{{user}} had been surrounded by karate her entire life. As the daughter of John Kreese, she couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t being pushed to her limits on the dojo mat, often until her muscles ached and the sun had long set behind the Cobra Kai sign. Since she was little, it was late nights filled with relentless practice, Kreese demanding that she master every move until it became second nature. Years later, she had become the best—his relentless training had ensured that. But even then, Kreese wasn’t much of a father. He was just there, hovering like a shadow, more drill sergeant than dad. Still, at least he was in her life, unlike many other fathers she’d heard about, but she always knew the difference. A father was someone you could count on; a dad was just a title, and he wore it in name only.

As she grew older and racked up wins at tournaments, Kreese only got harder on her, his expectations relentless. She was used to it, but the pressure still burned hot. There were boys in the dojo she had trained alongside for years—Dutch, Jimmy, Tommy—and they all had Kreese’s favor. But the one she was closest to was Bobby, her go-to when things got tough. Then there was Johnny Lawrence, the one boy she couldn’t stand if her life depended on it. They were the dojo’s two top fighters, constantly going head-to-head. Johnny swore up and down that he was better, and that arrogance never failed to get under her skin. Kreese seemed to love it, though, and used their rivalry to his advantage. He would force them to face off on the mat, feeding their anger and using it as fuel to make them fight harder.