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"ATTENTION ALL SEKAI TAIKAI PARTICIPANTS... the next event will begin in 90 minutes."

The announcement echoed through the locker room, but the Cobra Kai students hardly paid attention. They were too busy bouncing off the walls—quite literally in some cases. Hyperactive energy buzzed in the air, fueled partly by excitement and mostly by the churros they had shamelessly devoured at Las Ramblas after breakfast.

Of course, their churro escapade had been a covert operation. They'd snuck out to dodge their senseis, both of whom had been in spectacularly bad moods.

John Kreese was seething after biting into an apple only to discover a worm squirming inside. He spent the rest of the morning muttering things like, "Disgusting... weak... nature has no place in the dojo," while aggressively peeling every piece of fruit in sight.

Kim Da-eun's day, however, had been even worse. The Italian sensei had called security on her, loudly accusing her of child abuse after overhearing her mid-training when she threatened to break Tory's hand—again—whatever that meant...

Kim's response? "They are my children to abuse!"

It... did not land well. She spent the next hour trying to explain herself to Gunther, the Sekai Taikai chancellor, who looked increasingly horrified with every word. "No, I didn't mean it like that! It's a cultural thing! Back home, this is considered motivational!"

By the time she rejoined the group, Kim's mood could only be described as atomic.

Meanwhile, the students, oblivious to their senseis' suffering, had spent the morning gallivanting through Las Ramblas. Yoon had been double-fisting churros like his life depended on it. Tory dared Kwon to chug an entire horchata in one go (he did, then spent ten minutes trying not to throw up). And Lee? He'd been busy trying to stop Park from climbing a street performer dressed as a human statue, y/n being the cameraman.

Now, back in the locker room, the sugar rush was hitting its peak. Kwon was shadowboxing against his own reflection, while Tory and Yoon debated the proper technique for "pocket sand," a move they were 100% sure Kim would never approve of.

Lee sat on a bench, calmly taping his wrists. "You know," he muttered, glancing at y/n, "if Kim finds out we snuck off, she's going to kill us."

Y/n, doing another handstand against the wall for support, smirked. "If? She's probably already planning our funerals."

Just then, Kreese stormed into the locker room, holding a peeled orange in one hand and glaring like he'd just lost another battle with Mother Nature. "Get in line," he barked, making Park shriek and fall down from the handstand he was doing alongside y/n, and the two of them came tumbling down on the cold, hard floor.

Behind him, Sensei Kim appeared, looking more furious than anyone had ever seen her. Her glare swept over the room, landing on Kwon, who froze mid-stretch.

"Where. Were. You."

The students exchanged nervous glances. 

"Uh... team bonding?" y/n offered with an innocent smile.

Kim's eyes narrowed, but before she could unleash her wrath, the announcement system crackled again:

"ALL PARTICIPANTS REPORT TO THE STAGING AREA IN 60 MINUTES."

"Lucky," Tory muttered under her breath.

Kim sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You have one hour to warm up and prepare. Don't embarrass me out there."

As soon as she and Kreese left, Park let out a breath of relief. "I don't know what's scarier," he whispered, "the Italian sensei or her."

"Her," Tory and y/n said in unison, both deadpan.

With that, the team got back to warming up, though the churro-fueled chaos wasn't going to burn itself off anytime soon.

As they stretched, Lee casually remarked, "Eliminations don't even start until the second round, so by tonight, only eight of the sixteen teams will still be standing."

Tory, who was getting her hair styled by y/n, glanced at him. "Who do you think is going to get eliminated?"

"Hopefully Miyagi-do," Kwon scoffed, not even looking up from his stretching. "So they can stop wasting everyone's time with their pathetic fighting."

Yoon snorted but shook his head. "They're not that bad. Not good, sure, but they've got a couple of decent fighters. Like their female captain... and that Mexican guy."

Y/n, mid-leg stretch, shot him a look. "Miguel's from Ecuador."

"Ecuador, Mexico, same thing—" Yoon started but immediately shut up at her glare. "Fine. Ecuador. Jeez."

Park, who had been unusually quiet, mumbled under his breath, "I hope the Kenyan team stays."

That caught everyone's attention. Tory raised an eyebrow. "Why? Their fighting style doesn't even match ours."

Kwon grinned devilishly, exchanging a knowing look with Yoon. "Yeah, Park, why?" he drawled, leaning over. "Wouldn't happen to have anything to do with their captain, would it? What's her name again? Chauska? Chausika?"

Park's ears turned bright red. "You're saying it wrong," he muttered, focusing way too hard on tying his shoe.

"Ohhh, you mean Chausiku Masai," Yoon chimed in, making his voice sickly sweet. "Park's been spending a lot of quality time with her, hasn't he? What was that I heard her call you? Oh yeah—'quick fingers'.'"

Kwon practically doubled over laughing. "Quick fingers? Please tell me it doesn't mean what I think it means..."

The teasing was relentless. Tory smirked as she joined in. "You know, I heard she calls you 'Park the Panther.'"

"Shut up!" The boy snapped, his face now redder than the apple Kreese purged.

"Is that why you keep sneaking out to the water stations between matches?" Yoon pressed. "You bringing her Gatorade like a good boyfriend?"

"She drinks Powerade," Park mumbled, then immediately regretted it when everyone howled in laughter.

Y/n, trying to hold back her own grin, reached out and patted Park's arm. "Relax, Sun-woo. I doubt Nyumba ya Duma is going anywhere. They're literally called 'The Cheetahs' because of their speed and agility. As long as they're not against us, they should be fine."

Park gave her a grateful, if slightly embarrassed, nod while Kwon and Yoon mimicked her in exaggerated voices.

"Relax, Park. She's not going anywhere."

"They're so fast, Park. Are you sure you'll be able to keep up at nights...?"

Park let out a frustrated groan, tossing his towel at Kwon. Kwon caught it effortlessly, casually wiping the sweat off his forehead before flinging it in Tory's direction. Tory ducked with a smirk, letting the towel sail past her—only for it to land squarely on y/n's face.

The girl froze for a moment, towel in hand, her expression slowly shifting to one of pure indignation. "Are you kidding me?" she snapped, throwing the towel down like it had personally offended her.

"I love you idiots," Park muttered under his breath, his lips twitching into a reluctant grin as the y/h/c-haired girl launched into an impassioned lecture on health and hygiene.

"Do you even know how many germs you're spreading? It's disgusting! I swear, if I get sick—"

Kwon cut her off by raising his arm dramatically and bringing his armpit closer to her. "Relax, I showered yesterday. Smell for yourself!"

Y/n's eyes widened in horror as she yelped and darted away, all while Kwon chased after her with exaggerated movements. Tory leaned against the wall, arms crossed, shaking her head with a laugh. And Yoon began recording the moment in great detail. "I can so become a TikTok billionaire with this..."

Park just sighed. "Why do I even put up with you people?"

"Because you love us, you silly little megamind." Lee replied.

The teasing continued for a little while longer, but it was all in good fun—mostly.

By the time they were done with their antics, the sound of the locker room doors slamming open drew everyone's attention. Senseis Kim and Kreese strode in again with their usual commanding presence. The chatter among the students immediately ceased, replaced by an anticipatory silence.

Kreese, ever the disciplinarian, stepped forward first, his gaze sweeping over the group like a general inspecting his troops. His voice was sharp, deliberate. "Today isn't just another day. Today is about survival. You're not here to eat churros, to laugh, or to waste time. You're here because you're fighters. Predators." He pointed to Tory and then to Kwon. "Predators don't hesitate. They don't show mercy. They strike first, strike hard, and finish the job."

He paused, pacing slowly, letting his words sink in. "When you step onto that mat, remember this: only the strong survive. That mat isn't just where you fight. It's where you prove who you are. Weakness has no place in this dojo. And if I see it, I can guarantee you that none of us will be here for the next round..."

His final words were like a punch to the gut, leaving the students stiff and silent. Kreese turned, gesturing toward Kim as if passing the baton.

Da-Eun, in contrast, stood tall and composed, her piercing eyes meeting each of theirs in turn. She stepped forward, her expression less rigid than usual—almost gentle.

"Sensei Kreese is right," she began, her voice strong yet surprisingly calm. "But today, I don't need to remind you of what it means to fight. I don't need to remind you of what it means to win. You've already shown me."

Her words caught the students off guard. Kim... proud? Was that even possible?

"For years, you've trained harder than any fighters I've ever worked with. You've endured pain, exhaustion, and pressure, and yet you've stood tall. You've satisfied me." She paused, letting those words linger. "And that, children, is not an easy thing to do."

There was a small ripple of disbelief among the students, though no one dared to voice it. Perhaps the Italian Sensei actually managed to drill some humanity into the robotic woman?

Sensei continued, her tone softer, almost motherly. "From this point forward, everything you do must be for yourselves. Not for me. Not for your team. For yourselves. You've earned your place here. Do not settle for less when you are meant to stand at number one."

Her gaze shifted to each student, her voice steady and full of conviction. "Remember this: champions aren't just made in the dojang. They're made in moments like these. When the world is watching. When the stakes are high. You're more than fighters. You're the best. And if you want to stay the best, you'll fight with your heart, your mind, and every ounce of strength you have. Not for me. Not for anyone else. For you."

The room was silent, the weight of her words settling over them. Then, as if compelled by an invisible force, the students slowly bowed. It wasn't the shallow bow of mere obligation; it was deep, reverent, filled with genuine respect and gratitude. For once, they said nothing. No witty comments, no laughter. Just silence and the sound of their breathing.

The depth of their bows spoke louder than words. Kim watched them with an almost imperceptible smile, her sharp edges softened by their silent show of respect. Kreese crossed his arms, nodding approvingly.

As they straightened, their gazes sharper and their postures stronger, it was clear: they weren't just ready. They were unstoppable... as long as Park wasn't up against Chausiku Masai.

Without much fuss, Kim stepped forward, her demeanor commanding yet calm, and began tying each student's belt personally. One by one, she adjusted and secured their belts with precise care, muttering the occasional piece of advice.

"Nichols, tighten your stance when you land a kick."

"Yoon, don't forget to use your height to your advantage."

Each student stood a little taller as she worked, the small act feeling strangely intimate and meaningful. It wasn't often their tough-as-nails sensei offered such gestures, and it left them in awe.

When it was Kwon's turn, he instinctively held up his hands. "Sensei, it's fine. I--"

Before he could finish, Kim smacked his hands away with a sharp thwack. "Did I ask for your permission, Kwon?" she snapped, glaring up at him with raised eyebrows.

The other students burst out laughing, the tension in the room breaking for a moment. Even y/n, standing next in line, couldn't suppress a grin as Kwon's stoic expression faltered.

He sighed, resigned, and let her adjust his belt. "My belt was fine..." he grumbled under his breath, just loud enough for Kim to hear.

The woman ignored him, pulling his belt snugly and giving it an extra tug for good measure. "Your form better be as firm as this knot," she muttered before stepping back.

Kwon adjusted his uniform with a slight mumble, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. The students snickered again, and even Kreese, who had been standing off to the side with his arms crossed, allowed himself a small smirk.

When she finally reached y/n, Kim paused for a moment, adjusting the belt with a care that surprised the girl. "Don't hesitate. Trust yourself," she murmured quietly, just for the girl to hear. y/n nodded, her resolve strengthening.

With everyone ready, Da-eun stepped back to assess them. "Good. Now remember what I said," she instructed, her voice firm but not harsh. "Everything you do from this moment on is for survival. Don't disappoint me—or yourselves."

The students bowed again, their collective energy buzzing as they prepared for the arena.

Tonight would determine the fate of the team.

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