Saturday – 12:14 PM — Johnny's Apartment
The sun was already beating hard on the windows when Rio arrived at the building. He had gotten up late, took a shower, ate something quickly, and went straight to Johnny's door, hoping to find Miguel there.
Knock knock.
He waited a few seconds. Something could be heard inside. Shuffling steps. Finally, the door opened.
It was Johnny. Wrinkled shirt, deep bags under his eyes, and a beer in his hand. But awake.
"Rio… how's everything going?"
"Where's Miguel? Is he feeling better?"
Johnny nodded, stepping aside.
"He's on the couch. He fell asleep a while ago."
Rio stepped in slowly, looking around. The place smelled of dust, beer, and the past. Miguel was there, with a blanket over him, breathing calmly. Beaten, yes… but alive.
"He looks messed up —Rio said, in a low voice."
Johnny stood there, back leaning against the door. He looked at him with a mix of complicity and respect.
"Hey, Rio. I know it was you. The thing with that kid's car."
Rio raised an eyebrow. Said nothing.
"Just wanted to say… well done" Johnny said, taking a sip of his beer without looking away.
Rio gave a small smile.
"Thanks."
A short silence followed. The kind where a lot is said without saying anything.
"You know, when Miguel's mom sees him like this… she's going to tell him to quit karate, right?"
"I know" Johnny admitted. "But I'm going to try to convince her. I don't want to give up on the dojo. Not on you. Not on Miguel."
Johnny's Apartment – Later That Afternoon
"Hey, Miguel. Wake up" I said, nudging his shoulder slightly.
"Five more minutes, yaya…" he answered half asleep, his voice dragging.
"Wake up, dumbass!" I said louder, tapping his chest.
Miguel's eyes shot open.
"What's going on, Rio?"
"How are you feeling? What hurts?"
He took a few seconds to think before moving a hand to his stomach.
"My abdomen… that's where they hit me the most with the lacrosse sticks" he said, grimacing.
"Shit, man…" I shook my head. "You know you need to recover fast, get back to the dojo and this time… beat the crap out of Kyler. Seriously."
Miguel just nodded, still in pain but with that spark coming back to his eyes.
A couple of hours passed. Sensei and I figured it was time to take him home. Even though he had slept a bit, his bed was better than that hard couch full of empty cans and the rancid smell of beer.
"Come on, up" I said, putting my arm around his shoulders to help him up.
We walked slowly, climbed the stairs, until we got to the Diaz apartment. I knocked on the door. It opened after just a few seconds.
And then… Carmen saw him.
"Miguel!" she exclaimed, horrified at the sight of her son's face. She didn't even give him a chance to speak.
It was like dropping a bomb.
"What the hell happened to him?!" she shouted, immediately turning toward Johnny, who was walking behind us.
"Carmen, wait…"
"Ever since he started hanging out with you he's come home with bruises, what the hell are you doing to my son" she yelled, unable to hold back, full of rage and fear.
Miguel tried to calm her down.
"Mom, wait… it wasn't his fault. Seriously."
But Carmen wouldn't listen to reason. Her eyes were red, her voice filled with fury.
"Enough! Get in, Miguel! And you, Johnny… don't come near us again!"
Johnny didn't respond. He didn't need to. What he had to say he already knew. He stood there for a second, watching as Carmen slammed the door shut. Then he turned and left without a word.
I didn't say anything either. I just gave Miguel one last "take care" look and went back home. I didn't want anything else that night. Just… sleep.
Johnny's Point of View – Later That Night
I came home alone. Closed the door and everything was silent, except my head.
The floor still had blood-stained bandages. Towels with dried remnants. Dirty shoe prints. The whole chaotic scene was still there, a physical reminder of what had happened. I stood there, staring at them. Thinking about every blow Miguel took.
I blamed myself.
For not teaching him enough.
For not being there when he needed me.
For not preparing him.
I hated myself for that.
And then there was him. Daniel LaRusso. Always showing up. At the dance while I was putting up my flyers, he was there. Always there, like my damn shadow, as if the universe wouldn't let me live in peace. Always with that champion's smile, as if reminding me every day that I came in second.
I went to the fridge. Grabbed a beer. Drank it in one go. Then another. And another. I wasn't thinking. Just doing.
When the beer ran out, I went out to get more. Walked through the streets of Reseda, drinking straight from the can, eyes lost.
And that's when I saw it.
The giant billboard.
Daniel's. On the main street.
Him, smiling that advertising smile, that perfect pose, that damn car slogan.
I hated it.
Not the sign. Not the face. What it represented.
Perfect. Champion. Role model. Untouchable.
Near the sign, a young guy was painting a mural. He had spray cans and huge headphones. I staggered over.
"Hey, kid…" I said, pointing at the can in his hand. "Mind if we make a trade?"
The guy took off his headphones and looked at me weird.
"What trade?"
I held out two beer cans.
"For your red spray paint."
The guy hesitated a second. Then smiled and handed it over.
"Be careful what you do, old man."
"Yeah, yeah, don't worry."
Minutes later, I was climbing the side ladder of the billboard like I was twenty again. No one saw me. It was late. Didn't matter.
I sat on the structure, opened the paint can, and started to "create".
Right on Daniel's face.
A giant penis. Perfectly drawn. Right into his mouth.
I laughed to myself. Like a kid.
As if the world had stopped and only that little victory existed.
"Take that, you damn champion!" I shouted, laughing.
And in that moment, as pathetic as it seemed…
I felt better.
Sunday – 5:00 AM
The alarm rang with a sharp, steady beep.
It wasn't Monday. No school.
But I was already awake.
After seeing what they did to Miguel, something inside me lit up.
It wasn't guilt.
It was fire.
A kind of quiet anger that isn't shouted… it's trained.
I put on workout clothes, drank some water, adjusted my headphones and went out.
Destination: the beach.
Reseda Beach – 5:40 AM
The breeze was cold. The sand, damp.
The sky was still dark blue, with an orange line at the bottom, announcing the coming sun.
I started running.
Heavy steps. Soft sand. Every stride was a punishment to the legs.
I'd heard that running on the beach forges you. That it makes your steps stronger, firmer. That it's not about speed… but endurance.
I ran until 8:00.
Sweat in my eyes. Sand in my shoes. Breathing burning my throat.
I passed several runners, but I didn't see them.
With my headphones on, I was in my own world.
My fight was internal.
My body protested, but my mind pushed it:
"More. Don't stop. One more."
9:00 AM – Outside the Building
I got home, getting off the bike with tense muscles and a soaked shirt.
Johnny was there, leaning against the building wall with an open beer even though it was just morning. He looked at me without surprise, like he knew I'd show up like that.
"Morning, Rio" he said, looking me up and down. "Training early?"
"Something like that" I answered, taking off my gloves, still panting.
I got closer.
"What's Miguel said? How's he doing?"
"Nothing yet. He hasn't left his house. But let's hope he recovers" Johnny replied, taking a sip.
There was a short pause.
"You can come to the dojo to train tomorrow if you want" he added calmly. "The door will be open."
I nodded without thinking.
"Yeah, I'll stop by after school. See you."
I said goodbye with a slight gesture and went inside.
Sunday Afternoon – Rio's Apartment
The rest of the day was mine.
I watched a couple of old movies, played some music, and shadowboxed in front of the bedroom mirror, throwing punches with wrapped hands, correcting my stance, focusing my breathing.
Every now and then, I checked my phone.
The networks were still blowing up.
Kyler's car was still trending.
Photos, gossip, conspiracy theories. Some took it as a joke. Others as justice. But no one had a clear clue. No name. No face.
Monday – Next Day
I got up early and first stopped by Miguel's apartment. Knocked calmly. His mom answered, looking like she hadn't slept well.
"Miguel's going to take a few more days" she said dryly, but without aggression. Just worried.
"Alright, I understand. Tell him I said hi" I replied with a small nod, and left.
I hopped on the bike and headed to school. The sun was already high, but the air was still cool. As soon as I reached the entrance, I saw Dimitri and Eli waiting by the gates.
"What's up, guys?" I said, getting off the bike and bumping fists with them.
"How's Miguel?" Dimitri asked, more serious than usual.
"He's alright, but it's going to take a while. He took quite a beating."
We went inside the building. The morning passed calmly. A tense calm, the kind that smells like something's about to blow. Kyler was still the same idiot as always, throwing smug looks and shoving the quiet ones.
His wrecked car didn't seem to faze him at all.
Sam and him… closer every day. More silly laughs, more arm touches, more "you look cute today" between classes. Almost pathetic.
Close to lunch, I noticed something strange. A group of students on the stairs making pig noises, grunting, with laughter. I turned to see who they were aimed at.
A girl was walking down the steps with her head down, her backpack hanging from one shoulder. I recognized her from afar, though we'd never spoken.
"What's going on? Why are they doing that?" I asked Eli, who was standing off to the side.
"At the dance… Yasmin posted a video of her" he told me quietly. "Put a pig nose and ears on her while she was eating. Sent it to the whole school."
I looked at the girl again. She was alone. No one spoke up for her.
"What's her name?"
"Aisha, I think. Why?"
"Nothing important."
I stepped away from the group and walked straight toward her. At that moment, Sam was also approaching. We got there almost at the same time.
"Aisha, people have short memories. They'll forget soon" Sam said, trying to smile.
Aisha lifted her gaze, eyes full of rage.
"Yeah, Sam… but I won't. I'll remember this for the rest of my life" she said, voice tense.
"Aisha, right?" I stepped in, calm.
She looked at me with suspicion.
"What do you want? Are you here to make fun of me too?"
"No. Don't worry. I'm Río Álvarez" I said, handing her a flyer. "I came to invite you to the Cobra Kai dojo. If you ever get tired of being everyone's joke… go. There they'll teach you how to defend yourself. And more importantly: how not to lower your head."
Aisha took the flyer hesitantly. She read it. Didn't say anything… but she was thinking about it.
Then, Sam stepped in.
"Aisha, don't join. My dad says Cobra Kai is for thugs… bad people. It's not going to be good for you.
I turned to Sam.
"And your friends, what are they then? The good ones?"
That shut her up.
Aisha pressed her lips together, then snatched the flyer back from Sam, who had taken it.
"It's my decision. Not yours" she said without looking at her, and walked away with the flyer in hand.
I stayed there, watching her walk away, with a firm step.
After lunch – Chemistry class
We went back to class. Nothing out of the ordinary. Chemistry. It wasn't as boring as other times. The teacher talked about compounds, bonds, and those things no one would remember tomorrow.
As soon as I sat down in my seat, I heard a familiar voice next to me.
"Where were you? I looked for you, but I couldn't find you after you left."
I turned. Jade. Same serious look, dark eyeliner, tone somewhere between bored and annoyed, like the world always bothered her.
"Had an emergency" I replied, pulling out my notebook. "Nothing serious. I had to leave quickly."
She looked at me sideways, with that expression that didn't say whether she believed me or not.
"I wanted to dance with you a bit more" she blurted out, just like that, no beating around the bush.
I looked up and smiled.
"That means… you're inviting me to the next dance?"
"I don't know. Maybe" she said, shrugging indifferently, but without taking her eyes off me.
"Noted" I replied with a smile as I opened the notebook.
She looked back to the front like nothing happened. But her lips showed a barely visible smile.
Monday – 4:27 PM – Cobra Kai Dojo
After school, like I had promised, I went straight to the dojo. I took off my backpack, hung my jacket on the coat rack by the entrance, and walked on the tatami still with some tiredness in my legs.
Johnny was there, sitting on a metal folding chair, drinking from a water bottle while writing something in an old, battered notebook. When he heard me come in, he looked up.
"You're here, finally. Today we're going to work on what almost nobody wants: control, precision… and kicks. Let's see if you're not all talk and can actually move those street-boxer legs" he said, getting up.
"We'll see, sensei" I replied, smiling a bit, stretching my arms.
"Warm up while I set up the dummy."
I moved to the corner of the tatami, got into position, and started stretching. Ankles. Hips. Neck. Slow breathing. The air in the dojo had that smell, a mix of sweat, cheap cleaner, and old leather. But it had something else: weight. Like the place breathed with you.
Johnny dragged the training dummy to the center. It was made of hard plastic, torso without arms, marked with black marker by some previous generation.
"Alright. Listen" Johnny said, getting into position in front of the dummy. "There's a difference between throwing a kick and placing a kick where it matters."
He planted his feet firmly. Spread his legs slightly, raised his guard. Took a deep breath.
"First, the basics. Mae Geri. Front kick. It's not just about lifting the leg and pushing. It's about momentum, hip lock, control."
He raised his right knee as if charging energy, and suddenly, whap!, launched a direct kick to the dummy's abdomen. Precise. Clean.
"See? No wobbling. No dramatics. Just impact."
I nodded.
"Now you."
I took his position. Left leg forward. Calm breathing. I raised my knee, launched.
"Higher! And with intent, dammit!" Johnny yelled. "You're not swatting a fly, you're getting someone out of your way."
"Again" I said, more focused.
This time I focused. Steady knee. Locked hip. And boom, kick.
"That was better. Not perfect, but we're getting there. Now... Yoko Geri. Side kick. Way more technical. It's not just turning. It's transferring weight without losing balance."
Johnny turned with unexpected grace for his age and size. His leg flew straight and struck the side of the dummy. The sound was hollow but firm.
"Here your center of gravity matters. Without it, you hit the floor or kick air."
I got into position, reviewed what he said, and gave it a try.
I turned, but the leg didn't come out with the height I wanted.
"Stop. You're spinning like a ballerina, not a fighter. Repeat just the turn, no kick."
I did. Once. Twice. Three times. Johnny came over, grabbed my hips with both hands, and adjusted my stance.
"There. Feel the weight on your supporting leg. The other one's not coming up because you don't trust your base."
I took a deep breath. One more.
I turned. This time, the leg flew cleaner. The hit was sharp.
"That was a good one!" Johnny said, giving a small jump. "Now combine both. Front. Side. Front. Side. I want rhythm, I want repetition."
I spent the next twenty minutes throwing kicks in sequence. Mae geri. Yoko geri. Mae geri. Yoko geri.
My legs burned. Sweat ran down my back. The dummy seemed to mock me.
"I know it hurts. You think champions only train when they feel good? Legs don't get built on the couch!" Johnny yelled like a coach in an '80s movie.
I took a brief break while he demonstrated a smoother combo: front kick, side kick, full spin with another kick a ushiro geri, back kick and ended in perfect position.
"You don't have to get there today, but that's the path."
"I'll try."
"Don't try. Do it" he corrected me.
I went back to the dummy. Repeated the sequence. Not as clean. Not as precise. But stronger. More determined.
After nearly an hour of repetitions, stretching between rounds, and corrections, Johnny sat back down in the chair.
"You've got a good foundation, Río. Better than most. What you're missing is something no one teaches: hunger."
"Hunger?"
"Yeah. To fight. To improve. To show that you won't break. We all have something that brought us to this. Karate isn't taught, it's survived. And if you survive, you master it."
I stayed silent for a moment. Then nodded.
"Sensei?"
"What?"
"Can you do the full combo again? The one with the three kicks front, side, and the spinning one.
Johnny stood up, a bit confused.
"Again? Why? You've already seen it three times."
"It's for recording. A video."
Johnny frowned.
"Video? What for?"
"Promotion. Advertising the dojo. Social media."
"Social what?"
"Forget it. Just... do it, and I'll handle the rest."
Johnny sighed, resigned.
"You're crazy, but alright. Tell me when."
I stepped back a few feet, took out my phone, set it to camera mode, framed the angle, and hit "record."
"Ready, sensei! Go whenever you want."
Johnny took a deep breath. Got into position again in front of the dummy.
"Front. Side. Back. One breath."
And then he did it.
Mae geri, fast and strong.
Yoko geri, precise, elegant.
Full spin and ushiro geri, brutal, sharp. The dummy wobbled.
All in less than ten seconds.
"Done!" I said, stopping the recording. "It was perfect."
Johnny went back to his chair, sweaty, with one hand on his back.
"You're going to kill me with your craziness, Álvarez."
"But it'll look epic on the internet."
"Epic." And what does that mean now?"
"It means more kids will come. More attention. More students."
Johnny drank water and muttered:
"As long as they're not clowns."
Time skip
It had been a week since the last serious training with Johnny, and during those days, no matter the exhaustion, the weather, or school duties, Río didn't miss a single day at the dojo. He trained every day after school, arrived on time, changed in silence, and got to work like he had something to prove, even though no one asked him to. He ran in the mornings, even before dawn, and had turned his routine into a personal discipline. It was no longer just training for the sake of it, it was pushing his body to be ready, because after seeing what they had done to Miguel, he understood that it wasn't about knowing how to fight, it was about being ready when the time came.
During the week, he also kept exchanging words with Jade. It wasn't formal or forced, they just spent more time together: in class, in the hallways, or between periods. The connection between them was building little by little, through sarcastic comments, long glances, and comfortable silences. Meanwhile, Río also visited Miguel almost every day. He brought homework or just sat and chatted for a while. Miguel no longer had bandages or ice on his face; his voice sounded stronger and his jokes were starting to flow naturally again. He wasn't ready to train yet, but his spirit was clearly returning.
The dojo was still standing, though it hadn't taken off yet. Many people stopped by, asked about classes, said they'd come back, but in the end, no one truly committed. The videos on social media helped, but it seemed like the spark needed to push them through the door was still missing. Still, Johnny stood firm, and so did Río.
That Monday, Johnny called Río into his makeshift office at the back of the dojo. The place was small, with a folding table, an old coffee maker, and a coat rack with several black bags hanging. Johnny, without saying much, got up, walked to the rack, and took one out.
"Look what came in" he said, carefully unrolling the contents of the bag.
They were several black gis, perfectly folded, with the Cobra Kai logo embroidered on the front and the black belt neatly rolled around the waist. They were new, you could tell by the fresh fabric smell and intense color.
"I told you that when they arrived, I'd give you one. Well, here it is. You earned it."
Río took the uniform with respect. It wasn't just any garment, it was a symbol. The fabric felt firm, thick, like it didn't forgive mistakes. He nodded and packed it in his backpack like he was receiving armor.
"What about the others?" —he asked.
"Only for those who deserve it. You're in. I'll give them to the others when I see they're serious."
Río just replied with a "thanks, sensei," and went back to training.
Finally, Wednesday arrived. It was one of those days where everything seems routine until something changes. At the school entrance, while students walked as usual between lockers, Miguel showed up. He came in calmly, backpack on one shoulder, a slight smile and a firm step. He no longer looked weak, slow, or in pain. He was completely recovered.
Dimitri was the first to see him.
"Miguel!" he shouted from his locker, raising his hand to greet him.
Eli reacted too, walking quickly to catch up.
"Hey! What a miracle! Can you walk now without looking like Robocop?"
Miguel laughed and fist bumped both.
"Yeah, I feel brand new. And I don't walk like a robot anymore."
Río arrived a few seconds later, coming down the stairs with his backpack over his shoulder.
"Look at this! The warrior's back!"
Miguel greeted him with a strong fist bump.
"All good, man?" Río asked.
"All good. I'm ready to return to the dojo. I'm showing up tomorrow."
Río nodded with a smile.
Perfect. Because the sensei won't go easy on you.
"That's what I want. I want to kick again" Miguel replied, more determined than ever.
And so, among greetings and jokes, Miguel returned to school. But it was clear something had changed in him.
Thursday – 4:36 PM – Cobra Kai Dojo
The sun was strong that afternoon, but inside the dojo, the air was cool thanks to the new AC we installed weeks ago. The tatami shined, clean. The new LED lights gave a feeling that the place, although small, was serious. Purposeful.
I was already inside, wearing the gi for the first time. Black, snug. It felt strange at first, like it wasn't mine yet, but at the same time… it fit.
Johnny stood in front of the dummy, delivering slow but firm strikes, correcting technique. The hollow sound of the impact was the only thing heard, until the dojo door swung open.
Miguel walked in.
He didn't say anything at first. Just stepped in, stood with his backpack over his shoulder, and looked around. He took a deep breath, like he needed to absorb the atmosphere.
Johnny noticed and turned around.
"Look who came back from the dead!" he said with a mocking smile.
"About time" I added, walking toward him.
Miguel dropped his backpack and stepped closer.
"I'm ready, sensei. Stronger than before."
Johnny nodded.
"I hope so. Because I won't go easy on you."
"I don't want you to."
Johnny nodded again, more serious this time. He looked him up and down.
"When you earn your gi back, I'll give it to you. Today, train in gym clothes. Earn it again."
Miguel didn't argue. He just took off his jacket and went straight to warm up, as if he'd never left.
I went back to my movements. Miguel on the other side of the tatami, repeating kicks with more care than strength, but without fear.
A few minutes later, the dojo door opened again.
Johnny didn't even look.
"Closed for spectators. The yoga class is later" he said without looking.
"I came to train" a firm voice responded.
I turned my head.
It was Aisha.
She wore the most basic workout outfit she could find: gray sweatpants, black t-shirt with no logo. Her hair tied in a tight ponytail and a hard look in her eyes.
Johnny looked up, slightly surprised.
"And You are…?"
"Aisha. I came because I'm tired of being treated like I don't matter."
Johnny looked at her for a second longer, then gestured her inside.
"Then come in. If Cobra Kai didn't accept women before, I'll make an exception. Just don't come complaining the training's too hard for you" Johnny said.
She nodded and entered, letting the door close behind her.
Miguel and I exchanged a quick glance. He nodded, like saying "good for her," and we kept training. Johnny approached Aisha and gave her basic instructions: how to stand, how to hold her hands, how to throw a punch without breaking her thumb. She absorbed everything silently, without complaint, eyes locked on every movement.
Before long, she was hitting the dummy harder than expected. No technique yet, but with drive. A lot.
Johnny smiled, satisfied.
"Better than a lot of idiots I've seen around here."
"Is that a compliment?" Aisha asked.
"To me, it is" Johnny replied, patting her on the shoulder." Welcome to Cobra Kai."
That day's class wasn't long, but it was intense. No motivational talk. No speeches. Just technique, breathing, and sweat.
When it ended, Johnny made us line up at the front of the dojo. Miguel on one side, me on the other, and Aisha at the end. He looked at us with arms crossed.
"Now the good stuff begins. I've got soldiers now, not beginners. Get ready. Cobra Kai is going to grow, and those who are here first… will be the ones setting the pace."
I looked at Miguel, breathing hard but proud. Aisha, fists clenched, stared at the logo on the wall: Strike First. Strike Hard. No Mercy.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆