digiorno | ic inbox ( ruby city ) Ⅰ

All right. Then . . . I'll do it now, if you want me to.

[He's a little excited to, even as tired as he is, turning the button over between his fingers thoughtfully. There's still the matter of the washcloth, too. He's sort of wondering if Jotaro's going to bring it up or not. Not that it'll make a difference in the end, he's pretty sure.]

Oh — sure. ...If you're not too worn out to do one more, I mean.

[So he dispatches Star with a thought to go fetch the bag and the thermos, and gradually the very thought registers, and gets voiced at length.]

...You going to dry your hands when you're done?

No, I can do it. It's what I've practiced most, so it's easiest for me.

[A quick glance up, a soft smile. Good.]

Mm-mm. This is for the other thing I promised you.

[The other thing he...what other thing? The call had only been about the f—

...!!!

And wouldn't you know it, that recognition hits at the precise moment when Star returns, which also means it's all over because all of the surprise and eager astonishment that washes over Jotaro ends up magnified threefold in Star Platinum, whose face has just taken on the expression of a child who's been told his parents are taking him to Disneyworld AND LETTING HIM STAY THERE FOREVER.]

. . . Oh my god.

[SORRY THERE IS NO WAY HE CAN KEEP HIMSELF FROM LAUGHING AT THAT. STAR IS SO HAPPY, THIS IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING THAT'S EVER BEEN.]

Are you - going to be okay?

...What? I'm —

[And then it hits him, and he actually turns and looks, and just.]

Stop that.

[Which...seems to be directed at Star, of all things, and goes blissfully unnoticed despite its stubborn exasperation because Star Platinum, professional labrador, is already making a beeline for Giorno to huddle down and watch him work and wait in silent demand for otter otter otter.]

Oh my god.

[Ahhhh, hi Star. Giorno reaches up and ruffles his hair, because look at this perfect purple punchlab, and then sets to work. Fish first, otter in a bit.]

[Gold Experience shifts out onto the sand next to him, takes the button in hand. It's the work of just a few seconds to make a small and perfect betta fish, green and red, which he holds out to slip into the thermos.]

[And that's Jotaro's cue to lie back down and close his eyes, still vaguely aware of phantom perceptions of the world through Star Platinum, but slowly recuperating his strength while leaving his Stand freer rein to act on his own volition.

Which Star proceeds to do, watching through almost comically wide eyes as the button in the hands of the Stand he'd so recently been hurling punches at gradually shifts and shapes into a fish that goes plunk into the water and begins to swim around in tight exploratory circles.

But it's pure Star Platinum, whatever that bit of him that is unique to himself without quite being Jotaro exactly, that leads him to point uncertainly at the fish and cast Giorno an uncertain look, echoing a soft ora? that seems to express a sentiment of what is the purpose of this, as valued on a scale of do we eat it or punch it.]

[Oh. That's.]

[Star Platinum is really amazing, he thinks. He doesn't love him the way he loves Pistols, but he . . . admires him, maybe, all the different things he can be, what Jotaro is and isn't and then other things, too.]

[The question is obvious, and the answer is, too. He takes Star's pointing hand in both of his and folds his fingers into a loose fist, looking up at him seriously.]

It's a fish. A living thing, for Kakyoin. So you have to make sure it gets home safe. Understand?

[Fish. And here is where, even removed from the conversation, Jotaro still contributes at a distance; fish comes with connotations, when Star goes looking for them, and those connotations are of the same degree and caliber as Kakyoin, in their way. So fish and Kakyoin, these are good things, they go together, they are not things for punching, they are important things we keep safe.

Which leaves Star thoughtful a minute, and a moment after that Jotaro's voice breaks the silence —]

...Yes, Star. Like the damn pudding.

[THERE ARE THREE WHOLE THINGS ON THE LIST OF IMPORTANT THINGS WE KEEP SAFE. THREE WHOLE THINGS.

...Maybe four, considering Giorno.

So, with all the care and precision he can muster, Star carefully holds the thermos steady as he shifts to sit down and peer into it, watching the fish inside with laser-focused intent.]

[Oh my god.]

He's really cute. I hate to tell you that, but it's true.

[He should have brought snacks. Maybe next rumble.]

He's a good boy.

[And what a long way they've come together, from evil spirit in a jail cell to this, a quiet beach in the dead of night. Star is a good boy, and he loves him, and he generally opts not to think too hard about the implications of that because sometimes it just makes it that much easier to let Star be more in the column of something else than me in moments like these.]

He is.

[Such a good boy. Which is why Giorno reaches up to pet his hair again, softly enough that it doesn't distract him.]

Are you both ready?

[It's probably a bad time to point out that he can feel that. And that it's comforting, in the strangest way.

So instead he half-rolls, half-sits up, and gives Giorno his attention as much as Star has.]

...Yeah. We are, yeah.

. . . Okay.

[And he gives all of his attention to the towel in his hands, then, draping it over the tips of his fingers so that it conceals the way Gold Experience blooms in his fingertips. It's all about showmanship, even when he isn't really thinking about showmanship at all. That's just what comes naturally to him, little lies in everything he does, and this has to seem . . . natural. Like a birth of a sort.]

[All the same, it happens quickly once he starts, the terrycloth shifting and changing until all of a sudden it's squirming of its own volition, a furry little monster baby squeaking intensely because why the fuck does she suddenly exist, and why is the wind ruffling her fur, who approved this?]

[For once, he's actually speechless.]

[...That's his baby. Otter, granted, but still his baby. It's his. It's going to be his, it's a tiny life that suddenly exists now and didn't exist before and it's his, Giorno's holding it and it's making little toy-like squeaking noises into the still night air and he's so fucking exhausted but somehow unbearably alive all at once.

It's — ah, no, she's, oh god it's a little girl — she's —

He's staring, now, openly and unmindfully, in an eerily identical way to the manner in which Star was staring at the betta just a minute before; it's gawking, almost, except that there's less foolish astonishment and more just quiet wonder. He can't seem to unstick himself from that one vastly significant point of note, the same one they'd discussed over starfish on this very beach weeks ago — that it isn't just towel to otter that's happened here, it's unfathomable power put to use in the gentlest, kindest way. It's the power he'd been fighting tooth and nail when he'd stopped his own heart, and now that same power has...started another one. A new one. A tiny, fuzzy one.

She didn't exist a minute ago, her tiny fragile life, and suddenly she does.

(Her baby paws end in tiny velvety toebeans. She's a mountain of fluff — she doesn't know how to swim yet. She...she...)

Holy shit.]

...She's a girl.

[SOUND MORE LIKE EXPECTANT FATHERS IN A DELIVERY ROOM, WHY DON'T YOU.]

[When Jotaro speaks, when he finally tears his gaze away from the otter and looks at Jotaro again, sees that wonder on his face, the renewed faith in the life that can come out of the darkness . . . he just thinks: good. If this is all he can do in this place, reaffirm that, then it's what he wants to do, over and over again. Make that kind of happiness come out.]

[It isn't all he can do, not by far. But it might be the most meaningful.]

[She rolls onto her side a little bit, wiggling in his arms, still squeaking in confusion. It occurs to him that he doesn't know what to do with babies, not even otter ones. Once they get old enough that they've been hurt, he knows how to heal them, but when they're this small . . .]

[He scoots back and nudges Jotaro with his elbow.]

Go on. Take her.

[He almost makes Star do it, at first. He would, except that Star is still preoccupied with the betta and the last thing they need right now is to make this into an overcomplicated juggle. But the impulse is still there, Star needs to do it and not me, because Star is careful, and precise, and takes care of the things that Jotaro deems important.

But that's sort of what this is about, isn't it. Learning to take care of the things that are important, and believing that one of those things on that list is...himself. So no, Giorno is right. He should do this, with his own two hands.

He can do this with his own two hands — that's something Giorno's always been right about, too. This time is no exception.

So he reaches, carefully, and lifts his wriggly ball of fur (his, his!) over and into his arms, and he's nervous but somehow all of a sudden it's just easy. She flops and waggles her little limbs in the air, and when he brings his hand to rest against her belly she squirms and chatters with a noise that sounds eerily like giggling, batting at his wrist and trying to catch hold of it with unpracticed paws and toes.]

Hey. ...Hi. I'm...

[He just gazes at her a minute, watching the beginnings of her play, watching how quickly her interest shifts in an attempt to make sense of everything that's around her all at once.]

...You're okay. It's okay, you're all right. Curious, huh...that'll get you a long way, once you start growing up.

[He glances up at Giorno, eyes still a little wide and expression touched with awe.]

I'm glad. That. ...That you can do this. I'm glad it's you.

[There was a moment when he thinks he'll have to shove her into Jotaro's arms. He doesn't want to do that, not because she's fragile - she isn't; nothing can hurt her without getting hurt itself - but because she doesn't deserve the jostling, and it might frighten her.]

[But Jotaro pulls through, like he almost always does, and Giorno ducks his chin and smiles, proud and pleased and thrilled and content and exhausted. Everything bad is going away. Everything. Just like this. Jotaro is talking to this otter like she's a little person who can understand him, and she's grabbing at him like she hasn't quite figured out where she begins and ends.]

[He'll be good to her, Giorno thinks. He'll take care of her . . . won't he.]

[Absently, he runs his fingers along his lips, through his hair. Little fidgets, not nervous, but remembering himself, where he begins and ends. Sometimes it's hard to know. Harder when Jotaro looks at him like that, like he's done something amazing.]

[Me?]

[Blinking slowly, he half-shakes his head, then changes his mind and nods.]

Me too. It's . . . my favorite thing. Of all the things I can do.

She really likes you, Jotaro.

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