Bound by Blood; Chosen by Fate

Chapter One

*🧣*

Light drifted through the shade, the faint sounds of birdsong floating through the open window. I buried my head under the pillow with a groan, trying to block out the sound of people moving through the hallway.

My door flew open, slamming into the wall behind it with enough force to make me worry about dents.

"Oi, sh*thead. Get up."

He didn't wait to see if I'd respond to his unceremonious wake-up call, his footsteps moving further down the hall.

I burrowed deeper into the pillow, stubbornly ignoring them.

Just as my mind sank into that soft, fuzzy stage preceding sleep, something hard slammed into the back of my head.

I let out a startled yelp, rolling out of bed and falling onto the floor. The edge of a coat danced past my door frame, the black hue telling me exactly which brother had chucked something at me. Not that I needed that much to figure it out.

I rubbed the back of my head with a sour face, pulling my limbs from the piles of boxes on the floor. A few had caved from where I fell, the cardboard sunken into sad, deformed shapes.

A face peeked into my room, a smile flitting over his mouth.

"Good. Jotaro woke you up." Ignoring my grumbles, he added, "there's food on the table."

I perked up at the mention of food, stomach growling. Jonathan's cooking was ultimately superior to anything else.

Unfortunately, he'd been busy of late, dealing with... everything, and he'd been unable to cook for us.

I bundled past him and into the kitchen, setting upon the food with ravenous attention. I thanked any god out there for my brothers cooking as I devoured the breakfast.

It was a basic American breakfast- and for that I was thankful for. I knew he'd be getting experimental soon, with the new cultural foods that came with moving to another country, but I was getting homesick. Fast. Aching for the familiar bustle of New York. The food was a comfort, filling my empty stomach with warmth.

Eggs sat upon perfect toast- crispy and lightly browned, melted butter softening the center of the bread. It was buttered all the way to the edges- none of that pathetic half-as*ed stuff. The yolk burst in my mouth, coating my tongue in that creamy, soft taste. The egg was salted and peppered just right, the seasonings bursting in my mouth, and-

I groaned softly. Jonathan rolled his eyes as Jotaro stepped into the kitchen. He watched me with a sort of morbid fascination as I bit into the bacon. 

It was sinfully delicious, the fat melting on my tongue as I chewed on the meat- salt and the faint crispness of the caramelized areas perfectly balanced.

All of that was washed down with a cup of orange juice, the sweetness a perfect end to the breakfast I'd devoured moments before.

I brushed past my younger brother, flicking the brim of his hat with a soft sparkle of hamon as I walked into the hallway. A soft snarl emanated from him, though nothing else. He knew whatever beating he could give me wasn't worth the beating he would receive in return. He'd not bothered to learn hamon, and I doubt he had the skill even if Jonathan or I would take the time to teach it to him. Passing over the fact, of course, that he would be nearly impossible to teach. His face alone makes me want to punch him half the days. He hadn't developed a stand yet, either- leaving him the weakest of our family. Despite the fact that he was easily the most intimidating of us.