Chapter 1:

Excuse Me While I Touch the Sky Pt. 1

As the wagon stirred in its tracks, Akira was brought off his uncomfortable sleep by a sharp headache that lasted several seconds, making him remove the earpieces blaring with music from his ear and place a hand on his forehead in an attempt to sooth the pain. It didn't work.

He sighed as he looked at his surroundings, the train car packed with salaryman, high school students and all sorts of people chatting, sleeping or on their phones. To his right, a tall man rested his head against the window and seemed to be having a grand old nap, something that made Akira jealous: it had been weeks since he had had a proper night of sleep. The fear and the anxiety were to thank for that, and for the bags under his eyes and his general mood as well. It had been rough. He considered checking his phone for the tenth time that day, but decided it was pointless: he had deleted most of his social media accounts in anger, not wanting to be bombarded by accusations and moral lessons from former friends, colleagues, teachers and assholes in general. The unfairness of it all made him shake in fury, but he quickly subdued his feelings.

Keep quiet, keep your head down and don't cause trouble.

"Your heard about that mental shutdown thing? They said it's a curse or something!", some schoolgirl commented, loud enough so Akira could listen.

"Yeah, scary, if you believe in that stuff."

"You mean you don't?"

"Of course not! You just believe in this occult stuff too easy!"

They laughed at that, Akira quickly losing interest in the conversation. Rumours never did anyone any good.

After a while, the train began to stop, a robotic voice announcing its arrival at Shibuya station, Akira's destination. He hugged his pack and brought his legs together, trying to make space for the crowd that was now leaving the wagon and bumping into each other carelessly. Akira waited patiently, rising from his seat when he found an opportunity to squeeze himself out of the wagon. Before he could do that, some fat guy bumped into him, making him fall back to his seat once again with a thud and a groan. His glasses slipped from his head, bouncing on his lap, falling to the ground and being summarily squashed by some salaryman's foot before Akira could even try to grab it.

He sat there for long seconds, staring at the broken object on the ground, before picking it up and holding the fragments in front of him. He tightened his grips, nails and glass cutting the palms of his hands, his teeth gritted as he fought to keep himself calm. He did not actually needed the glasses: it was simply an idea he had, an accessory to make him look less menacing and more fragile as a way to dispel the rumors he knew were coming. And right now, the whole idea was about to go down, as Akira felt the sudden urge to scream, destroy, hurt and causa as much pain as possible to all those who turned their backs on him.

Fuck his parents. Fuck Souji. Fuck Takeda. Fuck Aiko. Fuck the unjust police. Fuck them.

Before Akira could release any of the anger that dwelled inside him, the man that slept on the seat next to him woke up with a loud yawn, distracting the boy.

"Crap", he moaned, cracking his neck a rubbing his eyes. "Shouldn't have slept on the bench, now i'm all stiff."

Akira blinked, turning his head sideways to look at the man who now stretched himself. He was tall, he could tell even when the man was sitting, and had handsome facial features complemented by a head of purple-ish hair, styled in a pompadour with sidecuts, a haircut quite popular nowadays, along with a single earring on his right lobe, which gave him something of a jovial look. Wearing purple social pants and a white shirt, the man exuded an aura of laidbackness, evident when he turned to Akira and nonchalantly started to talk with the boy:

"Hey kid, what time is it?"

Akira blinked again, his anger slowly fading out. For a second, he looked down at his hands: now bloody and hurting from the glass. The man followed his gaze and his eyes widened in surprise.

"What the… you okay, kid?", the man questioned, leaning on his direction to take a better look while the crowd still moved besides them.

Akira didn't answer, now thinking about how stupid he was to let his emotions do this to him. The pain started to increase, making him suck his breath and try to stop the drops of blood from falling on the wagon's floor. He turned to the man, nodding his head in dismissal.

"I-I'm good, thank you", he answered, not wanting to involve some stranger in his own affairs. "It was just an accident, I can take care of it myself."

"Yeah, not really", the man snorted. "You seemed really pissed back there. Better not cause trouble or anything like that, or I'll have to arrest ya."

Akira froze upon hearing his words, bad memories coming to the forefront of his mind as if in a flash.

"You're getting arrested, you little thug!", a voice screamed from his mind, making him shudder.

"Wow, I'm just kidding, relax!", the man waved his hands and smiled apologetically. "Just take care of yourself better, that's all. I don't think I even have the authority to arrest someone in Tokyo."

Akira just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, the man's attitude starting to get at his nerves. Unfortunately, there was no opportunity to squeeze himself through the crowd yet, so instead he satiated his curiosity.

"You a cop?", he asked, trying to sound natural. Okay, after that old lady passes, I jump off too. Ack, why was he thinking like an actual criminal?

"Detective, actually. Aaaand this is totally my stop, and I'm late", he added, to Akira's relief. The man stood up, smiling at the boy and pointed at his bleeding hands. "You should take care of that, man. Blood's supposed to stay inside, you kn-"

Suddenly, he raised his head to the left, an expression of surprise in his face. "Hey, is that Risette?"

Akira dumbly followed the direction he looked, seeing no sign of any idols or pop singer, just a regular crowd of people.

"See you around, kid", the man said with a laugh, already walking off before Akira could even turn and say goodbye. He sat there for a few seconds, thinking about the strange conversation he just had. Was every cop, er, detective like that? Back in his hometown, they all seemed the same: surly, serious and, most of all, a bunch of pricks. He sighed, standing up and readying himself to finally leave the train and make his way towards Sojiro Sakura's house, the place where he would life for the next year. But first, he should go to the bathroom and take a look at-

When he opened his hands to look at the damage, he blinked twice: there was not blood. Not cuts. Nothing. On his right palm laid an perfectly normal and intact pair of glasses, as if they were never broken at all. He stood there, his mouth agape, trying to understand what had just happened.

"What the…"

"The doors will close soon. Please vacate the wagon."

"...fuck", he cursed, picking up his pace and leaving the train. He could think about it later.

"I'm sure you realize that at any sign of misconduct, you will be expelled, correct?", questioned Principal Kobayakawa after finishing his explanation, adjusting his tie and keeping it from merging with his abnormally fat chin.

"Yes, of course", Akira simply replied, making Sojiro Sakura sigh besides him.

Finding his new guardian's house was simple enough, but Akira didn't expect the catch: he wouldn't be living in his house per se, but instead at his small, retro-decorated coffee shop just on the end of the street. The man, pushing his forties, was tall and lean, with some sort of suave ladies man aura to him, smoking a cigarette and leisurely watching the news when he first arrived at the place. His treatment of Akira was simple, though: don't try any funny stuff, keep your head down, and if anything was missing at the shop, he would be sent straight to juvie. Akira didn't expect less, but it still bothered him that he would be treated like that by basically everyone.

"So, basically, you tried to help some lady and got the short stick for it. That's what you get for prying in people's business", he had remarked. Akira couldn't help but agree, even if deep inside he considered that philosophy to be deeply disgusting. His own experience with it made sure of that.

"Geez, why did it have to be me…", another voice chimed in, this time coming from a woman standing beside the principal, fidgeting with her arm and looking completely uncomfortable. Sadayo Kawakami, he heard her being called.

She had a short stature, wearing an yellow blouse and a jeans skirt which she adjusted from time to time, adding to her awkwardness at being there. Her brown hair was in disarray, falling to the sides of her head in locks, while her dark eyes had bags under then, a sign of lack of sleep and stress. Akira could only wonder what was the cause.

She was cute, though. Wait, stop thinking that.

"Forgive me, Ms. Kawakami" , the principal adopted an apologetical tone, waving his hand. "All the other teachers had full classes, yours was the only one with vacant seats. Truly, we did not expect to receive a transfer by this point of the year", he added, shaking his head and clacking his tongue, as if in disbelief of such rudeness from Akira: how dare he be expelled and transferred to Shujin Academy?

The woman sighed, crossing her arms at the argument. "Wouldn't a male teacher be more appropriate? I'm not saying I'm not capable, but considering… y'know?"

Akira's criminal streak, murder rate, arson tendency or whatever was pinned on his back? Honestly, if his situation wasn't as dire as it was, he would feel flattered at how dangerous people thought he was.

Kobayakawa and Kawakami kept discussing the details about his transfer, making Akira and Sojiro wait for a couple of minutes just standing there. Sojiro, whose patience Akira found out was short, cleaned his throat and adjusted his hat.

"If you don't mind, may we wrap this up? I've got a Coffee Shop to run, after all", he spoke up, bringing their attention to him. "I'm sure you can pass the rest of the details to him tomorrow."

"Ah, of course, Sakura-san. You two may leave now", the Principal smiled, a view Akira was sure he didn't want to see ever again. "I trust you to keep this boy in line. If he falls out of it, the consequences for him will be disastrous."

"Tell me about it", Sojiro replied dismissively.

The Principal continued. "Kawakami-sensei will be guiding you tomorrow, so you better show up as early as you can", he explained, to which Kawakami rolled her eyes. "That will be all."

Sojiro simply waved his hand in a sloppy 'goodbye', before making his way out with Akira following him. They walked the corridors of the unsurprisingly large school building (it was Tokyo, after all), with Akira taking notice of the many glass showcases with trophies inside, most of them related to volleyball, track and gymnastics. He searched for any sign of baseball teams on the school, before the memory soured his mood. Not even his sport colleagues spared him back home.

"School never changes, eh?", Sojiro suddenly commented, scratching his goatee. "Never did like it, to be honest. Even so, anyone who gives up on it is a pushover to the country. You should remember that."

Akira nodded tiredly. He was more than aware of his situation, even more so with people reminding him every five seconds. Even so, up until this point, the older man had made little to no attempt to make small talk with him, simply grumbling or complaining about the whole situation. Akira decided to bite this opportunity to make things less antagonistic between them.

"Why didn't you like scholl?", he tried.

Sojiro snorted. "What a dumb question. Back then, school was way more strict. Nowadays, you can carry your phone around, dress how you want, basically do anything. You young ones have it easy", he explained, sounding even older than he actually was. "Besides, there were some incidents back in my time. My school almost got closed."

"What happened?"

Sojiro hummed, trying to remember some detail or another. "Some transfer student disappeared not a week after arriving. The school in uproar, parents taking their kids away and stuff like that", he explained, stepping down the stairs to the first floor. "There was a whole investigation going, but it lead to nothing. Never found out what happened."

Akira nodded, wondering if being a transfer student brought bad luck. "That sucks", he dumbly replied, making Sojiro sigh in annoyance.

"Why did I even tell you that? Come on, let's go already."

Exiting the school, they quickly made their way towards Sojiro's car, a vintage model which matched it's owner way too perfectly. They entered the vehicle, Sojiro turning on the engines and switching the radio on.

"No news on the cause of the sudden mental breakdowns that have been happening constantly this year. Authorities believe that…"

"Ugh, can't things be normal for a single day?", Sojiro grumbled under his breath, while Akira kept quietly looking through the window.

Up until now, it had all felt like some dream: something he would simply wake up and never think about again. He would have his friends back, he would keep living in his hometown, he would start to date Aiko and everything would be normal. But the reality of it all began to set in as soon as he met Sojiro and came to the school, being the recipient of distrust, prejudice and scrutiny. That day, he knew that his entire year would be filled with that feeling, that anger deep inside, that need to tell people that they were wrong, that he didn't do anything. That the true culprit was that man, that…

Monster.

Akira took a deep breath, the memory of that hallucination peeking through the corner of his mind. It wasn't real, he reminded himself. Nothing like that could exist, you were under stress. That's it.

"Hey, you okay?", asked Sojiro besides him. "I don't want you passing out in my car."

Akira simply nodded, his nerves calming down. He would never say anything about gold monsters to anyone. He would accept his fate and keep his head down, and maybe, maybe, if he was lucky, his record would be cleaned after his probation.

Nothing out of the ordinary will happen, he promised, returning to look through the window as the car left the school grounds. He took notice of a cat, a black and white cat roaming around the place near the school's gate, and wondered if the school had some sort of pet. Maybe he could help taking care of it, raise his reputation around and let people see he was just a normal kid studying at a normal school.

What was not normal was the tiny piece of metal shaped like an arrow the cat had curled on his tail, its grip tightened as if he was holding a precious item. Akira blinked and rubbed his eyes, as if they were playing tricks on him.

The cat then turned, looked at him, and sprinted off, disappearing on some bushes still carrying the object with its tail, leaving Akira with his mouth open in disbelief.

Akira decided he should seek help. Psychological help.

Josuke Higashikata had a complicated life.

To anyone around him, it was something far from obvious: he had settled down as a police officer after graduating, following the footsteps of his late grandfather, and after almost a decade in the force, had been promoted to detective. Such job in a quiet town like Morioh would certainly lead to a boring and uneventful life, far from the romantic notion of detectives from fiction. Other than a series of disappearances a few years back, the town was nothing more than a footnote on Japan's maps, a place hardly worth remembering.

And, as Josuke had known for almost two decades, anyone who said such things was completely wrong. Not only the town had the appearance of new strange people with bizarre abilities almost on a monthly basis, but the carefree detective was also the bastard son of one of the biggest moguls in the USA, amassing a fortune of billions and having close ties with the Speedwagon Foundation, another multinational conglomerate. Instead of enjoying a lofty life as an heir, he dedicated himself to a duty to his town and his friends, something he intended to uphold even to the point of refusing to receive his part of the inheritance of the late Joseph Joestar, same as his half-sister. A part of the money would instead be directed to the education of Shizuka Joestar in america, with the rest to be send to charity and other investments to the more discreet sectors of the Speedwagon Foundation. Life was far from simple for Josuke Higashikata, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

Except, of course, when his nephew called. At those moments, he wished for some well deserved peace.

Jotaro Kujo had put it bluntly: something strange is happening in Tokyo, something the public was calling 'mental shutdowns'. As none of them were dumb, the obvious answer was some sort of Stand ability of moderate to high level of danger, a matter that should be swiftly resolved if Jotaro was in the case. The man had spent decades dealing with Stand users all over the world (to the detriment of his relationship with his daughter, but that was another matter), so that would be a piece of cake, easy peasy.

"Actually, Josuke, I'm calling you for this exact reason. I want you to go", the man had said, and Josuke skipped a beat.

The fact was that Jotaro was dealing with some situation in Naples that would take a few months to resolve, so he instead turned to his most trusted and capable ally: his uncle. Josuke had thrown in a few arguments, ranging from lack of experience to a broken pinky toe, but ultimately, if Dr. Jotaro Kujo asked you to do something, you do it.

The thing that irked Josuke was the fact that some strings had needed to be pulled. His own record as a detective was impeccable, of course, but he was no bigshot or had any notoriety outside of a few prefectures. He couldn't simply jump to Tokyo unannounced, hop at the Prosecutor's Office and say 'okay, I'm in charge now': he had the help of the Foundation's contacts, the kind of help that his Joestar side had counted on for a century, if his old man was to be believed. In most occasions, Stand Incidents could be dealt quietly, with little to no involvement with the police, but this case had been on the news for months, so the Foundation couldn't simply solve it themselves: they had to involve the Investigation Team.

And so, Detective Josuke Higashikata stood in front of the SIU Director's office, dressed in his best dark suit, his best pants and polished shoes, and swallowed dry. As he rose the floors of the building, many officers and prosecutors had stared at him from a distance, noticing two things:

One, that the heir of the Joestar empire was here by pure nepotism and probably just wanted the glory of being a part of the mental shutdowns, one of the toughest cases to crack in the SIU history.

And two, that he was wearing a purple suit with golden details.

Okay, the second part he was used to, but the first one was something that kept nagging him over and over. He had refused the inheritance for a reason: he wanted to make big by his own merits, not because he was the son of someone important. As much as Joseph and Josuke had been close in the years between their first meeting and his eventual death, he would never take the place of his grandfather, who server with pride and honor as a cop, defending their hometown from danger and dying because of it. This time, he had to prove himself not only to Jotaro, but to the entire Investigation Unit.

"Hm. I wonder if Crazy Diamond would be considered cheating", he snickered mentally, before knocking on the door.

From the moment Josuke met Director Musashi, he took a disliking to the man.

"I'm sure you will feel very welcome here in Tokyo, Detective Higashikata", the old man spoke with a friendly tone, masking his own snob attitude. "Your addition to the investigation team came as a surprise, but your reputation precedes you. You were the one who conducted the investigation on the Sendai Murder cases, right?"

Josuke stood in front of his desk, hands on the side of his body in a formal pose, reminiscent of his street cop days. He cleared his throat. "Yes, sir, that would be me", he replied. While the case had been a challenge to investigate, with many false leads, in the end it had been simply a fight between two Stand User gangs, of which one had a user capable of melting enemies depending on the temperature of the room. Scary stuff, but a smart use of the thermostat had won him the fight in minutes.

"Indeed, quite the efficient investigation", the man lied. He didn't gave a shit about some small case in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Or, at least, that had been the description he had been given by the Foundation. He had been warned that in the SIU, you're on your own: everybody there wanted to step on each other's heads on the way to the top. "Don't you think, Niijima-san?"

"I've read the files. Some sloppy reports here and there, but overall an efficient job. Nothing to write home about", commented the woman, standing a few meters from him.

While he had previous knowledge about the Director, he had basically nothing on the current leader of the Mental Shutdown Investigation Team: Prosecutor Sae Niijima. The young, slender ashen haired woman had her arms crossed, analyzing Josuke with scrutiny in her brown eyes, like she was looking at some rat that was chewing on her shoes. Dressed in a form fitting grey suit, she seemed completely on her element, different from Josuke, who was still getting used to the formality and ways of the big city.

"Honestly, Detective Higashikata, I failed to see the reason you were even called here", she bluntly stated. "Is there… anything you could even add to the case?"

Ah, he knew what she was doing. A simple jab to undermine the concurrency.

"As a matter of fact, Niijima-san, I do", he adjusted his tie and his hair, preparing his discourse. "I've been involved in many investigations with elements such as the mental shutdown cases. These kinds of things are usually caused by problems not only on the perpetrators, but the society and community around them. Of course, Tokyo is a big city, but with the help of your professionals, we can narrow down the cause of these phenomenons to precision", he explained. "A single person in unpredictable, but a group of people? The complete opposite. Be it mental stress, some new drug or anything like that, I'm sure I'll be of immense help."

The director hummed and raised his brows, seemingly approvingly. "Yes, I see your point, Detective Higashikata. I found myself agreeing with your opinions. What do you think, Niijima-san?"

The woman placed a hand on her chin, analysing Josuke's perspective, but was unable to find any answer that would help her case. "Can't say I agree or disagree. I'll leave it to your discretion, Director."

Josuke smiled internally, mostly because his bullshit arguments were so convincing. He admittedly had excellent investigation skills, specially with the help of Crazy Diamond, but psychology was far from his field of study. Obviously, he couldn't tell the director that the weird ghost behind some weirdo somewhere in town was the cause of it all.

"Very well then! I'm sure Niijima-san will explain all the details to you, Detective Higashikata", the director rose from the seat while Niijima simply sighed. "Welcome to the investigation team, properly this time!"

Josuke swiftly bowed his head. "Please take care of me, sir", he politely replied. Of course, his transfer to the Team had already been approved, so he would be a part of it whether they wanted or not. But starting with the right food had saved his skin many times before, so he figured it couldn't hurt.

"Would you like to join in for a drink, then?", the Director asked, smiling disarmingly. "What about you, Niijima-san?"

"I'm busy, sorry. I have to look over some files from the case", the woman dryly replied. "And if Higashikata wishes to catch up, I suggest he follows me", she added, passing by Josuke while staring at him with cold eyes, her ashen hair flowing backwards as she almost bumped with his shoulder. Her expensive perfume almost made Josuke cough, but he avoided it by clearing his throat.

"Uh, well", he started, not sure how to follow that. "I think I'll be going now, sir."

"Of course, of course", he replied, and Josuke turned around and made his way to the door, following Sae.

"Ah, before I forget, Detective", he called as Josuke grabbed the handle of the door, making him turn his head. "We have a dressing code here. Please abide to it", said the Director, pointing at the many golden details and patterns on his suit, along with the continuous flux of 'JoJoJoJo' sewed on the corners of the cloth.

"Ah, of course sir, I apologize. I'll take care of that immediately!", he happily replied, smiling as if he was an intern on his first day of the job. He left the room, and closed the door, before scoffing.

"What a prick."

To be Continued =

A/N: And here I am, back to writing this, a fic I started and then this thing called 2020 fell in my head and knocked me unconscious. For now, have the introduction of a few characters and, well, our good boi (now a 33 year old detective by the point of this story). I'll have fun writing this, so I hope you'll have too.