Although the crowd was cheering at the top of their lungs in the bleachers, Miguel could hear nothing but the pounding of his own heartbeat, the slow inhale and exhale of his breath. He stepped into the circle on the blue-and-gold mats, staring ahead at the hostile line of Cobras standing at the edge across from him.
Kyler glowered at him, and beside him, Tory did the same. Either of them looked like they would have loved to tear him apart. And between them, Sensei Kreese's smile was as insincere as a serpent's as he nodded for his new champion to join Miguel on the mats.
Robby locked his eyes on him. Miguel's breath caught in the back of his throat. His fingers twitched by his sides, and he curled them into tight fists to keep his hands from shaking. This was it. This was the moment he'd been training for.
Miguel glanced over his shoulder, looking for Sensei Lawrence or Hawk or any of the others for last-second support. He gasped, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead upon discovering the Eagle Fangs were nowhere in sight. Neither were Mr. LaRusso, Sam, or the rest of Miyagi-Do. His eyes quickly scanned the crowd of spectators, scoping for his mother and grandmother, but the crowd was nothing more than a loud, faceless monolith. And Miguel realized he was alone.
"Strike first!"
Miguel whipped back around and only had a second to throw his arms up to block an incoming kick from his opponent. Robby recovered fast, spinning around like a tornado to deliver a backhanded punch to Miguel's ribs, sending him double-over with a groan with the force of the hit.
"Strike hard!"
There was no break to declare the point. Miguel grimaced when Robby kept going. He ducked, evading his enemy's roundhouse kick, and then swept his own leg out, hoping to wipe Robby off his feet. But the other boy jumped in the air, flipping straight over his head to land safely behind him. Miguel didn't have enough time to turn around and defend himself before Robby's fist slammed between his shoulder blades.
Miguel stumbled forward, catching his footing before he fell over, and he gritted his teeth at catching the sight of Sensei Kreese's cold smirk greeting him from the sidelines. He was mocking him, amused by how badly the previous All-Valley champion was performing in front of their audience. And he saw the old man mouth the words to his star student.
"No mercy!"
Twisting his waist, Miguel raised his arm to block Robby's backhanded punch, and he retaliated with his own forward hit, aiming his knuckles at Robby's chest. His opponent jumped back, swinging his leg to try and kick his face. Miguel ducked, closing the gap and directing another punch. Robby pushed his arm out of the way harmlessly, and Miguel leaped backward to avoid his follow-up kick.
Robby didn't stop, swinging back around at Miguel as fast as lightning with another kick. This time, Miguel wasn't fast enough to defend himself. His enemy's foot made contact with his exposed chest, and suddenly Miguel was falling.
"Winner, Robby!" came the thundering announcement. "Victory goes to Cobra Kai!"
Cobra Kai, Cobra Kai, Cobra Kai….
As the chant carried like a wave, Miguel expected his back to finally hit the mat. But he kept falling and falling, as if kicked from a much greater height. And when he looked up, Robby was no longer standing in front of him on the mats, but was instead staring down at him from over a balcony. And he simply watched while Miguel fell, fell, fell, plummeting to the stairs below….
"No!" Miguel's eyes snapped open, his head jolting up from his pillow while the single word escaped from his throat.
As his vision adjusted to the darkness of his bedroom, the sole light coming from the alarm clocking on his nightstand showing him it was only 4:27 AM, he raised a shaky hand to wipe the sweat pouring from his forehead.
A nightmare, he realized, shoulders rising and falling to his rapid breaths while he attempted to relax. It had been a while since he'd had one like that plague the theater of his mind. Just a dream, was all, he reminded himself. Nothing about it had to be a prophecy. Nothing in it had to come true. Robby wasn't going to hurt him like that again.
Once his sight had acclimated, Miguel's gaze drifted over to his desk, where the dim, blue light from the alarm clock reflected off the metal of his championship trophy. He stared at it there in the silence of his room, not breaking until he had to blink back the sweat that had dripped into his eyes.
Wiping at them with the heel of his palm, he then turned over in his bed and rested his head back on the pillow. He let his eyes linger on his trophy until his heavy lids closed for another attempt at sleep, hoping this time his dreams would be more peaceful.
The water splashed when Miguel tossed a small pebble into the koi pond. He watched the ripples travel farther and farther from the drop point while he continued picking blades of grass absent-mindedly with his fingers. His brow was furrowed in deep thought, which dulled out the chatter from everyone around him while they all took an extended break at the Senseis' orders.
One week. They were finally down to the last week before the All-Valley Tournament. What seemed like forever ago was now upon them. The future of karate in the Valley rested on the outcome of what was going to happen in seven measly days.
And Miguel wanted to pull his hair out just thinking about it. He settled on pulling out grass instead, but that didn't help much with the knowledge that so much was coming to a head here soon. He couldn't help catastrophizing. He never used to be prone to it. He certainly hadn't been anywhere near this worried before last year's Tournament, but a lot less had been riding on that one.
What if he lost? What if they all lost to Cobra Kai? What if Kreese won and forced Sensei Lawrence and Mr. LaRusso to close their dojos? Miguel already had Cobra Kai taken away from him, he couldn't stand the thought of losing Eagle Fang, too. To say nothing of the long-term consequences of Kreese's style of karate spreading across the Valley.
They had to win. He had to win. The whole Valley was depending on him.
Miguel yanked out another fistful of grass, tearing the blades into smaller pieces in his hands. His eyes lingered on the false tranquility on the surface of the koi pond, now that the ripples had dissipated.
"Hey," came a voice at his side. Miguel glanced up to see Sam standing there, giving him a small, almost timid smile.
He stood up, wiping the loose grass blades from his shorts. "Hey," he replied back.
"Something wrong?" asked Sam, keeping a casual air as she inquired it. "You look like you've got a lot on your mind."
It sounded like an invitation to unload, as a friend might offer. It was probably the most at-ease they'd been with each other since their break up. So Miguel returned her smile and accepted her offer to lend an ear.
"I guess I'm still a little worried about how the All-Valley's gonna go," he confessed. That was the understatement of the century. "Wouldn't mind having another month to practice, and not just because that would put Hawk back in the Tournament."
Sam rolled her shoulders. "We've all been training so hard, I don't think a month would make much of a difference at this point," she said. "Plus, that would only give Cobra Kai more time to improve, too. I think we're all as ready as we're ever going to be."
"You got a point there," Miguel had to admit.
Standing up straighter, Sam crossed her arms and let the smile on her face brighten up so it was friendlier and a little less timid. "And I know you're upset about Hawk being out of the Tournament," she said, "but you should have more faith in the rest of us."
Miguel nodded, glancing across the yard over at the other guys, who were congregated by the water cooler talking with one another. "I do," he said, turning his eyes back on Sam. "And, I mean, I know you're gonna do great." Of course she would. Sam was one of the most skilled fighters in the dojo. Miguel would have been shocked if she didn't make it to at least the semi-finals. If he was lucky, perhaps he would be facing her in the finals, instead of Robby.
"And don't think you got the championship in the bag," said Sam, arching an eyebrow at him, almost like she'd read his mind about them fighting in the last round. "I've got my own eye on that title. And I already picked out a place in my room for the trophy, although I suspect my dad's gonna want it to go into the home dojo, along with his two All-Valley championship trophies."
Miguel chuckled. "Well, good luck with that," he offered. "I'm still thinking that trophy would look better next to my own. No offense."
A light-hearted giggle followed that remark, but then Sam's grin eased back into its former shyness. She bit her bottom lip and shrank into her shoulders some. "Listen, Miguel, about us?" she asked, staring at him now with eyes sadder than before. "I really did want it to work."
Miguel's vision fell to his shoes for a moment, then he nodded again. "I know," he said, raising his sight back to her. "I did, too. And I hope we can still be friends."
"I'd like that, too," Sam offered back.
He knew from her tone and the look on her face his words weren't much of a comfort for any heartache he might have caused her, but they were nevertheless true. If the circumstances of them getting back together hadn't been wrapped up in both of them having so many hangups about each other's exes, perhaps the karate war wouldn't have been the tipping point that drove them to separate again in the first place. But feelings had been raw and words had been said.
He wished he'd been more mature. But he wanted to be more sensible with his reality now. A part of him would always care for Sam, and if she ever needed him, he'd be there for her. But he'd finally moved on. He was with Hawk now.
Still, Miguel gave Sam a warm grin and hoped that showed her he wished nothing more than that she would also find luck with someone else who would make her happy, too.
Giving her a comforting pat on the shoulder, Miguel turned around and looked over to find Hawk again. Spotting him talking with the guys, he made his way over the group by the water cooler, picking up on their conversation as he closed the gap between them.
"For real, Hawk, it's no big deal," said Mitch, shrugging his shoulders. "I can give you a ride on my bike. We should be able to tie your crutches down or something, we'll figure it out."
Demetri let out a single, dismissive laugh. "So you can break his other leg on that deathtrap?"
"Yeah, that does sound like a boneheaded idea, Mitch," agreed Chris, staring at him with an unimpressed expression on his face.
Mitch narrowed his eyes. "I don't see you volunteering to drive him," he threw back.
"C'mon, man, I got work after practice, you know that," retorted Chris.
"What's going on?" asked Miguel, stepping up to stand between Hawk and Mitch.
Hawk told him, "I need a ride to the tattoo parlor. I gotta get Rico to touch up the hawk on my back since I changed my hair color."
Demetri raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You seriously can't wait until you get your brace taken off?"
"No, I can't," stated Hawk bluntly, giving his friend a hard look that showed he wasn't exaggerating.
"Eagle Fangs! Crowd around!"
At that order, they all turned their heads to watch Sensei Lawrence step through the open door leading into the backyard, carrying a big cardboard box in his hands. Dropping the box on the porch, he gestured to the Miyagi-Do students and said, "The rest of you, go drink some water or do some meditation or something."
His flippant dismissal didn't persuade the Miyagi-Dos to stray too far, with Demetri and Chris muttering some choice remarks under their breath about Sensei Lawrence's continued lack of social graces, but the students from his dojo strolled over to stand in front of him.
"Hey, Sensei, what's in the box?" asked Mitch.
"It's the week before the All-Valley, what do you think?" shot back Sensei Lawrence, reaching down to open the box. "It's your new gis."
Miguel, Hawk, Mitch, Bert, all the Eagle Fangs exchanged excited faces at that news, grinning from ear-to-ear. The time had been so quickly approaching, Miguel had started to worry they might not get new uniforms in time, or that they'd be forced to wear the emblem of Miyagi-Do. And he meant no offense to that dojo, he'd come to learn a lot from Mr. LaRusso after all, but Miguel wanted to make sure when they faced Cobra Kai, that they were fighting for Eagle Fang.
"Diaz!" called out Sensei Lawrence, picking up the folded gi at the top of the stack and presenting it to Miguel.
Once he took it in his hands, Miguel unfolded it to examine. It was very similar in appearance to the old Cobra Kai gis they'd worn at the previous year's All-Valley Tournament, a carbon copy he might even say. Sensei had clearly ripped off the style, which was fine in Miguel's opinion. Black, sleeveless, although these new ones had red trimming where there had previously been yellow. And when Miguel turned it over, there was the Eagle Fang logo embroidered on the back.
A smile curled around the corner of Miguel's mouth as he took it all in and ran his hand over the eagle's head.
Accepting his own uniform while Sensei Lawrence called up Bert to collect his, Mitch turned to Miguel and exclaimed, "Oh man, these are so badass!"
"Yeah," agreed Hawk, looking down at the uniforms in his friends' hands, "at least you guys won't have to wear the Miyagi-Do colors."
"Hawk!"
Hawk's head flew up at the sound of his name, worried for a second he was going to be reprimanded by Sensei Lawrence for his slight dig. But Sensei Lawrence only stood there, holding out a uniform for him, inviting him to take it. "I get one?" he asked, eyebrows rising in surprise. "But I can't fight."
"Yeah, but I still expect you to stand by your team," stated Sensei Lawrence as Hawk hobbled the couple of strides up to him. "This isn't Cobra Kai, we don't toss our students out just because they can't fight. Eagles fly as a flock, together."
"Well, actually, eagles are solitary hunters," pointed out Bert.
Sensei Lawrence shot his young student a look and said, "I know what I'm talking about, Bert."
Hawk accepted his gi graciously and even smirked when Sensei Lawrence gave him a firm pat on the back before he turned around to return to the others.
"And you'll look way more badass wearing that than a cheerleading outfit, right?" joked Mitch with a snort.
Miguel backhanded him for it, but Hawk joked right back, "If you want me to come up with a special cheer just for you when you kick some Cobra ass, just say so. But you know what rhymes best with Mitch, don't you?"
"Ha! Right on, dude," Mitch laughed, punching Hawk playfully on the shoulder.
While the other guys shuffled over to pack their new gis away into their gym bags, Miguel walked up to Sensei Lawrence again, grasping the uniform tightly in his hands, almost hugging it close to him. His stomach clenched, and he wondered if he really should voice the concern lingering at the tip of his tongue. "Sensei, can I ask a question?" he inquired, deciding to go for it, shifting the weight on his legs while he stood there beside him.
Tossing the now-empty cardboard box aside, Sensei Lawrence wiped his hands on his joggers and answered, "Go for it."
Licking his bottom lip nervously, Miguel came out with it and asked, "Do you want me to win the All-Valley Tournament?"
Sensei Lawrence almost did a double-take. Scrunching his brows to the bridge of his nose, he retorted, "What kind of stupid question is that?"
Doubt flooded over Miguel, realizing how insecure and childish he must have sounded asking such a question. Yet he powered forward. This was something he needed to get off his chest now, or he never would before the Tournament. "Sensei, I'm serious," he said. "Back in April, Mr. LaRusso had a talk with me about how it's been taking a toll on you, training us knowing we'll be facing against Robby at the All-Valley."
Sensei Lawrence sighed in aggravation and rolled his eyes, rubbing a hand down his haggard face. "Yeah, that sounds about right for LaRusso," he muttered, eyes flashing to the inside of the dojo, where Mr. LaRusso probably was. "Always sticking his nose in my business."
Unable to hold it in anymore, Miguel blurted out his real concern. "If it comes down to it, who do you want to see win in the finals, me or Robby?"
Sensei Lawrence's face tightened, but Miguel stayed on his eyes. Sensei couldn't mask the unhappiness that came over them, even if he hid the rest of his expression behind the same stoic veneer he always did whenever a difficult subject came between the two of them. And after a long minute of silence, Sensei finally said, "I…I can't answer that question."
Swallowing the lump that had been jumping up and down in his throat, Miguel felt like his stomach dropped at hearing that reply. He couldn't lie to himself and pretend he'd actually expected any other response, however. After all, what did he really imagine Sensei Lawrence would say to that? That he'd assure him he wanted Miguel to beat his son again? Especially with so much riding on this? Sensei would never want to see that, ever.
"Okay," he mumbled, taking a couple of steps back. "I understand."
Miguel turned around to walk away, hanging his head down and mentally berating himself for even broaching that subject with his Sensei in the first place. There was no way around it. As much as he thought fighting Robby at the All-Valley might give him some closure for what had happened between them, Miguel now hoped someone else would get to fight Robby and knock him out first. At least then Sensei wouldn't be disappointed in him.
He wanted to win. But he didn't want it to feel wrong if he did.
"Miguel, wait."
He stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. "Sensei?"
Sensei Lawrence closed the gap between them. "I don't want you to be worried about any of that at the Tournament, alright?" he said, placing a hand on Miguel's shoulder and giving it a tight, reassuring squeeze. "I've watched you train your ass off. You deserve your shot at being a two-time champ. Robby's my responsibility, not yours. As long as you fight your hardest and fight fair, I'll be proud of you, no matter what happens."
Miguel wanted to convince himself those words were enough to untwist the knots tugging at his stomach. And a part of him was genuinely glad to hear his Sensei assure him he'd be proud, regardless of the outcome. A part of him needed to hear that. So why did Sensei's words also make him feel a little sick?
Standing there as awkwardly as he was at that moment, Miguel understood then that there was no way to guarantee how things would play out until they actually did. He needed to prepare himself for anything to happen, whether it be the best or the worst. Which would be easier said than done.
"Thanks, Sensei," Miguel replied with a small smile, stepping away to join the others where they all stood next to their bags.
Hawk leaned on his crutches, glancing between Sensei Lawrence and Miguel as the latter knelt down on the porch to put away his gi in his backpack. "Everything good?"
"Yep," answered Miguel, zipping his backpack before tossing it back on the porch and standing up. This wasn't something he could go deep into with Hawk. He didn't understand the predicament he was in. Hawk would just tell him to kick Robby's ass and screw what Sensei Lawrence thought about it. He almost wished he could have that cavalier attitude about it, too. "Just needed to check with Sensei about something, that's all."
"Speaking of Sensei," said Hawk, "you think he'd drop me off at the tattoo parlor on the way home?"
Miguel laughed and shook his head. Hawk really was committed to getting his tattoo touched up asap. It made him wish he had a car so he could drive him there himself. "Actually, he might if you ask him."
Hawk grinned. "Wanna come with?" he asked. "There's a B-Dubs next door to the parlor, we could catch the Lakers game and scarf some wings. Then I'll pay for the Uber back."
"The cabin fever's really been getting to you, hasn't it?" asked Miguel, grimacing with sympathy. He was beginning to feel it second-hand the more time they spent together stuck at Hawk's house, and he'd already gotten plenty of it himself when he'd been secluded at home during his recovery. Hawk was at least fortunate enough to be around all of them at the dojo while his knee healed.
"It's killing me, man," Hawk chuckled. "I can't wait to get this brace off at the end of the month. After that, you and me are hitting the PCH. Maybe I'll take you to a real biker bar so you can get shitfaced to celebrate your All-Valley victory. But until then, B-Dubs is about the best I can do."
Patting Hawk on the back, Miguel's smile reached his eyes as he told him, "It's a date."
"Alright, everyone, can I have all of your attention over here for a moment?"
Everyone's heads turned around again to the door as this time it was Mr. LaRusso stepping out onto the porch, clapping his hands together. Sensei Lawrence came up to stand next to him, arms crossed over his chest, giving him a look that Miguel could only guess had to do with what he told him about Robby, and he imagined they were going to have an argument over it later.
In the meantime, though, Mr. LaRusso continued to address the group. "Y'know, I look at all of you now and sometimes I still can't believe how far each of you has come over the last several months. And not just individually, but as a team. Back in January, there were seriously days when I didn't think merging the dojos was gonna work out. But although it's been a rough go at times, I've watched with my own eyes while Miyagi-Do and Eagle Fang have worked together, overcome our differences, and become stronger for it."
The students all grinned at each other. Whereat the beginning of the year, there had been many lingering feelings of apprehension, distrust, and enmity, now there were healing friendships, light-hearted rivalries, and the beginnings of new relationships entirely.
"And I wish that could have happened without the threat of Cobra Kai hanging over all of you," said Mr. LaRusso, a somber timbre softening his previous tone of pride. "Over the past few weeks, it's really hit me, the pressure we've been putting on you kids. Sensei Lawrence and I have talked it over, and we agree we really owe you an apology. For agreeing to Kreese's game. For not doing more to take care of the problem ourselves. Mr. Miyagi told me karate was meant to defend honor, to defend a life, for it to mean something. And I thought by agreeing to face Kreese at the All-Valley, that was defending something important. But it wasn't our place to put that on you."
He paused and stood there like a statue for a few seconds, a look of immeasurable guilt on his face. And when Miguel stared over beside him at Sensei Lawrence, he saw the same expression of shame in his teacher's features, as well. Miguel suspected his mother really had had a talk with Sensei about the strain he'd been struggling with while training for the Tournament.
"It's too late to take everything back now," intercut Sensei Lawrence, addressing the group. "And I'm not gonna stand here and tell you guys you can't enter the Tournament. I want to see all of you get a chance to get on the mats and kick some ass. But I want you to fight for the right reason. Fight for your own sense of honor. Fight to be your personal best. Don't worry about Cobra Kai. Don't worry about Kreese. In fact, over the next few days, I don't want any of you to worry about anything at all."
Arching an eyebrow, Mr. LaRusso clarified, "What Sensei Lawrence means is, you kids have been working hard enough. You've more than earned a chance to relax. And that's why, on Friday, you're all invited to my house for a pool party."