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𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐉𝐎 Johnny stood in front of August and Stella, the three of them staring at one another until August finally broke it.

"So are we going to get the karate pajamas too?"

"QUIET!" Johnny barked, his voice echoing off the bare walls. The Walker siblings flinched. "The student only speaks when spoken to, is that understood?"

"Yes sir." August replied respectfully. Nathan and Ava always taught their children to treat everyone with respect.

"Always address me as sensei. Is that understood?" Johnny demanded.

"Yes, sensei," August and Stella said together.

"These aren't pajamas. This is a gi. And you'll get one when you've earned it. Ready to begin your training?"

"Yes, sensei," they answered again, in perfect unison.

Without warning, Johnny lunged forward, grabbing August and flipping him to the mat in one smooth motion. Stella didn't know whether to stay where she was, or help her brother. She couldn't deny how incredibly hot Johnny was, being nonchalant about the whole ordeal, and that he put the cowboys back home to shame, with his muscles which had slightly softened, but were still toned, his tanned skin, his perfect locks of golden blonde hair. She had to ignore the feelings she felt.

"Lesson one. Strike first. Never wait for the enemy to attack," Johnny said, brushing himself off like it was nothing.

"You could have at least given me a warning," August groaned, and Stella rushed to his side.

"Quiet! We do not train to be merciful here. Mercy is for the weak. Here on the street, in competition, a man confronts you—he is the enemy. An enemy deserves no mercy." Johnny's voice was sharp, commanding.

But before he could finish, he noticed August sucking on an inhaler. His brows furrowed. "What is the problem, Mr. Walker?"

"What's the problem? Are you serious? You punched him, you dumbass. He has asthma." Stella snapped, rubbing her brother's back.

Johnny strode over, snatched the inhaler, and hurled it against the wall. It shattered. "Not anymore."

"You gonna buy a replacement?!" Stella shot back, fire in her voice.

"We do not allow weakness in this dojo. So you two can leave your asthma, peanut allergies, and all the made-up bullshit outside. Understood?"

"What the fuck? I'm a nursing student, and those are real medical problems that people actually have. Now maybe back in the late 1900's they didn't treat them, but—" Stella started hotly before August elbowed her side, sighing.

"Yes, sensei. Understood," he said quickly.

Johnny smirked. "Cobra Kai isn't just about karate. It's about a way of life. Take that first lesson. Striking first is the initial step toward victory. Like when you're at a party and you see a hot babe. You don't wait for another guy to talk to her first, do you?"

"I mean, I've never been to a party, so..." August muttered.

"Big surprise." Johnny rolled his eyes. Stella's lips twitched as he continued. "All right, look. Striking first is about being aggressive, all right? If you're not aggressive, you're being a pussy. And you don't wanna be a pussy—you wanna have balls."

"Don't you think you're doing a lot on genderizing?" August asked.

Johnny blinked. "What?"

"Oh, sorry—don't you think you're doing a lot of genderizing, sensei?" August corrected.

"No. I—what the hell are you talking about?" Johnny shot back.

"My guidance counselor says certain words perpetuate a sexist world view that can trigger—"

"Quiet! From now on you won't listen to your guidance counselor. You're gonna listen to me. Is that understood?" Johnny cut him off.

"Yes, sensei."

"Good. Now stop yapping like a little girl and give me fifty push-ups on your knuckles." Johnny turned to Stella. "Princess, give me fifty crunches."

"Uh, yeah okay." August said

Stella rolled her eyes at the nickname but dropped onto her back without a word. She began her crunches, movements sharp and practiced. Johnny meant to keep his focus on August, but his eyes betrayed him.

Her body was toned, her movements fluid, her lips parted just slightly with effort. Those lips—natural pink, perfect. For a moment, Johnny's tough exterior cracked, heat curling in his gut. She was gorgeous, and it rattled him more than he wanted to admit. He dragged his eyes away, forcing his attention back to August, who was already struggling.

"Okay, don't you have gym class or something?" Johnny snapped, covering the slip.

August groaned, collapsing flat on his back.

The bell above the door jingled. A man in a suit stepped in. "Howdy there, Mr. Lawrence?"

"It's sensei," August corrected automatically.

"August, shut up." Johnny muttered.

Stella stifled a laugh mid-crunch, and the sound went straight to Johnny's chest. He forced himself to ignore it as the man wandered the dojo.

"How are you so good at this, sis?" August asked, watching Stella knock out reps like it was nothing.

"This is how I used to pump myself up before every rodeo," she said between breaths. "Remember when Lori and Kara used to do jumping jacks instead?"

"You two are customers, here?" the man asked, gesturing to Stella and August.

"Oh no, that's just an illegal I picked up this morning. And that's my, uh, girlfriend. They're helping me set up," Johnny replied too quickly.

Stella froze mid-crunch, her eyes flicking to him in surprise. Heat pricked his neck, but he didn't backpedal. He met her gaze, something unspoken passing between them before she turned away, cheeks flushed.

The man shrugged. "I don't need to know all of that. My job is to make sure this place is up to code. You don't want a scabies outbreak like that hot yoga place over on Tujunga."

"Gross." Stella whispered

"Stella, I think sensei—" August began, but Johnny was already flipping through the inspection packet.

"Wait, wait. So, I have to do all this crap before I even open?" Johnny asked.

"No, you need to do all that to get the certificate that's required to get the insurance you need to open. But you knew that when you signed your lease, right?"

"Right, yeah," Johnny muttered.

"I'll stop by next week for another inspection," the man said, glancing at the poster on the wall. "Cool rattlesnake."

"It's a cobra," Johnny snapped.

"Oh right, duh. I'm such an idiot. Cobra Kay." The man chuckled before heading out.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The next day, August and Stella were already on their knees scrubbing the dojo mats when Johnny pushed through the door, juggling plastic bags from the mini-mart.

"Looking good. Make sure you get both sides. After you're done with that, you can take care of these exposed wires." Johnny grunted, heading toward the office.

Rolling her eyes, Stella shot back, "Okay, first of all, that's dangerous and a fire hazard. Secondly, we're not electricians. We can talk to our dad about hiring one. It would be safer."

"What does any of this have to do with karate, sensei?" August asked.

"Do not question my methods." Johnny cracked open a beer. "Just be thankful you're not a sumo wrestler. Those guys have to wipe their sensei's asses." He flicked the cap away.

"Okay, you'll have to show me how to do that." Stella teased, a quick smile breaking through. Johnny laughed, surprised at himself.

August, eager to change the subject, pulled open a box of old trophies. "So, I, uh, see you were a karate champion."

"I won a couple All Valley tournaments," Johnny said with a shrug. "Didn't lose a single point in my junior year."

"All right! What happened in your senior year?" August asked.

"This isn't twenty questions. Get back to scrubbing."

Before August could argue, his phone went off, blaring George Strait's Check Yes or No. Johnny looked around, confused. "Where's that garbage coming from? You hear that?"

Stella blinked at him. "You've never heard of George Strait?"

Johnny shook his head, and August picked up the call. "Hey, yeah. Sorry. I know. Stella's at Lori and Kara's and debate's running late. Uh, okay. Yeah, we love you too. Be safe. Okay, bye."

"So your dad's okay with this?" Johnny asked.

"Actually, I told him I joined the debate team, 'cause he doesn't approve of violence. He's the chief of police," August said.

"He's not kidding," Stella muttered, drying her hands on a towel.

Johnny took a long pull from his beer, then tossed out casually, "What about your mom? She okay with you getting your ass kicked up and down Reseda Boulevard? I'm sure she's real proud wherever she is."

The air changed. The Walker siblings exchanged a look, the room suddenly too still.

"She passed away over the summer," August said quietly.

Stella's jaw tightened as her eyes burned. She turned away quickly, dropping back to the mat, scrubbing harder than before. Her throat ached with the pressure of holding it all in. Ava's death was a wound that still gaped raw—every breath felt like salt against it. She wanted to scream, to collapse, but instead she kept moving, her hands trembling as she forced herself to keep working.

Johnny froze. The words had slipped out without thought, and now they sat between them like glass shards. He covered it up the only way he knew how. "Alright, well, stop standing there. Get back to training."

August nodded quickly and dropped beside his sister, but Stella was already blinking hard, her lashes wet.

"And change that ringtone," Johnny added, grasping for normalcy. "Get some Guns N' Roses or something."

"What's Guns N' Roses?" August asked, furrowing his brows.

Stella almost laughed through the ache in her chest. He really didn't know. She, on the other hand, had grown up with her mother's music—70's and 80s rock. It was her mother's voice she heard in those songs, her mother's hand tapping along the steering wheel. The memories hit like a knife.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that," Johnny muttered, retreating to the office.

Once he was gone, August glanced at his sister. "Hey, are you okay, sis?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Stella whispered, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. "Just missing Mom is all."

The tears wouldn't stop this time. August wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into his shoulder. She let herself lean against him, silent sobs shaking her chest as she whispered, "I just miss her so much, August. I just don't understand why it had to be her. She was so gentle."

From the office window, Johnny stood frozen. He'd only meant to grab another beer, but the sight of Stella undone—her head on her brother's shoulder, her face crumpling under the weight of grief—hit him harder than any tournament punch ever had. He could hear her muffled crying, and something inside him twisted.

He rubbed his hands hard over his face, muttering under his breath, "You're a dumbass, why can't you keep your mouth shut?"

Still, as he turned away, her voice stayed with him, raw and breaking. And for the first time in years, Johnny wished he knew how to take someone's pain away.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Stella sat curled up on the couch in the living room, her notes spread across the table, pen moving quickly as she studied. The apartment was unusually quiet—August and Nathan had gone school shopping and picked up dinner—so for once, she had the place to herself. Just as she finished scribbling down the last line, a sharp knock rattled the front door.

She blinked, set the pen aside, and padded barefoot across the carpet. Pulling open the door, she found Johnny standing there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, looking... oddly nervous.

"Oh, hi Johnny." The brunette's smile was soft, warm, though her eyes looked tired.

"Hi Stella." He cleared his throat. "I was wondering if you had a second to talk?"

Stella glanced back at the chaos of open textbooks and notebooks covering the table. Then she looked at him again, saw the hesitation he tried so hard to hide, and nodded. "Sure. Come on in."

Johnny stepped inside, his shoes heavy on the floor. He paused near the family photos on the wall, his bravado slipping for just a moment. He lingered on one of Stella on her horse, smiling under a wide Texas sky.

"You done admiring our photos, Lawrence?" Stella teased lightly as she moved toward the kitchen.

Johnny gave a short chuckle, trying to cover the tug in his chest. "I didn't realize you were into horses."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," Stella laughed. "Would you like something to drink? We have iced tea, water, coffee, juice... no beer, unfortunately."

"Whatever you have is fine."

Moments later, she returned with two glasses of iced tea. They sat side by side on the couch, the silence between them stretching, thick with something unspoken. Finally, Johnny broke it.

"Listen... I didn't know about your mom, Stella. I'm so sorry."

Feeling her heartache, and a lump form in her throat, her smile faltered, eyes glistening as she looked down at her glass. Her fingers trembled against the condensation before she set it on the table. "Yeah. Me too."

"You want to talk about her?"

Stella's throat tightened, but she nodded. Her voice was low, thick with emotion.

"What can you say about a wonderful mother like her, other than she had a gentle spirit, a radiant smile, and a captivating presence that caught the attention of everyone around her—including my father? She was a devoted, grounded, and nurturing mother to August and me, even though she was so active in the rodeo community." Stella's voice broke slightly. "I'm not just saying this because she was my mother, but she had the most exquisite face I've ever seen. She was gentle-hearted. And not only was she physically beautiful, but her heart, her soul, her kindness, her humanity—it was all just as beautiful as her exterior. She had this rare gift of making anybody—anybody—feel like they were the only person in the world who mattered. Even a beggar in the street."

Johnny sat still, fighting the urge to reach for her.

"When August and I were sick," Stella continued, voice trembling, "she made us tomato and rice soup, because that's what her mother made for her. Instead of a lullaby, she sang Hey Jude—it was her favorite Beatles song. For movie nights, she didn't put on movies. She put on Little House on the Prairie, because she adored Michael Landon. She was my safe place."

Johnny swallowed hard. "She sounds like an amazing mother. What happened to her, Stella?"

Her lips trembled. "Rodeo accident. She was barrel racing. When she was getting off her horse, it got spooked. It dragged her through the arena, slammed her into a gate. She went into a coma with a subdural hematoma. My dad... he made the decision to take her off the vent. It was the hardest thing he's ever had to do. Sometimes, I can still see the wind in her golden hair. She always told us life's about changing, that nothing ever stays the same, but—" Her voice cracked. "It still hurts so bad."

Johnny clenched his fists, his chest aching at her pain. For once, he didn't want to be the tough guy. He wanted to pull her into his arms, hold her, tell her it was going to be okay—even if he didn't know how.

"She's actually the one who loved 70s and 80s rock." Stella gave a watery smile. "Poison and Ratt were her favorites."

"Your mom had awesome music taste," Johnny said, smiling gently.

"Yeah. My dad would cringe every time we went on vacation and she put in her old high school cassettes. I loved them. My dad and brother though? They've always been George Jones and George Strait."

Johnny smirked. "And you? Are you a fan of this... Jones George?"

Stella laughed, radiant even through her grief. "You mean George Jones. Yes, actually, I am."

Johnny laughed, feeling something stir inside him he hadn't felt since he was a teenager—since Ali. Only this felt deeper, heavier.

"I have to ask," he said, clearing his throat, "where did you learn how to fight?"

"August and I are fifth-generation Texas ranchers. Growing up on the ranch, rodeoing around asshole cowboys... you learn how to defend yourself." She gave him a teasing smile. "Johnny, I'm only doing this for my brother. To be honest, I don't know if I even want to do it, since I'll be so busy with school."

"Yeah, I get it."

"How long have you been in karate?"

"Since seventh grade, up until senior year. After I lost the tournament in '84, my sensei tried to kill me. My buddies and I walked away."

"Johnny... that's awful. I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

She touched her glass again, then looked at him. "I'll be at the dojo after class tomorrow, but I have to get my clinical schedule. On the nights I have clinicals, I won't be there. Besides..." She smirked. "My poor brother needs the training more than me."

Johnny chuckled, then hesitated before reaching out. His calloused hand brushed hers. To his surprise, she didn't pull away. She laced her fingers with his, their hands fitting together in a quiet kind of comfort.

He studied her face—the grief that still shadowed her, the fire that once burned so brightly in her eyes. And for the first time in years, Johnny Lawrence swore to himself that he was going to protect something, someone, worth fighting for.

And that someone was Stella Walker.