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Marisol stood at the edge of the mat, her heart pounding in her chest. The air felt thick with anticipation, the crowd's roar reverberating through the arena like a distant storm. Cheers, chants, and whistles all blended into a blur, but Marisol barely registered the noise. Her focus was singular. This was the moment she had been waiting for-the championship match. The final fight. The defining moment.

And across the mat stood her opponent.

Zara Malik.

The name itself sent a ripple of tension through Marisol's body. Zara, the arrogant, manipulative, and self-obsessed girl who thought she was untouchable. She carried herself like a queen, sneering at her opponents as if they weren't worthy of sharing the same air. Zara, the girl who had taken advantage of Robby when he was drunk, only to turn around and act like it was some sort of victory.

Marisol's fingers curled into fists, her nails biting into her palms as her thoughts churned. Beating Zara wouldn't just be a victory-it would be a form of justice. It would be silencing her once and for all, showing her that there were consequences for the way she treated people. For all the ways she used others and got away with it.

The crowd's noise intensified, but Marisol shut it all out. Her breath came in steady, controlled inhales as she focused on the mat beneath her feet. Her gaze flickered around, searching for someone. She needed to see him. Her heart clenched at the thought, but she didn't let the nerves consume her.

She needed to see Eli.

If she could just catch a glimpse of him in the crowd-his familiar, reassuring presence-maybe she could settle the storm swirling inside her. Maybe she wouldn't feel like one misstep would send her spiraling out of control.

But before she could spot him, a firm nudge to her arm snapped her back to the present.

"Cervantes," came the gruff voice that cut through the noise like a lifeline.

Johnny Lawrence.

He stood next to her, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but the intensity in his voice clear. "Focus on what you need to do out there. Nothing else."

His tone was stern, but there was an undercurrent of encouragement, a reminder that this was what she'd trained for. She knew he understood the weight of this moment. He knew what it took to get here, to survive the battles that had led to this point.

Marisol swallowed, nodding quickly. She took a deep breath, her gaze snapping back to Zara, who stood across from her. Zara's face was smug, her eyes gleaming with self-satisfaction. She looked like she had already won, like the outcome was a foregone conclusion.

Not today.

Marisol didn't have time to dwell on it, though, because another presence stepped up beside her.

Miguel.

Her chest unclenched the moment she saw him. His familiar, warm smile grounded her, and for a second, the weight of the world seemed just a little lighter.

Johnny, however, wasn't done yet. His sharp gaze flicked between the two of them, scrutinizing their every move. "Both of you," he said, his voice firm. "Don't worry about the overall points. Just win the damn fight."

Marisol opened her mouth to respond, but Miguel beat her to it.

"No," he said, his voice low but fierce. "We're not letting Silver buy another title. Not today."

Marisol blinked, momentarily taken aback. She turned to him, meeting his gaze. Miguel's jaw was set, his eyes blazing with determination. "There's no way in hell we're letting that bastard win by cheating."

His words stoked a fire inside her, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. He was right. They'd worked too damn hard to get here to let Silver's corruption win. This wasn't just about the title. This was about proving that true skill-true karate-was stronger than money and manipulation.

"We can close the gap," she said, a spark of confidence lighting up in her chest.

Johnny raised an eyebrow, giving her an approving smirk. "Badass."

Just then, the announcer, Gunther, strode onto the mat, microphone in hand, and the energy in the arena shifted. All eyes were on him as he stood tall, his booming voice cutting through the excitement.

"Who's ready for some karate?" Gunther's voice rang out, and the crowd erupted into a deafening roar.

Marisol shook out her arms, her body buzzing with anticipation. Across from her, Zara stood tall, her expression one of smug superiority. She exuded confidence like it was her birthright, her posture practically daring Marisol to make the first move.

Not today.

Marisol's breath slowed, her focus sharpening. Gunther's voice came again, announcing the rules of the match.

"The championship finals will follow the same structure as our semifinals," he said. "Three rounds, two minutes each, with unlimited scoring. Knockdowns are worth ten points, and if a downed fighter cannot reengage within ten seconds, they will be considered knocked out, and their opponent will be awarded twenty points."

Marisol took a steadying breath. It was time. She didn't need to hear the rest of the rules. She was ready.

"And now," Gunther continued, "the final match to determine our female world champion. Please welcome to the mat, Marisol Cervantes of Cobra Kai and Zara Malik of The Iron Dragons!"

The crowd roared again, and the noise reached a fever pitch as both girls stepped forward, meeting at the center of the mat. The lights above burned hot, and the heat of the moment pressed down on her shoulders like a weight she had to carry. But she didn't falter. She didn't back down.

Her eyes locked with Zara's, and in that moment, everything else disappeared.

Zara smirked.

Marisol returned the look, a challenge burning in her eyes.

Marisol and Zara stepped onto the mat, the weight of the moment settling heavily between them. The crowd's cheers seemed to fall away, swallowed by the pounding beat of Marisol's heart, and the electric tension between the two girls hung in the air like a storm about to break. The floor beneath them almost seemed to quiver in anticipation.

Zara, as always, exuded an air of smug confidence. She bowed with an exaggerated grace, her movement precise and deliberate, as though she was performing for an audience that adored her every step. It was a bow that could have been interpreted as respectful-if you didn't know the kind of person Zara really was. But Marisol did. It wasn't respect that Zara was showing. It was a calculated show of dominance, a subtle reminder that, in her eyes, she was untouchable, even before the fight had begun.

Marisol stood her ground, her posture straight and unyielding. She didn't bow. There would be no false gestures of courtesy. She locked eyes with Zara, her gaze steely and unbroken. She wasn't here to play Zara's games. Not after everything that had happened. Not after how Zara had tried to tear her life apart.

Zara didn't miss a beat. Her smile remained, flawless and mocking, as she stepped closer, her voice sugary sweet, like a venomous snake in disguise. "Just wanted to thank your friend, Tory," Zara said, the words oozing with spite. "That little stunt she pulled on my social media back in Spain. Played the slut-shaming card, doubled my followers."

She paused, enjoying the discomfort she knew her words would provoke. Marisol clenched her fists at her sides, her nails biting into her palms. Zara always knew exactly how to twist the knife.

Marisol's lips curled into a mocking smile. "What an achievement," she replied, the sarcasm thick in her voice, her words dripping with disdain.

Zara's expression faltered for just a moment, her eyes narrowing with irritation, but she quickly masked it with a smug smirk. She leaned in closer, as if sharing some twisted secret just between the two of them, her voice dropping to a stage whisper meant to be heard only by Marisol. "You can play it cool all you want, but we both know it eats you up inside that, no matter what happens, everyone still loves me," Zara said, her smile widening with satisfaction. "And they'll never love you."

Those words landed like a punch in Marisol's gut. The truth of them cut deep, but only for a second. Zara had a talent for getting under people's skin, and she'd spent far too long making Marisol feel small and insignificant. But this time, Marisol wouldn't let her win.

She inhaled slowly, her gaze hardening, her voice dropping to a low, deadly tone. "You took advantage of her boyfriend, bitch," she spat, each word a razor-sharp edge. "You're going to regret it."

For the first time, there was a flicker of hesitation in Zara's expression. Her eyes darted away, just for a split second, a tiny crack in her armor. Marisol saw it and savored the moment. It was a small victory, but it felt like the world had shifted, just a little. She wasn't the victim here. Not anymore.

Before anything else could be said, the referee stepped in between them, his sharp whistle slicing through the air, bringing them both back to the present. His voice was firm, professional, and without hesitation. "Girls, take your places," he commanded, his authority leaving no room for argument.

Marisol's heart pounded in her chest, every muscle in her body tensed with the electric surge of adrenaline. She knew what this fight meant. This wasn't just about the championship. This was about something far deeper. It was about proving to herself, to everyone, that she could stand up to Zara and win. That she wasn't going to let Zara walk all over her anymore.

She took her place at the edge of the mat, her stance solid and unwavering. Across from her, Zara stood tall, her arrogant smile still plastered across her face, but Marisol could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

The referee's voice broke through the tension again. "The match will consist of three rounds, two minutes each, with unlimited scoring. Knockdowns are worth ten points. If a downed fighter cannot reengage within ten seconds, they will be considered knocked out, and their opponent will be awarded twenty points."

Marisol's mind sharpened, every detail of the rules, every movement, every breath. She could do this. She would do this.

As the referee's whistle blew to signal the start of the match, Marisol focused on nothing but the fight ahead of her. The noise of the crowd faded. The world outside of the mat vanished. All that mattered was her opponent. And right now, her opponent was Zara Malik.

The fight for everything was about to begin.

The bell rang, and the first round of the fight officially began. The atmosphere in the gym was thick with tension. The roar of the crowd, while present, felt distant to Marisol. All that mattered now was Zara standing across from her on the mat, that smug, self-assured look on her face as she adjusted her stance. The weight of the moment settled over her like a heavy cloak.

For a brief second, the crowd's energy seeped into her bones, and Marisol felt her heart race. But just as quickly, Zara's words, sharp and biting, echoed in her mind.

"Everyone still loves me, and they'll never love you."

Marisol tried to shake it off, forcing her body to focus on the fight, but it was as if the words were painted across her vision. Each breath felt heavier, weighed down by the malicious reminder. Every flicker of movement from Zara seemed amplified by the doubt creeping in, dragging at her concentration like a tugging anchor. Marisol fought against it, but the more she tried to push those thoughts aside, the louder they became.

Zara, the ever-confident and calculating opponent, made the first move. She advanced quickly, her footwork sharp as she closed the distance between them. Her movements were fluid, almost predatory. She threw a sharp jab at Marisol's face, testing her defenses. Marisol leaned back instinctively, narrowly dodging the punch, but she was off-balance, her feet not planted firmly. The hesitation caused by her racing mind had slowed her reflexes.

"Come on, don't let her get in your head," Marisol muttered to herself under her breath, but her voice seemed drowned out by the roar of her own thoughts.

Zara smirked, sensing Marisol's uncertainty, and pressed forward, her movements quick and precise. She aimed a low kick toward Marisol's knee, a tactic designed to throw her off even more. The impact jarred Marisol's leg, but she managed to stay standing, her body wobbling for a split second before she regained her balance.

Focus, Marisol told herself, trying to shut out the mental noise. But Zara wasn't giving her any room to breathe.

Zara's grin widened, like a predator who had already tasted victory in her mind. With a swift step forward, Zara lunged, aiming a vicious left hook toward Marisol's temple. This time, Marisol wasn't quick enough. She raised her arm in defense, but the punch still landed, grazing her cheek and snapping her head to the side.

Pain shot through her skull, blurring her vision momentarily, and it was as if the entire gym's energy shifted with it. Her legs felt unsteady. Marisol's breath came in uneven bursts, the sting of her cheek still radiating through her, but it wasn't just the physical pain that rattled her-it was the way Zara's words replayed in her mind, louder than the cheers or the counting of the referee.

"No matter what happens, everyone loves me... they'll never love you."

She had to shake it. She couldn't let Zara get the upper hand, couldn't let her words worm their way into her actions.

Zara, seeing the crack in Marisol's focus, lunged again, this time targeting her midsection with a quick jab. Marisol's reflexes were sluggish as the punch connected, pushing the wind out of her lungs. The blood in her nose pulsed with each movement, but she gritted her teeth, refusing to give Zara the satisfaction of seeing her falter completely.

And then, it came. Zara, taking advantage of Marisol's weakened state, aimed a right hook, her fist connecting with Marisol's nose with a sickening crunch. The impact was brutal, sending a shockwave of pain through Marisol's face. A sharp gasp of air escaped her lips as the taste of blood filled her mouth. She felt the rush of liquid as her nose began to bleed, the warmth of it running down to her chin. It was a clean hit, the kind that could knock anyone off their feet.

The referee immediately stepped in, his whistle cutting through the air like a blade. "One... two... three..." The count began, but Marisol could barely focus on the numbers. Her hands instinctively went to her nose, trying to stem the flow of blood, but the reality of the hit was undeniable.

Zara stood across from her, eyes glinting with cruel satisfaction. "You should have just stayed out of my way," Zara sneered, her voice dripping with mockery. She was enjoying this-every drop of blood, every second of Marisol's discomfort.

Marisol's mind swirled in chaos. She could hear her own breath, ragged and shallow. Focus, focus, she thought desperately. Her legs wobbled under her, but she steadied herself, refusing to show any more vulnerability. Not in front of Zara. Not now.

Johnny, sensing the shift in momentum, pushed through the crowd and made his way to Marisol's side, leaning in with urgency. "Marisol," he said firmly, gripping her shoulder with a commanding presence, "you've got this. Don't let her get inside your head. She's only winning if you let her."

Marisol's chest heaved with a deep breath, but she barely nodded, still dazed from the blow. The sting in her nose was intense, but the pressure to keep going, to not back down, pushed her forward. "I know... I know," she muttered, wiping her bloody nose with her sleeve.

But before she could compose herself fully, a familiar presence appeared at her side. Marisol turned her head, surprised to find Sam standing there. Sam's eyes softened as she reached out, her hand gently resting on Marisol's arm. Then, without warning, Sam leaned in and kissed her. The crowd's noise seemed to disappear, the world shrinking down to the moment Sam's lips touched hers. It was tender, soft, a small yet powerful reminder that she wasn't in this fight alone.

When they pulled apart, Sam's gaze met hers with unwavering love and determination. "I still love you," Sam said, her voice gentle yet full of conviction, as though to erase the doubts Zara had planted in Marisol's mind.

Marisol froze for a moment, her body tensing, unsure of what to say. The words were so unexpected, so comforting, yet powerful. She hadn't realized how much she needed to hear them. The world around her seemed to slow as Sam's words sank in, her breath steadying, her pulse calming.

Sam didn't let her stay frozen for long. "Go out there and kick her ass," she said, a smile creeping onto her face. It was confident, determined, like she had no doubt in Marisol's abilities.

The blood from Marisol's nose was still dripping, but her focus had shifted. She felt a fire inside her stir-a fire fueled by Sam's love and her own resolve. This wasn't just about a fight anymore. This was about proving something bigger: that she wouldn't let Zara's words define her. She wouldn't let anyone diminish who she was.

A grin spread across Marisol's face as she met Sam's eyes, her heart pounding. "Girlfriends?" she asked teasingly, her voice light but confident.

Sam laughed softly, nodding. "Girlfriends," she affirmed, pulling Marisol into a brief, yet meaningful hug. The moment felt like everything she needed-more than she had ever realized.

As Marisol broke away from Sam, her confidence returned in full force. She turned toward Zara, wiping the last traces of blood from her nose, eyes sharp and focused. The first round wasn't over yet. And Zara had just made the biggest mistake of underestimating her.

On the sidelines, Axel and Eli exchanged a look, both unable to mask the jealousy simmering in their expressions. Axel clenched his jaw, watching the exchange between Sam and Marisol with irritation, while Eli's gaze was more conflicted. Watching Sam and Marisol together made him feel something he couldn't place-resentment, longing, or something else. It didn't matter. Marisol was about to show Zara just what she was capable of.

Marisol cracked her knuckles and stepped back into the center of the mat, ready for the second round. Zara's grin faltered as she saw the fire rekindled in Marisol's eyes. This wasn't over-not by a long shot.

The bell rang, signaling the start of the second round, and Marisol's body was now a force of focused energy. Every motion, every breath, was powered by the resolve she had found in Sam's kiss and words. She was no longer the girl on the defensive, hesitant and distracted by Zara's mind games. Instead, she was the fighter she had always been-the one who would fight with everything she had, not just for herself, but for the love and support surrounding her.

Zara, seeing the change in Marisol's demeanor, began to pace back, eyes narrowing as she adjusted her stance. But Marisol wasn't giving her any time to think. She advanced, her movements sharp and aggressive. Her confidence surged with every strike. She wasn't just throwing punches anymore; she was throwing everything she had, her fists cutting through the air like lightning.

Zara attempted to block, but Marisol's quick footwork kept her on edge, unable to find a solid counter. Marisol feinted to the left and then spun, sending a brutal roundhouse kick into Zara's midsection. The force of the hit knocked Zara back a step, and Marisol followed with a sharp jab to the jaw, the impact reverberating through her body. Zara staggered, clearly shaken for the first time in the match.

The crowd began to murmur, the energy in the gym swelling as they recognized the shift. Marisol's movements were relentless now-precise and powerful, every strike showing the culmination of her training and her newfound confidence. Zara, for all her arrogance, was starting to look like the underdog. Marisol could feel it. She was in control now, and she wasn't going to let Zara take it back.

Marisol threw a flurry of punches, each one landing with a satisfying thud. Zara tried to block, but the force of Marisol's onslaught wore her down. With a final, swift uppercut, Marisol sent Zara crashing to the mat, gasping for air. The referee stepped in immediately, raising his hand in victory.

"Marisol is the winner!" he announced, and the gym erupted into cheers. Marisol stood tall, breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling, the weight of the fight still settling over her. But there was a sense of clarity now-a sense of victory that rang louder than the cheers in the room.

As soon as the match was called, Sam's voice rang out over the crowd. "You did it!" she shouted, her face glowing with pride. Sam dashed onto the mat, her arms outstretched, and Marisol didn't hesitate for a second. She met Sam halfway, pulling her into a tight, ecstatic hug. The two of them stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the weight of the victory not just in the championship but in the moment they shared.

"I knew you could do it," Sam whispered into Marisol's ear, her voice full of pride and love. Marisol pulled back slightly, her smile wide, but her eyes filled with emotion.

Just as they were still taking in the moment, Eli approached, his eyes bright with admiration-but there was something else there, something a little unsure. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hug?" he asked, his tone light, but there was an unspoken layer to it, a mix of pride and maybe even a little awkwardness at seeing the connection between Marisol and Sam.

Marisol chuckled, the tension from the match finally melting away. "Sure," she said, pulling Eli into a warm, friendly hug. As they embraced, she whispered, "Let's talk in a second, okay?" Eli nodded, a small smile forming on his lips as they pulled apart.

Marisol turned, still catching her breath, when a familiar voice broke through the buzz of the crowd. Her little sister, Mila, was walking toward her, her face lit up with a mixture of excitement and curiosity.

"So, you and Sam?" Mila asked, raising an eyebrow, as if the answer was already written in the air between them.

Marisol couldn't help but grin, her heart full of pride not just for herself, but for how far she'd come. "Yeah," she said softly, her voice full of certainty. "We're together."

Mila's smile widened, her expression pure and genuine. "Good," she said, nodding with approval. "I'm happy for you."

Marisol laughed, her chest swelling with warmth. She pulled her little sister into a quick hug, squeezing her tightly. "Thanks, Mila. That means everything to me."

As they pulled apart, Marisol looked out at the crowd, her gaze landing on the Sekai Taikai trophy-the ultimate prize in her sport. This wasn't just a win for her; it was a win for everything that had led her here. For all the challenges, the struggles, and the people who had believed in her.

Sam was standing beside her, watching her with admiration. Marisol felt the rush of accomplishment, but even more so, she felt the weight of all the support she'd had along the way. From Johnny's encouragement to Eli's steady presence, and from Mila's unconditional love to Sam's unwavering faith in her.

Today, she wasn't just a champion in the ring. She was a champion in her life, and nothing-nothing at all-could take that from her.

The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the gym as Marisol walked toward the far side of the training area. She spotted Eli leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He had been quieter than usual since the match, his eyes flicking over to her whenever he thought she wasn't looking.

Marisol took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before she approached him. She had been putting this conversation off for a while, but it was time to clear the air. She couldn't move forward if things were left unresolved between them.

"Eli," she began softly, her voice steady but tinged with regret. "Can we talk?"

Eli's gaze shifted toward her, and for a moment, he just looked at her-his eyes searching hers, maybe looking for something he hadn't found yet. He sighed and nodded. "Yeah, we should talk."

They moved to a quieter corner of the gym, where the echoes of the earlier matches had faded, and the noise of the crowd was only a distant hum. Marisol leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, as she met his eyes.

"I just want to say... I'm sorry," she started, her voice soft but firm. "I know I moved on with Axel pretty quickly after we broke up, and I didn't give you the space or respect you deserved in that moment." She paused, her lips curling into a sad smile. "It wasn't fair to you, and I regret it. I shouldn't have jumped into something else so fast, especially when I hadn't figured out what I wanted."

Eli looked down at the floor, his jaw tightening, clearly wrestling with his own thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, edged with an unspoken weight. "I'm sorry too, Marisol," he said, his eyes meeting hers once more, raw and sincere. "For always... fucking things up between us. I know I wasn't the easiest person to be around. I made things more complicated than they needed to be, and I'm sorry for that."

Marisol's heart softened at his words. Eli had always been impulsive, a little reckless with his emotions, but hearing him acknowledge it-hearing him take responsibility-felt like a step toward healing, not just for her, but for both of them.

"I don't want to keep hurting you, Eli," she said quietly. "I think we're better off as friends. We've been through a lot together, and maybe we just... can't go back to what we were. But that doesn't mean we can't move forward and still have each other's backs."

Eli's eyes softened at her words. He let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. You're right," he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "We're better off as friends. I think we always were."

Marisol felt a sense of relief wash over her, the weight she hadn't realized she was carrying lifting just a little. They had both made mistakes, but they were both mature enough now to see the truth-that their relationship wasn't meant to be anything more than a friendship.

"I'm glad we can agree on that," Marisol said, her voice light but sincere. "I've always valued our friendship, Eli. I don't want to lose that."

Eli nodded, his expression relaxed now, a weight seeming to lift off his shoulders. "Yeah, me too. Friends, huh?"

"Yeah," she grinned, nudging him with her shoulder. "Just friends."

They shared a quiet moment, the tension between them dissipating, replaced by a mutual understanding that came with time and growth. Eli gave her a small, knowing smile, and Marisol smiled back, feeling a sense of finality that she hadn't felt before. There was no more awkwardness, no more unresolved emotions hanging over them. They had both moved on, in their own ways, and now they could move forward with a clean slate.

As they stood there, the sound of footsteps approaching broke the silence. Marisol turned and saw Sam walking toward them, her eyes bright as she caught sight of Marisol.

"Everything good?" Sam asked, a gentle smile on her face.

Marisol nodded, her heart swelling as she looked at Sam-her girlfriend. "Yeah, everything's fine. We're just... better off as friends."

Eli shot them both a quick, playful wink. "Yeah, well, I'm good with that. You two have fun, okay?" He turned, heading toward the gym exit with a lighthearted wave. "Catch you later."

Marisol laughed, watching him leave before turning to Sam, her smile widening. "Thanks for being here for me, Sam," she said, her voice full of gratitude. "I think we're really starting to figure things out, you know?"

Sam reached out, pulling her into a warm embrace. "Always," she whispered into Marisol's hair, holding her close. "I'm proud of you, Marisol. You've come so far, and I'm lucky to be here with you."

Marisol smiled, feeling completely at peace for the first time in a long while. Everything was falling into place.

The tension in the arena was palpable as Marisol stood beside Miguel on the sidelines, her heart pounding in sync with the excitement thrumming through the crowd. The air smelled of sweat, determination, and the faint lingering scent of the mats. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on them, but Miguel stood tall, his jaw set with focus.

Gunther stepped forward, microphone in hand, his voice booming across the arena. "Now, for our final match of this year's Sekai Taikai!"

The crowd erupted into cheers, the applause echoing off the high ceilings of the venue. Marisol's fingers curled into fists at her sides as anticipation coiled tightly in her chest.

"Representing the Iron Dragons, Axel Kovačević!" Gunther announced.

Axel stepped forward, rolling his shoulders back, his face an unreadable mask of confidence. Alessia noticed Axel look over at Sam who sat in the audience.

"And representing Cobra Kai, Miguel Diaz!"

The cheers grew even louder. Miguel inhaled deeply, rolling out his wrists as he prepared to step onto the mat.

Johnny turned to his student, gripping his shoulder. "This is what it's all about," he said, his voice firm but proud. "Savor the moment." He paused before smirking slightly. "And knock his block off."

Marisol snickered, nudging Miguel playfully as he smirked at Johnny's words. "That's the plan," Miguel said, exhaling and shaking out any lingering tension.

Gunther's voice rang out again, bringing the arena to focused silence. "Would the fighters please come to the mat."

Miguel and Axel strode forward, both exuding confidence as they met at the center. They bowed to each other with sharp precision before bowing to the referee. The moment their eyes locked, Alessia could feel the intensity between them. This was going to be a fight to remember.

She bit her lip nervously.

The referee raised his hand. "Fight!"

The fight was on.

Miguel struck first, executing a swift twist kick, but Axel dodged smoothly, pivoting just out of reach. Marisol barely had time to register that movement before Axel retaliated with a sharp kick, aiming for Miguel's side. Miguel reacted instantly, pushing Axel's foot down and countering with a solid punch to his gut.

"Point!" the referee called out.

"Yes, Miguel!" Marisol cheered, her voice cutting through the noise. "Beat his ass!"

"Nice, Diaz!" Johnny bellowed from the sidelines.

Miguel wasted no time, leaping into the air with a powerful aerial kick, but Axel raised his arm, blocking it just in time. Miguel twisted, his body moving fluidly as he aimed a quick strike, but Axel dodged, maneuvering around him. Miguel attempted to sweep Axel's legs, but Axel jumped effortlessly, landing with catlike grace.

Miguel sprang up just as fast, lunging forward with a punch, but Axel anticipated it-grabbing Miguel's wrist mid-motion. Before Axel could follow up, Miguel twisted out of the hold and, mid-spin, landed a punch directly to Axel's stomach.

"Yes!" Marisol shouted, her hands gripping the barricade in excitement.

"Point!"

Axel's jaw tightened as he threw a quick fist, but Miguel blocked it with smooth precision. Axel tried again, this time catching Miguel's wrist and pulling him in close, his other hand reeling back for a punch. Miguel dodged just in time, mirroring the move by grabbing Axel's wrist in return. They struggled for control for a brief moment, their muscles tensed, before Miguel wrenched free and ducked under an incoming kick.

Marisol bit her nails anxiously as she watched, eyes flicking between their movements, her pulse thrumming wildly.

Miguel launched a flurry of punches, but Axel blocked each one with expert precision. Then, in a quick shift of strategy, Miguel aimed lower, kicking Axel's groin. Axel stumbled back, gritting his teeth before countering with a rapid-fire set of punches.

Miguel blocked-once, twice, three times-moving swiftly, never letting Axel break through.

Then Axel grabbed Miguel's arm, spun him around, and attempted to trap him in a hold, but Miguel reacted instantly, driving his elbow into Axel's ribs.

Marisol's breath caught in her throat, shoulders tense-until Miguel yanked free and delivered another sharp elbow strike to Axel's stomach.

"Point!"

Axel barely had time to react before Miguel moved with lightning speed, delivering a roundhouse kick directly to Axel's chest.

"Point!"

Belle's grin stretched from ear to ear.

Axel scowled, swinging his leg, but Miguel dodged with ease. He tried again, aiming higher, but Miguel ducked cleanly under it. The frustration was evident on Axel's face as he swung again, this time aiming for Miguel's head.

Miguel blocked it with sharp reflexes, ducked low, and then countered with a fierce kick-landing it right to Axel's face.

"Point!"

Marisol screamed in victory. "Hell yeah!"

The referee raised his hand, signaling the end of the first round.

Round one is over.

Miguel turned, his chest rising and falling heavily, sweat trickling down his temple, but his face was lit with pure adrenaline. Alessia rushed forward as he stepped off the mat, immediately raising her hand for a high five. Miguel smacked his palm against hers, both of them grinning.

"Holy shit, Diaz. You're on fire," Johnny said, shaking his head in approval.

Miguel only smirked, rolling out his shoulders as he took a sip of water. Round two was coming up, and he was ready.

"You did good out there, Mig." Marisol sent him a smile.

Round Two.

Miguel and Axel stepped onto the mat once more, sweat glistening on their skin under the bright lights. The crowd's energy pulsed around them, but to Miguel, it all faded into background noise. His focus was solely on the opponent in front of him. Axel stood tall, his stance solid and unyielding, his piercing blue eyes locked onto Miguel like a predator sizing up his prey.

The referee raised his hand. "Ready? Fight!"

Axel threw a fake punch, his fist jerking forward only to retract at the last second. Miguel dodged instinctively, barely flinching, recognizing the feint just in time. Without hesitation, he mirrored the move, faking a punch of his own, but Axel was just as quick, weaving out of range.

Miguel adjusted his footing, then launched a powerful kick, his foot colliding with Axel's ribs. Axel staggered back, his stance breaking for a split second. Seizing the opportunity, Miguel followed up with another kick, but this time, Axel was ready-grabbing Miguel's leg mid-air.

Marisol froze.

Her breath hitched as she clutched her hands together. She had seen this move before.

"Don't do it, please," she muttered under her breath, her world narrowing to the sight in front of her. The memory flashed through her mind like a lightning strike, the sickening crack of Kwon's death still fresh in her ears.

But when she looked back, Miguel had already reacted.

Instead of letting Axel take control, Miguel pushed off of Axel's grip, twisting mid-air to land safely on his feet.

Alessia exhaled sharply, relief washing over her.

Axel wasted no time. He lunged forward, throwing a sharp punch, but Miguel blocked it cleanly and swiftly maneuvered around him. However, Axel was prepared-he spun sharply and delivered a brutal kick straight to Miguel's chest.

Belle gasped as Miguel stumbled back, his breath knocked from his lungs.

"Point!" the referee called.

Miguel barely had a second to recover before Axel was on him again, their movements a blur of precise strikes and defensive blocks. Miguel managed to counter several of Axel's attacks, but then-Axel found his opening.

He grabbed Miguel's arm mid-punch and drove his fist into Miguel's stomach.

"Point!"

Miguel staggered, gripping his abdomen, but before he could reset, Axel's foot slammed into his side-then immediately followed with a harsh kick to his face.

"Point! Point!" the referee announced.

Double points.

Marisol's stomach twisted.

Axel was fighting dirty now.

Axel's movements became sharper, more aggressive. He wasn't just aiming to win-he wanted to hurt Miguel.

Axel somersaulted forward, aiming to strike Miguel mid-air, but Miguel barely managed to block it in time. He went for a counter punch, but Axel caught his wrist, spun around Miguel's body with terrifying agility, and landed a devastating kick to Miguel's chest.

"Point!"

Marisol clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she watched the scoreboard shift again.

Then, Axel let out a guttural yell-an aggressive, triumphant battle cry-and launched himself into a roundhouse spring kick, his foot colliding brutally with Miguel's face.

Miguel's head snapped back.

And then-he hit the mat.

Marisol's heart stopped.

Axel glanced at Marisol who glared.

The crowd erupted into a mixture of cheers and boos.

"Boo!" The Cobra Kai side chanted angrily.

Miguel lay on the mat, staring up at Axel in disbelief. He blinked, his breath heavy, his chest rising and falling as realization hit. Axel stood over him, his expression unreadable-but there was a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.

Marisol bit down on her nails so hard that she tasted blood.

Johnny tried to rush onto the mat, but Alessia and Sensei LaRusso held him back, their hands gripping his arms.

"Let me go! That little-" Johnny's voice was sharp, seething.

"Johnny, don't," Daniel warned, but his own jaw was clenched with tension.

The referee raised his hand. "Knockdown! Ten points!"

The arena erupted.

Miguel pushed himself up slowly, shaking the dizziness from his head. As soon as he got to his feet, Axel stepped forward, fist raised-ready to end it.

Axel's body froze mid-punch.

His head turned, and for the first time that night, he faltered.

He hesitated for just a second before staggering back toward his senseis, his breath heavy.

Marisol furrowed her brows, watching him carefully.

Why did he hesitate?

She shook the thought away and turned her attention back to the screen.

Iron Dragons 180 - Cobra Kai 160.

They were losing.

Marisol swallowed hard. Miguel was still in this fight. But after what just happened-she wasn't sure if she wanted him to be.

Miguel walked over to the sidelines, his jaw clenched, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Sweat dripped down his temple, but he barely noticed it-his entire body was burning with frustration, his fists still tight from the last exchange.

As soon as he reached the edge of the mat, Marisol was there.

She immediately placed a comforting hand on his back, running her palm up and down gently, but her touch wasn't just soft-it was grounding. It was real.

Miguel exhaled sharply through his nose, but he didn't say anything. His eyes, dark with frustration, flickered toward Axel, who stood across the mat, adjusting his gi with an irritating smirk. Marisol could see it, the way Miguel's entire posture tensed at the sight.

She didn't like it. Not one bit.

Miguel was better than this.

Marisol's lips pressed together before she turned to look at Robby.

Robby, who had been watching the entire match unfold, gripping his crutches as if he wanted to throw them across the room. The last time Axel fought, it ended with Robby like this.

But Robby just met Miguel's gaze-and there wasn't pity in his expression. Just something almost understanding.

"It's okay, man," Robby said, his voice steady.

Miguel didn't answer. He only inhaled deeply through his nose and turned away, heading straight for Johnny.

Marisol let him go.

She didn't follow, didn't try to eavesdrop. She knew this was a moment between Miguel and Johnny. Whatever Johnny said to Miguel needed to be just between them.

So, instead, Marisol took a step back, crossing her arms as she kept her eyes on Miguel.

Marisol glanced at Robby.

"He'll be okay, Mars." Robby re-assured her.

All Marisol could do was nod and look back at Miguel.

She watched as Johnny spoke low and firm, his hands on Miguel's shoulders, shaking him slightly, forcing him to focus. Miguel's head dropped slightly, his lips pursed, but after a few seconds-he nodded.

Then, Johnny reached into his pocket.

Marisol's heart clenched when she saw it.

The black headband.

Johnny moved forward, tying it around Miguel's head carefully, as if sealing a promise.

Miguel closed his eyes for a brief moment, inhaling deeply-then, when he opened them, there was clarity. Purpose.

Marisol felt a flicker of warmth in her chest.

Miguel turned back toward the mat, stepping forward, his movements sharp, calculated.

Round Three. The Final Round.

Marisol's hands clapped together as she cupped them around her mouth.

"Let's go, Mig!" she yelled, her voice ringing through the arena. "Beat his ass!"

Then-

"Kick his ass, Miggy!"

The entire crowd stood up in a roar of cheers as Miguel's Yaya shouted in Spanish at the top of her lungs, her voice piercing through every other sound in the arena.

Marisol let out a small laugh, shaking her head. She should've expected that.

Miguel's lips twitched upward.

And then-he stepped onto the mat.

Axel strode onto the mat, rolling his shoulders, the intensity in his gaze matching the fire burning in Miguel's. The crowd fell silent for a moment, anticipation thick in the air. This was it. The final round.

Miguel bounced lightly on his toes, his muscles coiled, his breathing steady. Across from him, Axel smirked. Then-

"Fight!"

Axel wasted no time.

He launched himself forward with a high kick, slicing through the air with precision-but Miguel dodged it effortlessly, shifting his weight at the last second.

Axel snarled and spun into a high roundhouse kick. Miguel ducked just in time, feeling the rush of wind as the kick barely missed him.

Miguel's reflexes were sharp, instinct taking over as Axel went for a rapid series of punches. One. Two. Three. Miguel blocked each one with perfect form, his arms moving with fluidity, his stance solid.

Then, Axel threw a wild punch.

Miguel saw it coming. He caught both of Axel's wrists, stopping him mid-motion.

And then-BAM! Miguel drove his fist straight into Axel's nose with a brutal, clean strike.

Axel's head snapped back. Blood dripped down from his nostrils.

"Point!" the ref announced.

"YES!" Marisol laughed and screamed, her hands cupped around her mouth as she jumped in excitement.

Axel staggered, his face twisted in anger, but Miguel didn't let up.

Miguel threw a hard kick at Axel's midsection. Axel tried to dodge, but Miguel's foot slammed into his gut.

"Point!"

Axel stumbled back, breath hitching as he clutched his stomach.

But Miguel wasn't done.

Axel retaliated with a flurry of punches, wild, aggressive, desperate. Miguel dodged smoothly, weaving past every hit. His movements were calculated, precise.

Then Miguel swiftly pivoted, striking out with a lightning-fast kick to Axel's shoulder.

"Point!"

Marisol's heart pounded. Miguel was in the zone.

Miguel bounced on his toes, his focus sharp, his body moving like a machine built for this moment.

Axel, however, wasn't happy. He threw a quick glance toward Sam.

Miguel saw it.

His jaw clenched. No. He wasn't letting Axel use her as motivation.

Axel suddenly dropped low, sweeping his leg toward Miguel's ankles, but Miguel-graceful as ever-executed a flawless aerial flip, avoiding the sweep entirely.

And then, mid-air-Miguel lashed out with a punch, landing it directly on Axel's jaw as he came back down.

"Point!"

Marisol clutched her chest, barely able to breathe.

She glanced at Robby and he had the same look.

Axel wiped the blood from his nose and shook his head, irritation flaring in his eyes. He exhaled sharply, resetting his stance.

And then-he charged.

Miguel sidestepped him with ease. A quick turn, a sharp kick. Axel faltered.

They exchanged blows in rapid succession, both blocking, both attacking. Axel was fighting dirty, aggressive, ruthless.

Miguel was fighting smart.

Finally, Miguel found his opening.

CRACK.

Miguel's foot collided with Axel's face.

"Point!"

Marisol froze.

Two more points and Miguel would win.

Miguel exhaled, sweat trickling down his temple. He could feel it now. The energy of the crowd, the adrenaline in his veins.

Axel lunged forward, throwing everything at Miguel-punches, kicks, sweeps. Miguel dodged and blocked, countering when he could.

Then Miguel snatched Axel's arm, spun him around, and drove his fist into Axel's side.

"Point!"

One more.

Miguel could hear the roaring of the crowd, but he only focused on Axel.

Axel, fueled by frustration, came at him again-but Miguel was faster.

With one swift motion, Miguel grabbed Axel, yanked him down, and slammed him onto the mat.

A collective gasp rippled through the arena.

Axel gritted his teeth, pushing himself up.

Miguel jumped over him, already in position, his body moving like an extension of his instincts. He launched forward, aiming a powerful kick-

Axel blocked it.

They exchanged blows, dodges, near-misses.

Then-it happened.

Miguel dropped low, balanced on one hand, and launched himself forward like Spider-Man.

With a ferocious yell, Miguel sprang into the air, his leg snapping forward-

A final, brutal kick to Axel's face.

Axel's body jerked backward.

The buzzer went off.

The arena erupted.

Marisol's breath hitched.

Miguel's chest rose and fell heavily. He stood there for a moment, processing it, his body trembling from the intensity of the fight.

And then-he realized.

He won.

A shaky breath escaped his lips.

Before he could even move-Marisol was already running onto the mat.

"MIGUEL!"

Miguel barely had time to react before Marisol crashed into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Marisol hugged him tightly.

Then Miguel hugged Sam tightly next.

The crowd cheered even louder, and Miguel could hear his team, his family, his Senseis all shouting for him.

His championship.

Then his team rushed onto the mat, surrounding him, cheering, hugging him.

Johnny clapped his hands together, grinning proudly. Sensei LaRusso nodded in approval.

Miguel turned to Marisol, and together, they lifted their trophies high.

Male Champion. Female Champion.

Marisol and Miguel.

They had done it.

Tomorrow was the Senseis fight and would determine the overall dojo winner.

ASH SPEAKS!!!

so if you see anything like arizona or clementine or a wrong name... i copied the fighting scenes from jealousy jealousy and cinnamon girl and my other books and changed it a bit😭😭

anyways this chapter sucks and at this point im half-ass writing this book. its so messy and everywhere. trust ill do better in the rewrite😭

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i'm sorry for all the notifications but 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 but votes are not... its hard for my motivation!