𝙎𝙣𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙚 {𝙏𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙉𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙨}

𝘽𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠

Zeke stretched alongside Miguel, Hawk, and Aisha, their movements in sync as they prepared for the day's training. The atmosphere in the dojo was lighthearted, as it usually was before Johnny came in barking orders. A few new recruits hesitantly stepped inside, glancing around the room like they had just walked into enemy territory.

Hawk smirked as he noticed them approaching. "What do you think? Shit-head One and Shit-head Two?"

Aisha scoffed, looking the newcomers up and down. One of them was a tall, muscular black kid, his friend looking slightly more unsure beside him. "I was thinking more Mary-Kate and Ass-hat."

Zeke chuckled, adding his own insult, just to push the hazing a little further.

The taller kid straightened up, clearing his throat. "Well, I'm—"

"Did I say you could speak?" Hawk cut him off, tilting his head challengingly.

Miguel sighed, clearly the only one willing to ease their torment. "Guys, look, they're just messing with you."

The second kid looked relieved. "Thanks, man."

Zeke, however, wasn't ready to let them off so easily. "Besides, everyone knows your names are Ass-face and Douchebag. You don't like it? You can leave."

The taller kid paused before shrugging. "Dibs on Ass-face."

The group laughed, but the lightheartedness of the moment was quickly broken as the dojo's doors swung open.

Zeke turned, immediately recognizing the older man who stepped inside. John Kreese.

Kreese's sharp eyes scanned the room, lingering for a moment on a student wearing a shirt that read The Future is Female. He muttered under his breath, barely audible but dripping with disdain. "Jesus Christ."

Hawk, noticing him as well, whispered, "Who's that?"

Zeke's jaw tightened slightly. "Hold on." He stepped forward, standing in front of his grandfather. "Hey, Gramps."

Kreese nodded to him but said nothing. His focus shifted past Zeke, examining the other students with a critical gaze.

Miguel, trying to be polite, stepped up. "Hey, uh, can we help you, sir?"

Kreese's voice was low, unreadable. "No." His eyes swept over them before a smirk tugged at his lips. "But maybe I can help you."

Before anyone could question him further, Johnny emerged from his office, looking irritated. "What the hell is wrong with you? I said tomorrow."

Kreese shrugged. "Oh. Tomorrow, today, who can keep track, huh?"

🐍

Minutes later, the students were lined up in their gis, waiting for instruction.

Johnny stood before them, addressing the room. "Class, we have a visitor. This is Mr. Kreese. He's just an observer. Pretend like he's not even here."

Zeke felt the weight of his grandfather's gaze on him, watching closely, assessing him in a way that made his skin crawl.

Johnny clapped his hands. "Mr. Diaz, warm them up."

Miguel nodded. "Fighting positions!"

The class moved in unison.

"Front kick."

They executed the move.

"Forward strike."

They struck the air with precision.

"Side dab."

The entire class dabbed simultaneously, breaking into laughter.