𝟬𝟬𝟭, the best of the best

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Sasha LaRusso stood in the heart of Miyagi-Do's courtyard, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the carefully raked gravel and lush greenery that surrounded the space. Beams of golden light filtered through the branches of the bonsai trees, dappling the ground with shifting patterns. The dojo itself stood silent and serene, its wide-open doors revealing polished wood floors that gleamed as if freshly waxed. The faint scent of pine from the mats lingered in the air, blending with the earthy aroma of dew still clinging to the grass.

Sam, Miguel, Hawk, and Demetri were scattered across the courtyard, their movements fluid and deliberate as they stretched in preparation for the day's training. Sasha, seated cross-legged on a mat, folded her body forward with practiced ease, her fingertips effortlessly grazing her toes. Despite her body's familiarity with the motions, her mind was far from calm.

She could feel the weight of the upcoming Sekai Taikai qualifiers pressing heavily on her shoulders. It wasn't just about the competition itself—it was about who she had to face. Tory Nichols, the girl who had been her older sister Sam's fiercest rival for years, was a challenge Sasha couldn't ignore. But more daunting still was the idea of facing Sam herself. The prospect of going head-to-head with her sister in a high-stakes fight was enough to make Sasha's stomach churn.

To her left, Sam perched delicately on the grass, her long hair catching the sunlight as she moved through a stretch. Ever the conversationalist during training, she broke the silence with a cheerful, almost casual tone. "I heard Aisha got into UC Santa Cruz," she said, her voice carrying easily across the courtyard.

Sasha's head lifted at the mention of their old friend. A smile immediately lit up her face, pushing aside her worries for a brief moment. "That's awesome!" she exclaimed, her voice brimming with genuine excitement. "She's gonna love it there. That school's, like, right on the beach."

Sam nodded enthusiastically, her smile wide, but the conversation didn't gain much traction with the others. Miguel, sitting nearby with his legs stretched out in front of him, seemed unusually quiet. His hands gripped his ankles as he leaned forward, but his posture was stiff, his eyes fixed on the grass in front of him.

Sasha tilted her head, concern flickering in her hazel eyes. She adjusted her position, sliding closer to him. "Hey, Miguel," she said softly, her voice laced with curiosity and care. "You heard anything from Stanford yet?"

Miguel let out a long sigh, shaking his head without looking up. "No," he muttered, his voice heavy with frustration. "I've been checking my email every day, but... nothing. Not even a rejection. Just radio silence."

Sasha's heart ached for him. She knew how much this meant to Miguel—not just as a dream, but as a validation of everything he'd worked so hard for. She reached out, her hand resting gently on his arm in a gesture of comfort.

"I'm sorry, Mig," she said sincerely, her tone soft but firm. "I know how much this means to you. Hopefully, you'll hear something soon. They'd be insane not to take you."

Miguel glanced at her, his lips twitching into a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Sash," he murmured, though the worry in his dark brown eyes was still evident.

Across the courtyard, Hawk lay sprawled on his back, his arms stretched out lazily behind his head. His voice cut through the quiet as he chimed in, "Don't stress, man. It'll come. I mean, Demetri hasn't heard from MIT yet, so you're not alone."

Demetri, mid-stretch, suddenly sat up, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Actually," he said, his tone light but unmistakably smug, "I have."

The atmosphere shifted instantly.

Sam froze mid-stretch, her eyes wide with shock. Sasha straightened up fully, her jaw dropping as she turned to look at Demetri. "Wait, what?"

Miguel's head snapped up, his brows furrowing in surprise. Hawk's arms dropped to his sides as he bolted upright. "What?" they both exclaimed in unison, their voices filled with disbelief.

Sam, already beaming, clapped her hands together. "He got in," she announced proudly, her voice bursting with excitement for her friend.

Sasha's grin stretched ear to ear as she clasped her hands in front of her chest. "Oh my God, Demetri! That's amazing!" she exclaimed, practically bouncing with excitement. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

Demetri shrugged, feigning modesty as he leaned back with an exaggerated air of nonchalance. "What can I say?" he said, inspecting his nails with mock seriousness. "I'm brilliant."

Sam laughed, nudging him playfully. "You worked hard. You totally deserve this."

Demetri straightened, his smirk turning into a genuine grin. "It's like LeBron James trying out for the Lakers. Unthinkable that they'd say no." He mimed a basketball shot, complete with a dramatic "swish" sound effect.

Hawk rolled his eyes, leaning back on his hands. "Okay, we get it, genius," he muttered, though his tone was more teasing than irritated.

Demetri leaned toward him, his expression one of mock innocence. "Especially hard to get into when you don't apply," he quipped, his words landing with pinpoint accuracy.

Hawk's face darkened, his eyes narrowing into a glare. "Real subtle," he shot back, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Raising his hands in mock surrender, Demetri's smirk only grew wider. "Hey, just saying. You miss 100% of the shots you don't take."

Sasha sighed softly, sensing the tension brewing. "Guys," she interjected gently but firmly, her eyes darting between the two. "Let's not start this now."

Miguel, clearly tired of the back-and-forth, chimed in with a weary tone. "Demetri, stop rubbing it in. Hawk, let it go."

The tension in the courtyard eased as Hawk muttered something unintelligible under his breath and reclined back onto the grass. Demetri, still wearing a triumphant grin, leaned back into his stretch without another word.

Sasha let out a quiet breath, grateful for the moment of peace. Yet, as the group settled back into their routine, her own thoughts returned to the challenges ahead. The pressure of the Sekai Taikai qualifiers loomed large, but in this moment, surrounded by her friends and their familiar banter, she felt just a little more grounded.

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The cafeteria hummed with its usual midday chaos—students chatting loudly, the clatter of trays echoing off the walls, and the occasional burst of laughter ringing out from nearby tables. Sasha sat across from Miguel at their usual spot by the windows, where sunlight streamed through, casting soft, golden rays across the table. Despite the lively atmosphere, Miguel's mood was anything but bright. He sat hunched over his tray, his fork absently poking at a pile of lukewarm spaghetti. His frustration radiated off him like heat from a flame.

"I've been checking Stanford's website nonstop," Miguel said, finally breaking the heavy silence. His voice was taut, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his anxiety. "They only accept 15% of the people they defer. Fifteen, Sasha!" He dragged a hand through his dark curls, the motion restless and agitated.

Sasha placed her water bottle down and leaned forward, her arms resting on the table as she studied him with a concerned gaze. She could feel the depth of his disappointment, and it tugged at her heart to see him like this. "Fifteen percent isn't zero, Miguel," she said gently, though there was a firm edge to her tone. "Anything you can do between now and April is only going to help your chances." She paused, her brown eyes locking with his. "Extracurriculars are huge. Maybe even the Sekai Taikai."

Miguel sighed, his frustration bubbling closer to the surface. "They didn't even care about the All Valley," he muttered, bitterness creeping into his voice. "Why would they care about the Sekai Taikai?"

"Because it's international," Sasha countered quickly, sitting up straighter as she made her point. Her tone was calm but confident, her words deliberate. "The All Valley is a big deal, sure, but it's still local. The Sekai Taikai is global. It's one thing to be the best in town, Miguel, but being one of the best in the world? That stands out. That looks good on a college application."

Miguel shrugged, his movements slow and dejected, the doubt weighing him down. "Yeah," he murmured, barely audible.

Sasha frowned, her chest tightening as she watched him retreat into his thoughts. She hesitated for a moment, carefully choosing her words. "Miguel," she began softly, leaning forward, "you can't carry the weight of rejection before it even happens. It's like stepping into a fight convinced you're going to lose before the bell even rings. Focus on what you can control, and let the rest fall into place."

For a brief moment, Miguel looked at her, the tension in his face softening. There was a flicker of gratitude in his eyes, though it was quickly overshadowed by the lingering sting of uncertainty. "Easier said than done," he mumbled, his fork still idly poking at his tray.

Before Sasha could respond, Miguel's attention shifted. His gaze locked onto the cafeteria doors, and Sasha followed his line of sight. Robby Keene had just walked in, his confident stride and laid-back demeanor drawing subtle glances from nearby tables. He moved with an air of ease that seemed to contrast sharply with Miguel's current state.

Miguel's jaw tightened as he watched Robby weave through the crowd. "It just means I'm gonna have to beat Robby again," Miguel said, his voice sharpening, frustration hardening into resolve.

Sasha raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking between Miguel and Robby. She wasn't sure how this rivalry would play out, but she knew better than to stoke the flames.

Before she could respond, Robby approached their table, his casual stride slowing as he stopped near them. "Hey," Robby greeted, his tone relaxed but carrying a hint of curiosity as his eyes darted between Sasha and Miguel.

"Hey, Robby!" Sasha replied warmly, her voice light in an attempt to keep the mood from souring.

Robby nodded at her before turning to Miguel. "Have you guys seen Tory? We were supposed to train at the park later."

Miguel leaned back slightly, his tone neutral but edged with tension. "No, but I thought you were coming to the dojo to train with us."

Robby shrugged, leaning casually on the edge of the table. "Tory and I figured since we're fighting each other, it'd be smarter not to show each other our moves. You know, keep it a surprise."

Sasha nodded thoughtfully, tilting her head. "Makes sense."

Miguel gave a curt shrug. "Yeah, I guess."

A playful smirk tugged at Robby's lips as he straightened. "You better watch out, though. You're going down this time, El Serpiente," he teased, his tone carrying both humor and a competitive edge.

Miguel's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing as Robby walked away. Sasha immediately noticed the change in his demeanor and turned back to him, her expression firm.

"Don't," she said sharply, cutting through his brewing frustration with a single word. "He's right. If they're training together, then so are we."

Miguel's gaze flicked back to her, his jaw relaxing slightly as her words sank in. After a moment, he nodded, determination replacing the irritation in his eyes. "Fine," he said simply. "Let's make sure we're ready."

Sasha nodded, matching his resolve. The Sekai Taikai wasn't just a tournament—it was a proving ground for more than just their skills. It was a chance to define themselves, not only to the world but to each other. And neither of them was going to back down.

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The dojo radiated a quiet intensity in the early morning light, the polished wooden floors gleaming as sunbeams poured through the expansive windows. The space was both serene and charged, the kind of place where focus and effort mingled to create an almost tangible energy. The faint scent of pine cleaner and sweat lingered in the air—a testament to countless hours of training and discipline.

At the head of the room stood Johnny Lawrence, his posture unyielding and deliberate, arms crossed as if daring anyone to break the concentration in the room. His sharp blue eyes scanned the lineup of students before him with the precision of a hawk. The mix of pride and an almost rebellious swagger in his demeanor was uniquely his own. He was in his element, commanding the room like it was the only thing that mattered.

Sasha stood at the front, her stance straight, shoulders back, radiating a quiet determination. Beside her, Miguel mirrored her posture, his face calm but focused, his sharp eyes fixed on Johnny. Behind them stood Tory, Sam, and Robby, each a stark contrast to the other. Tory's intensity practically radiated off her in waves, her jaw tight, eyes sharp. Sam's determination was quieter, her movements measured and precise, always careful not to overstep. Robby, ever calm but fiercely competitive, balanced the group with his quiet confidence.

The dojo was silent save for the soft rustling of gis as the students shifted their stances. The room pulsed with an almost meditative stillness.

Johnny took a deliberate step forward, his sneakers squeaking softly against the floor. He raised his arms in a wide arc, his movements slow and controlled. His voice, low and commanding, broke the stillness. "Big circle. Breathe in. Breathe out. Feel the motion."

The students obeyed, their arms slicing through the air in unison. The sound of their synchronized breathing filled the dojo, deep and deliberate. The rhythm of it created a grounding effect, each breath pulling them deeper into the present moment.

Sasha closed her eyes, letting the motion flow through her. She focused on her breathing, the movements becoming fluid, natural. Her muscles relaxed, tension melting away. Next to her, Miguel followed suit, his shoulders loosening as he fell into the rhythm. The stillness of the moment brought an unexpected calm to the dojo, one that felt almost Miyagi-Do in its essence.

And then, without warning, Johnny's voice erupted like a thunderclap.

"ELBOW TO THE FACE!" he barked, the sudden sharpness cutting through the calm like a knife.

Sasha's eyes snapped open, startled. Johnny had dropped into a fighting stance, his arm cocked and poised to deliver a sharp elbow strike. The abrupt shift in energy was jarring, but it wasn't out of character. Not for Johnny.

"PUNCH IN THE THROAT!" he roared, his movements swift and explosive. He punched the air with force, demonstrating the move as though he were facing a real opponent. "LIFT HIM UP AND SLAM HIS ASS INTO THE GROUND!"

Sasha quickly reset her stance, her lips twitching as she tried to stifle a grin. She threw an exaggerated elbow, followed by a sharp jab, and ended with a mock lifting motion, her body language a little too dramatic. Beside her, Miguel caught her side glance and smirked, but his focus remained sharp as he executed the sequence with precision.

Behind them, Tory launched into the moves with fiery determination, her strikes sharp and aggressive. Robby matched her energy, his movements controlled but no less powerful. Sam, ever meticulous, followed along with her usual focus, each motion deliberate and precise, though she couldn't hide the flicker of amusement in her eyes.

Johnny wasn't finished.

"KICK TO THE GUT!" he shouted, demonstrating the move with a powerful front kick. "BLOCK HIS STRIKE! GRAB HIS NUTS—TWIST, TWIST, TWIST!"

Sasha froze mid-motion, her jaw dropping. A shocked laugh bubbled up in her throat, and she quickly clapped a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with barely contained amusement. Miguel turned his head, biting his lip in an effort to keep from laughing, though his eyes sparkled with mischief.

Before anyone could recover, the dojo door creaked open, and Daniel LaRusso stepped in. He stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing as he took in the scene. The teens froze, mid-motion, miming Johnny's enthusiastic nut-twisting instructions.

"Uh...what the hell is going on here?" Daniel asked, his voice filled with a mix of disbelief and concern.

Johnny, grinning like he'd just nailed the perfect move, turned to face him. "Teaching them how to win, LaRusso!" he declared proudly. Then, clapping his hands together, he addressed the group. "Alright, everyone, take a seat!"

The students dropped to the mats, exchanging knowing glances. Sasha caught Miguel's eye and raised an eyebrow, her expression saying, Only Johnny.

Johnny disappeared into a storage closet, reemerging moments later dragging a battered coffee table with a bulky old TV balanced precariously on top.

"Alright, listen up," Johnny announced, his tone dramatic as he plugged in the ancient equipment. "Close your eyes. Clear your minds."

The students obeyed, though Sasha couldn't help but peek as Johnny slapped the side of the TV. It let out a static-filled whine, and Johnny muttered a string of colorful curses under his breath.

"Come on, you piece of crap..."

Miguel coughed to cover a laugh, while Tory rolled her eyes, muttering, "Typical Johnny."

Finally, the TV flickered to life, the grainy image of a martial arts movie filling the screen.

"Got it!" Johnny declared triumphantly. "Open your eyes!"

Sasha opened hers and immediately recognized the movie. Best of the Best. She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing as Johnny gestured toward the screen with unrestrained excitement.

"Here comes the good part," Johnny said, practically vibrating with enthusiasm.

The group watched as the movie unfolded, the dramatic fight sequences playing out with over-the-top flair. When the protagonist delivered a particularly intense strike, Johnny pumped his fist in the air. "Hell yeah!" he shouted.

Turning back to the group, Johnny's expression became deadly serious. "That's Alex Grady. Shoulder busted in the first movie. Second movie? Miraculously healed." He jabbed a finger at his chest. "That's the power of belief. You believe in yourselves, you can do anything. Even be like Eric Roberts."

Sasha exchanged a glance with Miguel, who looked like he was about to lose it. The rest of the group nodded solemnly, their faces blank with forced seriousness.

Johnny clapped his hands, breaking the moment. "Enough inspiration! Outside, let's go!"

The group filed out into the backyard, the crisp morning air hitting their faces. Sasha couldn't help but grin as she stepped onto the grass. Only Johnny Lawrence could turn a breathing exercise into a nut-twisting defense class, follow it with a cheesy martial arts movie, and somehow make it all work.

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The backyard buzzed with an undercurrent of excitement as Johnny Lawrence marched toward the far corner of the yard, flanked by Sasha, Sam, Robby, Tory, and Miguel. A well-worn training dummy stood in the distance, its scuffed exterior a testament to years of abuse and battles. The late afternoon sun bathed the scene in a warm, golden glow, casting long shadows that stretched across the lawn. But the setting wasn't tranquil. It couldn't be, not with Johnny's unmistakable, chaotic energy infecting the atmosphere like an electric current.

Inside the dojo, Daniel LaRusso leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His sharp eyes followed Johnny's every move with a mixture of wariness and resignation. He had tried to stay inside, supervising the other students practicing kata, but the moment he saw Johnny wheeling in a suspiciously overstuffed duffle bag, he knew something was up. Against his better judgment, Daniel had ventured closer, peering outside like a general inspecting a battlefield, dreading whatever madness was about to unfold.

"Alright, listen up!" Johnny's voice boomed, slicing through the quiet hum of the yard. He dropped the duffle bag with a loud thud and crouched over it, digging through its contents like a treasure hunter on the brink of a major find. "Today, we're taking Miyagi-Do to the next level. And by next level, I mean the world stage."

The teens exchanged confused glances. Sasha, standing near the back, folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. Miguel leaned slightly toward her, his lips twitching as he fought back a grin. Tory smirked knowingly, while Robby and Sam exchanged skeptical looks.

With a triumphant shout, Johnny yanked out a chaotic assortment of items: a t-shirt featuring the French flag, a black beret, and a thick, oversized marker. He held them aloft like trophies, his grin widening at the collective confusion of the group.

"This," Johnny began, jabbing the beret into the air for emphasis, "is what separates warriors from amateurs. Mr. Miyagi fought for America. Now it's your turn to fight for... the French!" He tossed the beret onto the training dummy with dramatic flair and began tugging the French flag t-shirt over its battered frame.

Sasha couldn't suppress a snort. "The French? Seriously?"

"Don't question the lesson, LaRusso. Just trust the process," Johnny snapped, waving the marker in her direction before turning back to the dummy. With exaggerated precision, he scrawled a thick, cartoonish mustache on its face. Stepping back, he surveyed his work with an air of triumph. "Voilà! A Frenchman! Sasha, you're up first. Show no mercy!"

Rolling her eyes, Sasha stepped forward, shaking her arms loose as she squared up to the dummy. "Fine, but this is ridiculous," she muttered under her breath, earning a quiet chuckle from Miguel behind her.

She launched into a sharp flurry of punches and kicks, her movements precise and deliberate. Each strike landed with a satisfying thud, rocking the dummy back on its base. Johnny watched intently, nodding his approval, but it didn't take long before his focus shifted.

"Alright, next country!" Johnny declared, ripping the beret off the dummy and replacing it with a t-shirt featuring the Chinese flag. He waved Miguel forward, grinning like a madman. "Diaz, let's see what you've got!"

Miguel stepped up and unleashed a sequence of powerful strikes, his focus unwavering. Johnny circled him like a hawk, shouting instructions. "Harder! Faster! The Chinese invented martial arts—you gotta show them you're better!"

The pattern continued as Johnny cycled through a bizarre collection of country-themed outfits: Canada, Japan, and even the Soviet Union, much to Sasha's exasperation.

"You know the Soviet Union doesn't exist anymore, right?" she pointed out, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Quiet, LaRusso!" Johnny barked, tossing a Soviet hammer-and-sickle t-shirt onto the dummy. "History lesson's over. Now fight!"

From the dojo doorway, Daniel's frown deepened. He started to step forward, then stopped, his instincts warring with his curiosity. This was absurd—even by Johnny's standards—but there was something oddly compelling about the way the teens were throwing themselves into the drills.

Just as the group began to relax, thinking the exercise was over, Johnny's eyes lit up with a new idea. Without a word, he strode toward the koi pond, gesturing for the teens to follow. Hesitant but intrigued, they trailed after him, their shoes crunching against the gravel path.

By the time they reached the pond, Johnny had hauled out a rickety old balance board and was wheeling over a battered pitching machine. The teens froze, their expressions a mix of confusion and growing horror.

"What is he doing?" Sam whispered, leaning closer to Sasha.

"No idea, but I don't like it," Sasha replied, her eyes narrowing as Johnny set the board afloat in the middle of the pond.

Once the contraption was in place, Johnny turned to the group, his grin as wide as ever. "Balance is the foundation of Miyagi-Do," he announced, pacing dramatically along the pond's edge. "If you lose your balance, you lose the fight. LaRusso! Get on the board!"

"Which LaRusso?" Sasha and Sam said in unison.

"Sasha! Not you, Sam!" Johnny clarified, pointing at her. "You're up first!"

Groaning, Sasha waded into the cold water, muttering under her breath about the absurdity of the exercise. She climbed onto the balance board, her arms flailing briefly before she found her footing.

"Balance isn't just about standing still," Johnny began, cracking open a Coors Banquet like he was about to deliver sage wisdom. "It's about handling whatever life throws at you. Speaking of..."

Before Sasha could protest, the pitching machine whirred ominously.

"Wait—what are you doing?" Sasha shouted, her voice tinged with alarm.

The machine launched a beer bottle into the air, narrowly missing her shoulder and splashing into the water behind her.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?!" she yelled, glaring at Johnny.

"That's the spirit! Now dodge the next one!" Johnny shouted, already loading another bottle.

Sasha's instincts kicked in as the next bottle shot toward her. She swatted it away with her palm, sending it spinning into the water. Her hand stung from the impact, but she couldn't help the small grin that tugged at her lips. "This is insane!"

"Insane is my middle name!" Johnny yelled, beaming.

One by one, the others took their turns. Tory smashed the bottles with brute force, muttering curses under her breath. Robby dodged with effortless grace, his balance impeccable. Miguel, ever the showman, caught a bottle mid-flight, earning a loud groan from Johnny.

"Don't catch it, Diaz! This isn't a circus!"

From the sidelines, Sasha wrung out her soaked shirt, shaking her head in disbelief. "Only Johnny Lawrence," she muttered to Miguel, who grinned back at her.

Meanwhile, Daniel remained in the doorway, his arms still crossed. He looked ready to intervene but held back. Against all logic, the teens were learning something. Maybe not traditional karate—but something.

And somehow, Sasha thought as she watched Johnny reload the pitching machine, it was working.

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The sun hung low in the sky, bathing Miyagi-Do in a golden glow that stretched across the sparring deck, casting long shadows of the wooden beams. Sasha stood at the edge of the mat, her palms slick with sweat, her heart pounding with anticipation. The late afternoon air was alive with the buzz of excitement, students murmuring softly as they watched. This match was more than just a spar—it was the decider, the battle that would name the dojo's new female captain. It was the role Sasha had been striving toward, dreaming of for weeks, pushing her limits in every practice session.

Sasha rolled her shoulders and bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, trying to shake off the nervous energy threatening to take hold. Her eyes drifted across the crowd of students and instructors, but her focus was drawn to one person: Tory Nichols.

Tory had always been her fiercest rival, a mix of raw talent and relentless grit. Sasha had prepared herself for this moment, studying Tory's moves, imagining every counterattack. Facing Tory seemed inevitable, and she'd visualized it so many times. But as her gaze swept the students again, a deep crease formed on her brow.

"Where's Tory?" she asked aloud, breaking the tense quiet.

Robby, standing a few feet away adjusting his wrist guards, looked up. He shrugged, his expression troubled. "I don't know," he admitted. "I tried talking to her yesterday, but she hasn't been answering me." His voice carried a note of worry that Sasha couldn't ignore.

Sasha felt a flicker of concern stir in her chest. She knew Robby cared about Tory, and whatever was going on with her must be serious. But she forced the thought down, steeling herself. This wasn't the time to let her focus slip.

She offered Robby a soft, reassuring smile, reaching out to squeeze his arm. "Good luck out there," she said quietly.

Robby returned her smile, a spark of his usual confidence creeping back into his eyes. "Thanks. You too."

As he stepped onto the mat, Sasha turned her attention to her boyfriend, Miguel. He stood nearby, his hands on his hips, exuding his usual calm determination. When their eyes met, he grinned warmly, and she couldn't help but return the smile.

They performed their secret handshake—a playful series of slaps, fist bumps, and an exaggerated spin—something they had come up with as a way to ease nerves before matches.

When the handshake ended, Sasha leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Good luck," she whispered.

Miguel smirked, tilting his head. "Didn't you just say that to Robby?"

Sasha rolled her eyes, giving him a light shove. "He's my friend. You're my best friend. I can root for both of you."

Miguel laughed softly, shaking his head. "Fair enough."

His demeanor shifted as he stepped onto the mat, his body language sharp and focused. Sasha retreated to the sidelines, her pulse quickening as Robby and Miguel squared off. The crowd hushed as Daniel stepped forward, his expression serious. He raised a hand between the two fighters.

"Ready? Fight!" Johnny's voice boomed from the sidelines, and the match began.

Miguel struck first, his movements fast and deliberate. He darted low, sweeping Robby's legs out from under him in one clean motion. Robby hit the mat hard, and Miguel followed with a controlled punch to his midsection.

"Point, Diaz!" Daniel called, raising his hand.

Sasha winced, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her shirt. Robby pushed himself up, his jaw tight with frustration.

"One point, Diaz. Zero points, Keene. Ready? Fight!" Johnny's voice cut through the quiet again.

Robby charged, spinning into a high kick aimed at Miguel's head. Miguel ducked, countering with a punch that Robby blocked with precision. But Miguel was relentless, landing a sharp kick to Robby's chest that echoed across the deck.

"Point, Diaz! Two points," Daniel announced.

Sasha's teeth dug into her bottom lip as her eyes flickered between the two fighters. Robby seemed distracted, his movements slower, less confident. Then she noticed it—his gaze shifting past Miguel toward the dojo entrance. Sasha followed his line of sight, her heart sinking when she saw who had just arrived.

Tory stood in the doorway, her usually sharp and fiery presence replaced with something much quieter, much heavier. Her eyes were red, her posture stiff, and her movements sluggish as she stepped inside.

"Tory, are you okay?" Sasha asked, her voice soft with concern.

Tory's eyes flicked to Sasha, but she didn't answer. She looked past her, scanning the room as if searching for an anchor. There was something in her expression—a deep, unspoken hurt—that made Sasha's stomach twist.

Before she could press further, Johnny's bark snapped her back to the mat.

"Ready? Fight!"

Robby's focus returned in an instant, his stance solid as Miguel lunged. The two moved with renewed intensity, Miguel launching a flurry of strikes that Robby blocked with calculated precision. When Miguel swept for Robby's legs again, Robby countered with a stunning backflip, drawing gasps from the crowd.

"Point, Keene! Two to one," Daniel announced.

Sasha clapped, relief easing the tension in her shoulders. Robby was back in the fight, and it showed.

The final round was a whirlwind of speed and skill. Miguel backed Robby toward the edge of the mat with rapid strikes, but Robby pivoted at the last second, dodging a punch and landing a powerful spinning kick to Miguel's face.

"Point. Winner!" Daniel declared, raising Robby's arm in victory as the dojo erupted into cheers.

Sasha clapped along with the others, her gaze darting toward Tory, who had slipped quietly to the back of the crowd. Something was wrong, and Sasha knew she wouldn't be able to ignore it for long. But for now, she let herself take in the moment, her heart pounding as she prepared for her own match.

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Sasha stepped onto the sparring deck, her heart racing as the adrenaline surged through her veins. The atmosphere was thick with tension, like the calm before a storm, and her gaze locked onto Tory, who stood across from her, fists clenched and eyes full of barely contained rage. The years of friendship seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by something far more complicated—something raw. Despite the intensity of the moment, Sasha forced a soft smile, trying to reach through the anger and frustration, hoping to bring a sense of calm to the situation.

"May the best Queen Cobra or Bonsai Badass win," Sasha joked, her voice light but her heart heavy with concern. The words felt like an attempt to break the ice, to cut through the thick, charged air. But her smile faltered when she saw the look in Tory's eyes—a look that told her this wasn't just a sparring match anymore.

Tory's eyes flickered briefly to Sasha's outstretched fist, a sign of the old camaraderie they once shared, but hesitation lingered in her gaze. The silence stretched, hanging between them like an unspoken challenge. Sasha's hand trembled slightly, the doubt creeping in as she felt the distance between them widen with each passing second. Just as Sasha began to withdraw her fist, Tory sighed, her expression a mix of frustration and regret. Slowly, with a deep, almost reluctant breath, she met Sasha's fist halfway. The handshake was stiff—forced, mechanical—and Sasha could feel the weight of unspoken words in that brief contact.

"Fighting positions!" Daniel's voice shattered the stillness, and both girls immediately stepped back, raising their fists. The air between them crackled with tension, the weight of their unresolved issues hanging over every move they made. Sasha's pulse quickened, but she tried to focus. She had to find a way to reach Tory—to break through whatever wall had been built between them. She couldn't let this fight spiral out of control.

"Fight!" Daniel barked, and the command sent a jolt of energy through the deck.

Tory was the first to move, charging at Sasha with a primal yell, throwing a kick that cut through the air with frightening speed. Sasha ducked just in time, feeling the wind from Tory's foot graze her cheek. The intensity of Tory's assault was overwhelming—punches came at Sasha in rapid succession, each strike more wild and unrestrained than the last. Sasha barely had time to react, her arms blocking and deflecting, her body moving on instinct. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she fought to stay upright, her muscles screaming in protest.

Then, Tory launched a sweeping kick aimed at Sasha's head. In one fluid motion, Sasha dropped low, her legs sweeping underneath Tory's, knocking her off balance. In a split second, Sasha sprang to her feet and landed a solid punch into Tory's stomach.

"Point, LaRusso!" Johnny called from the sidelines, his voice cutting through the tension.

Tory's face twisted with frustration, her hands slamming into the mat as she pushed herself up. Sasha stepped back, her breath coming in heavy gasps, her eyes narrowing as she watched Tory pace. The anger radiating off her was palpable, but there was something else—something deeper and darker that Sasha couldn't quite grasp. Something wasn't right.

"Tor, are you okay?" Sasha asked, her voice soft but laced with genuine concern. She had thought they could move past the old wounds, but now, seeing Tory like this, Sasha's worry only deepened.

Tory didn't answer immediately. She simply exhaled sharply, turning her gaze away from Sasha for a moment before locking eyes with her again. The anger in her eyes was simmering, but there was also an undercurrent of something more fragile—something Sasha couldn't place. Before Sasha could ask more, Tory charged again, her fists flying with even more fury than before.

Sasha struggled to keep up, her arms aching from the constant blocking. The force of each punch seemed to push her further back, and she could feel her body beginning to tire. Tory's rage was almost tangible, and Sasha could see the cracks forming in her focus. This wasn't just about the sparring anymore—it was personal. And Sasha was afraid it was about to get worse.

With a guttural scream, Tory delivered a brutal kick to Sasha's side. Pain shot through Sasha's body, sharp and excruciating. She collapsed to the mat, gasping for air, her neck hitting the hard surface with a sickening thud. For a moment, everything went blurry, and all Sasha could hear was the ringing in her ears. She blinked, trying to clear the fog from her mind, and forced herself to look up at Tory. The fury in Tory's face was unmistakable, but there was something else there too—something raw and untamed, like a dam about to break.

Tory stood over her, her gaze unwavering and cold.

"Sasha?" Daniel's voice cut through the fog of Sasha's mind, and she blinked, forcing herself to focus on him. "You okay?"

"I'm... fine," Sasha muttered, her voice shaking despite her attempts to steady it. She pushed herself up, every part of her body screaming in protest, but she couldn't show weakness. Not now. Not in front of Tory.

Daniel seemed unconvinced. His face tightened, his anger flaring as he turned to Tory. "That should be no point—"

"Stop!" Sasha interrupted, her voice firm despite the pain pulsing through her. "It's fine. I'm okay," she insisted, trying to calm the situation, trying to keep it from escalating further. She knew that if her dad took the point away, it would only make things worse, pushing Tory further into her fury.

Daniel hesitated, then reluctantly turned to Johnny, signaling for the fight to continue. Miguel, watching from the sidelines, looked concerned, but said nothing.

Johnny sighed deeply and raised his hand. "That's a warning, Nichols. Next one's a deduction. Got it?"

Tory barely acknowledged the warning, her gaze still burning with rage. Sasha stood her ground, her body trembling as she prepared to continue. She couldn't let this go on like this. Tory was too far gone, and if Sasha didn't take control, it was going to spiral out of control.

"Ready? Fight!" Johnny's voice rang out, but before Sasha could adjust, Tory lunged at her again, fists flying with even greater speed and power.

This time, Sasha was ready. She ducked under one punch and grabbed Tory by the arm, spinning her around and sending her stumbling backward. Without hesitation, Sasha followed up with a sharp kick to Tory's stomach.

"Point, LaRusso! Two to one!" Johnny called out, his voice cutting through the tension.

Sasha felt a brief flash of relief, but it was short-lived. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, her body screaming for rest, but when she looked into Tory's eyes, she knew the fight wasn't over yet.

"Fighting positions. Ready? Fight!" Johnny shouted, and before Sasha could adjust, Tory let out a guttural cry and charged again.

This time, it was different. Tory wasn't just throwing punches. She grabbed Sasha's arm, yanking her off balance and throwing her hard to the mat. The impact was brutal—Sasha's knees slammed into the ground, sending shockwaves of pain through her legs. She groaned, struggling to regain her bearings as she looked up, but Tory was already on top of her, ready to strike again.

Instinctively, Sasha wrapped her leg around Tory's waist, pulling her down with everything she had left. The floor cracked beneath them as they collided, but Tory was quick to recover, scrambling to her feet with a ferocious growl.

Before she could strike again, Daniel rushed forward, grabbing Tory's fist to stop her. Sasha froze, her breath catching in her throat as she realized just how close she had come to serious injury.

"The fight's over," Daniel said quietly, his tone firm but tinged with regret. Tory, however, wasn't ready to let it end.

"That's not fair! That could've been a point!" Tory shouted, her frustration spilling over as she threw her hands up in protest.

Daniel shook his head, his expression weary but resolute. "We can't do this right now. Not in front of everybody."

Tory's anger seemed to twist into something darker, more desperate. She turned to Daniel, her eyes welling up with tears. "Don't stop the fight. Please," she begged, her voice trembling. "I need this. I have to fight."

Ignoring her plea, Daniel gestured for the girls to step off the mat. "Come on, off the deck. Let's go."

Sasha's confusion deepened as she stepped closer to Tory, wanting to understand what was going on, but before she could speak, Johnny's voice cut through the tension.

"Dad? What's going on?" Sasha asked, her voice shaky with concern.

"Don't tell them what to do. I'm their sensei too!" Johnny snapped.

Daniel turned sharply, his frustration evident. "Well then, end the fight!"

Sasha shook her head, glancing between the two men, still unsure of what was happening. "What's going on?" she repeated, her voice rising with panic. "Why are we stopping the fight?"

Johnny turned to her, his expression softening just slightly. "Yeah, why stop the fight?"

Daniel's voice dropped to a low, serious tone. "Because my mother died."

The words hit like a blow, and the room fell silent. Tory's raw emotion poured out, and Sasha's heart twisted with sympathy as the weight of what Tory had been carrying came crashing down on her. This wasn't just a fight for power—it was a fight for something deeper. Something Sasha hadn't seen.

Sasha instinctively took a step forward, her concern growing, but Tory flinched back, her walls going up once more.

"Tory, I... I'm so sorry," Sasha murmured, her voice laced with genuine regret, her heart aching with every word. She took a slow, cautious step toward her, her hand outstretched, but her movements were hesitant, as if afraid of overstepping. The air between them was charged, thick with unspoken emotions. "But we can't keep doing this. We can't keep fighting, not like this. This isn't the time, not when everything is falling apart. Please, don't let this push us further apart."

Tory's eyes flickered, a storm of emotions raging in them. The anger she'd been carrying simmered beneath the surface, but there was something else there, something vulnerable. Her bottom lip trembled, and she shook her head slightly, as if trying to shake off the weight of Sasha's words. Her gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, and Sasha held her breath, wondering if maybe, just maybe, Tory was finally going to let her in, let the walls fall down.

But before she could make any assumptions, Tory's shoulders stiffened, and her gaze snapped toward Daniel, her voice rising in desperation.

"Yes, it is!" Tory practically screamed, her words sharp, her chest heaving as she jabbed her finger toward the ground, the action frantic and erratic. Her eyes were wide with panic, the tears she had been holding back now spilling freely down her cheeks. "I have to fight! You don't get it! I can't lose this! I can't! Please, I have to do this! I need this so badly!"

Sasha's heart twisted painfully, but she didn't say anything. She watched, helpless, as Tory's emotional dam broke. The anger in her eyes was still there, but now it was tinged with something else—something raw, something desperate. It wasn't about the fight anymore. It was about something deeper, something Sasha didn't fully understand, but could feel with every ounce of her being.

Daniel's expression softened, his jaw tight as he struggled to maintain his composure. He was torn, caught between wanting to help Tory and understanding that this wasn't the solution. His eyes flickered to Johnny, silently seeking guidance, and for the briefest moment, Sasha thought she saw a flicker of doubt in his gaze.

"Sensei Lawrence," Daniel muttered, his voice low and filled with weariness. "Some help here, please."

Johnny stepped forward, his presence like a calm in the storm. The room seemed to hold its breath as he approached, his eyes unwavering as he looked at Tory. Then, his gaze flicked toward Sasha, and for just a second, it felt like he was seeing right through her. He turned back to Tory, his voice calm but firm, as if he'd made up his mind.

"It's not up to us," Johnny said, his tone surprisingly gentle but resolute. "If Nichols wants to fight, she should." The words hung in the air, clear and cutting through the tension with surgical precision.

Sasha's chest tightened at his declaration, a lump rising in her throat. This wasn't the way. She knew it wasn't the way. But there was something undeniably fierce in Tory's eyes, something that wouldn't be silenced. It was like a fire that refused to be extinguished, and no matter how much Sasha wanted to fight for her, for them, she wasn't sure how.

Daniel's face hardened immediately, and he shot Johnny a glare that could have pierced steel. "You really think this is the answer?" Daniel snapped, his voice sharp, but Johnny didn't flinch. He merely gave him a pointed look before shifting his attention back to the girls.

The room was silent, the weight of the unspoken words pressing down on everyone. It was as though the world had paused, and all that mattered in that moment was the tension between them. Sasha's heart pounded, her mind racing as she tried to understand how things had spiraled so far out of control. She wanted to fix this, to reach out to Tory and pull her back from the edge, but it felt like everything she said only pushed her further away.

Tory wasn't done, though. She took a step back, her hands trembling at her sides as frustration boiled over. "Find another way? No!" she shouted, her voice cracking with the weight of everything she had held inside. "You don't get it! None of you get it! My mom... my mom would've wanted this!" Her voice faltered, breaking as she spoke her mother's name, and her shoulders shook violently with the force of her grief. "If I don't fight... I have to do this for her. She would've wanted me to. I have to fight."

Her words hit Sasha like a physical blow, the pain in Tory's voice cutting deeper than anything else. It wasn't about the title or the competition. This was about something far more complicated, far more painful. Tory wasn't just fighting for herself; she was fighting for the memory of her mother, for something that had been lost and could never be reclaimed. And Sasha—Sasha was standing there, utterly powerless to help.

Daniel's expression softened, the flicker of understanding crossing his face, but he remained firm. "We'll figure out another way to decide on captain," he insisted, his voice softer now, trying to defuse the situation. He began to step back, his footsteps heavy as he turned away, like he was ready to end the confrontation.

But Tory wasn't listening. The words that had been building inside her for so long broke free, raw and full of fury. "You just don't want me to fight because you know I can beat your daughter!" she snapped, her voice bitter, venomous.

Daniel's face turned stony, a look of disbelief in his eyes. "Tory—"

Sasha's frown deepened, and she shook her head, stepping forward despite the tension in the air. "Tory, that's not true," she said quietly, her voice gentle but firm. She wanted to reach her, to pull her back from the edge of the abyss, but she wasn't sure if Tory was even listening anymore.

Tory's frustration finally boiled over, her breath ragged as she spun around, her body trembling with exhaustion and emotion. "You want this fight to be over?" she yelled, her voice breaking with the intensity of everything she had bottled up. "Fine! It's over!" She threw her arms out in frustration, and with a final, violent breath, she stormed off the deck, her fists clenched tightly at her sides as she marched away.

Sasha stood there, motionless, watching as Tory disappeared into the distance. A cold wave of helplessness crashed over her, making her feel like she was suffocating. She had failed. Again. She was about to follow her, to chase after her, to fix this—but before she could take a single step, Miguel was there, his arms wrapping around her from behind, holding her back as she struggled against him, trying to break free.

But it was no use. The weight of everything felt too heavy, too suffocating.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

The dojo was silent, the tension so thick it was almost tangible. The mats beneath their feet seemed to hum with anticipation, every eye in the room fixed on the two girls standing at opposite ends of the training space. Sasha's heart pounded in her chest, each beat loud enough to drown out the murmurs from the others. This was it. The fight for the captain spot.

On the opposite side of the room stood Sam, her expression hard, her stance confident but tinged with the faintest hint of uncertainty. Sasha knew her older sister well, perhaps too well. Sam's strength had always been more than just physical—there was a quiet determination in her that had always been impossible to ignore. But Sasha wasn't a little kid anymore. She had spent the last few months training harder than ever, pushing herself to the edge, and now, this was her moment. She wasn't going to back down.

"Ready?" Daniel's voice cut through the tension, his tone firm yet careful, as if he knew how much was riding on this.

Sasha nodded, her fists clenched at her sides, her eyes never leaving Sam. Sam, however, just gave a curt nod, her gaze unblinking. There was something almost cold in her eyes, a resolve that sent a shiver down Sasha's spine. She had never seen Sam like this before, not when they were kids, not when they were in training together. Sam had always been her protector, her mentor, but now, they were rivals. And it hurt in ways Sasha wasn't sure she could put into words.

The fight began with a single movement. Sam lunged forward, her movements quick and precise, aiming for Sasha's midsection with a sharp punch. Sasha barely had time to react, but she managed to twist to the side just in time, the punch grazing her arm instead of landing directly on her. She winced but didn't hesitate, ducking under Sam's next attack, using the momentum to spin and deliver a kick to Sam's ribs.

The older girl grunted, stumbling back a few steps, but quickly regained her balance, her eyes narrowing. Sasha could feel the power behind Sam's strikes, each one meant to knock her down, but she was faster. She had spent countless hours perfecting her technique, watching Sam's every move, anticipating her reactions. She could read her like an open book.

Sam's next strike came low, aiming for Sasha's legs, trying to take her down with a sweep, but Sasha was already moving, leaping into the air, her foot connecting with Sam's shoulder, sending her staggering backward. Sasha landed gracefully on her feet, adrenaline coursing through her veins. This was her fight. She wasn't going to let Sam win—not this time.

"Come on, Sam!" Sasha shouted, her voice rough with the effort, but she couldn't stop the surge of energy that flowed through her as she saw the doubt flicker across her sister's face. "This isn't over yet."

Sam's face twisted in frustration, and Sasha saw a flash of something else—hurt. She could feel it, too. They were fighting, yes, but the bond they shared was still there, buried deep beneath the competition, the anger, and the hurt. Sam wasn't just her opponent; she was family. But Sasha had come too far to back down now. She couldn't let fear or doubt stop her.

With a deep breath, Sasha charged forward, throwing a flurry of punches. Sam blocked most of them, but Sasha's speed and agility made it nearly impossible for her to keep up. Her final strike was swift—a quick, well-placed kick to Sam's midsection that sent her to the floor with a resounding thud.

For a moment, the room fell into absolute silence. Sam lay on the mat, panting, her eyes wide with disbelief. She had never been beaten like this before—not by anyone, let alone her younger sister. Sasha stood over her, chest heaving with exertion, her eyes full of determination. It wasn't just about the fight—it was about proving to herself that she was worthy of the responsibility, that she could stand up for what she believed in.

Sam slowly sat up, her face flushed with exertion and a mixture of emotions. She didn't say anything at first, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath. Sasha extended a hand toward her, her voice softer now, filled with understanding.

"Sam... I didn't want to hurt you," she said quietly, her tone gentle but firm. "But I need this. I need to prove to everyone—and to myself—that I can do this."

Sam hesitated for a moment, her gaze shifting between Sasha's outstretched hand and her face. The silence stretched on, but then, slowly, Sam reached out and took her sister's hand, helping herself to her feet.

"I know," Sam muttered, her voice thick with emotion. "I know you're ready. You've been working for this... You've earned it."

Sasha felt a wave of relief wash over her, the weight of the battle and the unspoken tension between them starting to lift. She had won, but it wasn't just about the title. It was about moving forward, about growing, and about not letting their past hold them back.

Daniel gave a small nod from the sidelines, and Johnny's expression softened with approval. The others who had been watching the fight now stood still, some with expressions of shock, others with quiet admiration.

Sasha turned back to Sam, her gaze steady. "I'll do my best to make you proud," she promised.

Sam's lips curled into a small smile, a genuine one this time. "You already have," she said, her voice soft. "Just don't forget that you're still my little sister."

Sasha chuckled, her heart lighter than it had been in a long time. She had won the fight, but in the end, it was their bond that had emerged victorious.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

"Gather around, please!" Daniel's voice rang out across the dojo with authority, each syllable echoing off the walls like a drumbeat. The sound vibrated through the floorboards, and every student instantly froze, their eyes locking onto him. The soft murmur of conversations died down, replaced by an expectant hush that seemed to linger in the air. Sasha could feel the shift—the energy around her thickening as tension rose, a buzz that vibrated in her chest and legs.

As Daniel and Johnny made their way to the sparring deck, the room shifted with them. It felt like the collective breath of the entire dojo was held in suspense. Sasha couldn't shake the feeling that something monumental was about to happen—this was more than just another training session. She could feel it deep in her bones. The rest of the students, those not chosen for the Sekai Takai, formed a quiet line behind the five top competitors. Their faces held varying expressions: some were nervous, others full of pride, but all were attentive. The weight of the moment was impossible to ignore. Everyone here was part of this, whether they'd be going to Barcelona or staying behind.

Sasha's heart hammered in her chest as she stood tall with the others who had earned their place in the Sekai Takai training. The five of them—each a symbol of hard work, resilience, and loyalty to Miyagi-Do—had been selected, and now, they stood like pillars before their teachers. Their postures were a mixture of pride and anxiety, all too aware of the responsibility they were about to shoulder.

Daniel's eyes scanned the room, and Sasha could see the softness in his gaze as he looked at each student, his silent appreciation palpable. He was proud, that much was clear. Proud of them all, for the progress they had made, regardless of who would step onto the plane to Barcelona.

He paused for a moment, letting the silence stretch, allowing the full weight of the situation to settle over them. "Training for the Sekai Takai has been hard on all of us," Daniel began, his voice steady, yet layered with genuine warmth. His words were infused with gratitude, each one carrying a weight that made the room feel even more intimate. "But now, training is over. While most of you won't be going to Barcelona, we know you'll be there with us in spirit."

A brief, almost reverent silence filled the room as his words sunk in. This wasn't just a competition or a tournament—it was about family. The dojo had become more than just a place to train. It was where they had built something together, something that would transcend any geographic distance. Sasha felt a swell of emotion in her chest, a bittersweet pride at being part of something bigger than herself.

A quiet murmur of approval rippled through the students, and even the smallest of smiles crept onto their faces. Sasha, her eyes locked on the floor for a brief moment, couldn't help but feel that strange, mixed emotion: pride in their collective achievements, sadness at how fleeting this time together might be.

Johnny, standing beside Daniel, gave a stiff nod and stepped forward. His usual hard edge softened slightly, though his face still bore a serious expression. Clearing his throat, he spoke with his signature gruffness, but there was a slight crack in his voice. "Since Tory won't be going with us..." he began, and a quiet, collective exhale filled the room. Tory had been a key part of their training, and her absence left a hole no one had yet quite filled.

The room hung in the air, waiting for Johnny's next words.

"We've decided Hawk will take her spot," Johnny finished, the words hanging heavy in the air.

Sasha's heart leaped in her chest. She didn't hesitate—before she even realized it, her hands were clapping together, her voice ringing out with exuberance, "Yes! Yes, Eli!" Her enthusiasm was raw and unfiltered, a cheer that started in her chest and spilled out in a burst of pride.

Eli, who had been standing near the edge of the line, looked briefly stunned by her outburst. His expression shifted quickly—surprise giving way to a grin that lit up his face, making the room seem to glow with his joy. The applause came instantly, echoing around the dojo like a sudden storm. Sasha could see the pride on Eli's face, and her heart swelled as she caught a glimpse of how far he had come. He had grown into someone who stood tall, someone worthy of the responsibility, not just a student but a leader.

Sasha watched Eli stride forward, each step purposeful, his usual swagger amplified by the recognition of his achievement. She grinned widely as he passed, nudging him playfully with her shoulder. "You've earned this, Hawk," she said, her voice full of warmth and admiration. Eli shot her a quick look, gratitude flashing across his face before he took his place in line.

The room erupted into applause again, louder this time, everyone celebrating his moment. Sasha couldn't stop smiling as she clapped along with the others. It was a moment of genuine happiness, a collective acknowledgment of all their hard work.

As the applause finally began to die down, Daniel took a step forward, his demeanor shifting from celebration to solemnity. The room quieted in an instant, every student aware of the gravity of what was coming next. Daniel's gaze swept over the room once more, and Sasha could feel the weight of his words bearing down on her.

"You seven will be fighting for Miyagi-Do," Daniel said, his voice steady and filled with resolve. "It will be the toughest challenge you've faced yet. And to win, we must all be there for each other. This isn't just about one fight. It's about representing everything Miyagi-Do stands for."

Johnny stepped forward, his voice sharp, bringing the focus back to the task at hand. "Captains, step forward," he ordered, raising his hand. The command was clear. Sasha's stomach twisted with anticipation, and she stepped forward with the others, her heart pounding in her chest.

She could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on her. This was it. This was what they had all been working for. She glanced over at Sam, her sister, standing beside her. There was no turning back now. Sam's eyes met hers for a brief moment, a silent understanding passing between them. This wasn't just about winning. It was about honor. It was about who they had become through all the challenges, all the struggles. It was about the dojo they had both sacrificed for.

As the students prepared to step into their new roles, Daniel called out, "Chris, bring up the official Sekai Takai captain headbands."

Chris moved forward, his steps steady, but there was a nervous tension in his posture, like he was carrying something heavier than the small, sleek case he held in his hands. His movements were purposeful, but there was something in the way he handled the case—like it meant more than just a symbol. It was a responsibility. A promise.

Sasha took a deep breath as Chris opened the case, revealing the headbands. Daniel stepped forward, his hand outstretched, but as he reached for the headband, he froze.

"Dad?" Sasha's voice trembled slightly as she looked up at Daniel. Something was off. His expression was tense, his brow furrowed in confusion.

He hesitated, looking at her, before tying the headband around her forehead, but his fingers were stiff. His usual steady movements had faltered. The knot was tighter than it should have been, his face drawn with concern.

"What's wrong?" Sasha asked, her voice softer now, worry creeping in as she searched his face for answers.

Without a word, Daniel's gaze flickered toward the small hut at the side of the dojo. His jaw clenched, his expression unreadable. He tied the knot quickly, and then without explanation, he turned and darted inside the hut, leaving Sasha standing there, bewildered and confused.

The room felt heavy, the energy now replaced with a quiet tension, as everyone looked between Sasha and Daniel. Something had shifted, but Sasha wasn't sure what. She felt her pulse quicken, the strange weight of uncertainty settling over her like a fog. What had just happened? And why did her father leave so suddenly?

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

The long flight to Barcelona had been a blur—exhaustion from the jet lag, the quiet hum of the plane, and the ever-present tension in the air as the team prepared for the Sekai Taikai. Sasha couldn't shake the knot in her stomach as the plane touched down, and by the time they reached the arena, she felt both eager and anxious. This was it—the culmination of everything they'd worked for. The place where they would prove themselves. But the buzzing anticipation mixed with a sense of unease she couldn't quite place.

The massive arena loomed in front of them as Sasha and her team made their way through the entrance, stepping into a world that felt so much bigger than anything they had trained for. The noise was overwhelming—the roar of the crowd, the shuffle of footsteps, the clinking of weapons being prepared for the competition—but Sasha felt an almost surreal stillness in her own bubble. She took in the colossal scale of the arena, the grandiose banners hanging from the rafters, the flashing lights that illuminated everything, and the ring in the center where all the action would soon take place.

Her gaze wandered as her team moved forward, their chatter and laughter filling the space around her. It was a mixture of nervous energy and excitement, the overwhelming sense that they were about to step into something monumental. The air seemed thick with potential, like the whole world was watching.

As Sasha walked along with her team, she couldn't help but scan the faces in the crowd. There were fighters, coaches, and fans from all over the world, and the atmosphere crackled with intensity. The Sekai Taikai was not just any tournament—it was a global event that brought together the best of the best. The world's eyes were on them.

Then, she saw them. Cobra Kai. It was hard not to. Their black and yellow uniforms stood out against the sea of other colors, and there they were—standing together, exuding that unmistakable arrogance. Sasha's eyes immediately landed on a familiar face. A boy with a cocky grin stretched across his face. He caught her gaze across the room, and before she could look away, he gave her a mischievous smirk and winked.

Sasha felt a jolt run through her. For a moment, she stood frozen, her heart skipping a beat. She didn't know why, but his wink stirred something in her. Her cheeks flushed involuntarily, a warmth creeping up from her neck. She felt her lips twitch into a shy smile before she could stop it. It was the kind of smile she rarely allowed herself to show—soft and vulnerable.

But then, as quickly as it had come, the smile faltered. Her eyes followed the Cobra Kai team, and the moment of warmth drained from her as her gaze landed on someone she hadn't expected to see. Tory. She had joined the Cobra Kai team.

Her heart dropped.

The sight of her, standing confidently among the others, sent a wave of disappointment and unease crashing over Sasha. She had been dreading this. Dreading the moment when Tory, the person she had tried to distance herself from, would become a part of Cobra Kai's inner circle. And there she was, standing tall, her eyes scanning the arena with a familiar coldness, a fierce pride in her stance.

Sasha's stomach twisted, and the smile that had briefly graced her face vanished completely. The room around her felt suddenly smaller, more suffocating. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Tory. There was so much unresolved between them—so much anger, so much history.

Sasha felt a pang in her chest. She hadn't expected to be hit this hard. She had told herself she was over it, that it didn't matter, but seeing Tory standing there with Cobra Kai, so undeniably part of their world now, made it feel like it mattered more than ever.

She quickly looked away, blinking rapidly to chase away the unease pooling in her chest. She was here to focus on the tournament, to do what she had trained for. But she couldn't shake the image of Tory from her mind. The girl who had been both her rival and someone she had once been close to. Now, she was a part of the enemy team.

Sasha forced herself to refocus on the task ahead. She had to be stronger than this. She had to let go of the past and keep her eyes on the present. But no matter how hard she tried, a part of her heart felt heavier than before, as if something had shifted, and she wasn't sure how to navigate it.

She turned back to her team, trying to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach. But no matter where she looked, the weight of the past seemed to linger, following her into this new, high-stakes battle.

ASH SPEAKS!!!

HOLY SHIT LONG FIRST CHAPTER LMFAO

ANYWAYS KWON AND SASHA IS GONNA EAT UPPPP

gonna be sad when kwon death happens... part 3 sasha is gonna be crazyyyy

PLEASE DONT BE A GHOST READER!!
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