Mike's footsteps echoed on the sidewalk as he walked through the unfamiliar streets of Reseda. The world around him was so... normal. Teenagers walked past with their heads buried in their phones, laughing and chatting as though life was simple. He couldn't remember the last time life had felt simple.
With every step, his thoughts kept returning to the dojo he'd seen earlier—the Cobra Kai dojo. There was something about it that pulled him in, like a magnet. Maybe it was the uniformed kids training inside, or maybe it was the fact that, for the first time since he'd awoken in this new body, he felt something resembling purpose again.
He had spent the last few hours wandering the town, trying to understand his new reality, but the truth was, it was all so surreal. The city, the people, even his body—it was like everything had been rewritten, and he was left trying to remember what role he was supposed to play in this strange, new world.
But the Cobra Kai dojo? That felt real.
Mike found himself standing in front of the dojo once again. The building was unremarkable, tucked between a few shops and a small diner, but there was something about the place that felt like it belonged. His instincts told him that this was a place where warriors trained—not soldiers, but fighters. Fighters who understood the art of discipline, of power, and of survival.
As he walked inside, the hum of voices and the sound of fists connecting with pads filled the air. The room was alive with energy, a mix of teenage enthusiasm and raw power.
At the front of the room, a man in his early fifties stood tall, his posture rigid, eyes scanning the room with the precision of a hawk. His presence alone commanded respect. Johnny Lawrence, the dojo's sensei, caught Mike's gaze from across the room.
"You again," Johnny said, his voice carrying across the dojo. "What's your deal, old man? You looking to join or just watch?"
Mike didn't respond right away. The word "old man" stung him, but he forced it down. He wasn't some relic from a forgotten past. He was still a soldier at heart, no matter how young or out of place he felt. The military had taught him to take control of any situation. Now, he had to find a way to take control of this new life.
"I'm here to train," Mike said, his voice steady. "I've seen enough battles to know what works. Maybe I can learn something here. Maybe you can teach me."
Johnny raised an eyebrow. "You've got a lot of nerve, old man. But I like that. You've got guts."
Mike stepped further into the dojo, his military instincts kicking in as he observed the students. They were mostly young, probably still in high school, but their faces were a mix of determination and insecurity. They were raw, unpolished. They reminded him of rookies back in his army days—hungry for something to prove, but lacking the structure to make it count.
Johnny moved toward him, sizing him up with a smirk. "Alright, let's see what you've got, soldier."
An Hour Later
Mike stood across from one of Johnny's top students, Miguel, a teenager with sharp eyes and an intensity that seemed to match his own. Johnny had thrown him straight into the sparring ring, probably to see how he would perform under pressure.
Miguel was quick, his movements sharp and fluid. He came at Mike with a series of jabs and kicks, all standard Cobra Kai techniques: strike first, strike hard. Mike dodged the first few, his body still adjusting to the movements of his new, younger form. He had spent years honing his reflexes in combat zones, but this was different. These were kids, not soldiers.
Miguel's next punch came faster than Mike expected. Instinctively, he blocked it with his forearm, countering with a quick knee to Miguel's midsection. The younger boy stumbled back, winded.
Johnny whistled from the sidelines. "Not bad. You've got some moves."
Mike didn't respond. His eyes were locked on Miguel, who was already recovering and getting back into his stance. Mike could tell the boy was determined to prove himself. Mike respected that.
"Not bad," Mike said to Miguel. "But you're predictable. You're too eager. Calm down, think ahead. You need to anticipate, not react."
Miguel blinked, clearly surprised. No one had ever spoken to him like that. "What do you mean?"
Mike adjusted his stance, his movements deliberate. "You're focused on throwing punches, but you're not thinking about where your opponent is going next. You're not reading the fight, you're just throwing fists."
Johnny's eyes narrowed as he watched the exchange. "Hey, you! Don't start giving my students life lessons just yet. I run Cobra Kai, not you."
But Mike wasn't finished. He turned his attention back to Miguel. "Remember, a real fighter doesn't wait for the other person to make the first move. A real fighter makes the other person react to him."
Miguel stared at him, absorbing the lesson. It was clear he was eager to learn, but Johnny's words echoed in his head: Strike first. Strike hard.
Johnny stepped in, his voice sharp. "Alright, enough chit-chat. Get back to it. This is Cobra Kai, not some military boot camp. Strike first, Miguel!"
The clash of fists resumed, but Mike couldn't help feeling a strange mix of frustration and satisfaction. Johnny's style was aggressive, one-dimensional. He didn't see the bigger picture, the way Mike did. But there was something about Johnny—his passion, his anger—that Mike understood. The guy was broken, in his own way. And maybe, just maybe, Mike could be the one to help put him back together.
Later that Evening
After the sparring ended, Johnny pulled Mike aside, his expression more serious now. "Alright, old man," he said, using the term as a joke now, "you've got some skills. I can see that. You wanna stick around? Teach some of my kids your tricks?"
Mike wasn't sure. This wasn't exactly what he had envisioned when he walked in. But something about the dojo felt like a place where he could rebuild himself, a place where he could make a difference in this new life.
"I'm not here to teach them tricks, Johnny," Mike said, his voice low but firm. "I'm here to teach them something real. Something they can use for more than just winning a fight. They need discipline. Strategy. Purpose."
Johnny looked at him for a moment, then shrugged. "We don't do purpose here, man. We do Cobra Kai. But if you can teach them some of your... strategy stuff, I'm listening."
Mike nodded, feeling a new kind of determination surge within him. "Then I'll start with that. I'll teach them to think before they act. And maybe, just maybe, you'll see that there's more to being a fighter than just striking hard."
Johnny smirked. "We'll see, soldier. We'll see."