CHAPTER 13: THE CALM BEFORE
POV: Ivyn Mikaelson
April brings California sunshine that makes people forget winter exists. And Cobra Kai's enrollment explodes.
Word spreads through West Valley High like wildfire. The dojo produces results. Students who were nobodies are becoming somebodies. Johnny Lawrence teaches you to be dangerous.
The strip mall location that felt empty three months ago now houses twenty-plus students. Energy shifts from intimate training to competitive ecosystem.
Johnny thrives on it. Channeling his glory-days memories into teaching that's effective if ethically questionable.
And the original students—me, Miguel, Hawk, Aisha, now Robby—become de facto leadership. The ones Johnny relies on to demonstrate techniques and maintain culture.
But that culture is poisoning from within.
I watch helplessly as the philosophy I feared metastasizes. "Strike first, strike hard, no mercy" becoming less martial arts principle and more life approach.
The door opens during afternoon class. Everyone turns.
Demetri Moskowitz stands there in workout clothes, looking like he's about to face a firing squad.
"Okay, hear me out." His voice carries that verbose anxiety that's pure Demetri. "Everybody at school's talking about how Cobra Kai transforms people. Eli became Hawk and he's dating Moon now. Aisha went from bullied to badass. Statistically, I have to assume there's something here worth investigating."
Several students laugh. Johnny eyes him skeptically.
"You ever thrown a punch?"
"Does punching my pillow during existential crises count?"
"No." Johnny crosses his arms. "Alright, you can try a class. But I don't accept quitters, and if you can't hack it, don't come back crying."
The class is predictably brutal for Demetri. He's uncoordinated. Weak. Complains constantly. But there's something endearing about his persistence despite obvious suffering.
During water break, he corners me. "Is it always like having your soul forcibly extracted through your pores?"
"Pretty much. But you get used to it."
"Do you though? Do you really?"
After class, Demetri's considering quitting. Then Hawk approaches. His former best friend.
"Look, you're terrible. But you showed up, which is more than most people do." Hawk's voice softens fractionally. "If you want to not be terrible, I'll help you train extra."
It's the first genuinely kind thing Hawk's done in weeks. A glimpse of Eli underneath the mohawk and aggression.
Demetri accepts cautiously.
I watch this development with hope. "Maybe Demetri's presence will moderate Hawk's worst instincts. Remind him of who he was."
[CANON DIVERGENCE: MAJOR]
[DEMETRI MOSKOWITZ joined COBRA KAI]
[Potential outcomes: Multiple]
[Monitor closely]
Sam texts during dinner: "Can I come watch you train sometime? I want to understand what takes up so much of your time."
My thumb hovers over the keyboard. "She'll hate it. The culture. The aggression. Everything her father warned her about."
But honesty demands I let her witness my world.
"Tomorrow. 4 PM."
She shows up during an advanced class. Sits in the small observation area. I'm hyperaware of her presence as Johnny runs us through aggressive drills.
Full-contact sparring. Conditioning that borders on punishment. Philosophical moments where Johnny preaches about winners and losers and the world not giving participation trophies.
Sam's face is carefully neutral. But I can read her discomfort in the tension of her shoulders. The way her hands grip her knees.
When Hawk slams a newer student particularly hard and Johnny praises it as "good killer instinct," Sam flinches.
After class, she's quiet while I shower and change. In the parking lot, she finally speaks.
"I understand why you like it. The structure. The improvement. The confidence." She meets my eyes. "But Ivyn, that place has a mean edge. The way that Hawk guy talks. The way your sensei encourages aggression. My dad might actually be right to worry."
I want to defend Cobra Kai. Can't fully argue against what she observed.
"It's not perfect. But for kids who've been pushed around their whole lives, learning to push back is powerful. Maybe the philosophy goes too far sometimes, but the core—teaching self-defense, building confidence—that's good."
Sam nods. Unconvinced.
"Just promise me you won't let it change who you are. The person I fell for is thoughtful. Empathetic. Careful with power. That dojo teaches the opposite."
"I promise."
"But maintaining my values while immersed in this culture is getting harder every day."
[RELATIONSHIP STATUS: SAM LARUSSO]
[Concern level: High]
[Warning: Cultural incompatibility creating strain]
Tournament bracket announcements arrive. The entire dojo crowds around Johnny's phone as he reads divisions.
Under-18 male division. Miguel's seeded seventh based on previous competition. I'm unseeded as a first-timer. Robby's unseeded. Several other dojos have returning champions.
Johnny addresses the class. "This is it. This tournament shows the Valley that Cobra Kai's back. I expect podium finishes—Miguel, you're my horse for the championship. Ivyn, Hawk, Robby—you place top eight minimum. Everyone else, you win at least two matches or explain to me why you wasted my time."
The pressure is immense. Public. Creates immediate hierarchy.
After class, Miguel corners me in the locker area.
"You heard Sensei. I'm his championship bet. Not you. Not Robby. Me."
Insecurity underneath the bravado.
"You've had longer training. More tournament experience. Makes sense."
"Then why does he spend more time correcting your form? Why does he use you for demonstrations? Why do you win when we spar now half the time?"
The questions are valid. The jealousy understandable.
"Because I'm obsessed in ways that probably aren't healthy. I train six hours a day outside of class. I study fight footage until my eyes blur. I've structured my entire life around getting better." Truth. Raw. "That's not talent—it's desperation and possibly mental illness."
Miguel laughs. Tension breaking slightly.
"You're insane."
"Completely. But you're still the better technical fighter. And Miguel? I'm not your enemy. We're teammates."
We clasp hands. The competitive edge still present but manageable.
[RIVALRY STATUS: MIGUEL DIAZ vs IVYN MIKAELSON]
[Escalating]
[Tournament will intensify conflict]
[Friendship survival probability: 60%]
Late April. Eight weeks from the All Valley.
The dojo's transformation from scrappy startup to legitimate threat is complete. New students cycle through. Some lasting days before Johnny's methods break them. Others embracing the hard culture and thriving.
I find myself in uncomfortable position of leadership. Newer students asking my advice. Johnny relying on me to run warm-ups. My name spoken with respect tinged with fear.
It's seductive. That respect.
And I understand viscerally how Cobra Kai corrupts. Not through obvious evil but through subtle addiction to being feared instead of dismissed.
Sam senses the change. Confronts me gently one evening.
"You're different lately. Harder edges. Quicker to confrontation. Less patient with people's weaknesses."
I want to deny it. Can't.
"I'm trying to balance being strong enough to protect people with staying the person worth protecting. It's harder than I expected."
"Then maybe you need an anchor. Something that reminds you who you were before all this."
She's right. But I'm not sure that person exists anymore. If he ever did.
I'm a transmigrator wearing a teenager's life like borrowed clothes. Driven by foreknowledge of tragedies only I can prevent.
The weight of that knowledge is rewriting my personality from the inside out.
[CURRENT STATUS:]
[Combat XP: 14,832]
[Strength (Upper): 45/100]
[Speed (Hand): 48/100]
[Endurance: 50/100]
[Cobra Kai Philosophy Alignment: 58/100]
[WARNING: Cultural corruption accelerating]
That night, I train in my apartment parking lot. Completing katas under streetlights. Each movement a prayer to a universe that doesn't answer.
"Let me be strong enough. Let me be good enough. Let me save them all without losing myself."
The answer, if there is one, is written in calluses and scar tissue and the slowly accumulating cost of every choice I'm making.
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