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mxliv-oftheendless · 1 year ago

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Alice in Borderland – Last Night in Soho AU

CW: murder, violence, abuse, horror, drugging, poisoning (It's an AU of a horror movie, guys)

(This came to me some time ago and I got so excited by the idea that I made a moodboard and short little snippet for it! The snippet is under the cut. Please read with discretion because it is an AU of a horror movie. But other than that, enjoy!)

“A police officer came by earlier. He asked about you, and about your well-being. A welfare check, he said.”

Arisu lowered his head as his elderly landlord spoke. He should’ve known this would happen—after how he’d been acting, someone was bound to call the police and ask them to check up on the insane graphic design major. He wondered who it was—Chishiya, or Usagi, or Karube and Chota… he wouldn’t have even put it past Niragi, after Arisu nearly stabbed his eye out in the library.

He tried to focus on the record playing in the background—he used to be able to depend on his mother’s records to bring comfort when not even his video games could. Now, though, he couldn’t help thinking about Takeru, the young man with so many dreams that had been exploited and murdered.

He’d been so sure that old man—Aguni, Karube called him—had been the one who did it, who took advantage of Takeru and used him, then killed him when Takeru tried to leave. But he’d been so, horribly wrong, and the innocent man paid the price. Maybe he really was going insane…

“It had me worried,” Danma-san continued. “He told me you’ve been saying a young man died up there in your room.”

Arisu glanced up. The old man’s face was strange. It was solemnly indulgent, like he was a schoolteacher and Arisu was a little elementary school boy he was scolding for pulling a girl’s pigtails. But why?

He tried to control the shaking hands that held his teacup and bent forward into the best bow he could manage. “I-I’m sorry, Danma-san,” he said meekly.

Apologizing didn’t seem like enough—not when Danma-san had been kind enough to rent him his room, put up with his video games and music, and look after him while he slowly unraveled. He wondered if Danma-san had known Takeru. Based on the man’s age now, he would’ve been the same age as Takeru in the 1960s. Maybe he could’ve asked Danma-san and avoided the entire mess he’d made of himself.

“Oh, it’s quite alright, Ryohei-kun.” Danma-san waved his apology away with his hand. “Really. It’s funny, because… you’re not entirely wrong.”

Arisu slowly lifted his head to stare at him in confusion, even as dread began to gnaw at him. What was he talking about…?

“Truth be told,” Danma-san went on, “I hadn’t thought about it that way before, until you brought it up. But I guess it’s true—a young man did die up there. The young me that came to Tokyo all those years ago.”

For a moment, Arisu could only stare dumbly at Danma-san, unable to believe what he’d just heard. The old man stared back at him, looking like he was patiently waiting for him to catch up.

Then Arisu studied his face. And suddenly, time seemed to rewind on Danma-san’s face. He slowly aged backwards—wrinkles disappeared, skin tightened and smoothed out, hair darkened and grew, until the face that stared back at him was…

“Takeru?” he whispered faintly.

How? How was this possible? He watched Takeru die…

But then he remembered what the old man, Aguni, said before he stormed out of the bar. “Why don't you ask Danma what happened to Takeru? He knows exactly what happened. He practically did it himself!”

“I had goals like you,” Danma-san kept speaking. “Dreams, like you. I wanted to be a performer on a big stage. I wanted to act.”

The faces of Takeru and Danma-san started phasing in and out, blending together before Arisu’s eyes. And it suddenly seemed like two voices were coming out of the man’s mouth; Danma-san’s and Takeru’s.

“Being a whore’s a little like being an actor, you could say.” The wry laugh grated on Arisu’s eardrums. “You have to pretend you’re somebody else—that it’s not really you there, being used so thoroughly by all those… animals. It was how I tried to forget them all, and all of their faces. I blanked them out, erased them. I had to, because then, it wasn’t so real.”

All Arisu could do was sit and listen in numb shock. Takeru was alive this whole time—he’d been in this house the whole time, indulging Arisu’s music tastes and reminding him that no visitors were allowed at night and letting him think he was dead. Arisu hadn’t even recognized him. But the eyes—the eyes were identical, the same shade of brown. Except what had formerly been lit up with sparks of enthusiasm and ambition were now bitter and dulled.

“So yes, Ryohei-kun. In a way, you’re right. Takeru did die in that room. He died in that room a hundred times. And then one night, the man who put me there—put me to work,” the word was spat out like something disgusting, “and stole my dreams…”

Visions suddenly flashed before Arisu’s eyes. It was the same scene he’d watched in the mirror, of Takeru struggling on the bed with the knife to his throat. But this time, when the knife was raised in the air and brought down… Takeru caught it. He wrapped his right hand around the blade and looked up. Then Arisu watched as the look of terror on his face slowly melted away to a look of unbridled rage. He yanked the knife out of the hand and stabbed it into the chest.

Danma-san turned his right hand over and rested it on his lap so his palm faced up, and idly ran his other hand over the two long scars there, a knife blade’s width apart. “Well…”

Arisu couldn’t tell what was reality—Danma-san in the living room looking down at his scarred palm with a look of barely-concealed satisfaction, or Takeru in the dark bedroom stabbing his captor over and over and over again, blood spurting all over him.

“I made sure he died.” Danma-san looked up at Arisu with the beginnings of a satisfied smirk on his face. “One hundred times.”

Arisu’s ears began to ring. His heart began to pound wildly with terror.

“And do you know something, Ryo-chan—can I call you Ryo-chan?”

Arisu quickly nodded his head, managing a terrified squeak of, “Y-Yes,”

Danma-san’s smirk became a full smile that looked absolutely terrifying. “It felt so good, Ryo-chan. It felt right.” His face suddenly melted away into Takeru’s, covered in blood and sharing an identical smile. “And then later, when all those assholes came knocking at my door, expecting me to lie back and take it as usual…”

The shrill sound of the doorbell rang painfully in Arisu’s ears, and the shadows of all the men—all the ghosts he’d seen in the library—passed before his eyes, headed for the stairs up to Takeru’s room.

“They made my life even more of a hell. So it was only right that I sent them there.”

Reality melted away again before Arisu’s eyes, replaced by the dark room lit up by red neon lights, illuminating Takeru and his knife as he murdered all the men. He stabbed them in the chests and slashed at their throats, getting his face and his once pristine, flashy clothes coated in even more blood. It was all Arisu could see, all he could feel, it staining his face like he’d been there himself, and all he could smell.

Then he watched as one by one, they were dragged away by Takeru, who ripped open the walls and floors of the house.

Arisu suddenly remembered what Danma-san said the day he moved in. “I hope you won’t mind the smell. I’ve never been able to get it to completely go away.”

He suddenly felt lightheaded and his stomach rolled, threatening to throw up the tea he just drank. He put the bodies in the walls and floors.

And he stayed rooted to the spot in his chair as Takeru did just that, roughly throwing and stuffing the bodies in the walls and floors, then boarding up and replacing the torn out wood and slotting the floorboards back in place.

“I’m sure you’ve seen the newspaper articles on them—you’re smart enough to do your research, Ryo-chan. Did you see they called them ‘missing persons’?” Danma-san gave a terrifying bark of a laugh. “It was actually funny after a while—everyone wondering and worrying about where they’d gone to, when I knew exactly where they’d been. I’ve always thought they were asking the wrong questions. They shouldn’t have wondered where they were, but who they were. But I knew exactly who they were. And I was doing everyone a damn favor.”

And then Takeru was there again, covered head to toe in blood. That look of ambition and determination was back, but it looked wrong—it was twisted, darker, like the determination of a trapped animal to escape its cage.

“I wasn’t going to be used anymore,” he spat at Arisu, gripping his knife. “I wasn’t going to let this fucking place break me.”

A tear slipped down Arisu’s cheek as he looked at Danma Takeru—the young man Arisu had seen as a kindred spirit, someone to admire… maybe even someone who could’ve been his friend. Why did this all have to happen to him? “I’m so sorry…”

Danma-san frowned softly, like he was comforting a little crying child. “Oh, Ryo-chan, why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault.”

“N-No, I… I understand.” He looked imploringly at him. “I know what you’ve been through.”

Something sharpened threateningly in Danma-san’s expression. “Oh, do you now?”

Arisu nodded, hoping he could somehow get the man to believe him. “I do, I—I saw it—”

“Did you?” Danma-san suddenly seemed incredibly dangerous. “And you think because you saw, you understand?”

Arisu wanted to break down in terrified crying. Another frightened tear rolled down his cheek. “I-I’m sorry, I d-didn’t mean to get you in trouble with the police—”

“Oh, don’t worry, Ryo-chan,” Danma-san chuckled, like it was all just one big joke. “The police think you’re insane. And it’s not like you’ll tell anyone.”

His heart pounded even harder in fear and he shook his swimming head wildly. “I-I won’t—I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” He couldn’t help a frightened hiccup. “Please don’t hurt me… I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

“No, no.” Danma-san shook his head. “I know you won’t tell anyone.”

What did he…

His head suddenly felt so heavy. His arms and legs felt weighed down, like his bones had been replaced by lead. Arisu’s eyes lowered, and fell on the teacup he still held in his hands. He looked at the tea, and suddenly remembered what Danma-san said when he handed him the cup.

“Drink up. It’s a special blend.”

His eyes widened in horror, and he made a noise of terror as the teacup slipped out of his hands and fell to the floor. A rushing sound began to fill his ears and his vision swam.

“Don’t worry, Ryo-chan,” he heard Danma-san, or was it Takeru, say as he swayed dangerously on the couch. “I’m not gonna stab you like I did the others. You’re too much of a sweet boy to deserve that. You’re just going to peacefully fall asleep. And everyone will think you just offed yourself—they were worried you were going to do that anyway.” Danma-san looked him over in almost mocking pity as he gripped the couch and made strangled noises as he tried to cough up what he drank. “You poor boy… they really were all very concerned about you. Especially that one with the bleached hair—Chishiya, I think? The one I threw out after you snuck him in on Halloween. He might’ve been the one that requested the welfare check, I think, but the policeman didn’t say. With how he carries himself like a prideful cat, I didn’t expect him to care so much about you.” He looked mockingly moved. “It’s almost romantic.”

Arisu could only whimper in fear as he fought off the urge to close his eyes. He felt like he was going to faint. His vision swam and dark spots appeared. He could feel his grip weakening on the couch cushion. His mind screamed at him to get up, to run, to call Chishiya or Usagi or anyone and get help… but he couldn’t move. His limbs felt too heavy.

“So.” Danma-san smacked his legs before getting up to cross the room and go behind him. “We’re just going to let you make yourself comfortable,” he said lightly, “and lie down. Come on now, Ryo-chan.”

Arisu weakly sobbed and tried to get away from the hand placed on his shoulder. He didn’t want to die… not like this…

“Hey now, shh,” Danma-san, or maybe it was Takeru, shushed. He patted his head and gently pulled him back by his shoulder. “It’s okay. Come on.” Arisu was forced to lie back against stacked pillows, too weak to fight back. “Just lie back… There we go.” He patted Arisu’s head again, stroking his hair. “That’s a good boy. You can just drift off to sleep, listening to that music you love so much.”

Arisu whimpered and looked up. Takeru’s youthful face looked back at him, smiling down at him around the blood splattered over his face. “No more excitement for you tonight, Ryo-chan,” he crooned.

As he looked up at the man he’d dreamed about and grown to care about, Arisu couldn’t keep himself from weakly crying. He didn’t want to die… Especially not at the hands of someone he’d admired for months. It felt like a betrayal, even though Takeru had only ever been a ghost haunting him, never really his friend. He’d always thought of Takeru and seen him as the lively, ambitious, and talented young man—the sort of man Arisu would’ve been overjoyed to have as a friend. Not like this, a jaded, embittered man who had to kill to survive and escape the people who took advantage of him. Had Arisu taken advantage of him too? Was that why he was killing him?

He supposed he was never going to find out.

The rushing in his ears grew louder, slowly drowning out everything, even the music playing from the record player in the corner. It all felt like he was hearing it from underwater. His vision swam even more. His eyes felt so heavy…

And then, through the rushing sound, Arisu heard the doorbell ring. It began to ring over and over, like someone was hurriedly pressing the button. He tried to focus on that, locking in on the sound and training his ears on it. The fog in his mind cleared somewhat, and the muffled sounds became clearer as the ringing doorbell switched to someone began to pound wildly on the door.

“Arisu?!” a voice shouted. “Are you in there?! ARISU!”

Hope weakly lifted its head in Arisu’s chest. Chishiya.

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