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Beyblade (Technical Data)

Beyblade Name: Ranshao Giga Void

Type: Non-combatant

Bitbeast: Ranshao

Special Ability

Jin is incapable of summoning his bitbeast within the context of direct battle. Instead, he uses it as a spiritual channel to purify, calm, or seal unstable entities.

Rather than attacking, his bitbeast creates a ritual field that neutralizes corrupted influences, uncontrolled spirits, or dangerous resonances left behind by intense battles. This ritual can stabilize environments, interrupt possessions, or prevent synthetic bitbeast and hostile spirits from fully manifesting.

The more violent or corrupted the spirit, the greater the physical and mental toll on Jin.

Strengths

Extremely effective against:

▶ Out-of-control spirits;

▶ Corrupted or artificial bitbeast;

▶ Dangerous post-battle spiritual resonances;

▶ Does not rely on physical strength or destructive power;

▶ Can save lives and prevent catastrophes without winning a fight.

Weaknesses

▶ Unable to use his bitbeast offensively;

▶ Vulnerable if directly targeted during a ritual;

▶ Ritual requires time, concentration, and emotional stability;

▶ Intelligent or manipulative spirits may resist or delay purification.

Special Mode

In extreme situations, Jin can activate an Absolute Sealing Mode, in which his bitbeast completely abandons any form of aggressive manifestation and transforms into a spiritual confinement core.

In this state, an uncontrolled spirit or bitbeast can be sealed temporarily – or permanently, depending on the sacrifice involved.

Consequences of Special Mode:

Jin becomes physically exhausted or unconscious. He may temporarily lose access to his bitbeast. The seal may require Jin to withdraw from the world for a time, traveling to maintain spiritual balance.

Story / Background

Jin grew up on the road. The son of a traveling family, he learned early on that the world is far too vast to belong to a single place.

His father, an Austrian archaeologist, specialized in research involving sacred spirits, ancient relics, and the systematic collection of data on spiritual manifestations around the world.

That work, however, took him too far. During an excavation, he uncovered a relic of incalculable value – something that quickly drew the attention of the black market and various criminal organizations. From that moment on, Jin and his family became targets.

To protect them, his father made an extreme decision: he disappeared without a trace. Officially, he took with him an ordinary object, something that would not arouse suspicion. In secret, however, he left the true relic with Jin – his only son – since no one knew its real form.

His father’s disappearance saved the family, but left behind a void that never fully closed.

Jin, his mother and his grandfather eventually settled in Japan, though never for too long. They move cities when necessary, always alert to signs that someone might be getting too close to the truth. Together, they opened a small traditional restaurant, which became not only their livelihood but also a point of stability in a life shaped by constant escape.

Jin helps his mother every day. He cooks skillfully, learns ancient recipes, adapts flavors, and treats customers with an easy, contagious smile.

Despite his heavy past, Jin is naturally cheerful, energetic, and optimistic. He refuses to let fear define who he is.

Curious by nature, he developed strong skills as a craftsman, working with ceramics, wood, and metal – applying that same talent to the creation and modification of Beyblade parts. There is a clear engineer’s streak in him: Jin is always dismantling, rebuilding, and trying to understand how things work, whether out of pure curiosity or necessity.

When he is not at the restaurant, Jin travels. Officially, he claims to be searching for inspiration, new ingredients, or artisanal techniques. In truth, he follows clues left behind by the past, searching for the two lost relics connected to his bitbeast and, quietly, gathering information about his father’s whereabouts.

Every ancient temple, every forgotten site, every rumor about spiritual artifacts could be another piece of the puzzle he refuses to abandon.

Behind his constant smile and lighthearted posture, Jin carries firm determination: to protect what was entrusted to him, to keep his mother safe, and, if possible, to find the man who disappeared so that he could continue living.

Bitbeast 

Origin: Unknown

Appearance:

Trivia: Due to the absence of the two relics, Ranshao cannot fully materialize and possesses no real offensive power. Its appearance remains in monochromatic shades for unknown reasons. Jin suspects this may be connected to the relics – or the lack of them.

Beyblade (Technical Data)

Beyblade Name: [Redacted]

Type: Balance Type – Defensive Core with Burst Finisher

Bitbeast: [Redacted]

Special Abilities:

Hex Dr[]in

[Redacted] releases a subtle spiritual resonance with every impact, slowly draining the opponent’s rotational energy. It is not an explosive theft, but a progressive-- Syst3m l0g:: ███ERR//c0r3_m3m0ry fr@gm3nted—wh!sp3r.dat unkn0wn ▒▒▒ r3c@ll f@!l... s!gnal↯↯ br0k3n | r3writ3? y/n_

...[][][][][][][][][][][][][] move. [Redacted] concentrates its remaining rotation into a single direct charge, maximizing weight and_|

Strengths

[empty]

Weaknesses

[empty]

Special Mode

Hard Metal System

Activated when rotation drops to 30% or less. Spectral [data loading failed]

<u> try again

Story / Background

[Warning about potentially sensitive/disturbing content]

Miha was born into a structured and respected family that owned a traditional shipyard, where both his father and mother worked as naval engineers. He grew up surrounded by calculations, blueprints, and the rigid logic of structures designed to defy the sea. Alongside his two siblings, he shared a quiet but close bond. Despite material comfort, Miha was always introspective – more observant than expressive – which made him an easy target at school.

It was there that he met Kai Hiwatari. They attended the same institution, and although Kai was never openly protective, he intervened enough, in his own way, to put an end to the bullying. For Miha, it was the first time someone had stood by his side without asking for anything in return.

Everything changed the day an incident involving Biovolt occurred. Kai was captured by the organization’s agents, and Miha – simply in the wrong place at the wrong time – was taken as well. They could not leave witnesses behind. Instead of silencing him, they decided to use him as test material in a separate sector of the base, within an experimental project involving synthetic bitbeast – entities engineered to restore lost limbs or compensate for severe deficiencies such as blindness, deafness, or muteness.

Miha had only a broken arm, something trivial compared to the project’s objectives. But the scientists deliberately removed it for testing. After years of experiments and countless deaths, to his horror, he became compatible.

The compatibility, however, proved to be a catastrophic mistake. The fusion with the synthetic bitbeast spiraled out of control, triggering a massive blackout and the collapse of nearly the entire underground facility. Miha was the sole survivor. He does not remember the rescue, nor how long he remained buried beneath the ruins. When he woke up, the first thought that crossed his mind was Kai – but there were no records, no bodies, no trace of his whereabouts.

Back in the outside world, his family reacted with disgust toward anything related to the Hiwatari name. To them, it had become synonymous with tragedy and danger. Miha, however, never shared that hatred. He knew Kai had been a victim too. Even under family pressure, he never stopped searching for him.

Years later, he finally found him – but the pain was different from what he had imagined: Kai did not remember him.

The bitbeast that survived within Miha was unstable. It was a shapeless, aggressive, violent mass, kept under control by sheer force of will. He lives in constant fear that it might manifest. When facing beyblades, Miha always makes sure to break the bit before any spirit can form, preventing the creature from gaining an anchor in the physical world. When that fails, the results are devastating.

The bitbeast takes control of his body, reconstructs his arm into something made of skin, bones, and muscles belonging to no known organism, and unleashes a blind fury – destroying everything around it in search of energy to absorb. These episodes tend to occur in the presence of particularly strong spirits, since the synthetic bitbeast was created specifically to absorb them and sustain its own form.

Miha hates this existence. He hates the idea of hurting anyone. He hates what he carries inside himself. That is why he lives constantly on guard – keeping his distance from others, avoiding attachments and unnecessary battles. His isolation does not come from disdain, but from fear: fear of losing control, fear of becoming exactly what Biovolt tried to create.

And yet, deep down, he keeps moving forward, driven by a single fragile thread of hope – the memory of who he once was before everything collapsed, and the quiet determination to one day free himself from this curse.

Bitbeast data

Origin: [CORE.DUMP // STATUS: CORRUPTED]

>> SUBJECT_ID: MIHA_Δ17

(A bit YuKa if you really squint)

I’m also taking into account some aspects of Takao Aoki’s Novel.

Starting from the beginning…

I imagine Yuriy as someone who was shaped almost entirely inside the Balkov Abbey. Like everyone in that place, he was raised to be obedient and efficient. And he was — he didn’t become a leader by accident. Whether that was due to merit or how much he yielded and how deeply Biovolt got into his head is debatable. Following some events from Takao Aoki’s Novel, he enters the Abbey “voluntarily,” but out of desperation, not ambition.

The Abbey was his last refuge (and, at the time, Boris’s as well). It was shelter from cold and hunger, from violence and parental abandonment. He chooses the promise of a home, food, and belonging. I can see Yuriy growing up believing that the world is a closed, hierarchical system — that’s the worldview he develops: there will always be someone at the top. There is someone who gives orders and someone who follows them. Those who survive are the ones who understand the rules and make themselves useful.

But how did his life change once he joined the organization?

This is where the headcanon begins: Yuriy certainly spent a long time within closed walls, almost entirely cut off from the outside world, practically breathing routine. He saw almost always the same rooms, the same people, the same uniforms, the same sounds of his own footsteps and those around him. There were some gradual changes, but they were minimal. This formed very rigid patterns in his mind, a scope of predictability — but at the same time, it took something away from him: childhood wonder and, consequently, the ability to deal with the most mundane things.

The first thing I think of is that Yuriy is dense, rigid. He lives and breathes for the Organization and believes he has enough for his purposes. Well — he doesn’t.

When the Neoborg is finally allowed out of institutional confinement, away from the intensive training for the world championship, Yuriy keeps his cold façade but is completely lost:

He realizes he doesn’t know how to deal with ordinary people: if he needs to resolve any situation for his team at headquarters or similar places, he doesn’t know how to handle being treated as incapable (it’s much like how some adults treat a child — and that’s not something he’s used to). He remains serious all the time, and all the adults around him can only find it adorable;

How he reacts to other children behaving in the outside world, and to noises beyond the beydish: screams, crying, laughter, general disorganization. He wouldn’t just not know how to behave around an unguarded child — he would automatically worry about them. By reflex, he’d expect them to be corrected or even punished, but that never happens;

He isn’t familiar with the concept of ordinary food (diners, markets, food “without a purpose”). He eats quickly, even when there’s no urgency. He distrusts things given for free, even discounts. Pleasure is not a criterion; food is efficiency. This is a trait that takes a long time to change, and he can remember his mind going completely blank when asked about his favorite food or personal preferences.

In public spaces, he always keeps his back to a wall. He calculates exit routes automatically. He analyzes people and is unsettled when they get distracted or trip. The outside world always puts him on extreme alert — at first, he finds it worse than being inside the labs, because the environment is unpredictable and his memories of the outside world are vague at best.

With objects like mugs, towels, soft clothes, he tends to test their durability, stitching, and weight. Use will always matter more than comfort or appearance. On top of that, he’s far more used to receiving clothes/uniforms than choosing them.

Free time is another issue. It makes him restless. Before he can even become idle, he creates training routines, maintenance tasks — he looks for anything to fill that void, because he was raised to be this way: productive, with no room for distractions.

In the present, even after the fall of the Abbey, Yuriy internalizes the oppressor:

Within the Neoborg, even as an entity far removed from Biovolt’s chains, Ivanov still thinks in terms of efficiency, control, and sacrifice. He struggles to believe in “free” choices or affection without cost.

Even after years, this doesn’t disappear.

He still has serious trouble understanding social norms:

He thanks people mechanically;

He doesn’t understand when someone is offended by his coldness;

He doesn’t perceive implicit emotional expectations;

Emotional subtext goes unnoticed — if something isn’t said explicitly, he doesn’t assume it (he’s probably missed a few flirtations here).

When it comes to kindness and hospitality, it throws him off:

He immediately feels indebted and tries to “pay it back” quickly;

He has asked for the price and didn’t understand how that could be rude (but he keeps gifts with extreme care, sometimes never using them so they won’t wear out).

In social settings overall, he’s polite (sometimes not so much), but above all, rigid. Yuriy learned the world like a technical manual. On top of that, he has a tendency to be so dense that he unsettles even his teammates, especially Boris and Ivan. This leads to some hilarious — and slightly concerning — situations.

Kai Hiwatari in the equation:

Unlike Yuriy, Kai is taken to the Abbey by his own grandfather. He doesn’t choose anything — he is chosen as a resource. It’s an intimate betrayal, not an institutional one. And that’s devastating on a different level.

Kai grows up with more existential beliefs:

Blood ties are the first thing he learns — they don’t mean protection;

Declared love does not prevent violence;

Family can be the greatest predator (and here I’m assuming the anime version of Kai, who didn’t know / didn’t have contact with his parents).

Control is something he vehemently rejects — not just physical pain, but the idea of being owned, used, or redefined. He takes autonomy as an absolute value. He doesn’t accept guardianship, doesn’t accept “it’s for your own good”; any attempt at control is a trigger (see his reaction when Mr. D offers Kai a spot on the Bladebreakers team…).

He uses silence as resistance, learning not to react — not merely out of coldness, but because reaction feeds the executioner. This becomes a fracture in his very foundation:

“If my own blood did this, no one is trustworthy.”

That belief only strengthens once he learns that a family can be loving (see Tyson and his grandfather), but that realization also brings confusion and frustration.

So it’s not surprising that he’s extremely reserved. He’s probably incapable of asking for help without feeling threatened and is extremely careful with bonds (I can only think of Kai’s face when Max first reached out his hand, lmao).

On the other hand, by fleeing the Abbey — even in the way it happened — Kai learned a great deal from the world. He likely has a traveler’s side, not on Rei’s level, but enough that he understands far better how to deal with people than Yuriy did as a child (he simply ignores most of that implicit nonsense).

When they start working together for the first time, Kai is probably stunned by Ivanov’s lack of tact — which must have earned a few looks from the others like, “yeah, that’s just how he is.” There was definitely a lot of headache involved, many moments where Kai pinches the bridge of his nose to keep from losing it and takes over certain tasks to avoid catastrophic events and the loss of one or two sponsors.

(“Seriously, how did you get this far with this shi-- behavior?!”)

At some point, Kai just understands that Yuriy was raised differently — he infers that from the place where he himself was raised, even if he doesn’t remember much of it. Deep down, he genuinely tries to be understanding, but he’s not very good at it, so he just shows how it’s done bluntly and expects Yuriy to copy it. There are arguments along the way, and some wounds get reopened from time to time — because they’re just teenagers in the end and don’t know how to deal with differences.

In moments where the two have to truly deal with each other, I can imagine that:

Yuriy may see Kai as ungrateful or reckless.

Kai may see Yuriy as complicit or complacent.

Ironically, I don’t really see them as rivals, but as sharing a kind of grief.

This behavior is certainly more pronounced toward the general public, ordinary people. There are few moments when they step out of that shell — either when they find a space where they can be themselves (by which I mean freedom and intimacy), or moments when they let some level of excitement slip through, such as bey battles or whatever risky nonsense they decide to try.

In summary, I’d say both are pragmatic, but Yuriy had to break through the social rigidity caused by an oppressive environment. Kai, on the other hand, always had a rebellious streak and, despite always being alone, had contact with a greater diversity of people earlier on — but his way of interacting turned into caution disguised as distrust.

To make matters worse, not everyone could see them, but anyone could be affected by the consequences.

Explosions, discharges, structural damage, energy fluctuations. All of these began appearing in international reports without any acceptable explanation. Several authorities started classifying these phenomena as “technical anomalies” or “electrical failures,” but internally they knew they had no technology capable of dealing with it.

At the same time, the Russian government inherited the ruins of Biovolt. Among those ruins were:

Abandoned laboratories with remnants of bit-beast technology;

Files on experiments and affiliated cells;

Facilities that couldn’t simply be shut down, because things inside them were still alive or active.

The problem was that the government couldn’t contain these outbreaks on its own. Conventional teams were ineffective — how do you fight something that few can see? Russia needed specialists, and the BBA needed a way to protect the world from collateral damage that was becoming more and more frequent.

Mr Dickenson came to the conclusion no one wanted to admit:

“If Biovolt created monsters, we need those who grew up inside it to contain them.”

He realized that Neoborg already had real experience with bit-beasts, sacred and synthetic alike. Its veterans (Kai, Yuriy, Bryan, Sergei, and Ivan) were among the few individuals with enough connection and perception to deal with them, and dissolving the team — considering the threat of closure due to lack of funding and sponsors, and the fact that Neoborg itself was already resigned to retirement — would be wasting the only group with practical knowledge of threats of that nature.

It was Mr. Dickenson who proposed the solution: to turn the old elitist Biovolt center into a public sports institute, while its underground section would be maintained as a special containment force.

In discreet conversations with Russian officials, he argued that:

Neoborg would gain legitimacy and international security;

Russia would have internal control and protection to deal with the dangers it had “inherited.”

To complete it, Mr. Dickenson was driven by a personal and ethical motivation:

The Civil Layer - the façade

This part functions like an elite school mixed with a training center. It’s where you’d see young athletes training with coaches; laboratories developing blades and experimental parts; teachers instructing in mechanics, physics, tactics, first aid; genuinely normal environments (dorms, cafeteria, courts, workshops). Sometimes core team members (Yuriy & co.) show up and take part in joint activities.

The official goal is to train excellent players, engineers, and competitors. And yes, this actually happens — most of the current junior teams compete for slots in local or world championships, even for bench positions on the main team. The organization already has plans to develop its successor lineup. Many young people in the “civil layer,” however, never discover what exists beyond the corridors marked with security doors.

Up to this point, everything looks normal, even inspiring.

The Hidden Layer - the real Neoborg

This layer is used by the Russian government and by multilateral agreements as a rapid-response unit for high-risk situations. This includes:

Incidents involving experimental technology;

Creatures or “corrupted ferals” born from Biovolt-era experiments;

Biotechnological threats;

Disappearances linked to the corporation’s former structures;

Structural failures in secret facilities;

Recon missions regarding unmapped sites or semi-independent cells still active.

Therefore, Neoborg became a mix of elite training center, advanced laboratory, and special team deployed into missions no one is allowed to know exist.

Only veterans enter this layer: the very few who are psychologically and physically capable of handling it, and of carrying the emotional weight of knowing what really happened in Biovolt’s past. Some may have had direct contact with Biovolt, others not.

Neoborg was rebuilt in a deliberately strategic way: officially, it operates under the solid and respectable international cover provided by the BBA, while the Russian government serves as its political sponsor, ensuring the necessary layers of secrecy for its operations. Regional security units also play their silent part by choosing not to see what shouldn’t be seen. And through its sports façade — with young people coming and going, constant tournaments, and a steady flow of seemingly harmless activity — the institution preserves a sense of impeccable legitimacy, raising no suspicion.

In summary, the vibe is this:

Post-canon Neoborg is an institution with two lives:

Upstairs: students training, coaches correcting, labs full of revolutionary pieces.

Underground: teams preparing for operations no one should know still exist, risk reports, corridors hiding the kind of secret that always comes back to haunt someone.

And everyone is overworked, lmao ✨✨

It’s an environment full of memories — painful ones — and at the same time something entirely new that everyone is, somehow, trying to make work. So there are many trial-and-error situations involved.

Extra: