A Ghostly Requiem | JJBA Part 5 GN!Reader Insert

Chapter 1: They Always Move On

A/N: It's past 4am and I'm too tired to proofread... I'll do it later. Word count: 3,541

WARNING: Violence, cursing, and minor gore descriptions

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'Just go on, just go on-'

You silently pleaded for the ghost to move on, anxiety slowly building up within you. Yet another one was too close to you for comfort.

'They'll move on... they'll move on just like the others. They always move on. Just breathe...'

  You drew in shaky breaths and exhaled each one as carefully as possible. You didn't want to draw the attention of all the patrons in the outdoor seating area, living or dead. This particular ghost was more gruesome than usual and was hanging around too close to your table for you to be at ease. The ghost looked like an old man and part of you felt sad, wondering what he had been through, but you couldn't blow your cover. Why this ghost had taken interest in you was beyond you, but as long as you pretended not to see him, he'd eventually move on. Perhaps you reminded him of a relative. Slowly, the ghost ambled away, muttering something incoherent. You held back a sigh of relief. This cafe was one less business you'd have to avoid because you managed not to make an embarrassing scene... at least for now.

  It was the same old routine. Encounter a ghost, don't acknowledge it, and wait for it to move away. There were so many mingling unseen among the living, it was impossible to avoid them completely. At first, you wanted to help every single one of them. Since you could see them, you were the only one that really could after all, so it felt like it was your duty. Even so, it terrified you. Every single mark, every single injury and wound left on them before they died remained on them, even in their slightly transparent, ghostly forms. 'Death marks' as you called them. Still, it was your burden to bear, and you grew up trying to help as many as you could, without realizing what would end up happening as a result.

  Word got around about your 'little gift' when you were younger and you were bombarded with the pleas of the dead, with requests for things to be done or words to be passed along to their families. You wanted to help them all, but all of the attention was too much. You couldn't go about your day without a ghost invading your privacy and demanding you help them immediately.

  When ghosts found out you could see them, the response wasn't always that pretty, especially if you couldn't help them pass on. Some would scream and shout horrible things, yelling in your face about all of the things they would do to you when you finally died for refusing to help. Even when you tried to explain why you wouldn't be able to, that it was something beyond what you were capable of, it would fall on deaf ears.

  You began to make ghosts swear to secrecy when you offered to help them, to not tell anyone else you could see them, and instead just direct you to other ghosts they believed you could help and let you approach them first. It helped, but it didn't work for very long, because people gossip as much when they are dead as they did while alive.

  Eventually you had enough, and you moved to Naples. You had to start over, even if it meant leaving everything behind, because you could no longer live like that. With luck, an old lady had given you a place to live with cheap rent. She was willing to overlook a lot of things and you found a small delivery job to get by. The place itself wasn't big and didn't have much at all, but it was home.

  Now you no longer let any ghosts know that you could see them, but you still helped where you could. You'd try and gather as much information as possible to help them pass along without them ever knowing. Since you moved to Naples, you noticed a lot of younger ghosts... along with the marks on their arms. You tried to help those kids pass on the most. It was hard, secretly learning about their regrets, hearing them call out to the loved ones they'd never see again, hear their sobs and wails. Though, over the past few months you noticed a decline in the number of new ghost kids appearing with the tell-tale signs of drug abuse, and that was one of the few things that brought you silent joy. It meant someone was out there keeping kids from dying and as a result keeping you from having to help ease their suffering, while knowing you couldn't stop them from dying in the first place.