Chapter Text
“Alice,” someone called out, amidst the conversations filling the bar; a familiar voice Arisu had hoped he’d left behind in Borderland. But there Mira was, in casual attire, taking the seat next to him at the bar. “It’s good to see you again.”
Arisu would have just nodded and leave the conversation, but he was aching all over, from what had happened, from what he had lost. He would love to blame it on liquor, but he said nonetheless, “I’d rather not see you again, ever.”
Mira chuckled, delicate and light, ever so composed and elegant, just like in their last game. “I don’t mind you holding grudges, but nonetheless, I appreciate the chance to meet you again. There’s something I’d like to talk to you with.”
“Find someone else,” he replied, chugging his Moscow mule. The taste of ginger and citrus travelled to his nose, and he almost gagged. He kept it in, kept everything in because he didn’t know how to do it any better. Healthy and sane weren’t exactly the motto he was going with. “I’m not interested in your games anymore. And I’ve escaped, haven’t I? I don’t want to have it any other way.”
“But you’d like to have someone else who remembers just as much as you,” Mira pointed out; like usual, finding the weakest spot in Arisu’s heart and striking repeatedly, until he crumbled into nothing but heartache and loss. “I can give you that. We all do.”
Arisu swallowed. “We?”
“I know the system offered you to be the next Queen of Hearts, Alice,” the woman said softly, smiling at the bartender—who wasn’t Karube, would never be Karube and his flair in making drinks—and ordered some Cardassian Sunrise for herself. It made Arisu’s heart twinge; Karube had been fond of Star Trek and had begged his boss to let him put a drink with that name. Hearing Mira order that drink felt like a steel-tipped dart going straight to Arisu’s chest. “And I know that you wished for something different. Otherwise, I won’t be here.”
He scoffed. He could admit that he was weak, had always been. He should have thought with his head instead of his heart when he made the final decision at the Borderland. “Yeah, and what good did it do for me? Hounded by you and my nightmares. There’s no win-win solution, and I’m under no illusion that Borderland wouldn’t still take everything from me, even now that I’m away from that place.”
“Alice,” Mira said, achingly gentle. “We all survived because of you, and we’d like to repay the favor.”
Arisu sighed; biting his lip and pondering upon what Mira had said. In his last moment, the system had asked him three questions. One, if he wanted to stay or leave Borderland. Two, if he wanted to be the next Queen of Hearts. And lastly, what he wanted to do about the game makers who previously had decided to stay, and thus didn’t have any other choice regardless if they changed their minds. But Arisu, stupid Arisu and his heart on his sleeve, had remembered his conversation with Kyuma, what Chishiya said about Kuzuryu, and how Mira had let him win the game fair and square at the last moment. It wasn’t fair, for them, to be left behind to rot, so Arisu made the last decision and wish—that he wanted to come back, that he didn’t want to be the next Queen of Hearts, and that everyone, including the game-makers, dead or alive, could also make their final choice.
“You meant, the rest of the game-makers?” he asked, voice hoarse. This wasn’t a topic he liked to revisit.
“Some of us, who decided to leave, yes,” Mira nodded. Then, she softly pushed away the mule from his hand, and grasped his long fingers with her dainty ones. “Come to us,” she whispered amongst the noises in the bar. “I know that you think you alone remember about what had happened. But we do, too, and we know other people who do as well. We will take care of you, Alice.”
Arisu stiffened. Hopes reluctantly bloomed in his chest. It had been half a year since the meteor struck Shibuya crossing, and he had experienced yet another heartache when he found out that Karube and Chota didn’t survive, both in Borderland and this world, and that he might be the only one who remembered, who retained the memories, because there was no recognition in Usagi’s eyes when they met at the hospital. He had seen Kuina and Heiya; hell, he even saw Niragi, and none of them approached him or showed a sign that they shared the same history, too. He was truly alone, in this world. And now… now Mira came and told him that there were people he could confide in about his loneliness, and that they would take care of him, too? It was too good to be true, but God, did he want to hope.
“Who else, beside you?” he asked.
Mira answered readily, a pleased smile on her painted lips. “Kuzuryu, Lisa, Shirabi, and Kyuma. We live together, now, in an apartment not too far from here. Kyuma has been asking about you, too.”
That was a low blow. Amongst all the games he played, he remembered Kyuma the most—how they were similar, and how they could have been friends in real life, should they ever meet. To hear that Kyuma was alive, and remembered him… Arisu wanted so badly to believe, just so he could hold onto Kyuma’s large hand, be grounded by the man’s words and philosophy of life. Arisu wanted to see him, he realized, and he didn’t know whether it was because of their shared history, or the fact that Arisu had liked him enough to consider him a friend and someone admired, back at Borderland.
Mira’s smile widened, as if she heard his thoughts. “We can go there, now, if you want.”
Arisu mulled over it, taking back his drink and finishing it in three gulps. The liquor burned his throat, but it grounded him. He took a deep breath, and asked, “You said there are other people who remember, as well. Who are they?”
At that, Mira’s smile waned a little. “Only one person.”
Arisu frowned. “Who are they?” he echoed. “How come they remember, and everyone else don’t?”
Mira let out a small sigh. “Alice,” she started. “We were given a choice, too, when you won the game. If we wanted to stay or leave, and if we wanted to take protégés under our wings. The pool of choice consisted only of three survivors—those who were close at hand to the game-maker in their last moments. For me, Lisa, and Kyuma, it was you.”
Realization hit Arisu, but confusion speared its head as well. “Chishiya and Aguni, aren’t they? How does this thing work, properly?”
“We didn’t stay,” the woman answered. “So, obviously, the choice to make the survivors as our protégé is moot. But we still can take them under our wings, should they choose to remember who we are. Aguni had refused to remember.”
“It leaves Chishiya, then,” he whispered, didn’t know whether he should feel glad or not. It was… nice, having someone who actually remembered. But Chishiya and he weren’t even close to begin with, except for what had happened at the Beach, the game-maker room in the station, and the last moment before the King of Spades descended upon them. Arisu understood the way Chishiya think, his preferred method of survival, his strong mental fortitude in facing the games. But he didn’t know who Chishiya was, before Borderland. Just because the man had decided to retain his memories, didn’t mean that Arisu could go to him to alleviate his loneliness. Then, it only left the kings and queens who had decided to leave. It wasn’t… too bad. At least he got to meet Kyuma again.
He turned to look at Mira properly. “How come I didn’t get the choice to forget?” he asked, couldn’t deny that he sounded petulant and bitter about it.
“Because you were the winner, I think,” she said. “I don’t know for sure, but Borderland… was not a kind world. With every victory you gain, you lose something as well. You know that very well, don’t you?” Arisu swallowed with difficulty, and nodded without words. “You won the games. You’ve taken something from Borderland, and it takes something back from you: a life lived in bliss. It is within the same reason, why we also didn’t get a choice to forget.”
“So, it’s only us,” Arisu said, voice small.
“Yes, but there’s strength in number,” Mira offered, with the same grace she had back at the last game. “I am not particularly close to Chishiya, but you can ask Kuzuryu about him. In the meanwhile, it won’t hurt to come with me, right? Like I’ve said—we’ll take care of you, Arisu.”
“Take care of me, how?” he asked, even as his fingers trembled within Mira’s grasp. “How are you going to do that? Make me go through more games?” He sounded scathing, but he couldn’t help it. Just because they offered him comfort, didn’t mean he forgot what had happened, and the fact that Mira herself had designed the Seven of Hearts.
Mira’s eyes gentled, probably knowing what he thought. “We’ve been looking for you,” she admitted. “We found out from Chishiya that you had been discharged before we could find you. And then, Kuzuryu looked for your information and we know that you’ve enrolled in a university, as well as where you live and where you usually go to. We’ve been waiting for the chance to approach you.”
“What the hell,” he laughed, brittle and bitter. “That’s invasion of privacy, didn’t you know?”
“Alice,” she called out softly. “We are indebted to you, and we wanted to repay you for what you’ve done for us. We might have used a dubious way of knowing about your wellbeing and whereabout, but our intention stays true. We want to take care of you, in any way we can—including erasing away your fear and loneliness.”
“You are one of the reasons for that,” he said bluntly, not caring about politeness in the slightest. Karube and Chota’s death was still fresh on his mind, even now, and he didn’t know how to move on, how to heal properly. He didn’t think he wanted to. Even though it hurt, he wanted their memories to live forever in his mind, the good and the bad. Every single one of it, even though it felt like slicing at the edges of his heart each time he recalled the memories in his nightmares.
“Then, think of this as my way to atone,” she said solemnly. “You can hate on me and blame all you want, and it’s better to be angry at someone, a concrete existence, than just the world and the misfortune within.”
Arisu’s lips trembled, and he looked away as he said, “I won’t do that to you. I’m too tired, of the world, life, everything.”
“Let us be the place for you to run away to, then,” Mira said. “We will be with you, Alice.”
He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. But Hajime and his father didn’t understand why he had a lot of nightmares, why he screamed himself hoarse in bouts of panic attacks, why he kept drinking and burying himself with assignments of which due time wouldn’t be anytime soon. They didn’t understand why Arisu hoarded food and possible weapons, why he cried when he ate sometimes, why he didn’t touch his game consoles anymore. Why, there was always an empty look in his eyes.
They had chalked it to the shock of losing his friends, but it wasn’t just that. Arisu had lost who he was, the tentative willingness to live, the people he had come to know in the Borderland. He had lost everything, and now he was a lone ship in dark water, wishing for the hope of the lighthouse, only to find dead bodies at the top. There was nothing left for him in this world to cling onto, and now he was given a chance, a place to confide, people who might be willing to embrace him even in the harshest current.
At last, he heaved a deep breath, and looked at Mira from beneath his lashes. “Where is it? The apartment. Is it far?”
“Not at all,” she smiled, assured and satisfied. She turned to take the drink which had been served without Arisu realizing, taking two sips of it, and left bills underneath the glass. “Let’s go, Alice. We can just take a taxi there.”
He followed when Mira tugged at his hand, clenching tight until he was sure it’d hurt. But Mira didn’t let go, clenching back as if she couldn’t bear to leave him behind. He still wasn’t sure about this, but what else was there to do? Nothing was left for him, and he shouldn’t be blamed for taking this chance, should he? Had he not suffered enough, to be given a respite from the torment inside his mind? Had he not sacrificed enough that he felt like there was nothing left in his bones, to be made into a person he used to be?
Call him selfish. Call him weak. But he didn’t want to be alone, not anymore.
Mira kept holding onto his hand throughout the drive, into the fancy apartment building they arrived at, and until they stopped on a door. She punched in the code, and smiled at him when he hesitated, squeezing his hand gently in reassurance. When he finally stepped inside, it was to the sight of Lisa and Kyuma, thankfully with his pants on this time, fighting over some game they had on the TV, Shirabi’s back as he cooked, and Kuzuryu drowning in documents on the dining table.
They all paused in what they were doing once Arisu had shed off his shoes, following Mira further into the apartment. Lisa and Kyuma’s eyes were wide as they took him in. Shirabi turned once, nodded at Arisu, and continued with cutting some vegetables. Kuzuryu only smiled tightly at him, evidently still worried about whatever he was reading. Mira smiled at him when Arisu glanced at her, guiding him towards the living room where Lisa and Kyuma were.
“I found him,” Mira said coquettishly, a wide grin on her face.
Arisu felt awkward, being stared at like this. But then—then, Kyuma smiled so wide it hurt, and advanced on Arisu, pulling him into a tight, warm hug. Arisu felt like his chest was being constricted, a touch of unfamiliar warmth slithering around the cradle of his lungs. It had been a while since he was held close like this by anyone. The last time had been Usagi, but she wasn’t someone he could talk to and share secrets with anymore. Kyuma could be that person, however, and it was evident that his fondness of Arisu stayed even after Borderland.
It felt… safe, being within Kyuma’s arms, feeling the heat of his bared skin. Arisu gingerly lifted his arms, before he wrapped them around the older man, clinging tight no matter how embarrassed he was. Perhaps, Mira was right—he could have people who wanted to take care of him, who remembered, who shared the same horror and history. He could have this, no matter how selfish it seemed to be. He heaved a trembling breath, and felt tears gather in his eyes, falling onto Kyuma’s shoulder and seeping into the skin.
There were footsteps heard, and then someone was patting his back. Arisu looked up just enough to see that Lisa was staring at him intently, a satisfied smirk on her lips. She looked as confident and strong as she had been, and it brought a sense of relief within Arisu, no matter how strange it was. It just… it felt like he could be alright, surrounded by these people; wanted and protected. It was a luxury he thought he couldn’t afford, and now here he was, willing to be suffocated by Kyuma’s tight hug and the warmth from Lisa’s palm on his back.
“Sorry,” he said, voice thick with tears as Kyuma released him. “Uh… it’s… good—to see you guys again.”
“And here I thought we’d have to resort to stalking,” Lisa said, her laughter bright and loud.
“Haven’t you already?” Arisu asked.
Lisa laughed louder. “No, like, we were this close to asking Chishiya to stalk you at your Uni,” she said. “Apparently, you study at the same place. He looked ready to obliterate us to husk when we suggested the idea. He said, be weird on your own, don’t rope me into it. Even though he was the one monitoring you at the hospital! That hypocritical fucker.”
Arisu felt almost dizzy with the onslaught of questions overwhelming his mind. Chishiya and he were in the same university? How come he never crossed paths with the man? He worked at the hospital? He monitored Arisu? Mira did say that they found out about him being discharged because Chishiya told them. So, the man must have spent some time with them, enough for Lisa to talk about him that way.
In the end, however, all he said was, “I think Chishiya isn’t the person who likes being ordered around, even though it coincides with his own purpose.”
“You read him right,” Kuzuryu quipped in, eyes still on the papers he was holding. “He’s the type of person who does whatever he wants, within calculation and weighing whether he’d benefit from it or not. He’s not just a cold, heartless person, however. I believe that he has a heart big enough that he doesn’t know what to do with it.”
“I appreciate our longstanding habit of psychoanalyzing Chishiya,” Mira said, laughter in her voice. “But I think our guest for tonight doesn’t need to be bombarded with that yet, no matter how entertaining it is.”
Arisu offered a hesitant smile. It was just… so weird, watching the queens and kings like this, in an environment where they didn’t have to design games that would cause someone else’s demise. It was evident that Kuzuryu had thought of Chishiya as a protégé, even though they were in the real world; it was proven true by what he had said, and how he viewed Chishiya. It was also weird to have Lisa and Kyuma fighting over who got to sit on the couch with Arisu, who had been led to the living room. Mira had taken the armchair next to the couch, and was sitting primly on it as she watched the chaos unfold. Even weirder still, was how Shirabi was wearing an apron as he continued cooking, unperturbed by the noises in the living room.
At the end of it, Arisu was halfway sitting on Kyuma’s lap, with how Lisa had insisted on sitting on the same, small couch. They were holding onto his hands throughout the banter, and it should feel weird. But a part of Arisu, the one who was so touch-starved even before Borderland, bloomed within the warmth he was given. It wasn’t every day that he got to satisfy this part of himself, and the idea of staying with them, being showered by their love and understanding, was more appealing by the second. Perhaps, their method of finding him was dubious, but he had liked the result, hadn’t he?
He could have this, no matter how dangerous it could be. What else could he lose? He had nothing left for himself anyway. What was one more stupid decision?
“Can I…” he tried out his voice, still small and full of disbelief, of what was happening, of what he had decided. “Can I sleep here tonight? I can just sleep on the couch.”
“What do you mean?” Kyuma asked, looking at him as if he had grown an extra head. “You can sleep with me. My bed is big enough.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Arisu said, shy all of the sudden.
“Yeah, Ginji, don’t make him uncomfortable,” Lisa added in with a mischievous smirk on her lips. “Alice can sleep with me, instead. You’ve hogged all of his attention back at Borderland; it’s my turn. I never did get the chance to talk to him. That girl was always in the way.”
At that, Arisu’s frown appeared. “Usagi was just trying to protect me.”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “I never said she wasn’t,” she said. “I was just upset that I literally almost got everyone, and died by the end of it, and I never even traded more than four words with you! I’m hurt, you know? Now, talk to me.”
Arisu’s let out a breath that sounded like relief. Lisa didn’t seem malicious in what she had said; she was just so confident and a little careless with her honesty. “I don’t know what to talk about with you.”
“How about a workout regimen, Alice?” Lisa said, her voice a lilt of teasing. “I think you’d need that. Even though you got by just fine with your mind, this isn’t the Borderland anymore, is it? You’d need some exercise. Your arms felt like noodles.”
Arisu flushed red. He never went to gym, before and after Borderland. Karube had tried, but it was doomed to a futile end, because Arisu was too busy shooting something on the screen. He nodded hesitantly, and said, “We can do that, yeah.”
“Cool,” Kyuma dropped in. “And then I can teach you how to play a guitar. She can’t be monopolizing your attention all the time. I need some, too.”
It was… overwhelming, with them around. Mira quipped in by saying that she’d like to have tea with him, and that he had to be careful if Kuzuryu approached him, because all he could afford to give were cigarettes and serious talks. Arisu had tried smoking, about two weeks since his discharge. He had visited Karube’s apartment to inform the landlord of his unfortunate demise, and took with him some shirts and those brightly-patterned button-ups, as well as a lighter and a photo album, full of Arisu, Karube and Chota together. He had tried visiting Chota’s place for the same reason, taking things that reminded him of them, but his mother was there, and Arisu didn’t want to deal with her.
He had remembered the smoke wafting off of Karube’s lips, lingering around Chota and him as they chattered away about anything and everything. He wanted to have the same sense of familiarity and comfort, so he bought a pack of cigarettes, Karube’s go-to brand, and choked on the smoke as he cried both from the irritation in his eyes and the memory of the three of them, spending time without a care in the world. He had gotten better at it, now that he smoked more often. His father didn’t approve of it, and Arisu had stone-walled himself when Hajime asked why he started smoking. This was something personal, something he wanted to keep to himself.
But… it wouldn’t be so bad, having a cigarette buddy, even though he’d probably be lectured by Kuzuryu. He could take that. Having someone to talk to, who understood what he had gone through, was better than the silence of his room or the aggravating noises of the bars.
As Kyuma and Lisa talked about going at it on the game, to decide whom Arisu would be sleeping with, he shot Hajime a text, saying that he wouldn’t be back tonight, and that he’d be sleeping at a friend’s place. He got a reply of friend? Which one? and didn’t answer to that. He didn’t need to explain himself, and he didn’t know how to tell Hajime about his history with the kings and queens. It wasn’t something he was ready to divulge to someone else, someone who didn’t know.
There was a large palm holding the side of his head, pulling him to lean against a broad shoulder. He followed without much resistance, and closed his eyes as the scent of lavender and mint wafted from Kyuma. He had never thought the man would choose this kind of perfume, given that he had always smelled like musk and sweat, especially because he had been buck-naked for the entirety of the game, bared for the world to see. But it was comforting, the scent, and Arisu listened with half an ear, starting to feel sleepy, as Mira decided that they’d take turn—first Kyuma, and then Lisa, Mira, and Kuzuryu and Shirabi, if they were willing.
Arisu himself didn’t seem to have a choice in the situation, and he wondered if he could get close to Shirabi, after what had happened in his game, but it was just—it felt nice, being wanted and taken care of like this. He had ended up sitting fully in Kyuma’s lap, leaning his head on the crook of shoulder and neck, as Kyuma wrapped his arms around him, so he wouldn’t fall. His feet were in Lisa’s lap, wrapped within her callused hands. Mira was talking about someone from work—apparently, she left her old one and started anew as a secretary—and Kuzuryu was finally finished with the documents, taking another armchair as he added his thoughts into the conversation.
By the end of it, Arisu was already asleep, then awoken long enough when he felt himself being lifted by strong arms. The scent wasn’t that of Kyuma’s however, something stronger on the nose, and he felt the same callused hands wrapped around him. Must be Lisa, then. It felt a little embarrassing, being carried like a child, but he was too sleepy from that and he marveled at Lisa’s show of strength. He was laid down on a plush bed, then someone lay next to him, pulling him close into yet another embrace. He felt the heat of skin, and knew that it was Kyuma.
He curled into the hold closer without realizing, wanting to feel more of the warmth. There was someone else running their fingers through his hair, a hand softer than Lisa’s. He thought it might be Mira, but he could be wrong. He didn’t open his eyes, struggling to even stay awake, and let himself succumb into slumber as he heard someone whisper go to sleep, Alice. We’ll keep you safe.
He didn’t know whether it was the truth or just some pretty lies. But he felt safe within Kyuma’s arms, and he didn’t want to worry about anything, at least for a while. He curled his fingers in front of his chest, and slept.