quiet until you showed up, and now it's just noisy with you and your friend."

Zeke chuckled. "Alright, we're heading upstairs."

As Zeke and Moon started up the stairs, Sofia called after them. "Oh yeah, Gramps wanted to see you later."

Zeke stopped and turned back with a sigh. "Can you tell him I'm busy?"

Sofia's expression hardened. "What am I, your fucking messenger? Tell him yourself."

Zeke gave her a pointed look but didn't argue. "Fine, I'll call him later."

He led Moon upstairs, their footsteps echoing softly in the quiet house. Despite the night's events, Zeke felt a sense of relief at being home.

🐍

Zeke walked through the bustling halls of West Valley High, his gaze lingering on Moon, who blushed and smiled back. He returned the gesture before heading towards the library, where he hoped to catch up with Miguel.

Inside the library, Zeke spotted Miguel sitting alone at a table, a bandage wrapped around his forehead. Miguel looked up, his eyes reflecting both weariness and frustration.

Zeke approached and greeted him, trying to ease into the conversation.

"Hey, haven't heard from you much lately. What's going on?"

Miguel let out a heavy sigh, clearly struggling with the situation.

"My mom had me quit karate. I can't do it anymore," Miguel admitted, his voice tinged with disappointment.

Zeke nodded sympathetically. "That sucks, man. I'm really sorry about what Kyler did to you."

Miguel shook his head slowly. "If only I had a little more training—"

Zeke cut him off gently. "She's your mom, man. If you can't convince her, then I don't know what to tell you."

Miguel looked down, feeling the weight of the situation. "Thanks for beating those guys up for me. I wish I could have helped."

Zeke leaned in slightly, his tone a mix of empathy and resolve. "Listen, I get it. My history with football is similar—I got kicked off for starting fights. My family's got a history of violence and aggression. I couldn't let guys like Kyler just push people around. You're gonna be fine. You just need a little extra training, and I'll help you out."

Miguel nodded, appreciating the support. Zeke then headed to his locker to grab his books, preparing for a geometry exam.

As Zeke left the library, the atmosphere changed. Kyler and Brucks entered, their presence immediately imposing. They approached Miguel with malicious intent.

"Hey, look who's here," Kyler taunted, his nickname for Miguel slipping out with a sneer. "Rhea's still alive?"

Brucks chuckled, adding to the torment. "Yeah, how's that headache treating you? Lucky we didn't mess you up worse."

Miguel's attempt to stand up for himself was shaky. "Leave me alone, Kyler."

Kyler and Brucks persisted, their taunts growing more intense. The situation escalated until Zeke reappeared, his gaze hardening as he took in the scene.

"Done with this bullying act yet, Kyler? Or do you need a reminder of what happens when you push too far?" Zeke's voice was cold and commanding.

Kyler's smirk vanished, replaced by a menacing expression. He stepped closer to Zeke, his voice dropping to a threatening tone. "You think you're tough? You're gonna pay for what you did to Rory."

Zeke's lips curled into a confident smile. "You don't want to do that, man."

"Why not?" Kyler challenged.

"Because if you do, and if you decide to pick on anyone else, you'll be in worse shape than what I did to your friend. And there's nothing you're going to do about it. Now, fuck off."

Kyler's face turned pale, his bravado slipping away. With a final, angry glare, he and Brucks retreated, leaving the library quickly. The tension in the room eased as Zeke turned back to Miguel.

"Let's get back to work. They're not worth your time," Zeke said, trying to bring a sense of normalcy back to their study session.

Miguel nodded as they went back to their studies.

🐍

Michael sat in his home office, the evening quiet around him except for the soft rustling of papers. His work as a lawyer was demanding, but tonight he was focused on organizing a stack of documents. As he sorted through the files, his eyes drifted to an old karate trophy displayed on a shelf. The trophy was tarnished with age but still held a significant place in his memories.

Diana's voice floated in from the bedroom, reminding him that it was getting late. "Michael, are you going to be up all night?" she called out with a hint of amusement.

"In a bit, querida," Michael replied, his eyes drifting to the shelf where an old karate trophy stood. The golden figure frozen in a mid-kick pose caught his attention. He reached out, picking up the trophy, and felt the weight of memories flood his mind.

His mind flashed back to the 1983 All Valley Tournament. The memories were vivid: the bright lights, the cheers of the crowd, and the feel of the mat beneath his feet. Michael was fifteen then, and the quarterfinals had been a fierce battle. He recalled the moment vividly—he had faced Tommy, a friend who had become a rival in the ring.

The arena had been buzzing, and Michael could see Kreese in the corner, his face a mask of intensity. The match had been close, but Michael had been edged out. The defeat was crushing, especially with his father's anger waiting for him backstage.

In the locker room, Kreese's voice cut through the tension. "You let me down, Michael! What the hell was that? You should have destroyed him!" Kreese's rage was palpable, and Michael could see the disappointment in his eyes.

Michael had tried to reason with him, but Kreese was relentless. "Tommy's my friend," Michael had argued. "I couldn't go all out on him."

James Lafferty as young Michael Kreese

"Friend? In the ring, there are no friends. Only opponents. You showed weakness, and you lost. No mercy means no mercy, even for your friends. Remember that," Kreese growled, his eyes boring into Michael's soul.

The conversation had left Michael frustrated and conflicted, torn between his loyalty to his friend and his desire to meet Kreese's expectations. That night, he couldn't shake the feeling of having failed, both himself and his father.

The memory shifted, a year later, and Michael saw himself, Johnny, Tommy, Jimmy, and Bobby cruising down the California roads on their dirt bikes. They wore their red Cobra Kai jackets, the emblem symbolizing their bond and their defiance. The sun set behind them, casting long shadows on the road, and the laughter and camaraderie were infectious. Those days had felt endless, filled with the reckless freedom of youth.

"Let's hit the beach!" Johnny shouted over the roar of the engines.

Michael grinned, feeling the exhilaration of the moment. "Race you there!" he called back, twisting the throttle and surging ahead.

The scene changed again. Michael was back in the All Valley Tournament, but this time it was the semifinals. Kreese's voice echoed in his mind, a harsh command that had become a mantra: "Sweep the leg. Do whatever it takes to win."

Michael had executed the move with precision, sweeping his opponent's leg out from under him. The crowd's roar had filled the arena as he won the match. The victory had felt hollow, the thrill of success tainted by the ruthlessness it had required. He had advanced to the next round, only to face Johnny.

The final match had been a grueling battle. Michael had given it his all, but Johnny was a formidable opponent. The fight had ended with Michael's loss, a crushing blow that left him battered and defeated. The sight of Kreese embracing Johnny like a son had made him feel worse, like he couldn't do anything to impress his Dad.

Michael's focus returned to his office. The thought of returning to karate now seemed absurd. He had long moved on, his life had changed dramatically, he had a family now, a good career, and yet his son's budding interest in martial arts brought back memories he couldn't ignore.

Diana's voice broke through his reverie. She appeared at the doorway, her presence grounding him. "Michael, are you coming to bed soon?" she asked, her tone gentle and warm.

Michael looked up, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "Yeah, just a minute," he replied. He placed the trophy back on the shelf and shut off the desk lamp, closing the files with a sigh.

Diana was already in bed, her dark hair spread out on the pillow. She looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "What were you thinking about?"

Michael climbed into bed beside her, pulling her close. "Just some old memories. The past has a way of sneaking up on you, doesn't it?"

Diana snuggled against him, her warmth comforting. "You don't talk about those days much. Were they really that important to you?"

Michael nodded, his thoughts drifting back to Cobra Kai. "They were. Those were some of the best times of my life. But they're in the past now. What matters is right here, right now."

Diana smiled, kissing his cheek. "Well, I'm glad you're here with me."

As they lay there, Michael's thoughts drifted to the days of Cobra Kai, the exhilaration, the brotherhood, and the struggles. He realized that while those memories were a part of him, they didn't define him. The present was where he needed to be, focused on his family and their future.

Diana soon fell asleep, her breathing even and soft. Michael lay awake for a while, his mind still lingering on the memories of his youth. Eventually, he closed his eyes, letting the warmth of Diana beside him pull him into a peaceful sleep.

But as he drifted off, he couldn't shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, there was a part of him that still longed for the thrill of the dojo. The idea of coming back to karate, of training with his son, wasn't entirely unappealing. In fact, it was starting to interest him more than he wanted to admit.