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AS HER TRAINING AT COBRA KAI CONTINUED, so did her life start to fracture in unseen ways... The arrangement with Kreese had seemed like a blessing at first, but now, it felt more like a double-edged sword. Her training fees were waived, and her meals were taken care of while her parents were away, each one balanced to meet the demands of her brutal regimen. He'd even secured her a gym membership for additional training, shared only with Kwon, a luxury exclusive to the captains of the dojang. But there was a cost—a promise to guarantee victory at the Sekai Taikai.

Failure wasn't an option.

Each time Kreese's cold eyes locked onto her during training, the weight of that deal bore down on her chest. It wasn't just about winning; it was about proving she deserved everything she was being given. Every punch, every kick, every bruise reminded her of the stakes.

But her promise to Kreese was only one thread in a tangled web of stress and deceit. Her parents had pulled her out of karate after that fight, going as far as to uproot their lives in Encino and move halfway across the world to Seoul. It was meant to be a fresh start, a clean break from the chaos Cobra Kai had brought into their lives.

In truth, their business-heavy schedules hadn't changed. They still traveled frequently, most of their operations scattered between Europe and the U.S., leaving her alone to fend for herself when they were away. While their absence gave her freedom to sneak off to the dojang, it also piled on responsibilities she wasn't ready for. Managing the house, making meals, keeping up with school—it was too much, but she didn't have a choice.

When her parents were home, the strain shifted. They didn't notice the bruises she painstakingly concealed with makeup or the exhaustion she tried to hide behind coffee-fueled mornings. Her gi and gear were stashed in her school locker, her gym bag hidden under piles of books. Every move had to be calculated, every excuse airtight.

The web tightened further when it came to her friends—or what was left of them. Aisha, her best friend since the beginning of her high school life, was still in Santa Cruz, living a vastly different life in private school. They used to talk all the time, but now, weeks passed without so much as a text. y/n told herself it was just life pulling them in different directions, but deep down, she knew Cobra Kai was the real reason.

Word of her enrollment in Master Kim's dojang spread fast. Students avoided her—some out of fear, others out of disdain. Jae-chul and his lackeys didn't even try to meet her eyes anymore, their bravado shattered after the beatdown she'd delivered. But while the bullies stayed away, the whispers grew louder.

"She's one of them now," they'd say. Them. As if Cobra Kai wasn't just a dojo but an infection. But she was used to this treatment, having experienced it in the past. 

The tournament loomed closer, and with it came sleepless nights. Between juggling school, tutoring, training, and covering her tracks, the pressure was suffocating. Her grades were decent, sure, but her focus was splintering. The few friends she had left felt like strangers, and the isolation was creeping in.

Even at the dojang, where she was supposed to thrive, there was no respite. The other students arrived early just to watch her train, their stares a mix of envy and judgment. Kwon's taunts were sharper than ever, though she couldn't ignore the undertone of jealousy that laced his words. He didn't try to hide his disdain for the attention she received—not just from the students, but from Kim and Yoon.

"You're the talk of the place, you know," Kwon had sneered after practice one day. "The outsider with all the talent. Guess it's easy to impress when Yoon's holding your hand through everything."

She didn't respond. His words stung, but she knew better than to rise to the bait.

Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was right. She was an outlier in more ways than one, and no amount of victories could change that. The Cobra Kai name had given her strength, but it had also made her a pariah.

One night, lying awake in bed, she thought of Aisha. Of Encino. Of everything she'd left behind.

Was it all worth it?

Her bruised knuckles and aching muscles screamed no, but the fire in her chest whispered yes.

Because Cobra Kai wasn't just a dojo. It was a second chance—a way to rewrite the narrative. To prove that she wasn't the delinquent her parents thought she was. That she was more than the sum of her mistakes.

And if the cost of that chance was sleepless nights, fractured friendships, and a deal with the devil himself, so be it.

She'd win. She had to.

"Psst—You good?" Eun-ji's sharp whisper, accompanied by a nudge to the ribs, snapped the y/h/c-haired girl out of her spiraling thoughts. She blinked, momentarily disoriented, before glancing at Eun-ji. Her friend's raised brows and sly grin were more than enough to put her on edge.

"Yeah, I'm fine," y/n muttered, shifting her gaze back to her notebook. She hadn't even realized she'd been zoning out again, the monotone hum of the chemistry teacher's voice fading into the background.

"Uh-huh." Eun-ji's smirk widened. "You're, like, the definition of 'fine.'"

Y/n rolled her eyes but didn't reply, hoping Eun-ji would drop it. She didn't.

"Let me guess. It's because of them," She whispered, jerking her chin toward the other side of the room.

Confused, the girl followed her gaze. That's when she saw them.

Kwon and Yoo-mi...

Kwon, as usual, was slouched in his seat, the picture of disinterest, his long legs sprawled out lazily under the desk. Yoo-mi, seated far too close to him for comfort, leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered something. Her manicured hand rested lightly on his thigh, her bright red nails contrasting sharply against the dark fabric of his uniform.

Kwon snorted at whatever she said, shaking his head slightly. Though his expression was unreadable, there was a faint smirk playing on his lips.

Y/n's stomach twisted uncomfortably.

She hadn't noticed the tension building in her chest until Eun-ji nudged her again. "See? Told you. Yoo-mi's totally got her claws in him."

"I don't care," the girl said quickly, a little too quickly.

Eun-ji's knowing laugh only made her irritation worse. "Yeah, sure. That's why you look like you're about to rip her hair out."

Y/n scoffed, flipping a page in her notebook she had no intention of reading. "You're imagining things."

"Am I?" Eun-ji leaned closer, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "You've been weird every time she talks to him. And now? She's practically crawling into his lap. You're not mad about that?"

Y/n tried to shrug it off, but her shoulders felt stiff, her movements jerky. She wasn't mad, not really. But there was this annoying, gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach that made it hard to focus.

And Eun-ji wasn't helping.

"It's just gross, that's all," She muttered, still avoiding Eun-ji's gaze. "She's so obvious. Like, have some self-respect."

"Right." Eun-ji grinned like a cat that just caught a mouse. "That's why you've been glaring at her for the last five minutes."

"I'm not glaring."

"You're definitely glaring."

Y/n's grip tightened around her pen. She wasn't even sure why she cared. Kwon was... Kwon. Cold, insufferable, and about as approachable as a barbed-wire fence. She didn't care who he talked to or who flirted with him.

Right?

The rest of the class passed in a blur, the tension in the girl's chest refusing to ease. Every time she glanced up, Yoo-mi was still there, leaning closer, laughing at something Kwon said. The sight of her hand still resting on his thigh made y/n's jaw clench.

By the time the bell rang, she was practically out of her seat before the teacher even finished dismissing them.

"Y/n, wait!" Eun-ji called after her, but she didn't stop. She didn't want to hear more teasing or deal with whatever her friend thought she'd figured out. She just needed to get out of there.

The jealousy was there, simmering under the surface, but she didn't have a name for it. Why did it bother her so much? It wasn't like she wanted Kwon's attention—or did she? The thought made her stomach churn, a mix of frustration and something she couldn't quite place. It wasn't about Yoo-mi, not really. It wasn't even about Kwon. It was about how he'd looked at Yoo-mi, how he'd laughed at whatever she'd whispered to him. How he hadn't pushed her hand away.

And maybe, just maybe, it was about how he'd never looked at her like that.

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