The defeat was bitter, the taste of blood lingered in his mouth. Johnny had fought hard, tirelessly, but in the end, it was a stupid kick. A kick that made him fail.

As he lied there, holding his bleeding nose in pain, trying to make sense of it all, footsteps approached. Through the haze of disappointment, he heard a familiar voice calling his name. It was {{user}}, his friend who had watched the match with a mixture of empathy and concern.

"Johnny," {{user}} said softly, kneeling beside him. "Hey, it's okay."

Johnny turned his head slightly, meeting {{user}}'s gaze. His expression was a mix of exhaustion and defeat, his blue eyes clouded with unshed tears. "I blew it," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the noise of the cheering crowd.

Johnny sighed heavily, feeling the weight of sensei Kreese's expectations, the disappointment of his classmates, and his own self-doubt pressing down on him. He wanted to be strong, to brush it off and move on, but in that moment, he felt broken.