𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎 was the only thing heard in Missie's office. The paintings from Boston finally arrived, and were hung on the gallery wall. Missie sat at her desk, her reading glasses slipping slightly down her nose and answering emails from other art historians, while sipping her morning coffee, when a knock resonated on her office door.

"Come in," Missie called, taking off her reading glasses, and setting them to the side. The door opened to Beth, Kathy, and Lana, each holding a cup of coffee.

"Hey, hon," Beth said, taking a seat into the armchair across from Missie's desk. "We've been waiting all morning. You never called us about the date last night."

"It wasn't a date." Missie blushed

Lana took a seat in the other chair. "The blush on your cheeks say other wise."

Missie laughed and stirred her coffee. "Okay, maybe it was. I meant to call, but things got... interesting."

"So that means there was drama." Kathy chuckled, taking a seat next to Lana. "What happened?"

"Well," Missie began, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "Johnny and I went to El Coyote, and Daniel and Amanda showed up."

Lana raised her brow. "You're kidding."

Missie shook her head. "Nope. Total coincidence. We were halfway through a conversation when they walked in."

"Let me guess," Kathy said. "Johnny and Daniel couldn't help themselves."

"They tried," Missie said. "But by the time the waiter brought the second round of chips, they were comparing dojo class sizes like it was a cage match."

Beth chuckled. "Of course they were."

"It started with Johnny saying his classes were filling up faster than ever, then Daniel chimed in with, 'Well, quality over quantity,' and it just snowballed from there." Missie said

Lana rolled her eyes. "Why are men like this?"

"They were practically measuring square footage and sparring styles," Missie said, chuckling. "I thought Amanda was going to crawl under the table from boredom."

"And you just sat there, sipping your margarita?" Kathy asked.

"Guilty," Missie said, laughing. "I figured if I got involved, I'd only make it worse."

Before they could respond, Missie's phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and immediately went still.

"Amanda," she said, and put the call on speaker. "Hey, you're on speaker."

Amanda's voice came through, tight with worry. "Hey hon. There was a fight up at the high school. A bad one. Some kids got hurt. Sam and Miguel being two of them. Daniel and I are on our way to the hospital now."

Missie stood from her chair, grabbing her purse and keys. "I'm on my way." As she ended the call, turned to the girls, eyes wide and glassy with sudden fear. "I have to go—"

Beth stood immediately. "We've got everything covered here."

"Go be with Daniel and Amanda," Lana said, her voice soft but firm. "We'll hold down the fort."

"We'll check in later," Kathy added, moving in to hug her. "Keep us posted, okay?"

"Drive safe," Beth said, embracing her best friend.

"And call if you need us." Lana added.

Missie's voice wavered slightly as she whispered, "I love you guys."

"We love you too,"

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The brightness of the hospital room couldn't mask the tension that hung in the air. Sam lay on the hospital bed, her face bruised and swollen, a nurse carefully stitching a gash on her arm. She winced but didn't cry. The tears were already falling for a different reason.

Just down the hall, Miguel had been rushed into the ICU. They hadn't told them much—just that he was stable but being monitored closely.

Daniel stood on one side of Sam's bed, Amanda behind him, while Missie stood quietly 0n the other side of the bed, her expression heavy with worry.

"It's all right now, okay?" Daniel said softly, brushing a strand of hair from Sam's forehead. "Everything's gonna be all right."

"I'm gonna make sure that girl gets expelled," Amanda stated.

"I don't care about Tory!" Sam cried suddenly, her voice cracking. "I just want Miguel to be okay."

"I can't believe Robby would do that." Daniel saidx

Sam's eyes welled up again. "It's all my fault."

"What? No, sweetheart. Don't say that." Missie said

"It is," Sam insisted. "I kissed Miguel at the party last night."

Daniel stepped in. "Sam, no. Listen to me. What happened today wasn't your fault. There were a lot of people involved who made their own choices."

"But if I hadn't—" Sam started, but Amanda gently squeezed her hand.

"Honey, Tory brought this fight with her," Amanda said. "You didn't start this."

"Mr. and Mrs. LaRusso, can I speak with you please?" The doctor asked

As Daniel and Amanda followed the doctor out, Sam closed her eyes, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. Missie sat beside her, quietly holding her hand.

"I called Brooke," Missie said softly, brushing Sam's hair away from her eyes. "And Whitney, Kaitlin, and Farrah. They were getting ready to leave for New York... but they're coming here first."

Sam blinked and looked over. "They don't have to come all the way here. Not for me."

"They want to." Missie said. "They love you."

There was a knock at the door. A moment later, Brooke stepped in, followed by Whitney, Kaitlin, and Farrah, all dressed in chic travel outfits, but their expressions were nothing but soft and concerned.

"Sam..." Brooke rushed to her side. "Oh, sweetheart."

"We came as soon as we could," Whitney added, carefully perching on the edge of the bed.

"You didn't have to—" Sam started, but her voice broke.

"Yes, we did," Kaitlin said gently, taking her hand. "You're family. When one of us is hurting, we show up. End of story."

Farrah knelt beside the bed, looking up at Sam. "We heard about Miguel. I'm so sorry. We're all praying."

Sam swallowed hard. "I kissed him last night. At the party. Just before everything... before all this happened. I mean, he kissed me back, but—what if it was a mistake? What if I made everything worse?"

Brooke's brows furrowed in sympathy. "Oh, Sam. That wasn't a mistake. You care about him."

"I do," Sam said, her voice cracking. "And I didn't get to tell him. Not properly. Now he's lying there and I—" She broke off, the guilt overwhelming her.

Missie moved to sit beside her on the bed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Sweetheart, that kiss didn't put Miguel in a coma. A fight did. You didn't cause this."

Sam wiped her tears. "But if he wakes up and doesn't remember—or if he does and regrets it..."

"He won't," Brooke said firmly.

Farrah nodded. "If Miguel kissed you back, even for a second, it meant something."

"And if you need to say something to him, you'll get the chance," Whitney said. "He's strong. You'll see."

Sam buried her face into Missie's shoulder, her voice muffled. "I'm so scared."

Missie kissed the top of her head. "We all are, honey. But you're not alone."

After a moment, Brooke checked her watch and sighed. "We have to head out or we'll miss our flight, but—Sam, if you need anything, call. I don't care if we're backstage or in front of a thousand people."

"We love you," Kaitlin said, giving her hand a squeeze.

"Aunt Missie, you coming?" Farrah asked.

"I'll catch the next flight." Missie said. "I have some things to take care of here."

As the cousins said goodbye, the door closed behind them, and the room fell quiet again. Missie stayed beside Sam.

"He's going to feel that kiss," Missie whispered. "Whether he remembers it or not. And he'll know what it meant."

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Johnny stood by the window of the room where they were working on Miguel, tears brimming in his eyes as he watched the doctors move with quiet urgency. Miguel lay motionless on the hospital bed, wires and tubes connecting him to the machines keeping him alive. Johnny pressed his hand flat against the glass, as if he could reach through it. He was completely and utterly lost.

After some time, he stepped away and pulled out his phone. He listened to a voicemail Miguel had left him—his voice full of hope and trust—and that only made the guilt heavier. Without another word, Johnny turned and left the hospital.

He climbed into his Dodge Charger, the engine growling as he drove through the night. His mind was a blur of regret, anger, and confusion. When he pulled up to the Cobra Kai dojo, he reached for his keys—only to notice the door was already ajar.

He hesitated, then pushed it open.

The dojo was dimly lit, empty in the front. The mats were untouched. But from the back, he heard muffled sounds—grunts, fists hitting pads.

Johnny walked toward the noise and found the back room alive with movement. A group of students, clad in their Cobra Kai gis, were practicing their strikes with intensity. And there, standing in front of them like a general before his army, was Kreese.

Kreese glanced at Johnny and smirked. "Class, we have a visitor."

The students stopped instantly, stepping back into formation, arms folded behind their backs. They turned to face Johnny.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Johnny snapped, stepping forward.

"What does it look like? I'm teaching my students," Kreese replied smugly.

"Your students?" Johnny echoed, incredulous.

"You let them down when they needed you the most. Somebody needed to remind them what it takes to win."

Johnny's eyes scanned the kids, the ones he had trained, the ones who had once looked up to him. "After everything I did for you?" he asked them, voice tight with hurt.

"Miguel's in the hospital because of you," Hawk spat. "He showed mercy to Robby Keene because of you. If he dies, that's on you."

"I did warn you about this," Kreese added, calm and calculated. "I told you not to show weakness."

Johnny stepped forward, fists clenched. "Get out."

"This is my dojo," Kreese said coolly. He took a step closer, a sinister smile creeping onto his face. "Oh, I forgot to tell you—while you were out of town, I had a little talk with the landlord. Turns out he doesn't like you much. You know the problem with handshake deals... there are no guarantees."

"You can't do this," Johnny said, his voice cracking in disbelief.

Kreese brushed past the students and stood face to face with his former student. "Of course I can. I founded Cobra Kai. It belongs to me. It always has—and it always will. I will never let my students lose, even if they have to learn the hard way." He leaned in. "One day, you'll thank me for this, Johnny."

Johnny looked around the room again. The faces that once held admiration were now filled with cold defiance. His heart sank.

"This was a mistake," he said softly, stepping back. "You want Cobra Kai? It's yours." He turned and walked away without looking back.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The sun was setting when Johnny arrived at the beach. He parked by the shoreline, silence surrounding him except for the gentle crash of the waves. He sat on the hood of his car, a bottle of whiskey in one hand. He took a long swig, then stood and hurled the bottle at the side of the Charger. It shattered on impact.

Then he pulled out his phone, stared at it for a long moment, and with a grunt of frustration, chucked it into the ocean.

As he stood there, defeated, he heard the familiar hum of an engine pulling into the lot. Missie's Audi rolled to a stop, and she stepped out.

"Hey," she said gently. "I'm so sorry."

Johnny didn't turn right away. "I thought you had to go to New York with the girls," he said quietly.

"I'm taking the next flight out," she replied, walking toward him. "I wanted to see how you were holding up. I know your heart was in the right place."

He finally looked at her, his eyes rimmed with red. "I was trying to teach them to show mercy," he murmured. "And it blew up in my face."

Missie walked the rest of the way and wrapped her arms around him. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled her tightly into his chest, his shoulders trembling as he cried.

She held him firmly. "Don't worry, Johnny," she whispered. "It's gonna be okay."

"I don't even know who I am anymore," Johnny said finally, his voice rough and hollow. "I tried to do the right thing. I thought if I showed them a better way, things would change. But it all just... fell apart."

Missie pulled back slightly so she could look into his eyes, her hands resting on his shoulders. "Johnny, you are changing things. It just doesn't happen all at once."

Johnny looked down, eyes filled with pain. "I lost everything today."

"No," Missie said firmly, shaking her head. "You didn't lose everything."

"I lost the dojo, Miguel's in a coma, and Robby's on the run." Johnny said. "The kids. They all turned on me. And I don't blame them."

Missie reached up and cupped his face, her thumb brushing away the tear that slid down his cheek. "You didn't lose me," she said, her voice breaking just slightly. "You've never lost me, Johnny."

Johnny swallowed hard, staring at her like he couldn't quite believe she was real. "Why are you still here?" he asked, barely above a whisper.

"Because I see you," Missie said, tears in her own eyes now. "Not the screw-up. Not the fighter. You. The one who tried to teach kids not to be like him. The one who's still standing even when everything inside him is falling apart." she stepped closer again and rested her forehead against his. "You've got a good heart, Johnny. You just don't know how to stop punishing yourself long enough to feel it."

Johnny closed his eyes, and for a moment, everything else fell away—the dojo, the fight, Kreese, the crushing weight of failure. All that remained was her. Her warmth. Her voice. Her being there. His arms wrapped around her again, this time slower, deeper. He held her like she was the only solid thing in a world he no longer trusted.

And for the first time in a long time, Johnny Lawrence cried—not from anger or regret, but from the overwhelming, aching relief of not being alone.