[reuploaded 10 chapters]
"JOJO! Good morning!" "Kyaa — Jotaro-kun actually came back to school!"
They hadn't even reached the school gate before a group of girls in sailor uniforms swarmed Jotaro like moths deciding collectively that this particular flame was worth it.
"Get lost," Jotaro said without breaking stride. "You're too loud."
"Ah — so cool!"
The reaction only made things worse. The girls jostled each other, fighting for position at his right side. Someone nearly tripped trying to maneuver in front of someone else.
Shintaro was pushed to the outer edge of the crowd and stayed there without complaint. While everyone else was either drawn in or conspicuously avoiding the gravitational field, his gaze was moving — stone steps, the shade beneath the cherry trees, the shadow behind the vending machines at the slope's base.
Nothing.
Nowhere.
A thin thread of Hamon pulsed steadily along his veins, searching. Hidden beneath his collar, his fingertips pressed very slightly against each other.
He should be here by now.
"Boss, what are you sniffing around for?" the Black Sperm muttered in his mind. "There's nothing here except the smell of females in varying states of enthusiasm."
Shintaro's frown deepened.
In the original timeline, Noriaki Kakyoin should have been waiting beneath the trees on the slope right now — Hierophant Green already positioned, already beginning the attack that would kick everything into motion. But there was no green uniform. No ambush. No tightening of the air that preceded one.
Butterfly effect, Shintaro thought, with the specific grimness of a man watching a plan he didn't make unravel in a direction he can't predict. My presence shifted it.
Class 3-B fell silent the moment Jotaro appeared in the doorway.
The math teacher, mid-motion at the blackboard, froze. His chalk slipped and snapped cleanly against the floor. Students who had been leaning back in their chairs abruptly found reason to sit up straight.
"K-Kujo-kun," the teacher managed, dabbing at his forehead, "it's... very good to have you back."
Jotaro acknowledged this with nothing and walked to the window seat in the last row.
Shintaro followed and dropped into the seat beside him, brushing dust from the desk surface under a hundred pairs of uncertain eyes.
"Who's that?" "New transfer?" "He looks normal — why is he sitting next to Kujo?"
The whispers moved around the room like a tide finding its level.
"Yare yare," Jotaro said, without looking over. "Even with amnesia, you end up tangled in gossip. Don't start crying and say you want to go home."
"Never happening," Shintaro replied.
The class ground forward. Equations accumulated on the blackboard. Shintaro stared at them with the resigned acceptance of a man who has made peace with something he cannot change.
Some things are universal. Math is still unbearable.
When the bell rang for P.E., the mood in the room lifted slightly, the way pressure drops before a window opens. Jotaro stood and walked out. Shintaro followed.
The boys' restroom at the far end of the hallway was empty — the remote location had apparently discouraged traffic. A faucet dripped steadily. The sound carried clearly in the quiet.
They stood at separate positions, one stall of space between them.
Jotaro said nothing.
Shintaro considered it a basic, non-negotiable point of male dignity.
Always leave a gap. This is law.
Just as Shintaro reached a state of relaxed inattention —
"BOSS! WATCH OUT!!!"
The Black Sperm's scream detonated inside his skull.
CRASH!
The high window exploded inward. Glass scattered in every direction as emerald-green streaks screamed through the opening with a piercing, high whistle.
Death arrived all at once.
Hamon surged up Shintaro's spine like a struck wire. His hair stood on end. He yanked up his pants and spun in the same motion.
"Black Sperm!"
Bo-bo-bo-bo-bo —!
Dozens of black figures erupted from the shadows on the dimly lit walls, shooting upward in a concentrated geyser. They stacked mid-air in an instant, forming a dense writhing barrier between Shintaro and the incoming attack.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The emeralds slammed into the barrier with brutal force.
"OW —" "This hurts so much — what is this thing?!" "My waist's going to snap!" "Stop — stop grabbing my face with your hand!"
Most were blocked. But one emerald punched clean through the wall — its momentum dulled but not killed — and carved into Shintaro's right arm with a sensation like a blade dragged sideways through muscle.
Blood welled up immediately.
Shintaro hissed, staring at the wound. The cut was deeper than he'd braced for. Nothing like what the anime made it look like.
Several emeralds had lodged into the bodies of the Black Sperm, frost-like vapor leaking from their points of impact.
"Yare yare..."
Jotaro's voice cut through the chaos without urgency.
Star Platinum partially manifested beside him — its presence shredding the remaining falling glass before it could reach either of them. Jotaro vaulted onto the windowsill in one fluid motion and swept the schoolyard below with a sharp gaze.
Only trees. Swaying shadows and morning light.
"No visual," he said, landing back onto the tiles. "He's already moved."
He crouched and picked up an emerald fragment. He turned it between his fingers, applied pressure.
Crack. Powder.
"Energy-based," Jotaro said, quietly. "A Stand attack."
Shintaro pulled the Black Sperm back into his shadow and pressed his palm against his arm, trying to gauge the bleed rate.
Kakyoin aimed at me specifically?
That made no sense by any logic he could reconstruct. DIO's standing orders should have prioritized targets from the Joestar bloodline. An unknown face with no documented connection to anyone relevant — Shintaro shouldn't even be a named target, let alone the primary one.
Unless the butterfly effect had changed more than just the timing.
Jotaro glanced at the blood soaking through the black cuff.
"Are you alright?"
"It's not fatal," Shintaro exhaled. "But I'll need the infirmary."
"Let's go," Jotaro said without hesitation.
He adjusted his hat, his tone as blunt as a closed door.
"Don't read anything into this. If you bled out in a school restroom, the police paperwork would be a serious inconvenience."
"Thank you, JOJO."
As they turned to leave, Shintaro stopped and covered the lower half of his face with one hand — the gesture carrying a specific, theatrical gravitas.
"Even though neither of us can go to P.E. now," he said, his voice taking on the weight of a man arriving at a profound and unshakeable conclusion, "a certain instinct carved deep into my very soul — what I can only call the Golden Spirit — is guiding my actions at this moment."
He slowly moved his hand aside, meeting Jotaro's gaze with complete, unironic seriousness.
"When faced with a P.E. teacher who teaches like garbage... I will skip class without hesitation."
Jotaro went still.
His fingers, raised toward his hat brim, stopped mid-motion.
He stared at Shintaro's absolutely self-satisfied expression. The phrasing. The pose. The tone.
This guy just stole my lines. And did the hand thing. With a straight face.
"...Yare yare daze."
Jotaro turned away.
"If your arm is fine enough for you to stand there being insufferable," he said, already walking, "then stop wasting time."
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