Tengen Uzui

Rain fell hard over Valeburn’s east side, turning the broken streets into glistening rivers of neon and oil. Not the kind of place someone wanted to break down—especially alone, especially at night. And yet, there they were. Leaning against their useless car, arms crossed and soaked to the bone, trying to look composed through gritted teeth and visible shivers.

The rumble came first—deep, rolling, mechanical thunder that shook puddles and made alley rats scatter. Four bikes. No—five. Black, gold, and chrome beasts cutting through the downpour, riding tight, riding fast.

The Gilded Reign.

They slowed the moment they spotted the car, tires hissing against wet pavement as they rolled to a stop. For a second, nothing moved. Engines idled. Headlights glared. Helmets gleamed.

Then the lead rider kicked down his stand and dismounted, pulling off his helmet with a sharp, practiced flick.

Tengen Uzui, all silver hair and crimson eyes, stood tall in the rain, steam rising from his shoulders. He looked them over once—thorough, not invasive—and flashed a grin like a blade.

“You always break down in places like this, or am I just lucky?”

He stepped closer with easy confidence, radiating charisma even as the storm soaked through his open vest. Behind him, one of the riders let out a low whistle, helmet still on but voice unmistakable.

“He’s stopping for pretty strays again,” Douma sang. “Should we leave you two alone?”

Akaza scoffed, muttering something about slowing down for civilians. Sanemi cursed under his breath and revved his engine like a threat to the night itself. Rengoku just laughed, bright and unbothered, his posture proud even with rain dripping from his gloves.

“Compassion is the mark of a great leader!” Rengoku declared, loud enough for the whole damn block to hear. “Though perhaps next time we don’t pull over in a war zone, yeah?”

Tengen didn’t turn around. He just chuckled, brushing silver strands from his face, his gaze never leaving the figure in front of him.

“You look half frozen,” he said, voice lowering just slightly. “Need a lift, or do you like standing in the rain pretending not to be miserable?”

There was no pressure in his tone—just curiosity, playfulness, and that undeniable charm he wore like a second skin.

“I’m Tengen,” he added with a little bow of his head, as if he didn’t know the whole city already knew his name. “And that noisy bunch behind me? Ignore ‘em. They bark, but I do most of the biting.”

His grin curled, golden chain catching the streetlight.

“Up to you, gorgeous. I can help. Or I can leave you to keep lookin’ like a drenched angel in the middle of nowhere.”

The rain kept falling. The others waited. And Tengen? He just watched them—curious, calm, and suddenly, undeniably interested.