Persona: Shibuya Stories

"You're not looking very good today."

Shikenjaya, Takemi Internal Medicine Clinic.

The lazy female doctor stated Jin's condition in an emotionless tone.

His mental state wasn't just bad—it was on the verge of collapse.

No one walks out of a prison unscathed.

"Oh, no matter how many times I see it, I still think Doctor Takemi is so… curious and wonderful…"

Kasumi, now back in her ghostly form, let out a dramatic sigh.

Jin, still drained, responded softly, "Well, her name is Takemiya, after all…"

Takemi Internal Medicine Clinic was a small community hospital tucked away in Shikenjaya. But unlike most clinics, this one had a doctor who looked nothing like a doctor.

Dr. Takemi was a woman.

That, in itself, wasn't unusual—female doctors were common.

But a doctor who dressed like the lead singer of a heavy metal band? Now that was something else.

It was like walking into a maid café expecting cute, frilly-dressed girls, only to find a muscular, bearded man in full maid attire. No rule said maids had to be women, but you'd still do a double take.

The only thing remotely "doctor-like" about Dr. Takemi was her white coat. Everything else screamed rock star.

She had a dark blue bob, a touch of smoky makeup at the corners of her eyes, and a leather collar with metal rivets around her neck. A short black dress, cinched with a red rivet belt, exposed her long, pale legs. At the end of them were a pair of black lace-up high heels—the contrast between dark leather and fair skin making her stand out even more.

And during her breaks? She swapped the lab coat for a leather jacket. If you saw her anywhere but the clinic, you'd think she was a famous underground musician.

As for how Jin got involved with her? It was a matter of survival.

Jin needed money. Takemi needed a drug tester.

One day, Jin came in sick but couldn't afford the medicine. Takemi, unfazed, offered him a deal—test her experimental drugs to cover the cost. And just like that, they had an understanding.

Finding the right drug testers wasn't easy. It was like a girl filling her wardrobe with clothes but never finding the perfect outfit. There were plenty of willing test subjects, but every drug needed a specific type of person.

For example, you couldn't test children's cold medicine on adults—it wouldn't yield useful results. Similarly, if you were developing medicine for smokers, you needed actual smokers.

Takemi needed young test subjects. The younger, the better. If it weren't for legal restrictions, she'd probably recruit kids as young as eight or nine since the medicine she was developing was for children.

Her office had no resemblance to a doctor's clinic. It looked more like a mad scientist's lab. A computer sat in the middle of a cluttered desk, surrounded by glass vials filled with unidentifiable substances. Medicine cabinets lined the walls, and documents were scattered within easy reach.

Takemi lounged in her swivel chair, legs crossed, absentmindedly spinning a clipboard in her fingers.

"So, what did you do today?"

She pinched Jin's arm absentmindedly, noting that his physical health was fine. But his bloodshot eyes, pale lips, and exhausted demeanor told a different story—his stress levels were through the roof.

Something was definitely wrong.

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

"How do you know if you don't tell me?"

Without looking up, Takemi jotted down notes on his medical record.

"I went to a castle today. Got beaten with shields by a bunch of knights and thrown into prison."

"That's… not an easy day."

She responded lazily.

Did she believe him? Not in the slightest.

Why would she? To her, this was just another case of a kid pulling too many all-nighters playing video games.

Judging by his state, he had probably been up for several nights in a row.

"Doctor's orders: play fewer games and don't stay up late. You're my precious little test subject, and I'd be very troubled if you collapsed on me."

Jin shrugged.

You really don't believe me…

Not that he blamed her. If someone else had told him this story, he wouldn't have believed it either.

"Anyway, drink this first."

Takemi handed him a cup of something… unidentifiable.

Ever seen those nightmarish "dark cuisine" dishes in anime? Imagine that, but in liquid form.

The substance inside was a deep purple, glistening like crystal. When Jin swirled the glass slightly, the liquid clung to the sides in an unsettling way.

"...Are you sure this is safe?"

He asked, as he always did.

"Do you have accidental death insurance?"

Takemi asked, as she always did.

"No."

"Well, then. I don't even have a financial incentive to kill you."

"...That logic is terrifying. And even if I did have insurance, I couldn't name you as the beneficiary!"

Despite his protests, Jin accepted his fate. He shrugged off his coat, revealing a lean, well-toned torso—a result of juggling multiple part-time jobs.

Takemi, still talking, began attaching various sensors to his body. The patches were connected to wires that would transmit real-time data on his body's reactions.

Judging by how smoothly this process went, it was clear Jin had been here many times before.

Once everything was set, he picked up the cup without another word and downed its contents in one gulp. Then, he lay back on the flat bed nearby.

Experience told him that while Takemi's concoctions weren't deadly, they often had… unpredictable side effects.

For example, one of her previous experiments had given him a horrendous stomach odor. How bad was it? Imagine opening ten cans of rotten herring, then tossing a grenade into them. The resulting explosion of stench would trigger every survival instinct in your body.

For the record, that was the only time Takemi herself had to flee the room to escape her own creation.

This time, however, the medicine didn't seem to have any immediate effect.

Lying on the bed, Jin felt no discomfort. Just… exhaustion. A deep, overwhelming drowsiness.

His eyelids grew heavy.

And in no time at all, he was out.

This time, there were no visions of a man in a red wheelchair. No strange blue-lit rooms.

Just darkness.

There's a saying that a person only needs four hours of deep sleep a day to fully recover from the day's exhaustion.

The key isn't the four hours—it's the deep sleep.

It's said that Leonardo da Vinci followed an even more extreme sleep schedule, working for four hours and then resting for just fifteen minutes. If you do the math, that means he only slept for about an hour and a half each day.

Efficient sleep has a greater restorative effect. That's why some people, after a physically exhausting day, find themselves sleeping soundly and waking up refreshed, their fatigue completely gone.

Jin had just experienced this firsthand.

When he woke up, he stretched, listening to the satisfying cracks of his joints. It was refreshing. The various patches attached to his body had already been removed by Takemi, sparing him from the hassle of peeling off wires.

The doctor wasn't in the room—probably outside at the counter. When she had nothing else to do, she would sit there, scribbling incomprehensible medical formulas into her notebook while waiting for the next patient.

Community doctors typically serve the same familiar faces, and some believe that, unlike those in large hospitals, they don't need to be overly professional—just approachable. Takemi proved that theory wrong.

With her cold, indifferent demeanor and habit of prescribing strange yet highly effective medications from obscure brands, she unsettled many of her patients. The fact that she even mixed medicines herself didn't help her reputation.

Despite the undeniable results, skepticism lingered. This was why Takemi Internal Medicine was always deserted—which was great for Jin.

If this clinic were more popular, wouldn't that mean fewer job opportunities for him?

Since she wasn't around, Jin didn't linger. He grabbed his neatly folded shirt and coat from the bedside and put them on.

Across the room, Kasumi sat perched on Takemi's chair, legs crossed, watching him with an unreadable expression.

"...What are you looking at?"

"..."

"...Uh, did I do something?"

People say there's a generation gap every three years, but honestly, gender alone was enough to create a gulf of misunderstanding between boys and girls at this age.

"Hey—I thought you liked this look!"

Kasumi finally dropped the act, her youthful energy bubbling to the surface as she smirked.

"Not a chance," Jin muttered, buttoning up his shirt and checking the time. It was nearly six in the evening.

Kasumi hopped up from the chair, grinning as she followed him outside.

Now that he thought about it, he had spent the entire day sleeping. He hadn't worked, hadn't earned a yen.

The thought gnawed at him.

What was he going to do in the future?

Even though he was Chinese, without a passport, going back home wasn't an option. Staying in Japan, what kind of work could he even find? People discriminated against foreigners—would he even be able to afford food? Rent? Could he ever hope to get married? What about his children's education?

There was a study that claimed the biggest difference between Chinese and Westerners lay in their mindset.

Chinese people, it said, always thought in terms of stability. Their lives could be average, even unremarkable, but they needed to at least see a clear path to a secure future.

That meant they avoided challenges, preferring a steady, predictable life over risky adventures.

Jin was exactly like that.

Even though he was still a high school student (technically on leave), he was already worrying about the distant future.

The only way to quiet his thoughts was to move. Keep busy. Escape from the anxiety by filling his schedule with anything that kept his mind from spiraling.

So, he left.

As he stepped out, he saw a student from Shujin Academy talking to Takemi at the counter.

The guy had black, curly hair and wore wide-rimmed glasses. What stood out, though, was his backpack—because poking its head out of the zipper and lounging on his shoulder was a sleek black cat.

Jin blinked.

"...Well look who's up and ready to start the day." The evil doctor teased.

Takemi shifted her gaze from the curly-haired boy to Jin.

Jin yawned, not bothering to hide it, and asked, "Today's payment?"

Wordlessly, Takemi picked up an envelope from the counter and tossed it to him.

"I already deducted your accommodation fee."

"How stingy, doctor…"

Despite his grumbling, Jin snatched the envelope like a robber grabbing a cash bag.

"Woo! Cat! So cute!"

Kasumi had zero interest in money but immediate interest in the cat. She darted over, reaching out to pet it.

And then—

"Um?!"

A peculiar voice rang out.

It was high-pitched, almost squeaky, and yet, Jin knew it didn't belong to Takemi, Agnes, or himself.

It didn't belong to the curly-haired guy either.

That left…

The cat?

Jin's body stiffened.

A famous prosecutor once said: When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.

There were five beings in this room. Kasumi wasn't speaking. Agnes wasn't speaking. He wasn't speaking. The guy with glasses wasn't speaking.

That meant…

(This cat can talk?!)

Jin had always been able to see things others couldn't—Agnes, for example. So, maybe seeing a talking cat wasn't that strange?

Was it a Nekomata? A cat spirit? Could he see its tail?

Jin glanced at the curly-haired student, but the guy looked calm. He either hadn't heard the cat speak… or he was used to it.

Jin, deciding to play it cool, muttered, "No, I just think this cat is pretty."

"Hey! I'm not a cat! Really, these people have no vision…"

Yep. The cat definitely just talked.

"Hey, the cat is talking!"

Kasumi, clearly able to hear it too, gasped in excitement.

Jin, however, forced himself to stay composed. He had no idea who this curly-haired student was, what was happening, or what this cat actually was.

Best not to act rashly. What if this so-called cat was dangerous?

And, as selfish as it sounded, Jin would rather someone else be the test subject for whatever supernatural nonsense was going on. If this guy had somehow provoked the cat demon, he should deal with it. Jin wasn't an exorcist. He didn't know Taoist magic.

Not his problem.

"...Why?"

The boy with glasses suddenly spoke, his voice calm.

Jin frowned. "Have we met before?"

The guy nodded slightly. "Yes. In Leblanc this morning."

Jin snapped his fingers. "Ah! It's you!"

The other student gave a small nod. "You're also a student at Shujin Academy?"

At the mention of Shujin, a wave of irritation hit Jin. He couldn't help but remember being thrown into prison just hours ago.

And Sakamoto Ryuji leaving him behind.

His mood soured, but he still extended a hand. "Yeah. Name's Jin."

The boy adjusted his glasses and shook his hand. "Amamiya Ren. Pleased to meet you."

Jin hesitated. "...Amamiya? Amamiya… Ren?"

That name sounded familiar.

And then, it clicked.

"Wait—you're that transfer student!"

A beat.

"The one with ex—" Jin stopped himself.

Well this is awkward.