"I'VE BEEN WORKING ON TRUSTING MORE SINCE OUR LAST SESSION."

Hayden sat across from Dr. Morgan, her fingers tapping lightly against the arm of the chair. It wasn't anxious tapping—not really. It was more like contained energy, like she had so much she wanted to say but didn't know where to start.

Dr. Morgan gave her a small smile. "That's great to hear. Tell me about it."

Hayden exhaled, sitting up a little straighter. "Well, for starters—I made it. To the final six."

Dr. Morgan's brows lifted slightly. "For the Sekai Taikai?"

Hayden nodded, and she didn't even try to suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. "Yeah. I did it."

Dr. Morgan mirrored her expression. "That's incredible, Hayden. Congratulations."

"Thanks." Hayden tucked her hands between her knees, exhaling. "It's—this is huge. The competition is going to be televised worldwide, and winning could open up doors for all of us. Scholarships, sponsorships... I could actually do something with this. Make a name for myself."

She hesitated for a second before adding, softly, "Make something for Logan too."

Dr. Morgan tilted her head slightly, listening.

Hayden cleared her throat. "I've been talking to her more. I know she's been struggling with the her new job , and if I do well at the Sekai Taikai, maybe I can bring in opportunities for both of us. I don't know. It just feels... possible, you know?"

Dr. Morgan nodded. "That's a big step. Letting someone in, thinking beyond just yourself."

Hayden shrugged, but there was no denying the warmth settling in her chest. "I've been working on that. Letting people in. Leaning on them instead of just dealing with everything alone. Miguel, Robby, Logan... even Sam and Tory, to a degree. I'm—" She hesitated before forcing herself to admit it. "I'm letting myself trust them."

Dr. Morgan studied her carefully. "And how does that feel?"

Hayden thought about it for a moment.

How it felt when Robby reassured her, when Miguel pulled her into training like it was second nature, when Logan listened even when she didn't have all the answers. How it felt when Sam and Tory stood beside her instead of against her.

"It feels... easier," she admitted. "Like I actually don't have to carry everything alone."

Dr. Morgan smiled. "That's because you don't. It's so much easier to lean on the people and trust them, let them in. Trusting doesn't always equal betrayal, Hayden."

Hayden huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "You'd think I would've figured that out sooner."

Dr. Morgan leaned forward slightly. "Sometimes, we have to go through the worst of it to realize we don't have to do it alone. The important thing is—you're learning. You're growing."

Hayden bit the inside of her cheek, nodding. "Yeah. I guess I am. I see you one last time before I leave to Spain, though, so I'll let you know if my life completely crumbles apart before then." She joked.

Dr. Morgan smiled, but there was a knowing look in her eyes. "And how's the sleep?"

Hayden's expression faltered. Just for a second.

Dr. Morgan caught it immediately. "Hayden."

Hayden sighed, rolling her shoulders back. "It's... not great. But I'm handling it."

Dr. Morgan gave her a look. "Handling it or ignoring it?"

Hayden stayed quiet.

Dr. Morgan exhaled, but she didn't push. Not today. Instead, she sat back. "We'll come back to that. But for now, I'm proud of you. I know how much work this has taken, and I don't want you to overlook that."

Hayden smiled because she realized something else.

She had heard more and more people told her they were proud of her in the last couple of days than she's ever heard in the last couple of years.

—

Hayden walked through the parking lot of the building, a permanent smile etched on her face.

It felt like things were finally falling into place. Like she could finally breathe again.

She wasn't so angry at the world anymore.

She continued to walk through the parking lot, looking down at her wrist. She stretched it around, flexing her fingers continuously and realized it didn't hurt that bad anymore.

It was finally starting to heal.

She had been lost in thought, but not too lost to the point where she couldn't hear the footsteps trailing behind her.

Heavy. Distinct. A man's footsteps.

The air shifted.

She clenched her jaw, fingers instinctively sliding down her sleeve, flicking open the pocket knife she always carried.

One swift turn, one sharp swing—

And her wrist was caught mid-air.

A rough hand gripped it, stopping her blade in its tracks.

Her breath hitched.

Kreese.

The smirk on his face was almost amused. "You've been training."

Hayden yanked her wrist back, stepping away, eyes darting around the empty lot. No witnesses. No backup.

Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to stay still. "What the hell are you doing here?" Her voice was cold, even. She wouldn't let him see her rattle.

Kreese adjusted his stance like he had all the time in the world. "Checking in on my champ."

Hayden scoffed. "I'm not your anything."

He let out a breath of laughter, like she had just told a joke. "Still got that fire. Good. You're gonna need it."

Her fingers curled tighter around the handle of the knife. "Cops are looking for you."

Kreese tilted his head. "I'm not that easy to find." His eyes flickered over her, taking her in like a soldier assessing his best fighter. "But you already knew that."

Hayden clenched her jaw. "What do you want?"

He took a step closer. "I want you to come fight for me again."

Hayden stiffened.

He caught it immediately, his smirk widening.

"I saw you out there," he continued. "Heard about the final six. You could run circles around the rest of them. And yet..." His gaze dropped, landing on the Miyagi-Do gi sticking out of her bag.

His smirk disappeared.

"You're wearing that?" His voice darkened.

Hayden pressed her lips into a firm line, but she didn't move to hide the gi.

Kreese exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You really think they're ever going to let you shine there?" His eyes pinned her in place. "You think LaRusso and Johnny see you the way they see her? They'll always choose her over you."

She didn't have to ask who her was.

Kreese took another step forward. "You were a champion with me. A fighter. The best I ever trained." His voice was smooth, coaxing. "And yet, you let them put you in the background. Let them mold you into what? A second choice?"

Hayden's fingers dug into her palm, breath uneven.

He saw it. Pounced on it.

"You don't belong in the background, Hayden." His voice lowered. "With me, you lead. With them, you'll always be standing behind someone else."

She didn't realize how hard she was clenching her fists until she felt her nails bite into her skin.

The words hit where they weren't supposed to.

Not because she believed them.

But because for a split second, she almost did.

Kreese's gaze didn't waver. Calculating. Waiting.

"I don't just want you," he continued smoothly. "I want you and Tory. My two best fighters. You two together? Unstoppable."

Hayden let out a breath of laughter, shaking her head. "You're out of your damn mind."

Kreese ignored the bite in her voice, his expression unreadable. "This isn't about Cobra Kai anymore. This is about survival." He took another step forward, his presence suffocating. "And you and I both know you're a survivor."

Hayden's hands curled into fists, her nails almost puncturing skin. "Yeah? Is that what I was doing on that mat?" Her voice sharpened, venom lacing each word. "Surviving?"

Kreese stilled.

Hayden took a step forward, tilting her chin up, refusing to let her voice shake.

"When Silver was throwing me around like a rag doll, when he was kicking the shit out of me, where were you?"

His jaw tensed.

"You were right there. Watching." Her breathing grew uneven. "You let it happen."

Kreese's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes.

Hayden scoffed, shaking her head. "You don't give a damn about me. You never did. You just want to use me again."

She could still feel the stone beneath her fists. The sharp snap of Silver's voice in her ear. The way she hit the ground over and over again, waiting for it to end.

And Kreese had stood there. Silent.

She exhaled, stepping back. "Miyagi-Do is where I belong."

Kreese's smirk was slow, deliberate. Like he was expecting that.

"Then why are you still listening to me?" His voice was quiet, taunting.

Hayden felt her pulse hammer in her ears.

She turned on her heel and walked away. Fast.

Because if she didn't leave now, a part of her feared he'd be right.

—

Hayden stretched her right hand over her body, keeping her face straight.

Ever since Kreese's visit, everything seemed to set her off. It wasn't just irritation—it was this deep, simmering feeling under her skin, like a fuse had been lit, and she was waiting for the explosion.

"They'll always choose her over you."

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stay present.

Sam and Tory eyed her, glancing at each other. "So, Hayden.." Sam began casually, rolling her wrists out. "Do you always show up an hour early?"

Hayden looked between the two, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Yeah. Why?"

"Why?" Sam then asked.

Hayden shrugged, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Helps me focus. I get an extra hour of training in before everyone. I need to be focused in the Sekai Taikai if we want to win. And I want to win. Badly."

Tory looked at Sam, and they both nodded. "Yeah, cool."

Then Miguel, Demetri, and Eli joined them on the sparring deck, stretching with the girls.

"I heard Aisha got into UC Santa Cruz," Sam said, breaking the silence as they stretched.

Hayden nodded, rolling her neck out. "Yeah, I saw. Texted her congrats."

"You heard anything from Stanford?" Sam turned to Miguel.

Hayden caught the way his shoulders stiffened just before he sighed.

"No. I've been checking my emails, like, every day, but nothing." His voice was quieter than usual, the usual spark of confidence dimmed.

"Hey, don't stress. It'll come. I mean, Demetri hasn't heard from MIT yet, so..." Eli shrugged.

"Yeah, I did." Demetri said flatly.

All eyes snapped to him.

"I got in."

"What?"

"Well, yeah. Why are you all so surprised? I worked my ass off and earned that spot. That would be like LeBron James getting turned down by the Lakers." He made a fake basketball shot.

"Good thing humility isn't a factor when applying." Hayden scoffed, cracking her knuckles.

Sam smiled. "Congratulations, Demetri. It's a really hard school to get into."

"Yeah. It certainly is. Especially when you don't apply. Right, Eli?"

Eli exhaled, clearly over it. Hayden caught the glance he sent her, and she just shrugged, waving him off.

"Drop it," she muttered.

Demetri lifted his hands. "I'm just saying—you miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take."

"All right, circle up." Daniel's voice cut through the chatter, making them straighten.

"The Sekai Taikai needs our final roster in three days. Now that we know who's going, it's time for us to name our male and female captains. The captains are not just the leaders of the team—they're the ones who will be fighting in the finals if we make it that far."

Johnny stepped forward, nodding. "Plus, they get to fight on live TV. Who knows what comes after that? Wheaties boxes, chop-socky flicks, ZZ Top videos. Sky's the limit."

Hayden inhaled slowly, forcing herself to focus.

"It's unbiased."
"They'll choose the best fighter."
"It won't be like before."

"You'll all get the glory if we win," Daniel continued, "but, yes, the captains will be in the spotlight. They need to represent the best that Miyagi-Do has to offer. And Sensei Lawrence and I want to assure you that the decision will be completely unbiased."

Hayden wanted to believe that.

"That's right," Johnny added. "In two days, Sam, Tory, and Hayden will face each other for the female captain spot. And Miguel and Robby will face each other for the male captain spot."

Hayden missed the sharp glance Miguel and Robby sent each other.

"We all know you fought plenty of times before," Daniel said, "but now that we're on the same side, this is still the best way for us to see who's progressed the most."

She didn't let herself react. Didn't let herself feel that same bitterness creeping in.

She just tightened the tape around her knuckles, setting her jaw.

"All right, enough talking," Johnny clapped his hands together. "It's time to train. You five, get inside. I'm gonna whip your butts into shape."

Hayden exhaled sharply. And followed.

She had survived Johnny's training. Barely.

Dodging beer bottles from a pitching machine, hitting the foreign dummy so hard the fence behind it collapsed, performing Johnny's idea of kata—which was really just him calmly narrating cutthroat fighting tactics like an action movie director.

Physically, she was fine. Mentally? She was all over the place.

She kept replaying Kreese's words in her head, the way he had looked at her, like he already knew what she was thinking before she did.

"They'll always prefer Sam."
"You'll never shine there like you would with me."
"You can be the best, Hayden. But only if you fight for the right side."

It pissed her off. Because she knew what he was doing. And yet, it still got under her skin.

By the time training ended, she felt wired. Restless.

"So," Robby slid into step next to her as they left the dojo, hands tucked in his pockets. "Since Miguel got to train with you yesterday, does that mean today's my turn?"

She blinked, snapping out of it.

A smirk twitched at her lips. "Didn't realize I had a schedule to keep."

Robby huffed a small laugh but didn't miss the way her jaw was a little too tight. How her fingers kept tugging at the tape around her wrist.

He nudged her arm lightly. "Alright, spill. What's up?"

Hayden hesitated, looking at Robby before spilling.

She exhaled sharply. "Kreese saw me today."

That wiped the amusement from his face immediately.

He stopped walking, turning fully toward her. "What?"

She met his stare, expression unreadable. "I was leaving therapy. He was waiting for me in the parking lot."

Robby's fists curled. "Are you serious?"

"He wants me to fight for him again." Hayden folded her arms across her chest, her voice steady, controlled. "Told me that Miyagi-Do will never let me shine. That I'll always be second to Sam."

Robby's jaw clenched. "You know that's bullshit."

She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "I know. I know what he's trying to do, Robby. But..." She hesitated, voice lower now. "What if he's right?"

Robby's gaze softened, but there was no hesitation in his response.

"He's not."

She wanted to believe him.

She really did.

Hayden glanced away, kicking at a loose rock on the pavement. "I just... I don't want anyone thinking I'm betraying Miyagi-Do. Can you keep this between us?"

Robby stared at her for a long moment before nodding. "Yeah. I won't say anything."

A beat of silence passed between them.

Then—quietly, almost cautiously—

"This tournament... It's everything." Her voice was softer now. "College isn't exactly an option for me. But this?" She swallowed. "This could change everything. I don't want it to be tainted again like in the All Valley."

Robby's expression shifted, something almost unreadable in his eyes. Because he understood. More than anyone else ever could.

He nodded, voice low. "I know."

Because it was the same for him.

They were the only two who could really, truly relate to what this tournament meant.

Not just winning. Not just proving themselves.

But a way out.

A way to something bigger.

A way to a future neither of them thought they'd ever have.

Hayden exhaled, her voice firm but carrying a quiet urgency. "This is it for us. College isn't an option, but this? This can take us places we've never even imagined."

Robby watched her closely, taking in the way her eyes gleamed with determination. But more than that, he heard the shift in her words. Us. Not just her. Not just him. For so long, Hayden had been all about survival, about standing on her own, keeping people at arm's length. But now? Now, she was letting him in.

The way she said it so freely made him smile. He nodded, that same determination settling in his chest. "Those team captain spots are ours for the taking. If we train together, we've got it locked down. It'll be us on the podium."

Hayden smirked, nodding. "Exactly." She let out a slow breath, looking down at her feet for a second before glancing back up at him. There was something softer in her eyes now, like the weight of everything wasn't crushing her for once. "Can we do it tomorrow? We can train, sharpen up our skills before the big fight?"

Robby hesitated for just a second, something flickering behind his eyes. He didn't want to wait—he wanted more moments like this, wanted to hold onto this new us she was giving him. But he also wasn't about to push.

He forced himself to nod. "Sure. I'll hold you to it."

Hayden grinned, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "You better."

She turned, walking off, and Robby watched her go, a small smile still tugging at the corner of his lips. Because whether she realized it or not, she had already given him something more important than a fight.

She had given him hope.

—

Hayden pulled out the keys to her apartment, her mind still running on autopilot from the day's events. But just as she was about to unlock the door, the sight of someone lingering by the entrance made her pause.

Her first instinct was to brace herself. Was it Kreese again?

No.

He was younger than Kreese, but still older—probably in his late thirties, maybe early forties. His posture was stiff, like he wasn't sure if he should be standing there at all.

She narrowed her eyes, subtly curling her fists at her sides, ready for anything. "Can I help you?" Her voice was firm, unwavering.

The man turned at the sound, and when his gaze landed on her, something in his face shifted.

Shock. Recognition.

Like he was staring at something impossible.

Hayden stiffened, already hating whatever this was. "Who are you?"

He blinked, his mouth opening slightly like he had something to say—but then he caught himself. He let out a breathy chuckle instead, glancing to the side like he needed to collect himself. "I'm, uh... I'm looking for someone."

Hayden arched a brow. "Maybe I can help?"

He hesitated, his eyes flickering over her again, studying her too intently for her liking. Then he cleared his throat. "Maybe. Is Esme Sanders around? Or a Logan Sanders?"

Her entire body went rigid.

Hearing their names come out of his mouth made her pulse spike, her fingers tightening around her keys. "Why?"

That reaction seemed to shake him out of whatever daze he was in. He took a small step back, as if suddenly aware of the tension radiating off her. His jaw flexed, and for a second, he looked unsure.

But then, another small laugh left him, softer this time. "I can come back later, actually."

Hayden didn't move, didn't say a word as she watched him take another step back, his hands going into his pockets.

It was weird. The way he looked at her.

Not in a creepy way, not like Kreese or Silver or anyone who ever made her instincts scream danger.

This was different.

Like she was something... familiar.

And yet, she was certain she had never seen this man in her life.

Before she could say anything else, he nodded at her once, a look passing over his face that she couldn't quite place. Then, just as quickly as he had appeared, he turned and walked away, leaving Hayden standing there, gripping her keys so tightly that her knuckles ached.

She didn't know why, but something about the whole thing made her uneasy.

Like this wasn't the last time she'd be seeing him.

—

Hayden took the stairs two at a time, her pulse thrumming beneath her skin, the kind of anticipation that made her breath come quicker, lighter. For once, she was eager to get the words out, to tell someone—her person—the biggest news of her life. She was going to Barcelona. She was fighting for the female captain spot in the Sekai Taikai. She had a real shot at winning, at getting noticed, at changing everything.

And if she won, if she walked away from this tournament victorious, then everything—the sleepless nights, the bruises, the pain, the training, the sacrifices—all of it would have been worth it. This was it. The moment that could change everything.

She could already picture it—Logan smirking, arms crossed, trying to act cool but failing miserably. Hayden could hear the teasing lilt in her voice, the warmth in her words as she said, "Damn, kid. World champion, huh? That's my girl. I know you're gonna kill it up there." She could feel the way Logan would pull her into a hug, ruffling her hair just to piss her off.

And maybe she could bring up the man lingered at the door who'd been at the back of her mind all day.

That's how today was supposed to go.

That's how this moment was supposed to feel.

When she reached Logan's door, she didn't hesitate before knocking, grinning already, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of training, of winning, of dreaming.

"Lo?" She rapped her knuckles against the door, shifting on her feet. "Come on, open up. You're never gonna believe this."

Silence.

Her grin faltered slightly.

She knocked again, a little harder this time. "Logan?"

Still, nothing.

A strange feeling curled in her gut, slow and cold, the kind of feeling that sent a whisper of unease crawling up her spine.

No shuffling from inside, no sarcastic response, no groggy complaints about waking her up too early.

A weird feeling crept up her spine.

Her fingers twitched as she reached for the doorknob, the feeling in her stomach twisting tighter, like something inside her already knew.

Hayden shook her head sharply, pushing the thought away before it could fully form. Because Logan promised. Promised her things changed.

That wasn't her anymore.

She reached for the doorknob. Paused.

Her fingers flexed around the handle, hesitation thrumming beneath her skin. She wasn't sure if she even wanted to enter anymore.

But she sucked in a deep breath, knowing she couldn't turn back now.

So with a slow, steady breath, she turned it.

It wasn't locked.

The second the door swung open, she knew something was wrong.

The air inside was stale. Still.

Like the kind of quiet that doesn't come from peace, but from something being wrong.

Then, the smell hit her.

Alcohol. Sharp. Bitter. It burned her nose, settled heavy in the back of her throat like something rotten.

Her chest tightened.

Hayden froze in the doorway, her eyes scanning the room—taking in the cluttered coffee table, the bottle of vodka tipped over on the counter, the half-empty glass beside it, and the the small white pills scattered across the carpet like fallen petals.

Her breath hitched.

This wasn't happening. Logan promised.

She said she was okay. She said she wasn't doing this again.

Her stomach twisted.

Like a flip switched in her brain, she took fast steps forward.

Hayden was moving before she even realized it, her feet carrying her down the hall, her heart hammering, her pulse roaring in her ears. A tremor passed through her hands, slow at first, then worse, heavier. Her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

The door to Logan's room was cracked open.

And Hayden saw it—

A glimpse of a hand. Her body went cold. She shoved the door open so hard it slammed against the wall.

Her breath stopped. Logan. On the floor. Unmoving.

"No—" A whisper, so soft she didn't even know if she said it or thought it. Her knees hit the ground hard, but she barely registered the pain.

The room was spinning, but Hayden was already grabbing her, shaking her, gripping her like she could will her back to life. "Logan," She harshly tapped her cheek, hoping the impact would jolt her away.

Her limbs were sprawled out awkwardly, one arm slung across her stomach, the other stretched toward on the floor, fingers limp beside the empty pill bottle.

Hayden's choked out a breath.

Her brain refused to process what she was seeing, like her body was trying to reject it, rewrite it, make it anything else but what it was.

She's just sleeping. She's just asleep.

But the moment stretched too long. Too still. Too quiet.

"Logan." Her voice came out strangled, hoarse, like she had to force the air up her throat. "Logan, wake up."

Nothing.

"Logan!"

Her sister's head lolled to the side, but her eyes didn't open.

Didn't flicker.

Didn't move.

No response.

"Wake up!"

Her hands were shaking.

"Logan, wake up! Come on! Please, this isn't funny!"

Nothing.

A choked sound left Hayden's throat—somewhere between a sob and a breathless, panicked gasp.

Her hands trembled violently as she pressed two fingers against Logan's wrist, searching, begging, praying for a pulse.

Please.

Please, please, please.

Her fingers felt ice. It was faint. Barely there. Barely holding on.

A sharp, guttural sob ripped through her chest, her vision blurring, distorting, breaking.

"No, no, no, no—no!"

And then she was grabbing for her phone, her fingers so shaky, so clumsy, that she nearly dropped it twice before she could dial the number.

Her voice broke as soon as the call connected.

"I need help. Please, I need help. My sister, there's a bottle of pills. She's— Shes not waking up! Please! I need help!"

She didn't remember the call after that. She only remembered letting the phone clang on the floor, hovering over her still sister's body as she tried to choke back sobs.

Her hand was in Logan's, squeezing, holding tight, refusing to let go.

Hayden leaned forward, pressing her forehead to Logan's, tears staining her sister's face as she whispered, "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't be here sooner."

She was supposed to protect Logan. She was supposed to be the one who helped her heal.

Not this.

"Please, Logan. Please wake up. Please don't do this." Her voice was barely a whisper, full of desperation. "You promised me. You promised me we'd get through this. I was almost there, Logan."

She cried even harder.

This wasn't happening. This wasn't how this was supposed to go.

Logan was supposed to be okay. She was supposed to be getting better.

She promised.

She promised, she promised, she promised.

The late-night reassurances.

The lies.

"I'm fine, Hayden."

"You don't have to worry about me."

"I won't let you go through that again."

Lies, lies, it was all lies.

She was going to win the Sekai Taikai. She was going to fix everything. She was going to help Logan find a better job. She was going to get them out of here. She was going to make sure they never had to struggle again.

It was supposed to be them. Together.

Hayden squeezed her eyes shut, a sob tearing out of her chest. "Why didn't you wait for me? All you had to do was wait." She sobbed out, crying over her still body.

She wasn't ready. She couldn't do this. She was just a kid. She needed Logan. She needed her big sister.

But Logan wasn't here. Not anymore. This version of her, it wasn't Logan. Not really.

The emptiness in Logan's eyes haunted her even more than the physical evidence of what had happened.

And Hayden had never felt more alone. And all of it was a lie.

Hayden's body wracked with sobs, her chest heaving as she clutched her sister's hoodie, gripping, clinging, refusing to let go.

She was shaking so hard her teeth clattered, her fingers digging into Logan's fabric like it would somehow anchor her, ground her, bring her back.

She could feel herself slipping.

Falling backward into memories, into every single time she had found Logan like this before—as a kid, scared, helpless, holding her breath while her big sister swore she was fine.

A raw, desperate scream tore from her throat.

And even as the sirens rang in the distance, even as her own sobs wracked her body, she still wasn't sure if help was coming fast enough.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

This wasn't how things were supposed to go.

She had just been so happy.

And now she was holding her dying sister.

And she couldn't fix it.

She couldn't do what she did best, the only thing she knew how to do, and fight her way out of this.

For the first time in her life, Hayden Sanders was completely helpless.

And all alone.

Again.

—

Hayden sat in the stiff hospital chair, her hands clasped together between her knees, her eyes fixed on the floor.

The clock on the wall ticked.

Somewhere down the hall, a monitor beeped.

A nurse wheeled a cart past the door, the soft hum of the wheels barely registering in Hayden's ears.

She hadn't moved in hours.

Hadn't slept. Hadn't spoken.

Her phone sat face-down on her lap, buzzing every so often, but she didn't check it.

She didn't need to. She knew what the texts would say.

Miguel: Can we talk?

Miguel: I got deferred.

Robby: Are you coming to train?

Miguel: Where are you?

Robby: Hey, everything okay?

Miguel: Call me.

Robby: Call me.

More texts. More missed calls.

She ignored them all.

They felt like they belonged to a different world. A world that wasn't this one.

A world where Logan hadn't been found half-dead on the floor.

A world where Hayden wasn't waiting to see if she would wake up.

She should've seen it coming.

She should've known.

The signs were there, weren't they? The distant looks, the tired smiles, the excuses. The way Logan avoided eye contact sometimes, the way she seemed distracted, the way she always changed the subject when Hayden asked if she was okay.

When the counters were clean. Too clean, like she'd just wiped them down. Because she had. When Logan had sniffled one too many times, but Hayden had just went on and on about the Sekai Taikai. When she bounced her leg too much, because she couldn't remain still.

Hayden had been so stupid. She missed the signs.

She had believed her.

She had trusted her.

And now she was here.

Staring at the hospital tile, feeling nothing and everything all at once.

The door creaked open, but Hayden didn't look up.

A doctor stepped inside, clearing his throat. "Ms. Sanders?"

She blinked once, slow, and finally lifted her head.

"She made it," he said. "It was close, but we stabilized her."

Hayden exhaled through her nose, a breath so sharp it hurt.

"We'll be monitoring her vitals closely. Once she's awake, we'll assess the next steps. In cases like this, we strongly recommend outpatient rehabilitation. We'll provide referrals to local facilities."

Outpatient rehabilitation.

Like last time.

And the time before that.

Hayden nodded—just a small, automatic motion. It didn't feel real. None of this did.

"Do you have any questions?" the doctor asked gently.

Hayden opened her mouth. Closed it. Swallowed. Shook her head.

The doctor nodded, lingering for a second before stepping out of the room.

She was alone again.

She turned her head, staring through the small window into Logan's room.

She was so still.

Too still.

The machine beside her beeped steadily, proof that she was alive, but Hayden couldn't shake the thought that she looked—gone.

A ghost.

Hayden gripped the arms of the chair, her knuckles white.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

She had been so excited to tell Logan about the Sekai Taikai. About how they were going to fix everything, how Hayden was going to take care of her, how this was their chance.

But Logan had already decided.

Had already given up.

A sharp lump formed in her throat, but she didn't cry.

She couldn't.

Instead, she reached for her phone, scrolling past the dozens of unread messages and hitting the one contact that mattered most.

She put the phone to her ear.

It rang.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Voicemail.

Hayden shut her eyes, exhaling through her nose.

She gripped her phone tighter.

Then called again.

Nothing.

Her mom was at work.

She wouldn't answer. She never did.

Hayden swallowed, setting the phone down beside her.

She sat there, unmoving.

Silent. Waiting.

—

Hayden didn't realize how many hours had passed by. The clock was ticking but Hayden didn't hear it. Not really.

She drowned it out.

The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room.

Hayden sat slumped in the chair beside Logan's hospital bed, her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped together. She hadn't slept. She wasn't sure if she had even blinked in the last hour.

The sterile smell of antiseptic and faint traces of alcohol clung to the air. It made her stomach turn.

She exhaled slowly, trying to clear her head, trying to block out the image of Logan—her Logan—the way she had found her.

Pale. Cold. Barely breathing.

She had thought...

She had thought she was too late.

The thought alone made her dig her nails into her palms, her jaw locking as she pushed it away.

She wasn't too late. Logan was still here. Logan was—

A sharp inhale.

A faint movement out of the corner of her eye.

The sheet rustled, and Hayden snapped her head up, heart stuttering as she watched Logan's fingers twitch against the bed.

Then, with a slow, painful effort, Logan's eyelids fluttered open.

Hayden shot up so fast the chair scraped loudly against the floor. "Logan?"

Logan blinked sluggishly, her eyes unfocused. She looked dazed, confused—like she had no idea where she was.

Her gaze drifted, searching, until it landed on Hayden.

She tried to speak, but her throat was dry, voice barely above a whisper.

"Wha...?"

Hayden's throat tightened. She had spent the past twenty-four hours frozen, numb, detached—but now she could feel everything at once.

She should've been angry. She should've been furious. But instead, all she felt was a soul-crushing relief that made her knees weak.

"You..." Hayden sucked in a breath, forcing herself to stay steady. "You scared the shit out of me."

Logan blinked again, sluggishly processing the words, like she was still catching up. Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Instead, her eyes flickered away.

Guilt.

Hayden saw it the moment it settled in.

The weight of it pressed into Logan's face, into the way her brows furrowed, into the way she couldn't look at her.

Hayden swallowed hard. Her fingers curled at her sides.

"Mom's on her way... I think." She shook her head, her face falling into her hands "Do you even realize what you almost did?"

Logan flinched.

The beeping of the heart monitor quickened slightly, but Hayden couldn't stop.

"I thought you were dead, Logan." Her voice wavered, and she hated it. "I walked in and—I thought—" She sucked in a sharp breath, shaking her head. "I was screaming your name. I was shaking you. I was begging you to wake up, and you—"

She broke off.

Logan squeezed her eyes shut.

"I'm sorry," Logan rasped, voice raw.

Hayden let out a sharp, breathless laugh—but there was no humor in it.

"Sorry?" she repeated, voice brittle. "That's all you have to say?"

Logan swallowed, eyes still shut like she couldn't bear to face her.

Hayden's hands trembled.

"You promised me."

That made Logan's eyes snap open again.

"You promised me, Logan," Hayden whispered, her voice cracking. "You said you were okay. You said you wouldn't do this again."

Logan inhaled sharply, guilt crushing her expression. "I know—"

For months, Hayden had let herself believe things were getting better.

Logan was sober. Logan had a new job. Logan was piecing her life back together.

That's what she had told Hayden. That's what Hayden had wanted so badly to believe.

But as she sat in that suffocating hospital room, as Logan laid in that bed—too pale, too weak, too quiet—Hayden realized just how blind she had been.

"You got a job," Hayden said, like she was trying to remind both of them. Like saying it out loud would make it true. "You were okay. You were getting better."

Logan's laugh was brittle. "No, I didn't."

Hayden blinked, stomach twisting. "What?"

Logan exhaled, tilting her head against the pillow. "I never got a job, Hay."

The words felt like a slap.

"But you—you said—" Hayden's voice cracked, confusion and anger bubbling up all at once.

"I lied." Logan's voice was quiet, eyes flickering to the ceiling. "I tried, at first. I did. But no one wanted to hire me. Too many gaps in my resume, too many questions I didn't have the right answers for." She let out a breath, hollow and shaky. "I've been scraping by. Bill to bill. Pocket change. Just surviving."

Hayden stared at her, heart pounding.

"You said you were okay."

"I know." Logan swallowed hard, her fingers curling in the blanket. "I wanted to be. I wanted you to think I was." She let out a weak, bitter laugh. "But I wasn't. Not even close."

Hayden felt her throat tighten, her fingers digging into her palms.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it's not your job to fix me," Logan shot back, her voice raw. "I didn't want you to carry that, Hayden. You're my kid sister. You're not supposed to be the one holding everything up."

Hayden's breath hitched. She turned her head away, pressing her fingers against her temples.

She had spent years carrying everything alone.

For once, she had let herself trust that she didn't have to anymore.

And now she was right back where she started.

Right back to picking up the pieces.

She felt Logan's eyes on her, but she didn't look up.

Instead, she focused on breathing. On keeping herself together.

"You have to go to rehab," Hayden finally said, her voice quieter now. "You have to actually try."

Logan let out a slow breath. "I know."

Silence stretched between them.

For the first time, Hayden didn't know what to say.

She had spent years fighting to keep Logan here. Fighting for her.

And now? Now, she didn't know if she had the energy to fight anymore.

Logan broke the silence first. "You need to go to Barcelona."

Hayden's brows furrowed, looking at her. "What?"

Logan gave a small, tired smile. "The Sekai Taikai. You made it. You're fighting for captain, aren't you?"

Hayden swallowed hard. "Yeah."

"Then you have to go." Logan's voice was soft but firm. "You've worked too hard for this. You deserve this, kid."

Hayden shook her head. "I can't just leave you here—"

"Yes, you can," Logan cut her off. "Because I'm gonna be okay. You have to trust that I'm gonna be okay."

Hayden let out a sharp, unsteady breath, her fingers gripping the edge of the chair.

"You need to do this," Logan continued. "For me."

That made Hayden freeze.

Slowly, Logan reached for her hand, squeezing weakly.

"You've spent your whole life fighting for me," she murmured. "Now let me fight for myself. And you?" Logan's lips twitched into a faint smirk. "You go kick ass in Barcelona."

Hayden's throat burned.

She squeezed Logan's hand back.

"I'm gonna do this. But you—" She swallowed hard. "You can't do this again. You can't."

Logan turned her head, finally looking her in the eye, and for the first time in forever, Hayden wasn't sure if she believed her anymore.

Logan swallowed, unclasping the necklace she wore around her neck and taking Hayden's wrist gently, placing it in the palm of her hand and closing it.

It was her bedazzled L necklace that she matched with Hayden's H one.

"I always knew you'd make something of yourself." She whispered, eyes brimming with tears. "Go kick ass, kid."

—

Hayden showed up ten minutes late to the matches.

Her hands twitched at her sides, her fingers pressing deep into her palms. The pain barely registered—just another dull sensation in the mess of everything else.

She needed this fight. Needed it.

Her body felt foreign, like she was just existing, moving without thought, breathing without effort.

She wasn't even sure she was really here.

All she knew was that she wanted to hit something. Hard.

The match between Miguel and Robby blurred before her eyes. She caught glimpses—Robby's quick footwork, Miguel's sharp counters—but it all felt distant. Like watching a movie with the sound turned down.

She didn't care who won. She didn't care about anything right now.

"Hey, are you okay? I've been texting."

Sam's voice barely registered. It was background noise, like a distant hum Hayden couldn't focus on.

She didn't turn her head. Didn't break her gaze from the mat.

"I'm fine."

Sam hesitated, like she knew that was a lie. "You sure? You don't look—"

"I said I'm fine." Hayden's voice came out flat, her jaw clenching.

Sam flinched slightly, but didn't push it.

She didn't notice Miguel glancing at her, concern flickering in his eyes every time he caught the slight tremor in her fists. Didn't notice Robby's gaze darting to her between strikes, like he was trying to piece together what was wrong.

She didn't notice that as soon as both boys had caught sight of her, they fought harder, angrier, intenser.

But none of that mattered. The fight mattered.

And then, the match was over.

Robby won.

There were cheers, claps, but Hayden barely processed any of it. Even when Robby grinned at her, gripping her shoulders gently.

"Your turn," he said, still slightly breathless. "Us on the podium together, right?"

She nodded, but it was empty.

Sam stepped forward, clearing her throat. "Actually, I decided not to fight." Gasps filled the room and Hayden knitted her brows together.

"Why?" The question came out more defensive than she meant it to, but she was too angry to care.

"You've put in more work than I have. You come to train an hour early before the rest of us do. You want this more than me." She inhaled before speaking again. "I won't speak for Tory, but she's said the same thing as me, I think it should be you."

For a second, something inside Hayden cracked. Her brows furrowed and her fists clenched at her sides, feeling a rising pit of anger rise in her throat. "Your not gonna fight?" Her voice was loud, like she were wondering if this was some kind of joke.

"No." Tory's voice cut through the air like a knife.

Everyone turned.

She was barely walking in, her fists balled into fists. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale, her hands clenched into fists.

Something about her looked... off.

Not just tired. Not just beaten down. Hollow.

"I changed my mind," Tory said, stepping forward, voice hard. "I want to fight."

Hayden studied her.

The weight in her stance. The exhaustion in her face. The pain in her eyes.

She recognized it.

Because she was feeling the exact same thing.

Hayden rolled her shoulders. "Fine by me."

Hayden and Tory stood on the sparring deck, muscles coiled, eyes locked, the weight of everything hanging between them.

This wasn't just about the Sekai Taikai anymore for Hayden.

It was about everything.

Pain. Rage. Desperation.

It was about what was at stake. And she couldn't afford to lose.

The second Johnny signaled for them to start, Tory and Hayden lunged at the same time, but Hayden was faster.

No hesitation. No circling. No strategy.

Just rage.

Tory swung first—a sharp right hook—but Hayden ducked, reading the movement before it even started. She wasn't just fighting—she was calculating, anticipating, striking before Tory could react.

Hayden had trained for this. She had bled for this.

Her sister's lifeless body flashed in her head. Logan's promises. Things are better, Hayden.

Lies.

Hayden's strikes were flawless. Precise. Like a machine programmed to win.

She swept Tory's leg, sending her stumbling, then struck hard, fast, landing a clean hit to her chest.

"Point, Sanders."

The murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Tory scrambled up to her feet, smoothing her messy hair back and going back to her side of the mat, blinking at her.

Hayden's breath was even. Cold. Unshaken.

1-0. That's all that was running through her mind. She needed two more points and the captain title was hers.

Hayden clenched her fists as she got into a fighting stance. There was no room for error, she told herself.

Johnny gave them a beat before signaling. "Fight!"

Tory came at her hard.

There was no hesitation this time—just pure aggression.

Hayden barely blocked the first kick before Tory spun, catching her in the ribs with another.

She gritted her teeth, stepping back to reset, but Tory didn't let her.

She was faster. Sharper. Hitting like she had something to prove.

And she did.

Tory swung, a hard right hook. Hayden ducked, countering with a sharp kick to the ribs. Tory barely stumbled before retaliating, catching Hayden's leg and yanking her forward.

They weren't fighting smart.

They were fighting angry.

Every move was raw. Every strike was meant to hurt.

The others watched in stunned silence.

Neither of them were holding back.

Hayden landed a sharp elbow to Tory's shoulder, making her grunt, but Tory twisted her arm, forcing Hayden off balance.

A flurry of blows exchanged between them—too fast, too vicious.

Miguel took a step forward, like he wanted to stop it but Robby put a hand on his chest, stopping him.

Tory slammed into Hayden's shoulder, knocking her off balance, then landed a brutal backfist to her jaw.

"Point, Nichols."

But Tory didn't stop.

She pivoted—striking Hayden again, a sharp kick to her ribs even though the match had already ended.

Hayden stumbled, catching herself, fire igniting in her chest. "Damn it!" She yelled, feeling the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. But that wasn't going to stop her from fighting.

Nothing was.

Miguel and Robby exchanged looks of concern, the two girls didn't look good. And it was visible in the way they were fighting.

Full of rage and hostility.

"Hey, ref. That's a little overkill. That should be no point." Daniel stepped forward, his face tight with disapproval.

Johnny nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I'm handling it." He turned back to the two girls, but their eyes were locked in on each other, waiting for the next match to start. "That's a warning. Next one's a deduction."

The words barely registered.

Hayden's heart was pounding. Not from pain.

From anger.

Tory wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, meeting Hayden's glare.

1-1.

"Ready? Fight!" Johnny barely got the word out before they collided.

Hayden wasn't thinking anymore. She was moving.

Every muscle, every instinct, every memory of every fight before this fueled her.

She feinted left, baiting Tory into overcommitting, then countered—fast, sharp, punishing.

A strike to the ribs. A calculated step forward. A brutal roundhouse to the chest.

Tory hit the mat. Hard.

"Point, Sanders."

The air in the dojo was thick.

2-1.

Tory breathed hard, sitting up, but Hayden could see the fire in her eyes.

She was going to come back harder. But so was she.

Johnny raised his hand.

The crowd was silent.

Tory wiped the sweat from her brow and Hayden exhaled slowly.

"Ready? Fight."

They exploded at each other.

This wasn't just a fight anymore—this was everything.

Tory wanted this. Hayden needed this.

Punches blurred. Blocks deflected. Footwork was sharp, counters even sharper.

They weren't hesitating. They weren't holding back.

Hayden went for a high kick—Tory slipped under it, striking low.

Tory threw a spinning backfist—Hayden caught it, twisting into a takedown that almost worked—

Almost.

Tory flipped them, going to land a strike to Hayden's shoulder but she rolled out of the in time. Barely.

Hayden grunted, twisting free, countering hard.

Tory was relentless. Hayden matched her beat for beat.

Neither of them stopped.

But then Tory's eyes met hers. For a split second, they looked at each other, seeing reflections and tracings of anger and grief in their eyes.

Tory's breath hitched.

For one second, her eyes flickered—something breaking through the rage.

And that was all it took.

Hayden struck, fast and instinctive.

Tory stumbled, dropping to a knee.

She tried to scramble up, holding her fist up to try and strike Hayden in whatever open area she could.

Hayden's chest heaved, but she didn't stop. She couldn't.

She moved to finish it—

But then—

A fist caught Tory's wrist before she could strike.

"The fight's over."

Daniel's voice was calm, but firm.

Hayden skidded to a halt. Tory froze, fists still clenched.

Their breath came hard and fast, sweat dripping from their brows. But neither moved. Neither backed down.

The entire dojo watched in stunned silence, tension crackling in the air like a live wire.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Tory wrenched her arm free, chest heaving. "That's not fair. That could have been a point!"

Johnny stepped forward, his face hard. "What the hell, man? I'm the ref. I'll decide when the fight's over."

Daniel shook his head. "I'll explain. I promise. I just can't do it in front of everybody." He started to lead Johnny away from the mat.

But Tory wasn't done.

"No. Don't stop the fight, please."

Hayden's shoulders squared, her hands balling into fists again. Her nails dug into her palms, sharp enough to leave crescent moons in her skin. "She wants to fight. Let her fight."

Because Hayden needed this, too.

Logan's voice—go kick ass—whispered through her mind, and she clung to it like it was all she had left.

"Come on. Please, girls. Off the deck. Let's go."

They moved back to their starting stances.

Tory's eyes were dark, brimming with pain, but Hayden was blind to it. Or maybe she saw it and didn't care. Maybe she couldn't afford to care.

Not right now.

"Don't tell them what to do. I'm their sensei too." Johnny's voice cut through the stillness.

"Then end the fight."

"Why?"

Hayden was locked in. She didn't see the way Tory's hands trembled. Didn't notice how her chest rose and fell like she was struggling to breathe.

Not until the words tore from Tory's throat like something shattered inside her.

"Because my mother died!"

Silence.

A stunned, breathless, gut-wrenching silence.

Hayden felt the world tilt beneath her feet.

Tory's mom.

Gone.

The same day Logan almost died.

Hayden's stomach lurched, her vision blurring for the first time since she stepped on the mat. She felt a hollow ache crack open inside her, something raw and ugly.

She'd been so focused on her own pain, her own rage, that she never even thought—

Tory had lost everything.

Daniel's voice was gentle, cautious, like he was approaching a wounded animal. "Tory, I'm so sorry for your loss. But we can't continue this fight. This is not the time."

"Yes, it is. Yes, it is." Tory's voice wavered, but she turned to Hayden with fierce, desperate eyes. "I have to fight now!"

Hayden barely nodded. "I know, Tory. I know."

She knew there wasn't many comforting words to say to Tory right now because there weren't many comforting things anyone could say to her right now.

"Sensei Lawrence, some help here, please." Daniel glanced back at Johnny.

"It's not up to us." He stared back at him. "If Nichols wants to fight, she should fight."

"Johnny." Daniel warned him. "Listen, we'll find another way to appoint the captain—"

"Find a way?" Tory repeated as if in disbelief. "No. No! You do not understand. None of you understand!"

Hayden took another step closer, and Tory immediately looked at her, shaking her head before walking over to Amanda. "My mom, she would've wanted this. If I don't fight— I have to do this. I have to do this for her. I have to fight."

Hayden slowly approached her from behind, gently taking her hand. She didn't know what else to do. There was no way to comfort someone who'd lost their everything.

She would know.

"Tory, I know. It hurts, just breathe, okay?" She murmured out.

"No, no." She softened at the sight of Hayden's teary eyes but quickly hardened again, "I don't wanna breathe. Okay? I wanna fight. I need to fight."

Amanda stepped forward. "Tory, honey, I know what you're feeling. But I also know that you're not in the right headspace to decide—"

"No, you don't understand!" Tory ripped her hands away, voice breaking. "Stop saying you understand because you don't!"

She turned sharply, eyes blazing at Daniel.

"You want this fight to be over? Fine! It's over."

She stormed off the mat, shoving past students, heading straight for the exit.

"Tory, where are you going?" Sam called after her.

Tory didn't turn back. Didn't slow down.

"I'm done!"

And then she was gone.

—

"Training for the Sekai Taikai has been hard on all of us. But now, training is over. And while most of you won't be going to Barcelona, we know you'll be there with us in spirit."

Hayden stood motionless, arms stiff at her sides, her shoulders squared like she was holding up something too heavy for one person to carry.

She could feel Miguel's eyes burning into the side of her face, the weight of his concern pressing against her skin. But she didn't turn. Didn't acknowledge it.

She didn't have the energy.

She didn't have anything left to give.

"Since Tory won't be going with us, we've decided Hawk will take her spot." Johnny's voice rang through the dojo.

A round of applause followed, cheers and pats on the back. Hawk grinned, bumping fists with Demetri, but Hayden barely processed it.

It all felt far away. Like she was watching it from outside of herself.

"You six will be fighting for Miyagi-Do," Daniel continued. "It will be the toughest challenge you've faced yet. And to win, we're all gonna need to be there for each other."

"All of us. As a team." Johnny finished.

"Captains, step forward."

Hayden felt her feet move before her brain could catch up. She should've felt something.

Excitement. Pride. Accomplishment.

She had dreamed about this moment. Had trained for this. Had imagined what it would feel like to be named captain—to prove to herself, to everyone, that she deserved this.

But now it just felt empty.

She should be rushing home to tell her mom. She should be skateboarding over to Logan's place, shoving open her apartment door, laughing as Logan pretended to be annoyed before pulling her into a hug.

But she couldn't do that anymore.

Logan wasn't there anymore. Not really.

And suddenly, this didn't feel like a win.

Mr. LaRusso stepped in front of her, holding out a Sekai Taikai headband. His eyes were warm, filled with pride.

For a split second, Hayden wished she could feel it, too.

He wrapped the headband around her head, tying it securely. "I'm proud of you, Hayden."

She nodded, the motion mechanical, her voice flat when she muttered, "Thanks."

She could hear more applause, could feel Robby nudging her arm, Miguel smiling beside her, but it was like there was a wall between them. A divide.

This moment was supposed to mean everything.

Instead, it just reminded her that she just lost everything.

—

Hayden had been running on autopilot all day.

She skated home from the hospital like muscle memory, weaving through the streets without really seeing them.

Barcelona.

She was going to Barcelona.

Captain of the team. Leading Miyagi-Do on the world's biggest stage.

It should've been the biggest moment of her life.

But all she could think about was Logan. The hospital. The machines. The way her body had felt so cold when Hayden held her.

And the aching question that had followed her home, sitting heavy in her chest—what was the point of any of this if she had no one to share it with?

When she finally made it to her apartment, she had barely gotten her board under her arm before she noticed it.

The man.

The same one from earlier.

Only this time, he wasn't lurking near her door—he was inside. Sitting on the couch, across from her mom.

Esme looked up the moment Hayden stepped in. And the look on her face—strained, tight, regretful—made something coil in Hayden's stomach.

She knew that look.

That was the look someone had when they were about to rip the rug out from under you.

Hayden closed the door behind her slowly, gripping the strap of her duffel bag. "What's going on?"

Her mom inhaled sharply, clasping her hands in her lap. "Hayden, I need you to sit down."

Her skin prickled. Something was wrong.

Her eyes flicked to the man—his jaw, his dark hair, the way he was watching her like he'd seen a ghost.

She stayed standing. "Who is he?"

Esme swallowed, her gaze flickering to the man before landing back on Hayden. Guilt. Pure, unfiltered guilt.

"Hayden, this is—"

"I'm your father."

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

Hayden froze.

The room tilted, her stomach twisted, and she blinked like she hadn't heard him right.

Because no. No, that wasn't possible.

Her father wasn't real. He wasn't someone who could walk into her life out of nowhere. He was a distant, hazy concept. A ghost of a man who had never wanted her.

And yet—he was right there. Sitting in front of her, saying the words she had imagined hearing a hundred times over.

And it made her sick.

She let out a breathless, humorless laugh. "What?"

"Hayden," Esme's voice was soft, cautious, pleading. "Please, just sit down."

She couldn't. She wouldn't.

She looked at the man again—this stranger. "You're lying."

"I'm not," he said, voice careful. "I know this is a lot, but I—"

"No," she snapped, shaking her head. "No. Because if you were my dad, you would've been here. You would've known me."

Her pulse was hammering.

She had spent years wondering where he was. If he had ever looked for her. If he had ever wanted her.

And now, he was just here? Like it was nothing? Like he could waltz into her life decades later and expect her to sit down and chat?

"Hayden." Her mom's voice was careful.

She had spent her entire life pretending she didn't care.

And now, he was right there.

And it made her sick.

She let out a breathless, humorless laugh, shaking her head. "What?"

"I know this is a lot—"

"No." Her voice came out sharp, slicing through the air. "No, because if you were my father, you would've been here."

She took a step forward, furious.

"Where the hell have you been?"

A beat of silence.

And then Esme answered.

"He was with his other family."

Hayden stilled.

His other family.

The words burrowed into her skin, crawling under her ribcage and wrapping tight around her lungs.

She turned to Esme slowly. "What?"

Esme exhaled, her expression pained. "I found out he was cheating on me right before I gave birth to you. He had a whole second family. A wife. Kids. A life."

Hayden felt something inside her crack.

Her stomach turned, her head spun, and suddenly, she wasn't standing in the apartment anymore.

She was five years old.

Staring at the front door, wondering when her dad was coming home. Asking her mom why he wasn't there. If she had done something wrong.

She was ten years old.

Sitting in the back of the classroom on Father's Day, listening to kids talk about their dads while she pretended not to care.

She was sixteen.

Training at Cobra Kai, punching until her knuckles bled, telling herself she didn't need a father because he had never needed her.

And it turned out, he hadn't left everyone. Just her.

She wasn't just abandoned.

She was a secret. A mistake. A second choice.

She sucked in a sharp breath, her throat aching. "You had a whole other family?"

Her father—if she could even call him that—opened his mouth, but she cut him off before he could even try to explain.

"And you picked them over me."

It wasn't a question.

Because she already knew the answer.

His silence said everything.

His jaw tightened. His eyes dropped. His silence screamed.

Hayden's breath hitched, her eyes burning, her body tensing like a live wire.

And then—he pulled something out of his wallet.

A photo. A little girl.

Wide, blue eyes. Jet black hair. Probably six, maybe seven. She resembled Hayden. A lot more than she wanted to admit.

"My youngest daughter," he said softly. "Your sister."

Hayden felt something inside her snap.

He had a daughter. A daughter he stayed for. A daughter he had raised. A daughter who had gotten everything she had spent her entire life begging for.

She had spent years—years—wondering why he never came back. Why he never tried. Why he never even called.

And now she knew. Because he didn't need her. Because he already had a family. Because she was the mistake.

Her throat burned. Her vision blurred.

She didn't even realize she was crying.

Her fingers trembled as she clenched her jaw, forcing the lump in her throat down before shoving the picture away.

"Fuck you."

The words ripped out of her.

Her father flinched.

Esme's eyes widened. "Hayden—"

"No!" Her voice cracked. "You don't get to sit here and act like you give a damn about me! You had a whole family! A daughter! You raised her! You watched her grow up! You were there for her birthdays! Her first steps! Her first fucking words!"

She felt herself shaking. Her lungs were tightening.

"Where the fuck were you for mine?"

His eyes were glassier than before, but she didn't care. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted to make him feel everything she had felt for the last seventeen years.

First Logan. Now this.

She was so tired. Tired of losing people. Tired of getting her hopes up. Tired of thinking things could ever be okay.

She swallowed hard, taking one step back.

"I don't need this. I don't need you. I never have."

She turned on her heel, heading for the door.

"Hayden, wait—"

"I said I can't do this!" she shouted, her voice cracking.

She saw her mom flinch. Saw him tense.

She slammed the door behind her, stepping into the cold, dark night.

And for the first time in a long time—she couldn't breathe.

—

Hayden didn't remember getting to Dr. Morgan's office.

One second, she was walking, her hands shaking, her breathing erratic, her vision blurred from the weight of everything.

The next, she was standing in the doorway, barely aware of the startled woman sitting across from Dr. Morgan, the sound of muffled conversation cutting off at the sheer rage radiating off of her.

Her therapist's eyes lifted from her clipboard, brows pulling together. "Hayden?"

The concern in her voice—it made her sick.

In Hayden's eyes, she didn't deserve to be concerned. Didn't deserve to act like she gave a damn. Didn't deserve to pretend like she hadn't set her up for this.

Because this was her fault.

All of it.

"Get out." Hayden's voice was low, dangerous, barely more than a whisper, but it cut through the room like a blade.

The woman in the chair flinched. "I—"

"I said get out!" Hayden exploded, her voice cracking.

Dr. Morgan blinked, quickly motioning for her patient to leave, and the woman scurried out without another word, her eyes darting between them before the door clicked shut.

And then, it was just them.

Now, Hayden could burn the whole place down.

Dr. Morgan placed her clipboard aside, hands folded neatly in her lap. "Hayden—"

"No." The word ripped out of her like glass, slicing, shredding, leaving her bleeding.

Her breath hitched. Her fists clenched.

"You don't get to talk."

Dr. Morgan stayed silent.

Hayden laughed. It was empty, breathless, hollow.

"This is all your fault!"

Dr. Morgan set her clipboard down calmly, folding her hands in her lap. "What happened?"

Hayden let out a sharp, bitter laugh, but it sounded more like a sob.

"You wanna know what happened?" she seethed, her breath shaking, her entire body shaking. "You happened."

Dr. Morgan's expression didn't change, but Hayden could see the slight shift in her posture. "Hayden—"

"No." Her voice cracked. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to sit there with that stupid, calm therapist face and act like you didn't just ruin my entire fucking life!"

Dr. Morgan sighed, her voice steady, even as Hayden stood in front of her, falling apart at the seams. "Talk to me."

"Talk to you?" Hayden let out a hysterical, breathless laugh. "Talk to you?"

She was shaking so hard, she thought she might fall apart right there on the spot.

"You told me to let people in," she said bitterly, voice trembling. "You told me it was okay. You told me to trust."

Her chest tightened, her breath quivered.

"I trusted you."

Her fists clenched.

"I trusted my sister when she said she was okay."

Her teeth clenched.

"I trusted my mom when she told me my dad didn't matter."

Her nails dug into her palms.

"I trusted—" her voice broke, "—that I wasn't some second choice, that I wasn't so fucking easy to throw away."

Her breath hitched, her entire body trembling, her vision blurred, her chest heavy.

"I let my guard down."

The words were barely a whisper.

"I let myself hope. And now?"

She let out a breath that shook her entire frame.

"My sister is in a hospital bed, my father has an entire family he actually wanted, and I feel like I'm going to explode."

Dr. Morgan stayed quiet, letting the words settle.

Letting Hayden break.

And she did.

Right there in the middle of the office.

She broke.

Tears streamed down her face, hot, furious, unrelenting.

Her hands were trembling. Her throat ached. Her chest was caving in.

And for the first time, she didn't try to stop it.

She didn't fight it.

She let it happen.

Because everything she had ever fought to keep out, to keep buried, to keep locked behind walls—it was here.

And she had nowhere to put it. And she hated it.

She hated her.

"I fucking hate you!"

It came out as a scream, her breath ragged, her chest heaving, and she couldn't stop.

"You told me trust people, you did that!"

Her vision blurred.

"This is your fault!"

Her hands shook.

"I fucking hate you," she spoke, voice hoarse, raw, shattered.

Dr. Morgan stayed quiet.

She didn't argue. Didn't defend herself.

She just let it happen.

"I hate you for making me think things could ever be different."

Her throat ached. Her body shook.

And finally—

Finally, she crashed.

Dr. Morgan took a breath. "I know."

And that?

That made everything worse.

—

The plane hummed softly beneath her, a low vibration that filled the quiet between passengers. Hayden had chosen her seat carefully—next to Eli, who wasn't the type to ask questions. Who wouldn't glance at her every few minutes, searching for cracks in the armor she'd hastily put back up.

She needed the silence.

So she sat, earbuds in, staring out the window at the endless stretch of clouds, watching them pass like ghosts in the night.

But the thoughts still came.

Her dad's face, hesitant and unfamiliar, his guilt sitting between them like a chasm too wide to cross. The way he'd fumbled for words, but none of them had been good enough. Because how do you justify choosing another family? Raising another daughter while pretending she didn't exist?

And Logan.

Logan's lifeless body on the floor, her lips pale, her pupils wide and unfocused. The smell of liquor and pills clinging to the air like a death sentence.

The way Hayden had screamed, her voice raw and desperate, shaking her sister's shoulders, willing her to wake up. The sirens had been distant at first, a cruel afterthought, and then too close, too loud, and suddenly there were hands—paramedics pulling her back, prying her away. Telling her to let go.

She blinked.

Tears had slipped down her cheeks without her realizing.

A tissue appeared in her line of sight. Subtle. Unspoken.

She turned to Eli, who didn't look at her, didn't offer words she wouldn't know how to respond to. Just held the tissue out, staring straight ahead like nothing had happened.

Hayden took it.

Cleared her throat.

Nodded once in thanks.

Then she leaned her head against the window, pressing her temple against the cool glass, and watched the sky blur past, her mind still trapped somewhere she couldn't escape.

And it had stayed the way the entire way, up until now.

Hayden stood in front of the two perfectly aligned rows of Miyagi-Do fighters, her fingernails digging into her palms harshly, her heart pounding in her ears. The pressure was grounding. She needed that.

Her gi felt like armor, stiff and protective, holding her together when everything else had shattered.

She ignored the way Robby kept sneaking glances at her, his worried gaze a weight she refused to acknowledge. She knew what he saw—what he was looking for.

Cracks. Weakness. Grief.

But he wouldn't find them.

Not now.

Hayden inhaled sharply, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin as they walked.

She was hurt beyond measure.

Her life had unraveled at the seams in the days leading up to the most important moment of her career.

But she'd be damned if she let that show in front of the competition. So, as soon as she entered the double doors of the Sekai Taikai, she wiped her eyes of any traces of grief, hurt, or anger.

So as she stepped through the towering double doors of the Sekai Taikai, Hayden did what she did best.

She shut it all out.

The grief. The betrayal. The unbearable weight of everything.

She exhaled slowly, her eyes scanning the competition floor, taking in the hundreds of fighters from all over the world. The sheer volume of talent in the room should have been intimidating, but Hayden didn't falter.

And then, across the room, a cluster of black caught her attention.

Cobra Kai.

They stood across from them like a storm cloud, every single one of them smirking like they knew something Miyagi-Do didn't.

Hayden's jaw locked, her laser focus narrowing on them, picking them apart one by one.

Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw him.

Kreese.

He walked up beside Kim Da-Eun, his stare cutting straight through her like a knife. His expression unreadable—except for the way he shook his head.

Disapproval.

Then his lips quirked.

And Hayden's stomach dropped.

Because behind him—

Tory Nichols.

Wearing a Cobra Kai gi.

Staring right at her.

The world slowed for half a second.

And then hurt detonated inside of her like a bomb.

She should have expected this. She should have seen it coming, but seeing Tory there, standing on the wrong side again, ignited something nuclear in her chest.

Her fingers curled into fists so tight, her nails dug into the flesh of her palms.

The room around her blurred, but Tory was crystal clear.

Their stares locked.

And all of a sudden, this was the All Valley all over again.

Because they both knew...

They wouldn't hold back if it came down to them two on the mat.

authors note.
yeah i put her through the ringer in this one and the funny part is im not even done LMAOAOAO
just remember that when you're having a bad day, hayden is having a worse one!!!
anywho so sorry i cried while writing some of these scenes cuz DAYUM let me know thoughts guys :)
sorry if i made some of u cry