Jojo's Bizarre One Shots!*REQUESTS OPEN*

Caesar Zeppeli X male!Reader: My Dearest Friend

A/N: This was requested by @enjoy_yourself_18 The request was that the reader and Caesar learned hamon together from Lisa Lisa when they were children.

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Your knobby legs trembled as you stepped off the boat onto the small, gothic, island. A ratty back pack hung from your shoulders. It was kept together by only a few resilient threads. A tall woman stepped off of the boat behind you. She was muscular with porcelain skin and long dark hair. She towered over your emaciated form.

"Lets go boy," she said, strutting ahead of you, a scent of lavender washing over you as she passed.

You became horridly aware of your own stench. Your entire body was covered in a sheen of dirt and sweat. You hadn't bathed in weeks. Your clothes hung off your form like a burlap sack. They were ripe with odor and damp with grease.

You slowly followed the stunning lady as she walked. You kept your eyes glued to her heels, trying not to trip over the cobble stone path. She lead you into a castle and through winding halls until you reached a bath chamber. You slowly lifted your head as the woman turned on the water. The room was gorgeous. It was covered in mosaic tiles. The bathtub was polished white marble with a gold trimmed faucet.

"Strip," she commanded.

You silently did as she asked. She examined you with piercing eyes.

"I'll send someone up with food. I presume you know how to bathe?"

You nodded.

"Good."

She turned to leave.

"W-why," you stuttered out before pausing. She turned her head back to look at you. "Why am I here?"

"Because you have a gift. And I'm going to teach you how to use it."

She left. You hesitantly got into the bath tub. You sat for a few moments in the water, stunned at its warm embrace. Then you began to frantically scrub your skin and hair. You rubbed and rubbed and rubbed off the dirt, the sweat, the smell, and the remnants of the dumpster you had called home. You scrubbed your body with a soapy rag until your skin was pink and tender. You gave the same treatment to your scalp and scraggly mop of hair. By the time you had finished your brutal cleaning regime the water was ice cold and tinted a rancid brown.

You  carefully got out of the tub and noticed a towel and robe hanging on the back of the door. You pulled them down, dried your body, and put on the fabulously warm robe. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and paused. You could hardy recognize yourself.

You were an orphan. Your mother had died four years ago and you had never known your father. Instead of going to a hellish sweatshop or grim orphanage, you took to the streets at age seven. It was a hard life and you were no natural at surviving the harsh world of gangs, crime, and competition. You were soft, shy, and scared of nearly everything. But you survived off trash scraps and begging. You had been living in a dumpster for about a month now. The restaurant owner didn't oppose to it and he even brought you water and uneaten food. It was the best situation you had had in all your street rat years.

You had been sitting in your alley studying a dying flower. You had dearly wished you could help it, and to your amazement, it began to blossom once more. Not only that, dozens of other flowers sprung up in the desolate alley. You smiled happily as you watched the miracle. When you looked up, a woman wearing a scarf and sunglasses was staring down at you.

"Come with me," she said.

"Why?"

"Come."

You hadn't fought against her. And now, here you were. In a bathroom fit for a king in a castle on a strange island.