Expression

Chapter Three

Noriaki Kakyoin was trapped in an endless loop of his own life. All alone, with no way to communicate with the world, time and space were meaningless. There were only the images and voices, sometimes solid and sometimes disjointed, but always there.

One that kept recurring was a memory of DIO—of when they had met. In his weakness, he'd given in to DIO's suggestion that they "be friends", out of a relief that this meant that, at least for a moment, he would survive. That was what had allowed DIO to plant the flesh bud and turn Noriaki into his pawn. He hadn't even seen The World; just the power radiating off of DIO was enough to terrify him into this state of utter compliance. If I had been strong, I would have been able to resist. I wouldn't have become DIO's servant. I'm... pathetic. I don't deserve to live.

Damnit, Jotaro, why couldn't you have just let me die?

Jotaro had said that he'd loved him. He wasn't worthy of Jotaro's love. There was an important thing he'd learned from DIO, who'd been the first to understand him and his ability—the first other stand user he'd met—and Noriaki had been quick to understand in return that he was only valuable for what he could accomplish.

"You can do so much for me, Kakyoin," DIO had whispered. "Wouldn't you like that?" Yes... The flesh bud could sense all of Noriaki's emotions, and DIO could manipulate that as he wanted. He knew Noriaki's insecurities, his fear that he would never amount to anything, that he would always go unrecognized. Noriaki knew that he could only become important if it was serving DIO. He wondered if DIO knew why he was like this, if he could read not just his emotions, but his memories...

He was a child again. He was back at his elementary school, feeling uncomfortable under the stares of his classmates as he walked to his desk with his hair newly short. He had thought that this would be the way to get his classmates to accept him as a boy; he was, in fact, actually quite proud of his hair, and liked it long, but short hair was for boys and long hair was for girls, according to the social norms. Not daring to speak, he sat down in silence. His classmates whispered to each other. Though he could not hear their words, he could hear the mocking and derision in their tones. No matter what he did, he would be nothing more to them than a delusional girl, someone weird whom they'd prefer to avoid.

Still, he was insistent; he wouldn't put up with this, and though the school officials talked about him in a scandalized manner while he wasn't there, he was eventually given a male school uniform. It was the only way he would attend school at all.

Nobody ever really talked to him, so he would always play on his own, often using Hierophant Green in lieu of a friend. The other students saw him on his own, talking to something they couldn't see, throwing balls into the air as if someone were there. All this only helped to fuel their idea that he wasn't quite right.

Noriaki knew, of course, that Hierophant was real—could see it, hear it, feel it—but his classmates clearly could not. Whenever he struggled with something they laughed, asking if his imaginary friend could help him with it. None of them understood him. Hierophant was his only source of companionship, but at the same time, a source of his isolation.

It didn't take long for him to learn that he was best off acting as if Hierophant didn't exist.

This didn't stop people from thinking that he was odd, but he wasn't going to pretend that he was a girl. Hiding his stand was as much as he could take. He wouldn't mask himself any more than that. To deny what he knew to be true, to treat these truths like falsities: that was the ultimate insult. Since he would not do that, he spent his childhood alone.

Eventually, he noticed that people would be nice to him (not kind, really, but nice) when he did well in school. His teachers would take a break from gossiping to praise him instead, and his classmates would smile and compliment him when they asked him to help them with their homework. If this was what allowed him to feel a tiny sliver of belonging in this world, he would devote himself to it. This became his sense of worth, for it was the only way others saw worth in him.

Noriaki Kakyoin valued not himself, but what he could accomplish. DIO had seen this in him, had used this to manipulate him, to make him believe that "the one who loses is evil," as he in turn had said when he tried to kill Jotaro.

Even though DIO was dead, his voice persisted in the endless dream of this coma, telling Noriaki that he was nothing on his own. Kakyoin, you will never be good enough. Noriaki was in a ceaseless spiral, sinking deeper and deeper into this belief.

A month had passed. Iggy had woken up a few weeks ago, but the Speedwagon doctors were ready to give up on Noriaki. Jotaro Kujo sat head in hand in the hospital room as the nurse gave him this news. It wasn't unexpected, but it hurt all the same. He had visited Noriaki every day—the situation never changed. He was silent, still. If nothing changed within the next five days, he would be taken off of life support, and Jotaro would lose him for good.

Although he wasn't one for talking, he spoke.

"Noriaki," he pleaded, "Noriaki. You can't just help us and then leave. You didn't even say goodbye! Damnit, stop sleeping!"

Far away, like something at the end of a long tunnel, Noriaki heard his voice. The cruel taunts of DIO that his mind devised were drowned out by Jotaro's distant voice.

"Come back," it said. "I miss you." Not "I miss the power of your Emerald Splash", or "I miss your Hierophant Green", but "I miss you."

Something in him stirred at this. He remembered when Jotaro had removed the flesh bud from his head. He hadn't done it because he expected anything in return; Noriaki had joined the Crusaders of his own volition. Jotaro had simply done it out of kindness, risking his own life so that Noriaki's could be free. And here he was again, some light in the darkness leading him once again to something better.

Maybe it was alright for Noriaki to allow someone to help him simply because they wanted to.

He could hear DIO behind him, his mind's attempt to keep him in this miserable state, but did not listen. Whatever it said did not matter. What mattered was Jotaro, was being cared for with nothing asked for in return but still wanting to give back—not for reasons of ego, but for the simple reason of giving itself, for getting to see a smile or hear a laugh as a reward. What mattered was love.

He followed Jotaro's voice, growing more desperate but at the same time growing louder, growing closer, until it was right in front of him—until he was awake and not just hearing Jotaro but seeing him, and lifting his hands to his face and touching it, shivering at the contact.

"Noriaki," Jotaro said, "welcome back," and Noriaki followed this voice still closer, sitting up to lean his face right up to Jotaro's, only silencing it to trade it for a kiss.