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(you're welcome ^^)
THE SOUND OF CHANTING GREW LOUDER as y/n and Miguel walked down the aquarium's dimly lit corridor, the faint smell of saltwater lingering in the air. Rows of glass tanks displayed exotic marine life, but the fish barely caught their attention anymore, except that one octopus that still followed... Instead, all focus was on the noise reverberating through the space: "Vlad! Vlad! Vlad!"
Miguel squinted, his brows furrowed. "What the hell is going on now?" he muttered.
Y/n rolled her eyes, her footsteps picking up pace. "Ignore it. It's just Kwon being Kwon," she muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Our dear captain—so full of himself he probably thinks the ocean here is cheering for him too."
Miguel arched a brow at her sharpness. "You sound... annoyed."
Y/n shrugged, feigning indifference. "Let's just say Kwon's got more balls than brain cells."
Miguel chuckled faintly but didn't push further. Though he'd only known Kwon for a short time, he already didn't like him. Their earlier exchange at the reception—an unprovoked taunt about Miyagi-do—still lingered in his mind. Kwon's arrogance grated on him, and seeing how easily the y/h/c-haired girl bristled at the mention of his name? That only added fuel to the fire.
As they approached the central hall, the source of the commotion came into view: a massive dolphin wall, cracked and weathered, with chalk marks measuring the height of each impact from the "wall-kicking game." The crowd buzzed, their energy palpable.
In the center of it all stood Vlad, the towering captain of Udar Tigra, the Russian team. At 6'5" (195 cm), he looked every inch the powerhouse he was reputed to be—broad shoulders, arms like steel cables, and a cocky smirk that rivaled Kwon's.
The Russian took a deep breath, stepping back to prepare his strike. Whispers spread through the crowd, many confident he'd crush Kwon's record.
Miguel leaned in toward y/n. "What's this? Karate... or just ego flexing?"
"Both," she said dryly. "You know Cobra Kai."
With a guttural yell, Vlad launched forward. His kick aimed high, but his timing was off—he jumped too soon, and his foot struck six inches below Kwon's mark. The sound of the miss echoed through the room.
"Черт возьми!" Vlad spat in Russian, his voice tight with frustration.
The crowd's energy shifted. Boos erupted as spectators shook their heads.
