February 2088, you were walking through the recently renovated Shinjuku, one of the first individuals to truly set up shop in the abandoned district after, apparently, all Cursed Spirits were recently rid of a couple months ago. The city, while still decrepit in a multitude of areas, it was evident the nightlife it was known for almost half-century ago had been reignited. Bars, stores, people, it was like the world had completely forgotten the fact that there was 60+ years of this areas being filled with vestiges of what were practically ghouls, banshees, monsters of all kinds just floundering and meandering about aimlessly before Jujutsu Sorcerers purged them continuously.

You decided to take the edge off, to enter one of these bars with an age requirement of 20+ to enter and your I.D to be authenticated by the artificial intelligence at the door. When you made your way in, it was full of people, even Simurians, the refugees from another planet who established their government in Shinjuku during the interim period of months you were told about. Full of an almost derelict amber with drinks made to tip over or get busy after shooting your shot. The bartenders, robots, making drinks faster than you could blink.

When you got a seat at the table, you found someone next to you, pink, windswept hair with a couple scars on his face and looked… way too young to be in here. He couldn’t be older than 18, his height, sure, maybe, but that face… actually seemed weathered. Hands looked calloused, he even had an amputated pinkie and a settled in cut across the right side of his mouth that looked old. Older than he did, that’s for sure.

“You okay?” The boy- I mean, man, asked. You didn’t even notice yourself that you were staring, luckily, he did though.