Johnny had been scrolling through the internet for new mats. Nothing fancy, just something that didn't smell like old socks, when an autoplay video suddenly blared through the speakers.

"Inner peace. Focus. Balance."

Johnny flinched. He looked up at the screen, already grimacing.

There, in a crisp white gi and that ever-punchable smirk, stood Daniel LaRusso, centered perfectly in front of a bonsai tree backdrop.

"These are just some of the skills that you will master when you join Miyagi-Do Karate," Daniel continued, hands folded like he was Buddha.
"I'm Daniel LaRusso, and before I was the number-one auto dealer in the Valley-"

Johnny groaned. "What the hell is this?"

Daniel's voice kept going, smug and smooth.

"—I was two-time All-Valley under-18 champion."

Johnny slumped into the chair, watching in disgust as Daniel stepped into a kata formation like he was auditioning for a meditation retreat.

"Now, you can learn the secrets of Okinawan karate, true karate, by joining the Miyagi-Do team."

Johnny squinted. "Son of a bitch."

And then Daniel delivered the final blow:

"Don't be a snake in the grass... be a champion."

The ad closed with a cheerful voiceover:

"Tweet us at #TeamMiyagiDo. And remember—all lessons are free. That's right, free.
Because at Miyagi-Do, it's not about the money. It's about the karate."

Michael entered from the back, sipping a black coffee. He looked over Johnny's shoulder at the screen, catching the last seconds of Daniel's grinning face.

"Okay, I'll admit it," Michael said, shaking his head. "That's hilarious."

Johnny's jaw tightened.

Michael chuckled. "The bonsai tree. The voice. The free lessons. He's basically Mr. Rogers with a black belt."

"I oughta shove that bonsai tree up his—"

"Alright, alright," Michael said, raising a hand with a smirk. "But seriously. He's making a move. Recruiting your kids with that balance and harmony crap."

Johnny stood up, still fuming. "He's acting like he's some karate Jesus, passing out free wisdom and shit."

Michael leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching Johnny pace.

"You know what we need?" he said casually. "A little reminder. Something to shake the tree a bit."

Johnny stopped. "What kind of reminder?"

Michael shrugged with a glint in his eye. "Something that reminds the Valley what real karate looks like.
Fast. Loud. Unapologetic."

🐍

Demetri swung clumsily and missed the ball entirely, watching as it bounced and rolled into the dunes.

"Mulligan!" he shouted. "Send it back!"

Zeke caught the ball and rolled his eyes. "There's no mulligans in volleyball."

"Says you," Demetri muttered, brushing sand off his arms.

Hawk grunted, grabbing a bottle and heading for the shaded bench. Zeke followed, sweat glistening on his forehead. He looked over at Hawk, then nodded toward Demetri, who was still rambling to himself.

"Did you really have to bring this dipshit?" Zeke muttered under his breath.

Hawk didn't even look over. "Just spike the damn ball."

As they cooled off, a group of girls passed by. One of them, wearing a sporty blue bikini and mirrored sunglasses, glanced at Demetri's towel—which had the Cobra Kai logo plastered across it.

"'Cobra Kai'?" she said, tilting her head. "You guys won that karate tournament, right? The All Valley? The Rumble in Reseda?"

Demetri instantly perked up, putting on his most confident voice. "Yes. Uh... we, uh... we certainly did."

"Cool," another girl said, smiling. "We're gonna go for a swim, but maybe play with you later?"

Demetri tried to play it cool. "Most def. Uh, that means 'most definitely.'"

Zeke caught one of the girls checking him out. He shot her a half-smirk and nodded. She giggled.

Hawk raised an eyebrow. "Look at you, player."

Zeke shrugged, sipping from his bottle.

"But hey," Hawk added, "it'd be nice if you actually earned the Cobra Kai cred you're so happy to take. When are you ever gonna sign up?"

Zeke wiped his face with a towel. "Or not. I mean... you're not necessarily cut out for it."

Demetri blinked. "I think you're right. I'm kinda enjoying the gain without the pain."

Just then, Miguel jogged up toward them, his face serious.

"Hawk. Zeke."

Hawk grinned. "There's the man!"

Zeke nudged Miguel. "Did you tell him?"

Miguel folded his arms, eyes low.

Hawk's grin faded. "No. No more of this."

He gestured toward the beach.

"Look, it's a beautiful day out. The beach is packed with babes. No more sulking about Sam."

Miguel shook his head. "I'm not sulking about Sam. It's about Sensei."

Hawk's tone shifted. "This about his rap sheet? My parents read it online. I think it makes him more badass."

"It's not that," Miguel said quietly. "It's about him and Robby Keene."

Hawk's expression changed. Zeke's jaw clenched.

"My house," Zeke said. "Later."

🐍

Later that afternoon, the boys gathered in Zeke's room. Posters lined the walls—MMA champions, vintage boxing prints, and an old Cobra Kai banner that looked like it had been through war. Hawk had his phone out, scrolling furiously.

"I did a deep dive," he muttered, "and you were right. Sensei is definitely Keene's father."

Miguel sat on the edge of Zeke's bed, head down.

"I just don't understand why he wouldn't tell us."

Zeke leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "I don't know. But it explains why he's been giving me shit for kicking Keene's ass at the tournament." He scoffed. "Bitch. Show no mercy—unless it's his son."

Hawk rolled his eyes. "Then we gotta be pussies?"

The door suddenly burst open. Zeke's little sister, Sofia, stomped in holding a bowl.

"¿Qué carajos, Ezekiel? You left your dishes in the sink again. Mamá told you to clean—"

Zeke groaned. "Get out of my room, Sofia."

Sofia ignored him, eyeing Hawk's head. "Qué es eso? Your hair looks like a hedgehog tried to mate with a parrot."

Hawk narrowed his eyes. "What'd she say?"

"She said she loves it," Zeke lied with a smirk. He grabbed the nearest book and flung it toward the door. Sofia dodged and slammed it shut on her way out.

"I hate living with her," Zeke muttered.

🐍

"Inner peace, focus, balance. These are just some of the skills that you will master when you join Miyagi-Do Karate. I'm Daniel LaRusso, and before I was the number-one auto dealer in the Valley..."

Johnny slammed the laptop shut, then immediately flipped it back open, half in disbelief.

"...I was two-time All Valley Under-18 Champion."

Johnny muttered through clenched teeth, "What the hell?"

Behind him, Michael leaned against the wall with a paper cup of black coffee in his hand, watching with a smirk.

"Now, you can learn the secrets of Okinawan karate, true karate, by joining the Miyagi-Do team."

Johnny's face twisted with pure irritation.

"Don't be a snake in the grass. Be a champion."

Johnny snapped the laptop shut again. "Son of a bitch."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "Subtle."

Kreese stood nearby with his arms folded behind his back like a general watching war footage. "I should've taken care of that old bastard when I had the chance."

From the back corner of the dojo, one of the newer Cobra Kai recruits raised a hand.

"Wait, why are we paying for karate if this other guy's giving it away for free?"

Johnny's head whipped around, eyes sharp. "Because this," he gestured to the mat, the walls, the blood, "isn't some backyard gardening club. This is real karate."

Kreese stepped forward, his voice gravelly and full of venom. "This is an act of war. It demands an immediate response."

Michael took a slow sip of his coffee, unimpressed. "Or we could not declare war over a Facebook ad made by a guy standing in his backyard."

Kreese's stare narrowed. "That 'guy' has made a career out of undercutting us."

Michael nodded. "Sure. But letting it get under your skin? That's exactly what he wants."

Johnny stared out the dojo window, eyes full of fire. "No. I know what it needs. And I know exactly what I'm gonna do."

Michael tossed his empty cup into the trash and gave Johnny a sideways glance. "Just tell me it doesn't involve a flamethrower."

Johnny smirked slightly. "No promises."

🐍

There's a lot of talk going around the Valley about free karate," Johnny said, pacing slightly. "But everyone knows that in life, you get what you pay for."

Behind the camera, Aisha tried not to laugh as Johnny leaned in, delivering the next part of his speech with a cocky glint in his eye.

"You wanna really kick the competition? Then you need to get your ass over to Cobra Kai."

He jabbed the air for emphasis.

"Screw that lame meditation bullshit. What you need is bone-crunching, face-smashing, good ol' American karate."

The camera shook slightly as Aisha tried to steady her hands.

"Enough about self-defense. Learn self-offense! Don't be a pussy. Join Cobra Kai, and let me teach you the way of the fist."

Johnny threw one last punch at the air.

"And cut," he called out. "All right, did we get it?"

Aisha peeked out from behind the camera and gave a thumbs up. "I think so."

"Great," Johnny nodded, walking over. "Just make sure the Cobra Kai snake comes in at the end, all right? I want it to really pop. Make it chrome."

"Right," Aisha said, scribbling a note on her phone. "Chrome."

Johnny snapped his fingers. "Oh, and throw Thunderstruck under it."

Aisha squinted. "Pretty sure the rights to that song are gonna cost a ton."

Johnny looked offended. "No, no. I already own it. Cassette's in the car."

Aisha opened her mouth to reply, but Johnny kept going. "Oh, and put one of those hash browns at the end—you know, like, 'Hash brown, Team Cobra Kai' or something. Then send it to the Internet!"

He walked off triumphantly, clearly convinced his commercial was going to go viral.

🐍

Michael leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he watched the class train. His gaze was steady, but the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly at Johnny's antics. He had come to understand that Johnny's style was chaotic—but sometimes, chaos worked.

That's when Hawk, Miguel, and Zeke approached him from the mat area, walking past other students as they exchanged uncertain glances.

Miguel stepped forward. "Sensei, can we talk to you about something?"

Johnny, just returning from his office, wiped his hands on a towel and raised a brow. "Look, if it's about the infomercial, I know—"

"It's not about the commercial," Miguel said quickly.

Zeke crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. "It's about Robby Keene."

Johnny froze.

"What about him?" he said, voice flat.

Miguel looked hesitant. "I saw his picture on your refrigerator. I wasn't snooping or anything... but we know he's your son."

"And is that why you chewed me out for beating his ass?" Zeke added, eyes challenging.

Johnny's tone grew sharper. "Is that what you think?"

Hawk opened his mouth, then promptly closed it, unsure.

"Yeah, Robby's my son," Johnny admitted finally, his voice low. "But that has nothing to do with how I run my dojo. It's also none of your damn business. Do you understand?"

Zeke scoffed. "Is it really, though? No Mercy—unless it's your fucking kid?"

Johnny stepped forward, his voice suddenly booming. "Quiet! Now is that understood?"

Zeke's jaw tightened. "Yes, Sensei."

Miguel tried to speak up. "But Sensei, I—"

"'But' nothing!" Johnny barked. "Get out. You three clean mats for the rest of the week."

Zeke muttered under his breath, storming off toward the back of the dojo. "This is fucking bullshit."

From the corner, Michael watched the exchange, not intervening. His eyes followed Zeke's frustrated retreat until his son finally circled back toward him, shoulders tight with restrained anger.

Michael stepped into his path. "What's the matter?"

Zeke didn't answer directly. He gave a sideways nod instead, walking over to where Hawk had already started practicing kata.

"I'm fine," he said curtly, grabbing his gi belt and tightening it with purpose. "Let's train."

Hawk raised a brow, then nodded, the two dropping into a sparring stance as the tension in the room slowly shifted back to the rhythm of combat.

🐍

Johnny approached the front door and stopped when he saw Homeless Lynn crouched near the stairs.

"Can you just be homeless somewhere else?" Johnny asked with a groan.

Lynn raised an eyebrow, then flashed a crooked smile. "You takin' me home, baby?"

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you wish."

Just then, Michael stepped out of the side lot, suited despite the heat, sipping a black coffee he clearly didn't enjoy. He raised a brow at the exchange.

"Need me to have someone escort her off the property?" Michael asked dryly. "I could make one call. City owes me a few favors."

Johnny shot him a look. "She's fine. Just part of the landscape at this point."

Michael chuckled lightly, then gestured toward the door. "Can we talk?"

Johnny hesitated. "If this is about what happened in the office-"

Michael cut in smoothly. "Look, I'm not trying to lecture you. But maybe you wanna reconsider snapping at my kid."

Johnny turned away toward the parking lot, jaw tightening. "I don't wanna talk about it. Just tell Zeke to mind his business."

Michael followed, not quite ready to let it go. "Is this about the Keene kid? Him being your son?"

Johnny stopped short, glaring. "How did you—"

"I'm not an idiot, Johnny." Michael's tone wasn't smug, just matter-of-fact. "The way you ran up to him at the tournament? The resemblance? Plus, I did a little research. I'm a lawyer. Background checks are like second nature."

Johnny sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Great. Now I gotta watch out for your whole family being up in my business."

Michael held his hands up. "Relax. I don't care and I'm not going to pry. Honestly, it's not my fight. But your son training with LaRusso?" He raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't exactly look good for you."

Before Johnny could respond, the dojo door creaked open and Kreese stepped out.

"Not sure how you put up with that," Kreese said, nodding toward the open floor where some students were stretching. "You should be training that boy."

Johnny clenched his jaw. "Hey, it's never gonna happen, all right?"

Kreese smirked, as if he knew better. "Never say 'never.' I never thought I'd see Cobra Kai again in my life. Took my best student to remind me anything's possible."

He let that statement hang a little too long before adding with a cold smile, "I guess it's good you still got that Mexican."

Johnny's voice snapped. "Miguel's from Ecuador."

Kreese shrugged. "Six of one."

Johnny's eyes narrowed.

Kreese turned slightly toward the street, voice turning quieter, more calculating. "Better hope LaRusso doesn't sink his mitts into him. Kid's got potential, and Danny boy's all about collecting strays."

Michael, standing beside them with his arms folded, finally spoke up again.

"Zeke and Robby fighting in the same dojo?" he mused. "Kind of like the old days, huh?"

Johnny gave him a side glance.

"But my Dad's right," Michael continued. "You wait too long, and LaRusso's gonna scoop Miguel out from under you. That's what happens when you let personal feelings cloud leadership."

Johnny didn't answer. His gaze drifted toward the glass window of the dojo, where Miguel was now leading stretches with the younger Cobras.

🐍

The house was calm, lit by the soft glow of evening. Diana stood by the sink, rinsing out the last of the dinner dishes, humming under her breath as the smell of arroz con pollo still lingered faintly in the air. Sofia sat at the table, hunched over her science workbook, her tongue sticking out slightly in concentration.

The front door clicked open. Michael stepped in, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, the faint scent of the dojo—sweat, mats, and must—still clinging to him. He set the bag down and walked into the kitchen, pressing a kiss to his wife's cheek.

"Smells better than anything I had to deal with all day," he said with a smirk.

Diana rolled her eyes fondly, flicking water at him. "Well, maybe next time you get home in time to eat it hot, Miguelito."

Michael chuckled. "Where's the boy?"

Diana's tone shifted just slightly, a small note of concern creeping in. "Está abajo. Desde que llegamos, no ha parado de darle al saco." She dried her hands with a towel and sighed. "He won't talk to me. Just keeps working that bag like it pissed him off."

Michael nodded, rubbing his jaw. "Rough day at the dojo," he muttered, and made his way downstairs.

The basement was dim, lit by a single overhead bulb. Zeke stood shirtless in front of the heavy bag, his fists wrapped, sweat glistening across his shoulders. With a loud grunt, he slammed another strike into the leather, the bag rocking violently.

Michael leaned against the doorway for a moment, arms crossed. "You planning on putting that bag in the hospital, or just making it cry uncle?"

Zeke didn't look up. "Depends. You here to tell me to stop too?"

Michael walked in slowly. "No. Just here to check in."

Zeke hit the bag again, then let his fists rest against it. "He singled me out. After all that shit he's preached about no mercy, he blows up on me—for doing exactly what he said."

Michael took a breath, choosing his words carefully. "You're talking about Johnny."

Zeke turned, frustration burning in his eyes. "He didn't yell at Miguel. Or Hawk. Just me. Because I took down his precious son."

Michael nodded. "I figured that's what this was about."

Zeke scoffed. "So what—no mercy unless it's your own kid?"

Michael took a step closer. "Zeke... it's not that simple. Johnny and Robby's relationship is—complicated. Messy. You know how you've always had your mom and me? A house, support, food, stability? Robby didn't have that. He grew up with a dad who wasn't around. And Johnny... well, he's not perfect. Hell, he's made a lot of mistakes."

Zeke didn't say anything, his breathing still heavy.

Michael continued, calmly. "That tournament? Maybe you were just doing your job, fighting your fight. But think about it from his point of view. His kid's in the ring getting beaten by his student. That's not just a match to him—it's personal. Maybe he snapped. Doesn't mean he was right. Doesn't mean he doesn't respect you."

Zeke's jaw tightened. "So what, I'm supposed to just take the L because his life was harder?"

"No," Michael said firmly. "I'm saying that sometimes, the better man's the one who knows when to let something go. It's okay to be pissed. But don't let it eat you up."

Zeke leaned against the bag, silent.

Michael gave it a beat, then added with a slight grin, "Besides, you didn't exactly hold back. I think Johnny got the message."

A small smirk cracked through Zeke's frown.

Michael ruffled his son's damp hair. "You good?"

Zeke sighed, nodding. "Yeah. I guess."

There was a pause.

"Where's Gramps?"

Michael turned toward the stairs. "He's getting prepped for ValleyFest. Wanted us to meet him there. You in?"

Zeke looked at the bag, then back at his dad. "Yeah... sure. What the hell."

🐍

Michael and Diana were chatting with some old friends by a booth, their voices blending into the background noise. Sofia sat nearby, nursing a soda and half-listening while scrolling her phone.

Zeke, meanwhile, had dipped out on his own. He'd wandered off through the crowd, hoodie half-zipped and the Cobra Kai logo visible on his chest. He wasn't looking for anyone in particular—just walking, burning off the last edge of irritation from earlier at the dojo.

That's when he bumped into someone.

Hard.

"Watch it," the girl snapped, stepping back.

Zeke blinked, recovering fast. "You were the one not looking, dumbass."

Her eyebrow lifted. "Excuse me?"

They both looked at each other then—really looked. She was around his age, dark eyes sharp, messy ponytail swinging over one shoulder. She was cute. No—more than that. She was bold. Confident. She didn't blink.

Then her eyes dropped to his chest.

"Nice shirt," she said, smirking slightly.

Zeke glanced down. "Didn't wear it to impress you."

"Good," she said. "You didn't."

But her tone said otherwise.

Zeke half-laughed under his breath. "Most people see this and walk the other way."

She shrugged. "I don't scare that easy."

Zeke tilted his head. "Yeah. I kind of figured."

A kid came up beside her—a little boy, maybe her brother—tugging at her wrist.

"Can we go now? You said cotton candy."

"In a second, Brandon" she told him, eyes still on Zeke.

Zeke crossed his arms, watching her. "You always this charming when you run into strangers?"

"Only the ones dumb enough to get in my way," she replied. Then, a small pause. "But... maybe not all of them."

Zeke grinned. "That a compliment?"

She turned slightly, starting to walk off. "Call it whatever you want."

Zeke let her get a few steps ahead before calling after her. "You gonna tell me your name?"

She turned just enough to flash him a smirk over her shoulder. "Maybe next time."

And then she was gone, disappearing into the crowd with her little brother, her ponytail bouncing behind her.

Zeke stood there a moment longer, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He never got her name.

But he definitely wanted to.

🐍

Zeke leaned back against a fence near one of the booths, cotton candy lights spinning behind his head. His mind wandered—more than it usually did. He kept thinking about her. That girl from earlier.

The one who called him a dumbass and then walked off like she owned the place.

He didn't even get her name.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Miguel: Yo you at Valley Fest?
Meet us near the entrance. Now.

Zeke's brow furrowed. He pocketed the phone and started walking. Whatever this was, it had Miguel's energy written all over it.

When he got to the entrance, he saw them, Hawk, Miguel, Aisha, a couple of new Cobras—all of them already in their gi's. Johnny stood nearby, arms crossed, surveying the stage ahead where Daniel LaRusso was prepping a Miyagi-Do demonstration with Sam and Robby. The LaRussos were calm. Too calm.

Zeke raised a brow. "Wait. Are we about to—?"

Johnny handed him a black gi.

"I know I chewed you out earlier," Johnny muttered, his voice low but firm. "Wasn't about you. That was my shit. We good?"

Zeke shrugged. "Whatever. You need me, I'm here."

Johnny gave a short nod. "Then suit up. We're about to take this show back."

Onstage, Daniel smiled to the crowd.

"And now, for the grand finale—"

The sound system glitched, flickered.

Then the chant started.

"Cobra Kai!"
"Cobra Kai!"
"Cobra Kai!"

The crowd turned. Stage lights panned hard right.

Lined up in formation, gi's crisp and black under the glow, were the students of Cobra Kai—led by Zeke, Miguel, and Hawk. They ran together toward the second stage, chanting louder with every step.

"COBRA KAI! COBRA KAI!"

Daniel froze. "What the hell is going on here?"

Backstage, Kreese stood near the lighting guy.

"More sparks," he said coolly.

The lights surged again.

Johnny stepped forward near the stage. "Cobras, show them what real karate looks like."

Then the music hit. Fast, electric.

One by one, the Cobras launched into their demonstration—side kicks, tornado spins, power punches. Boards smashed. Aisha and Hawk flipped off raised platforms, landing in unison. Miguel's strikes were sharp and fast.

Zeke lit one of the demo boards, the flame licking the edge before he punched straight through it.

The crowd gasped. Then they erupted.

"YEAH!"
"Let's go!"
"Right here!"
"COBRA KAI!"

Johnny's voice rang out.

"Cobras—light it up!"

More boards ignited.

Zeke and Miguel broke a flaming board mid-air in a synchronized strike.

The crowd chanted now, no hesitation:

"Cobra Kai! Cobra Kai! Cobra Kai!"

LaRusso's students looked on, stunned. Sam's jaw was tight. Robby glared. Daniel tried to hide his disbelief, but his expression said everything.

Michael, standing in the back near Diana and their friends, didn't say a word. He just smirked.

The Cobras stood side by side at the end of the demonstration, lined up in their stance. Breathing heavy, fire behind them, smoke rising. Champions, in that moment.

Miguel stepped closer to Johnny, beaming. "You did it, Sensei."

Johnny shook his head, eyes locked on the cheering crowd. "No... we did it."

Zeke glanced over at the LaRussos walking off the stage—Daniel, Amanda, Sam, Robby—all stiff and silent, heads down, surrounded by thunderous chants for a dojo they thought was finished.

He cracked a smile.

Fuck yes.