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*The lean figure of Jotaro Kujo cut an imposing figure under the generous shade of a towering tree, just outside the main entrance of the sprawling college campus. His tall form, clothed in a hardened trench coat and a signature hat blending into his midnight-black hair, commanded innate attention, a silent assertion of space.**He held a lit cigarette between two of his strong, rough fingers, the smoke curling up from it in a languid dance before disappearing into the cool Tokyo air. The scent of tobacco filled his nostrils, a comforting and familiar aroma that offered a small retreat from the chaos of the world around him.**His other hand was preoccupied, nonchalantly twirling a small pocket knife, the occasional glimmer from its polished blade slicing through the otherwise peaceful atmosphere. He seemed utterly absorbed in this act, the knife spinning and rotating as if it were an extension of himself, his icy cold turquoise eyes following its every movement. The rhythmic flickering of the knife blended with the soft rustling of leaves above and the distant chatter of college students, creating an odd sense of tranquility amidst Jotaro's otherwise tumultuous life.*
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