all-american :: jotaro x reader

chapter 1 :: all-american immigrant

I hate planes.

Okay. Hate's a strong word. I don't like planes. Mostly because whenever I step onto a plane it takes me somewhere I don't want to go. Right now I've been sitting in one for about 10 hours and, well, I can't feel my legs anymore.

"Mom." I stare at the lights above our seat, "How much longer?" She doesn't speak. It's not only until I look over to the side when I realize she's out cold, fast asleep on the wines the plane hands out for whatever reason. If the plane hands out wines, then they should hand out parachutes because I'd do anything to be jumping off this plane right now and landing back in California. They've already got life jackets, so why not?

I wouldn't have been on this plane had it not been for my idiot father. Thanks a bunch, dad. Let me tell you why (trust me, you'll love it):

Imagine this: American dude meets Japanese woman in a town kind of outside of Osaka. They get married. They have a kid (and you'll never guess who that is). American dude gets bored after 6 1/2 years in Japan and moves entire family back to America. They live in California for 11 years before Japanese woman figures out American dude is cheating on her. Japanese woman sells nearly everything and disappears with the kid back to Japan.

As you can tell, I might as well add, my mom is still feeling the impromptu divorce, which is why the flight attendants are ignoring us right now because they don't want to get sued for involuntarily alcohol poisoning a guest.

...So that's why I'm on this plane right now. I'm going back to that small town outside of Osaka and I really, really don't like it. I really wish the solution to this problem wasn't so much like an admittance to a witness protection program case, minus the name changing or the plastic surgery.

But that's how it is on this bitch of an earth, ain't it?
---
"(y/n), aren't the hills pretty?"

"I don't know. I can't see them."

We're in the Taxi right now coming back from the airport in Osaka. Even though I'm technically home, it really doesn't feel like it. Maybe it's because it's past midnight? Maybe it because I'm done with everyone's shit at this point? I don't know.

I can see the lights from the houses getting closer as we drive down this stretch of highway. The taxi driver has courteously tuned into some jazz station on the radio while we reflect on our life decisions. Paired with the orange streetlights and the fact that we're the only car out here at this time really makes me feel like I'm some sort of Oscar-winning movie.

Someone on the radio is giving the sickest saxophone solo, and I'd reflected so much that the dam inside my eyes finally breaks and I let out the ugliest sob and bury my hands in my face. Inner (y/n) is disappointed the driver could hear outer (y/n), but I really can't stop myself.

"What's wrong?" Asks my mom, putting a manicured hand onto my shoulder. I look up at her and manage an angry look, but the tears really subdue it. "Don't talk to me."

She shakes my elbow. "I can't help you if you don't tell me-"

"I WANNA GO HOME!"

The driver swerves and my mom suddenly grabs onto the handle above the seat, mutters an apology in Japanese to the poor taxi driver and gives me a death stare. "Do not tell at me, (your full name). You are almost 18 and still having tantrums like this?"

I grip at the leather on the seats and angrily wipe at the tears on my face. "Well, maybe if you didn't make me leave EVERYTHING and come to OH-SUCK-UH, I WOULDN'T BE UPSET!"

"(y/n), last warning, I WILL smack you in this car if it comes to it. You lived here for the first six years of your life and-"

"SPEAK ENGLISH!"

"SPEAK JAPANESE!"

The driver swerves again and this time, I mutter an apology. Making a mental note to give him a little extra at the end of the ride, I turn back to my mom and exhale what seems like a gallon of frustrated air. "I miss my friends. I miss the city. I miss my school. I miss my old life. Why couldn't we have just moved to another state?"

"And have your dad find us?" She gives me a look knowing that I can't disagree with that. I don't miss him either. I don't know how, he wasn't there collectively for a good half of my life.

Setting back into my seat, I sniffle one last time and rub my temples. "You're Damn good at convincing me that I can pick up life in another freaking country." I end the remark with a defeated sniffle. "If I wasn't a half hour away from Osaka I would have actually killed someone."

Even though we're sitting on opposite sides of the cab, she makes a great effort in leaning over and pulling me in for a kiss on the forehead. "Language."
---
I paid the taxi driver 100 yen as an apology for nearly having a screaming match in his car. Mom pitched in and gave him 10. I might have given him a little too much, because I only have 1,000 left for the next two weeks until Mom starts her job.

It's a small house, but that's alright. Our place in Cali wasn't that big either. Our new house seems much bigger on the inside.

I drag my suitcases to my room and dump them on the floor for lack of any strength left over in me. At this point, I have just enough energy to change and go to bed. It's kind of funny, actually, I tried bending over to take off my shoes at the door and nearly, nearly passed out.

Just as I've finished changing and unrolling my bed, my mom leans in the doorway. "So," She huffs exhaustedly, "thoughts on the House?" I can tell she's trying her hardest to avoid any English.

"I'm too tired to think right now," I respond with a yawn, "ask me tomorrow after I explore." Using the last of my willpower I turn my head dramatically and smile, I mutter "you won't know your house completely until you explore it." And she laughs at my remark.

"How about you?" I mutter once again, "are you doing alright?"

She nods yes more like she has to and not like she wants to. "It's better than America here." Mom breathes in, making sure to collect every last bit of new-house smell left (leaving none for me!) and exhales. "I still recognize this air." I laugh. "I'm glad."

She holds up a finger like she's thought of something, and exits the doorway, returning a few minutes later with her bed in her arms, turning off the lights as she walks in. After smoothing it out right next to mine, she gently tucks me in like she did when I was younger and we had just arrived from Japan. And now, as we had just arrived from America.

"Mom?"

"Yes, (y/n)?"

"I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier. I was frustrated."

"...It's Alright. I understand." Her hand takes mine. I can tell by the way she holds it she just wants me to know even though we've both climbed our share of mountains in the past few hours, everything is going to be alright.

Her gesture beats any one I could ever make right now and I don't know what else to say, so I quit talking altogether.

It's been a long night for the two of us. But the crickets came out and the wind blew softly against the bamboo shoots outside the house, calming the atmosphere.

For a few hours, I hadn't just left everything behind.

For a few hours, mom's broken heart mended itself.

For a few hours, everything was perfectly...fine.
---
A/N
How is your day going? Good, I hope.