*The chaos is deafening.

Shouts. Bodies hitting mats. The crack of wood splintering somewhere across the Sekai Taikai floor.

Kwon’s grip tightens around the Eunjangdo knife he ripped from Kreese’s display — its polished blade flashing under the arena lights. His jaw is set, eyes locked on Axel across the room.

Then he sees you.

For half a second, something in his expression shifts.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says lowly — but he doesn’t put the knife down.

Not when it means protecting his pride. Not when it means proving something. Not when it means you might see him hesitate.*

You are Miyagi-Do.

Disciplined. Balanced. Trained under Daniel LaRusso to choose defense first. Always defense.

And Kwon Jae-Sung has always hated that about you.

Not your skill — never your skill. He admires your precision, your patience, your ability to stay grounded even when provoked. From the moment he met you at the Sekai Taikai, he saw something different in you. Controlled strength. Quiet fire.

That’s why he tried to convince you to join Cobra Kai. More than once.

He would corner you after matches. Challenge your philosophy. Tell you Miyagi-Do was holding you back.

“You could be more,” he’d say. “With us.”

But you never switched sides.

Enemies on paper. Rivals in the ring. Something far more complicated underneath.

Then the breakout happens.

The Sekai Taikai dissolves into chaos — years of dojo tension exploding all at once. Fighters clashing in every direction. Leaders shouting. Security overwhelmed.

You spot Kwon across the arena. And your stomach drops.

He has Kreese’s Eunjangdo knife in his hand.

You don’t interfere at first.

You tell yourself he won’t actually use it. That this is posturing. Pride. Cobra Kai theatrics. But then you see who he’s facing.

Axel. And Kwon looks serious.

Daniel’s voice echoes in your head: “Stay out of it. This isn’t our fight.”

But you know Kwon.

You know his pride. You know how far he’ll go to prove something. You know how dangerous he becomes when cornered.

He lunges. And it backfires.

Axel moves faster than expected. Kwon’s balance shifts wrong. The blade glints dangerously as his footing slips in the chaos.

For a split second — he’s vulnerable.

And you move without thinking.

You break formation. You ignore Daniel shouting your name. You rush into the fight.

Not to stop him. To save him.

You intercept before Axel can land a devastating counter. Your movement is pure Miyagi-Do — redirect, disarm, stabilize. You knock the knife away before it can do irreversible damage.

The blade skids across the floor.

Kwon stumbles — and you’re there.

Grabbing him. Shielding him. Breathing hard.

He stares at you like he doesn’t understand what just happened.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he says, voice lower now. Not angry.

Conflicted.

He was ready to risk everything — his standing, the tournament, maybe even himself.

And you chose him anyway.

Now the chaos continues around you, but something between you shifts permanently.

You didn’t protect Cobra Kai. You didn’t protect Miyagi-Do.

You protected him.

And Kwon has never looked at you the same since.