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The lobby of the hotel hummed with quiet tension, a stark contrast to the usual buzzing energy that filled the room. Groups of competitors huddled together in various corners, exchanging hushed conversations as the morning's grueling competition weighed heavily on everyone's shoulders. The atmosphere was thick with exhaustion, frustration, and an unspoken anxiety about what was still to come. The soft clinking of water bottles and shifting of shoes on the marble floors filled the otherwise hushed room.

Belle stood near the center of the group, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her posture was tense, as though she were bracing herself for something—anything. A few stray strands of dark hair fell from the tight ponytail she'd hastily thrown together earlier, the damp strands now clinging to her forehead from the sweat of the morning's brutal matches. Her sharp eyes swept across the group, scanning the faces of her teammates. Even Demetri, whose usual jokes and sarcastic remarks were a constant presence, wore a tight-lipped, serious expression. His usual banter was absent, replaced by the same exhaustion that seemed to have settled on everyone.

Sam stood beside her, also quiet, her brow furrowed slightly as she stared ahead, probably lost in her own thoughts about the events. The whole dojo seemed to share the same mood: tired, mentally drained, and uncertain of what was next. No one knew what to expect from the upcoming rounds, and that uncertainty gnawed at them all.

Then, with deliberate steps, Sensei LaRusso moved into the middle of the group. His presence commanded attention without him even having to raise his voice, the air around him growing heavier as the team shifted their focus to him. With a steady, practiced movement, he clapped his hands once, the sound sharp and final, cutting through the quiet murmurings.

"Everyone, listen up," he said, his voice firm and unyielding. It was calm, but there was a seriousness behind it that made the whole group fall silent in an instant. The tension in the room seemed to tighten even more, like the pause before a storm. All eyes turned toward him, hungry for reassurance, or perhaps just an explanation for the lingering anxiety that still hung in the air.

"This morning's event was tough," LaRusso continued, his eyes sweeping over the group, making sure he had each person's attention. "But let's not get discouraged just yet. We still have two more events today, and eliminations don't start until the second one. So stay focused."

Belle's brow furrowed, her arms tightening across her chest. She stood straight, listening intently, but inside she couldn't shake the weight of what had already happened. The morning had been a gauntlet, pushing every last bit of energy and willpower out of them. And they still had two more events to go. She was barely holding it together. The uncertainty of the next rounds gnawed at her, but she pushed it aside for the moment.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Demetri raise his hand, his face scrunched in confusion as he spoke up, breaking the silence. "Wait, wait, wait. If that wasn't the elimination round, then what is?"

The question lingered in the air, leaving a pause as everyone turned to LaRusso for an answer. Belle felt her stomach tighten at the thought of what was coming next. She hadn't had time to even catch her breath, and now she had to prepare for more. The anticipation of what was next, coupled with the exhaustion already settling into her bones, was almost too much to bear.

Belle couldn't resist offering her own sarcastic comment to break the tension. She let out a small, dry chuckle, her tone light but with a hint of biting humor. "What's next? Getting our heads cut off with swords?" Her smirk was playful, but her voice gave away the nervousness she was trying to mask.

A few teammates chuckled softly at her comment, the lightheartedness of the moment lifting the tension ever so slightly. Even Demetri cracked a half-smile, a rare moment of levity amidst the unease.

LaRusso gave a small, tight-lipped smile, but there was no mistaking the focus in his eyes. He didn't let the moment of humor break his resolve. "We knew this wasn't going to be easy," he said, his voice steady as he met the gaze of each of his students. "We're up against the best dojos in the world. But don't forget—you guys are one of them too."

There was a moment of silence as the words settled in, the weight of his statement sinking in. Belle caught a glance from Sam, and for a second, their eyes met with shared understanding—an acknowledgment of how much more they had to give, even when it felt like they had nothing left.

But before anyone could respond, Johnny stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension. "Yeah," he said bluntly, his face scrunched in his usual no-nonsense expression. "So start fighting like it."

Belle couldn't help the skeptical look that crossed her face. She exchanged a brief glance with Sam, who raised an eyebrow. Johnny's encouragement wasn't exactly the heartening pep talk they were all hoping for, more like a jab to remind them of what they should already know. His words landed more like a challenge than a reassurance.

"Johnny, come on, man," LaRusso said, cutting his co-sensei a sharp look as he exhaled in exasperation. The years of partnership and occasional disagreements between the two were clear in that single glance. "The best thing you can do right now is clear your minds, get some rest, and put this behind you. You got this, all right? I believe in you."

The words were simple, but the weight of LaRusso's belief in them was heavy, filling the room with a quiet strength.

Belle sighed softly, her shoulders drooping as she rubbed the back of her neck. The reminder of the battles ahead lingered like a weight pressing down on her chest. The exhaustion was beginning to sink in, and her body ached from the intensity of the earlier matches. She wanted to believe in the team, in Miyagi-Do, and the principles they stood for, but the thought of competing at this level, surrounded by the best fighters in the world, made her feel small, insignificant even. It wasn't that she didn't believe in herself—she did, but there were moments when the pressure of it all seemed unbearable. And she didn't know if the rest of the team felt the same, or if they were hiding it behind their own masks of confidence.

But despite the unease that still tugged at her, she straightened up, trying to shake off the nerves and doubts. They still had work to do. The day wasn't over, and it was far from done. There was still a fight ahead, and they weren't going to back down. Not now. Not after everything they had already sacrificed to get here.

As the elevator doors slid closed, Devon slumped back against the cool metal wall, her shoulders heavy with frustration. She let out a long, drawn-out sigh, the weight of the morning's failure pressing down on her. Her hands slid into the pockets of her hoodie, and she gave the floor a half-hearted glare. "Well, I totally sucked out there," she muttered, her voice tinged with self-criticism. She let her head fall back, staring at the ceiling as if hoping to find some answer there. "I mean, what the hell happened? I couldn't land a single clean kick, and then—" She paused, grimacing as the memory of the final mishap flashed in her mind. "I went full-on pratfall. Like, flat on my ass. Right in front of everyone."

Sam, standing near the corner of the elevator, crossed her arms tightly in front of her chest, her gaze directed at the floor. Her voice was barely above a whisper, flat and heavy with her own sense of defeat. "We all did terribly," she said, her tone void of any real conviction. The words seemed to hang in the air, thick with the weight of unspoken disappointment.

Devon and Belle both turned to look at Sam, her words catching their attention. Devon raised an eyebrow, her expression one of surprise mixed with a hint of sympathy. "Yeah, but I literally landed on my ass," Devon reiterated, shaking her head in disbelief. "I mean, I was so off my game that even my balance was garbage. I don't even know what happened out there. It's like I just forgot everything I've ever learned the second I stepped on that mat."

Belle gave a soft shrug, her lips quirking upward in a faint, almost imperceptible smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. She tilted her head slightly to the side, trying to offer some comfort, even if it wasn't much. "It's not all on you," she said, her voice steady and calm, though it carried a subtle understanding. "The whole team's been struggling today. It's just been... a lot, you know?"

Sam glanced at Belle briefly before her frustration bubbled to the surface, her voice sharp and cutting as she exhaled slowly. "It would help if our senseis got on the same page," she muttered, her jaw tightening. "Johnny's gotta start working with my dad. They're not exactly the dream team. The constant clashing between them is messing with the whole vibe out there. We need them to focus on the team, not their egos."

Belle's eyes narrowed just slightly as she shot Sam a pointed look. She pursed her lips for a moment, taking in Sam's frustration before responding, her voice steady but carrying a tinge of subtle disagreement. "I mean, I don't think it's all Johnny's fault," she said. "He's just... different, Sam. He's always been that way. You can't expect him to suddenly change just because we're in this big competition. He's got his own style, and it works for him."

Sam's expression tightened, her eyes narrowing with an unmistakable edge. She shot Belle a look that bordered on a glare, her lips pressing into a thin line. The air between them crackled with an unspoken tension, the kind that had been brewing for a while now. Belle met her gaze without flinching, the unspoken disagreement between them only adding to the weight of the moment. Devon, standing awkwardly between them, felt the shift in energy and shifted her weight, uncomfortable in the growing tension.

Before things could escalate further, the elevator chimed softly, signaling that they had reached another floor. The doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and standing just outside, poised and confident as ever, was Zara Malik. She was holding her phone up, clearly mid-live-stream, as she breezed into the elevator, her presence demanding immediate attention.

"What's up, everyone?" Zara's voice rang out brightly, dripping with fake sweetness as she gave her audience a wide, toothy smile. "It's your queen of karate here!" She spoke as though the words were rehearsed, her energy almost sickeningly bubbly. "Just finished our second Sekai Taikai event—" She pressed one of the buttons on the panel to send them upwards, her attention still fully focused on her phone. "—where the Dragons absolutely slayed, as always. You know how we do." She paused briefly, her expression flicking toward the group with a flash of feigned recognition. "Although," she added with a playful smile, turning slightly toward them, "it was awesome to see some other badass girls of karate out there doing their thing. Gotta show love for the competition."

Devon's eyes rolled automatically, a groan of annoyance slipping from her as she folded her arms tightly across her chest. Belle let out a small, quiet sigh, her irritation bubbling to the surface, but she kept it contained, her lips curling into a wry smirk. Zara continued, oblivious to their discomfort, as she turned back to her phone with renewed enthusiasm.

"Anyway," Zara said, her voice thick with artificial cheerfulness, "let's see if any of these other dojos try to dethrone us in the next round. To all my fans, I'm here to win for you, so stay tuned. I'll post again after the next event. Zara out!" With that, she ended her live-stream with a flourish, tucking her phone back into her pocket with an exaggerated flick of her wrist, clearly satisfied with her performance.

Her eyes then flicked over to the trio of Belle, Sam, and Devon, her lips curling into a smug, almost predatory smile. "Sorry," Zara said, her tone dripping with insincere sympathy. "I only do intros on my stories for fighters who win their events. It's a brand thing, so don't take it personally, yeah?"

Belle scoffed, her arms still crossed as she exchanged a look with Sam and Devon. There was no mistaking the sarcasm in her voice. "Oh, no. We'd never take it personally," Belle said, her tone thick with mock sweetness, her eyes glinting with annoyance.

The elevator chimed again as it reached the next floor. Zara, without missing a beat, strutted out of the elevator, her posture practically oozing arrogance. She paused in the doorway just long enough to flick her hair dramatically over her shoulder, as though the world were her stage. "Good luck, ladies. You'll need it," she tossed over her shoulder, her voice condescending and almost playful.

As the doors slid closed behind her, Sam let out an exasperated sigh, the breath leaving her lungs like a deflated balloon. "Wow," she mocked, her voice dripping with venom. "'It's a brand thing,'" she repeated, rolling her eyes dramatically. "That's rich."

Devon snorted with amusement, shaking her head in disbelief. "I don't know what's worse—the trash talk or the constant live-streaming," she muttered, her voice tinged with incredulity. "Honestly, it's like she thinks she's the only one here who matters."

The atmosphere in the dojo was thick with anticipation as the two competitors stood across from one another on the mat. Belle's breath came in slow, controlled inhales, trying to focus her mind, while Zara stood with a smug grin plastered on her face, clearly enjoying the attention. It wasn't unusual for Zara to try to get under people's skin with her words, but today, Belle was determined to stay focused.

The referee called out, signaling the beginning of the match, and the silence fell heavy as the two girls squared off. Belle dropped into a defensive stance, fingers lightly curled in front of her, preparing for Zara's first move. Zara, on the other hand, stood with a cocky stance, almost bored, as if this fight were just another routine for her.

"You know," Zara started, her voice casual as she took a few steps forward, sizing Belle up, "I've been thinking... Miguel's pretty cute." She flashed a smile, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Maybe I'll take him for a spin after this. You know, see if he's up for a little more than just karate."

Belle's jaw tightened, but she didn't respond. She focused instead on maintaining her stance, her breathing steady, drawing in strength from her kata practice. Her mind briefly flashed to Miguel—her boyfriend, who always seemed to be a target of Zara's irritating remarks. She pushed that aside. She couldn't let Zara's words shake her. Not now.

Zara grinned at the silence. "What's the matter, Belle? Can't handle a little competition? I mean, you're cute and all, but you know what they say... competition makes things more interesting." She kept walking around the mat, keeping her eyes locked on Belle, not even attempting to hide the mockery in her voice.

Belle kept her cool, letting her body flow through the kata movements, each strike and block coming from a place of practiced calm. Zara, however, seemed determined to distract her. "Honestly, Belle, how does it feel knowing I could probably make Miguel forget all about you? He'd be a whole lot more fun with someone who knows how to show him a good time." Zara's voice was just loud enough for the audience to hear, and she didn't seem to care who was listening.

Belle's stomach churned, her hands gripping into fists. She had to stay focused. She couldn't let Zara get to her. With a swift pivot, Belle launched herself into an offensive stance, striking out with a fast roundhouse kick aimed at Zara's side.

Zara blocked it effortlessly, but she couldn't keep herself from continuing the verbal assault. "You know, I bet if I asked Miguel, he wouldn't say no. He's just that kind of guy. Always up for a challenge." Zara's laugh was mocking, almost as if she was toying with Belle.

Belle's heart pounded, but she pushed through. The words, sharp as they were, couldn't take away her focus. She executed a series of perfect fluid motions, her kicks sharp and her stance solid, a clear reminder of her discipline. Zara, still talking, didn't seem to realize that Belle's resolve was only growing stronger.

"Come on, Belle, lighten up!" Zara taunted, side-stepping Belle's punch and landing an elbow to her ribs. "What's the matter? Too busy thinking about how much fun Miguel and I could have together?"

Belle's face flushed with a mixture of anger and concentration, but she didn't allow herself to react to the bait. With controlled fury, she swept her leg low, knocking Zara off balance. Zara stumbled, but just as she tried to recover, Belle moved with precision, driving her elbow into Zara's side, forcing her down to the mat.

Zara grunted, but Belle didn't wait for her to get up. She followed through with a quick series of moves, a combination of defensive blocks and offensive strikes that Zara couldn't keep up with. The crowd watched in silence, impressed with Belle's focus despite Zara's incessant attempts at provocation.

Finally, with a swift spinning kick, Belle knocked Zara to the ground, securing the victory. She stood over her for a moment, her chest heaving as the adrenaline rushed through her. Zara groaned but didn't speak, her arrogance silenced by the force of Belle's controlled technique.

Belle turned and walked off the mat without another word. The noise of the crowd started to return to full volume, but it was quiet in Belle's mind as she moved toward the sidelines, wiping the sweat from her brow.

As she reached the edge of the mat, she heard a familiar voice. Miguel was leaning against the railing, his arms crossed, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"That was pretty damn impressive," he said, his voice warm and genuine. "You didn't let her get to you—not once. That takes some serious focus."

Belle couldn't help but smile, the tension of the match finally easing. She walked over to him, nodding. "Thanks. I had to keep my head in the game."

Miguel's eyes softened, and he gave her a small, proud smile. "You did more than just keep your head in the game. You showed her what it really means to fight with discipline. I'm proud of you, Belle."

Belle met his gaze, a wave of warmth sweeping through her at the sincerity in his voice. "Thanks, Miguel," she said softly, her heart swelling. The irritation from Zara's words began to melt away, replaced by the satisfaction of knowing that no matter what anyone said, her strength wasn't defined by their opinions—it was defined by her actions. And today, her actions had spoken louder than Zara's petty words.

Belle and Miguel stepped off the mat, the weight of the fight finally settling in. Belle's chest was heaving as she tried to steady her breath, the adrenaline from the match still pumping through her veins. The cheers from the crowd reverberated through the arena, but for Belle, the noise faded into the background. Her eyes were locked on one thing: the leaderboard.

She craned her neck, her focus tightening as she watched the letters shift, the digital display updating with each passing moment. Time seemed to slow as she waited, her pulse quickening. There it was—Miyagi-Do moved up a few spots. It wasn't a massive leap, but it was something. A small step closer to proving they belonged here, on this stage, with the best of them. The corners of her lips curled into a triumphant grin.

Belle's heart swelled with pride, her body still buzzing from the fight. She turned to Miguel, who was standing just behind her, his expression one of quiet admiration. His eyes had been fixed on her during the match, but now, his gaze softened, and he gave her a small, approving nod. The warmth in his smile made Belle's chest tighten, a feeling of satisfaction that made her forget the physical exertion.

But there was no time to linger in the moment. Belle's eyes darted around the room, scanning for Johnny. Her sense of accomplishment needed to be shared, especially with the man who had been pushing her to be better, to go beyond her limits. Spotting him near the sidelines, arms crossed, and his sharp eyes locked on the leaderboard, she jogged over, excitement bubbling up inside her, almost spilling over.

"Sensei! Sensei, did you see what I did to that Zara girl?" Belle's voice was filled with uncontainable pride. The victory felt personal. This wasn't just about the points or the standings—it was about proving herself, about showing that she wasn't just a part of Miyagi-Do, she was a force to be reckoned with. Zara had taunted her, insulted her, tried to get into her head, and Belle had shut her down. She'd fought her hardest and come out on top.

But Johnny didn't respond right away. His gaze remained fixed on the leaderboard, his face unreadable. His expression was hard, his features set in a permanent frown that was all too familiar to Belle by now. She felt a flicker of confusion, her excitement starting to wane as the seconds ticked by. She waited, the anticipation weighing heavily on her chest. After what felt like an eternity, Johnny's lips parted, and his voice came out, flat and gruff.

"It's too little, too late, Wu. We're near the bottom of the standings. There's nothing to celebrate here."

Belle froze, her smile vanishing as though it had been wiped off her face. The words hit her like a cold splash of water. "What?" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly with disbelief.

Her chest tightened as the proud sense of accomplishment she'd been riding crumbled into something darker. Something she couldn't quite place. A mix of frustration, confusion, and hurt. She glanced over at Miguel, who was standing a few steps behind her. His expression mirrored her shock, his brows furrowing as he processed Johnny's words. Miguel opened his mouth, as if to protest, but held back, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"That's not fair," Belle muttered under her breath, her words barely audible as she tried to make sense of Johnny's reaction. But Johnny wasn't listening. His gaze was still locked on the leaderboard, as if everything else in the room had faded into nothing.

Behind them, Demetri and Eli were already heading toward the exit. Their shoulders slumped in defeat, their movements slow and weary. It was clear they weren't in the mood for a celebration either.

Johnny's sharp voice cut through the air, piercing the silence that had settled around them. "Hey! Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Demetri and Eli turned in unison, their faces tight with frustration, both clearly done with the day's events.

"Uh, back to the hotel to wash off this disgrace," Demetri shot back, his sarcasm dripping with bitterness. His tone was pointed, cutting, as if he was trying to match Johnny's hardness with his own form of defiance.

But Johnny wasn't having any of it. His voice rose, firm and commanding, as if they were back in the dojo for another round of training. "You're not getting off that easy. Locker room. Now."

Belle blinked in surprise, the sudden shift in atmosphere sending a ripple of unease through her. She exchanged a wide-eyed look with Miguel, who sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. The tension in the air was palpable—thick and suffocating. The unspoken weight of Johnny's words seemed to hang over them like a dark cloud, overshadowing the small victory they'd just earned. Miguel's quiet resignation was evident, but there was nothing left to do. They had to follow.

Without another word, the team began trudging toward the locker room, their footsteps echoing in the massive arena like the ticking of a clock. Belle's heart hammered in her chest as she followed, her mind racing. What was Johnny going to say in there? What was he expecting from them?

She lingered for a moment, stealing one last glance at the leaderboard. Her name was there, right beside the victory over Zara. But now, it felt hollow. A victory that didn't matter in the grand scheme of things, not when their team was still sitting near the bottom of the standings. Not when it felt like every little step they took was overshadowed by the harsh expectations Johnny had for them.

With a deep breath, Belle turned away, walking slowly to catch up with the rest of the team. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts—questions, doubts, fears—each one crashing into the other. She didn't know what was coming next, but she was sure that whatever Johnny had to say in that locker room, it wasn't going to be easy. And, for some reason, she wasn't sure she was ready to hear it.

The locker room felt like a pressure cooker about to explode. The air was thick with the weight of unspoken frustration, disappointment, and simmering resentment. It clung to every surface, suffocating those inside. Johnny Lawrence stalked back and forth across the room, his broad shoulders tense, his steps sharp and deliberate like those of a caged animal ready to spring. His eyes, usually cold and unflinching, were now ablaze with a fiery frustration that seemed to burn through the air.

"What I saw from you just now?" Johnny's voice cut through the room like a blade, harsh and unforgiving. "It wasn't karate. It was weakness. You fought like little lambs being led to slaughter."

The team shifted uneasily, some slumping into benches, others standing against the walls, avoiding his gaze at all costs. Belle leaned against the lockers, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her jaw clenched as she tried to hold her composure. Her heart was still racing from the adrenaline of the match, but the bitterness in Johnny's tone made it hard to focus on anything else.

Johnny didn't pause. He kept pacing, his voice rising in intensity. "If you keep going like this, we're done tonight. Eliminated. And what then? Some of you might shrug it off, move on. But the rest of you? You're gonna carry this with you for the rest of your lives. You'll remember this moment, this opportunity to prove yourselves, and you'll know you crumbled under pressure."

The room felt suffocating as Johnny's words hung in the air, each sentence like a weight on their chests. Belle could feel the heat of his anger radiating in waves, her frustration rising in response. His words stung—he was right, but his delivery was anything but helpful.

"And then what?" Johnny spat, turning on them with eyes blazing. "You'll end up living shitty lives in shitty apartments with shitty jobs, all because you couldn't get it together when it mattered. So, if that's what you want—if you're all ready to throw in the towel—why don't we save ourselves some humiliation and just catch the next flight home?"

A cold, bitter silence fell over the room, punctuated only by the faint hum of the overhead lights. No one spoke; no one moved. Belle's chest tightened, her breath shallow. She had worked so hard for this, for her victory, for their chance to rise, and now it felt like it meant nothing. Her victory over Zara, the small glimmer of hope, felt diminished under Johnny's harsh critique.

"What is wrong with you guys?" Johnny demanded, his voice sharp and accusing. His piercing glare swept across the room, cutting through each of them. "Where's your fight? Aren't you gonna stand up for yourselves?"

Sam, who had been quiet up until now, finally lifted her head. Her eyes narrowed, her expression hardening with frustration. "You keep blaming us," she said, her voice steady but laced with annoyance. "Like this isn't on him." She jabbed a thumb toward Johnny, her voice now rising. "Like he's the only one who's allowed to make mistakes."

Belle, her own anger beginning to boil, stepped forward. "Oh, I wonder why?" she shot back, her voice ringing with sharpness. "Maybe because you and your family drove Tory back to Cobra Kai."

The words hit their mark, and Sam's face flushed crimson with anger. Belle didn't back down, her voice growing louder, more confident. "I know your dad was hoping you'd be the one to win, Sam. But guess what? I'm the captain, not you."

Sam bristled, fury evident in her eyes. "Whatever, Belle," she snapped, her words like ice. "If my dad had been here today, we never would've lost like that."

Johnny, who had been watching the exchange closely, suddenly stepped forward, his tone cutting. "Yeah, well, he didn't show up, did he?"

The room fell silent again, the air charged with tension. Sam's eyes, red with anger, flicked toward Johnny, her jaw tight as she turned her frustration on him. "Probably because of you," she spat, her voice dripping with contempt.

The words hung in the air like a ticking time bomb. Belle could feel her blood boiling, the heat of the argument searing through her, but before she could respond, Devon, who had been sitting on a bench, jumped to her feet, her face flushed with indignation.

"Hey!" Devon's voice rang out, sharp and clear, full of conviction. "Don't talk to my Sensei like that."

Sam's gaze flicked to Devon, her lip curling in disdain. "Your Sensei got you knocked off the board in ten seconds. So I would sit down if I were you."

Belle groaned, exasperated, stepping between the two girls, raising a hand in a futile attempt to stop the confrontation before it escalated further. "Back off, Sam," she said firmly, her voice carrying the weight of her exhaustion.

But Sam wasn't finished. Her glare shifted from Devon to Belle, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're not helping us," she sneered. "I don't even know how you made this team."

Devon's eyes flared, but she fell back onto the bench, muttering under her breath as she fumed silently.

In the back of the room, Demetri, always the voice of reason, cleared his throat and decided it was time to speak up, his words cutting through the tension like a dull blade. "Well, I, for one, will be putting all this behind me when I'm off to MIT—"

"Shut the fuck up about MIT!" Eli exploded, his voice booming with fury as he whipped around to glare at Demetri. "Some of us actually care about winning this tournament. It'd be nice if you did too."

Robby, who had been quietly observing the chaos unfold, stepped in with a calm but firm voice. "Guys, can we cool it? This isn't helping. We need to focus up."

Miguel, who had been quietly sitting on the sidelines, finally muttered something under his breath loud enough for everyone to hear, his tone dripping with frustration. "Maybe you should listen to your own advice."

Robby's eyebrows shot up, his body stiffening as he turned to face Miguel. "Got something to say?"

Miguel stood up without hesitation, meeting Robby's gaze with an unflinching intensity. "I already did."

The room fell into an unnerving silence, the air crackling with the tension of unsaid words. Without another word, Miguel turned on his heel and strode toward the door, his steps echoing in the otherwise quiet room. Belle, her patience stretched thin by the chaos and the weight of Johnny's anger, pushed off the locker with a resigned sigh and followed him.

The door slammed shut behind them, and for a moment, all that was left in the room was the sound of Johnny's voice, still calling after them, but growing distant as they left the mess behind.

Belle needed a breather. The locker room was still echoing with Johnny's harsh words, and her mind was buzzing with the frustration and tension of the fight. She couldn't stand it anymore—the pressure, the constant fighting, the blaming. Her breath was coming too fast, and she needed space to clear her head.

She stepped out of the locker room, the cool air of the hallway a slight relief. She walked quickly, her footsteps loud in the otherwise quiet arena. The sounds of other teams warming up and the hum of activity filled the space around her, but she barely noticed. She was focused on putting distance between herself and the chaos.

As she rounded a corner, she passed a gym door that was slightly ajar. The sound of yelling made her stop in her tracks. It was loud, angry, and sharp. She hesitated for a moment, curiosity pricking at her, before she took a cautious step closer, peering inside.

The scene inside was one of utter chaos. The room was dimly lit, filled with the harsh echoes of a belt hitting skin, and the unmistakable sound of someone crying out. Belle's eyes widened as she saw Axel, the boy from the Iron Dragons team. He was on his knees, his back facing her, and she could see the deep red marks on his skin from the blows he'd taken. His sensei, a towering figure with a cold expression, stood over him, brandishing the belt with a cruel sort of discipline.

Axel's face was a mask of pain, his eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to endure the punishment. But it wasn't the strikes that froze Belle in place—it was the moment Axel's eyes flicked toward her, catching her gaze through the crack in the door. His eyes widened in shock, a mixture of desperation and pleading as their eyes locked for just a moment.

Her heart skipped a beat. It was like time had stopped between them. The world outside the gym faded away as she could see the silent plea in Axel's eyes, as though he was begging her to look away, to not see what was happening.

But Belle couldn't tear her eyes away. She stood there frozen, her breath caught in her throat, the sight of the punishment too much to bear. For a moment, she felt helpless, her mind racing, unsure of what to do.

Then, as quickly as the moment had come, Axel broke their gaze. He looked down at the ground, the fight leaving his body as he submitted to his sensei's cruelty. The sensei stepped back for a brief moment, his eyes cold and unforgiving, and Axel hunched forward, his hands clutching his own knees in an effort to stay upright.

Belle's heart pounded in her chest. She knew she shouldn't have stayed. She shouldn't have seen any of it, but the image of Axel's pain was burned into her mind.

Her body reacted before her mind could catch up. She turned on her heel and ran, her legs carrying her down the hallway with a speed that felt almost instinctual. She didn't dare look back, not even when she heard the sound of the belt again, the crack of it cutting through the air. She just kept running, her thoughts racing as she tried to process what she had just witnessed.

She didn't stop until she was far enough away—until she found a small, quiet space where she could breathe again. But even then, the image of Axel's eyes, wide with fear and shame, haunted her. What had she just seen? And what could she do about it?

The questions swirled in her head, but one thing was clear—Axel was in a world of hurt, and she had to figure out what to do next.

Belle stood at the center of the Sekai Taikai arena, the roar of the crowd reverberating in her chest like the rumbling of an approaching storm. The noise was deafening, a constant hum of excitement, but Belle barely registered it—her focus was entirely on what lay ahead. Bright lights flashed overhead, reflecting off the massive digital board that stretched across the stadium, displaying the names of the competing dojos in bold, neon colors. The air buzzed with anticipation as spectators cheered, their voices a cacophony that blended together, creating a thick atmosphere of tension.

Her fingers tightened into fists, the smooth fabric of her gi stretching against her skin as she felt the weight of the moment sink in. There was no turning back now. The elimination phase. This was the point where everything mattered. One slip-up, one misstep, and her team would be out. The thought of failure loomed like a shadow in the back of her mind, but she shoved it down, steeling herself for what was to come.

The announcer's voice cut through the noise, booming across the arena with practiced authority. "We have now entered the elimination phase of the Sekai Taikai!" His words rang out with such force that they seemed to carry a weight of their own. The crowd began to quiet, their murmurs dying down as they leaned in to hear the details.

Belle's heart hammered in her chest, the thud of it pounding in her ears as she clenched her jaw.

"The dojos who do not win tonight will be heading home," the announcer continued, his tone shifting to a more ominous note. "The previous rounds have determined your current rankings. The number one team will face the number 16 team. The number two team will face the number 15 team, and so on."

Belle's gaze shifted to the towering digital board once more. She scanned through the matchups, her stomach twisting as her eyes landed on their dojo's name. Miyagi-Do—number 12. She sucked in a breath, her stomach churning with nerves, but she quickly masked it with a determined exhale. She'd come too far to let her nerves get the better of her now. She had trained for this moment, pushed herself beyond what she thought possible. This was her chance.

"Okay," Devon's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, her hand resting firmly on her shoulder. She glanced at the board, her expression grim. "That means at number 12, we're facing number five—Iron Dragons."

Beside her, Eli let out an exasperated groan, crossing his arms over his chest as he shot a look at the opposing team. "Oh, great. Iron Dragons. Just what we need."

Belle couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. The reputation of Iron Dragons preceded them. She could already see their fighters standing across the room, puffing their chests out like they owned the place. They were practically daring anyone to challenge them. They shoved each other playfully, one of them giving another a rough, teasing punch to the shoulder, sending him stumbling dramatically. The laughter that followed was boisterous and exaggerated, but it wasn't friendly—it was the kind of energy that made her skin crawl. Their cocky posturing felt like a challenge, a precursor to chaos.

Her attention snapped back to the announcer, who raised his hands to silence the crowd, calling everyone's attention back to the stage. The lights shifted, casting a spotlight on the area directly in front of them. A ripple of excitement ran through the spectators as the announcer continued.

"Now, for the rules of the event," he said, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. "Fighters will again face off on a platform."

Belle's breath caught in her throat as she watched the ceiling above the arena shift. There was a low rumble, followed by a mechanical whirring sound. Slowly, a massive metallic platform began to descend from the ceiling, the smooth surface gleaming under the harsh lights. The edges were lined with padded barriers, and the size of it made her stomach drop. It was elevated, hovering above the stage like a gladiatorial arena, a test of both skill and endurance. The platform seemed to swallow the space below, transforming it into something much more intimidating. The crowd's cheers grew louder, their excitement palpable as the spectacle unfolded before their eyes.

"The platform will be the battleground," the announcer said, stepping aside to let the crowd take in the sight. "But this time, two fighters from each dojo are allowed on the platform at one time. If one of your fighters falls, they are out. But another teammate can climb up to take their place. However, the fight will never stop. So, get up there quickly, or you'll leave your teammate alone to face a two-on-one."

The announcement sent ripples of murmurs through the competitors, each dojo processing the rules in their own way. Belle's eyes flicked toward her teammates, her mind already running through the possibilities. Two-on-one situations could be brutal. Timing, she knew, would be everything. If they weren't prepared, they could be overwhelmed in an instant.

"When all the fighters of a dojo have been knocked off, the team is out," the announcer finished, his voice triumphant. He gestured dramatically toward the platform now fully in place. "Let the battles begin!"

Eli muttered darkly beside Belle, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Two-on-one? That's practically a dream for these guys." He nodded toward Dublin Thunder, who were already hopping up and down, shadowboxing, and egging each other on. Their wild, unpredictable energy was almost tangible. It was as if they were a pack of wolves, not a team of disciplined fighters. "They look more like a gang itching for a street fight than a dojo preparing for a tournament."

Belle's gaze shifted back to Dublin Thunder. They were chaotic, reckless even, but there was no denying their raw power. They were the kind of team that thrived in the chaos. But she wasn't about to back down. She turned to face her own team, her voice calm but firm.

"We've trained for this," she said, meeting each of her teammate's eyes. "They might be scrappy, but we have discipline on our side. We stick to the plan. Trust each other, and we'll win."

The team nodded, determination flashing in their eyes. This was it. No second chances.

Belle's eyes remained locked on the Iron Dragons, her gaze unwavering as they celebrated their victory. The crowd's roaring cheers felt almost distant to her, drowned out by the intensity of her focus. Axel, the towering fighter who had just defeated his opponent, let out a triumphant roar that echoed through the arena. His body was a work of raw power, every muscle in his broad frame rippling beneath the tight-fitting gi, his stature commanding attention. His expression was one of sheer dominance, a force of nature unfurling in the spotlight as he stepped forward. There was an almost primal energy to his victory, as though he'd just conquered something far bigger than the opponent standing before him.

Beside him, Zara was the complete opposite. Where Axel was the embodiment of strength, Zara was a whirlwind of charisma and flair. She flashed a dazzling smile, her hands raised theatrically to the crowd. Her playful, confident gestures—a blown kiss here, a wink there—had the audience eating out of her palm. She seemed to revel in the attention, basking in the love the crowd had for her like a star relishing her moment in the limelight. The cheers grew louder, punctuated by some in the crowd shouting her name, the energy infectious.

Belle shifted her weight from one foot to the other, arms crossed in front of her as she watched the Iron Dragons with a critical but respectful eye. She couldn't deny the skill and coordination the two displayed. Axel's raw power was impressive, but it was Zara's fluidity and precision that balanced out their dynamic. Together, they made for an unstoppable duo, a perfect complement of brawn and finesse. No flukes here—this victory had been hard-earned.

The announcer's voice boomed, cutting through her thoughts. "Advancing to the next round, the Iron Dragons!" His words were met with another roar from the crowd, and Axel's victorious shout made the hairs on Belle's neck stand on end. His fist shot up into the air, a powerful symbol of triumph that reverberated through the arena. His energy was overwhelming, the sheer rawness of his excitement almost unsettling.

Beside him, Zara took a more theatrical route, blowing a dramatic kiss to the audience as though she was born for this. The crowd's reaction was deafening—people cheered, clapped, and whistled in admiration. Belle couldn't help but roll her eyes slightly at Zara's performance, though it was hard not to admit that the girl knew how to work a crowd.

"Was this dude made in a lab?" Eli's voice cut through Belle's observations, his disbelief evident. He turned to Demetri, who nodded enthusiastically, clearly caught up in the spectacle.

"He's like a mix between the Winter Soldier and Frankenstein's monster," Demetri added, his tone filled with a mix of awe and humor, his eyes wide as he took in Axel's imposing presence.

Belle glanced at them, her expression softening with a hint of disapproval. She wasn't in the mood for jokes at someone else's expense. "Don't call him a monster," she said firmly, her voice more serious than she expected. "You don't know what someone's been through to get where they are." The words came out before she even realized they were on her tongue, and she immediately found herself wondering why she felt so strongly about it. She glanced over at Miguel, but he was distracted, lost in his own thoughts as usual. His mind was always elsewhere, except when it came to karate. Still, Belle couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. There was an unfamiliar protective streak growing inside her, and it was centered around Axel of all people. Was it just the way he carried himself, or was there something deeper there that she was sensing?

Her attention returned to Axel. His fierce energy still radiated outward, the confidence in his every step a constant reminder that this wasn't just any fighter—this was a person who'd fought through unimaginable challenges to get to this stage. The Iron Dragons were a team to be reckoned with, and Axel... he wasn't just a brute force. There was something more. Something behind his eyes, something that suggested the fight had cost him more than just physical endurance.

Belle narrowed her eyes, trying to piece it all together. There was something there—something more than just strength and showmanship. Was it a glimpse of vulnerability hidden behind his aggressive exterior? Or was it something else entirely? She wasn't sure yet, but for the first time in a long while, Belle found herself intrigued—by Axel, by his team, and by the layers she knew were still waiting to be uncovered.

The lights in the Sekai Taikai arena dimmed, casting long shadows over the platform as the announcer's voice boomed, reverberating throughout the massive space. The crowd, a living, breathing entity of energy, buzzed with anticipation. It felt like the entire stadium had taken a collective breath, waiting for the next moment to unfold. The stakes were higher than ever. One slip, one mistake, and they were out of the tournament. There was no room for error now.

"Next on the platform, Iron Dragons versus Miyagi-Do!" the announcer shouted, and the crowd erupted into a deafening roar. The sound almost swallowed Belle's thoughts, but she steadied herself, gripping the edges of her gi with a tight hand as she watched both teams make their way toward the platform. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat louder than the last. She adjusted her stance, keeping her breath even though she could feel the quickness of it now. The weight of the moment pressed heavily on her shoulders, but she was ready. She had trained for this. She couldn't afford to let nerves get the better of her.

Johnny and Sam walked over to their team, their faces serious but resolute, the quiet confidence in their posture unmistakable. Johnny's usual bravado was tempered today, replaced by something more grounded. Belle stood in the middle of the group, her eyes tracking the Dublin Thunder team, who were already on the platform, throwing glances at Miyagi-Do with a mix of intimidation and determination. The noise of the crowd was overwhelming, but the tension was palpable in the air between the two teams. One loss, and it was all over. There was no second chance.

"Alright, let's bring it in," Johnny's voice cut through the hum of the arena, strong and commanding. "I got something to say." The team quieted, eyes fixed on him. There was a firmness to his words that Belle didn't often hear from him.

"It's been a tough day," Johnny admitted, his voice softer than usual. "Probably shouldn't have been such a dick to all of you, but I want you to know that I believe with every bone in my body that you can do this. You guys know a lot more about balance than me, so remember everything Sensei LaRusso said and use all your Miyagi-Do skills to stay up there." His eyes swept over the group, settling briefly on Belle. She could see the sincerity there, the trust he had in them.

Belle's stomach tightened at his words. They weren't just words to her—they were a challenge. A promise she wasn't about to break. She wouldn't let them down. Not now, not when everything was on the line.

Johnny's eyes locked onto hers again, and he gave a small, reassuring nod. "I'm thinking we should start strong with our captains. Belle. Robby."

Her heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name. She straightened her posture, though her gaze flickered briefly to Robby. His back was rigid, his jaw set tight as he tied his captain's headband, the fabric pulled with more force than necessary. There was no hiding the tension between them. She could feel it in every step, every glance. But there was no time to address it now. They had a fight to win.

"Devon, you'll go next. Hawk. Demetri. Sam. And Miguel's our anchor," Johnny finished, his gaze steady as he looked at each of them. "Let's do this." The team bowed in unison, a moment of grounding before stepping onto the platform, ready to face whatever came their way.

As Belle walked toward the edge of the platform, the noise of the crowd swelled, the cheers, the jeers, everything blending into a single, overwhelming sound. Her eyes tracked the iron Dragons team. They were already on the platform, flexing their muscles, cracking their knuckles, sizing up Miyagi-Do with aggressive, fiery stares. They were ready for a fight—no doubt about it. The reputation of Dublin Thunder preceded them. They were known for their unpredictable, merciless style. It was going to be tough, but Belle wasn't backing down. Not this time. Not after everything she'd been through.

She glanced over at Robby again, only to find him still glaring at Miguel from the corner of his eye. The unspoken animosity between them was as thick as the air, and it didn't make the situation any easier. But Belle didn't have time to focus on that. Not now.

The whistle blew, sharp and crisp, signaling the start of the match.

Belle and Robby were the first to step forward, the energy between them crackling as they faced off against Iron Dragons. The fight was brutal from the start, each side testing the other's limits. Axel and Zara were relentless, a perfect balance of power and precision. Belle and Robby kept their distance, their moves fluid but calculated, carefully working together to avoid the heavy-handed strikes from Iron Dragons. But then, in a flash, Axel launched a powerful strike that knocked Robby off the platform, sending him crashing to the ground below.

"Robby!" Belle shouted, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. She turned to face Zara, who was already charging toward her with a deadly intent. Belle's eyes narrowed, her mind working in overdrive. This was it. She couldn't hesitate. She had to keep fighting.

Just as Belle managed to land a hit on Zara, knocking her back momentarily, Johnny called from the sidelines. "Devon, get in there!"

Belle's stomach clenched with a mix of nerves and adrenaline as Devon stepped forward. To her surprise, Devon wasn't just ready—she was eager, fierce even. With a quick glance at Belle, Devon squared off against Zara, her movements aggressive, precise, and surprisingly quick. Belle, knowing she had no time to waste, kept fighting, landing blows on Axel. But then, as if the fight were a cruel game of chess, Belle was struck from behind, her balance slipping, and before she knew it, she was knocked off the platform. Her breath caught in her throat as she fell, hitting the ground with a heavy thud.

"Belle!" Devon shouted as she took her place next, her face a mask of determination. She faced off against Axel, landing hit after hit, each one calculated and swift. But the fight wasn't over yet. Hawk was next up.

Hawk's entrance was electric. He came out swinging, his anger and frustration clear with every strike. He managed to knock Axel back, gaining some much-needed ground for the team. But the Iron Dragons team was relentless, and it wasn't long before Demetri was up next, his eyes fierce with focus. Demetri's style was unorthodox, but it worked in his favor, managing to land a few key blows before being knocked back by Zara.

Finally, it was Sam's turn. She stepped forward, her stance confident but calm. She blocked, dodged, and countered with grace, using every Miyagi-Do principle she'd been taught. She was in the zone, her movements a fluid dance of defense and attack. She knocked Zara back with a well-placed strike, and for a moment, it looked like they had the upper hand.

But it wasn't until Miguel stepped forward that the tides fully turned. The crowd grew silent, all eyes on him. Miguel had been the anchor all along, and now it was his turn to finish what they had started. His movements were calculated, precise, and relentless as he faced off against Axel. With a roar of determination, he pushed forward, landing a series of powerful strikes that sent Axel stumbling back. Then, with one final, lightning-fast move, Miguel knocked Axel off the platform, sending him crashing to the ground below.

The crowd exploded in a frenzy of cheers. Belle, still recovering from her fall, could only watch in awe as Miguel stood victorious. His chest heaved with the effort, but the look on his face was one of complete triumph. "We did it," he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos of the crowd.

One by one, his teammates rushed toward him, pulling him into a group hug. "You did it!" they cheered, congratulating him on his hard-fought victory. Belle smiled, her chest swelling with pride. It was over. They'd won. They had made it to the next round.

ASH SPEAKS!!!!

HEHEHE GUYS NEXT CHAPTER AXEL AND BELLEEEE

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