𝐉𝐮𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭 | 𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐞 (DISCONTINUED)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 22

"When I look around today, I see the future. Now it's no secret our past has been flawed. Sensei Kreese fell victim to his demons. But John Kreese is not Cobra Kai," Silver said. "We are. We've already shown we're champions. But that championship is merely a springboard to new heights. That's why I've brought in some of the finest Senseis in the Valley. Consider this their job interview. Let's all give it up. The champ is in the house," Silver started clapping as the rest followed.

Alora resisted the urge to roll her eyes and reluctantly clapped too. Tory walked into the dojo and bowed to the rest of the students before going and joining them.

"She's allowed to be a little late. Today," Silver raised his finger at the teens who laughed. "Alright. Warm up. The senseis will instruct you. Let's see what they know," Silver finished, walking back to his office.

"Yo let's go," Kyler said, slapping Kenny on the back. Alora scoffed at the gesture and walked away.

She went to the complex striking pad and started working on her kicks. She kept kicking the pads until a hand came out and struck her leg down before it reached the pad. She huffed and swiveled around to berate whoever it was but the piercing eyes that met hers made her stop in her tracks. They were a deep brown in the middle with hazel outlining the edges; almost identical to hers.

"Your kicks are sloppy," the man said simply, hands folded behind his back as he stared at her with a calculating gaze.

"So I've heard," Alora rolled her eyes, turning back to the striking pad. "That's what I'm trying to fix if you didn't notice."

"No, I didn't notice," he said, stepping closer to her. "Your skills are abysmal and it doesn't look like you're fixing it or even trying to."

"Look, Sensei whatever your last name is-" she turned around to face him but was thrown off by how close he was to her. She quickly recovered though. "You can stand here and criticize me all day or you can actually be helpful."

The man stared at her for a moment, an emotion flashed in his eyes that Alora couldn't quite identify because it was gone as soon as it came.

"Sensei Sanchez," he answered, hardly. "And you, young lady, never speak to me like that again or there will be repercussions. Understand?" he asked, looking down to make eye contact with her.

Her eyes widened slightly and then narrowed. She wasn't sure who he was talking to but it couldn't have been her. Nonetheless, she bit back her response and folded her hands behind her back. "Yes, Sensei."

"Now, let's start. Shall we?" Sensei Sanchez asked. Alora gave a curt nod and backed up to give him room in front of the striking pad.

A few hours later, Alora fell onto Finlay's bed with a big sigh. She kicked off her shoes and curled up into his covers.

"Oi! What're you doing?" Finlay asked, coming out of the bathroom. "You're sweaty and I just washed my sheets."

"Sensei brought in a bunch of new senseis to "help" or whatever," she said, closing her eyes.

"Ok and what does that have to do with you getting sweat all over my clean sheets," Finlay stressed.

She sighed again and opened her eyes to look at him. "One of them, Sensei Sanchez, was really on my case about my kicks. He was pushier than Sensei Silver if you can believe it."

"Sanchez? Like your last name? What if he's your long-lost family member?" Finlay joked.

"As if," Alora rolled her eyes. "Sanchez in Hispanic people is like the last name Smith with white people."

"True," Finlay shrugged. "So anyways. I wanted to talk to you about something."

"About what?" she asked, skeptically eyeing him.