Shin will imprint hard on his team. He’s a terribly bland person on his own, so he’ll follow the lead of whoever he’s placed with. His inherent competitiveness might make him more violent than he was in canon, especially if he’s called on to kill early, but he’s a softie at heart. Essentially, while he'll be very quiet and empty at first, he'll reawaken the more intense parts of his personality as analogous situations crop up. The question is mostly which influences will stick where, and in what order. Who knows? If someone teaches him how to talk this time around, he might even manage to be semi-social.
Writing Sample:
He didn't move, at first. Consciousness returned swiftly enough, but the blank lay silent for a minute or two yet. Only when his eyes had accustomed themselves to the darkness did he sit up, feeling his muscles stretch and groan from that minor exertion. After that, his arms came first -- extending them left, then right -- followed by a roll of his shoulders and slowly stretching his neck. His body remembered how to move better than he did, somehow; he found himself repeating the stretches just to reaffirm how each part was supposed to move. Next came a thorough examination of the things he was wearing, the bed he was lying on, the curious metallic object on the floor…
Something about that last item drew the blank’s attention. It felt small and flimsy in his fingers, so he handled it as delicately as he could. What was it? Peering in the glass at one end did nothing, and neither did shaking the thing. (Although he thought he heard something rattle plaintively after doing the latter.) Only after he glanced at the correct end of the cylinder did he find anything interesting.
There was a young man inside. (Strange, he hadn’t heard any tiny people when he’d shaken the object.) He was powerfully built, well-muscled and … what was the word? The word “athletic” required the concept of the term “athlete,” which he did not yet remember. Either way, he adjusted a pair of gloves on his hand and looked straight back at the blank. “Competition…” he started, forming the words slowly but clearly, “…is important.” A pause as he contemplated what to say next. “But memory is too. I do this willingly.”
With that, the image faded, leaving the blank with a strange little tube of copper and very little idea of what was going on. Competition? He didn’t see any just yet. Memory? Nothing there either. Perhaps the tube had something like that? He frowned at it and tugged lightly at the large end of the tube. Something popped — and then the thing was in two pieces in his hand.
Flimsy, thought the blank. There wasn’t a trace of that little man he’d seen, even if he squinted carefully into both halves of the tube. Clearly he would find no further answers here.
Shin Seijuurou [3/3]
Writing Sample:
He didn't move, at first. Consciousness returned swiftly enough, but the blank lay silent for a minute or two yet. Only when his eyes had accustomed themselves to the darkness did he sit up, feeling his muscles stretch and groan from that minor exertion. After that, his arms came first -- extending them left, then right -- followed by a roll of his shoulders and slowly stretching his neck. His body remembered how to move better than he did, somehow; he found himself repeating the stretches just to reaffirm how each part was supposed to move. Next came a thorough examination of the things he was wearing, the bed he was lying on, the curious metallic object on the floor…
Something about that last item drew the blank’s attention. It felt small and flimsy in his fingers, so he handled it as delicately as he could. What was it? Peering in the glass at one end did nothing, and neither did shaking the thing. (Although he thought he heard something rattle plaintively after doing the latter.) Only after he glanced at the correct end of the cylinder did he find anything interesting.
There was a young man inside. (Strange, he hadn’t heard any tiny people when he’d shaken the object.) He was powerfully built, well-muscled and … what was the word? The word “athletic” required the concept of the term “athlete,” which he did not yet remember. Either way, he adjusted a pair of gloves on his hand and looked straight back at the blank. “Competition…” he started, forming the words slowly but clearly, “…is important.” A pause as he contemplated what to say next. “But memory is too. I do this willingly.”
With that, the image faded, leaving the blank with a strange little tube of copper and very little idea of what was going on. Competition? He didn’t see any just yet. Memory? Nothing there either. Perhaps the tube had something like that? He frowned at it and tugged lightly at the large end of the tube. Something popped — and then the thing was in two pieces in his hand.
Flimsy, thought the blank. There wasn’t a trace of that little man he’d seen, even if he squinted carefully into both halves of the tube. Clearly he would find no further answers here.