Love Like You: Rohan Kishibe and Daughter Reader

Lazarus Drug

A/N: I took sailing a few years ago now, but my knowledge on it is kinda rusty, so my apologies if there are a few inaccuracies. I also wanna apologize for how long this took. I had to finish my summer classes strongly, and honestly after working on two giant essays simultaneously, I didn't want to open another Google document for a week. I needed a break from the computer, and of course, my indecisive mind kept switching between ideas. I hope this delivers after the mini-hiatus, though! And it struck me that I've been working on the 'sleepover' chapters for eight months now. Wow. This is the last one in this arc, and as of now the longest one yet—like very, VEEEERY long! I was going to split it up into two chapters, but I honestly want to move onto the next arc and whatnot. I hope you enjoy it!

—SundropDandelion <3

"Now (Y/n), put your palms up towards the ceiling, and keep them there! Then I'll do this—" Jolyne clapped her downward hands onto (Y/n)'s upward ones— "then we grab each other and do this—" they spun each other around— "and we finish it off with a double fistbump! There! Now we have a special handshake for every time we see each other!"

On this relatively easygoing morning, Josephine watered the indoor plants, and Josuke sipped on a cappuccino while writing notes on the respiratory system for his upcoming exam. (He, however, had his headphones in, and for every bullet point he jotted, a minute of drumming to Prince with his pencils followed.) Arnold fertilized the potted succulents with kernels of kibble that grew soggy from the watered soil; and Jotaro finished his weekly paperwork by dotting the i's and crossing the t's.

"Jolyne, could you grab the life jackets and boots from the basement? We'll be leaving for our sailboat ride soon," Jotaro said, organizing his manila folders alphabetically.

Jolyne saluted her father and hopped down each individual step towards the basement. Joseph entered the living room last, hastily wishing (Y/n) and the others a good morning and resting Shizuka in her rocking bassinet. His worried, strained expression caught their attention: "Jotaro, Josephine? My apologies, I hope this isn't a bad time, but I could use your help with my hand. I can't even point my finger."

"Oh, Joseph, it's locked good," Josephine said, struggling to bend his wrist. "Let's take you to the garage; I don't think it's something a touch of oil or the twist of a wrench can't fix."

(Y/n) stealthed behind the adults and opened the mudroom door a crack, struck with the scent of gasoline she surprisingly found appealing. She spied on Jotaro sifting through his toolbox and Josephine slipping the glove off of Joseph's hand, unintentionally and unknowingly revealing his secret to another, satisfying her curiosity as to why a hand would need oil or a tool to be treated.

Jotaro latched the wrench's socket onto one of the bolts where Joseph's knuckles would be and gave it a good ol' twist. He scratched his head and said, "None of your screws are loose, so it may be an oil issue." Jotaro tested out his theory, to no avail, and inspected the metal hand closer with Josephine until her sharp eye spotted the issue.

"Aha, I betcha this is what's wrong!" A needle, of all things, was the key to solving the problem: Josephine dug out a grain of sand hiding in the socket connecting the lower and middle phalanges of his ring finger. "Try moving your hand now, Joseph."

(Y/n) heard mechanical whirs and clicks, sounds otherwise suppressed by his glove, before leaving the scene that bothered her due to the implication that Joseph had lost a piece of himself from the actions of another.

She touched her cotton bandage.

"I've got our life jackets and rain boots!" Jolyne shouted, closing the basement door with her foot. "Do we need anything else?"