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When Jotaro hears about Josuke’s new job at the hospice, he pulls him aside. “Do you know what you’re doing?” he asks.
“I always know what I’m doing,” Josuke says, puffing his chest out.
“Those people are terminally ill. Don’t you think it’ll be suspicious if they suddenly recover?”
“Even if it’s suspicious,” says Josuke, “it’s better than them not recovering at all. I’ve gotta use my powers for the greater good.”
Jotaro shuts his eyes. “Do what you want. I don’t want to have to bail you out.”
“Relax. Nothing will happen except a few old people getting better mysteriously. It’ll be fine.”
When the first few elderly people Josuke is assigned to recover from their sicknesses, naturally they leave the hospice, and are replaced by different elders, who Josuke heals. They leave, and the pattern repeats.
And repeats.
And repeats.
Josuke volunteers at the hospital as well, healing people with illnesses not yet declared terminal. Those people go home and are replaced by others. And others. For years.
“I’m almost ready to go home,” says one resident of the hospice to another, just within Josuke’s earshot. Josuke starts paying attention, because he knows what that patient has is normally incurable.
“Aren’t you still sick?” the other resident asks.
“They’ve assigned me to every aide but Josuke so far, over there with the pompadour.” The resident gestures and Josuke tries to look like he’s not listening. “When people are assigned to Josuke, they go home right after that. He’s good luck.”
Crap.
“I told you it was suspicious,” says Jotaro. “It’s children and the elderly you have to watch for, they’re surprisingly observant. Are you going to stop?”
“I can’t,” says Josuke, head in his palms. “Even if they know it’s me, these are other people’s lives we’re talking about. There’s no way I can just stop.”
Jotaro sighs. “If you want to keep going, keep going. I’m not going to help you when you’re caught.”
“I know, I know.”
Josuke knows he’s in trouble when both the hospice and the hospital start getting a lot of patients transferred from elsewhere. At first it’s just the immediate surrounding area. That area grows larger, and larger, until it leaves the prefecture, and Josuke’s doomed from that point on.
He still doesn’t stop healing his patients.
“Are you going down to Morioh for an illness? You’re so young…”
Jolyne blinks at the older man. “No, I’ve got family there. Why would I go all the way to Japan to get a doctor? American health care stinks, but Canada is closer.”
The man says, “I have a second cousin who traveled to Morioh, and as soon as he stayed in the hospital there, he was healthy as can be. Everybody said he only had a year to live, but that was three years ago! Morioh’s special. Anyone who makes it there can be cured.”
“I’ll remember that, thanks.” Jolyne leans in to whisper in Hermes’s ear. “Stand user?”
Hermes whispers back. “Totally a Stand user. Probably an okay one though, since your dad’s been letting them work so long.”
“Uncle Josuke,” says Jolyne, only briefly glancing at F.F. who is guzzling several large cups of water at once. “If I’ve heard about your work all the way in Florida, you’re screwed. Morioh is a pilgrimage site now.”
Josuke groans. “Every time I think it can’t get worse…”
“Why don’t you just stop healing people?” she asks.
“I want to, but every time I hear somebody talk about their cancer or stuff like that - I can’t help myself. And if I heal that guy, I should heal this guy too, because that’s fair. Before I know it I’ve healed all the patients.” Josuke rubs his forehead. “What’ll people do after I’m gone?”
“Live natural lifespans with natural illnesses?” says Jolyne. “You’re doing a good thing, don’t get me wrong, but you’re taking it a little far.”
“She’s right,” says F.F. around their straws. “Nothing is supposed to live forever.”
“I know that. Everyone will forget about this in…”
Jolyne raises an eyebrow. “A few generations, and that’s if you’re lucky.”