"♪ Hanafubuki, sakase ya sakase, atarashiki haru no hi kitare ♪~"
In the main room, the Japanese-style songstress was giving her all—twirling and swaying with passion, her pink hair a vivid accent against the white, petal-embroidered jūnihitoe she wore. Her singing was deeply committed, and while her dancing still carried the rawness of inexperience, every gesture and expression was infused with genuine emotion. Red eyeshadow framed those soul-stirring crimson eyes as the smiling maiden wove one gorgeous melody after another—a vision of ephemeral beauty, entrancing all who beheld her.
Yasuho felt as though her very soul had been spirited away by the girl's every smile and glance, sinking hopelessly into the honeyed trap called Inori.
She sat on the bed, gazing in a daze at this oiran lady dancing for an audience of one. Even after the song ended and the dance stilled, Yasuho hadn't snapped out of it—still lost in the girl's face, painted in dramatic crimson.
"How was it? Did the recording turn out okay?"
Inori caught her breath and asked, a touch of anxiety in her voice.
"Oh... that was incredible, Inori-chan! I had no idea you could sing so beautifully!"
Yasuho blinked back to reality, only then noticing that the backing track had finished playing. Belatedly, she turned off the camera propped up beside her.
"Good genes. Can't help it~"
An objective fact, but Inori managed a reluctant smile all the same.
It came with the character. Inori's singing voice had always been a world-saving, wide-area weapon—one powerful enough to counteract the Apocalypse Virus's infection. The song she'd performed was one of EGOIST's rare Japanese-style dance numbers, "Sakase ya Sakase"—the ending theme from the Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress movie.
With the Kira Residence operation behind her and nothing pressing on the horizon, Inori had returned to her old trade. If nothing unexpected came up, she planned to debut as a singer in this world. At the very least, it was the easiest way to earn money. She couldn't keep relying on Jotaro to support her forever—self-sufficiency was essential.
"What about the dancing? I choreographed this one myself—it took ages to practice~!"
Her voice was flawless, and she knew it. What she really wanted feedback on was the dance.
Online culture hadn't fully taken off in this world yet, so a singer needed more than just a good voice—she also had to master the kind of stage presence that could command a sea of live audience members. As luck would have it, this song was itself a dance number, so Inori had splurged on the jūnihitoe and then spent ages practicing the choreography.
"Also perfect!"
"Huh... really?"
Inori was pleasantly surprised. But one look at Yasuho's flushed, dazed expression and it was obvious she hadn't actually evaluated any of the choreographic nuances—she'd just been ogling Inori's face and figure. Well, fair enough. That was a normal person's reaction, and Inori wasn't going to hold it against her.
"Of course!"
Yasuho nodded emphatically.
Every word was from the heart. A powerful Stand user with a kind personality, a voice this beautiful, and she could compose, write lyrics, and choreograph—all by herself? Multi-talented didn't begin to cover it. And on top of all that, she was gorgeous. How could such a miraculous girl even exist? Whoever married Inori-chan someday must've saved the entire world in a past life.
...No.
It was just a figure of speech, a way to describe this treasure of a girl, but even imagining her marrying some man someday made Yasuho's stomach churn with indignation. Someone like this shouldn't be anyone's accessory!
"Ahh, I'm beat. Let's call it a day. Must be getting close to dinnertime, right?"
After confirming the video file had saved properly, Inori plopped down on the sofa and let out a sigh of relief. She pulled two tissues from the box on the table to dab the fine sheen of sweat from her forehead, then tugged restlessly at her collar to let the trapped heat escape.
"I'm dying—this thing weighs at least ten kilos, and I was dancing in it the whole time!"
"Haha." Yasuho covered her mouth and laughed. Even this side of Inori-chan was unexpectedly adorable. "Then why'd you insist on wearing it to dance? It's just a test shoot—you didn't have to go that hard."
"Clothes are for wearing in front of people. Otherwise why don't I just go streaking every day?" Inori pouted, a little petulant. "I spent all that money getting it custom-made. I'm not about to use it as a curtain."
"Good point."
Yasuho conceded the logic with a nod.
"Took a full hour just to put it on..."
Inori puffed out her cheeks in an angry little huff.
That hour was with King Crimson's help, no less. Without it, she'd have gone out of her mind trying to wrangle the endless layers. She swore then and there that she'd never wear a kimono again. Never. The ordeal had been bad enough with the robe, but the wooden sandals had left her arches aching too.
Inori bit her lip and looked down. The geta cradled her snow-pale feet, five delicate toes curling shyly upward, each toenail carefully painted red—like five cherries perched atop a soft, sweet confection.
She was exhausted. She wanted out of this costume. But undressing would be no simpler than putting it on. More exhausting, if anything.
So she gave up thinking about it.
Ding-dong~ Ding-dong~
The sudden doorbell jolted Inori back to alertness. She tensed—who would be visiting at this hour? And with her looking like this... whatever. It wasn't some risqué costume. She was wearing it and that was that.
"I'll get it, Inori-chan."
Seeing her struggle to get up, Yasuho offered to answer the door.
"No, let me."
Yasuho wasn't particularly close with Jotaro and the others. Better not to create an awkward situation.
Inori clip-clopped to the door in her geta and peered through the peephole. The visitor was, predictably, Jotaro Kujo. Nobody else would have the nerve to show up unannounced.
"What's up, Jotaro-san?"
"...What's with that getup?" Jotaro's eyes widened slightly.
"Oh~ I was recording a dance video. Checking what needs improvement." Inori gave him a narrow-eyed smile. "Well? How does it look?"
"...Never mind that." Jotaro cleared his throat. He had no desire to weigh in on anything this troublesome, and explained his purpose with visible reluctance. "I have to go to S City to investigate a Stand user. Could you look after her for a couple of days?"
"Hm? Her?"
Inori blinked.
"My daughter... Jolyne."
From behind the man stepped a little girl.
She had rare dual-toned hair—the bangs and the back braid a pale yellowish-green, the rest blue-black—topped with two bun-like puffs that resembled Mickey Mouse ears.
This was the protagonist of JOJO Part 6: Stone Ocean—Jolyne Cujoh.
But right now she was just a little girl starved for a father's affection. She blinked her big, bright eyes with open curiosity at the pretty big sister in the doorway, but was too shy to speak. She could only duck her head and hide behind her father.
"Hold on... Jotaro-san, why is Jolyne-chan in Morioh?"
"To be honest, it's embarrassing." Jotaro sighed. "My wife and I had a bad fight. She sent Jolyne here... along with the old man's ship."
"Joseph-san is here too?"
Inori was mildly surprised.
Two weeks had passed since the discovery of Yoshikage Kira's body. Inori had been coasting through her days as an idle bystander—splitting time between the hotel and wandering around town. On Josuke's end, the main plot was progressing nicely. He'd defeated Keicho Nijimura not long ago, but the Arrow was still in Akira Otoishi's hands.
With Joseph's arrival, that meant Otoishi was already dealt with.
—Things are moving along pretty quickly.
"The old man's caused me no end of trouble... Luckily, Josuke's been taking care of him. That kid's turned out to be pretty reliable."
"Anyway—I'm counting on you, Inori. Among everyone I know, there's no one better suited for this."
Jotaro gently pushed Jolyne forward, presenting her solemnly to the girl in the jūnihitoe.