CHAPTER 74: MONUMENT TO MADNESS
The city officials arrived during afternoon sparring.
Three suits with clipboards, a photographer, and someone who looked suspiciously like the mayor's assistant pushed through Cobra Kai's doors while I had Miguel in a headlock. Behind them, a small crowd of civilians pressed against the windows, phones raised.
"What the hell?" Johnny let go of the foam noodle he'd been using to demonstrate strikes. "We're in the middle of class!"
The lead official—a balding man with an enthusiastic smile that suggested he'd never been punched in his life—stepped forward with a bronze plaque.
"Mr. Lawrence! On behalf of the City of Los Angeles, we're honored to designate this location—" he consulted his notes, "—the Cobra Kai Dojo, as an Official Historical Landmark of Cultural Significance!"
Johnny's beer hit the floor. "It's a strip mall dojo."
"Where heroes were forged!" The official gestured grandly at our confused faces. "The birthplace of the Valley Revolution! Where the Prophet first trained!"
I released Miguel, who immediately started rubbing his neck. "I just wanted to learn karate."
"And you learned so much more!" The photographer started snapping pictures. "The mayor would like a photo opportunity. If you could all gather by the banner—"
"We don't have a banner."
"We brought one!"
Two assistants unrolled a vinyl sign: "BIRTHPLACE OF THE PROPHET'S REBELLION — COBRA KAI DOJO — EST. 2018." The design included a stylized cobra wrapped around what appeared to be a fist holding a torch.
"That's not historically accurate," Demetri observed. "The rebellion wasn't born here. It was born in the war council meeting at Miyagi-Do, which technically means—"
"Nobody cares about accuracy!" The official thrust papers at Johnny. "Just sign here, here, and initial here. The plaque will be installed tomorrow."
Johnny looked at me. I looked at Johnny. Neither of us had prepared for this particular flavor of chaos.
Outside, the crowd had grown. Tourists—actual tourists, with cameras and fanny packs—were taking photos through the windows. Someone held a sign that said "PROPHET BLESS ME."
"This is a nightmare," I muttered.
"This is history!" the official corrected cheerfully.
---
Attempting normal training with an audience proved impossible.
Every kick became content. Every punch became a headline. The tourists pressed against the glass like we were zoo exhibits, narrating our movements for their phones.
"He's doing a kick! The Prophet is doing a LEGENDARY KICK!"
"That's just a basic front kick," Hawk corrected through the window. This only made the crowd more excited.
"THE LEGENDARY PROPHET DOES BASIC KICK! HUMBLE MASTER!"
Tory stalked toward the windows with murder in her eyes. "I'm going to commit actual violence."
"That'll just become more content," I warned.
"PROPHET'S WARRIOR PRINCESS APPROACHES!"
Tory's eye twitched. "Prophet's warrior princess?"
"They have a whole mythology about us," Sam sighed. "I'm the 'Revolutionary Girlfriend.' Miguel's the 'Loyal Lieutenant.' Hawk's the 'Mohawked Menace.'"
"The Mohawked Menace is actually kind of cool," Hawk admitted.
Johnny had retreated to his office, presumably to drink and contemplate his life choices. I found him staring at the ceiling with the expression of a man who'd seen too much.
"They want to charge admission," he said flatly.
"What?"
"The city. They want to charge tourists admission to watch us train. Like a museum. Like we're... exhibits."
"We said no, right?"
"I said no." Johnny sat up, reaching for a fresh beer. "Then they mentioned the rent increase."
My stomach dropped. "How much?"
"Triple. 'Historical landmark premium.' Unless we participate in their tourism initiative."
I did the math. Our merchandise sales were covering current rent, but triple? That was a different equation entirely.
"So we're trapped."
"We're leverage." Johnny cracked the beer. "Welcome to capitalism, kid. You won the revolution and now you're a product."
---
Demetri solved it, because Demetri always solved it.
"Revolution merchandise," he announced, projecting his laptop screen onto the dojo wall. "I've already designed a full product line. Shirts, hoodies, headbands, training equipment. The 'COBRA KAI REVOLUTION' brand."
The designs were actually good. Professional-looking logos. Multiple color options. A tasteful rendering of the crossed cobra-and-crane that had become our unofficial symbol.
"We're a gift shop now?" Johnny asked.
"We're an empire," I corrected. "And empires need revenue streams."
"I just wanted to teach karate."
"You taught revolution. Bigger profit margin."
Within an hour, Demetri had the website live. Within two hours, we had three hundred orders. Within four hours, we'd made enough to cover two months of the inflated rent.
"This is insane," Miguel said, watching the order counter climb.
"This is entrepreneurship," Demetri replied. "Also, I've taken the liberty of incorporating us as an LLC. Tax benefits."
"You incorporated us?"
"Someone had to."
The tourists eventually dispersed as evening approached. The dojo emptied. Johnny and I found ourselves on the roof, hiding from the last stragglers with their phones and their signs.
"This isn't what I wanted," he admitted.
"You wanted to matter. Now you do."
"I wanted to teach karate. Help kids. Maybe win a tournament." He gestured at the city below. "Not... this."
"You taught revolution." I stole a sip of his beer—he let me, which was progress. "Bigger impact."
"Is it though?" He took the beer back. "I don't know how to be a historical landmark. I barely know how to be a sensei."
"Nobody knows how to be anything until they do it." I thought about my own journey—transmigrator, student, revolutionary. "You adapt. You survive. You figure it out."
"That philosophy?"
"That's experience."
We sat in silence, watching the sunset paint the strip mall in shades of orange and gold. Below us, the plaque installers were probably already at work, cementing our legacy into stone.
Sometimes success sucked.
My phone buzzed. Group text from Barnes: Found private warehouse. Real training tomorrow. No tourists.
I showed Johnny. For the first time all day, he smiled.
Some things stayed sacred.
To supporting Me in Pateron .
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