[reuploading10 chapters]
An unplaceable anxiety pressed down on the air, thick and suffocating — the kind of stillness that comes just before something breaks.
Shintaro felt it as a faint tingling crawling across his skin, like static electricity dragging its fingernails slowly along every nerve ending.
ゴゴゴゴゴ...
The sound reverberated directly inside his skull.
He jolted awake with a sharp gasp, cold sweat already soaking through his clothes as his back slammed into something unyielding. Hard. Icy.
Concrete.
He was lying on a detention cell floor.
Dim yellow light leaked in from a single bulb at the far end of the corridor, stretching the shadows of iron bars into long, jagged strips across the ground — like a row of black fangs biting into the dark.
"Where... is this?"
His voice came out small, hoarse, as though it had spent a long time being unused.
Shintaro pushed himself up. His fingers brushed something cold and metallic. He looked down.
An exquisitely crafted remote-control race car lay beside him, its surface flawless and clearly expensive. Nearby sat several unopened cans of imported beer. An old cassette radio hissed softly between stations. A few magazines were scattered about — marine life, coral reefs, deep-sea creatures with hollow, patient eyes.
This wasn't the abandoned clutter of an empty cell.
Slowly, with the careful dread of a man who already suspects the answer, Shintaro turned his head.
His breath stopped entirely.
In the deepest corner of the cell sat a figure that occupied space the way a boulder occupies a riverbed — simply, completely, and with no interest in your opinion about it.
A seventeen-year-old high school student, dressed in a black uniform.
His shoulders were unnaturally broad, defying common sense. His neck was thick, his frame built in a way that suggested standing would clear two meters without effort. The brim of his hat was pulled low, forming that unmistakable silhouette — cap and hair merged into a single shape — hiding all but the hard line of his chin and his tightly pressed lips.
He sat in silence, flipping through a marine biology picture book, ignoring the stranger who had just woken up in his cell with the supreme disinterest of someone who has already decided the world isn't worth the energy.
Kujo... Jotaro?
Shintaro's thoughts collapsed into static.
That outfit. That posture. That quiet, suffocating pressure compressing the air around him like something physical. There was only one person in the entire world built exactly like this.
Had he actually crossed into this moment? Japan, 1987. The detention center where Kujo Jotaro had locked himself away from a world he was afraid of hurting.
"Hey."
A low, rough voice, edged with clear irritation. Jotaro hadn't even looked up from the page.
"When did you get in here, you bastard?"
"I..." Shintaro swallowed. His throat was dry. "I don't know. I woke up here."
The book closed with a quiet, decisive snap.
Jotaro raised his head slowly.
"Don't know?" He scoffed — flat, cutting. Then his gaze sharpened.
"Don't move."
The command hit Shintaro's body before his mind could process it.
"There's something... behind you."
Before he could even begin to react, the air twisted.
A purple arm burst into existence behind Jotaro — muscular, covered in patterns that pulsed with an unnatural vitality. It moved impossibly fast, leaving nothing but a blurred afterimage scorched into Shintaro's vision. The hand shot past him —
Smack.
A crisp, violent sound.
Shintaro turned his head, trembling.
The purple hand hovered beside his ear. A crushed mosquito dripped lifelessly from its fingers.
That was —
Star Platinum.
Though it had not yet been named, the so-called "Evil Spirit" stood unmistakably before his eyes. Wild hair like a storm. Purple skin gleaming under the dim corridor light. A face carved sharp and merciless, a god built for war rather than mercy.
"You can see it?"
For the first time, genuine surprise entered Jotaro's voice.
He stood.
As he rose, the cramped cell seemed to shrink around him. The air went heavy and oppressive. A pressure that Shintaro could only name fear pressed against his chest until breathing required deliberate thought.
"You can see that 'Evil Spirit'?" Jotaro stepped closer, looming over him from above. "Answer me."
Shintaro nodded violently. Lying right now would be suicide.
"I — I can see it!" he blurted. "That purple thing — like a guardian spirit!"
Jotaro studied him for several silent seconds. The hostility in his eyes eased, just slightly.
"So you're not ordinary either." He adjusted his hat brim and turned back to the cluttered corner. "Stay away from me. This thing's out of my control. It brings things back here and attacks anyone who gets close indiscriminately. Since you can see it, keep yourself safe."
Relief crashed through Shintaro like a wave. He scrambled to the opposite corner and pressed his back hard against the cold bars.
His heart thundered in his ears.
Stand Users are drawn to one another.
If he could see a Stand, that meant he had the qualification. Either he already possessed some ability — or he was about to awaken one very soon.
He couldn't afford to waste this chance. He had read the manga. He knew how cruel this story's fate could be, how merciless Araki's hand was. If he had entered this world, he had to survive it. More than that — he had to stand beside the main cast when it mattered.
Click. Click. Click.
High heels echoed down the corridor.
Two police officers appeared first, guiding the way. Then a gentle-looking Japanese woman came into view, and she grabbed the iron bars before anyone could say a word, worry etched openly across her face.
Kujo Holly.
"Jotaro! Mom's here to see you!"
"Yakamashi, you hag." Jotaro's voice was sharp, carrying a real edge of violence.
Holly didn't flinch. She smiled warmly instead. "Okay~"
She turned to the guards, voice soft and pleading. "This child... he's actually very kind-hearted. He would never hurt anyone..."
Jotaro rolled onto his bunk and turned his back to them, apparently going to sleep.
The guard's patience snapped. He kicked the bars hard.
Clang! Clang!
"Kujo! Don't you dare pretend! Your mother's here to take you home!"
Jotaro sat up slowly. He raised one hand and adjusted his hat brim. His face stayed hidden in shadow.
"Go back, Mom," he said. Calm. Quiet. Final. "I'm fine here."
Shintaro watched in silence.
He knew what came next. The bullet. Star Platinum's hand.
But something felt wrong.
In the original story, this cell should have held other prisoners — four, maybe five — people who would be shouting, scrambling to the bars, begging to be moved to another cell.
But now there was only silence.
Jotaro's voice rang out again, clear and steady: "I'm possessed by an 'Evil Spirit.' I can't control it. I don't even know what it might do next."
The words fell into empty air.
No shouts. No panic. No witnesses.
The guards exchanged a look. One of them stared at Jotaro for a long moment, something shifting in his expression — the suspicion slowly replaced by something that looked almost like pity.
Finally, the older guard leaned toward Holly and lowered his voice. "Ma'am... this is what I meant. We were ready to release him, but he absolutely refuses to leave."
He hesitated, rubbing his hands together slowly.
"I don't mean any offense, but... has he ever been examined by a doctor?"
He tapped his temple once, lightly.
The meaning needed no further explanation.
_____________________
https://[email protected]/mrSOMEONE01234? [replace @ with a]
[[[[Please at least visit my patreon so I can have some traffic]]]]]
Also try
[[[Restaurant in Douluo Dalu (530+ch)]]] {6$}
[[[Jujutsu kaisen : Eight Gates For Heavenly Restriction(196+)(COMPLETED) ]]] {6$} [[[JOJO: My Stand Is Black Sperm(100+ch)]]]{6$}