"Are we rolling yet? This thing's eating my battery like crazy."
"Relax, Ren," Hina said, her voice trying to sound cool.
"Wait till we're inside. Suspense, remember? Gotta give 'em foreplay before the scare."
Ren made a face. "Don't say foreplay."
The van's inside smelled like old fries, pencil shavings, and burnt wires. An old GoPro was duct-taped to the dash, held together by hope and cheap adhesive. A cracked power bank dangled from its side like a hospital drip.
The four of them were crammed into the back, shoulder to shoulder, half covered in snack wrappers and school bags.
Ren sat in the front passenger seat with a beat-up Chromebook on his lap, muttering to himself as he adjusted the stream overlay. His red hoodie, too bright for any kind of stealth, was zipped all the way up — part costume, part comfort blanket.
He grinned into the webcam like a boy playing host to an invisible audience.
"Alright, misfits and goblin-watchers," he whispered dramatically, "we go dark in ten. If we disappear... tell our school we were legends."
From the back, Hina smacked his arm. "Shut up, dummy."
"I'm serious," Ren said, still grinning. "It's now or never. Viral or funeral."
Minato sat closest to the door, hoodie over his head, chewing absently on the drawstring. He was the youngest and didn't talk much, but everyone kind of just followed his lead without saying so.
He'd found the post—some half-dead thread on a Japanese horror forum about E. Line 7, a subway line sealed off years ago. No maps. No records. Just whispers. And one blurry screenshot before the original post vanished.
Yuto slurped the last of a soda he wasn't supposed to have. "What if we're just breaking into a sewer or whatever? If we get arrested, I'm blaming all of you."
Ren waved him off. "We find anything—old signs, creepy murals, bones—we win. Already got the tags boosted. Urban explorers. Ghost tunnel. Secret Japan. We're already getting views."
Hina peered at the screen. "It's not even Tokyo."
Ren winked. "Exactly why it's gold."
A soft ping rang out.
First viewer.Then two more.Then the chat blinked to life.
ratboy211: y'all better not die on mejunkiecookie: show the cursed stuff alreadyz3r0fade: 5 bucks says the red hoodie kid screams first
Yuto held up his phone and snorted. "The chat's roasting you."
Outside, the world was quiet. The van sat hidden behind a textile warehouse, in the kind of alley where even street cats wouldn't bother. One wall bore a rusted metal door with an ancient keypad and vines climbing around it like fingers. A streetlamp flickered halfheartedly, casting shadows that twitched when no one moved.
Ren turned in his seat. "Lights?"
"Check," Hina said, showing her cheap flashlight.
"Rope?"
"Why rope?" Yuto asked, suspicious.
"Feels right," Ren shrugged.
Minato spoke up, finally. "Because the ladder's broken."
They all stared at him.
"You've been down there already?" Ren asked.
"No."
"Then—how—"
Minato just looked at the door.
The lock opened after five minutes of clumsy effort. Ren used wires from a busted speaker and a keychain multitool. Most of it was luck. When the door finally groaned open, it let out a breath of warm, damp air that smelled like metal and wet dust.
A short stairwell led down, swallowed in black.
Ren clicked on his headlamp.
"Showtime."
g0shgirl: LET'S GOOOOO!gravediggersmile: record everything don't blink
The stairwell drank their footsteps. Every clink of metal echoed like someone whispering secrets into the walls. Old ceramic tiles, chipped and mossy, coated the walls and floor. Some bore faded company logos in colors long washed away.
The silence was weird.
Yuto swung his flashlight toward a stain on the wall. "Is that blood?"
"It's always paint," Ren replied, "until it isn't."
Hina kept glancing behind her, lips tight. "Where's the street noise? We're not that deep."
Minato walked ahead of them, flashlight low to the floor, like he was looking for cracks. Every now and then he stopped and tilted his head, like he heard something they didn't.
Ren checked the viewer count.
"Three hundred. Not bad."
dieinnightvision: is this ACTUALLY live??lost_archive: why is this giving me a migraineNoisymessiah: TURN AROUND. no fr. turn around.
They stopped in front of a steel door. Its paint was bubbled and peeling.
A faded warning read:
"E7 MAINTENANCE. STAFF ONLY. DO NOT ENTER.DO NOT REMAIN."
Yuto raised an eyebrow. "Weirdly specific."
Ren turned to Minato. "Your ghost story. Your door."
Minato said nothing.
He reached for the handle.
Then paused.
His eyes scanned the ceiling.
"...Hear that?"
They all froze.
There was something.
Not footsteps. More like... dragging. Or claws across tile.
Above?
Below?
It stopped.
Minato opened the door.