𝟬𝟬𝟰, larusso sisters are fighting

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⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

The crowd's cheers roared through the arena, a deafening wave of noise that seemed to close in on Sasha LaRusso from all sides. The massive Sekai Taikai competition floor stretched out beneath her feet, bright lights glaring down, making her squint slightly as she adjusted her grip on her bo staff. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might break through her chest.

Across from her, Tory Nichols stood calm and poised, her Cobra Kai gi sharp and pristine, the snake emblem embroidered on her back like a taunt. Tory's bo staff spun effortlessly in her hands, the polished wood reflecting the lights as she smirked, eyes locked on Sasha with the kind of razor-sharp confidence Sasha wished she could match.

Focus. Stay grounded. You've trained for this.

The referee raised his hand. "Fighters, bow."

Sasha forced herself to take a breath, bowing stiffly with her eyes never leaving Tory. Her hands felt clammy, the staff heavier than it had during training. She was aware of every sound-the shuffling feet in the stands, the creak of the mat beneath her sneakers, her dad's steady voice calling out support from the sidelines. But it was drowned out by the buzzing in her head.

The ref's hand dropped.

"Begin!"

Tory exploded forward, aggressive from the start, her staff a blur as she swung it in a powerful horizontal arc. Sasha barely deflected it, the impact jolting up her arms. She stumbled back a step, gritting her teeth.

Tory didn't let up.

A second strike-faster-came from above. Sasha raised her bo staff just in time, blocking, but the force drove her back again. Her footing was off. She wasn't centered. The pressure was relentless, and Tory knew it.

Sasha attempted a counter, swinging for Tory's midsection, but her angle was too wide. Tory easily spun her body to the side, dodging, and punished the mistake with a sharp jab to Sasha's ribs that made her wince.

"C'mon, Sasha!" Daniel's voice cut through the noise, but it felt miles away.

Get it together. Get it together.

She adjusted her stance, planting her feet more firmly, and tried a spinning strike aimed at Tory's shoulder. But Tory anticipated it. She ducked low, sweeping her staff in a clean, controlled arc aimed at Sasha's legs.

Sasha jumped back, just barely avoiding it-too slow. The edge of Tory's staff clipped her ankle. Sasha hit the mat hard, the breath knocked from her lungs as she fell with a painful thud.

The crowd's collective gasp felt like a punch to the gut.

"Sasha, up! Reset!" Daniel's voice echoed, more urgent now.

Sasha scrambled back to her feet, face burning with embarrassment. Her grip tightened on her staff, hands shaking slightly. Tory's smirk only deepened, her bo staff spinning fluidly in her hands.

"Come on, LaRusso," Tory taunted. "That all you got?"

Sasha felt the sting of those words like a slap. She let out a shaky breath and forced herself forward again. She could feel the eyes on her-her dad, her sister, the entire Miyagi-Do team. She couldn't lose like this.

She lunged, trying to push back harder. Her staff cut through the air in a wide arc, aiming for Tory's ribs, but it was too obvious. Too slow.

Tory sidestepped easily.

In one swift motion, she twisted her bo staff under Sasha's, leveraging it upward with brutal precision. The impact wrenched Sasha's staff clean from her hands, sending it clattering loudly to the mat.

Silence.

The referee's whistle echoed through the arena.

Match over.

Tory lowered her staff, tossing a cold, unimpressed look over her shoulder before turning away, not even bothering to say anything as she returned to the Cobra Kai side of the mat.

The crowd erupted in cheers-though it was mostly for Cobra Kai. Sasha could feel the heat rise to her cheeks as she bent to pick up her fallen weapon. Her hands felt numb as she gripped the bo staff and stood there, heart hammering against her ribs.

She barely registered her dad approaching. Daniel rested a supportive hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, it's okay-"

"Sasha!"

Sam's voice cut through the noise, sharp and filled with anger. Sasha flinched, turning to see her older sister storming across the mat. Her arms were crossed tightly, her face flushed with a mixture of frustration and disappointment.

"What the hell was that?" Sam demanded, stopping just short of Sasha with narrowed eyes.

Sasha blinked, still catching her breath. "What do you mean? I-I tried-"

"Tried? That didn't look like trying, Sasha! You barely lasted two minutes out there!" Sam's voice was rising, eyes flashing. "You left your guard completely open. That spin move? What were you even thinking? You know better than that!"

"I was doing my best!" Sasha shot back, voice trembling. "It's not like I wanted to lose!"

"You weren't prepared." Sam snapped. "You had weeks of training for this, Sasha! You didn't fight like a LaRusso out there! You let her walk all over you!"

Sasha's hands trembled around her bo staff. The sting of her sister's words was cutting deeper than the loss itself. "I know I messed up, okay?"

Daniel stepped forward, raising a hand gently between them. "Sam, that's enough."

But Sam wasn't backing down. Her voice softened slightly but still held that sharp edge. "This isn't just about you, Sasha. It's about the dojo. About Miyagi-Do. We're representing something bigger here, and you can't just-"

Sasha's face twisted with hurt. "I get it, Sam. I'm not you! I'm not the perfect karate prodigy who wins every match! I didn't want to lose-I just-" Her voice broke slightly, and she swallowed hard.

Sam blinked, the tension faltering just for a moment.

Sasha shook her head, voice quieter now. "I'm not you. And maybe I never will be."

There was a beat of silence, the sting of those words hanging heavy in the air.

Daniel's gaze shifted between both of his daughters, his expression filled with concern. He finally spoke, calm but firm.

"You both fought hard to get here. But this-this isn't how we support each other."

Sam exhaled, pressing her lips together tightly before nodding stiffly. Without another word, she turned and walked away, shoulders tense as she rejoined the Miyagi-Do side.

Sasha stood frozen for a moment, the ache in her chest lingering long after the match had ended. She didn't just lose the fight. She felt like she'd let everyone down.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

The hotel lobby pulsed with a low, uneasy energy, the kind that lingered after a day of hard losses and grueling matches. It was quieter than usual, the celebratory chatter and bursts of laughter that often accompanied tournaments replaced by hushed conversations and the occasional sound of shuffling feet. The air felt thick, weighed down by the tension of competitors regrouping, nursing bruises, and reflecting on near-defeats.

The marble floor beneath Sasha LaRusso's sneakers felt unforgivingly cold, the faint sound of water bottles clicking shut and damp towels dropping into gym bags filling the void left by spoken words. Her body ached, muscles sore from the morning's matches, but the pain in her chest was far heavier. Disappointment clung to her skin just as stubbornly as the sweat-dampened strands of hair plastered to her forehead.

She stood with her arms locked tightly across her chest, gripping her elbows so hard her nails pressed into her skin. Her knuckles were pale. She hadn't changed out of her Miyagi-Do gi yet, the fabric crumpled and still marked with faint scuff stains from the mats. Sasha's eyes drifted over her teammates, each of them caught in their own storm of exhaustion and frustration.

Even Demetri, normally the first to crack a joke, sat slouched on one of the lobby couches, his arms limp over his knees and his lips pressed into a tight, straight line. No sarcastic quips. No awkward attempts to lighten the mood. Just silence.

But it wasn't just the silence pressing on Sasha. It was the glare burning into her from across the room.

Sam.

Her older sister sat stiffly near the lobby's corner, arms folded, face twisted into something between a scowl and a grimace as she stared Sasha down. Ever since their argument after her match, Sam had barely spoken a word to her. And she hadn't apologized. Not for the harsh words. Not for the public humiliation.

The knot in Sasha's chest tightened. She felt exposed under her sister's gaze, raw and vulnerable in a way she wasn't used to.

Suddenly, the sharp clap of hands echoed through the room, cutting through the uneasy quiet.

"Everyone, listen up!"

Daniel LaRusso's voice rang with calm authority, drawing every eye toward him as he stood at the center of the group. His presence felt grounding, the kind of steady leadership that usually brought comfort-except today, it only reminded Sasha how badly she'd let him down too.

She straightened instinctively, shoulders squaring as she pushed back the emotional weight pressing on her.

Daniel's gaze swept over the group, lingering on each face as he spoke, his tone measured and controlled. "This morning was tough. I won't sugarcoat it-some of those matches were brutal. But it's not over yet. We've got two more events today before eliminations begin. This is your chance to reset, refocus, and leave everything you've got on the mat."

Sasha's jaw clenched, her pulse hammering harder. Refocus? That sounded so easy when you hadn't just been dismantled in front of an entire international crowd. She could still feel the impact of her bo staff slipping from her hands, the sting of Tory's smug grin as she walked away victorious.

From the corner, Demetri's hand lifted weakly, his voice cracking through the tense air.

"Wait, hold on-so, you're saying... this wasn't the elimination round? Because I'm pretty sure my body thinks it's been eliminated. Or at least permanently damaged."

A ripple of tension eased from the group, a few forced smiles surfacing-but the atmosphere was still too heavy for laughter to take hold.

Daniel allowed himself a small, tight-lipped smile before shaking his head. "No, Demetri. This morning was a qualifying round. The real eliminations begin after the next two events." His voice softened, but his expression remained serious. "I know you're all tired. I know today hasn't gone the way we hoped. But remember-you're not just representing this dojo. You're representing Miyagi-Do's values. Everything you've trained for. You've earned the right to be here."

Sasha felt those words, but they didn't sink in the way they were supposed to.

Her gaze flicked sideways to where Sam sat, and their eyes met for a split second. There was no encouragement there. Just that same hard, unrelenting look that made Sasha feel about two inches tall.

The silence thickened-until a gruff, unmistakable voice cut in.

"Yeah, yeah, you're the best around, yadda yadda," Johnny Lawrence muttered, stepping forward with his arms crossed over his chest. His voice, rough and impatient, shattered the motivational mood Daniel had been working to build. "Look, I get the whole zen speech, but if you want to win, you gotta stop looking like you're waiting for someone to hand it to you. Get aggressive. Act like you deserve it."

Miguel, standing just behind Johnny, exchanged a glance with Sasha, both of their expressions mirroring the same unimpressed skepticism.

Daniel shot Johnny a glare, exhaling through his nose. "Johnny, we talked about this. They don't need more pressure-they need to trust themselves. They're ready. Pushing harder when you're already at your limit won't help."

Sasha felt Miguel's hand brush her shoulder gently. His fingers traced small, grounding circles along her back, and for a moment, she closed her eyes, leaning into the quiet comfort it offered. The tension in her chest eased, if only slightly.

But that small moment of relief was broken by the persistent heat of Sam's stare, burning into her again. Sasha blinked, her stomach twisting uncomfortably.

Was Sam glaring at her because of Miguel?

Sure, Miguel and Sam were dating, but this? This wasn't what Sam thought it was. Miguel was just being a friend-he knew how hard the loss had hit Sasha. Why did Sam have to make everything feel so much worse?

"Clear your minds," Daniel was saying, his voice firm but calm again. "You've all trained for this. Remember what you're capable of. Remember who you are."

As the group began to break apart, their spirits only mildly lifted, Sasha let out a shaky breath.

She turned, her eyes lingering on Sam for a heartbeat longer.

No words. No apology.

Just silence.

And the tension still lingered, heavy as ever.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

As the elevator doors whispered shut with a soft, final thud, the quiet felt heavier than the stale air pressing around them. Devon slumped back against the cool, brushed metal wall, the chill seeping through the thin fabric of her hoodie like a reminder of her failure. Her shoulders sagged, weighted down not just by exhaustion but the crushing disappointment still gnawing at her chest. The adrenaline that had burned through her veins during the matches was long gone, leaving behind a hollow ache that made her limbs feel heavier than they should.

She shoved her hands deep into her hoodie's front pocket, fingers curling into tense fists as she glared down at the scuffed floor. The dull, fluorescent lights overhead painted harsh, pale reflections on the elevator's smooth surface-too bright, too unforgiving. A perfect spotlight for her self-loathing.

"Well," Devon muttered bitterly, her voice breaking the silence but barely above a whisper, "that was a disaster." The words hung there, thick with self-recrimination. She tilted her head back, thudding it gently against the wall, eyes squinting at the ceiling like it might offer some kind of cosmic wisdom. It didn't. "I mean, seriously, what the hell was that? I couldn't land a single clean kick. And then-" Her throat tightened as the memory surged. She swallowed hard, the flash of humiliation vivid in her mind. "And then I wiped out. Like, faceplant levels of embarrassing. Right in front of everyone."

She clenched her jaw, her face flushing despite the cold press of the elevator wall. The scene replayed again, in slow motion-the stumble, the awkward flail, the loud, unforgiving smack of her back hitting the mat. A mistake she couldn't stop looping.

Sam stood rigid in the corner, arms crossed so tightly they seemed to press into her ribs, her knuckles stark against her skin. She hadn't said a word since they stepped in. Her gaze was locked somewhere far off, not meeting either of their eyes, but the tension radiating from her was impossible to miss.

When she finally spoke, her voice was tight, controlled, but void of its usual fire. "We all did terribly," she muttered, the words tasting bitter even as they left her lips. Her eyes flicked toward Sasha, who had been leaning against the railing with a practiced kind of ease, though her arms were folded too-guarded, defensive. Sasha met her gaze with a raised brow, unimpressed.

Sasha snorted softly, not quite rolling her eyes but close enough. "Sure. Except I didn't wipe out. So, you know, there's that."

Devon winced, glancing toward her in mild disbelief. "Okay, yeah, but I did wipe out. On my ass. In front of-literally everyone. It was bad." Her voice broke slightly on the last word, the sting of humiliation cutting deeper than she wanted to admit.

She shook her head, dropping her gaze back to the floor. "I don't even know what happened. My brain just... shut off. Like, the second I stepped on the mat, everything we've been working on just vanished. It's like I forgot how to fight." Her hands flexed inside her pockets. "I'm such a joke."

Sasha's eyes softened, the sharpness in her expression dimming just slightly. "You're not a joke," she said quietly, the words steady but lacking their usual edge. "Look, we all had a rough day out there. It's not just you. Everyone's been... off." She gestured vaguely toward the ceiling, as if the tension from the entire tournament hung above them like a storm cloud. "The whole team's been struggling, Devon. It's not all on you."

Sam, however, wasn't in a forgiving mood. Her jaw tightened as she snapped, "Maybe it would help if our senseis actually got on the same page for once." Her voice was sharp, cutting through the thick air like a blade. "Johnny and my dad are so busy arguing over whose way is better, they're losing focus. We're losing focus. How are we supposed to win when they can't even agree on what we're supposed to do?"

Sasha's eyes narrowed. "Oh, come on, Sam. Seriously? This again?"

Sam blinked, clearly taken aback by the challenge. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sasha uncrossed her arms, pushing off the railing, her body language shifting from defensive to combative. "You always do this-act like it's all my dad's fault. But newsflash? Johnny's actually pushing us. He's making us better. Maybe if your dad wasn't so busy trying to keep things 'perfect,' we wouldn't be holding back so much out there."

Sam's face flushed, her posture stiffening. "My dad is trying to teach us, Sasha. You know-actual technique? Control? Not just-whatever Johnny calls that reckless garbage."

Sasha's voice dropped lower, the tension coiling tighter between them. "Reckless? Or real? Because last I checked, control didn't stop anyone from getting knocked on their ass today."

Devon shrank back against the wall, eyes darting between the two sisters, wishing she could melt into the elevator panel. This was not a fight she wanted to be caught in the middle of.

Sam's lips parted, ready with a retort, but the elevator chimed softly, the mechanical whir of the doors sliding open breaking the heated tension like a needle popping a balloon.

And then Zara Malik stepped in.

The shift in energy was instant. Zara, as poised and camera-ready as ever, held her phone high in one manicured hand, recording something on a livestream with a smug, self-satisfied smile plastered across her face. Her high ponytail swished as she spoke, oblivious to the tension crackling in the cramped space.

"Live from the undefeated champions' floor," she announced, voice dripping with artificial cheer. "Back to back wins, baby. You know we stay on top." Her gaze flitted over the trio, the smirk widening just slightly as she clocked their expressions-exhausted, defeated, tense.

Sasha's eyes narrowed, and without a word, she stepped out of the elevator, her shoulder brushing past Zara as she moved. She didn't need to stay and risk saying something she'd regret-or worse, get roped into yet another pointless rivalry. Not when she was already close to losing her grip.

Better to walk away before her sister pushed her even further.

As Sasha stepped off the elevator, the heavy doors slid shut behind her with a low hum, sealing in the lingering tension with Sam. The air felt cooler out here, less stifling but still charged. Her fists remained tight at her sides as she crossed the lobby, jaw clenched as she pressed the button for the next elevator. The silver button glowed softly beneath her fingertip.

She exhaled sharply, tilting her head back and closing her eyes for a beat. Sam always had to be so stubborn. Always siding with their dad like he could do no wrong while acting like Johnny was reckless just because his methods weren't picture-perfect. But Sasha knew better. His training was real. He wasn't scared to push them, to remind them they were in a fight-not a choreographed routine.

The elevator still hadn't arrived.

Sasha sighed, arms folding tightly across her chest as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She was about to hit the button again, just for the satisfaction of pressing something, when a voice-smooth, smug, and all too familiar-drifted from just behind her.

"Wow, Miyagi-Do's so desperate, they're falling apart in the elevators now?"

Sasha stiffened, biting the inside of her cheek as she turned her head to find Kwon leaning casually against the wall a few feet away, arms crossed and looking entirely too pleased with himself. His black Cobra Kai hoodie was unzipped, the logo practically glowing under the lobby lights. The usual cocky smirk was plastered across his face, his dark hair slightly damp from what she assumed was a post-training shower.

Sasha rolled her eyes, face heating as much from irritation as... other things she refused to name. "Do you have a reason for being here, or did you just come to hear yourself talk?"

Kwon shrugged, pushing off the wall to step closer. "I live here, genius. Not my fault if you're out here brooding like you're in a bad music video." He tilted his head, his smirk widening. "Let me guess. Big sis fight? Or was that just a full-team meltdown? Because from where I'm standing, your whole dojo's circling the drain."

Sasha clenched her jaw, her hands curling into fists. She knew he was baiting her. He always was. But damn, he was good at it.

"And yet," she shot back, forcing herself to keep her voice steady, "I'm still better than you."

Kwon let out a low chuckle, like her words didn't even faze him. "Sure you are. You were so impressive out there today-oh wait. Didn't you choke in your second match? Real elite stuff, Sasha."

Her face burned hotter, and she took a step closer, ignoring the way his stupid, smug grin made her heart race in a way that had nothing to do with anger. "At least I don't need a whole dojo of bullies backing me up to win a fight."

Kwon's grin twitched, but instead of firing back with another jab, his expression shifted-just slightly. That teasing edge softened, his gaze lingering on her a moment too long. "You know... You're not bad, though. For Miyagi-Do."

Sasha blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Kwon shrugged, the smirk back but lazier now, like he was enjoying how thrown she looked. "I'm just saying. You've got skills. More than the rest of your... 'peace and love' squad. Maybe if you were training with us instead of babysitting Larusso's ego, you'd actually win more." His voice dipped lower, more serious, but the challenge in his eyes stayed. "Ever think about it? What you could be if you weren't... holding back?"

For a second-a stupid, fleeting second-Sasha's stomach flipped, because damn it, he was cute when he said stuff like that. But the moment shattered just as fast, her pulse spiking with fresh irritation.

"Excuse me? Holding back?" Her voice sharpened, echoing slightly in the empty lobby. "You think I need Cobra Kai to be better? Newsflash, Kwon-I don't need cheap shots and dirty tricks to win. And I definitely don't need you."

Kwon's face shifted, the playful edge evaporating. His smirk curled tighter, sharper, but his voice stayed quiet-controlled. "Right. Keep telling yourself that, Sasha. But deep down? You know you're better than them. You're better than all of it. And that's what pisses you off, isn't it? Knowing you're stuck playing their game when you could be-"

The elevator chimed softly.

Sasha didn't let him finish. She stepped inside without another word, facing forward as the doors began to slide shut between them. But just before they closed completely, Kwon's voice drifted in, softer this time.

"You're holding back. You know I'm right."

The doors sealed. Sasha clenched her jaw so hard it ached, pressing her palms against the cold metal panel as the elevator carried her upward.

Her reflection stared back at her in the polished surface, cheeks flushed, heart racing, and the worst part?

She hated how much he did get under her skin.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

The crowd's cheers echoed through the arena, a deafening roar that pulsed in Sasha's ears as she locked eyes with her opponent-a fierce girl from Dublin Thunder, taller, leaner, and radiating raw aggression. Sweat clung to Sasha's brow, her chest heaving as she shifted her stance, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet.

The match had been brutal. Her opponent had fought dirty, using sharp, aggressive strikes meant to overwhelm, but Sasha had stayed calm-until now. Her pulse pounded in her ears, a steady drumbeat beneath the announcer's voice calling out, "Final point. Fighters, ready!"

The girl lunged first, a sharp, calculated kick aimed for Sasha's ribs. Sasha twisted just in time, her muscles straining with the effort as she pivoted, sweeping her arm up in a perfect block that sent the blow skimming harmlessly past her side. But her opponent didn't stop. She followed up fast, a flurry of punches-too fast to think, just react.

Sasha ducked, her breath ragged but controlled as she slipped the first punch, the second just grazing her shoulder. Focus. Breathe.

The world blurred around her. It was just her and the girl now.

With a sharp exhale, Sasha shifted her weight and surged forward, catching her opponent off guard. She drove a hard palm strike to the chest, forcing the girl back a step-but not enough. The Dublin fighter growled, her face twisting with frustration as she reset her stance.

Sasha's eyes narrowed, heart racing, adrenaline a wildfire under her skin. No holding back. Not now.

The girl feinted left, but Sasha saw through it, saw the subtle twist of her hips before the real strike-a spinning kick aimed high. Sasha ducked low, then exploded upward with a counter of her own, her leg slicing through the air in a flawless roundhouse. The impact connected solidly with her opponent's side.

A sharp thwack! echoed through the arena.

The Dublin fighter stumbled. Her guard dropped for just a fraction of a second-but that was all Sasha needed.

With a fierce yell, she followed through, a lightning-fast front kick slamming into the girl's chest, driving her back hard enough that she lost her footing and hit the mat with a thud. The referee's whistle cut through the noise.

"Point! Match over! Winner: Sasha LaRusso!"

For a heartbeat, Sasha just stood there, blinking as the reality sank in. Then her lips curled into a victorious grin, her chest rising and falling in triumph as the crowd erupted around her.

Her gaze shot toward the edge of the mat where Miguel was waiting, his wide brown eyes practically glowing with pride. He threw his hands up in celebration, flashing her the biggest thumbs-up she'd ever seen.

Sasha couldn't help it-she laughed, breathless, lightheaded with relief and the rush of adrenaline. She'd done it. Against one of the toughest teams. She'd won.

But almost as if on autopilot, her feet moved before she could fully soak in the victory. Her eyes searched the sidelines, zeroing in on Johnny, who stood near the leaderboard, arms crossed over his chest.

"Sensei!" she called, still grinning as she jogged toward him. "Sensei, did you see that? Did you see what I did to that girl?"

She practically beamed as she stopped in front of him, the excitement bubbling over as she replayed the fight in her head-the perfect block, the counter, the way her kick had landed.

But Johnny didn't move.

His eyes stayed fixed on the leaderboard. His face was stony, unreadable.

Sasha's smile faltered.

"Sensei?" Her voice wavered slightly, the elation from her win beginning to slip. She took a small step closer, searching his face for any sign of approval. Say something.

The silence dragged.

Finally, Johnny exhaled sharply through his nose, his gaze still unmoving. When he spoke, his voice was clipped, cold. "It's too little, too late, Little LaRusso. We're near the bottom of the standings. There's nothing to celebrate here."

The words hit like a physical blow.

Sasha blinked, the heat rising to her cheeks for a very different reason now. She stared at Johnny, waiting-hoping-for him to take it back, to say something else.

But he didn't.

The smile she'd worked so hard for, the pride swelling in her chest, it all evaporated. Her stomach twisted, a sharp ache settling deep in her ribs.

"What?" she whispered, voice barely audible. Her fists clenched at her sides. She'd won. She had given everything out there-what more did he want?

Miguel stepped forward from the sidelines, his smile fading into a concerned frown. His gaze flicked between Sasha and Johnny, lips parting like he wanted to say something-but no words came.

The leaderboard loomed above them, bright and unforgiving. Sasha risked a glance. Their team was still near the bottom. Her victory had barely shifted the rankings.

But it mattered. Didn't it?

The anger built slowly, bubbling beneath the confusion.

"That's not fair," she muttered, but it felt hollow, the words sticking to her throat. Her pulse pounded louder in her ears, drowning out the lingering crowd noise.

Johnny's gaze remained locked on the board, as if she wasn't even standing there.

The tension snapped like a rubber band when Demetri and Eli started for the exit, their faces grim with defeat.

"Hey!" Johnny's voice cracked like a whip. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Demetri paused, exhaling sharply before turning back, his eyes narrowing. "Uh, back to the hotel to wash off this disgrace," he shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Johnny's face didn't even twitch. "Locker room. Now."

The finality in his tone made the whole team freeze.

Sasha felt like she was being pulled underwater, the pressure pressing on her chest as she followed the others toward the locker room. Her steps were heavy, the sound of her heartbeat louder than Miguel's whispered, "It's okay, Sasha. He didn't mean it like that."

But it didn't feel okay.

As she passed the leaderboard one last time, she looked again-searching for her name.

It was there. Right alongside her win.

But somehow, it felt smaller. Less important. Like it didn't matter anymore.

And that hurt more than any fight ever could.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

The locker room felt like a pressure cooker about to burst. The air was dense, heavy with the kind of tension that made breathing feel difficult, as if the walls themselves were pressing inward. The sharp scent of sweat clung to the space, mingling with the distant echo of cheers and muffled voices from the arena outside, yet none of that noise could pierce the oppressive silence inside the room. It was like the eye of a storm-still, but thrumming with the promise of chaos.

Johnny Lawrence stalked back and forth across the floor, the soles of his worn sneakers scuffing against the tile with each deliberate step. His hands were clenched into tight fists, veins standing out along his forearms, while his broad shoulders rose and fell with every deep, measured breath. His face was a mask of barely-contained fury, his eyes narrowed, almost predatory, as he scanned the team in front of him. His pacing was restless, like a caged animal, the raw energy in his movements making everyone feel trapped.

The silence shattered as his voice cracked through the room, sharp and unforgiving.

"What I saw out there? That wasn't karate." His voice was raw, scraping like gravel against stone, filled with a dangerous edge. "That was weakness. You fought like little lambs being led to the slaughter."

Sasha felt the words like a slap. They hit hard, stinging as they sank under her skin. Her body tensed on instinct, her arms crossed so tightly over her chest that her nails dug into her forearms. She leaned against the cool metal of the lockers, trying to shield herself from the storm brewing in her sensei's voice. The adrenaline from her match still lingered in her veins, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, but it was no longer empowering. Now it felt hollow-replaced by a crushing weight pressing down on her ribs.

Johnny didn't pause. His voice only grew louder, sharper, like a blade cutting through the fog in the room.

"If you keep fighting like this, we're done. Finished. Eliminated. And what then?" His gaze swept over the group, eyes hard and unyielding. "You'll walk out of here with your heads down, go back to your boring little lives, and you'll remember this. Every time you think about what you could've been-what you could've done-you'll know you crumbled when it mattered most."

The words cut deep. Sasha felt her chest tighten, her pulse hammering as she clenched her jaw to keep from speaking. He was being too harsh-too cruel-but the worst part was, some part of her believed he was right.

She chanced a glance at Miguel. His face was drawn, lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at the ground. His fists were balled at his sides, his knuckles pale, but he said nothing.

"And then what?!" Johnny snapped, his voice rising to a near-shout. "You'll end up in some shitty dead-end job, living a life you hate, all because you couldn't get your act together when it counted. Is that what you want?"

Silence followed. A suffocating, unbearable silence.

Sasha's heart pounded against her ribs, a burning heat rising in her throat. She had won her match. She had done everything right. And still, Johnny's words made it feel like nothing. Like her victory wasn't enough.

Her teeth clenched. She wanted to speak-to demand why her effort didn't matter-but before she could, Sam's voice broke through the quiet.

"You keep blaming us," Sam snapped, her voice low but steady, sharp enough to draw all eyes toward her. Her arms were folded, her expression tight with anger as she met Johnny's gaze without flinching. "Like this is all our fault. Like you haven't made mistakes too."

The air felt even heavier, pressing down like a physical force.

Johnny's head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing as he stepped toward her, his voice dangerously calm. "What did you just say?"

Sam didn't back down. Her glare was icy. "You heard me. You want to act like we're the problem? Fine. But if my dad was here-" Her voice caught, but she powered through, her next words slicing through the tension. "-we wouldn't be losing like this."

Johnny's entire body went rigid, his jaw tightening as a flash of something dark passed over his face. Anger. Guilt. Both.

"Well, he's not here, is he?" Johnny shot back, voice hard as steel. His tone dripped with resentment, with something bitter and unresolved.

Sam's face twisted with fury. "Maybe that's because of you."

The words were a lit match to gasoline.

Before Sasha could even process what was happening, Devon shot to her feet, her face flushed with anger as she pointed a trembling finger at Sam.

"Don't talk to him like that!" Devon's voice rang out, sharp and furious. "You think you're the only one who's struggling? At least Johnny cares enough to push us-"

Sam sneered, cutting her off. "Push you? He got you knocked out in ten seconds. Maybe if you spent less time worshiping him and more time training, you wouldn't have embarrassed yourself."

Devon's face went pale, the color draining as her fists clenched at her sides.

Sasha's frustration finally boiled over. She stepped between them, hands raised as her voice cut through the escalating chaos.

"Enough! Both of you." Her voice trembled slightly, but she held firm, her gaze flicking between Sam and Devon. "This-this fighting? It's not helping. We're supposed to be a team, remember? Same side?"

Sam's eyes narrowed as she glared at Sasha now, her voice sharp. "Yeah? And whose side are you even on, Sasha? Because it sure doesn't feel like you're on ours lately."

The accusation hit like a punch to the gut. Sasha blinked, momentarily speechless.

"I am on your side-"

"Really?" Sam interrupted, voice bitter. "Because the way you're defending them, it feels like you're trying to impress Johnny more than you care about this team."

Sasha's face burned, hurt flashing behind her eyes.

"That's not fair."

"Yeah?" Sam shot back. "Then prove it."

The room felt like it might shatter. The tension was unbearable, but before anyone could speak, Demetri's voice broke the silence, awkward but tinged with sarcasm.

"Well, I, for one, plan to forget all about this nightmare when I'm at MIT-"

"Shut the hell up about MIT!" Eli exploded, face flushing with rage as he turned on his best friend. "Some of us actually care about winning here, Demetri! Maybe if you did too, we wouldn't be losing."

Robby, quiet until now, finally stepped forward, voice low and measured. "Guys, this-this isn't helping. Can we just-"

Miguel cut him off, his voice cold and clipped. "Maybe you should listen to your own advice."

Robby's head snapped toward him, his entire body tensing.

"You got something to say, Diaz?"

Miguel stood, eyes narrowed as he met Robby's glare head-on. "Yeah. I already did."

The room was silent. Suffocating. On the edge of collapse.

Without another word, Miguel turned sharply, footsteps echoing as he stormed out.

Sasha felt her pulse thrumming painfully, her chest tight as the door slammed behind him. The weight of everything-the anger, the disappointment, the fractures splintering their team-pressed down harder than ever.

And it wasn't going away.

ASH SPEAKS!!!

the larusso sisters are fightingggg

i finished jealousy jealousy for now until part 3... i miss arizona.

PLEASE DONT BE A GHOST READER!!!
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im so sorry for all the notifications but please stop being a ghost reader!!!! us writers work hard on these chapters. i know i ask this a lot, but i really don't like ghost readers because i work super hard on these chapters so when i see views going up bt votes not its hard for my motivation!