The days following his first sparring session in Cobra Kai were a blur of drills, lessons, and constant internal adjustments for Mike. He'd spent years in combat zones, faced enemies far more dangerous than any high school dojo could offer, but here, it felt like he was on unfamiliar terrain. His body was young again, full of energy, but his mind was still burdened by the ghosts of his past—his training, his experience, the weight of the wars he'd fought in.
Johnny had been skeptical, but he'd given Mike a chance to teach. He hadn't fully embraced Mike's more strategic approach, but Johnny was smart enough to recognize that there was something valuable in what the former soldier had to offer. Slowly, Mike found himself pulling the students aside during breaks, explaining the finer points of combat that went beyond mere brute force.
He found Miguel particularly receptive to his lessons. The boy was hungry to prove himself, and Mike saw a reflection of his younger self in him—the same determination, the same raw potential that had driven Mike to succeed in the military. Miguel was no longer just a student; he was a protege, someone Mike could teach, someone Mike could guide.
But there was also something else about Miguel that Mike couldn't ignore. Beneath the tough exterior, Miguel had his own demons—his father's absence, his struggle with fitting in at school, his desire to be more than just a fighter. Mike understood all too well what it was like to be weighed down by personal battles while trying to maintain strength on the outside.
"Focus," Mike said as he corrected Miguel's stance during a break in their sparring session. "It's not just about throwing punches. It's about keeping control—of yourself, of the fight, and of your emotions. If you can't control your mind, you'll never control your body."
Miguel nodded, sweat dripping from his forehead. "I get it, Mike. But it's hard. Sometimes I just wanna hit someone back before they hit me."
Mike's gaze softened slightly. "I understand. I've been there. But fighting out of anger isn't strength—it's weakness. The strongest people I've ever known are the ones who know how to control their anger, their fear. They're the ones who don't let emotions dictate their actions."
Johnny, who had been observing from the sidelines, snorted. "That's your thing, huh? Control your emotions? Come on, Mike. This isn't some therapy session. This is Cobra Kai. We teach them to fight, to win."
Mike didn't turn to face Johnny but kept his attention on Miguel. "Winning is more than just beating someone in a fight. If you lose control, you're not just losing the fight—you're losing yourself."
Johnny walked over, his boots clicking against the floor. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. But these kids don't need a therapist. They need to know how to survive in the real world. That means being tough, not sitting around thinking about their feelings."
Mike finally turned to Johnny, his expression unreadable. "There's more to survival than just being tough, Johnny. Mental fortitude is just as important as physical strength. If these kids want to survive the battles of life, they need more than just brute force."
Johnny looked at him for a long moment, sizing him up before letting out a sigh. "Alright, alright. But don't get too soft on them. That's my job."
Mike didn't respond. He knew Johnny was a man driven by anger, by his own need to prove something—something Mike understood all too well. Johnny's way had worked for him in the past, but Mike was starting to wonder if there was another path, a better way. A way that didn't end with broken people.
A Few Days Later
Mike's thoughts were interrupted when he found himself standing in the hallway of the dojo one evening, staring at a framed picture on the wall. It was a photo of a younger Johnny Lawrence, looking proud and cocky, surrounded by his Cobra Kai classmates. The picture was clearly old—Johnny's hair was longer, and the dojo had a different energy back then, but the pride was the same. The sense of victory, the sense of being invincible.
Mike stared at the image, wondering what had happened to Johnny. Had the man who led Cobra Kai all those years ago been so different from the one standing in front of him now? Johnny seemed lost, drowning in his own bitterness, unable to let go of the past. And yet, there was something undeniably magnetic about him—a warrior's spirit buried beneath all that anger.
"You know," a voice called from behind him, "sometimes it's hard to look at yourself in the mirror."
Mike turned to see Johnny walking toward him, wiping his hands on a towel. There was something unspoken in his tone, something that Mike could sense but not fully understand.
"What do you mean?" Mike asked.
Johnny shrugged. "This whole thing. Cobra Kai. It's not what it used to be. I'm not what I used to be. And I don't know how to fix it." He paused, glancing at the photo. "I was a champion once. I had everything going for me. But now? I just feel... stuck."
Mike let the silence stretch between them for a moment. He understood more than Johnny knew. He had fought in wars, led men, watched people die, and yet here he was, in a new body, in a new life, trying to find a new purpose. But the difference was, Mike was still trying to believe there was a way forward. Johnny, it seemed, had given up on that.
"You're not stuck, Johnny," Mike finally said, his voice low but firm. "You're just lost. But even a lost man can find his way if he's willing to face the truth."
Johnny stared at him for a moment, then scoffed. "You sound like my shrink."
Mike didn't respond. He didn't need to. He knew Johnny wasn't ready to hear what he had to say. Not yet.
But maybe, just maybe, there was hope for him. There was hope for all of them.
Later that Night
Mike sat alone in the dojo after hours, deep in thought. The weight of his past, the guilt, the loss, it all felt like it was closing in on him again. It was hard not to think about the wars he had fought, the soldiers he had lost. It was hard not to feel like he was just wasting time in this new life.
But as he stood up, he looked over at the students—Miguel, Hawk, and the others—working together, pushing each other, learning from one another. Mike had come here for a reason. He didn't know what that reason was yet, but maybe this was his second chance to make a difference. Maybe this was the fight that mattered.
He took a deep breath and walked toward the training mats. He didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but he was ready to face it. He had fought wars. He had survived. And now, in this new life, he was going to teach these kids how to survive too—just as he had once learned to survive in the toughest conditions imaginable.
Because no matter what world he found himself in, Mike Harris knew one thing for sure: survival was the only battle that truly mattered.