die either because you keep trying to shoulder all of this by yourself. You’re not a god, Jotaro. You’re human, like me. And humans are meant to work together. We can’t do everything on our own. It’s just not possible. You’ll kill yourself if you try that. And to me, the only thing worse than dying again is seeing you die instead.”
He sees Jotaro’s throat bob as he swallows. “...Okay,” he says after a long moment. “I’m sorry, Kakyoin. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. You’re... the smartest, most capable person I know.”
He looks up then, and Noriaki blushes at the intense look in his eyes, like he needs Noriaki to understand and accept his compliment. “Ah,” Noriaki stammers. “Thank you, JoJo. That means a lot, coming from you.”
A smile appears on Jotaro’s face, but he tugs down his cap before Noriaki can appreciate it fully. Still, Noriaki smiles too, and they rejoin the others.
“Alright. Tell me what’s happening,” 1999 Jotaro says, barely looking away from Noriaki the whole time 1989 Jotaro explains the crazy shit that’s been happening the past few days.
The explanation is quick and to-the-point - expected, considering Jotaro is the one doing most of the talking. Josuke and Koichi jump in to describe the more recent events, like Okuyasu and Yukako’s possession, but other than that, it’s as dry as a field report. Still, considering Noriaki didn’t know half of this shit, it’s helpful.
1999 Jotaro barely reacts to this new information. The only strange thing about his demeanor is how often he glances over at Noriaki. Noriaki idly wonders if he thinks Noriaki will disappear if he doesn’t keep an eye on him. Something close to pity wells up in his chest, but Noriaki is quick to shove it back down. Jotaro won’t want pity. He’ll want something more concrete.
So when their unofficial meeting is called to a close and 1999 Jotaro looks like he’s about to leave to find this “Kishibe Rohan” who can apparently get rid of any lingering language barriers, Noriaki immediately calls out for him and ignores the stare fixed on the back of his neck.
“I’ll come with you,” Noriaki says, stopping at 1999’s side and smiling up at the man. “I’ve heard a bit about Kishibe-san, and if he’s really an artist like Josuke-kun says he is, I’d like to meet him.”
1999 smiles and hesitantly places his hand on Noriaki’s shoulder. “I’d like that.”
“Oi, old man,” an almost-identical voice snaps from behind the two of them. Noriaki turns to find the younger Jotaro glaring at his older self with a look that Noriaki would define as “jealousy” if he didn’t know any better.
1999 meets 1989’s glare with a steady one of his own. There’s a long moment of silent communication, and as much as Noriaki prides himself on being able to read Jotaro’s subtle expressions, he can’t quite understand what they’re trying to say to each other. Whatever it is, they seem to come to a conclusion because the younger Jotaro sighs and turns on his heel to stalk away. “Don’t get lost,” he calls over his shoulder.
“We’ll be fine,” 1999 assures, but he’s mostly looking down at Noriaki now.
Noriaki swallows quietly and starts to walk. 1999 Jotaro matches his pace, and it’s almost peacefully quiet between the two of them.
After a moment, Noriaki murmurs, “I’m sorry.”
“About what?” Jotaro asks, and Noriaki doesn’t need to look up to tell he’s genuinely confused.
“For... For not being there for you,” Noriaki says slowly. He still can’t look over at the older man. “For breaking my promise.”
“You remember that?”
Noriaki laughs lightly. “Of course I do. I only made it a few days ago, from my perspective.”
“...Right. I forgot.”
“I don’t know how. I look exactly the same, don’t I?”
Jotaro catches his eye and smiles, and when he speaks again, his voice is so fond that Noriaki’s soul feels like it’s full of fireworks. “You really do.”
Noriaki clears his throat quietly and idly finger-combs his bang, pointedly not looking at Jotaro until his heart feels a bit calmer.
“You don’t have to apologize, though,” Jotaro continues, his voice a bit more serious now. “For anything that happened. I don’t blame you for it. I know... I know you would’ve kept your promise if you could’ve.”
Noriaki’s mood dims slightly. “Ah. But if I had been stronger, maybe I--”
“You were plenty strong,” Jotaro says, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You-- You are plenty strong. Noriaki, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”
Noriaki tries to keep walking and ignore Jotaro’s compliment, but he grabs Noriaki’s wrist and holds him in place until he looks up. “I mean that,” he says softly, looking right in Noriaki’s eyes. “I don’t say things I don’t mean, Noriaki. You know that.”
Noriaki has to look away. “I know,” he murmurs. “I just... I wish I hadn’t hurt you like that, even if it wasn’t my choice. Even now, I’m worried that all this is just hurting you more.”
Jotaro shakes his head. “No. Noriaki, this is a gift for me. I... I missed you a lot. Talking to you for even just a few more minutes is... It’s a gift.”
Noriaki nods. They’ve stopped walking, standing still in a small alleyway with no one else nearby. Feelings are still swirling low in Noriaki’s gut, and before Jotaro can start off again, he hesitantly pulls the older man into a hug.
Jotaro immediately melts into it, holding Noriaki like he’ll never get the chance to again. It makes Noriaki’s eyes sting, and if a few drops of salt water fall onto Jotaro’s sweater, no one needs to say anything.
It really is a gift because a few days later, Kujo Jotaro, aged 28, falls asleep at his desk (not an uncommon occurrence on sleepless nights, of which he has many) and wakes up to someone’s hand on his shoulder and a gentle voice in his ear.
“JoJo, wake up,” the voice says, good humor lacing their voice. It’s so familiar that Jotaro’s heart aches. “Come on. My neck is aching just looking at you.”
“...Noriaki?” Jotaro mumbles sleepily, peeling his eyes open and slowly, painfully, sitting up and looking around.
A wide, pink-lipped mouth smiles at him, part of a pale face covered in freckles and framed by long, wavy, bright red hair. Two pinkish scars run perpendicular to two lovely, amethyst eyes, crinkled at the corner with the force of his affectionate smile. There’s a few things here and there that are different - his hair is longer, he looks skinnier, and he’s wearing mint green slacks and a matching jacket instead of his signature, emerald green uniform - but that’s definitely Jotaro’s long-lost friend, Kakyoin Noriaki.
“Noriaki,” Jotaro breathes, and before he can really register what he’s doing, he’s leaping to his feet and pulling the man into a tight hug.
“Whoa!” Noriaki exclaims, stumbling a little bit but immediately hugging back. “...Did you have a nightmare again?”
“You were gone. I... You died during that fight with Dio, and I had to keep going. I-I was all... all alone. I didn’t have you.”
Gentle hands rub his back and play with the short hair on the back of his neck. “It’s okay,” Noriaki whispers. “It was just a dream, JoJo. I’m right here. I’m right here, and I’m alive.”
Jotaro shudders and breathes in Noriaki’s scent - vanilla, coconut, and lavender. He’d once teased Noriaki for not having cherry-scented shampoo despite his weird obsession with the fruit and found his favorite sneakers floating in the koi pond barely twenty minutes later. Since then, he’s made sure to always compliment whatever shampoo or body wash or lotion or face cleaner Noriaki uses to keep himself so pretty and put-together.
“Are you feeling better?” Noriaki asks after a few minutes.
Jotaro takes another deep breath. The last of his anguish trickles to a stop, and everything just feels like a bad dream he’s woken up from.
“Yeah,” he croaks, pulling back and resting his forehead against Noriaki’s. “Just a bad dream.”