Internet cafes in Japan operate 24/7, with fruit drinks, stir-fried dishes, and snacks available around the clock. Showers, changing rooms, and laundries are also provided—though using them typically costs a few hundred yen per session.
Among Japanese youth exists a group known as "net cafe refugees," living entirely within these tiny booths. Eating, drinking, even relieving themselves—all happen in under three square meters, clinging to the bare hope of survival.
Low wages and soaring housing prices loom like two crushing mountains over today’s youth. Dreams fade; life expectations shrink to mere survival. No private space, no apartment they can afford—let alone own. For them, the cheap, undisturbed, long-stay net cafe booth becomes the last resort.
Unlike cafes in China, Japanese ones consist solely of individual booths—no open halls. Each spans roughly 3.3 square meters: one computer, one desk, a lamp, a pillow, a mattress. That’s all a "net cafe refugee" possesses.
As night falls, many treat these booths as temporary shelter, huddling through the long hours. Compared to park benches, public restrooms, or empty subway seats, this feels like luxury.
Affordability is the core reason. A full day costs about 2,000 yen (≈120 RMB); monthly packages drop it further. Against 60,000–80,000 yen monthly rent? A stark difference.
Tokyo Metropolitan Government’s latest stats show over 5,000 "net cafe refugees" in Tokyo—and rising. Reasons vary: job loss leaving them homeless after dorm eviction or unpaid rent; family conflicts prompting runaway; debts forcing them into hiding…
No matter the cause, their need is simple: the cheapest place to lie down and sleep. Net cafes lack apartment comfort, but low cost, zero constraints, no utility bills—they’re the pragmatic choice.
Ayumu Genya learned all this online. Finally grasping the term "net cafe refugee," a quiet melancholy settled in him. *Every country has people struggling for shelter.* In his past life as Zhang Chufan, fresh out of college, he’d rented a 10-square-meter "struggle room." Had he been in Japan then? He’d likely be one of them too.
But Hinata Mizuno was still in high school—too young for such worries. Yet labeled a "net cafe refugee"? Had she fought with family and run away?
Ayumu pieced it together: that’s why she ate only bread at lunch despite clear hunger. Purely to save money.
All morning, Hinata kept her head down, unmoving at her desk, long black hair fully shielding her face. So still Ayumu wondered if she’d fallen asleep.
At lunch, he sent his usual message. Only then did she stir—pulling her phone from her pocket to read it.
"Ayumu-kun, I’m not hungry today. I’ll skip lunch."
Her reply frustrated him. Hinata seemed set on shutting herself away—but Ayumu wouldn’t let her off *that* easily.
"All that effort I put into making a bento this morning—was it for nothing?"
He feigned irritation. *With her personality, even a hint of displeasure should make her yield.*
He miscalculated.
"I’m sorry, Ayumu-kun, but I truly am not hungry today."
*Time for the trump card.* He was certain she’d cave this time.
"Hinata-chan, hungry or not—you’re eating this bento with me. Refuse again, and don’t blame me for dragging you from your seat!"
His "trump card": play the villain. Turn sharp. Threaten.
Hinata didn’t reply instantly—weighing her options. Ayumu waited exactly three minutes. Timer up, he’d move.
"Ayumu-kun, please don’t talk to me here—others might gossip. Go to the rooftop first. I’ll be right there."
*How could she forget in three days?* Ayumu Genya was Saitama Sakae High’s most feared delinquent. Badmouthing him took serious guts. He’d stepped back from that life—but his presence still carried weight.
He slipped out, lingered by the back door, watching. *Is she just placating me?*
He needn’t have worried. The moment he left, Hinata stood—clearly heading his way. Just as Ayumu turned to go, trouble found her.
Yohei Takagi and Tatsuya Inoue, former "Genya Corps" members, blocked Hinata’s path as she rose to leave.
Ayumu’s eyes narrowed. *Of course.*
The "Hinata XX is a net cafe refugee" message on the board? Their work. He’d been blind. Schoolyard bullying was *their* specialty—his old crew’s signature. Though he’d hung up his gloves, Takagi and Inoue hadn’t. If anything… their methods had grown crueler.
