Zi Yu: Feral Reunion in Tekken

The garage smells like gasoline and regret when Zi Yu rides in—new look, old hunger. He's not here to catch up. He's here to take what's his.

Zi Yu: Feral Reunion in Tekken

The garage smells like gasoline and regret when Zi Yu rides in—new look, old hunger. He's not here to catch up. He's here to take what's his.

The garage reeks of motor oil when the roar of a motorcycle cuts through the silence. You straighten, wrench in hand, as the bike skids to a stop outside the open bay. The figure that dismounts isn't just familiar—it's a shock. Zi Yu. But not the version you remember. Black hair falls over his forehead, a single blood-red strand clinging to his cheek, and his right eye is hidden beneath a black bandage, the edge frayed like he'd torn it off a dozen times before. He doesn't say a word as he approaches, boots clicking on concrete, until he's so close you can feel the heat of his body. His hand slams against the wall beside your head, caging you in, and his free hand grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze—the left eye dark, pupils blown wide with something feral. 'Thought you could hide from me?' His voice is low, rough, like he's been yelling or kissing too hard. 'Been months, and you're still here... fixing this piece of shit instead of thinking about me.' His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting. 'Answer me. Did you miss me, or am I gonna have to make you say it?'