╔. ■ .═════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════════════════════════════════════. ■ .╝

THE LOBBY WAS A MOSAIC OF HEARTBREAK, hushed conversations, and farewells. The weight of defeat hung thick in the air, palpable even in the quiet voices and muffled sobs of the defeated dojangs. Each person bore their pain differently, and yet they all felt the same hollow ache of loss.

Park sat in a corner, his headphones draped around his neck as soft music played faintly from them. Chausiku Masai, the captain of the eliminated Nigerian team, sat beside him, her fingers intertwined with his. They exchanged quiet words, their shared grief forming an unspoken bond.

"I'll call you every night," Park murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"And I'll text you every morning," Chausiku promised, squeezing his hand gently.

Their shared pain was evident, but so was the comfort they found in each other.

On the other side of the room, Lee was huddled in a corner, his phone pressed to his ear. His quiet sniffles were barely audible, but his hunched shoulders betrayed the tears streaming down his face.

"Mimi... I'm so sorry," he choked out.

Her voice on the other end was soft and soothing, a balm to his wounded heart. "Don't you dare apologize, mi amor. You did amazing. I'm so proud of you."

The boy let out a shaky breath, trying to compose himself.

"When you get home," Mimi continued, her tone laced with warmth, "I'll make you all your favorite snacks. We'll spend the whole day watching k-dramas and eating ice cream, just like when I got my first period, remember? You took care of me when the whole class laughed. Let me take care of you now."

Her words brought a small, bittersweet smile to Lee's face. "You always know what to say," he whispered.

Across the lobby, Kwon stood near the front desk, engaged in a serious conversation with the sponsors who had placed their faith—and money—in him. His face was a mask of calm determination, his tone measured and resolute.

Though defeat lingered in the back of his mind, Kwon didn't allow it to consume him. He wasn't just fighting for himself anymore; he was fighting for the future he had promised to build for himself.

Y/n, meanwhile, sat on a bench with her phone pressed to her ear. Aisha's voice on the other end was steady and reassuring, offering the kind of support only a lifelong friend could provide.

"Medusa," The girl began, using the nickname with a smile in her voice, "I hope you know how damn proud I am of you."

Y/n's fingers tightened around her phone as her eyes stung with unshed tears. "It doesn't feel like it, Aish..." she admitted softly.

"Don't do that to yourself," Aisha said firmly. "What happened wasn't fair, and everyone knows it. Your team knows it. Your senseis know it. Hell, even people who don't know the rules know it. Even tiktok—fucking tiktok— is full of supportive comments and thirst edits!"

Y/n let out a weak laugh, the sound tinged with gratitude and sorrow.

"You're stronger than this, y/n/n..." Aisha continued. "And you've got people who love you and believe in you, no matter what. You hear me?"

The y/h/c-haired girl nodded, though Aisha couldn't see her. "I hear you," she whispered, her voice wavering.

But not everyone had someone to lean on.

Tory sat alone, perched atop her suitcase on the edge of the lobby. Her gaze was fixed on the floor, her hands clenched tightly around the purple colored bottle cap that held a lot of significance to her. 

The rest of the team kept their distance, their silence cutting deeper than words ever could.

Even Sensei Kreese had barely acknowledged her. His disappointment was written all over his face, and Tory could feel the weight of his unspoken judgment pressing down on her. She had let her emotions get the best of her.

And it had cost them everything.

The knowledge stung, sharp and unforgiving. As she stared out the window, the reality of their imminent departure sank in. The rest of the team was headed back to Seoul, while she was bound for Los Angeles.

She wasn't sure if she'd ever see y/n again. Or Yoon...

The thought made her chest tighten, the lump in her throat growing harder to swallow.

On the other side, Kwon bowed deeply to his sponsors, his posture rigid with the weight of gratitude and obligation. Their understanding of his family's precarious situation had been unexpected, but he didn't let relief show on his face. 

Instead, he thanked them formally, every word measured and respectful, before they dismissed him.

As he turned to leave, his sharp eyes scanned the lobby, searching for his girl. Instead, his gaze landed on Robby Keene, the captain of Miyagi-do, who stood in quiet conversation with Tory Nichols, the fraudulent captain of Cobra Kai...

Kwon's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. The memory of their match, the stolen victory, and the humiliation burned fresh in his mind.

"행운의 놈," he muttered under his breath, his voice low but venomous.

He stormed toward them, his strides long and purposeful. As he drew closer, he added in his accented English, "It means, uh... how would you say in American? Lucky bastard."

Both Robby and Tory turned at the sound of his voice.

"What happened in the match yesterday," Kwon snarled, his dark eyes locked onto Robby, "will never happen again."

Robby, ever composed, didn't back down. He stepped forward, matching Kwon's intensity with a calm defiance. His gaze flickered briefly to Tory before settling back on Kwon.

"It's a good thing I don't have to find out," He said coolly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Lucky me."

The casual remark was a dagger, twisting the wound of the Korean dojo's defeat. Kwon's fists clenched tighter, his knuckles whitening as his entire body tensed with restrained fury.

From across the room, y/n spotted the confrontation. She had just ended her call with Aisha, her mood fragile but bolstered by her friend's encouragement. The sight of Kwon's seething rage and Robby's smug stance set off alarm bells in her mind.

"Yah!" she called out, her voice sharp, her inner Korean surfacing in her frustration. She closed the distance quickly, tugging on Kwon's shirt to pull him back.

"This isn't worth it," she scolded him in Korean, her tone firm but not unkind. "Go cool off."

Her hand pressed lightly against his chest, urging him to step away.

Kwon glared at her, his pride battling with her reasoning. For a moment, it seemed like he might resist, but then he exhaled sharply, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. He gave Robby one last withering look before turning on his heel and walking away.

Robby, too, seemed to falter under y/n's gaze. Unable—or perhaps unwilling—to face her, he turned to Tory.

"Get home safe, please..." he said quietly, his voice lacking its earlier edge. "I'll see you there."

And with that, he left, his retreat almost as tense as his arrival.

Now, it was just y/n and Tory standing in the center of the room. The weight of their respective emotions hung between them, unspoken but undeniable.

The blonde shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting to the floor before meeting y/n's. There was so much to say, and yet the silence stretched between them like an insurmountable wall.

Y/n stared dead ahead at the retreating boy, her fists clenched at her sides as she fumed over the altercation. The sheer audacity of Miyagi-do made her blood boil. Weak and pathetic fighters who fouled their way to victory had no right to be cocky.

And yet, Robby's smugness lingered in her mind, gnawing at her. The way he gloated like their win wasn't tainted by foul play made her stomach churn.

But it wasn't just Robby. It was all of them. Miyagi-do's sanctimonious attitude, their pretense of honor while bending every rule—it disgusted her. And then there was Samantha Larusso.

Sam hadn't apologized. 

Not a single word of remorse for what she'd done. That knee to y/n's face wasn't an accident; it was deliberate. And yet, the girl had watched her celebrate right after the match, cheering like nothing had happened, like she hadn't fouled and cost Cobra Kai their rightful place in the semi-finals.

"She's lucky we're out," y/n muttered to herself, her jaw tightening. "Because if I saw her again, I swear—" She stopped herself, letting out an exasperated breath.

Her temper was volatile, and she knew it. But this? This wasn't just a grudge; this was betrayal. Cobra Kai had earned that win. They'd fought harder, trained longer, and given everything they had. Yet here they were, packing up and heading home as losers while Miyagi-do basked in their stolen victory.

Unbeknownst to her, on the other side of the hotel, Samantha Larusso had sat alone in her room, her head in her hands. The guilt was eating her alive.

Sam had replayed that moment in her head a hundred times. She hadn't meant to foul y/n... Especially not after the water was flowing under the bridge again. But the reaction had been instinctive—a blur of adrenaline and fear. But when she'd thrown that knee, she hadn't seen the y/h/c-haired girl in her Cobra Kai gi at the Sekai Taikai.

She'd seen a memory.

West Valley High.

The staircase.

Sam's breath hitched as the flashback clawed its way into her mind.

She had seen y/n again, back in that school hallway. The girl had thrown her to the ground with a force that knocked the wind out of her. Her back hit the cold, hard floor, and before she could scramble to her feet, y/n l/n had pinned her down, her face twisted with an almost feral rage.

"No mercy, bitch." The girl had hissed, her voice sharp and venomous.

And then Tory had appeared, her spiked bracelet gleaming under the fluorescent lights. The two of them had been a team that day—a relentless duo with y/n as the ruthless enforcer.

Sam blinked rapidly, trying to shake the memory, but it lingered, sharp and visceral. The terror of that day had stayed with her, buried deep in her subconscious until the Sekai Taikai brought it all rushing back.

That was why she hadn't apologized.

It wasn't arrogance or pride—it was fear.

Because Sam knew y/n could be an angel, kind and forgiving, someone who showed mercy when none was expected.

But she also knew y/n could be something else entirely. A tempest. A force of nature. A storm that left nothing but destruction in its wake.

Sam had seen both sides of her, and she wasn't willing to risk which version she'd encounter now.

So, while the girl seethed in anger, plotting all the ways she could have taken revenge if given another chance, Sam sat paralyzed by guilt and fear, unable to confront the girl she had wronged.

And maybe, just maybe, neither of them would ever truly make peace with what had happened.

As y/n paced back and forth, her voice dripping with frustration as she grumbled, "Those Miyagi-dorks never deserved that win. Especially Keene. Kwon could've taken him blindfolded and tied up. There's no debate."

Tory rolled her eyes, leaning back against the wall with her arms crossed. She had heard enough of this rant over the last twelve hours to last her a lifetime.

"Maybe," Tory said with a shrug, her tone sharp, "but he didn't. So, maybe he shouldn't have let Robby kick his ass."

Y/n froze mid-step, her eyes narrowing as she turned to face her friend. "Excuse me?"

Tory shrugged again, but there was a subtle edge in her voice now. "I'm just saying, his loss cost us all. Including me."

Y/n's jaw clenched as she stared at Tory, the air between them growing tenser by the second. "Kwon's loss?" she repeated, her voice cold. "Are you seriously trying to pin this on him?"

"I'm just being real," Tory said, lifting her chin. "If he was as good as everyone thinks, we wouldn't be in this mess."

Y/n let out a bitter scoff, her hands curling into fists. "Oh, right, because you've been such an asset to Cobra Kai lately, huh?" she shot back, her tone venomous. "Losing to Svetlana, Vivienne—and let's not forget helping fucking Miyagi-do. You're the reason we lost, Tory. Not Kwon. You."

Tory's eyes widened at the accusation, her face flashing with hurt before it hardened. "It wasn't like that," she snapped, stepping closer. "Kwon never had his head in the game after you got taken away."

"Oh, don't you dare—" y/n's voice rose, her body trembling with anger.

Tory cut her off, her voice rising to match y/n's. "Don't I dare? Are you even hearing yourself? You think you're so high and mighty, y/n, but let's face it—you don't care about anyone but him!"

"Maybe because he actually earned it?" y/n yelled back. "You? You're a traitor, Tory! A burden! You've been dead weight this entire event!"

The words hit Tory like a slap to the face, but before she could retaliate, y/n delivered the final blow. Her voice turned cruel, her words sharp as a blade.

"Would it have even mattered if we made it to the finals anyway? Zara would've destroyed you. Then she'd celebrate with her boyfriend—the same one you helped yesterday, betraying Cobra Kai. At least Kwon had a good shot winning the Male Division."

Tory's breath caught, her face going pale before it flushed with anger. She stood up straight, her fists clenching. "Say that again," she dared, her voice low and dangerous.

Y/n scoffed, stepping closer. "You heard me."

The shove came fast and hard, Tory's palms colliding with the y/h/c-haired girl's shoulders and sending her stumbling back a step.

"You little bitch," y/n hissed, her voice venomous.

In one fluid motion, she spun, her leg arcing through the air in a vicious heel kick aimed straight at Tory's head. Tory narrowly ducked, her heart pounding as she scrambled to block y/n's next attack.

"L/n, stop it!" Yoon shouted, from a corner, but y/n didn't stop. Her strikes were relentless, her eyes blazing red with fury.

"Everyone was right, you didn't deserve to be captain!" y/n snarled, her voice cracking with raw emotion. "I never should've surrendered my captaincy! Winning could've saved someone's life!"

The last words froze Tory in place, her defenses faltering as y/n's fists closed in.

Before her punch could land, strong arms wrapped around her from behind, lifting her off her feet. She thrashed wildly, her fists swinging as she tried to break free.

"Let me go!" y/n yelled, her voice a mix of rage and anguish.

But the grip didn't loosen. Instead, she found herself swung over a broad shoulder, her thighs pinned firmly as the figure began walking away.

"...Who needs to cool off now, huh?" 

2.4k words