CHAPTER 82

6 hours, 20 km traveled each, 15 obstacles completed, and the obstacle race was finally over. It hadn't been without exhaustion, it had been without injury - 5 bee stings, a sprained ankle, heatstroke, cramps and pulled muscles were just some of the aches and pains felt by the Miyagi-Dos by the end - but they were finally done.

The winning team had come as a shock to all of them: Hawk and Bert had taken top honors over any other team. They had won by almost 10 minutes ahead of everyone else, thanks to some ingenious tactics in creating a make-shift wagon to push each other in while the other was resting - that way they didn't have to stop and take long breaks the whole time, and were able to better conserve their energy.

Devon and Tory had come second, two bee stings as souvenirs for their troubles. It hadn't taken long after for Robby and Anthony to come home in third. Sam and Nate had come back a while later in 4th. And shockingly, the favorites to win the whole thing in Miguel and Demetri had come last. Apparently, they had been making excellent time through their obstacles, until all of a sudden Demetri had tripped over a tree branch and twisted an ankle. It hadn't been so bad that they couldn't complete the course as they had pushed themselves hard to do so, but it did mean that they had to take everything at a much slower pace. But all 5 teams had finished, and that's what mattered. In their own way, all the teams had succeeded.

While Johnny and Barnes' training exercises had been painfully dangerous, Daniel and Chozen's were less so but just as tough. Daniel's was mainly a mental exercise rather than a physical one, one that required complete and utter mental balance to succeed in. While Chozen's had been a physically grueling one but not particularly dangerous. All in all, all of the training exercises had been excruciatingly tough, but none of them had been left unattainable.

The camping trip had been a highlight of many of the Miyagi-Dos' Christmas break. Looking back on it, it had truly been a holiday to remember, with everything from Christmas Day celebrations with family and friends, the Boxing Day Fight Night and this camping trip making it thoroughly unforgettable.

Little did the Miyagi-Dos realize that it had also been 2 weeks to remember for Cobra Kai, or at least for their two champions. Sarah and Marcos had taken in every iota of Miyagi-Do they could absorb, learning teachings from Sato that had now been embedded deep into their respective arsenals. They had learned countless Miyagi-Do techniques to use, and how to counter them in case they were used on them, Sato unwisely showing them all of this without knowing exactly who they were.

But it had been more than that. It had been more than simply using an old man for his knowledge in how to beat their enemies. Marcos especially genuinely needed Miyagi-Do's teachings. He could feel every one of them strengthening his mind in a way that he hoped would become strong enough for him to be able to survive the next however long with his father, and maybe even stand up to him. He learned patience, inner peace, mental strength and other vital skills that Cobra Kai glossed over in their need to simply learn hand to hand combat.

As amazing as the two weeks had been, unfortunately they had to come to an end. That evening, Sarah and Marcos were due to fly home from Okinawa back to L.A and bring their trip to an end. After all, the new term of school was starting the next day so they needed to get home before then.

They were forced to say goodbye to Okinawa, Kumiko, Sato and everything else that they had come to love in the past few weeks, and then get on the private jet home again. They were no longer Julio and Rebecca. They were Marcos and Sarah again and honestly, they were going to miss their alter egos a little. Living as this cute, innocent couple rather than their real personalities, it had almost been a way of escaping their real-life troubles and problems. But now that they were heading home, they would no longer have that luxury, and would be forced to return to the drama of the Valley, that fact being on the fore-fronts of both of their minds for different reasons.

When they entered the private jet and took their seats for the painstakingly long journey home, for a while, Marcos couldn't sleep. He lay there, eyes closed, trying to force sleep upon himself but unable to do so. His mind was racing too quickly, past the confines of the plane and all the way back to the Valley, where he knew his father was waiting and with whom he knew he was in for a rough reunion with. The apprehension about this was enough to keep him awake for too long, and it was only when exhaustion overcame his entire body that he was able to drift off to sleep.

But it was a far from restful sleep for Marcos, because as soon as his eyelids closed, he heard a loud BANG. His eyes snapped open and to his shock, he was no longer on the plane. He was back home, in his bedroom, lying on his bed. The bang had come as his bedroom door had swung open, and Marcos groaned at the sudden intrusion, not sure what exactly it was.

"What?!" Marcos grumbled into his pillow, slowly opening his eyes. He rolled onto his back and slowly lifted his head up. When he saw the silhouette in the doorway, his heart stopped. His blood ran cold and he felt any color in his face drain away in an instant. He very nearly threw up as he found himself staring up at none other than his father.

"Hello, son." His father grinned sadistically at him. Marcos' heart pounded like a bass drum. His eyes darted around the room, looking at a way to escape, but that opportunity faded quickly as his father walked into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him and locking it, even breaking the lock to prevent his son's exit.

Marcos stumbled out of his bed, unfortunately being tripped by the bundle of blankets he had wrapped around him, and his father merely laughed heartily as he watched his son desperately struggle to even stand up, let alone face him.

He eventually managed to stand up, and he forced any fear he had deep down inside him as he stared into the cold, unblinking eyes of his father.

"HELP! SOMEONE! HELP!" Marcos yelled, desperately shouting to them, praying they would somehow be nearby and would get help. Or even better, his father would realise and turn on his heel and run. Unfortunately, Marcos wasn't that lucky. His father was not fazed at all, and merely continued to chuckle and give Marcos a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

"No one can hear you." Marcos's father remarked, before turning around and calling out to the empty apartment. "Hey! Anyone! Hey! I'm being attacked by my father! Hey!" When there was no reaction, he turned back to his quaking son and shrugged. "You see? No one can help you."

"Fuck you." Marcos growled angrily, trying to gather any semblance of courage to rise against his father.

Marcos' father giggled and licked his lips at his son's fury, thoroughly enjoying this.

"You ought to be nicer to me. I had planned on just killing you and then leaving, but if you keep disrespecting me like this, I might… I just might lose my temper. And well… you don't want me doing that."

"Yeah? What are you going to do about it?" Marcos snarled, taking a step closer to his father in a challenging gesture. "Not like you can kill me twice." Marcos spat. His father's smile didn't fade at all, eagerly enjoying the mental high-ground he had on his son, and he tutted at him.

"Now, now, son. Don't be like that. I do happen to know that there are other people in this city that you like. That sensei who loves you like a son, loves you the way I never did. You really love him, don't you? And that hot girlfriend of yours… mmmmm, I really wouldn't want something to happen to that pretty face of hers."

Rather than scaring him though, the obvious threats wiped away any iota of fear in Marcos' system, and he stormed closer to his father.

"You listen to me, you piece of shit, and you listen good. You will not lay a finger on either of them or I swear to God…"

"You'll do what? You won't be around to save them." His father reminded him, smirking at him. "Face it. I. Own. You…"

With that, in another show of dominance over his son, His father spat at him. He literally spat, a glob of saliva landing right on the side of Marcos' cheek. He watched carefully to see Marcos' reaction, and when Marcos remained frozen and didn't do anything, his father smiled wider and nodded.

"Yes… that's it. Exactl…"

His father never got to finish the word, as Marcos suddenly lunged at him. However, the teenager never ended up connecting with his target. For when he was mere inches away, all of a sudden, a bat materialized in his father's hands.

Marcos' eyes widened and he tried as hard as he could to stop, but momentum continued to carry him towards his father, right into a vicious swing. The sound of metal connecting with skull filled the air, a sickening CRACK which very nearly caused Marcos to black out right there. But unfortunately the boy didn't have the luxury of dying in a peaceful, immediate way. He was still very much conscious, just too in pain to move, so he was forced to feel the full impact of his father raising the bat again and again and again, letting loose a barrage of vicious blows that spanned every inch of Marcos' body. All the boy could do was curl up into a foetal ball and take the hits, praying that sooner or later the angel of death would release him.

"Come on, Marcos! Not yet! You can't die yet! You don't want me to go after that girlfriend of yours next!" His father yelled, giggling and laughing hysterically at the sight before him. "Come on, Marcos! Get up! Get up! Get up!"

Each time he taunted with those words, he punctuated them with a slamming swing with the metal baseball bat, which caused any possibility of Marcos being physically able to get up to go out the window. Closing his eyes, Marcos knew all he could do was wait for unconsciousness to relieve him.

"GET UP!"

For some reason, this time, the voice sounded a lot more distant. And it didn't sound like his father much either. It almost sounded like…

When Marcos' eyes snapped open again, he found himself once again on the plane. Breathing a massive sigh of relief, he realized that none of this was actually happening. It was just a dream. He was home. He was safe. Marcos' eyes turned to look out the window and he saw light streaming in through the plane window. He could see land in the distance, indicating that they were nearing their destination and close to crossing the Pacific Ocean entirely. That meant it was almost time for him to face the reality of being back in the Valley again.

But right now, Marcos had more pressing issues than what would happen when he got home. For when he turned his head a little, he saw that it was Sarah in the airplane seat beside him, her eyes a mixture of concern and rage. One thing was for sure: a confrontation was coming…