The "Demon"

Tokyo, 1988

"What did you just say punk?"

"I said: "Stay away if you know what's best for you". I shouldn't have to repeat myself." He growled.

"What makes you so high and mighty?"

"I could ask you the same thing, asshole."

"That's it!" The other teenaged punk yelled and charged Jotaro. He didn't like confrontation but wasn't afraid to break a nose.

Usually, Jotaro could hold his own in a fight and make quick work of his opponents, but, this time, the offense was a team of seven other students against the one of him. He wasn't going to escape this one unscathed...

The head punk swung at his face, whiffing past his ear as Jotaro ducked—he stood at least an extra three inches above his challenger, but was incredibly nimble for his size. As he dodged, he threw a fist into the teen's ribs, forcing an audible grunt from him as he stumbled. A second punk yelled and threw himself onto Jotaro's back before he could turn around, he lost balance and tripped forward as the guy on his back punched his cheek and ear, the back of his piercing stabbing his skin and starting a trickle of blood down neck. He caught himself on his hands and knees only for the leader to kick his jaw, his teeth painfully cracking together as the momentum threw him to the side. The taste of blood filled his mouth as he spat. Fuck that hurt.

"The great Jotaro Kujo can't even make it through one round." The head punk sneered. "What a wimp for such a big guy." Now Jotaro was pissed.

"I haven't even started yet." He growled as he pushed himself up, the pain in his face and mouth along with the taunting sparking an inferno of anger in his chest.

He leapt to his feet and punched the closest guy in the mouth, sending him flying to the ground, whipped around, and threw a hook into the next asshole's ear as he charged. He stumbled, shook his head, and bellowed as he came running back with a cocked fist aimed for Jotaro's chest. A Spartan kick to the stomach put him down before he could reach Jotaro. Then a blunt, stinging pain resonated from his side as he was jumped by three guys now, punches connecting with his ribs and face. Jotaro guarded his face with his arms as the remaining two joined in, slowly forcing him to his knees.

This fight was so stupid. It was basically a pissing contest for these assholes with all of the other resident delinquents at school who'd challenged and lost to him. This would've been no different if there weren't so many attacking at once. He curled into a ball around his knees as the anger and embarrassment of the losing situation continued to build in his chest, seeming to gain more and more heat like a volcano that was about to explode. He'd never felt this kind of power before...

~ ~ ~

'Wh... What?' He felt pain. Things hurt, but why? What was this bad feeling he felt all over? He opened his seers, a sudden and sharp pain shooting through... Through...

'Head... See... Seers? No... Eyes...?' How did he know these things? He opened them again, he was down. Not up, but his head was on a hard thing, the rest of him on the hardness too, he could feel that as well. Where was he? It was mostly dark—not much for his eyes to see, but a thing was in front of him, strange shapes moving on the other side. They weren't clear—fuzzy and murky because of the thing in front of him, but sound was coming from it, just as fuzzy as the moving shapes. In fact, it seemed like that's where this bad, hurting feeling came from. But why? He moved, going upwards as two things pushed him up.

'Arms... Hands...' They were big. He was up now and rubbed his eyes, the pain in his head still there. 'Legs... Feet.' He saw them out in front of him; they were bigger than his arms. 'What are those things on my feet?' He wiggled his toes. Then a sharp pain hit his jaw and knocked him back.