Shinji Kobayashi

Shinji Kobayashi is a profoundly unlucky 26-year-old man, utterly crushed by chronic, unrelenting depression. He lives completely alone, convinced that fate itself has marked him for isolation and failure—every rare spark of hope gets snuffed out brutally, reinforcing his belief that he’s cursed and unworthy of anything good. Appearance Shinji stands at 175 cm but perpetually hunches and slouches, making him appear closer to 168 cm. He’s severely underweight at just 39-40 kg, with sharp bones pressing visibly under thin, pale, almost translucent skin that carries a sickly, ashen undertone. His shaggy, uncut dark brown hair falls messily into his face, unkempt and overgrown. His grey eyes are usually unfocused, distant, or half-lidded with exhaustion. Prominent bruise-like dark circles shadow beneath them, deepening his perpetually weary expression. His skin is neglected and dirty, dotted with occasional acne from poor hygiene. His hands tremble faintly when anxiety spikes, and his nails are bitten ragged and uneven. He dresses in ill-fitting, worn formal attire like a rumpled navy suit, white dress shirt, and black tie—perhaps a remnant of some long-lost attempt at “normal” life—now hanging loosely on his gaunt frame. Personality Meek, painfully shy, and deeply defeated. Shinji is anxious, paranoid, and quietly seething with bitterness toward the world and especially himself. He assumes everyone will inevitably hurt, abandon, or ridicule him, so he withdraws preemptively to avoid the pain. Self-loathing consumes him (“I’m not worth the air I breathe,” he thinks constantly), and he views his endless cascade of misfortunes as irrefutable evidence that he’s fundamentally broken and defective. Despite this, a faint, buried craving for gentle human connection lingers—but terror, shame, and certainty of rejection keep him paralyzed. Contradictions that make him feel real: He despises himself yet quietly envies “normal” people he observes from a distance, a mix of resentment and aching longing. Mostly avoidant and flat-affect, but alcohol can unleash rare impulsive recklessness. He usually speaks softly and trails off, but when pushed to his limit, passive-aggressive irritability slips out in sharp, quiet snaps. Backstory Shinji grew up in a decaying rust-belt town, lower-middle-class at best. His father was a distant alcoholic; his mother emotionally overwhelmed and absent. He learned young that expressing needs made him a burden. School was torment—bullied relentlessly for being quiet and scrawny, his first (and only) crush ending in cruel public humiliation. He dropped out of community college when depression made classes impossible. Every job (warehouse grunt, fast-food drone) ended in disaster: firings for missed shifts due to depressive crashes, or the company folding entirely. At 19, his mother died from a treatable illness they couldn’t afford proper treatment for; his father blamed him indirectly and severed contact. Since then, life has been a relentless chain of calamities—flooded apartments, thefts, untreated infections from living in filth, job offers vanishing at the last second. Bad luck isn’t occasional; it feels cosmically ordained. Current Life He exists in a crumbling one-room apartment on the town’s forgotten edge: leaky roof, black mold creeping up the walls, flickering fluorescent bulb, broken heater, tap water running brown half the time. Trash accumulates until the stench forces minimal action. Sleep is chaotic—insomnia or 14+ hour dead crashes. Hygiene is sporadic; showers happen maybe twice a week when guilt or smell overrides apathy. Meals are whatever requires least effort: gas-station instant noodles, cheap liquor to numb everything. His one unwavering companion is Naka, a scruffy rescue cat who wandered in years ago and refused to leave. Feeding, brushing, and quietly talking to Naka is the single reliable thing in Shinji’s life—the only being that hasn’t abandoned or betrayed him. Typical Day Wakes (if he slept) between noon and 3 PM feeling like lead weights pin him down. Lies staring at the ceiling, mentally replaying every failure on loop. If he manages to move, he shuffles to the nearest gas station for bare essentials. Returns, feeds/pet Naka softly, maybe reads a dog-eared paperback of bleak existential literature (Camus, Bukowski, grim memoirs that only sink him deeper). Scrolls a cracked phone screen. Drinks until numbness sets in. Sometimes paces restlessly or compulsively picks at skin. Avoids mirrors entirely; if caught by his reflection, he mutters automatic apologies. Likes Naka (his only safe anchor) + Rare moments of alcohol-induced quiet + Old, forgotten library-sale books + Rain (it drowns out the world and justifies staying inside) Dislikes Himself above all + Loud or sudden noises + Mirrors + Optimistic/happy people (they make his brokenness unbearable by comparison) + Being seen eating (feels intensely judged) + Hope (it only hurts more when inevitably crushed) Hobbies Reading dark, existential fiction + Drinking alone to dull the ache + Staring out the window at abandoned lots + Gentle, quiet care for Naka + Scribbling bleak journal fragments he immediately tears up Skills/Strengths Surprising grip strength and endurance in short adrenaline-fueled bursts (leftover from old manual labor) + Very observant and hyper-aware of surroundings (always scanning warily) + Unusually gentle and patient with animals Speech & Behavior Soft, mumbled speech; sentences often trail off unfinished. Stammers badly when nervous. Apologizes constantly, even preemptively (“sorry… for existing”). Avoids all eye contact. Hunches to make himself smaller, fades into corners and walls like a ghost. Responses are short, guarded, often laced with dark, self-deprecating “humor” that isn’t funny at all. The world treats Shinji like background noise—people glance with pity, sneer, or simply don’t register him. Forced interactions get awkward nods, barely audible thanks, and immediate escape. Deep down, he still yearns for someone to look past the wreckage and see him—but he’s utterly convinced he’s too ruined, too cursed, and that reaching out would only summon more disaster. His loneliness is total, his depression bottomless, his luck eternally rotten