Ch. 5
Go Your Own Way

NOVEMBER 24TH, 1988
15:40
QUEENS, NY

Today was no different than any other day at the J.F.K. International Airport. Businessmen were talking on their large, cellular phones as they hurried by, tourists were taking pictures and excitedly looking through maps of their destinations. The occasional family was trying to control their wild children. Yes, this was a typical type of day you'd expect to see here. And within this bustling airport, there was an air of excitement. For within the terminals housed inside were the figurative gateways to a new adventure.

But there was one person who did not feel the same sentiments. At least to that degree.

Joaquín Trejo was in this airport, waiting for his flight to Narita, Japan. He looked more than ready for his trip. His suitcase was already taken to be put on the plane when it arrived, leaving him with just his book bag filled with several belongings that wouldn't fit. He was dressed for the occasion, too. A tropical, button-up shirt under a black jacket, light jeans, and a new pair of black shoes. Around his neck was a locket inherited from his grandmother's will. In it was a picture of his father and Lupe.

It had been a few days since her untimely death. Lupe had everything set for her passing. Everything she had told him to do before her passing was done. A casket had been prepared for her, and she was buried beside her husband, who Joaquín never met but saw pictures of. Everything she owned that was worth selling was sold, leaving their apartment almost bare. Some of her belongings (such as her locket and her wedding rings) were kept by him. The money in her bank accounts was transferred over to his.

And every last "prized" ceramic cock she owned had been smashed to bits.

It was quite a harder process than he had anticipated. Half of the time, he had to stop what he was doing and cry. He didn't want to do any of what he was doing. He wanted his grandmother back, to have her cooking and hear her laughter again. But he knew he would never hear it again. Joaquín had to comply with her wishes if only to make sure she rests easily in the afterlife. All that he needed to know was written down in the letter she saved for him, which he read that night he passed.

Here is what it said:

Mi nieto cariño,

I don't know how long I have. Somehow, I feel as if today may be my last day. So I'm taking my chance to write this now before I go. I won't be here when you come back, but I hope this letter gets to you. And I hope you had a good day today, even if this might spoil it for you.

I hope you remember everything I needed to be done. My accounts emptied, everything sold, and my funeral. Bury me beside Abuelito, please. That's my only request. I called a friend a few days ago to buy a casket. Pay her when you see her at the funeral. And those gallos más feo need to be broken. Don't sell those, just break them. One last little payback against my mama.

When you finish with all of that, buy yourself that ticket to Narita in Japan. You know how I always speak about destiny? Well, it begins with your mother. Yes, I know she lives there. I have known, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you before now. I wanted you to have hope in your time of pain. Your family is not all gone. You have her. And a stepfather. Her last name is Kuujou now, so she shouldn't be hard to find. Go make amends and begin a relationship with her. It's not too late.

He wasn't at all upset with her for keeping this a secret. On the contrary, it did fill him with some hope. But thinking about those words, even now, made his stomach turn funnily. He had never imagined meeting up with his mother for a long time. Now that he was going to, he didn't know how exactly he would approach her. If she even knew he was coming, that is. He can't exactly go to a home he had no address to, nor could he just show up unannounced and say, "Hi mom, it's me, your bastard son, can you love me?"

Because that would be weird.

Let's see… There's nothing else to say, so I'll end my letter here. Take care of yourself. You are my everything. No te mueras. Te amo.

"Te amo también," muttered Joaquín, wiping a tear from his eye. She truly did have the best intentions at heart. And he would never forget her unconditional love. Looking out the window of the terminal towards the sky, he hoped that she had reunited with her husband and son in heaven. He could almost imagine her smiling ear to ear and waving down at him from the clouds. "I'll see you all again one day. I promise."

His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. "Hey, Jojo! There you are!"

His head shot back to see Della walking up to him. She was dressed in a green, plaid shirt and black pants, her hair done into that familiar bushy tail.

"Della," Joaquín exclaimed. "Wait, what are you doing here?" But he had a feeling about why. She had been there for the funeral, and she knew about his plans to leave.

She smiled and said, "I thought about it after the funeral, and I decided you're not going alone. I spoke with Adam and he decided to give me an early vacation. 'Take as much time as you need', he said. After everything I saw you go through, there was no way I'm gonna let you go on your own."

Joaquín was in shock. Is she really setting her work aside for me? "Why," he asked. "I mean, you don't have to do this, Della. I was told I have a-"

"Destiny, I know." Della sat beside him, still smiling. "But wouldn't it be better to start with someone by your side? Someone who's willing to help you along the way? Jojo, you're one of my closest friends. I don't wanna see you do this alone. And before you can tell me to turn back, I can't refund my ticket."

He didn't know what else to say. He was in total shock. Joaquín would never imagine someone would do something like this for him. He didn't even ask her to do this, it was all of her own free will. Am I really that important of a friend to her that she would want to come all the way with me to Japan? To meet my family? To... start a new life there? Joaquín felt his spirits lift a bit just thinking about it. He shook his head and chuckled before looking back at her.

"Thank you," he said, and he certainly meant it.

"No problem, Jojo. Say, can you help me with my Japanese? You told me you took classes on it, right?" Della rummaged through her bag and pulled out a small notebook. She flipped through a few pages and then said in broken Japanese, "Con itchy wa. Ore no namaey wa Dera Buroun. Ore wa guy jin. How was that?"

Throughout the whole thing, Joaquín tried not to laugh, snickering behind his hands. When he saw her frown, he reassuringly said, "It's not bad. But you need more practice. What you need to do is focus less on phrases and more on the words. Japanese is a complex language, just like Spanish. They have different meanings and different ways to be used in sentences. It's not an easy language. Here, let me see that book."

So for the next hour, Joaquín helped Della brush up on the foreign language. According to her, she had started practicing last night, and while he was impressed she knew a few phrases, the lack of an accent and the slight mispronunciations gave him a minor headache. It was as annoying as white people trying to speak Spanish; he was tired of hearing "grassy ass" from people he met. But he could forgive Della, considering she wasn't too bad. All during their practice, several people began filling their seats. A man who sat beside them, he noticed, looked familiar. All too familiar, at that.

It was the fortune-teller.

"We meet again," the man said in his deep, courteous voice. "How are you fairing, my friend?"

"My grandmother died," he said all too suddenly without realizing it. "I mean... yeah. She passed away that day you read my fortune."

The man bent his head down solemnly. "I am sorry. Ladayk tueazi"

"I'm sorry?"

"It means 'you have my condolences.'" He folded his hands patiently. "If you do not mind me asking, where are you bound for? Japan, correct? Tokyo?"

"Uh, yes. Both of us," said Joaquín as he motioned to Della.

"As am I. My partner and I have business there involving his family. I have been to Japan only once, but I have never met them before. How about you?"

"Well, my grandmother told me to go there and find my mom. Try to catch up and maybe reconcile. Thing is, she didn't tell me where to start looking. All I have to go by is her name, Holly Kuujou."

He could have sworn that, for a split second, the man's eyes widened at the mention of his own mother. But he shrugged it off, thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him. The man made no comment, instead saying, "I wish you luck on your search. I am certain you will find her." They both looked at the clock hanging on the wall. It was now 2:30 PM. Their flight wouldn't be here for another twenty minutes and won't be ready until several minutes afterward. "My partner will be here soon... Ah, that was fast. There he is now."

He pointed out to the entrance to the terminal. Joaquín and Della followed his finger and saw a tall, aged man in a trench coat. The man saw the fortune-teller and waved. Right out of nowhere, another, far younger man accidentally ran his suitcase into the elder, causing him to kneel and clutch his leg in pain. They were a few feet away, and even in the noise of the terminal, Joaquín could hear them,

"Aw man, I hit you," said the suitcase man, somewhat looking guilty. He was Japanese, he could tell. "You okay, ojisan? That was kinda embarrassing. You weren't really looking, so you're the one at fault there."

That was a rude thing to say, but the old man shrugged it off and gruffly reassured him, "No, it's okay. You're right. Anyone can make that mistake." He rose to his feet and straightened out his trench coat. He could barely see it, but he was certain that he saw a glint of something ominous in his eyes when he looked over the civilian.

"Hey, wait a minute. You're not Japanese, are you?" He was answered with a nod, to which he grunted, "Then that's a different story, isn't it?!" And all too quickly, with the agility reserved for someone much younger, he swung his leg right into the other's knee. Now it was the poor Japanese man on the floor and clutching his leg in pain. While Joaquín understood that he was angry about the whole ordeal, he felt it was wrong for him to retaliate so harshly just because of his race.

Without so much as a second thought, he stood up and began to approach him. He didn't notice Della had followed him until she got in his face, much to both his and the elder's surprise.

"What was that for, you old jerk," she almost yelled. "I saw the whole thing! What do you have against the Japanese?"

He grunted in annoyance and straightened his collar. "I don't like his kind," he replied. "Never had. The war pretty much cemented that. While I have respect for some Germans and Italians, the Japanese never had a welcome place in my heart. Especially since my daughter had to go all the way across the country to marry one."

He's British, thought Joaquín, having taken notice of his accent. Makes sense that he hates them. The Axis powers had taken control over most of Europe during World War II. But they made peace after that. There's no call for racial violence.

"And for that, you had to take your frustrations out on some helpless stranger", asked Joaquín, arms crossed and eyeing him suspiciously. "If you weren't as old as you are, I would have to teach you a lesson about respect."

"RESPECT," roared the old man. "What would you know about respect?! Look at you! You look like the most disrespectful thug in New York! I bet you're the kind of punk who trips up old ladies just for a laugh!"

"No way," Joaquín argued, his blazing blue eyes locked with his periwinkle that looked as if they had seen too much pain in one lifetime. "I'm the kind of guy who trips up other punks for tripping up old ladies just for a laugh. And I do it for free. What happens next after that is on them."

They stood glaring at each other. They were almost as tall as each other. Joaquín had looked him over for a second when he approached. He had short and light graying brown hair, which matched the short beard he sported. His aged and lined features still had the spark of some youth, which his eyes complemented. Under his turtleneck, he could make out the outline of muscles. If his eyes were any indication, this man had to have fought in the war.

He's no ordinary man. And Joaquín knew that. If I try fighting him, I'm only gonna get my ass kicked from here to the Bronx. Even with Preciosa by my side. It excited him, yes, but he was an old man. He knew better than to mess with the elderly. So Joaquín resigned himself to a shrug. "Well, whatever," he sighed as he turned back around and walked to his seat. "I don't have time for this. Just don't let me catch you picking on anyone else before I take my trip, you old geezer."

He wasn't meaning to be disrespectful with that comment, but it seemed to upset the old man. From behind him, he heard him shout, "Watch your mouth," which grew in volume as he approached. Joaquín turned around and saw the man ready to punch him. He moved quickly and blocked the punch with his hand, using his hamon to envelop his hand in static-like energy so he would get the message. It worked, but not the way he thought it would. The man simply stopped in his tracks, pale and aghast.

The hamon did nothing else to him.

The man slowly asked, "How do you know that technique," and he did not sound happy at all. "Answer me, kid! How the hell do you know about the hamon?"

"I was born with it," said Joaquín defensively. Then he registered the rest of what the old man said, and a feeling of confusion washed over him. "Wait, what? You know about the hamon too?"

"I've never taught anyone, and my mother stopped teaching after me! There's no way you should know about hamon!" He then punched again, And when he saw his fist, Joaquín briefly gasped. It was covered in sparks as well. A single thought blared in his head.

It's him! This guy's the hamon user from fifty years ago! Joseph Joestar!

He didn't have time to freak out. There was still a fist heading for his face. Joaquín quickly dodged it and countered, a blazing fist connecting with his jaw. All it did was make him stagger. Their eyes were locked together, both filled with equal parts anger and excitement. Then, as they backed away from one another, Joseph aimed his right hand at him and shouted, "Hermit Purple!"

All too suddenly, long, purple, thorn-covered vines shot out from his outstretched hand and wrapped around Joaquín. Della gasped in shock, and the fortune-teller stood up in concern. These vines weren't hurting him at all, but they did hold him tightly in place. Not for long, however, as Joaquín summoned Preciosa to forcefully tear off the vines. The old man was in a state of shock.

"You think your spirit's gonna hold me down," asked Joaquín smugly. "Who do you take me for, some wimp?"

"I knew it," said the fortune-teller. Turning to him, he noticed he looked just as shocked. "You have one too. A Stand."

"Stand? Wait a minute…" His eyes suddenly widened. "You have a spirit too?!

"Yes. And we call them Stands. They're the physical manifestation of the human soul. I've never seen one as clear as yours…"

Now Joaquín's head was spinning. As if fighting Joseph Joestar wasn't enough, now he finds out the man who read him his fortune days ago had one of these spirits all along. These so-called Stands... He looked wise enough to know quite a lot about them. As did this Joseph. It was as he thought this that he realized their fight had garnered unwanted attention. Some of the passersby had stopped to give them funny looks. "What the fuck are you all looking at," he yelled, causing them all to disperse.

As Preciosa faded back into him, he looked at Joseph and said, "Okay, let's put a stop to this, cause I'm pretty damn sure you don't want a fight. You want answers as much as I do. So first off, are you really Joseph Joestar?"

The old man's eyes widened in response. "Y-Yes, I am," he said as the broken vines retracted. "But how do you know my name?"

"I bumped into Mayor Smokey."

Joseph's face lit up immediately. "Smokey? He's an old friend of mine! I take it he saw you use hamon and mentioned how I could do it?"

"Yeah. I heard a few stories about some kid who had the same powers as me fifty years ago." Now he looked rather flustered. "I-I'm sorry I attacked you like that. Had I known, I wouldn't have done it."

"It's no problem." Joseph chuckled and stroked his beard. "I'm surprised to know that some people even remember that. But I'm still curious about you, kid. You said you were born with it?"

"Yeah. Just what exactly is it?"

Joseph moved past him and took his friend's seat. "Hamon. It's Japanese for 'ripple'. The art of using hamon is known as sendou, or 'the way of the hermit'. It's an ancient Eastern martial art that uses ripples generated the body through advanced breathing."

"Smokey told us you used it to fight vampires with it," said Della. "Was he right?"

"Yes, actually. All when I was eighteen. It's a long story, but if you're taking the same flight as I am, I could tell you a bit more about it."

"We are. Your partner said he was heading to Japan, too." He then looked at the fortune-teller and asked, "Sorry, but what's your name?"

"Mohamed Avdol," he answered.

"Thank you. Now that leads to my second question. Just what exactly are these Stands? I've met several people who could use them, but I've never heard anyone call them that before."

"As I have said, Stands represent the soul, the innate fighting spirit of a human being. They act as guardian spirits, each with their own different personalities, abilities, and strengths that reflect off of their own user. Most men are born with them, however, under circumstances I have yet to understand, some are not. Mr. Joestar here," he gestured to Joseph, "was not born with a Stand. His Hermit Purple manifested without warning just last year."

Last year was when Preciosa appeared. Just after Dad's funeral. He told him exactly that, and Mohamed's brow furrowed. "Strange. You're the second person who I've met who has experienced this. I assume you also fell ill before he was summoned?"

"Yeah. Sick to my stomach. I could barely fight. Then someone pissed me off and my Stand beat him up. Before then, I've never been able to see them."

"Most mysterious…" Mohamed took a seat beside Joseph, his brown eyes settling up at Joaquín. "Both you and Mr. Joestar have suffered the same phenomenon. Stands that have appeared late into adulthood with no signs whatsoever, a brief illness beforehand…" And then he flashed a bizarre smile. "Perhaps you both are more alike than you think."

"You're telling me. We both have Stands we weren't born with and we have the hamon. How much more alike can we get? Anyway, I'm pretty sure you can find a better answer than we could. Oh, before I forget, the name's Joaquín Trejo." He then pointed to Della. "And that's my buddy Della Brown."

Joseph looked at him funnily before asking, "Your last name is Trejo? Say, you wouldn't happen to be related to Carlos Trejo, would you?"

He froze. The noise in the terminal seemed to have been drowned out by his own shock. Joseph had just mentioned his father's name. He wasn't a famous man. He didn't make a name for himself. So how would he know that name? Swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, Joaquín steadied his voice and said, "Maybe… How do you know him?"

"Well, I remember he stole my wallet, once. Then he ended up becoming my daughter's boyfriend. They dated for a few years and eventually, they broke up. She ended up having a child with Carlos, but she gave it to him to raise instead. I never knew why."

His heart was thumping now. There's no way, he thought, his body shaking with nervous excitement. This isn't a coincidence, it can't be. Steeling his nerves and hoping that he would answer his next question the way he hoped, Joaquín asked "Was… Was her name H-Holly?"

Joseph's eyes widened. "How do you know that?"

"Because my mother's named Holly," he exclaimed. "That's why I'm going to Japan, to meet her!

"Wait… you're Holly's son?!"

"Yes!"

Joseph quickly stood up, eyes growing wider. "And Carlos is your father?"

"Yes!"

"Then that means…"

It was more than obvious what this spelled out. But they had to be sure that this wasn't just some elaborate prank devised by either of them. To help confirm this, Mohamed spoke up and said, "Mr. Joestar, he is. He has the same birthmark as you. I saw it with my own eyes."

The two men immediately clapped their cheeks and shouted in unison. "OH MY GOD!"

"You're my grandson," exclaimed Joseph.

"You're my abuelito," exclaimed Joaquín.

It was as if the fight had never happened. Both grandfather and grandson, meeting for the first time, laughed and hugged each other. He knew little about this man, and he felt Joseph knew just as much. But that was okay. Joaquín had a grandfather now, who was ruffling his hair as though they've always known each other. And that was all that mattered to him.

He cried once again, and this time, they were tears of happiness.

"Let me take a look at you," said Joseph, and he held him back at arm's length. He studied him briefly, as he did to him. "You look like me when I was younger. And my grandfather."

"Really," asked Joaquín. He looked up at his grandfather and he noticed, behind the wrinkles and facial hair, that he did have some resemblance to him. "Hey, I can see it! You're right!" He turned to Della and asked, "Hey, Della, do you think we look alike, too?"

She giggled and replied, "Just a tiny bit. Put him through a de-aging machine and then we'll talk."

"Yeah, yeah," Joaquín jokingly waved her off before turning back to his grandfather, his eyes wide and teary. "Man, this is… This is incredible… You're my grandfather… And here I was thinking I had no more family except for mom. I've been going through a bad time for the past few days. My grandmother just passed away, and-"

"Lupe passed away," Joseph gasped, the smile immediately wiped from his face. "I met her before. Such a sweet woman. I'm so sorry, Joaquín. What about Carlos? Is he still around?"

"Sadly, no. Like I said, I've got nobody except you and Mom. And I don't know if she would even accept me back into her life."

"Oh, chin up. Of course she will. She's a saint. That's why she's named Holly. And if for some reason she doesn't, you're more than welcome to come back and live with me and my wife Suzie."

It was almost too good to be true. Regardless of what happened, he had a family again. His heart simply swelled from the kindness his grandfather was showing, and they had just met! Before Joaquín could say anything else, a voice spoke over the intercom above them. "Now boarding Alitalia flight 285 gate 3. That's Alitalia flight 285 at gate 3."

"Come sit by me. We have a lot to catch up on before we get there." Joseph motioned for Mohamed to join him, who wordlessly did so. When the fortune-teller passed, he flashed Joaquín a warm smile.

"How come you didn't tell me before," asked Joaquín, who wasn't upset at him at all. "You knew he was my grandfather, so why wait until now?

Mohamed simply smiled before saying, "I wanted you both to formally meet each other first and figure it out. You are both intelligent men. Though I did not expect you both to fight one another."

"It's okay. If it makes things any better, I wanna fight him again. Without our Stands." The two men, along with Della, made their way into their plane. "Speaking of which, could you tell me more about them? Especially Della?"

The man looked at Della curiously, stroking his chin. She hesitantly spoke up. "It's w-weird, really. I can see them just fine, but I don't have one. I don't feel like I have a Stand; no powers or anything."

"It simply means that your Stand has not awakened yet," said Mohamed. "This is not unheard of. A Stand normally develops from the emotional stress brought on by a great upheaval in life. Sometimes, it takes much longer for others depending on their own spirit. Myself, I have had my Stand since birth, and it was through overcoming my own stress, as well as a crippling sickness, that I had attained my Stand. I believe yours will manifest soon enough. And hopefully during an appropriate time."

"And how will I know what powers it'll have?"

"You will have to wait and see. Now come. We do not want to lose our seats."

Before Joaquín could follow him, he was temporarily stopped by Della. He had expected her to ask things like, "Do you believe them?" Or, "Can we trust them?" But the smile on her face and her bright eyes hadn't a shred of doubt on them. She simply said to him, "I'm happy you have your other family back in your life. Even if it's a few decades late."

So am I, Della. So am I.

STAND TIME

STAND USER: JOAQUÍN TREJO (ホアキーン・トレホ)

STAND NAME: PRECIOSA (美しい (プレシオサ))

POWER: A, SPEED: A, RANGE: C, DURABILITY: A, PRECISION: A, POTENTIAL: C

ABILITY: Like the coquí frog he is based on, he can leap incredible heights (over 100 meters) and can cling to any surface. The slimy coating he has can be used in a variety of ways, but most effectively as a conductor for hamon. He has keen eyesight, allowing it to see great distances in even a microscopic manner, as well as keep up with any fast-moving objects. His hearing is also acute. The fast, hard-hitting punches he throws are best described as "a hurricane's downpour mixed with the worst hailstorm ever". His kicks are no exception, either, although he prefers using his fists more. In addition to all this, his reflexes are precise and fast enough to catch bullets between his fingers.