CHAPTER 3

"Mom! Dad! Anyone home?!"

Marcos Oliveira walked into his family's house and called out in Portuguese, waiting to hear a response from either parent but unsurprisingly, not getting one. It was 4 pm so they were both still at work, and probably would be for the remainder of the afternoon and evening. That didn't dampen his spirits at all though. At this moment, absolutely nothing could. It was a Friday afternoon and not only that, but school had just ended for the Christmas Holidays so the break had officially begun! 3 whole weeks of a blissful, relaxing vacation, to do nothing but hang out with his friends, sleep and chill out.

The life Marcos and his family lived was a modest one. They lived in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil - Marcos being born and raised there, and his mom and dad spending their entire lives there too. And anyone who had lived in Rio de Janeiro, and most of Brazil in general, knew that the city was split into three main factions:

One faction was the uber-wealthy: a very exclusive group containing the doctors, lawyers, athletes, artists, all of whom living in the gorgeous places that you would typically see upon searching for pictures of Brazil. The second faction was the middle class: these people, all college educated and working decently paying jobs, lived in a different part of the city in reasonably large houses and lived relatively luxurious lives. Last, and probably least, the third faction, the largest faction of them all and the one that Marcos lived in: the lower class. Nicknamed "The Forgotten", these were the people who barely made enough money for food, if they even had jobs, and were forced to live on the outskirts of the city in extremely crowded slums, or favelas as they were called.

There was a long, elaborate history of favelas, Marcos had learned in school. Formed by impoverished former slaves in the 19th century, these communities were not at all run by the government. In fact, the government often chose to neglect the fact that they even existed, sometimes not even providing them with water, electricity and other vital resources. The lack of governmental authority within the favelas had caused power to transfer to individuals within the community, under whom the communities had continued to grow larger and larger, to the point where there were now nearly 25% of Brazilians across the country living in these types of communities, Marcos being one of them.

It was easy to get a bad image of favelas based on what you see written about them online, Marcos had always thought. Sure the house they lived in was barely large enough to fit the 3 of them, but at the same time, it could've been a lot worse. His mother and father both worked long hours as a teacher and construction worker respectively, so they never had a lack of food and water, and they even had some luxuries like a TV. Also, while many people choose to write about the crime rate in the favelas (the communities' lack of policing allowing the perfect location for criminal activity such as shootings, drugs and more), what they don't tell you is how unique and incredible the vast majority of the people are. Given the struggles everyone in the community went through, they were all pretty tight-knit. Marcos knew his neighbors well… in fact some of them were even his best friends. The people, the culture, the music and so much more were things that made living in the poorest parts of the country not only bearable, but thoroughly enjoyable for the 13 year old.

As Marcos walked into the house, he threw his backpack on the ground and collapsed on the sofa, pulling out his phone and grinning immediately. The phone - his father's old Blackberry - had been a gift from his parents for his 13th birthday, and he absolutely adored it. Almost immediately, he heard a loud DING as a notification popped up on his screen.

New notification from… Roberto Dos Santos

Marcos smiled. Not even an hour since they had left school and he was already getting a message from his best friend and fellow neighbor in his community…

Bro come to my house! We made a ring in the garden from tape so we can have our own fight night!

Finishing reading the message, Marcos sighed in satisfaction and bliss. It truly was the holidays. His whole life, Marcos had been an avid fanatic of Mixed Martial Arts. In Brazil, especially in the community Marcos was living in, the options of sports to both watch and play were very limited: soccer, volleyball and martial arts. He had never been very good at the first two, compared to the others in his neighborhood at least, but the third one he had taken to like a duck to water. Marcos' father was a skilled Martial Artist, adept in Capoeira, BJJ and MMA, and he passed on everything he knew to his son. There were various other Martial Artists in his community, and Marcos spent every spare moment with them, soaking all of their knowledge in. His love for the sport went further than just basic admiration. He was obsessed, to the point where if anyone in the neighborhood had managed to put on the UFC on their TV, they knew to let Marcos know immediately, as he would be there in the flash. It was Marcos' dream to one day fight in the UFC and become a champion, a dream that would surely be unlikely given his circumstances, but he refused to let go of.

Marcos quickly shot off a response to his friend and ran to his bedroom to change. However, just as he was halfway up the stairs, he heard it…

It was loud. It was unmistakable.

BANG!

Marcos jolted awake with a start, and his eyes snapped open. His head whipped around for a few moments as he tried to remember where he was. It took him a few moments, but he remembered that he was on an aeroplane, flying from Brazil to his new home: sunny Los Angeles of all places. He let out a loud sigh and groan, putting his head in his hands and leaning back into the uncomfortable aeroplane seat. Nearly 5 years had passed since that traumatic day, and not once had he fallen asleep without the horrors seeping into his mind. He wasn't an 8th grader anymore. And as of right now, he wasn't living in Rio either. But every time he closed his eyes, he transformed back into that terrified kid, hearing the gunshot for the very first time.

17 years old and turning 18 in a few months, Marcos was a traditionally attractive looking boy. Or at least he was deep down. His mop of dark hair was extremely messy and disheveled. His piercing hazel eyes were filled with a combination of exhaustion and pain. His chiseled, muscular physique was hidden by the oversized, ratty hoodie he had on.

"You okay?"

Marcos glanced sideways and looked at his father, who was sitting in the seat beside him and staring at him, clearly having seen his son's struggles. He knew exactly what his son had been dreaming about, for it was the exact same event that had been plaguing his own nightmares every night for the past few years.

"Yeah, fine." Marcos murmured in reply.

"Good. Now wake yourself up. We're landing soon." His father grunted gruffly. Marcos nodded at his father, but didn't say a word. In fact, he remained completely silent for the next little while as they landed at their new home for the first time. They had flown into Los Angeles, and his father's new job would have them living in an area called "The Valley."

Marcos always figured that he'd be living in Rio forever. That he'd grow up and work as a plumber or a job like that, living in the same house even after his parents died. And for a long time, it definitely seemed that way. Even after the tragic event had occurred, Marcos had his father had continued to live in that exact same house, in the exact same room where it had happened. It was only very recently that Marcos' dad had been gifted with an absolute miracle: a job opportunity working in a construction project in Los Angeles. It was a way out of the extreme poverty for them, potentially forever, and so him and his father had invested every cent they had saved into making this move to Los Angeles, and they could only hope for the best. Anything less than that, and they'd be deported right back to the slums in Brazil, this time bankrupt with 0 chance of escaping…

BANG!

Marcos' phone immediately slipped from his grasp, and his blood ran cold. He knew exactly what that was. He could've recognised it from a mile away. And for a moment, he was rendered immobile in fear. His brain screamed DANGER but his body refused to cooperate. It was almost like he had been frozen in a block of ice, desperately trying to escape it but somehow unable. It took him nearly an entire minute for his body to catch up to his mind, and he finally managed to sprint to his parents' room, terrified about what horrors inevitably awaited him there.

"Mom?! Dad?!" Marcos' heart pounded as he called out for his parents again, praying that he would get a response, any kind of sign that whoever the gunshot had been fired at was okay. Marcos had absolutely no idea what he was running into. For all he knew, this was some kind of robbery and he was only jeopardizing his own life by running in. But Marcos didn't care. He hurled himself towards the room like a whirlwind, and he flew over to his parents' room. As he reached the door, he paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. Was he really prepared to see whatever sight awaited him inside? The answer to that was unequivocally no, but that didn't stop Marcos' trembling hands from slowly turning the doorknob and entering the room.

As he entered his parents' familiar bedroom, for a moment, things were eerily silent. All of the birds outside had abruptly stopped singing at the sound of the gunshot. The room seemed to be completely empty, with no intruders that Marcos could see. But as Marcos edged his way across the room, around the single bed that his parents shared and over to the right hand side, the side his mother had slept on since the day she had married his dad, that's when he finally saw it. There she was. Lying motionless on the ground, her eyes staring upwards in a glassy eyed stare, a pool of blood slowly forming beneath her unconscious body.

Tears almost instantly filled Marcos' eyes as he looked down at his mother and whispered.

"Mom…"

After that moment, Marcos had little recollection of what had happened next. He remembered screaming. He remembered sobbing. He remembered not making it to the bathroom before the vomit crept up his throat. He remembered calling emergency and then calling his dad, begging him to come home immediately. But the moment he remembered most, the moment that would be branded into his mind for the rest of his life, was when he slowly picked up the note resting beside his mother's head and read the final words his mother would ever say to him. Not a note, but merely just 4 words: "I am so sorry."

The next couple of weeks, Marcos went into complete survival mode. He went through the typical stages of grief. The first was pain and shock - for the first few days, he couldn't accept what had happened. He had refused to believe that his mother was dead. This had to be just a bad nightmare, something he would wake up from at any moment. Any moment now, his mother would be shaking him awake, telling him that he needed to wake up as he was late for school. But no. He eventually came to realise that this wasn't a nightmare. This was so much worse. It was reality.

After around a week from his mother's death, Marcos' shock wore off and instead was replaced by anger. An inferno of rage coursed through his veins, burning his body from the inside out, unrelenting and excruciatingly painful. His mother had quit on him. Quit on his father. Quit on their family. She hadn't given a reason. And the only goodbye she had given, the only words he had left to remember her by: I am so sorry. He HATED her for what she had done, so much that he was unable to even see a picture of her, hear her name, without feeling fury bubble up inside him, threatening to erupt like a volcano.

That led him into his third stage of grief: depression. Eventually, as his anger slowly started to wear off, it was replaced by an aching dull so powerful that it felt like every step he took he was being doused in frigid, icy water. It was unrelenting, unforgiving. Every morning, Marcos would wake up, he would lie in bed. He would see the sun's rays shine through the blinds. He would hear birds cheerfully tweeting and chirping outside his window. And for a moment, everything would be fine. But then he would remember, and it was like a crushing weight would slam down on his chest and clamp around his heart. He was never going to see his mother again for as long as he lived. She wouldn't be there for his graduation. For his wedding. For the day his first child was born. She was gone and she wasn't coming back, and that fact was a thousand times more painful to process than any hit he had ever taken in nearly a decade of Martial Arts, any injury he had ever suffered his entire life.

But the hardest part of all of this came around a month after his mother's death. Up until this point, he had trapped himself in a bubble, isolating himself from the rest of society. However, around a month later, he came to the dreaded realisation that despite his mother's suicide shaking his entire life, tearing his entire life to shreds, everything carried on as normal. His father returned to work. He was expected to return to school after the winter break like nothing had happened. He was supposed to sleep in the room that was less than a few meters away from the spot where his mother had taken her own life. Expected to pretend like all of this never happened and get on with his life again.

The summer holiday that June felt like it would never end. He didn't feel like he was even living at times. He felt like a ghost, held captive on this earth while wanting nothing more than to leave it once and for all. Then September came around and high school began. The years that he had been so excited about, dragged on at an excruciatingly slow speed. Freshman year. Sophomore year. Junior year. Who even cared anymore? Days rolled into one, he felt like he was in some kind of never-ending hell loop, so Marcos was almost happy to hear about his father's job relocation. He was hoping that he'd be able to get a fresh start for his senior year, in a town far, far away from the city and house that had become his prison.

Emerging from the plane shortly after, Marcos remained silent as he and his father picked up their bags from baggage claim and got into a taxi to take them to the Valley, where they would be living for the next year. As Marcos sat back in the vehicle's seat and stared listlessly out of the window, he felt the now familiar ball of steel wrap around his heart and slowly constrict him like a boa. His eyes staring out of the window, despite the unyielding pain he was feeling, he couldn't help but be in awe of his surroundings. Rio de Janeiro had been like Paradise on Earth at some times, but it had been nothing like this. The sheer number of people, the loud buzz of activity that seemed to be radiating throughout the city… it was unique. And exactly what Marcos wanted: maybe the fact that this place was so different would give him the impetus he desperately needed to finally break free of the emotional shackles that he had placed around himself after his mom's death. Maybe he'd be able to smile again. Be able to laugh again. Be able to love again. Because for the past 4 years, Marcos couldn't bring himself to do any of that. He was nothing more than a statue in a human body. But now… now he was away from his old friends that since his mother's death, only looked at him through goggles of pity and sympathy. Now he was away from the house where it had happened. This would be a completely fresh start, and it would be up to only him whether he made the most of it…

A/N

So when planning this story, I had an early decision to make. For those who don't know, one of the things I loved most about early seasons Cobra Kai is that both sides, Cobra Kai and Miyagi-Do, had compelling characters leading their respective dojos. We saw this in Seasons 1 and 2, and we also saw it in Season 4. However, in Seasons 3 and 5, it became a lot more black and white about who the protagonists and antagonists are, which I personally wasn't a fan of.

So anyways, I had a decision to make with the Cobra Kai dojo for this story. It became blatantly obvious for me when watching Season 5 that Cobra Kai would be competing against Miyagi-Do in some capacity at the Taikai, and given that this is a drama show, it's going to be a close fight and not a massive blow-out win for Miyagi-Do. Kind of hard to write though when all of the good fighters are on one side! In terms of adding a new leader to Cobra Kai, I had three options:

1- Continue to do what the show was doing in Season 5, and use Kenny as Cobra Kai's champion. About that, I've seen countless people complaining about how the show buffed Kenny so much in Season 5 to make him able to compete with the main teens at the expense of Hawk, and I'm inclined to agree with them. While I really like Kenny as a character, I don't think he should already be able to compete with the main teenagers in the Taikai. He will be a large part of this story, but won't be Cobra Kai's new leader for this chapter of the saga

2- Kyler. Not much to say here. The dude's a worse fighter than Kenny! And with all of the plot armor against him due to him bullying half the Valley, what hope does he have of ever winning a fight, let alone a tournament?!

3- Create and develop an OC, who is going to eventually become Cobra Kai's main fighter. This is the option I chose. Bringing in him and maybe MAXIMUM 1 other OC would, in my opinion, create more even and suspenseful circumstances in not just the tournament, but any of the fight scenes of this story. It wouldn't be much of a fight scene if in every one, Cobra Kai gets slapped around without even putting up so much as a challenge.

Because this character "Marcos" is going to be a main character, he will receive a fair bit of development and time, especially towards the beginning-middle of the story, as you guys get to know him as a character. This isn't just some random NPC that Miyagi-Do is competing against. But at the same time, I recognize that there are other pre-existing main characters, all of whom will have their own respective storyline as well. I have not forgotten about them. I will try my best to balance these 1 or 2 maximum OC characters with the rest of the show's characters, and am thoroughly excited to do so.

That's all from me. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. More soon!