CHAPTER 7: DOUBLE LIVES AND DISCIPLINE
POV: Ivyn Mikaelson
Two weeks of Cobra Kai, and my body doesn't feel like mine anymore.
It's better. Stronger. But the mirror shows someone else—shoulders broader, core definition emerging where softness used to be. The teenage inactivity burning away under Johnny's brutal conditioning like paper in a furnace.
I'm sore constantly. Mornings are agony before my muscles warm up, moving like I'm ninety years old until the first stretch unlocks something. But when I throw a jab now, there's snap. Purpose. The beginning of something dangerous.
[TRAINING PROGRESS UPDATE:]
[JAB: 215/1000 XP (Competent)]
[CROSS: 230/1000 XP (Competent)]
[FRONT KICK: 260/1000 XP (Competent)]
[ROUNDHOUSE (LOW): 180/1000 XP (Beginner)]
[STRENGTH (UPPER): 24/100]
[SPEED (HAND): 26/100]
[ENDURANCE (CARDIO): 30/100]
The numbers climb. Every day, every session, steady progression that should take months compressed into weeks. I'm learning faster than Miguel, faster than anyone has a right to, and Johnny's starting to notice.
After class, Miguel and Aisha head out. I'm wrapping my hands—bruised knuckles, tape stained with old sweat—when Johnny's voice stops me at the door.
"Hold up, Mikaelson. We need to talk."
My heart rate spikes. "He knows. He figured it out. Too good too fast. Stupid. You got cocky."
Johnny leans against the heavy bag, arms crossed. Studying me like I'm a problem he's trying to solve.
"You're picking this up quick. Real quick."
"Thank you, Sensei."
"That wasn't a compliment. It was an observation." He pushes off the bag. "Most people take months to get their jab this clean. You got maybe three weeks under your belt."
I measure my response carefully. Truth wrapped in misdirection.
"I practice at home. Watch videos. Shadowbox. Work the fundamentals. And I listen when you teach."
All true. Just not complete.
Johnny's eyes narrow. "Yeah? What videos?"
The trap is obvious. If I claim to study Cobra Kai specifically, I reveal foreknowledge I shouldn't have.
"Boxing fundamentals mostly. Basic striking mechanics. Good technique is good technique regardless of style, right?"
He considers this. Nods slowly.
"Not wrong. But there's a difference between watching and doing. You're doing something else." He steps closer. "You move like you've got ghosts in your head showing you the right way."
The observation hits too close. Sweat that has nothing to do with training prickles my neck.
"Maybe I'm just motivated."
"Yeah? Why?"
"I've spent my whole life getting pushed around by circumstances." The words come out harder than intended. "I'm done being helpless."
Something in Johnny's expression shifts. Recognition. Kinship. Maybe respect.
"Yeah. I get that." He claps my shoulder once, rough but not unkind. "Just don't get cocky. Knowing moves and winning fights are different things."
"Yes, Sensei."
As I leave, I feel his eyes following me. Thoughtful. Suspicious.
[WARNING: Johnny Lawrence growing suspicious of rapid progression]
[Recommendation: Slow visible improvement rate]
[Current trust level: 65/100]
I dismiss the notification and head into the November cold, wondering how long I can maintain this illusion.
The library smells like old books and cleaning solution. Our usual table in the back corner, afternoon light slanting through dusty windows. Sam sits with her arms crossed, and I know before she speaks that this conversation won't be easy.
"You've been different."
I set down my backpack slowly. "Different how?"
"Distracted. And yesterday, Moon mentioned seeing you leave school with Miguel and Aisha in workout clothes." Her eyes find mine. Direct. Unflinching. "Are you hiding something from me?"
"Everything," I think. "I'm hiding everything from you, and it's killing me."
I've rehearsed this. Prepared the lie that's also partially truth.
"I joined a kickboxing gym with them. Fitness thing."
"Why didn't you mention it?"
I let silence do work. Then: "Because your dad already looks at me like I might corrupt you. Adding 'teaches his daughter's boyfriend to fight' to his concerns seemed unwise."
Sam's expression softens fractionally. But she's not satisfied.
"You could have told me. I'm not my father, Ivyn. I don't need to be protected from information."
"You're right." I reach across the table but don't quite touch her hand. "I'm sorry. It felt easier to keep things separate—school life, training life, time with you. But that was wrong."
She studies me. Her empathy and intelligence working in tandem, trying to determine if I'm being fully honest. I meet her gaze and don't blink.
Finally: "No more secrets like this, okay? We tell each other things. Even uncomfortable things. That's how this works."
"I promise."
The lie tastes like ash, but I say it anyway. Because I've just promised something I can't deliver, and the weight of it sits in my chest like lead.
[DECEPTION ACCUMULATION: MODERATE]
[RELATIONSHIP STATUS: SAM LARUSSO - Girlfriend (Strained but Stable)]
[EMPATHY: 58 → 52 (-6)]
[COMPARTMENTALIZATION: 175/1000 XP (+175)]
We study together. The tension doesn't fully resolve, but it becomes manageable. She quizzes me on calculus. I help her with physics. Normal teenage relationship things that feel anything but normal when you're lying about your entire existence.
When she leaves for her next class, she kisses my cheek. Soft. Trusting.
I hate myself a little more than yesterday.
End of day, and Eli stands by the bike racks staring at a Cobra Kai flyer. His body language screams conflict—wanting something desperately but afraid to reach for it.
I approach quietly. "You thinking about joining?"
He jumps. Defensive immediately.
"Why would you care?"
"Because I train there. Because Johnny's a good teacher if you can handle the intensity." I sit on the bike rack. "And because I think you're tired of being invisible."
His eyes widen. Nobody talks to him directly like this. Nobody acknowledges what he carries everywhere—the lip, the hair, the entirety of his perceived inadequacy.
"I'm not a fighter. I'm..." He gestures vaguely at himself.
"Neither was I a month ago. Still not really. But I'm getting there."
"How?"
"By deciding to be something different than what I was." I pause. "The question isn't whether you're a fighter now. It's whether you want to be."
Eli takes the flyer. Folds it carefully. His hands shake slightly.
"Did it help? Training?"
"I feel less helpless." Truth. Raw and honest. "Whether that's help or just a different kind of trap, I'm still figuring out."
He nods slowly. Walks away without another word.
And I wonder if I just set something irreversible in motion. Because in the show, Eli becomes Hawk. Violent. Cruel. The kind of transformation that destroys as much as it builds.
"But maybe I can guide it better," I think. "Maybe if he's already part of Cobra Kai when I have influence—"
[POTENTIAL RECRUIT INFLUENCED: ELI MOSKOWITZ]
[OUTCOME: UNKNOWN]
[WARNING: Butterfly effects accumulating]
That night, I train in my apartment. Shadowboxing combinations in the narrow space between my bed and the wall. Kicks that nearly hit the ceiling. Kata from videos I've memorized, performing them with the sound off so neighbors don't complain.
The System tracks every rep. Every technique. Quantifying effort into numbers that represent a life being rebuilt from scratch.
Sam texts goodnight with a heart emoji.
I respond in kind, storing the guilt for later processing.
Johnny texts the class: "Tournament in six months. All Valley. You better be ready."
Miguel responds with fire emojis.
Aisha: "Yes, Sensei."
I stare at the message, knowing what that tournament represents. The culmination of rivalries. The beginning of escalation. The moment when everything I know becomes slightly less reliable.
"We'll be ready," I type.
[NEW QUEST: ALL VALLEY TOURNAMENT]
[OBJECTIVE: Place in Top 8]
[REWARD: Major XP bonus, Reputation boost, Story divergence opportunities]
[DIFFICULTY: EXTREME]
[TIME REMAINING: 6 months]
I accept it. Continue training until exhaustion forces sleep.
Because stopping means thinking, and thinking means confronting the moral complexity of every choice I'm making.
Better to just move forward and hope the destination justifies the journey.
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