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HAVING SPENT THE REST OF THE DAY AVOIDING EVERYONE, y/n had never felt so out of the loop. Her mind churned restlessly, replaying every word she overheard between Miguel and Robby. Miguel and Robby—once bitter foes who could hardly be in the same room without it erupting into chaos—now allies, bound by shared goals and years of growth. It was almost surreal.

Back when she last saw them, their fights had been raw and personal, fueled by anger and misunderstandings. Robby was the troubled son of Sensei Johnny Lawrence, and Miguel was his star pupil, were two halves of a rivalry that felt destined to combust. They didn't see eye to eye on anything, their clashes only intensifying when Tory and Sam became involved. Their conflicts had spilled into every aspect of their lives, culminating in the school fight that changed everything.

But now? At the Sekai Taikai, things were... different. The grudges were no longer there, or at least, they were buried beneath the need to work together. They weren't best friends by any means. That spot was most definitely still occupied by Eli. But there was a respect between Miguel and Robby. Almost a state of brotherhood, hard-won and fragile. 

Miguel had always been the optimist, the one trying to bring people together. Robby had grown from the rebellious kid to someone willing to fight for the team. And yet, the cracks were still visible—the frustrations, the insecurities. 

y/n had seen it firsthand today, and it left her feeling untethered, unsure where she fit into this new dynamic, or if she had any idea about it at all...

Dressed in her gi, the familiar black fabric hugging her frame, y/n made her way to the arena five minutes later than usual. Her head wasn't in the right place, and it showed. Her feet dragged, her mind foggy, distracted by an endless loop of thoughts. By the time she reached the main hall, the crowd had already begun to swell.

The buzz in the air was electric. Fighters from dozens of dojangs milled about, some wearing expressions of nervous anticipation, others exuding cool confidence. Some of the rival teams glared at her, openly hostile, while others didn't even notice her presence. The arena felt like a battleground before the first clash, and the energy was contagious.

Y/n tried to stay intact, weaving through the masses, dodging elbows and shoulders. Her heart raced as she struggled to navigate the chaos. Her focus sharpened when she finally caught sight of Sensei Kim's familiar ponytail in the distance. Relief flooded through her, and she quickened her pace, her goal clear.

But just as she closed the gap, a gentle hand caught her arm, pulling her back.

"Y/n/n," a familiar voice greeted her, soft yet insistent.

She turned, her eyes widening slightly as she found herself face-to-face with Miguel.

He gave her a tentative smile, his usual warmth tempered by the weight of the day. "Hey," he said. "You got my texts, right? You said you wanted to talk?"

Y/n nodded, though her mind raced. She had completely forgotten about their earlier exchange. Her weariness crept in as she tried to focus, but her overthinking threatened to overwhelm her.

Before she could answer, though, her gaze drifted past Miguel's shoulder—and froze.

There he was. John Kreese.

He stood off in the distance, his piercing eyes locked onto them like a predator watching its prey. His expression was unreadable, but the message was clear.

Her stomach twisted.

Clearing her throat, y/n straightened, forcing herself to mask her unease. "Can we talk after this round?" she asked, her voice steady despite the anxiety creeping up her spine.

Miguel hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. He followed her line of sight, and when his eyes landed on the old man, understanding dawned. His jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything about it.

"Yeah," he said after a pause, his tone quieter. "If we make it through."

Y/n's brows knit together, and she frowned. Without thinking, she reached out and smacked his shoulder—not hard, but enough to get her point across. "Don't say that," she said firmly.

Miguel blinked, surprised by the gesture.

"Miyagi-do might not have the best track record so far," she continued, "but you won the previous round for them. That has to mean something, right?"

He glanced down, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "You saw that?" he asked, almost shyly.

"Of course I did," y/n replied, her tone softening. "Everyone did. Even people from my team were praising your quick thinking, actually."

Miguel's face softened further, a hint of pride breaking through his earlier tension. He looked down, his smile growing, but before he could respond, the sound of a booming announcement cut through the arena.

"We have now entered the elimination phase of the Sekai Taikai," the announcer's voice echoed, commanding attention.

The crowd stirred, the noise level rising as fighters hurried to find their places.

Y/n snapped back to reality, the moment breaking. She stepped back, her focus returning. "We'll talk after this round, okay?"

Miguel nodded, the weight of their conversation still lingering between them. "Okay."

She offered him a small smile, and for a brief second, the tension between them eased.

"Good luck," they both said at the same time, sharing a brief chuckle before turning and walking to their respective teams.

As the girl rejoined Cobra Kai, her heart felt heavier than it had before. She didn't dare glance back, but she could feel Miguel's gaze on her, even as she steeled herself for what was to come. The eliminations were about to begin, and she needed to focus.

For her team. For herself. For everything that had brought her here.

The Cobras exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of arrogance and determination, though a bit of confusion lingered at y/n's earlier interaction with Miguel. None of them commented, though, as the booming voice of the announcer echoed throughout the arena once more.

"The dojos who do not win tonight will be headed home. The previous rounds have determined your current rankings: the number one team will face the number sixteen team. The number two team will face the number fifteen team, and so on and so forth."

The team turned their attention to the rankings board. A murmur of disbelief rippled through their group when they saw their opponent.

"Sorry, man," Lee quipped, smirking as he nudged Park. "Looks like Chausiku will be heading back to Wakanda before you can say 'Mama Africa.'"

Park groaned, shaking his head. "Yah- you can't say that, man. That's racist!"

Lee's smirk vanished instantly, his face flushing with embarrassment. "What? No way—seriously? I didn't mean it like that!" he stammered, looking genuinely horrified.

The rest of the team broke into snickers, Yoon clapping a hand on Lee's shoulder. "Relax, man. It's not that deep."

"Yeah," Park added, still grinning. "People mix us up with the Japanese team all the time anyway."

Lee still looked uncomfortable, muttering a string of apologies under his breath, but any further awkwardness was interrupted by Kwon's loud groan.

"Number three?" he muttered irritably. "We clearly deserve number one."

Yoon, ever the voice of reason, adjusted his glasses and said matter-of-factly, "Iron Dragon is at number one because they haven't taken a single loss yet."

The boy rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "Okay, fine, but we should at least be number two."

Y/n, who had been quietly studying the board, couldn't help but chime in, her voice dripping with mock seriousness. "Yeah, we could've been number two if you hadn't pulled that ridiculous flying kick last round."

Kwon frowned. "What are you talking about? That kick was awesome."

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Awesome? You literally launched yourself clean off the platform. It was like a five-second loss—world record material."

The rest of the team burst out laughing.

Kwon, trying to salvage his dignity, shrugged. "Hey, no head, no fight."

Tory, smirking, didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, and no balance, no points."

Even Park chuckled, though he quickly sobered up, running a hand through his hair. "Well, at least this round will go better. Right?"

As if on cue, the announcer's voice returned, cutting through the noise: "Now, for the rules of the event..."

The crowd quieted as a platform descended slowly from the ceiling, its edges glowing faintly under the arena lights.

"Fighters will again face off on a platform," the announcer continued, gesturing behind her.

The Cobra Kai team straightened, watching the platform take its place in the center of the arena. It wasn't just any platform—it was smaller and elevated, leaving little room for error.

"But this time," the announcer added, her voice tinged with excitement, "two fighters from each dojo are allowed on the platform at one time."

Kwon and y/n exchanged a knowing glance, the memory of Sensei Kim's earlier training flashing through their minds. The grueling drills on balance beams and the emphasis on ponytail smacks suddenly made perfect sense.

"It was all about testing balance and unity," y/n muttered under her breath, earning a slight nod of agreement from Kwon.

The announcer's voice carried on: "If one of your fighters falls... they are out. But another teammate can climb up to take their place."

Tory and Yoon shared a subtle smirk, already forming an unspoken strategy. Their coordination, thanks to their similar fighting styles, made them an obvious choice for the second pair.

"However," the announcer warned, "the fight never stops. So get up there quickly to avoid leaving your teammate in a two-on-one."

The stakes rose visibly with her final statement.

"When all the fighters of a dojo have been knocked off, the team is eliminated."

The y/h/c-haired glanced around at her teammates, her competitive spark igniting. Cobra Kai wasn't here to lose. They'd fought too hard to get to this point, and with the eliminations looming, the pressure was higher than ever.

This was their chance to prove themselves.

"Let's make it count," she said quietly, her gaze steady.

Kwon smirked, adjusting his belt. "Oh, we will..."

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