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THE GYM WAS EERILY QUIET AS SENSEI KIM DA-EUN SAT CROSS-LEGGED ON THE FLOOR, her eyes closed and her breathing steady. The rhythmic pulse of her meditation filled the room, each inhale and exhale sharpening her focus. She allowed herself a rare moment of satisfaction as her thoughts lingered on y/n l/n's performance. The girl had impressed her—finally. For she had struck first, struck hard, and, most importantly, shown no mercy.
The strategy was calculated, deliberate. Exploiting the boy's hesitation, his unwillingness to go too far against her, y/n had used her lessons well. Kim admired the ruthlessness, the precise execution. She was beginning to see the makings of a true Cobra Kai champion in the girl.
The buzzing of her phone shattered the stillness, pulling her from her thoughts. Her eyes snapped open, irritation flashing across her face. She glanced at the screen: John Kreese.
With a sigh, she picked up, her voice sharp as a blade. "What is it?"
"Da-eun," Kreese greeted, his tone gravelly but curt. "How are things going there?"
"Progressing," she replied, plucking out a stray hair from her face as she stood, stomping at it for clouding her vision. "Our girl shows promise. l/n be ready."
"Good," Kreese said, though there was a heaviness to his voice. "Because things here are... less than ideal."
Her brow furrowed. "What happened?"
"Bad timing. Nichols' mother passed a few days ago. I'm not sure how the girl's going to cope."
Kim let out a derisive laugh, the sound as sharp as a slap. "Dumb luck," she muttered coldly. "She always was a wildcard. Emotion clouds judgment, and now it's going to cost her."
Kreese's silence spoke volumes.
Kim continued, undeterred. "It doesn't matter. I'll be having a word with y/n's parents soon. The girl is staying, I'll make sure of it. She'll be our female champion."
"She'd better be," Kreese growled. "Because without Nichols, we're down a fighter. Hana dropping out left us no backup. We're running out of options."
Kim's lips curved into a cold smile. "You'll pursue Nichols," she said, her voice low and commanding. "Bring her back. I don't care how. She's not weak—she'll recover. She has no choice."
"And if she doesn't?" Kreese's tone was darker now, a warning laced within the words.
"Then you find someone else," Kim snapped. "Tory Nichols is the closest thing you have to a fighter who knows what it means to survive. Push her harder. She'll thank you for it later."
