all-american :: jotaro x reader

piece three :: from the start

Her cheeks were still wet with tears when her mother pulled her along the sidewalk. Her yellow hat was falling off her head, revealing the disheveled ponytail her mother had fought to put in and the end of her little blue dress already had mud all over it, not to mention her pants or her froggy rain boots.

The air was still damp, reminiscent of a recent overnight rain, and her little nose was still wet as she let her mother drag her along. The sun poked from behind the clouds.

She began to fuss. "Mommy, I don't wanna-"

"I don't want to hear anything else," her mother said sternly, frighteningly, keeping her eyes ahead. She clearly remembered the morning ordeal that was refusal to go to school. "You will go to Kindergarten and you will like it."

The little girl sniffed yet again and frowned, making a mental note to throw a bigger tantrum once she returned home, and even worse - not return with anything to hang up in the living room.

The steel gates were just in view as they walked further ahead, the trees rustling along the wind over them.

"If I have to come and pick you up early, no dessert."

She wanted to scream, but she knew her ice cream was on the line. More so, her trip to her grandparent's house was on the line, where she was allowed to roam the display case and pick whatever.

They walked past the gates and her mother adjusted her hat so it returned to the position atop her head. In the distance, she could hear children screaming and playing.

Her mother walked her up to the door, talked with a tall woman in a navy blue apron, then knelt down to her height.

She placed her hands on both of her shoulders and lovingly kissed her forehead. "I'll see you soon," she said. She leaned in. "be nice." And in a flash, she was gone. Leaving her at the mercy of the woman with the blue apron.

The woman knelt down to her as her mother did. "Hello there," she smiled, "you can call me Miss Mizuki." She radiated a kind aura. "What can I call you?"

The little girl bowed as her mother had reminded her to do minutes before. "Hello Miss Mizuki, my name is y/n. Nice to meet you."

"Well, nice to meet you too, y/n," the woman said obviously surprised at her good manners, beginning to stand up. "Let's get you inside, okay?"

They walked inside and the girl was introduced to a cubby just for her. She sat down, stashed her hat in her cubby then proceeded to take off her shoes, only to realize that she couldn't.

"Can I help you?"

"I can do it by myself."

Miss Mizuki nodded understandingly as she watched the little girl yank her shoes off her feet after much strain. She then tangled herself in her backpack straps trying to get it off.

"Do you want help?"

"...Yes."

In a few minutes she was handed a name tag scribbled some shaky hiragana in a thick black marker with Mizuki's directions and was sent to play with the other children.

They intimidated her. Never had she seen anyone this rowdy and no one stopping them - all her life she'd been told to not scream indoors or throw things, and here they all were, their hands sticky with this morning's juice and their sniveling noses caked with unmentionable fluids.

She sat down on a lonely stool near the corner of the room. It had a seat shaped like a frog and was not only covered in stray finger paint, but was also sticky as well.