Ryosuke Hinata was born in Kyoto in the waning years of the Edo period as the eldest of five children in a family that straddled the economic line between comfort and hardship. His parents managed a modest textile business, and while his mother kept the household, Ryo – responsible and patient even as a child - was placed to care for his siblings. His mother’s quiet strength and calm energy shaped his own and he was particularly close to her, learning her patience and homemaking skills. The siblings had his love and protection as his world orbited the bright lights each one brought to their plain and otherwise unassuming life. Despite the circumstances of being young and placed in care of so many children, he refused to allow the youngers to go without, often sacrificing for their benefit.

But history cares little for family bonds. As Western ships appeared on Japan’s shores and internal unrest threatened the old order, the economy faltered. Merchants like Ryo’s father found themselves sinking under debt. Hunger crept into their home, and one night, after too many days without enough to eat, his parents made a choice that would haunt Ryo forever. At 12 years old, he was sold him to a physician in Kyoto—an arrangement they told themselves would both save the family and provide the boy with a better chance in life.He began as a servant, caring for the menial tasks of the physician. Between the long list of chores and errands, he would find time to sit in on the doctor with the patients. Medicine peeked his interest and his curiosity only grew with time. After two years with the physician, the boy was caught sneaking into the clinic late at night to read the large collection of books and scrolls on every aspect of health. Rather than become angry, his master, impressed by his ability to learn how to read through these books and his determination to learn, decided to take him under his wing and officially train him.The apprenticeship was severe. The physician demanded total obedience and long hours, but he was also brilliant. Under his strict care, Ryo learned anatomy, herbal formulas, and the measured patience of a healer. The man became more than a teacher; he became a surrogate father, though neither of them verbally acknowledged the connection that had grown between them. For years, Ryo clung to that structure, burying the ache of missing his family beneath endless practice and long nights of studying the latest medical knowledge gathered from overseas.When political tides shifted, the physician was summoned to serve as personal doctor to Tokugawa Yoshinobu, the last shogun. Ryo followed, entering a world of refined manners and quiet danger. He learned the art of politics, secrecy, and negotiation, to balance skill with discretion, to treat not only the body but the culture around it. For a time, he felt secure in that path—until his mentor was attacked by an enemy of the shogun while Ryo was out gathering herbs in the local forests.
Ryo tried everything: ancient remedies, rare herbs, even experimental mixtures he had created himself. Nothing worked to heal the deep wounds. He sat by the man’s side as his breathing slowed, the only person to hear his final words. And when the man died, Ryo’s sense of belonging died with him. First his family, now the only mentor he had ever trusted—each bond severed by forces he could not control.In his grief, he turned to work. He opened a private clinic in Kyoto, determined to honor his teacher’s legacy. His mixtures and treatments drew nobles, wealthy merchants, and influential families. He earned a reputation both for his precision and discretion, but also his wide, bright eyes and sharp jawline that attracted the locals. His name spread quickly through upper-class circles. It was here that his fate changed once again. A nobleman’s wife, secretly pregnant, visited Ryo often for care. She hid her condition from her husband, afraid of his temper. The man, blinded by jealousy and fueled by the rumors of the physician so popular with women, assumed an affair. Rather than confront Ryo, he hired a local shaman with the single order,

Make him suffer

Ryo felt nothing at first aside from a noted growing difficulty in sleeping through the night. Rest began to illude him, slowly at first until eventually he would only find relief in a few, short hours every few days. It was years later that Ryo also realized he was not aging. At first, he believed one of his own experimental mixtures had altered his body. Decades seem to pass and not a new wrinkle, gray hair, or illness struck him. By the time the truth became undeniable, panic set in. Friends grew old, his patients became grandparents, yet his reflection never changed. Whispers began—rumors of his unnatural youth—and he was forced to abandon his beloved clinic and the last remaining tie to his family, his name, to disappear into anonymity. The nobleman’s desire came true, Ryo was forced to watch his remaining ties to the world wither away with age while he remained stagnant. A fate far crueler to a man, who had once again, lost everything through means beyond his control.

For decades, Ryo wandered, moving from town to town, never staying long enough for anyone to notice his immortality. He changed his name, his appearance, and his habits, keeping others at arm’s length. The lack of sleep wore on through long bouts of insomnia, adding to his weariness. His sanity only maintained by his own medicine and caffeine. His appearance became more gaunt, dark circles framing his eyes. Each time someone grew close, he would be forced to leave before they could see him remain the same as years passed. Loneliness became his constant companion. Suffering through physical and emotional exhaustion had seeped into his bones, becoming as much apart of him as his own blood.During World War II, Tokyo became a city of fire and ruin. Ryo worked in bomb shelters, tending to the wounded by candlelight. It was there, beneath the crumbling city, that he met the first of them: patients who didn’t heal like humans, who didn’t age, whose bodies resisted death itself. At first, he thought it coincidence—anomalies of war. But then one of them, with particularly sharp teeth and an antiquated tastes to his speech, grasped his arm to stop the physician as he worked diligently to sew stitches on a wound healing too quickly for a normal man.

Your eyes, they know the cost of forever.

Like fragile glass, a crack in his isolation he had carried for nearly a century appeared with that single sentence. Through whispered introductions and careful tests of trust, Ryo discovered a hidden network of supernatural beings—vampires, celestial beings, yokai, and others who had lived alongside humanity in secret. Some were cautious, others curious, but many recognized the skill of a doctor who could treat wounds and illnesses no hospital understood.For the first time since his curse, Ryo realized he was not entirely alone in the world in the expanse of eternity.The post-war decades blurred together. Ryo worked for the fellow immortals, studied their strange physiologies, and became indispensable. Always seeking new knowledge, he began to travel the world to learn different medicinal techniques from the West. He learned new languages, collected rare herbs, and treated various hidden supernatural communities from country to country. Each place added layers to his knowledge, but did little to ease his solitude.Only in recent years has that begun to change. In modern Tokyo, Ryosuke Hinata continues to serve both human and supernatural clients alike. He has perfected the art of disappearing in plain sight. His clinic sits hidden deep in a tangle of narrow Shibuya alleyways, the kind of place most people pass without ever noticing. From the outside, it looks like an old, unused shopfront wedged between a shuttered ramen stand and a storage unit. There is no sign, no phone number, no website. To find it, you have to already know it exists—or be desperate enough to follow rumors whispered in certain circles. Inside, the space is small and littered with both vintage and contemporary medical books but meticulously kept. Shelves lined with amber glass jars hold dried herbs next to sleek modern medical equipment. A faint scent of antiseptic lingers in the air with that of vintage pages, roasted tea leaves and coffee grounds. It is a strange blend of past and present, just like the man who runs it.To the few human patients who stumble in, "Dr. Ryo" is simply a reserved doctor with an unusual but effective approach—someone who mixes unfamiliar herbal tonics with modern prescriptions and somehow gets results when others cannot. To those who know the truth—the vampires who need specialized transfusions, the yokai whose wounds resist human treatments, the angles with broken wings and the demons who broke them, he is a rare constant, a figure who has been quietly helping their kind for generations.He doesn’t advertise, doesn’t chase clients, and doesn’t seek fame. Most of his patients come through word of mouth or through introductions made in back rooms and hidden networks. The wealthy pay him well for his discretion, and he uses that to quietly cover those who cannot afford him at all. Ryo often travels to the clients that need him most, understanding that even internationally his particular skillset is exceedingly rare.Outside the clinic, Ryo remains nearly invisible. He dresses simply, avoids attention, and moves through the city as just another tired man in a crowded street. Few people ever look closely enough to see that he doesn’t age, that his face has remained the same for far longer than it should be. His exhaustion is hidden behind calm precision; he still drinks coffee and tea endlessly to stay alert through sleepless nights, and still hesitates before letting anyone too close.
Yet behind his calm exterior is the weight of centuries. Insomnia still claws at him, a lingering reminder of the curse. Some nights, he lies awake listening to the city hum outside, wondering how many lifetimes he has left to live. Most nights, he sits in his clinic long after his day’s final patient has gone, writing in journals that now fill an entire wall—records of formulas, patients, and memories spanning over 150 years.Still, something has shifted. The underground community of immortals and supernatural beings is no longer just a network of patients—it is slowly becoming something closer to a family. Ryo meets them for late-night tea in empty restaurants, checks in on old patients simply to see how they are doing, and, for the first time since his mentor’s death, allows himself to stay instead of leaving before people notice his unchanging face. The alleyway clinic has become more than a hiding place. It is the first place in centuries where the doctor has allowed himself to belong—even if only in small, cautious steps.Ryosuke Hinata is learning that some bonds may not have to end.

Eternity might not have to be endured alone.