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"LET THE GAMES BEGIN..."
The locker room felt colder than it had when y/n first stepped in hours ago. The faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead buzzed incessantly, the sound grating against her nerves. Her hands moved mechanically, pulling off her gi top and folding it neatly, though her mind was a whirlwind of chaos. She wanted to scream, to break something, to demand an explanation—but instead, she was silent. Hollow. Empty.
The news had hit her like a freight train, yet she felt strangely detached. A part of her had anticipated this, though she couldn't explain how or why. Perhaps it was the cryptic warnings from Kim. Perhaps it was Kreese's almost gleeful hatred when he spoke of a certain unknown dojo. Or maybe it was the way Tory had been acting lately—nervous, guilty, as though she were carrying the weight of a thousand secrets.
But none of that had prepared her for this.
Miyagi-do...
The name itself sent a wave of bitterness coursing through her veins. Two years ago, it had been nothing more than a blip on her radar. A tiny dojo started by Daniel Larusso, the car salesman who seemed to think teaching karate made him some kind of moral authority. Back then, the only students were his own daughter, Samantha Larusso, and Robby Keene—the delinquent who had shattered her world.
Her hands trembled as she tugged at her belt, as she roughly pried it off her waist, her mind replaying the scene she'd just witnessed in agonizing detail.
The arena had been bustling with energy, teams assembling, coaches barking orders, competitors sizing each other up. She'd felt the usual buzz of pre-match jitters, the electric anticipation of stepping onto the mat. But then they'd walked in.
Miyagi-do...
Her heart had stopped the moment her eyes landed on them. Six of them, standing together as a united front. And not just any six.
At the front of the group was Robby Keene, their captain. He stood tall, confident, his posture radiating sheer tranquility. Her stomach churned at the sight of him, memories flooding back like a dam breaking. Robby, the boy who had paralyzed Miguel Diaz—her best friend, her brother in everything but blood. Robby, the boy who had run away unscathed while Miguel lay in a hospital bed fighting for his life.
And standing next to him, her gaze zeroed in on Samantha Larusso. The golden girl, the princess of karate, who had always played the victim so convincingly. y/n's blood boiled at the sight of her. Samantha, with her self-righteous lectures and her infuriating moral superiority. Samantha, who had never once taken responsibility for the chaos she helped create.
