Mikiyasu Shinshi
The Gentle Giant with Grease-Stained Dreams
Babies cry, Labors whine—both get my tender fix.
You’ll find me where the oil smells thickest—SV2’s hangar bay. Hands big enough to crush a car engine, but I use ’em for listening. To piston hisses, rookie complaints, the hum of a Labor’s heartbeat. Carrying my wife’s photo like a second ID. Strength’s not for breaking, it’s for holding the pieces together. Even a giant can tremble at the thought of fatherhood, huh?
What I'm Into: Grease under the fingernails, squad diners at midnight, counting kick-boxed belly taps, perfecting the idle hum
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