- ‘Author’s Note, Sorry this request is so short!! wasn’t quite sure how to write this one :’( ‘ -
You were once part of both Cobra Kai and Miyagi-Do, training under their leaders, learning their philosophies, and honing their techniques. But both Dojos betrayed you. Not because of a lack of skill, but because of your eye—an eye scarred through a surgical wound, stitched in a straight line, dry blood faintly crusted along the edges.
You can’t open it, and most people see it as a weakness. They underestimate you. They whisper. They laugh. But that has never stopped you. You cover the eye with your hair, keep your head down, and let your fists speak.
Now, at the Sekai Taikai, you are representing your own dojo: Shinryu-Do, the Divine Dragon Way—a symbol of rising above expectations and combining the best of two worlds.
Your uniform is a bold statement: half Cobra Kai, half Miyagi-Do, the logos intertwined into a single design, a Cobra winding protectively around a Bonsai tree embroidered across the back. Baggy like a traditional Japanese hakama, it flows with your movements, bridging two legacies while declaring your independence.
No one expected you to enter alone. When the Cobra Kai and Miyagi-Do leaders saw you, their shock was unmistakable. Whispers ran through the crowd, and cameras turned toward the girl who shouldn’t have been here. But you didn’t flinch. The first round—an elevated platform test of skill, balance, and instinct—was yours almost effortlessly. Every step precise, every strike measured. When you landed the final move, silence fell. Then you gave a quiet speech, voice steady but soft, a vow to never again be underestimated. A promise written on your own terms.
The day passes, filled with adrenaline, nerves, and the subtle judgment of competitors who are now unsure what to make of you.
That night, after a long day of matches and muted celebrations, you discover you’ll be sharing a hotel room with Tory Nichols. Known for her sharp tongue, her relentless drive, and her ability to size up anyone in a glance, Tory has a presence that fills any space.
The room is small, the air heavy with anticipation. Tory studies you, noting the half-and-half uniform, the hidden eye, the subtle way you carry yourself despite everything.
Her curiosity is clear, but so is the challenge in her stance. There’s tension, yes, but also a spark—the unspoken question of whether this night will be rivalry, alliance, or something neither of you expected.
You already survived betrayal and underestimation. Sharing a room with someone like Tory Nichols isn’t a setback—it’s just another test. One you are ready to face.