THE WHISPERS NEVER GOT EASIER.

Hayden could feel their stares, hear the hushed voices as she passed. It had been three days, and still, they acted like she was some kind of freak show. She kept her earbuds in, pretending she didn't notice. But she did. She always did.

When she made eye contact with a group of students by their lockers, they shut up immediately, awkwardly dispersing like cockroaches when the lights came on. Hayden narrowed her eyes but kept walking.

It pissed her off.

By the time she walked into AP Math, her mood was already bad. She barely had a chance to sit down before her teacher, Ms. Calloway, called her name.

"Miss Sanders, do you have a minute?"

Hayden sighed, pushing out of her seat and following the teacher into the hallway. She crossed her arms, already dreading whatever conversation was about to happen.

Ms. Calloway gave her a tight but polite smile. "So, I noticed you're a little behind on assignments."

Hayden scoffed lightly. "No, for real?" She responded sarcastically, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

It wasn't like she'd missed almost three months of school now.

Ms. Calloway gave her a pointed look but continued. "I figured you might need some extra help catching up. So, I arranged for a tutor."

Hayden tensed. "No, thanks."

"Someone's already volunteered."

Hayden rolled her eyes. "Who?"

As if on cue, Miguel walked up, smiling like this was the best news ever. "Hey."

Hayden stared at him. Then at Ms. Calloway. Then back at him.

She gave a humorless laugh, shaking her head. It was convenient, she had to give Miguel the credit for it. She hadn't realized how sneaky he could be.

"No," she said flatly, the smile dropping from her face.

Ms. Calloway clasped her hands together. "Miguel was more than happy to volunteer. He's one of my top students, and he's willing to meet with you after school."

"Of course he is," Hayden muttered under her breath.

Miguel didn't lose his smile. "It's not a big deal. I can meet you in the library, or wherever you want."

Hayden huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. "You seriously think I'm gonna sit and do math with you?"

"You seriously think you're gonna pass without my help?" Miguel shot back, still way too damn cheerful.

Hayden clenched her jaw. She knew she needed the help. And she hated that.

"I'd rather fail than sit and do math with you." She spat out bitterly, eyes narrowed in his direction. "I'll take anyone else's help. Even the kid who has lice."

Ouch. Miguel knew this wasn't going to be easy. And he knew what he was getting into when he volunteered to help Hayden. She didn't trust him anymore, and it was his fault.

But that only pushed him to claw his way back in. He'd did it before and he'd do it again. No matter how long it takes. And no matter how many cold, bitter insults she threw at him.

"Unfortunately, most students are booked and busy already. Miguel even moved things around just to be able to fit you in his schedule," She shoot Miguel a bright smile. It was clear Miguel had Mrs. Calloway wrapped around his finger. "I think you should be grateful to Miguel, Miss Sanders."

Hayden scoffed, "Yeah, right."

Hayden had to remind herself that this was the deal after all. Pass your classes and graduate or pay the fines. Which was out of the question.

Ms. Calloway gave her an expectant look. "I think this is a good solution, don't you?"

Hayden exhaled sharply, like it almost physically pained her to agree. It kinda did anyway. "Fine. Whatever."

"Great." Miguel grinned. "See you after school."

Hayden glared at him as he walked back into class, feeling the migraine already forming.

This was gonna suck.

—

The library smelled like dust and old books.

She looked around, gripping her backpack strap and rolling her eyes at the sight of Miguel with his textbooks sprawled out, notebooks, and a calculator ready for her use.

She wordlessly approached him, slumping down in the seat across from him and dropping her backpack next to her, not even making an attempt at breaking the silence.

"Hello to you, too." Miguel chuckled, looking the girl up and down in amusement.

Most people would be discouraged at the obvious fact that Hayden wanted to do with them. But Miguel wasn't.

And Hayden hated that.

"Let's get this over with." She huffed, tying her hair up into a ponytail.

Miguel flipped through a few pages, then tapped a section with his pen. "Alright. You're behind on quadratic equations, logarithms, and pretty much everything else."

Hayden rolled her eyes. "Yeah, no shit."

Miguel ignored her attitude, like he always did. He turned the notebook toward her. "So, let's start—"

She didn't even blink. "Let's start with why the hell you signed up for this."

Miguel chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "You always this hostile when someone tries to help you?"

Hayden leaned back, crossing her legs, expression still blank. "Only when I don't need it."

Miguel raised a brow. "Could've fooled me. Pretty sure you were about to fail out of AP Math."

Hayden said nothing, just flicked her gaze to the page in front of her. It was true, but that wasn't the point. The point was him. Sitting here. Like this. Like there wasn't an entire war between them. Like he didn't hate her.

No—like he never could.

Miguel tapped the worksheet. "Come on. Just let me help. You don't even have to talk, just—"

"You tell Sam about this?"

Miguel's fingers paused mid-tap. It was subtle, but she caught it. His hesitation. That little flicker in his expression.

"No," he said, too careful. "Why would I?"

Hayden tilted her head, studying him. "Because she'd love to hear about how you—Miyagi-Do's golden boy—are spending your afternoons tutoring me."

Miguel exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a small smirk, like she was being ridiculous. But she saw the way he looked at her. Like she wasn't just some enemy. Like she wasn't just Cobra Kai.

And that was the problem.

Because she was.

"Sam doesn't decide who I can and can't tutor." He murmured quietly.

She let the silence stretch, watching him, watching the way he was always so open, so obvious.

Hayden glanced at the problem he wrote out.

(x² + 5x + 6 = 0)

She stared at it for a second, then back at him. "You seriously think I remember anything from before I left?"

Miguel let out a small laugh. "Fair point. Okay, I'll walk you through it."

He started explaining, writing step by step, while Hayden sat back, arms still crossed. She let him talk, but she wasn't really listening— at least, not on purpose. She just watched him, noticing the way his brows furrowed slightly as he worked through the problem. How he was annoyingly patient, even when she didn't say anything back.

"—so once you have the factors, you set them equal to zero and solve for x." He looked up. "Make sense?"

Hayden blinked, realizing too late she actually understood most of what he just said. But she wasn't about to admit that.

She shrugged. "I guess."

Miguel smirked, clearly catching on. "You got it. Try the next one."

He slid the notebook toward her. Hayden exhaled sharply, grabbing the pen, and stared at the problem.

She tapped the pen against the table before finally writing something. She made it halfway through before pausing.

Miguel leaned over, resting his arms on the table. "You're close. Just one mistake." He pointed at her work. "Right here."

She looked at where he was pointing, then groaned when she realized he was right. "God, I hate this."

Miguel grinned. "Yeah, well, welcome back to high school."

Hayden shot him a glare but kept working.

They fell into a weird rhythm after that—Miguel explaining, Hayden pretending she wasn't listening, then actually getting it.

By the end of the hour, she'd made it through more problems than she expected.

Miguel closed his notebook. "Not bad, Sanders. You might actually pass."

Hayden scoffed. "You gonna put that on my report card?"

Miguel chuckled, zipping up his bag. "Maybe."

She expected him to leave first, but he hesitated, watching her for a second like he was debating saying something else.

Then, finally—

Miguel watched her, the glow of the cheap café light catching in her hair as she kept her head down, furiously shoving her papers into her bag. He shouldn't care this much. Shouldn't still want her, not after everything. But he did.

"I know you hate this," he said softly, voice careful, like stepping over broken glass. "And me. And I don't blame you for that."

Hayden stilled for half a second before rolling her eyes. "Don't do that," she muttered.

Miguel tilted his head. "Do what?"

She slung her bag over her shoulder, eyes cold as she finally met his. "This." She pointed between them, "I'm not here for closure. Or to soothe your ego. The deal is tutoring. No more, no less."

Silver's words began to echo in her ear. Miguel Diaz is your weakness. It made being near Miguel more difficult than it should be. Like when someone tells you not to focus on something, and suddenly that's all you can focus on.

Maybe that was Silver's plan all along.

Miguel swallowed, but his voice was steady when he said, "I know you. Your better than this."

A bitter smile tugged at her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You used to."

She was already halfway to the door, and something in Miguel panicked.

"Hayden, wait."

She stopped. Didn't turn around, but she stopped, and that was enough to make him keep going.

"I know you don't want me here. I know you don't want my help, and maybe you don't even need it." He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "But I need you to know that I'd do this a hundred times over if it meant being close to you again. For an hour, for five minutes. I don't care. I'll take anything."

Her shoulders stiffened.

"I don't care how much you push me away," Miguel continued, softer this time, like he was afraid the wrong tone might shatter the moment. "I'll keep showing up. I'll keep doing whatever it takes, because I—" He stopped himself. He wouldn't say it. Not yet.

Hayden turned her head just enough for him to see the hesitation in her profile. The way her jaw clenched like she was forcing herself not to soften.

For a second, Miguel let himself hope.

But then, her walls slammed right back up. She turned fully, face blank, unreadable. "That's your problem, Miguel."

And just like that, she was gone.

Miguel sat back, staring at the empty chair across from him.

"Yeah," he whispered to himself. "It is."

—

The sound of fists hitting the training dummy echoed through the dojo, Kenny's heavy breathing sharp between each strike. Hayden stood beside Robby, arms crossed, silent as she processed his words.

"They stole your clothes," she said flatly. "And filmed you in the halls." Her tone was even, but her gaze was sharp, dissecting every detail.

Kenny nodded, frustration twisting his features. "I can't take it anymore. I'm done letting them walk all over me—I'm ready to use my training." He punctuated his words with another punch, harder this time.

Robby exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "And what exactly do you think that's gonna do?"

Kenny spun to face them, fists clenched. "I'll do what you guys did. Kick their asses."

Hayden shifted her weight, eyes flickering toward Robby. Kenny looked up to him like a big brother, but in this moment, she knew neither of them were good role models for conflict resolution.

"I got kicked out of school," Robby said bluntly. "Landed in juvie. You really wanna go down that road?"

Kenny swallowed, his bravado cracking. "I have to do something," he muttered, and Hayden recognized that look in his eyes. Desperation. A cornered animal with no way out.

Her jaw tightened. A part of her wanted to take care of it for him. To find every one of those little punks and make sure they understood, without question, that Kenny Payne was not someone to mess with.

Before she could say anything, Kreese's voice cut through the tension.

"Class, fall in."

Hayden's gaze lingered on Kenny for a second before she turned, falling into line.

Kreese stepped forward, hands behind his back. "Today's lesson is an important one. Isn't that right, Sensei Silver?"

"Yes, it is." Terry's voice carried smoothly over the room. He walked slowly, eyes scanning the students like a predator surveying its prey. "Weakness."

His gaze settled on Hayden.

She didn't flinch.

"Your opponent's weakness must be exploited whenever possible," Kreese continued.

"At the tournament, recognizing that weakness will be the difference between victory and failure." Terry paused, looking over the class before settling on Hayden again. "And make no mistake, we all have one."

"Sensei Kreese doesn't," Tory argued from across the room.

Terry let out a quiet chuckle. "Of course he does. We all do."

Kreese's jaw ticked, his eyes narrowing just slightly. But he said nothing, letting the words hang in the air before turning back to the class.

"Today's goal is simple: find your opponent's weakness and attack it. No points. You hit the mat, you lose. Understood?"

A chorus of nods followed.

"Prepare for combat." Terry clapped his hands once.

Hayden moved to her side of the mat, rolling her shoulders, stretching her arms. Focused. Detached. Ready.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Robby watching her.

"When we get paired up, then what?" he asked, smirking.

She didn't look at him as she adjusted her stance. "Then you'll find out what it feels like to lose."

Robby huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah? We'll see."

Hayden just shook her head with a faint grin.

—

Gasps filled the room as Kenny swept Robby's legs out from under him, sending him hard onto the mat. Silver's lips quirked into a smug grin, marking the score one-nothing in his favor.

Before that, Kreese had won the first match and, confident in his advantage, accepted Silver's double-or-nothing bet. Now, as Robby stared up at the ceiling in shock and Kenny stood victorious, Kreese's jaw tightened.

Hayden, arms crossed, barely reacted. Kenny had surprised her, sure—but she wasn't one to show it. Instead, she committed the moment to memory. The size and strength difference should've worked against him, but he'd adapted. It earned him something rare from her. Respect.

Silver clapped his hands together. "Nichols."

Tory stepped onto the mat, rolling her shoulders, scanning the group. Waiting.

Kreese didn't hesitate. "Sanders."

A few murmurs rippled through the class. Tory and Hayden were at the top—everyone wanted to see how this would play out.

Hayden didn't move at first, her expression unreadable. She knew Tory's weaknesses. She had seen her fight enough times to dissect every flaw. Yet when she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out.

Kreese narrowed his eyes. "Sanders. You know this."

Hayden exhaled through her nose, steadying her breath. "Footwork. Sloppy under pressure. Telegraphs her left kick." Her voice was even, controlled, but there was a weight pressing down on her chest, tightening around her ribs. She hated that hesitation, that moment of uncertainty. Weakness.

Kreese studied her for a second, then said something she didn't expect.

"I believe in you."

Hayden blinked.

"You think Silver doesn't," he continued, voice low but firm. "You think he's waiting for you to fail. Maybe he is. But the only opinion that matters right now is yours. And I know you can do this. Now get it together."

No more words were needed. Hayden gave a single nod, turned, and stepped onto the mat.

She didn't react to the way Silver exhaled sharply, unimpressed. Didn't flinch under Tory's intense gaze. She simply raised her fists, let out a slow breath, and let all the noise fade into nothing.

"Ready!"

Tory barely had time to register the command before Hayden moved. Fast. A roundhouse connected with Tory's jaw, snapping her head sideways.

A sharp inhale from the crowd.

Tory stumbled, touching her cheek, wide-eyed. But Hayden didn't wait. She closed the distance in two strides, throwing a right hook. Tory raised her arm just in time, blocking it, but Hayden seized the opportunity—gripping Tory's wrist, using her momentum to yank her forward, flipping her over her shoulder.

Tory hit the mat hard.

Silver sighed, his expression unreadable, but Kreese smirked.

Hayden extended her hand. No hesitation, no second-guessing. Just a silent, steady offer.

Tory hesitated, blinking up at her. Then, slowly, she took it.

"You good?" Hayden asked, voice calm.

Tory nodded, but her eyes flickered with something else— frustration, curiosity, maybe even respect.

Hayden didn't wait for more. She turned, walking back to her spot, eyes meeting Silver's on the way.

He was already watching her. Amused, assessing.

Hayden smirked just slightly.

—

The gym was empty except for the sound of heavy bags swaying, the dull thuds of punches against them echoing through the dimly lit space. Hayden stood alone in the center of the mat, sweat dripping down her face as she wiped her brow with the back of her hand. Her breath came fast, her legs were burning, but she kept moving—jab, cross, hook, repeat. The routine was automatic.

She couldn't stop. Not now.

From the shadows, Silver's presence was like a chill creeping down her spine. She could feel his eyes on her before she even heard his footsteps. He was always watching, always waiting.

He stepped into the light, the faintest glint of amusement in his cold eyes. "How many hours of training this week?" His voice was low, measured, but there was a certain venom in it that made her pause mid-punch.

Hayden didn't answer right away. She took another swing at the bag, feeling the familiar burn in her muscles. She wasn't in the mood for games. "Five."

"Five hours," he repeated, his voice colder this time. "That's your idea of dedication?"

She didn't respond, though his words landed like daggers. Silver wasn't here for casual chit-chat. He was here to break her down. "It's only Tuesday."

He closed the gap between them with slow, deliberate steps, his eyes never leaving her. "Five hours isn't enough," he said, almost mockingly. "You think you'll get anywhere with that half-assed effort?" His voice lowered to a menacing growl, and she could hear the disdain dripping from his words. "Pathetic."

Hayden stopped mid-swing, the weight of his words sinking into her like a heavy stone. Her fists clenched by her sides, and for a split second, she almost let the anger take over.

He stepped in closer, towering over her, his voice a soft, venomous whisper. "Look at you. You think you're good enough? You think you've got what it takes?" He shook his head slowly, a cold smile spreading across his face. "You're not even close. You're weak."

She stood still, unwilling to meet his gaze. But her body betrayed her—her hands were shaking, her mind racing, all of the self-doubt he'd planted in her over the past few months creeping back to the surface.

Silver could smell it. He knew he had her.

"Tell me," he continued, his tone like a sharpened knife. "How many hours will it take for you to be good enough?" He scoffed. "A hundred? A thousand? It doesn't matter. Because no matter how much time you put in, you'll never catch up. Not to me. Not to anyone else who's actually committed."

Her heart pounded in her chest as he loomed over her, his words wrapping around her like chains, squeezing tighter and tighter with every sentence. "Five hours isn't even enough to be mediocre. And you're barely even that."

A small part of her fought back, her pride flaring up like a last-ditch defense. "I don't need your approval." The words tasted bitter in her mouth, but they were all she could manage.

Silver's eyes narrowed. "You don't think so?" He leaned in closer, his breath cold against her ear. "You think you're better than the rest of these kids? That you're somehow special?" He laughed softly; a sound full of derision. "You're nothing. You're just another wannabe. Nichols fights ten times better than you."

The words stung. They cut deeper than she would ever admit. She had always prided herself on her resilience, her ability to push through the toughest situations. But the way he spoke to her—like she was nothing—made her question everything she'd ever believed about herself.

"Five hours," Silver repeated, shaking his head. "That's all you've got? You'll never make it with that mentality. You'll always be second-rate." He took a step back, giving her space to breathe, but it felt suffocating.

Hayden swallowed hard, trying to push down the knot forming in her throat. She didn't want to show him weakness. She couldn't let him see that he had a hold on her. But she felt it, deep down, gnawing at her, eating away at everything she'd built.

He was right. Maybe she wasn't good enough.

His laughter was mocking, almost cruel. "You're supposed to be a fighter. But all I see is someone who can't even take a little criticism."

She turned away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her crack.

His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with startling force. "You're going to walk away now?" he asked, his voice dark and dangerous. "You're going to run from the truth?"

Hayden felt the heat of his grip as he jerked her back, spinning her to face him. His cold stare bore into her, pinning her in place.

"Get stronger," he said, his words laced with venom. "Prove me wrong. If you can."

Her pulse pounded in her ears as she stared at him, her hand still caught in his grip. For a brief moment, she felt small, insignificant. But then—something inside her snapped.

Hayden's pulse was racing now. She wanted to scream, to lash out at him for all the pain he was making her feel, but she stayed silent, her fists pounding rhythmically against the bag. But the truth was, his words were creeping under her skin, gnawing at her like a poison.

"I'll be back later," she said, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside her. "And I'll train harder."

Silver gave a short laugh, as if he'd already won. "You'll come back. But you won't be able to handle it. Because you're not enough. You never will be." His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, and then he took a step back. "Go ahead. Keep pretending you're getting better. But remember this moment." His words hung in the air like smoke, thick and suffocating. "Because this is the closest you'll ever come to being anything more than a failure."

With that, he turned and walked out of the gym, his presence fading as the door clicked shut behind him.

Hayden stood still for a moment, her chest heaving as she processed everything he'd said. She wanted to let it go, to move on, to prove him wrong. But for the first time in a long while, she felt a flicker of doubt creeping in. Was he right? Was she just wasting her time?

No. She wouldn't let him win. Not like this. Not ever.

She took a deep breath, her hands curling into fists once again. She'd show him. She'd show them all.

But first, she needed to find the strength to break past the doubts he'd planted in her. She wasn't done. Not yet.

—

The dojo was empty.

Dim overhead lights cast long shadows across the mats, stretching out in distorted shapes. The air was thick, carrying the weight of sweat, effort, and something unspoken.

Silver circled Hayden like a predator, his footsteps slow, deliberate.

Hayden stood in the center of the mat, her chest rising and falling steadily despite the way her body ached. Sweat dripped from her chin, her arms, her back—soaked into the fabric of her gi. She had already been here for hours, and she wasn't done. Not even close.

Across from her, Terry Silver paced slowly, watching her like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike. His movements were calculated, effortless. He was barely winded, despite the fact that they had been going at this for what felt like an eternity.

Hayden had trained under Kreese for months. She had fought tougher, stronger opponents. She had pushed herself beyond what most could endure. But Silver was something else entirely.

He didn't just want to make her stronger. He wanted to break her.

"You're slowing down," Silver remarked, his voice smooth but edged with something sharp. Disappointment. "I thought you said you'd do whatever it takes."

Hayden didn't respond. She didn't have to. She took a breath, reset her stance, and charged.

Silver dodged, sidestepping her roundhouse with an ease that made her grit her teeth. He countered immediately—faster than she could track. A palm strike to her shoulder sent her stumbling back, but she caught herself. Adjusted. Came in again.

She threw a sharp right hook, aimed for his jaw, but he was already moving. He blocked it effortlessly, twisted her arm, and used her own momentum to slam her onto the mat.

Pain shot through her spine.

She barely had time to suck in a breath before he was on her again, grabbing her by the gi and hauling her up like she weighed nothing. "Get up."

She shoved him off, staggering back, her fists curling at her sides. Her body wanted to stop, to give in to the exhaustion clawing at her muscles, but she ignored it. She wasn't done.

Silver smirked. "Again."

She attacked with more force, more aggression, refusing to let him control the pace. She faked a high kick, then drove her elbow toward his ribs. It should've landed. It would've, if he weren't so damn fast.

Instead, he caught her wrist, twisted—hard—and kicked her legs out from under her. She hit the mat again, this time on her side, the impact rattling her ribs.

"Get up."

Hayden grit her teeth, forcing herself upright. She adjusted her stance, planting her feet.

Silver smirked. "Again."

They went for hours. No breaks. No pauses. If she hesitated for even a second, he punished her for it. A sweep, a strike, a submission hold tight enough to make her vision blur. He didn't ease up, didn't hold back. His movements were calculated, designed to push her past exhaustion, past pain, past every limit her body tried to set.

He wanted to break her.

She refused to break.

By the end of it, her muscles were screaming. Her body ached in places she didn't even know could hurt. But she was still standing. Knees bruised. Wrists sore. And still—standing.

Silver watched her, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he smiled.

"You're getting there," he mused. "But not yet."

Hayden didn't respond. Didn't need to. She just breathed.

Silver took a step closer, lowering his voice. "You'll thank me when you win."

She didn't thank him.

She just turned back toward the mat, fists tightening, ready to go again.

"Sloppy," Silver tsked, towering over her. "You're too predictable."

Hayden clenched her jaw, her breaths coming fast. Her body ached, every inch of her screaming for relief, but she forced herself up.

Silver tilted his head. "No quitting, huh?"

She glared at him.

His smirk widened. "Good."

Then he pushed harder.

He stopped pulling his strikes, started hitting her with enough force to leave bruises. She blocked when she could, dodged when she had the energy, but he was relentless. A brutal roundhouse to her ribs knocked the air from her lungs. A sweep to her ankle sent her crashing down again.

She refused to stay down.

Pain was temporary.

Weakness wasn't an option.

Silver circled her as she struggled to her feet again, his expression unreadable now. "You think you're tough because you don't give up?" His voice was low, almost taunting. "That's not enough. Pain tolerance isn't the same as strength."

She didn't respond, only wiped the blood from her lip and raised her fists.

Silver moved before she could react, gripping her arm and wrenching it back. Pain flared up her shoulder as he forced her into a submission hold, his grip unyielding.

"Tap out," he murmured.

Her jaw clenched. She struggled against his hold, but he only tightened it, sending another sharp bolt of pain through her arm.

"Tap," he repeated, his voice like steel.

She could feel her muscles straining, her body trembling. But she didn't yield.

Didn't break.

She wrenched herself free, ignoring the way her shoulder screamed in protest, and spun—driving her fist into his ribs with all the force she had left.

It wasn't enough to do damage, but it was enough to make him step back. Enough to make him grin.

"Now we're talking."

Hayden took a breath, steadying herself.

Silver studied her, then let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "You're insane, you know that?"

She rolled her shoulder, feeling the bruises already forming. "Whatever it takes, right?"

His smirk was sharp. "That's what I like to hear."

And then he lunged.

The training continued long into the night, past the point of exhaustion, past the point where anyone else would have quit.

But Hayden Sanders wasn't a quitter.

authors note.

hello from my computer this is kinda messy and all over the place? But its ok, i came up the rest of how szn 4 is gonna go while i was writing

also i went to the dentist today to get fillings (i dont floss i have lots of cavities) IT HURT SO BADDDD