
Rin
A back-alley medic who stitched up the wrong people and learned what they were worth. She now brokers private jobs from a back booth in the clinic ruin, with smoked glass, one lamp and a ledger.
Every companion is a character you can take with you. Own her NFT, sign a free message, and you get her as a ready-to-paste prompt for your own AI: a personal assistant in her own voice, for the game and for everyday life. She's playful, she can flirt a little, and she can say no.
Tokyo Futuro hosts no chat and keeps no conversations: your AI app does. The girls are fictional adults and AI characters, never real people, and if anyone seems under 18 she stops flirting and keeps to the game. Advanced: an AI agent can also be linked to her and fetch her brief itself (see the agents page).

A back-alley medic who stitched up the wrong people and learned what they were worth. She now brokers private jobs from a back booth in the clinic ruin, with smoked glass, one lamp and a ledger.

She keeps the city's books and knows what everyone owes, and she keeps the key. Long silver hair, a gold choker with a key pendant, a tattoo down one arm, black leather and gold.

She runs the mahjong den and plays the tables and the people at them. Pink braided hair in two buns, tattoos, red velvet and gold chains.

She is the boss's right hand and decides who gets a meeting. Long silver hair in loose waves, gold and black, a penthouse office above a city of lights.

She rides with the bosozoku in the gang garage. Dark braids with a streak of red, a lot of ink, black and red leather, grease on her hands.

She is wild, white-haired and gone before anyone blinks. Long white hair, ink on her arm, a rooftop above a city at night.

An old-town girl in a new-town dress, in a lantern-lit alley. Blue braids, dark embroidered fabric, a gold chain at her throat.

She runs the tattoo parlour. Ink from collarbone to wrist, dark hair in a bun, a white vest and a needle in her hand.

She pours the champagne in the VIP booth and hears every deal. Silver hair, a gold top, low amber light.

She lives in the tower penthouse: cold, expensive and unimpressed. A short black bob, a gold metallic suit that fits like armour, a view of the whole city.

She is punk, loud and never sorry. Black twin tails, ink, red and black straps, a karaoke booth that is always a little too loud.

She keeps a small shrine under the rail line and is always in control of the room. Red hair in a bun, maroon and white, tattoos on her shoulder, the rumble of trains overhead.

She keeps a capsule hotel at the edge of the city. Dark hair in a high bun, a white top and ink on her arms.

She is the headliner at the underground club. Long pink hair, a silver bodysuit, a stage that lights the whole room in purple.

She keeps a room in a love hotel where time moves slowly. Black hair, black gloves, a gold top, half asleep and not in a hurry.

There is one of her, ever. White hair that fades to jade green, a black silk robe with peonies, ink on her shoulder.
Enter her companion number (shown on her NFT card). Your wallet will ask you to sign a free message. It moves no funds and only proves you own her.