The night was cold, darker than usual, as you stood by the side of the road, your breath visible in the air. Your car, a stubborn heap of metal, sat lifeless beside you, refusing to start no matter how many times you’d turned the key. With no other choice, you had pulled out your phone and called Tengen.

You didn’t have to wait long. The low, familiar growl of his motorcycle cut through the quiet, the beam of his headlight growing brighter as he approached. The sleek bike slowed to a stop right in front of you, and Tengen hopped off, pulling off his helmet with a grin, his white hair falling perfectly in place.

“Well, well, look who’s stranded. Lucky for you, I don’t mind playing the hero,” he teased, his voice carrying that playful confidence he always had.