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"𝐇𝐎𝐖 about Johnny Lawrence Karate?" August suggested as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, twisting off the cap. "Or even Strike First Karate?"

Johnny sat hunched at the table, eyes glued to the laptop screen while chewing on a Slim Jim. He didn't even glance up.

"Sensei, c'mon," August pressed, dropping into the chair across from him. "I'm trying to help you think of names for our new dojo."

Johnny finally tore his eyes off the screen, frowning. "How long does it take for Facebook messages to get delivered? Ali lives in Colorado, so... probably a while, right?"

"It's instantaneous," August said flatly.

Johnny let out a long sigh, slamming the laptop shut. "What about All American Karate?"

"It's not good enough. We need something that tells everyone we're the most badass dojo in the valley," Johnny said, tossing the Slim Jim wrapper aside.

"Yeah, sucks that Cobra Kai is such a badass name," August admitted.

Johnny smirked, leaning back in his chair. "What if we just keep that? Spell Cobra Kai with a K, they'll call us triple K."

"Wait, you mean like, KKK?" August gave him a hard look. "Yeah, not a good idea, sensei."

"All right, whatever. We'll figure it out," Johnny muttered. "First we need some students."

"It's my first day back at school today," August said, standing and slinging his backpack over one shoulder. "I could do some recruiting, but where are we gonna train?"

"You let me worry about that," Johnny said, brushing it off.

But August paused at the door, studying him. "Hey, is there something going on between you and my sister?"

Johnny froze for a beat, his jaw tightening. "What makes you think that?"

"Sensei, I'm not blind." August shrugged. "I see the way you two look at one another. Especially the way you look at her. I've only seen her look at one other guy the way she looks at you, and that's Paul Newman, when she would watch the movies with Grandma." He adjusted his backpack strap, smirking. "But whatever, it's none of my business. Good luck today, sensei."

Johnny didn't say a word—just watched the kid walk out. His tough-guy mask stayed on, but the second August's footsteps faded, his expression softened. The way Stella looked at him... hell, the way she made him feel—he knew August wasn't wrong. Not even close.

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The first spot Johnny checked out was a shiny gym with polished floors and a complimentary juice bar. He wandered through the space, blonde hair catching the light, sipping from a plastic cup of fresh juice.

"Place is turnkey," the landlord said, gesturing toward the amenities. "Got locker rooms over there, adjoining steam rooms, private showers. How are you liking that juice?"

"It's the best orange juice I've ever had," Johnny admitted.

"In-house juice bar. Your clients are gonna flip for it. I've got a few folks sniffing around, but you look like the kind of guy who knows a good deal when he sees it." The landlord smiled. "Shall we start the paperwork?"

"Who needs paperwork? I'll take it," Johnny said.

"We still need a contract, and we'll need to run your credit," the landlord replied.

"Yeah, I'd prefer you didn't," Johnny said flatly. "What do you say we skip all that crap and make a good ol'-fashioned handshake deal, like men?"

The landlord didn't bite. After being turned away at three other facilities, Johnny wound up at another spot—a run-down studio on the edge of town that looked more like a forgotten storage unit than a dojo.

"You said this is the fourth place you've seen today?" asked the man in overalls, clearly the landlord or owner.

"Yeah. Just trying to work within a budget," Johnny said.

"This place is as cheap as they come. I had to knock a couple hundred off because of the asbestos. They think they got it all," the landlord said.

Johnny looked around at the cracked walls and flickering lights. "Y'know, with a few coats of paint, a little elbow grease, I think I could make this work. How much do you want?"

"Three grand."

"Three grand?!" Johnny barked. "Are you serious? This place sucks. Where's the juice bar? Where's the steam room?"

"There was a vending machine down the hall, but some homeless guy crapped in it," the landlord deadpanned.

Johnny shook his head in disbelief. "I drove all the way down here thinking this place would be affordable."

"This is L.A., pal. You want a roof and four walls, it's gonna cost you," the landlord said.

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"Thought I might find you here."

Stella stepped out of her jeep at the Encino Hills lookout, the night air curling around her as she made her way toward Johnny. He was parked on the hood of his car, a six-pack beside him, staring out at the valley lights. She sat down next to him, close enough that their arms brushed.

"August told me about looking for a new dojo. How did it go?"

Johnny turned to her, the edge in his face softening instantly. "Hey, you," he said with a crooked smile, handing her a beer like it was second nature. "Well, after being turned down by several places, the only place I found was a park."

"Hey, that's a start." Stella smiled, popping the cap and taking a sip. "I know it's not exactly a roof and four walls, like you wanted, but it is a start. Have you thought a name?"

"Eagle Fang," Johnny said, dead serious.

Stella laughed, shaking her head. "Johnny, eagles don't have fangs." She took another swig of her beer.

"Yeah, but they can kill a snake," Johnny countered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You do have a point." Stella tilted her head at him, a fond smile tugging at her lips. "I never told you this, but I have a severe fear of snakes."

Johnny raised a brow. "But you're from Texas. Aren't there a ton of rattlesnakes and shit down there?" He finished off his beer in one long pull.

Stella rolled her eyes, sipping again. "Johnny, just because I'm from Texas doesn't mean I'm not afraid of snakes. Or rodents. Ugh." She shivered at the thought.

Johnny smirked, watching her with that rare softness in his eyes. "Well, luckily, Eagle Fang says we're the baddest dojo in the valley." He tossed the empty bottle aside and leaned back against the car. "Anyway, you'll be there tomorrow, right?"

"Of course I'll be there." Stella shifted closer, sliding easily into his lap as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Johnny's arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him, protective but tender. She didn't move away—she never did. Instead, she rested her head on his shoulder, the city lights flickering below them.

"You know I got you," she murmured.

Johnny pressed his cheek to her hair, holding her tighter. He didn't need to say it back—she already knew. But for once in his life, the badass karate sensei felt like he had something worth fighting for.

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The next day, Stella drove to the address Johnny had given her—a scrappy little park that looked more like a hangout than a dojo. Still, she smiled the second she saw him. He stood in front of a ragtag group—August, Bert, Mitch, and a few other familiar faces—radiating that same relentless confidence that had pulled her into his orbit in the first place.

She lingered off to the side, watching him with quiet pride. He looked alive, like this was what he was born for.

"This is day one," Johnny began, his voice carrying like a battle cry. "We've been here before. But things are different now. They tried to tear us down. It didn't work! They said we needed a roof and four walls. Screw that! This park... will be our new dojo. 'Cause you don't need a dojo to be a dojo! Is that understood?"

Stella couldn't help the proud little smile that tugged at her lips.

"Yes, Sensei!" the kids barked back in unison.

"I started Cobra Kai with one nerd," Johnny said, pointing to August. Stella shot him a sharp look, which he ignored with that infuriating grin. "This is a step up, and if we're gonna be taken seriously, we need a name that commands respect. A name that elicits power and dominance. Cobras are strong. They may be the king of the jungle, but the world is more than just a jungle. And there's only one animal... that can kill a snake."

"A mongoose?" Bert piped up.

"A real animal, Bert," Johnny deadpanned.

Stella rolled her eyes and let out a soft chuckle. Classic Johnny—equal parts brilliant and ridiculous. He strode over to a cardboard box and held up a shirt like it was sacred. "Welcome to Eagle Fang Karate."

"Uh, eagles don't have fangs—" Mitch started, but the shirt smacked him in the chest mid-sentence.

"Put it on," Johnny ordered.

He tossed shirts to the rest of the kids.

"Anyone else feeling a little snug?" Mitch muttered, tugging at the fabric that barely skimmed his stomach.

"Do some more sit-ups," Johnny shot back without missing a beat. Stella exchanged a look with August, both rolling their eyes.

"All right, everybody fall in!" Johnny barked, his voice full of pride and grit. The kids fell in line instantly.

Stella was about to tease him when something caught her eye—a flash of crimson against the green of the park. That mohawk was unmistakable. Her stomach dipped.

"Johnny," she murmured, her voice low.

Johnny turned. The second he saw who was approaching, his posture shifted—calm but coiled tight, like a predator ready to strike. "Still got it," he muttered with a dark chuckle. "All right, everybody. Looks like our class just got bigger. Make room."

Hawk smirked, but it was what followed that made Stella tense. Tory. Kyler. And then... Kreese.

The brunette instinctively moved closer to Johnny's side, her pulse kicking hard. His hand slid behind her back in a protective sweep before curling into hers, their fingers locking tight. He didn't even look down—just anchored her there like she belonged.

"I told you. Cobra Kai for life," Hawk spat.

Kreese stepped forward, slow and deliberate, peeling off his sunglasses like a villain in some old Western. His smile was all venom.

"Don't worry, Johnny," he said smoothly. "I'm not here for a fight."

"Yeah? Then why the hell are you here?" Johnny growled, voice like gravel. Stella stayed flush against his side, but his arm was solid at her back, his grip unyielding on her hand.

"Yeah, snakes don't belong in the park, you ancient asshole," Stella spat, fire in her tone.

Kreese's smirk widened. "You're feisty. I can see why Johnny likes you."

Johnny moved before the last word even landed—pushing Stella a fraction behind him, his body a wall of muscle and fury. He didn't look at her, but his stance said it all: Over my dead body.

"I'd like to make you another offer to come back to Cobra Kai where you belong," Kreese said, eyes on Johnny.

"You're crazy if you think I'm ever teaming up with you again," Johnny hissed. "The garbage you're feeding them, the shit they're pulling—it's messed up. And you're to blame for that."

"I have to disagree," Kreese sneered. "I care about my students. They're strong. True fighters. And they wouldn't make the mistake of showing mercy... or ending up in a coma."

August bristled, stepping forward, and Hawk mirrored him like a challenge. Johnny's arm shot out, steel-hard, stopping August cold. Kreese did the same to Hawk.

Johnny's hand found Stella's again, fingers tightening like iron. He didn't look at her, but she felt it—the silent promise, the tether pulling her close: I've got you.

"This is it, Johnny," Kreese said, voice low, dangerous. "There's not gonna be another chance."

"Good," Johnny hissed through gritted teeth, his glare sharp enough to cut steel.

"You made your choice. And you are gonna regret it," Kreese sneered before sliding his sunglasses back on and walking away, his army trailing behind.

Stella exhaled shakily as the tension bled from the air. But Johnny didn't let go of her hand. Not even when Kreese was nothing more than a dark speck in the distance.