He didn't know why he retreated to Cobra Kai. It seemed like the only logical place to go. Like a magnet, it had a way of pulling him there whenever he needed somewhere secure to withdraw. It was what drew him there after his fight at the mall, after the school brawl, and it was what lured him there now.
He could hear his phone going off, text after text. No doubt the other guys were letting each other know they were okay, and were wondering what they should do next. Hawk didn't have an answer for them, and it made him want to chuck his cell across the parking lot.
Miguel would've had an answer. Miguel wouldn't be in this situation at all.
No, that's not really true, a little voice in his head reminded him. Miguel never would have picked that fight in the first place.
The lights were on inside the dojo, so bright in the darkness of the strip mall, and like a moth to the flame Hawk stepped towards it and walked inside. The sound of the bells signaled his arrival like an alarm, and Hawk counted to twenty-three before Sensei Kreese came out of his office and stood across from him on the mats.
Hawk tried to meet his gaze, but he couldn't hold it for long. So he stood there dumbly, arms hanging at his sides while his hands curled into fists so tight they threatened to start shaking.
Sensei Kreese didn't even have to ask him what happened. Hawk knew he could sense it. And even if he couldn't, the bruise on his face would give it away. But judging from the way the old man stood there, like an unbreakable tower, the way he crossed his arms over his chest, the way his grizzled face hardened like stone with that knowing glare, he was waiting for him to say it out loud.
So Hawk had no choice but to admit, "I lost."
It didn't seem necessary to go into the specifics, because they didn't matter. Sensei Kreese wouldn't care about the details of the fight, how Miyagi-Do had gotten the upper hand. The outcome was the only thing that mattered. Hawk could justify it in his head however he wanted, but it still wouldn't change the cold, hard fact: he'd lost.
He forced himself to meet Sensei Kreese's glare again, this time with a hopeful glance. He wondered, perhaps, if his Sensei might have some words of encouragement, as he had that night after his loss at the mall. That was why he came here, wasn't it? To hear it. Sensei would correct him, tell him he didn't lose. Even now, Hawk could hear those words in his head: The fight is only over when you say it is.
His mind swarmed with a dozen desperate thoughts that second, scrambling to think of a way to make up for this. Trash Miyagi-Do again. Vandalize LaRusso Auto. Hell, go and wreck Mr. LaRusso's home. Anything to bring Cobra Kai's enemy to its knees. Anything to make them pay, anything to win this war.
The King Cobra slowly closed the gap between them, and with each step Hawk felt less and less confident that would be what his Sensei would suggest. And when Sensei Kreese finally stood in front of him, narrowing his harsh eyes, instead of providing words of support, what he said was, "When you lose, you let all of Cobra Kai down. You let me down."
At those words, Hawk's sense of failure hit him with the double the force, and it punched his gut far worse than any hit the students of Miyagi-Do had delivered. He lowered his eyes, unable to think of anything else to say except, "I'm sorry, Sensei."
He didn't want to admit Sensei Kreese's reaction confused him, even when the furrow of his eyebrows gave it away. Why was this situation that much different than before?
Because things were different. For how many weeks had Sensei Kreese worked with him? How many times had he helped him hone his skills, correct his form, shape him into a better fighter? Worse, all of that confidence, all of that attention, all of those moments Sensei had spent with him in private, giving him extra support. Wasted.
How couldn't Sensei Kreese be disappointed in him?
The low timbre of Sensei Kreese's voice didn't rise the slightest as he continued. "Sensei Lawrence might not have cared if you were a loser, but in my dojo, you're going to learn to win. Even if it's the hard way."
The pit in Hawk's stomach sank even deeper, making him queasy. The petulant kid in him wanted to come up with some defense on his own behalf. He could remind Sensei of his previous victory, how he'd helped rebuild Cobra Kai's reputation from where it had resided at rock bottom. And how it had been because of Sensei Kreese he'd been able to do that.
But shame kept his head lowered, kept his tongue from moving. What did that previous victory mean now? He'd lost. He was a loser. And there were no losers in this dojo.
"Take off your shoes."
Hawk kicked off his sneakers without protest, and then followed Sensei Kreese over the middle of the mats. Muscle memory had him taking formation, standing at attention with his hands behind his back. Hawk still couldn't meet his glare; but he could feel it. And even if he couldn't face his disappointment like a man, he would show his Sensei he could withstand his punishment like one.
Hooking his thumbs through his black belt, Sensei Kreese knitted his thick brows to the bridge of his nose. He simply stood there for a few long, silent minutes, looking at him. Whatever he was thinking, Hawk couldn't venture to guess. But he couldn't stand the quiet. He'd rather have Sensei Kreese yell at him than just stare like that.
So he was almost relieved when the old man spoke and ordered him in a still tone, "Fifty pushups. On your knuckles. Now."
Hawk dropped down and started without hesitating, eager to appease his Sensei and make up for his mistake. He counted them in his head, knowing Sensei Kreese was tallying them too, one right after the other between deep breaths. They were easy enough. He'd done this plenty of times by now.
Once he completed them, he stood back on his feet and looked to his Sensei for his next instruction.
"Fifty jumping-jacks."
Hawk paused only for a second, but then nodded and got started on those. He was beginning to understand now. Well, this was appropriate enough punishment, and certainly wasn't as bad as he'd been secretly dreading. Better this than mat-scrubbing duty or, God forbid, cleaning the toilet.
So he finished his set. By the time he got to fifty, he'd worked up a sweat, which he wiped off his face with the back of his arm before resuming attention like a dutiful soldier.
Sensei Kreese only gave him a couple seconds to catch his breath before next saying, "Fifty burpees."
His student began this combo of pushup and jumping-jack as he was commanded. Hawk knew then this was to be like that day when Sensei Lawrence had the whole dojo doing workouts as punishment for the vandalization of Miyagi-Do. Well, at least this time he wasn't getting his friends penalized. At least he didn't have to feel any guilt on their behalf.
Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty….
Hawk rolled the soreness from his shoulders as he finished. He wished this could've waited until tomorrow, after a night of resting from his fight. But he barely had a moment to wipe more sweat from his eyes before Sensei Kreese repeated, "Fifty jumping-jacks."
"Yes, Sensei." Nodding again, Hawk continued. One, two, three….
Why couldn't he have kept winning, Hawk wondered? Hadn't that taste of victory felt good?
As his heart-rate increased, and his breathing fought to catch up, he could only tear at this brain to figure out why it was that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't come out on top. Was he really just a loser to his core?
Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty….
Sensei Kreese didn't miss a beat with his next order. "Fifty pushups."
Hawk's stomach churned, but he dropped to the floor and did what he was told. Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine….
His arms started shaking at the elbow as he pushed his body up and off the ground over and over, but Hawk ignored that and kept going. He would do this. He was tough enough to see through this punishment, and he was determined to prove that to Sensei Kreese.
"Fifty burpees," commanded the King Cobra as soon as he was done, crossing his arms over his chest again, staring down at him like a drill sergeant might.
Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…
Sweat poured down his face, and Hawk briefly worried his hair might not hold its shape if he continued on like this. But that didn't really matter right then, did it? The only important thing was proving to Sensei Kreese that he could redeem himself. He could go all night if he had to.
He repeated that assertion to himself as he finished the next round of fifty pushups, but his parched throat suggested maybe he was too cocky with that assessment. He was getting thirsty. And his arms were hurting. He struggled to get through the last three, but pushed himself through. Soon enough it would be over.
Sensei Kreese remained as stoic as ever as he said, "Fifty burpees."
Hawk picked himself up to his feet, slower this time as his abdomen clenched again, but he got started. He jumped up before dropping back down to the ground to do the pushup, before leaping back to his feet again to repeat the motion. It was mechanical by this point.
Thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four…
He was getting light-headed. Blood was pounding in his ears, making it harder to keep count. But he tried his hardest to keep concentrating on that. He knew what would happen if he came up short.
He licked the sweat dripping from his upper lip, desperate for some moisture in his dry mouth, but the saltiness of it only made his thirst worse. By the time he reached fifty, he was coughing.
It didn't occur to him he could stop. He could leave. He could walk out, and all of this would end. It never once crossed his mind.
"Fifty burpees again," Sensei Kreese repeated.
Gulping in a few deep breaths, Hawk was about to voice his request for a quick water break. Just for a minute. Just a sip. Then he could keep going, no problem. "But Sensei…."
Sensei Kreese's features tightened, but there was a hard smirk on the corner of his mouth as he said, "Make it sixty."
One, two, three….
Hawk's vision was getting cloudy, and he lost himself in his thoughts as he kept going. How many had he done now? Thirty-two or thirty-three? Why was he seeing white spots?
He blinked his eyes, which were red and stinging from all the sweat that had poured from his brow, to clear them. But he didn't stop, even as his movements slowed with each rep. He even added five extra burpees once he counted to sixty, just to be safe and make up for any he might have missed.
When he stood back on his feet after the last one, he stumbled, almost tripping over his legs as he swayed. The blood rushed to his head too fast. He needed water. But he couldn't simply ask for it. What if Sensei made him do seventy next time?
"Fifty jumping-jacks."
Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty seven….
Hawk stopped only once for a few seconds when his chest erupted with another coughing fit, but he willed his body to push past it before Sensei Kreese could punish him for it. Sensei could see for himself how strong he was, how he kept going. Any of the others in class would have given up by now. They would have crumbled into sniveling heaps, crying for it all to stop.
Thirty-nine, forty, forty-one….
Eli would have said anything to make it stop at that moment. He would have gotten to his knees and begged for mercy. But this was Cobra Kai. This was Sensei Kreese. There was no mercy. Nor should there be, Hawk reminded himself. Mercy was for losers. And he was no loser. Sensei Kreese could see that by now, right? He wasn't a loser.
Sensei Kreese arched an eyebrow when Hawk finished. "Fifty burpees."
Hawk's head was swimming. He didn't comprehend the instructions. How many of these exercises had he done in total? Four hundred? Five hundred? A thousand? Why did he taste acid in the back of his throat? Why were his clothes drenched? Why was the room spinning?
Fifty burpees. Right. Fifty more. "Yes, Sensei," he muttered.
One, two, three….
As soon as he climbed back up after his fourth count, Hawk collapsed back to the floor, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Nausea swept up from his stomach, and he rolled over on his side suddenly as bile spewed out of his mouth with heave after violent heave, all over the mats.
He curled into himself, but the stench of the sickness made him throw up even more. The perspiration covering his body was now chill, making him cold where he'd been burning hot before. He didn't know if the wetness dripping from his eyes was from the sweat or from tears. He hoped, he prayed, it wasn't the latter. Crying would've meant he'd lost again. Anything but that.
His abdomen turned one more time until there was nothing left to give. The only thing that kept him from falling over into the mess he'd made was someone grabbing his shoulders from behind and pulling him up into a sitting position. Then he felt a cup being pressed into his hand and guided to his mouth.
At the first taste of water, Hawk chugged it down greedily and without reserve, desperate for his thirst to be quenched. He drank like he'd gone days without it.
"Not too fast now," he heard Sensei Kreese say from beside him. And it only clicked for Hawk at that moment that it was Sensei who'd helped him up and given him the water. And after about five minutes, he recovered enough of his faculties for it to sink in that he'd succumbed to weakness and failed. Even Stingray had managed to not throw up from an intensive workout. What excuse did he possibly have?
A sharp pain pierced him on the inside at realizing his failure, and it somehow felt even worse than throwing up had. The shame that washed over him was colder than the sweat that covered every inch of his shivering skin. He struggled to keep his hands from shaking, and took another drink from the cup to cover it up. He tried to let the water soothing the acidic burn down in his throat cool his nerves down, too.
Then, he wondered, why had Sensei….
He looked up at the old man just as he grabbed his arm and helped pull him to his feet. Hawk thought he did a good job keeping his knees from buckling out from under him.
"There you go, you're alright," assessed Sensei Kreese with a methodical casualness, hooking his thumbs back through the belt around his waist.
Hawk was so confused. He'd expected a stern reprimand, to be told he was a complete loser in every way, that he couldn't even take his punishment without fucking it up. But he was too utterly exhausted to try and figure out what was wrong with this scenario, why Sensei Kreese didn't look disappointed in him. All he could do was mumble in lingering disorientation, "Sensei?"
"I know you could have kept going," said Sensei Kreese, giving him that hard look of his, the one that saw right through him. Of course he knew that. And he was right. Hawk would have kept going if his body had not betrayed him. "And I know you will never let me down again, will you?"
"No, Sensei," Hawk answered without a second's pause. He would do anything to make sure he didn't have to go through this hell again. Anything.
A grim smile spread over Sensei Kreese's face. "That's good." Raising his eyebrows, his eyes swept over the mess covering the mats, like it was a minor nuisance to him. "Take another few minutes for break, get yourself some more water," he told Hawk. "I'll get you the mop and bucket to clean this up."