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FOR THE PAST FEW DAYS, y/n had been unusually distracted, her mind drifting in class and her responses to even minor questions sharp and irritable. Her lack of focus had become noticeable to Kwon, who found himself surprised by her frequent zoning out and difficulty with her own homework, let alone helping him with his. What puzzled him most was her sudden interest in his karate classes; she'd barely shown any curiosity before. He was certain his new position as the top student had finally caught her attention, a smug belief blinding him to any possible connection she had to his latest sensei.

Kwon's arrogance, however, kept him blissfully unaware of the real reason behind her behavior: the re-emergence of a painful, unhealed wound from her past that only deepened with each passing day.

Y/n's mind was a battlefield, haunted by echoes of the past that refused to stay buried. Kreese's cutting words—"Mercy is what landed your friend in the hospital..."—resonated like a sinister mantra, dragging her back to the chaos she'd tried so hard to escape. Cobra Kai's resurgence wasn't just a coincidence; it was a dark specter pulling her into a vortex of regret and rage she'd long suppressed. Memories she had fought to lock away resurfaced, clawing their way into her consciousness, raw and unrelenting.

Every detail of that fateful day played like a vivid nightmare: the searing adrenaline of the school fight, the screaming, the chaos. "MIGUEL!" His name tore through her mind, carrying the weight of helplessness and guilt. She could still feel the cold railing beneath her hand as she reached out to stop his fall—one second too late. The haunting image of him lying still at the bottom of the staircase was etched into her soul. Last she'd heard, he'd been in a coma. Her father's grim muttering replayed in her head: "After two weeks in a coma, the coma usually wins."

The guilt was unbearable. She hadn't just been a bystander in that fight; she had been an accomplice. Driven by anger and misguided loyalty, she had unleashed her own fury on anyone who dared interfere, all to protect Nichols—the girl whose relentless anger had mirrored her own. y/n remembered the night that had forged her bond with Tory, a night filled with cheap vodka and cruel intentions. Tory had saved her from a boy with darker motives, dragging her wasted ass out of a party before things could take a sinister turn. That act of kindness had cracked y/n's hardened exterior, making her see the fractured, chaotic life Tory endured. 

It was that empathy, that shared understanding of pain, that had fueled the girl's blind support during the fight.

But hindsight was a cruel teacher. Samantha LaRusso wasn't blameless, but she hadn't deserved what happened. y/n had allowed her judgment to be clouded by petty grievances and devotion to Kreese's merciless philosophy. She had acted without thought, letting rage consume her, and now Miguel's fall stood as a permanent reminder of what her recklessness had wrought.

Since fleeing to South Korea, y/n had tried to bury it all. She had abandoned karate, cut ties with everyone, and sworn off the violence that had defined her. But the scars of her past lingered—literal and figurative. A faint mark on her nose, a remnant of her last fight, served as a daily reminder of the girl she used to be. That girl was long gone, replaced by someone quieter, someone who avoided confrontation and allowed herself to be trampled by the world she once dominated.

She had become prey to petty bullies, people who would've cowered before her old self. They pushed, prodded, and laughed, and she endured it, convincing herself that her silence was strength. But deep down, a storm brewed. Her hands would tremble as she suppressed the instinct to lash out. Every taunt, every shove, every whispered insult fanned the flames of a fire she desperately tried to smother.

And now, Kreese had returned, his presence dragging her back to the edge of that abyss. His words—sharp, calculated—had stirred something primal within her. For all her resolve, for all her efforts to move on, the temptation was there. She craved it: the raw power, the adrenaline, the satisfaction of standing victorious over a beaten opponent. It was an intoxicating drug, and she could feel herself teetering on the edge of relapse.

The memories came in fragments, disjointed and cruel. The basketball slamming against her face. The scalding coffee on her skin. The whispered rumors and mocking laughter. They blurred with flashes of the dojo: the brutal training sessions, the shouted commands, the triumphs and defeats. And always, Kreese's voice loomed, whispering his gospel of strength through dominance, of mercy as weakness.

Her chest tightened as her thoughts spiraled, her breathing growing shallow. She clenched her fists until her nails dug into her palms, grounding herself in the present. She had escaped once before, leaving behind the wreckage of her life in California. But could she truly escape the ghost of who she had been? Or was Kreese right? Was the fighter still inside her, clawing to break free?

Y/n shook her head violently, as if the motion could dislodge the memories. No. She couldn't go back—not to the dojo, not to the violence, not to him. She wouldn't let Kreese's poison seep into her life again. Yet, deep in her heart, a part of her—a dark, unyielding part—wondered if she'd ever truly left it behind.

"Um, y/n...?" Kwon's voice broke through her fog of thoughts, accompanied by his hand waving inches from her face. His tone carried more irritation than concern, and the exasperation was evident in the way he leaned back, arms crossed. "Are you okay?"

Y/n blinked, her trance shattered. Her hand instinctively moved to close her notebook, shielding the half-done work from his gaze. "I'm fine," she replied curtly, her voice low and crabby, like a growl that hadn't fully formed.

Kwon raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. "Yeah? 'Cause you've been zoning out all week like some NPC in power-saving mode. You sure you're not malfunctioning or something?"

She shot him a sharp look, but the effort was half-hearted. "I said I'm fine," she repeated, the edge in her tone sharpening.

"Right," he drawled, dragging the word out as if to test her patience. "Fine enough to completely blank out while I'm sitting right here. If this is what I'm paying you for, I want my money back."

She snorted, despite herself. "You're not paying me, dumbass."

"Exactly. I'm paying with my time," he shot back, leaning forward and tapping his completed homework. "Speaking of, I'm done. Like you asked, by the way. Maybe you should catch up on your part before I start charging interest?"

Y/n glanced down at her own unfinished assignments. She had barely gotten halfway through the page. It was unlike her to fall behind, and Kwon noticed. He always noticed.

"I'll finish it later," she said flatly, brushing the subject away. "Just tired, that's all."

"Tired," he repeated, voice heavy with disbelief. He studied her for a moment, his dark eyes narrowing like he was picking her apart. "Sure, let's go with that."

Y/n shot him another warning glance, daring him to push further. But Kwon, ever the opportunist, seemed to decide against it. Instead, he leaned back, hands behind his head, his trademark smirk creeping across his face.

"So, what? You're grading this at home now?" he asked, gesturing to the pile of papers she hadn't touched. "If I get anything less than an A, I'm suing."

"Yeah," she muttered. "I'll grade it tonight. If you have questions, we'll go over them tomorrow."

"Uh-huh." He didn't sound convinced but didn't press her on it either. For a moment, the room was silent, the kind of silence that made y/n's mind itch with thoughts she didn't want to entertain.

Finally, Kwon broke it with his usual brand of snark. "Well, lucky for you, my senseis are waiting. Gotta go become a karate god now. Don't miss me too much."

Y/n rolled her eyes, already shoving her books into her bag. "Right. Go flex your Geum Baeji or whatever it is this time."

Kwon grinned, clearly reveling in her annoyance. But as he stood, he added with a pointed smirk, "Since you've got so much free time on your hands, you can drop me off again."

"No," she replied instantly, not even looking up.

"Oh, c'mon," he said, dragging the words out like a whiny kid. "You're my ride, remember?"

"I wasn't your ride the first time," she shot back.

"Technically, you were," he argued, leaning on her desk as if to make his case. "And besides, you love the woods. They're dark, creepy, and full of angry wolves—just like you."

Y/n gave him a withering glare, attempting to conceal her amused yet exhausted smile, but he only grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. "Not happening." 

"Please?" he tried, switching to a mockingly sweet tone that was clearly meant to irritate her.

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"Kwon."

"With sugar sprinkled generously over the donut?"

"That's not how it..." She groaned, rubbing her temples as if to ward off a headache. "Ugh, fine. But don't expect this to become a habit."

"See?" he said, already slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Knew you'd come around. You're totally obsessed with me?"

"Keep talking, and I'll leave you there for the wolves," she snapped, grabbing her backpack. But as she followed him out, a small part of her was grateful for his ability to distract her, even if just for a moment.

The woods seemed darker than usual, the canopy above filtering just enough light to illuminate the path ahead. Kwon walked beside y/n, his usual smug demeanor back in full force as he cast her a sidelong glance.

"So," he began, his tone light but teasing, "you're really gonna pretend you're just tired? Because you've really got that 'I could absolutely annihilate someone with a Dohl-Geyh Chah-Gee (tornado axe kick)' vibe."

Y/n didn't even blink, her expression unamused. "Is that so?" she asked, voice dry, but there was a flicker of mischief in her eyes. "Maybe I should start with you."

Kwon snorted, undeterred. "Oh, yeah? What are you gonna do, huh? Use those tired-ass arms to slap me around? Face it, princess... you probably can't even throw a proper punch."

The girl slowed her pace, a crooked smile tugging at her lips. "You're so sure about that?"

"Positive," Kwon shot back, his grin widening. "I mean, no offense, but you scream 'books over brawls.' Like, come on, just admit it—you wouldn't last two seconds in a fight."

Y/n stopped walking altogether, turning to face him with a calculated smirk. "Two seconds, huh? Alright, Sensei, show me what you've got."

Kwon laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, you're serious?" He stepped closer, raising his hands to adjust hers. "Alright, first thing's first—thumb outside the fist. Unless you're aiming to break it."

She held out her hand, letting him guide her movements with an exaggerated air of innocence. "Like this?" she asked sweetly, batting her lashes as she formed a fist.

"Yeah, yeah, exactly. Now—" He stepped back, preparing to demonstrate, but before he could finish, y/n drove her fist into his open palm. The force of the punch reverberated through his arm, and he hissed through his teeth, shaking his hand out.

"Jesus Christ, l/n!" he exclaimed, eyes wide as he stared at her. "What the hell was that?"

She shrugged, her smirk widening. "Just good instincts, I guess."

"Instincts, my ass," he muttered, still flexing his hand. "Alright, be honest—where'd you learn that? You've got experience."

Y/n raised a brow, her voice casual yet dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe I just had a good teacher," she said, a playful wink following her words.

Kwon let out a skittish giggle, quickly clearing his throat as he tried to regain his composure, disgusted by his own pathetic reaction. "Right, well... uh, looks like we're here," he mumbled, deepening his voice again as he gestured ahead.

But the second they reached the clearing, Kwon noticed something strange. Kreese stood in his black gi, his eyes already fixed on y/n.

Y/n's expression hardened, her smirk dropping as her gaze locked with Kreese's. Kwon glanced between them, the tension so thick it was suffocating. Why did they seem so uneasy by each other's presence? Even from a good 10 feet away... Did they know each other or something? But before the boy could open his mouth, y/n broke the eye contact first, turning on her heel. "See you tomorrow," she called back to Kwon, her voice sharp as she stalked off, leaving him to stand awkwardly in the clearing with Kreese. Kwon's confusion deepened as he looked back at his sensei, who hadn't moved a muscle. 

"What the hell was that about?" he muttered, but the question lingered in the air, unanswered.

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