Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

I hadn't realized how much I'd missed karate, until I was standing in front of the class with Hawk, demonstrating how to use an opponent's weight against them to successfully flip them on their back.

But for the next several weeks, I breathed and lived karate alongside Hawk, as we worked to create quick lesson plans and taught the class together. October ended quietly, Hawk and I ditching the annual Halloween dance to spend the night at Miguel's place instead, stuffing our faces with candy and watching horror films. And the rest of November passed by without a second of rest, as I switched between school, karate, and work, visiting Robby every Sunday and squeezing in useless homework assignments when I could.

School itself remained somewhat tense, but the constant presence of police officers roaming the halls kept any major fights from breaking out. For our lunch period, we had picked a table for our teammates to sit together at, experiencing the same camaraderie we'd once had when we'd all been in Cobra Kai together. But we had yet to formally announce the formation of our dojo, seeing as we still didn't have Sensei Lawrence to back us up. I remembered well enough that Kreese would come sniffing around the moment he learned of it.

It was on a Friday morning, in the first week of December, that I spotted Hawk hurrying down the hallway, weaving around the crowd of students, until he skidded to stop beside my locker.

"They're here," he said.

"What? What's here?" I asked, shutting my locker door and turning to face him, leaning against the cool metal, bag slung over one shoulder.

"The t-shirts. They arrived at my place last night," he explained with a wide grin.

"No way! Did you bring one?" I demanded.

Wordlessly, Hawk shifted his backpack forward, and I huddled close as he unzipped it, allowing us a glimpse of the logo Miguel had designed across the front. It was a violent red, set against the solid black of the shirt―the image of an eagle, mid-dive, crushing a snake dead in its talons, and underneath it, in all capital letters:

EAGLE STRIKE KARATE

"Sick, right?"

"Duh," I said, tucking a hand inside his bag and running a finger along the freshly printed logo. "But," I added, "I have even better news."

"Oh yeah?"

I withdrew my hand and grinned up at him. "Miguel got the all clear from his doctor yesterday. He's coming back to school on Monday."

"About time," Hawk said, zipping his bag back up and pushing it over his shoulder, but I could see that he was just as happy as me that we would finally have Miguel back.

"You know what that means," I sang.

"Yeah, it means Sensei Lawrence can finally take over the class," he scoffed. "I'm just about done with some of that bullshit."

"Now you know how he felt with us," I giggled.

Hawk smiled, reluctantly agreeing with me. "Yeah, I guess so."

Above us, the warning bell rang.

"Alright, we might as well get started today," I decided, straightening up from where I'd been slouching against my locker door. "Miguel and I will bring Sensei to your place for training this afternoon."

"You gonna break the news to him first? Or is it gonna be a surprise?"

As I backed away from Hawk, in the direction of my next class, I smiled. "Let's make it a surprise."

"Park over here," I instructed Sensei Lawrence from the backseat, as soon as we arrived at Hawk's place later that day.

"What? What are we doing here?" he demanded, pulling up beside the curb. "I thought you said you found a spot where we could train."

"I never said that."

"Besides," Miguel added, pushing open the passenger door, "I thought you'd already found a place for the new dojo."

For a while now, Sensei had been discussing the idea of creating a new dojo with Miguel, while helping him through his rehab. Of course, he had no idea we'd already gotten ahead of him on that venture. And despite his own excitement, Miguel had managed to keep a tight lid on it.

"I'm working on it," Sensei deflected sourly, as we all exited the car.

"Have you tried looking at any abandoned factories?" I asked as we lead the way over towards the side gate. "They don't charge rent, let alone ask for your credit score."

Miguel shot me a look, easily walking beside me like he'd never been paralyzed to begin with. "Lorena, please don't go giving him more insane ideas."

"No," Sensei Lawrence spoke over Miguel, following behind us. "I'll look into it."

I grinned triumphantly at Miguel as I paused, reaching up to unlatch the gate. "Cool!" I said, and gestured for them to follow. "Come on, Sensei, we're already late."

"Late for what?"

"Well," I stalled, as we took the path bordering the side of the house, "we don't have a place for a new dojo." Hawk's backyard worked well for reasonable exercises―drills, demos, and sparring sessions. But realistically, it wasn't the kind of place Sensei Lawrence could lead the team in. Otherwise, Hawk's mom would kill us for wrecking her backyard. "But we have been working on the team itself."

"You started recruiting already?"

"Recruiting's pretty much done," I said, as we turned the corner of the house, where it opened up into the backyard.

Already, along the grass area, the entirety of our dojo stood in two neat rows of five, Hawk at the front and center. And just like we'd planned, everyone was wearing the black dojo t-shirts Miguel had designed.

I pulled my backpack forward, and dug out the shirt we'd bought for Sensei, before tossing it his way. "Welcome to Eagle Strike Karate."

Sensei Lawrence caught it and stared closely at the red insignia splayed across the front. "You named the dojo?"

"Well, I mean," Miguel was quick to cut in, "we can always change―"

"It's fucking badass," Sensei decided.

"Miguel designed the t-shirts," I bragged.

Sensei shot Miguel a surprised look as he slung the shirt over his shoulder. "Nice work, Diaz."

Miguel beamed. "Thanks, Sensei!"

"So," Sensei said, as he sauntered forward to stand before the line of students, eyeing each of them closely, "this is where you kept disappearing off to with Hawk."

"Duh," I laughed, digging another set of t-shirts out of my bag and passing one over to Miguel. "What else would we have been up to?"

When Sensei didn't respond, I looked over to see him glaring at Hawk.

Shit. He's still really pissed at him, I realized.

Fortunately, Hawk stood his ground, shoulders back, meeting his gaze evenly.

"Sensei," I called, tossing aside my backpack and hurrying over, successfully breaking the tension. I grabbed him by the arm and tugged him towards where Devon stood at one end of the front row. "This is Devon Lee, our newest member. We've begun teaching her the basics."

Devon stuck out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Sensei Lawrence. My pronouns are she/her."

Sensei stared at her blankly. "The only pronouns we accept in this dojo are sensei and student."

"Those are nouns," she corrected him, dropping her hand. "And this isn't even a dojo."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, although Devon didn't quite catch on to his sarcasm until, "I think what I meant to say is―quiet!"

Devon wasn't the only one to straighten up with a flinch. Like some of kind of sleeper agent mode, we all jolted to attention, eyes locking strictly onto Sensei Lawrence.

"Miss Beckett," he snapped, "the class is yours for now. I want you to show me exactly what you've been teaching them."

Briefly, I looked towards Hawk, because we'd technically been leading the dojo together. But in a barely perceptible motion, he shook his head at me, indicating that I take the credit.

I frowned. But I knew having this conversation with Sensei Lawrence, in front of the entire team, would only serve to embarrass him.

"Understood, Sensei."

Early the next morning, Sensei disappeared, off on his self-appointed mission to find the ideal abandoned factory where Eagle Strike could train. Meanwhile, I blessedly slept in, the most exhausted I'd been post-training in a long time. Yesterday's class had lasted twice longer than it normally did, and the moment I'd collapsed into bed, I'd been out like a light.

It was still morning when I reluctantly rolled out of bed, trudging out of my room and down the hall, urged by the incessant knocking at the front door.

When I opened it, Miguel snickered at the poor sight of me. "Why does it look like you went three rounds with your pillow and lost?"

I didn't dignify that with a response, simply turning my back to him and plodding towards the kitchen.

Without needing an invitation, Miguel followed, shutting the door behind him.

"You have plans today?"

Around a yawn, I said, "Nope. Just a shift this afternoon." I reached up, pulling a cereal box and a pair of bowls from the cabinet. "You?"

"I mostly planned on studying," he admitted glumly. "I have to start sitting in all the exams I missed this semester when I go back to school on Monday."

"Already?" I commiserated, twisting back to set the items on the kitchen table, where Miguel was already sitting. "Did you at least finish all your remedial work?"

"Pretty much. There wasn't much else to do the last couple months, other than training with Sensei."

I moved back, snagging a set of spoons from the drawer and taking the carton of milk out of the fridge. "It still sucks they're making you take so many exams," I complained as I turned, sliding into the chair across from him. Already, he'd filled up both of our bowls with Cheerios. "Especially on the week before finals."

"At least they waived all the project work," he said, taking the spoon I passed over, and pouring milk over his cereal and mine. "And they counted my rehab towards my PE credit, so I won't have to retake the semester."

I scoffed. "It was the least they could do," I bit out, before shoveling a spoonful of cereal into my mouth.

Miguel smiled. "Thanks."

Slowly, as we ate breakfast, the last dregs of sleep dissipated, until I was fully awake. But for the first time in a while, I didn't have my day fully booked. With Sensei scouting for a new dojo space, we'd postponed training until Monday, meaning most of my day had been freed up.

"Did you need help with your studying?" I asked Miguel, around the last bite of my cereal.

"I wouldn't mind the company," he admitted sheepishly. "But we can do that later. I wanted to show you something first."

"Sure, whatever you want," I said with a shrug, lifting my bowl to drink the sugary milk, before setting it down with a satisfied hum. "Okay, give me ten minutes to get ready," I said, standing to my feet. "You can wash the dishes while you wait."

Miguel rolled his eyes at me, but didn't protest.

I disappeared back down the hall, first ducking into the bathroom to rinse my face and brush my teeth, before returning to my room, where I quickly untangled my mess of hair and pulled it back into a scrunchie.

I then changed into a hoodie and a pair of jeans, pulling on my socks and sneakers, before I opened my door and called, "Am I gonna need my wallet?"

"No, we're just going outside," Miguel answered from somewhere in the kitchen.

"Okay, I'm ready then," I said, wandering back out.

Miguel finished drying his hands with the kitchen towel and gestured for me to follow him.

Together, we exited the apartment, and I was surprised to see Miguel leaning over to pull a skateboard into his hand, from where it'd been propped up against the wall right beside the doorway. "Sorry," he said, turning to face me, a pinched smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "I never got around to showing you how to use this over the summer."

I beamed and dragged the door shut behind me. "You remembered!"

"Yeah, I…when I came home from the hospital, I found this and realized I never kept my promise. But by then, it was too late and I―" His voice cracked.

I reached over and pulled Miguel into a solid hug. "Of course it wasn't too late," I murmured against his shoulder, while he wrapped his free arm around my back. "Just a temporary set back. You're back on your feet now, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he said and cleared his throat. "Thanks, Lorena."

"What are friends for, if not to bully you out of a wheelchair?" I teased.

I felt the breath of his laughter against the top of my head. "I'm pretty sure Sensei did most of the bullying."

"But I helped," I insisted, pulling back and grinning up at him. "Alright, you gonna teach me, then?"

"Sure, come on."

I followed him over to the center of the courtyard between our apartments, where he dropped the skateboard to the ground with a clatter, trapping it under his foot before it could roll away. Once the board remained motionless, he gestured for me to hop on.

"Don't let go," I warned him, gripping his hands as I stepped atop it. "Uh, now what?" I asked, trying to maintain my balance, the board wobbling underneath me.

"Make sure you keep your left foot planted at the front. You'll use your right foot to push off," he explained.

"Um…"

"Just try it. I won't let go. Promise!"

"You better not," I said, but dropped one of his hands, tightening my grip on the other, as I cautiously adjusted my footing. I angled my left foot slightly forward, and―

"Here," Miguel said, "why don't I just pull you, instead? Get you comfortable first."

"You're the boss," I said distractedly, abruptly shooting out my other arm as I began rolling forward with a simple tug from him, in an attempt to keep my balance.

"Just relax."

"Easy for you to say," I grumbled, and tried to do as told.

But it wasn't until Miguel guided me through a couple loops around the courtyard, that I finally began to lose the tension in my body.

"I wrote to Dutch again," I mentioned offhandedly, as he continued pulling me along.

Miguel sent a sharp look my way. "You're sure that's a good idea?"

I huffed. "What? You're not for it anymore?"

"After knowing what he did?" he said flatly. "No, not really."

"What? Because he didn't give me the full story?" At Miguel's unimpressed look, I added, "Even if he had, I would've probably done it anyway."

I had done it anyway.

Now, Miguel was glaring at me. "Please tell me you're not serious."

I shrugged, and kept my eyes locked on the ground ahead. "Desperate times," was all I had to offer. But when I realized Miguel didn't look any less upset, I tacked on, "Besides, it's been a few weeks now. I don't think he's going to write back."

I'd only written that letter to thank him for his help with Hawk, and to let him know it had worked. Hawk had left Cobra Kai and that was all that mattered. And while I was sure he appreciated the update, there wasn't a whole lot for him to say in response.

"That's probably for the best," Miguel decided, and slowed down, until the skateboard rolled to a stop below me. "Alright, try pushing off now."

"Um, okay," I said, less nervous this time. "But how do I steer?"

"You just gotta lean into it."

Miguel spent the rest of the morning guiding me through the basics, until I was comfortable skating around without the death grip I'd had on his hand.

"I think you got it," he said with a grin, watching as I slowly rolled through the courtyard all on my own.

"Barely," I said, but smiled proudly all the same. "We should go try the bigger parking lot on the other side of the complex."

Before he could agree to the plan, the door to his apartment opened and Rosa stuck her head out.

"Miggy, Lorena, la comida está lista. Ya vengan!" she called. Lunch is ready. Come in!

"We're coming, Yaya," Miguel said.

I let my backfoot hit the ground and successfully dismounted the skateboard, leaning down to scoop the board into my hands, before hurrying to follow after Miguel.

"Y lávate las manos," Rosa chided as we filed inside, pointedly eyeing the skateboard in my grip. And wash your hands.

"Esta bien," I laughed, setting the skateboard down on the tile, while Rosa closed the door behind us. Alright.

As she had been doing for the last couple days, Rosa had cooked up a feast. Ever since Miguel had been cleared by the doctor, her mood had skyrocketed and she insisted on feeding us like we were on the brink of starvation.

The spread of food was bit a much without the presence of Carmen and Sensei Lawrence to help us out, but the delicious aroma alone was enough to get my stomach rumbling, so I didn't waste another second, joining Miguel at the kitchen sink so that we could wash our hands, while Rosa began distributing plates of food around the small table.

It almost felt like things were back to normal once again.

"You ready?" I asked Miguel, as Sensei Lawrence pulled through the drop-off zone at school on Monday morning, coming to a stop by the curb.

"Yeah, I think so…"

Sensei shot him a glare. "What kind of wimpy ass attitude is that, Diaz? I didn't just spend the last two months getting you off those gimp legs, for you to go back to school with that loser mindset."

Miguel grinned. "Right. Sorry, Sensei," he said, unbuckling his seatbelt and pushing open the passenger door to exit the car.

"Go kick some ass," Sensei Lawrence called after him. "Just uh, maybe don't do it literally, or your mom is gonna kill me."

"Yeah, I think he got it, Sensei," I laughed, pushing the front seat forward and climbing out of the Firebird.

"Alright, I'll be back around later to pick you both up for training."

"Sounds good. Bye," I called, Miguel and I waving at him, before closing the door and moving across the courtyard to enter the main building.

"You said they check our bags now?" Miguel asked, as we joined the queue of students waiting by the line of entrance doors.

"Yeah, but it's routine. Usually only takes a few minutes," I assured him. "Did you bring a change of clothes for the afternoon? I don't think Sensei is taking us back to the apartment."

"Yeah, they're in my bag. Have you seen the spot we'll be training at?"

I snorted. "Nope. Though I have a good idea as to what it'll look like," I said, as we shuffled forward in line.

Miguel frowned. "You don't actually think we'll be meeting at an abandoned factory, do you?" But when he caught sight of my grin, he shook his head at me. "Of course. What did I expect?"

"It's Sensei Lawrence," I reminded him. "I'm sure it'll be a lot of fun."

Miguel sighed at me.

Briefly, we split up, as we were scanned over by the metal detectors, and police officers checked the contents of our school bags. But like I'd promised, it was done and over with quickly, and we walked forward together, joining the stream of students splitting off between various halls and the main staircase.

Within seconds, whispers broke out and kids began pointing out Miguel's arrival, before everyone burst into applause. And along the handrail of the stairway landing above us, a banner had been hung up:

WELCOME BACK MIGUEL!

"Hey, good to see you!"

"He's back!"

"Good to see you, Miguel!"

Miguel met each welcome with a grin, fist bumping kids and waving, as we weaved through the crowds, rounding the staircase and heading over to the east wing.

"El Serpiente!" Hawk called when he caught sight of Miguel, striding over to join us. "Welcome back, man!"

Miguel clasped hands with him. "Feels good to be back."

"Hey," I said, Hawk briefly wrapping an arm around my shoulders when I leaned over for a quick hug. "Did you send out the address for training this afternoon?"

"Uh, yeah. What's up with that?" he asked, eyes darting curiously between Miguel and I. "I checked the crossroads on the map, but all I found were a bunch of warehouses in that part of town."

Miguel sighed again.

"Sounds about right," I said. "Might be a little dangerous, but that should be nothing new to you."

"What? Has he got another cement mixer lined up for us?"

"Nah," I said. "Probably some coal shoveling, climbing industrial chains, knuckle push-ups on top of wooden crates, balancing on metal beams. Maybe even," I added with a sharp grin, "smashing watermelons with a flying tornado kick."

"Sensei told you all this?" Miguel demanded, now sending an incredulous look my way.

"Uh, no." I shrugged. "Just a guess."

"Wait," Hawk said, "are these Sensei's plans, or are they your plans?"

Above us, the first bell rang.

"Sorry, gotta go," I sang, snagging Miguel by the arm and pushing past him, knowing perfectly well that Hawk had to head in the opposite direction, up to the second floor for homeroom.

Miguel huffed. "Don't you need to stop by your locker?"

"Nah, we're mainly reviewing for finals," I said. "Are you ready for your make-up exams? What subject do you have today?" I asked as we began heading down the east hall. We would soon have to split up, once I reached the class for my homeroom, while Miguel had to report to one of the test taking rooms near the front office.

"AP U.S. History," Miguel said. "Those are all open textbook though, so I should be okay. I'm more worried about the tests for AP Bio and trig."

"Hey, next to Demetri and Hawk, you're literally the nerdiest person I know. You'll do great!" I assured him. "And speak of the devil," I said when I spotted Demetri, shoving a stack of textbooks and binders into his locker, forcefully snapping the door close with a metallic clang.

"Hey," Demetri called when he saw us approaching him, "it's the Comeback Kid! Welcome back!"

"Thanks," Miguel said with a grin, as we met him by his locker. "What's up?"

"Oh, well you know, the usual," Demetri said, with a gesture of his hand and an expression of long-suffering. "Prepping for finals, finishing up extra credit projects for the semester, and trying to avoid public humiliation in between class periods. A tale as old as whoever decided that attending public high school was compulsory and mandated by state law."

"Huh? I thought law enforcement was here to keep any more fights from breaking out."

"Sure, physical fights," I scoffed. "But we all know Kyler has a talent for making anyone's life miserable when he puts his mind to it."

"Seriously?" Miguel complained.

"He's in Cobra Kai now," Demetri reminded him. "He's basically the king of all assholes."

"Worse than Hawk?" I needled him.

"Yes," he said emphatically. "Kyler's reached entire new levels of assholery. And all because he decided to drink the karate cult Kool-Aid! I knew this entire venture was a raw deal from the beginning, but did anyone listen to me? No!"

"You two still aren't talking?" Miguel asked, ignoring Demetri's impassioned rant and referring to his current fallout with Hawk.

Demetri frowned, but when he didn't immediately respond, I said, "Well? The silent treatment has gone on long enough, I think. When are you two going to make up?"

The warning bell rang with a shriek, and Demetri shrugged. "Saved by the bell," he said blandly, though the conflict in his eyes was clear as day.

"This conversation isn't over," I chided him. "Come on, Miguel, you don't want to be late for your exams."

"Right. Later." Miguel fist-bumped Demetri and we were on our way.

Despite Demetri's reluctance, it was obvious to me that he missed his best friend. But even if he refused to talk to Hawk now, they would soon be forced to set aside their differences. Dealing with Cobra Kai would require nothing less.

"This is day one," Sensei Lawrence called, pacing before us, voice echoing sharply across the dim, cavernous room.

It had taken some direction, but eventually, we had corralled everyone together inside an abandoned factory, owned by something called Webber Industrial. Despite the entire area being a mess, Sensei had successfully cleared up a space at the center, where the twelve of us could line up in neat rows of four along the stained, concrete floor, surrounded by overturned crates and pallets stacked high with old planks of wood.

The place was more hazardous than I'd recalled, air stale with the scent of oil and grime. Our only source of light were the sunrays streaming through a few, broken windowpanes high above, illuminating thick layers of dust, and heavy chains hanging precariously from ceiling hooks and corroded metal beams, leaving the furthest reaches of the room swallowed in darkness.

"―the only way to stop Cobra Kai is by beating them at their own game," Sensei continued his speech, riling everyone up. "We're going to show the world that you're not a bunch of pansy-ass nerds! We're gonna show them that you're tough, because eagles don't get shit on. They're the ones that do the shitting."

Snickers erupted around us.

"Just don't forget, being a badass doesn't mean being an asshole. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sensei!"

With one last sweep of his gaze, Sensei appeared satisfied by our response, and called out, "Fighting positions!"

At his direction, we began moving through our drills, punctuated by our shouts. But for once, Sensei hadn't called on any of us to lead, preferring to do it himself.

I bet he really missed this, I thought, as we struck forward with a jab punch.

Admittedly, the concrete underneath wasn't doing us any favors, the hard, compact floor jolting through the soles of my feet and up to my knees any time we were forced to jump, as we ran through more complicated maneuvers.

We'll have to invest in some mats, I decided. Maybe I shouldn't have dissed the park idea… There was no way I wanted to end up with a sore back just because I got flipped over in the middle of a spar.

Grass would've been more merciful, I thought, already missing the comfort of Hawk's backyard.

Finally, when we were through with our drills and Sensei Lawrance motioned for us to stand at ease, he reached behind him, where he'd piled high a stack of wooden boards, all in a squarish shape, likely scavenged from the factory itself.

"Alright, we're gonna pick up where we left off last week," he began, and held up the first board out. "When I call on you, I want you to come up here and knock this slab of wood out of my hand with a jump spinning roundhouse kick."

Hawk, who stood beside me at the end of the front row, leaned over to me and whispered, "Maybe you were right about that flying tornado kick."

I grinned. "Let's hope so."

"Hawk!" Sensei Lawrence abruptly bellowed, causing us to jolt to attention. "You're up first."

Shoulders set back in determination, Hawk strode forward and positioned himself in front of Sensei, and with shout, executed the maneuver perfectly, twisting and jumping, launching his foot high and smashing the board hard enough for it to crack down the middle as it was kicked out of Sensei's hand, before landing back on his feet.

Sensei nodded in approval and I readied myself, expecting to be called on next, but instead, he yelled, "Assface, get over here."

Mitch, who'd been standing behind Hawk in the lineup, hurried to do as told, while Hawk returned to his place at my side.

"Does my nickname gotta carry over from the previous dojo?" Mitch complained.

"You wanna be Penis Breath?" Sensei asked flatly.

Defeated, he shook his head and said, "Assface is fine." And then proceeded to spin and launch his foot out, slightly clumsy, but successfully smacking the slab of wood out of Sensei's grip.

"Good, Penis Breath," Sensei said. "Miss Lee, you're up."

Admittedly, it took me a while longer to understand Sensei's objective, as he continued to pick students in a more meandering manner than he was prone to do―he was avoiding calling on Miguel, who stood on my other side. Though, going by Miguel's relaxed, but focused, expression, it didn't appear that he'd caught on just yet.

Looking back on Friday's class, when we were still at Hawk's place, it seemed Sensei had been doing the same then. We'd mainly focused on individual sparring sessions to give Sensei a gauge of where everyone was currently at, before he'd used me as a test dummy, ordering me to demo several techniques we needed to improve on, one such being our jump spinning roundhouse. They were all things that would've been corrected sooner if he'd been around to supervise. And before Miguel could test his own skill level, Hawk's mom had come home from work, calling everyone inside to grab a post-training snack, and pulling Sensei Lawrence aside to speak with him.

Technically, today would be Miguel's first real training since before the accident.

Finally, Sensei called on me. "Miss Beckett."

Wordlessly, I stepped forward and fell into my fighting stance. At his nod, I twisted in a tight spin, sprung up, and flung my leg out in a neat kick, snapping the board from his grip, landing first on the ball of my left foot, soon followed by the other.

"Good job," he said. "Diaz, you're up."

Miguel moved to switch places with me, and I reluctantly backed away, returning to my place beside Hawk. I watched, tense, as Sensei Lawrence lifted a new board and gestured for him to go.

Miguel turned and jumped, but failed to deliver a powerful kick, the edge of his foot weakly grazing the wooden corner.

"Alright, good hustle," Sensei decided, pulling away the board. "Who's next?"

But Miguel was quick to argue. "No, I can do it, Sensei."

"Miguel, it's fine."

"I got it," he insisted, voice hard, unwilling to back down.

When Sensei hesitated a second time, I called out, "Come on, Miguel! Just imagine you're kicking Kyler in the face!"

As everyone around me started hooting and cheering for him, Sensei Lawrence lifted the board back towards him. "Alright, get in a side stance," he ordered. "Use the balls of your feet."

I bit the inside of my cheek as I observed Miguel shifting back into position and inhaling a deep breath. Come on, come on, you can do it, I thought, as though, if I prayed hard enough, I could will the strength back into his legs myself.

Once more, Miguel spun and launched himself up, but as he kicked out his right leg, his other leg tilted out of balance beneath him―

"Miguel!" I shouted, rushing over just as he smacked against concrete, landing on his left side.

The rest of the dojo kids hurried behind me, swarming Miguel as I was trying to help him up.

"I'm fine," he said, but when they wouldn't back away, he snapped again, "I'm fine!" And the moment he was steady on his feet, he shook off the hold I had on his arm and stalked away.

"Alright, everybody, take five," Sensei Lawrence called, already backing up, in the direction Miguel had gone. "Go get some water."

I moved to follow after them, but suddenly Hawk was blocking my way, his opposite hand sliding around my elbow in a firm grip, keeping me back. "Hey, just give him some space," he suggested quietly, despite the worry brimming in his blue eyes. "I'm sure Sensei's got it."

I looked past his shoulder, where I could see Sensei Lawrence talking to Miguel, and nodded, resigned. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

Miguel had figured it out well enough for himself in the series. He didn't actually need me holding his hand every step of the way, no matter my urge to do so.

"C'mon, let's get something to drink."

At his tug, I turned and followed after Hawk, trusting that Sensei Lawrence would take care of Miguel.