For the time you had been in your advanced history class, you and Jotaro had never spoken once. Occasionally you would see him beating the hell out of someone else outside, or even just in the classrooms. But that was about all you knew about him. A strong, tall, stoic delinquent, who smelled faintly of cigarettes, who also just happened to be placed in your class. Maybe he was genuinely smart.

AUGUST 31, TOKYO, JAPAN. SEVENTH PERIOD ADV. HISTORY. 1989.

The bell had just dismissed you from your sixth period class, and now you were walking down the hall. From behind you emerged a 6"5 jotaro, who towered above you and your peers. Being larger, his walk was a bit quicker, and he made it to class before you. Once you had taken your seat, you looked up at the board to see that you were doing a group project, in pairs. Because you class usually wasn't the most responsible, your teacher would be selecting your partners. You felt a tinge of anxiety from even the idea of group work. And from your peripheral, you could see that Jotaro was pissed even under his stoic expression.

After your teacher had paired everyone together, only you and Jotaro remained. The teacher called both of your names, before returning to his desk. Jotaro approached you with an annoyed expression.

"Hey, look. I don't give two shits that this is group work. I don't have any plans to get all "buddy-buddy" with you, so work on the visuals and I'll do the written portion, got it, nerd?"

Jotaro said firmly as he took a seat beside you.