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sundropdandelion · 2 years ago

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Love Like You: Rohan Kishibe and Daughter Reader

Chapter Three: Let Me Take You Home Tonight

Everyone in Morioh and beyond knew that once Rohan had his mind fixated on a task, it was just about impossible to tear him away from it; and he himself knew this, as he knew that the Morioh sky blushed gold when happy and furrowed clouds when angry or mellow. Yet distraction did what it does best to Rohan as he drove, for he could feel the gaze of the little girl in the back seat clinging to him like a frightened newborn to her mother.

Rohan made direct eye contact with (Y/n) using the rearview mirror. He did so several times, and every time he did (Y/n) jumped, gasped, and directed her gaze elsewhere in a way that made it look like she had just been scolded.

“(Y/n)? Is there anything you need?” Rohan asked, to which no answer was received.

Rohan sighed and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. He thought of ways to ease (Y/n)’s nerves, scanning the passerby world outside of the car for ideas. He spotted cafés bundled like bouquets and was ready to suggest a bite to eat until checked in on (Y/n) again while mumbling, “right, she’s much too sick to be going out.”

He saw that she had fallen asleep, but it was barely a long-lived slumber, nor a peaceful one. She curled into herself in the backseat, fetal position, and dreamed of a suitable world she had known not of until her eye was pried open by the cold claws of fear.

(Y/n) flinched and whimpered and held a sudden alertness. Memories of the hour prior came flooding back, and fear’s companions, confusion and sorrow, too clouded her mind. Afterward she became hauntingly still, unsure of what to make of herself or her situation.

But that all changed when a herd of cherry blossom petals galloped past (Y/n)’s window; and Rohan, catching it like the wings of a hummingbird, saw a crescent-moon smile welcoming itself onto (Y/n)’s face.

“Morioh’s quite the lovely town, isn’t it?” He said, his attempt at making (Y/n) feel safe. She turned towards him, intrigued. “I moved here shortly after my manga grew in popularity, when I was able to afford a home more suitable for myself and my work. Why don’t you look around, see the things that make me proud to call Morioh my home?”

For the first time (Y/n)’s vision widened like curtains in a castle unveiling the sun of a new day; the scenery was like the words to start off a spell; and the citizens, even more enchanting, were the spell finally cast, a spell that, later down the road, would make (Y/n) see that Morioh is her true home:

A boy the same age as she weaved through a crowd with a camcorder in hand, occasionally pausing to adjust the yellow hat on his head. Not far ahead of him a man—and the only man like him on earth-–pulled out…ice cream cones from his suitcase? Across the street, a woman with flowing black hair greeted another woman holding a book of fairy tales in front of a beauty salon, while several feet away two short guys were in a heated argument about who spilled juice on a manga. An odd-looking boy counted his yen coins under a tree that was a hop, a skip, and a jump away from a man living in a transmission tower, and further down the road a chef waved goodbye to a family of five leaving his restaurant: a quite intimidating man dressed in white, a young girl with butterfly clips in her green braids and strings wrapping her wrists holding his hand and the hand of a woman dressed in pink, and an elderly man straggling behind with a baby in his arms. And up on a telephone pole was another boy her age with a hole in his cheek reaching for an apple in a tree.

In front of a convenience store called Owson stood three students chatting and laughing with each other. (Y/n) couldn’t help but giggle at them for different reasons: one had such a unique hairstyle, the one to the right of him was so short it was nearly comical, and the one to the left had an overall enthusiastic demeanor. Their good-natured spirits rubbed off on the girl, and she shyly waved toward the students before switching between seats to view a whole new world.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, her voice sounding the healthiest it’s been all day, “what’s that over there?”

“(Y/n),” Rohan scolded, “can you please not move around so much? Buckle up and stay put.”

Thereupon (Y/n) sulked at his tone of voice and did as she was told. “I-I’m sorry, sir…”

Rohan softened, realizing that he may have sounded too harsh. “It's alright, (Y/n); I understand that this is all so new to you; I just wouldn’t want you to get hurt in case of an acci— ngh! ”

A powerful roar whizzed by them, and Rohan slammed on the brakes. Luckily his seat was pulled up, so (Y/n) didn’t bump her head against it as she had the night prior.

“(Y/n), are you OK?”

She nodded then looked behind her to find the source of the noise. She spotted a man speeding down the road on a motorcycle with three young ladies holding onto him tightly. The quartet screamed and shouted from excitement as he did a wheelie, disappearing behind the hill, his motorcycle echoing through the wind.

“If there is one thing Morioh lacks, its citizens who don’t get under my skin,” Rohan said, though it sounded like he was speaking more to himself than (Y/n). “There are a few good ones, mind you, but for every good Morioh citizen there are at least two morons…”

He continued to grouse, and to the best of her ability (Y/n) tried to see his point of view; but when she thought back to that specific crowd of people she passed by just moments ago, she felt in her heart that her new home was a wonderful town called Morioh.

<><><>

(Y/n) never imagined that architecture could hold a sense of pride, yet there in front of her stood the Kishibe residence, radiating with pride from the inside out. The windows of the other homes always reflected the sun towards the mansion like a sideways glance, jealous of what they could have been: a Queen Anne style home with a balcony to see all of Morioh, individualistic with is asymmetry yet unified with its colors, with corner towers that could create stars by poking the night sky. It was clear to (Y/n) that it was a house suitable for only the wealthy, the robust, and the confident.

And that was exactly why (Y/n) suddenly felt overwhelmed.

She froze at the front steps, feeling the excitement evaporating from her soul; she badly wanted to venture into the house to explore, but her fear of tainting his perfect home held her back.

“The door is open for a reason, you know.”

(Y/n) snapped out of her thoughts. “Huh? Oh, I’m sorry! I was…I was just…I don’t know; I’m sorry…” Her voice trailed off, and she was about to step inside until Rohan placed a hand on her shoulder. (Y/n) flinched, and recalling what had happened back at the hotel, the mangaka quickly pulled his hand away.

“Are you feeling alright? You were much more bouncy and peppy in the car.”

(Y/n) turned to face Rohan, presenting him with a calming yet lying smile. “I’m OK, I guess I shouldn’t have moved around so much in the car…”

Rohan folded his arms. “Are you sure it's nothing else?”

“Yes, sir! I’m OK!”

The falseness in her smile grew.

Rohan sighed, “Alright, let’s just head inside so I can get everything set up for your stay.”

“Yes, sir!”

“And (Y/n)?” Rohan said sternly.

“Oh, yes, sir?”

A pollen-covered bumblebee crawled out of a flower, catching Rohan’s attention. He looked back once it flew off. “Don’t call me sir; it doesn’t feel right.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Um…”

Rohan raised an eyebrow. (Y/n) intertwined her fingers together, licking her lips as she asked, “May…may I call you Papa?”

Rohan bit his bottom lip and looked away once more. The bumblebee had returned, turning over in a patch of woodruff. He observed the shape of its legs and the texture of its fuzz, taking mental notes for future use. When he turned back he saw (Y/n) lean in from anticipation, though he never looked her directly in the eye.

“...Call me Rohan-Sensei.”

(Y/n) remained silent. The air had turned its back, pretending to not have seen the awkwardness of the situation. With a heavy head and a shut eye to hold back tears, (Y/n) followed Rohan into the house. He, in contrast, peeped his head out of the door one last time to get one last look at the bumblebee.

It was gone once again.

Introduction: https://www.tumblr.com/sundropdandelion/720403229648748544/love-like-you-rohan-kishibe-and-daughter-reader?source=share

#rohan kishibe #jojo's bizarre adventure #daughter reader #diamond is unbreakable #fanfiction #josuke higashikata #jjba #jotaro kujo #anime and manga #morioh

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sundropdandelion · 2 years ago

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Love Like You: Rohan Kishibe and Daughter Reader

Chapter Two: Hello Old Friend

Rohan scoffed to himself, though if a passerby were to ask why, his pride would never allow him to say that he was intimidated by the door in front of him. The simple slab of wood, one meant to welcome the familiar and keep the strange out, loomed over the mangaka. His eyes locked with the peephole, and unease of the rawest kind frosted over his spine at the thought of someone staring back at him at that very moment. The letter crept up on him like a spider, its ability to speak volumes without a sound tempting Rohan to turn back once again.

But I am The Great Kishibe Rohan, as brave as they come! he thought to himself; and with those words being convincing enough to drive him forward, he raised his hand, took a deep breath in, and…

Knock, knock, knock.

The door creaked open. Rohan could have sworn that he saw a lump of shadows scurrying away from the frame. It was hard to tell, for the curtains greedily claimed the sunlight peeking through the window to warm up their fragile bodies, and a frigid breeze had swaddled his body. A mellow whirring rang inside of his ears, indicating that the A/C was blasting.

“Hello?” Rohan half-whispered as he ventured into the room to search for a light switch. He instead found himself, strangely enough, falling face-first onto the ground! “Damn it,” he exclaimed, massaging his now sore nose, “what the hell was that?”

There was a gasp followed by a shuffle. Rohan, his uneasiness swelling like a balloon and his fingers fumbling for a light switch, heard what seemed to be frightened whimpers coming from the corner of the hotel room. He found the light switch and flicked it on, squinting from the sudden light flooding his eyes.

Nothing about the room seemed out of the ordinary: there was a bed made with obvious care, and a television perched on a mahogany table. Above it all was a ceiling fan spinning slowly, and there was even a fish tank that glimmered from the fish swimming around proudly next to the bathroom door.

But none of the other hotel rooms had a trembling pile of filthy blankets in the corner.

“H-Hello?” Rohan stuttered in a whisper, feeling his heart drop once he realized that there were droplets of blood on the blankets. He approached the pile quietly, taking caution not to frighten whoever may be hiding. With bated breath, Rohan tore away the blankets...

Then, for the first time in his life, Rohan felt his heart break.

If there was one word to describe the little girl staring at Rohan with a fearful look, it would be death. With sickly pale skin and a figure so frail that it could shatter like glass, Rohan questioned how the girl was even alive in the first place. Even with these features, as well as her disheveled overalls, matted tresses, and baggy right eye, nothing was as disheartening as the bandage wrapped around her left eye. It broke his heart even further to see the girl attempt to cover it with both of her hands.

And this girl was his supposed daughter.

“Are…are you (Y/n)?”

Her lips, the blue of a bruise, parted slightly, though not a sound was made. Her trembles worsened, a dreaded combination of the gelid air nipping at her skin and fear taking over. She grasped the blanket tighter, then eventually answered, “How do you know my name?”

Rohan’s face softened upon hearing the raspiness of her voice. “Well,” he began tenderly, pulling out the letter from his pocket, “this morning I got a letter sent by a woman named (M/n). She is your mother, I presume?”

Subtle as snowfall, (Y/n) loosened up. “Mama sent that to you?”

“She did,” Rohan replied, relaxed that one of his many questions had been answered. Then he looked around, puzzled. “Where is she, anyway?”

(Y/n) hunched her back further. “Um…I’m…I’m not sure.” Her voice grew quieter with every word.

“Not sure? She left you here all alone, without telling you where she was going?”

“Mhm. Mama does that a lot; I never know when she will come back…”

(Y/n)’s face was rampant with unnecessary guilt. Rohan could tell by her expression that tears were hesitant to burst forth, for each tear she had ever shed gazed into the hollow, unforgiving eyes of fruitlessness and loneliness. Then, not a moment later, her expression twisted into one of shock and panic, and (Y/n)’s hands flew to her eye as a barrage of coughs battered her lungs.

And Rohan too panicked when he saw blood dribbling from her eye.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n), are you alright?!” Rohan fell to his knees and dug his arm into his bag, searching around for a handkerchief to clean her injury. “Alright,” he said upon finding one, “come here, let me clean your wound—”

“No! Stay away from me! ”

As though her words pricked his fingers, Rohan dropped the handkerchief and withdrew his arm at (Y/n)’s sudden outburst. Digging her back into the wall, (Y/n) pulled the blanket up to her face whilst Rohan kept his distance to calm her down. She clumsily brought her hands up to her eye and watched Rohan’s movements, and he in return watched her quivers cease and her breathing even out.

Then a newfound feeling emerged from deep within Rohan’s bones, a crouching intuition ready to wrap its arms around the fragile child trapped in her metaphorical box. He didn’t realize it at the time, but that feeling was his paternal instinct to protect.

And so, Rohan knelt down and held his hand out. (Y/n) hesitated to accept the gesture, refusing to take her hands off of her bandage. Her single eye bored into Rohan’s green eyes in search for any trace of dishonesty so that she would not be tricked. In his eyes, all she found was candor; and her hands lowered from her eye to reach towards his.

“Rohan?”

The door slammed open and the two of them jumped. (Y/n) dove back into the blankets and whimpered, and Rohan whipped his head towards the door to see who it was.

The concept of beauty would drop dead with just a mere gaze at the woman in the doorway, as though it had been turned to stone. Scales of light slithered along the spines of her black, coiled locks; her nails and lips were of the same red, and her irises might as well have been plucked from a belladonna. Even the dirtied rags she wore seemed beautiful on her skin.

“(M/n)...”

The woman dropped her bags to her side and gasped, “It really is you! Oh, my sweet Rohan, I knew that you would come back for me one day!”

“H-Hey, wait !”

Before he had time to question anything, Rohan was tackled to the ground and attacked by a barrage of kisses.

“Get off of me!” he hissed, shoving her away. Feeling a sticky substance on his face, he wiped his cheek and felt the shape of the familiar lipstick stain that he had once grown accustomed to.

“Daw, what’s wrong, Rohan? Can’t handle a wittle wove?”

The golden, pen-tipped earring recognized Rohan and blinked in the light as though it were waving to him. Old memories, both good and bad, flooded his consciousness like a dam.

“(M/n)...it really is you…”

“In the flesh!” She struck a playful pose. “Oh Rohan, I don’t think you even realize how much I’ve missed you! How is the manga business coming along? Are you still writing Pink Dark Boy? I haven’t been able to read it in forever—”

Rohan noticed a sudden roll of (M/n)’s eyes, a cock of the left side of her lip, and little (Y/n) tugging innocently at her raggy pants. “(Y/n).” Her voice couldn’t choose between a joking or irritated tone. “ Must you interrupt the moment between us? What could be so important for you to do so— (Y/n)! Your eye! Oh sweetie, what happened? ”

The gasp that tore apart her words did not sound like that of a concerned mother when her child falls off of a bike or scrapes his or her knee: it was a gasp of disgust, as though the child in front of her was the most grotesque thing she had ever seen. Rohan easily picked up on it, and proceeded to explain in an equal tone for a different reason, “she broke into a fairly nasty coughing fit, then her eye started to bleed. I tried to help her, but she nearly had a meltdown.” He then picked up on something else, the quick and angry glare (M/n) gave her daughter.

“Yeah, she has a 101 fever…the poor thing, you just can’t catch a break, can you?”

“May I ask what happened? There seems to be a lot.”

(M/n) sighed again, massaging her temples. She began to tell the story.

“It only happened a week ago. (Y/n) was playing in the backyard without a care in the world, as all children should. It was so beautiful out, I had my eyes closed as I was listening intently to the birds outside and enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face; but suddenly, I heard a horrific, bloodcurdling scream! I jumped out of my seat and immediately saw that (Y/n) had tripped, and a large piece of wood had been plunged into her eye!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Rohan noticed that (Y/n) gave her mother a peculiar look.

“I tried bringing her to the hospital and an emergency walk-in clinic, but the mere sight of her and her injury made the doctors turn us away in disgust! I begged for help from strangers, just about anyone I could find, but not a single one of them wanted to help us. I had to take matters into my own hands, treating (Y/n)’s wound to the best of my ability and finding a way to reach you, seeing that you wanted nothing to do with me after we split up.”

(M/n) grabbed both of Rohan’s hands and pulled them close to her chest.

“You don’t understand what I’ve been through, Rohan, the absolute hell I’ve endured. Ever since you left me and I found out that I was pregnant with your daughter, nothing has been right or safe; the entire world has been our enemy. We were forced to seek refuge in an abandoned house in the woods on the edge of a town just crawling with cruel, selfish, and unforgiving people. We were spat on, called ‘rats’ and ‘scum,’ and had to dig through trash cans just to find crumbs! We were caught in the rain, and slept on piles of blankets on a floor covered in bits of glass and dirt—oh Rohan, don’t let me finish! It's bad enough (Y/n) had to make things worse with her clumsiness!”

(M/n) shot another glare towards her daughter. (Y/n) recoiled slowly, prompting her mother to bark, “Oh (Y/n), I’m only teasing! Will you stop being so sensitive?”

“Hold on a second.” Rohan pointed an accusing finger at (M/n). “If you are flat broke, how did you afford this hotel room?”

Her mood flicked like a light switch; she chuckled suggestively, flicked her hair back, traced her hands down her hips, and licked her lips. “Why, isn’t it obvious?”

Rohan, wishing he didn’t ask, shut his eyes and sucked air in through his teeth. (M/n) laughed, then got back to the topic at hand.

“That’s why I had to find you, Rohan: I want to turn my life around for the better, to give our daughter the life she never had; the one she deserves. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone for, but during that time I’m going to be looking for jobs and working day in and out until I’ve made enough to get a place for (Y/n) and I in a town that will guarantee her safety and happiness. So I must ask you, Rohan, this favor as a friend.”

(M/n) pushed (Y/n) towards Rohan, showing off her impoverished state to pluck at his heartstrings further. The girl looked between her mother and father, confused and scared.

“Will you, the Great Kishibe Rohan, take care of our daughter for me?”

During the exchange a being known as silence had been perched in the corner of the hotel room, awaiting the perfect moment to spread its dove-soft wings and blanket the scene below. It did just that, (M/n)’s question being its cue; and in the silence, Rohan approached the instinct to protect once more; and this time, the instinct had a voice, a voice that spoke these words:

Save her.

“I will. I will take care of (Y/n).”

(M/n)’s eyes welled with tears, and the reflection of the light made it look as though stars had formed. “My sweet Rohan, I knew you wouldn’t say no! Thank you, thank you!”

<><><>

After everything was packed up, the three left the hotel and made their way to Rohan’s car. As he threw (Y/n)’s ‘luggage’ (could a trash bag be considered as such?) into the trunk, (M/n) pulled her daughter aside to say one final goodbye.

“Now (Y/n), I want you to be a good girl for Rohan. Listen to what he says and give him space to do his work. Do not annoy—or basically—be yourself too much,” (M/n) said with a chuckle.

(Y/n)’s face fell. “OK, Mama…”

“Oh please, I’m only teasing again.” (M/n) lifted (Y/n)’s chin. “Alright?”

“Alright…Mama, may I ask you something, please?”

She perked an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Kish…what was the man’s name again?”

“Kishibe Rohan; he was my boyfriend for some time, and your father, (Y/n).”

(Y/n) looked confused. “Um…Kishibe Rohan is my Papa, but you told me that I don’t have a—”

(M/n) quickly brought her finger up to (Y/n)’s mouth to silence her.

“Listen to me. Once I’ve gotten a new job and bought a new home to live in, I’m going to come back for you, and we’ll live a life leagues better than our last one; and if you ever lose hope in that idea, always look at this.”

She removed one of her pen-tip earrings and placed it in (Y/n)’s palm. The girl, the slightest sign of a smile forming, curled her fingers around the jewelry to protect it from any outside threats.

“This earring is a reminder of the bright future ahead of us. I’m going to work my absolute hardest for you and I, and once I come back for you, everything will be perfect, as it should be.”

“Do you promise?” asked (Y/n). Her mother flashed her a strange grin.

“I promise; and do you promise me, (Y/n), that you’ll never lose faith in me?”

“I promise, Mama.”

Even though the words of her mother had her undivided attention, (Y/n) suddenly noticed how quiet the world around her became: birds had been rustling in the bushes and the breeze huffed and puffed to herd a flock of clouds across the sky; but now everything had lost its voice, as though the world stopped to watch (M/n) place her lips next to her daughter’s ear.

“One last thing, (Y/n). Tell anyone the truth about everything that’s happened, and I’ll kill you. Understand?”

(Y/n) swallowed. Her eye remained unblinking. She shook once more, and only nodded.

Rohan slammed the trunk; then the world continued its chatter like a bystander. Seeing that the mangaka was drawing near, (M/n) smooched her daughter on the forehead with great exaggeration, saying, “remember everything I’ve told you, OK? I truly care about you.”

“Is everything alright? (Y/n) looks terrified!” Rohan exclaimed as he wondered what he missed.

“(Y/n) is fine; she was just telling me how much she’s going to miss me. This is a lot for a nine-year-old girl, after all!”

(Y/n) looked down at the earring in her hand once more. Her stomach twisted weirdly, unsure of what to make of the situation.

“Understandable, really—Oh, before I forget.” Rohan scribbled down some numbers on a post-it note. “If you ever want to talk to (Y/n)---”

“Or you?” (M/n) giggled, batting her lashes.

Rohan groaned. “Or me , call this number. I’ll be taking (Y/n) to the hospital first thing tomorrow, but I think it’ll be best if she rests—”

“Yeah, great to know. Hey Ro? Aren’t you going to give me something?”

Rohan paused and blinked, taken aback at the response. “What is it,” he said once his thoughts were gathered, “a kiss?”

“Besides that,” (M/n) replied, puckering her lips playfully. “As you know, I’m just about flat-broke. Think you could spare me some yen to help me get started on my journey? Pwetty pwease?”

Another groan left Rohan’s mouth. He leaned against his car and facepalmed. “Well, considering how poor you are and barely have a leg to stand on, I suppose I can lend you some cash to get you on your way.”

(Y/n)’s imagination, being one of a Kishibe, ran wild at the thought of his wallet being sentient, as it seemed to grin in relief, no longer needing to hold a tremendous amount of cash. “Here’s 205,000 yen. Can I trust you to use it wisely, (M/n)?”

Her eyes looked bugged, and she just about snatched the wad of yen out of his hands and kissed it several times over. “Thank you, Ro! Don’t worry, you can count on me! Now—“ she leaned in with a devilish smirk — “want that kiss?”

Rohan turned on his heel and towards (Y/n). (M/n) snickered, then grew serious. “Seriously though, I want to thank you for this; I know we’ve had our rough patches in the past, but we gotta put them aside for our daughter. It’s moments like these—“

She looked towards (Y/n), who had placed her troubles elsewhere and found a glimmer of joy in a teeny caterpillar: she placed her finger down, brought it up to her face once it crawled onto her finger, giggled at the tickling sensation, then placed it onto the branch of a bush so it could feast.

“---That make me realize that I should be thankful for the little things I have. I’m going to miss you two so much!”

A familiar warmth graced Rohan’s face. (M/n)’s slender hand cupped his cheek and—unlike before—Rohan fully accepted her affection. In a way, he was hypnotized by her beauty, to the point where he was almost tempted to bend down and kiss her ruby lips; almost.

“Goodbye, my sweet Rohan.”

Rohan paused before replying, letting her words resonate with him. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze as it slid down his face. “...Goodbye, (M/n). Good luck out there.”

And with that, (M/n) walked off, ready to prepare for a bright future. Rohan, now feeling a complicated somberness, watched her figure shrink as the distance grew, and just before she was gone for good, the rays of the sun kissed her earring. The light reflecting off of it was the last thing that he and (Y/n) saw of her.

Speaking of, the mangaka looked down at the girl, finding her staring at him. Her distance was kept, clear that she still didn’t quite trust him. That was understandable; Rohan was even surprised that she wasn’t having a meltdown. It must be traumatizing for the nine-year-old to be separated from her mother and dumped off to a complete stranger.

But Rohan was going to show her that everything will be alright.

Just like before, Rohan knelt to her height and held out his hand. (Y/n) hesitated once again, but this time, she fully accepted his offer, putting her tiny hand into the palm of his. A little bit of the tension that (Y/n)’s body and mind held vanished, thanks to Rohan’s touch. It was warm; soft; and most importantly, safe.

“Come on, I’ll take good care of you. I promise.”

Introduction: https://www.tumblr.com/sundropdandelion/720403229648748544/love-like-you-rohan-kishibe-and-daughter-reader?source=share

#rohan kishibe #diamond is unbreakable #daughter reader #fanfiction #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #anime and manga

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sundropdandelion · 2 years ago

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Love Like You: Rohan Kishibe and Daughter Reader

Introduction

Hello, everyone! I'm SundropDandelion, and welcome to Love Like You! For this fan-fiction is quite different from Diamond is Unbreakable, I would like to lay out the ground rules:

This is an alternate universe where stands don't exist. As much as I wanted to put them in, I decided against it, since a lot of the things I have planned won't work because of certain abilities (Crazy Diamond and Heaven's Door, for example). However, there is one character who breaks this rule, and that is Mikitaka Hazekura, who is a genuine alien in this. Why? Because aliens are cool.

Rohan is aged up in this for obvious reasons.

Tonio is Okuyasu's adoptive father in this (I've always loved the headcanon that Okuyasu works as Tonio's apprentice, so I've decided to take the idea further).

This story has heavy themes relating to abuse, abandonment, and permanent injuries. Whenever there is a scene that delves into these topics, I will put a warning.

And I am always open to feedback! Please let me know my strengths and how I can improve! Thank you! <3

The first chapter can be found here: https://www.tumblr.com/sundropdandelion/720403164910780416/love-like-you-rohan-kishibe-and-daughter-reader

#rohan kishibe #diamond is unbreakable #jojo's bizarre adventure #daughter reader #josuke higashikata #okuyasu nijimura #koichi hirose #jotaro kujo

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sundropdandelion · 2 years ago

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Love Like You: Rohan Kishibe and Daughter Reader

CHAPTER ONE: THE LETTER

Late into the night, long after the sun had gone down and all the children of the world were tucked safely in their beds, a small girl no older than nine sat alone in the back of her mother’s archaic car as it sped down the interstate. The curtain of raindrops on the windshield ahead held thousands of yellow headlights, still managing to make the girl squint while she faced her reflection in the window next to her.

She was delicate: not delicate like the porcelain dolls loved by little girls around the world, but delicate like the dead leaves of a flower that would wither with a single wrong touch. She was timid: not timid like a child meeting a new friend at a playground, but timid to where there was a cramp in her neck from thinking danger was just over her shoulder. She was completely helpless in such an uncertain world.

But the worst of it all was the bloodied towel wrapped around her eye.

The girl’s name was (Y/n). She listened intently to what appeared to be fragments of a song breaking through the static on the radio while tracing a raindrop with her fingertip. The droplet soon collided with another, and she dropped her hand to the side with a sigh. “Where are we going?” she asked her mother.

Her mother tugged at one of the earrings shaped like the tip of a pen dangling from her ear. When a car whizzed by they would flicker gold, and the reflective light would be imprisoned behind coils of black hair. (Y/n) leaned forward slightly and opened her mouth to repeat the question, but then thought, Mama always touches her earrings when she’s unhappy, so she clamped her mouth shut and shuffled her knees awkwardly.

“Did you say something?”

(Y/n) perked her head up with great surprise; any answers to her questions were far and few in between. Flustered, (Y/n) dropped her head, watching her feet shimmy as though they were passing an invisible ball back and forth, second-guessing her option to ask the question again.

“Well? Don’t keep me waiting.”

(Y/n) shot her head up again. “Um…I…I just wanted to know where we’re going. We’ve been driving for a long time…”

Her mother tugged at the other earring and then began to speak. “Before you were born, there was a town I used to visit frequently: it was a lovely town, and though I didn’t know too many residents, the ones I did meet had hearts of gold; but there was one man in particular who, upon first meeting him, had the most golden heart of all.”

(Y/n) latched onto the rarity of the situation, the mind of an attention-starved child savoring the morsel of information thrown to her, like a beggar to bread. She asked, unknown curiosity pecking on the inside of her heart like a twitching egg, “Mama? Who was the man?”

“He was drowning in riches,” she began, failing to mention the man’s name, as her memories seduced her in a dream-like state. “Walls of gold, closets packed with fabrics from all around the world…he was an endless supply of happiness…but then, things fell apart.”

“Mama, what happened to you and the man?”

(Y/n)’s question lingered in the air like a bad taste in the mouth. The earring was tugged at yet again; silence, aside from the rain.

“Mama?”

Sudden resentment swooped in and perched itself on her mother’s eyebrows.

“You know, people aren’t always what they seem. One moment they act sickenly loyal and loving, and in the blink of an eye they turn it all around and leave you behind.”

“Oh.” (Y/n) didn’t know what else to say. Her mother continued her rambling.

“You share secrets under the moonlight; those secrets become weapons against you. You cry in the candlelight, yet your tears can never extinguish the fiery rage of betrayal; and after the last drop of love is squeezed dry from your heart, they toss away your husk of a soul.”

(Y/n) argued with herself within her head, tempted to ask about the situation further. I wonder what happened to Mama and the man? she thought, and the curiosity of a child took her mind by the reins. “Mama, did that man do all of those things to you?”

Not an answer was heard.

“Um…Mama?”

“(Y/n),” she snipped unexpectedly, “mind your own business.”

(Y/n) began to dip her toe too deep into the murky waters of the memory of her mother.

“But—”

“(Y/n), please!”

“I just want to know!”

“Enough!”

The car, which had left the highway minutes before and pulled through a road surrounded by trees as straight as palace guards, came to a screeching halt. (Y/n) caught herself from colliding with the back of her mother’s car seat with a thrust of her arms; hesitant to face what she knew was the angry expression of the woman in the front, she sat back and saw said woman staring at her with ice in her eyes.

“End of the discussion. Understand?”

“I understand; I’m sorry, Mama.”

Her mother groaned something under her breath, too quiet to make out the words. (Y/n), feeling unnecessarily ashamed, hid her pale, unsmiling face behind her weak knees. She distracted herself from the boiling stew of negativity in her chest racing up to the tips of her ears by watching the endless rainfall outside of the window, wondering where they could be going on such a stormy night.

Maybe she would find someone to love her and bring her happiness, as her mother found long ago?

<><><>

Good morning Morioh! The weather is warm, and flowers and animals are peeking out from their hiding spots, so this could only mean one thing...spring is here!

Seated on his front porch was a man known near and far for his incredible skills as an artist and his diligent working habits. His name was Rohan Kishibe, and whether he was sketching pictures or snapping photos, he was always on the hunt for inspiration from the aspects of reality that he found fascinating, which could be from the tallest tree to the teeniest ant. Right now, the 32-year-old was finding inspiration in the blossoming flora and awakening fauna in his yard, sketching the beauty that spring had brought to the town of Morioh.

Here’s a song to help you all catch a case of spring fever! Remember, if you ever feel a little blue, remind yourself that good things always come in this season!

April Come She Will began to play on the radio and Rohan couldn’t help but hum along. He curled his lips upwards at the last words of that morning’s announcement. Whatever good was to come, Rohan couldn’t help but feel intrigued. Perhaps, he thought, it could inspire me in new ways?

The sound of a bicycle bell cut his thoughts short and Rohan glanced up, eyeing the mailman approaching his mailbox.

“Mornin’, Rohan! Enjoying the weather, are we?”

“What else would I be doing?” Rohan said as he stood up and accepted his mail.

“You know,” began the mailman, “I just read the latest volume of Pink Dark Boy, great job as always! But there was one thing missing…”

“And what might that be?” Rohan replied, not bothering to look up from the letters.

The mailman looked down to hide his deepening blush. “Naked women—think about it! If you sprinkled a few nudes here and there, Pink Dark Boy’s sales would skyrocket!

Naked women? thought Rohan bitterly. That’s his genius idea? Feeling quite peeved, Rohan turned around to give the mailman a scolding about how the beauty of manga was not in the sales, but the artist found that the mailman had already taken off on his bike, shouting one final message to him.

“Well, I gotta go! Lots of deliveries to be made! I hope you consider what I said!”

Rohan rolled his eyes.

“What does he know about comics anyway?” Rohan told himself. “He is but a mailman; his occupation is as simple as his mind!”

Seeing that trivial matters were rather exhausting, Rohan made his way inside whilst sifting through the mail. There was the Morioh newspaper with enough inspiration to write entire novels, meddlesome bills (though when one has as many riches as Rohan Kishibe, money is the least of troubles), and the much-expected fan letters from teens begging for an internship or kids who saw themselves as rebellious by writing to the author of a series their parents believed would corrupt their minds.

But on the bottom of it all was a letter that only had the word ‘mysterious’ to describe it: a single lipstick stain, rich and red and velvety, was puckered up against the paper lips of the envelope; Rohan’s address was written so poorly a chicken would scratch its own head trying to decipher it; not a name from the sender was to be seen.

Rohan was built head to nose with curiosity; mysterious letters like the one clutched between his hands would send him dashing to his studio to create a new story; but he instead froze in place, nervous fingers tracing along the crease of the envelope, questioning if he dared open it or not. The uncharacteristic reaction stirred his heart, squalls of uneasy thoughts bursting forth as he retrieved an envelope knife and opened the letter.

This is what was written:

To my dear Rohan Kishibe,

It's been a long time, hasn’t it? Ten years, I’d say? Now, I hate writing to you out of the blue, but I wouldn’t dare tear you away from your work without a serious reason; you may have to be sitting down for what you are about to read. Shortly after you and I went our separate ways, I found out that I was pregnant with your child. We have a daughter named (Y/n), and due to the financial issues I have been struggling with, I am afraid that I cannot take care of her for some time. (Y/n) is in very poor condition, and I don’t know how much longer she will last. Please stop by the Morioh Grand Hotel once you get this letter; my room number is 199. Hope to see you soon!

Love,

(M/n) (Last Name)

…

Rohan had to sit down.

At least he tried to, for he instead found himself clutching the granite countertop of his island kitchen, just about buckling under the shock of what he just read.

“(M/n)? She’s…back?” He whispered, his words cold and numb as frostbite; he read the signature over at least five times. There are plenty of (M/n)s in the world, Rohan thought, though it was a rather fruitless theory since he only knew one (M/n) in his whole life. His past paramour was, however–and surprisingly–the least of his worries in the situation.

(Y/n): his supposed daughter.

“A trick!” he suddenly exclaimed. “This is another one of that witch’s tricks! She’s just screwing with me so she can worm her way back into my life! Tch.” He grinned smugly, as though he was trying to gain the upper hand of the scenario. “Doesn’t she know that a child would just be a nuisance to The Great Kishibe Rohan, and keep me even further away from her?”

He had nothing left to say; Rohan followed what he believed to be a lie, and into the trash fell a crumpled-up letter. The coolness of the spring day led him outside, where he leaned against the railing of his back porch and stared into his lawn.

A pristine, perfect lawn with an emerald sheen in the spring sun like peacock feathers: empty of worry in the center (except for one oak tree, which we will get to in a bit), and bordered with what one could consider beautiful clutter: thorny necks of roses bathing in the sun; hydrangeas cradling their husbands and wives and hundreds of kin; and rich mulch blanketing the more-natural earth. That’s how Rohan wanted his mind to be.

Alas, his mind was instead the oak towering above all in the center of his lawn, sunlight dusting its leaves like fresh, powdery snow. Rohan moved to lay underneath the canopy, gazing up into the constellation of breathing stars while contemplating how trees are like the future: thousands of relationships, millions of possibilities all woven in the dense blanket of life, withering away towards the end of its time, rebirthed as new beginnings for new life.

His philosophical musings came to a short end upon hearing weak chirping. Rohan rose to his feet in confusion and curiosity, circled the tree, and found that a baby bird had fallen from her nest on the other side of the trunk.

“Getting too antsy to fly, I see,” Rohan said, hesitant to reunite her with her mother above. “Look at you—your eyes aren’t open a wink!”

Rohan continued to stare at the baby bird at his feet. Her pink, naked body wriggled against the grass, trying to find proper footing. Above, the mother bird chirped threats towards Rohan, and his decision to aid the helpless creature was leaning more towards abandonment.

Then the wind tickled his ear, and he looked to the breeze; it was the same direction as the hotel, and like a child wanting their parent’s attention, the letter and what lay within tugged at his mind. That was when a great overgrowth of altruism weaved up his spine in a chill, and after taking a final glance at the newborn bird, retrieved his gardening gloves from his garage and raced back to the baby. He gently scooped the bird up, messily climbed the tree (he hadn’t done so since he was a young boy), and the bird rolled off of his fingertips and into her nest, eager to see her mother once more.

Rohan observed the way the family nestled in the tree. The mother bird, to his amusement, pecked her kin on the wing. She recognized her own under the fair scent of human, and the mother bird enveloped the baby under her feathery arms because her child was perfect as is. The unscripted scene struck a chord within Rohan’s heart: a chord of silky beauty, only found on the most magnificent of harps and the freest of equine; though guilt intruded in a hideous ring, akin to a cracked bell’s toll. It scolded Rohan into digging up the letter from his trash, to which he listened to his gut and did, inspecting the message once more.

“Is this a possible prank?” Rohan questioned, glancing outside and watching a crocus sway in the breeze. He used this moment of silence to think over the contents of the letter, to contemplate what he should do from here on out. First, there was the safety of this situation to consider. What if this was a trap and he was attacked and held hostage by this woman? Or worse, what if this all truly was some sort of prank and he fell victim to humiliation?

But (M/n) and (Y/n) gnawed at his mind, the possibility of the latter’s existence telling him to go discover the truth behind the mysterious letter; and in the end, the feeling in his gut won.

Rohan put on his jacket, adjusted his tie, and walked out to his car. Before taking off to the hotel, he looked over the letter one last time, his curiosity slowly consuming him with every passing second. He wanted to know what (M/n) looked like after ten long years; he wanted to know why the girl mentioned in the letter was in such poor condition.

And, most of all, he questioned if he really was the father of the little girl named (Y/n).

The introduction can be found here: https://www.tumblr.com/sundropdandelion/720403229648748544/love-like-you-rohan-kishibe-and-daughter-reader

#rohan kishibe #jojo's bizarre adventure #diamond is unbreakable #daughter reader #fanfiction

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