#chozen

Cobra Kai (the adults)

The Honorable Thing To Do.

Mike Barnes, Johnny Lawrence, Chozen Toguchi (POV) and the non-shippy presence of Reader!Beloved x Terry Silver (Only Mentioned).

Inspired by this post.

―

-"Man, this asshole has more statues than a Vegas casino."-

Johnny Lawrence remarks stumbling through the main pathway of a vast estate comprised of an immaculate trimmed green lawn that resembled a carpet fenced in from all sides by tall, palatial walls and an unusual amount of marble figures dotting the grassy spaciousness of the garden that followed them along the eternity of the grounds, casting long, dark shadows in the cover of night — pillars of carved, pale stone illuminated by a faint moonlight, vines coiling around ankles and wrists, growing in the crevices and curves of sharp, stony edges, seeming like they were deliberately allowed to grow there by a skilled, devoted gardener instead of being old, mossy and unkempt. It was sleek.

A clearly new addition to the fortress of the dragon.

It was quiet, too quiet, as they snuck in, or at least tried to, somehow, in their inebriated state, the sound of their footsteps along the tiled pavement echoed back as uncharacteristically loud in his ears. What struck Chozen the most, he supposed, that they were all chiseled images of women made out of white granite and that the enemy’s domain, well, it was undeniably beautiful, all palm trees, perfectly kept magnolia bushes, decorative rocks, vines and a sleek, colossal front door in front of them, made from what seemed like polished, pitch black Oak. This was it. End of the line. Mike Barnes wordlessly lifts his leg on instinct, intending to crash through with a kick only to be stopped by a slurring Johnny. One too many drinks tonight. No good. The feeling here wasn’t good either. Not what Chozen expected it to be going in. Too serene. Too lulling. Like the quiet before the storm. Like an ambush. A trap on the enemy's own turf and territory. Chozen carefully leans against the surface of the mansion’s entrance, intent on listening. Trying to catch a sound from the great indoors. Complete and utter quietude. He’d almost prefer it if he’d catch the sound of something. Anything. -"No, no, no. That looks heavy as shit. You’ll break your foot."- Johnny chastises, shoving Mike out of the way, getting into a stance of his own instead. -"I’ll do it."- He offers blatantly, and no, not smart, Chozen concludes. They weren't smart right now. They were drunk. Not drunk enough to not be aware they were drunk. Last thing they needed was to trigger whatever hidden alarm system this manor had in place by breaking down the front door and causing enough noise to wake up half of the city. For a man of this much abundance to leave his home unattended, it just wasn’t feasible, but to his surprise, the palm of his hand resting on the dark wood moves and the door slides ajar along with it.

Unlocked?

And no one at home?

Why?

If it the questions didn’t compound skyhigh by then, they’d certainly tumble over right there and then, like a tower made out of cards.

He leads the way, figuring someone had to, and he gestures, ushering the two men behind him into the darkness, minding his steps trying to keep their balance along the surface of the floor that blurred and narrowed through the haziness of his eyesight, causing him to stumbling into what seemed like an open, marble floor lobby descending into small winding corridors, somewhat labyrinthian in nature, if memory served from his last visit here. Many rooms. Many cameras. Many hidden places. Many weapons, Chozen reminds himself, nearly jumping if only due to a momentary distraction, fingers squeezed into fists on the ready, long shadows cast by the reflection of the lobby’s mirrors concealing the silhouette of a person, standing in the doorway quietly. Not large enough to be Silver himself, but nonetheless, a somebody. His intuition told him it was too silent on premises; that something about that was innately suspicious, and as if on cue, Lawrence’s reaction is the loudest, breaking through the noiselessness of the hall, cutting like a knife, putting all three of them on immediate alert and the shadow shaped like a person stirs and moves, head and shoulders perfectly sharp in outlines against the light  coming in from the garden, the body shapeless, a black blur in the murky dimness of the entrance foyer. The face? Concealed and pitch black. Seemingly almost entirely featureless, save for the tip of tip of a nose. The outline of a mouth. Someone who deliberately avoided moving to, in equal measure, avoid detection. -"Holy shit!"- Johnny yelps, staggering forward, eyes squinty, like he was trying to make out the details in front of him and failing to do so with precision, only for his nostrils to widen with surprise, leaving Chozen to stare back and forth between him and the blackness at the edge of the immense atrium. -"What’s this? Molly Ringwald in ‘For Keeps’ meets the Poltergeist or some shit?"- Johnny stutters and the confusion deepens, swirling, the reference an unknown, and quickly rendered irrelevant once Chozen catches the outline of a hand on a torso traveling lower, landing on what he recognized as a belly. The airflow of breath hitches in his throat. There was nobody here but a woman in a wide nightgown, halfway embracing herself for comfort, in an obvious bout of anxiety judging by her body language.

Someone terrified of them and trying not to show it.

-"I’ll call the police."-

She says, trying for an obvious air of firmness in an attempt to intimidate them, but her voice coming through shaky. Scared. Her demand unintentionally relayed more as a plea, less like a threat. The needle of instant regret is there, looming, pinching something inside of Chozen, digging beneath layers of skin.

Hostage?

No, no. Something else. A hostage would immediately run over, pleading for help.

Begging to be rescued.

-"He keeping you here by force or something!? Okay, where’s the cameras?"- 

Johnny bombastically voices his exact concerns, spewing fire, staring daggers at the corners of the walls looking for blinking red lights watching them from some hidden security room, practically spitting his words and Mike brushes past him, ever the irritant, nearly crashing into him, unfettered, voice gruff and unimpressed, his footsteps loud, wide and booming. Impatient. Determined. Like he intended to demolish the place just for the sake of doing so, irregardless if the owner was present to see it or not, perhaps precisely because he wasn't present to see it or even stop it, giving him no fighting chance, intending to strike from the back, unexpected, kicking below the belt. Aggrieved former student. Lots of anger. He leads the way, practically charging as he ranted in stride, marching deeper into the foyer.

-"I know this guy’s tricks and he’s full of them! A subversion. To distract us. Don’t fall for it! He did worse crap for far less! But, this one’s really bottom of the barrel! Lets go!"-

The needle presses on invisibly and Chozen reaches forward, running after Barnes before he could do something bad, grabbing his forearm, stopping him. Dragging him back. The garden light illuminated by solar pipes and flares casts a ray of distant, pale brightness on the human shaped silhouette in front of them, and all Chozen sees is dignity veiled by fear, frozen in place. This was the shadow’s home and it didn’t intend to flinch, but was nonetheless too frightened and too alone to fight back. This was someone important. To Silver. The hand on the end of its torso guarding someone even more special. -"No."- His demand is final. Simple.

-"His woman."-

He explains hastily, watching Barnes’ face grow from a mask of fury to complete and utter bafflement, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, mouth sliding agape, his wrath caught in a stalemate, having nowhere to go or to be channeled, Barnes expresses it by yanking his hand free and pacing vigorously, not unlike someone trying to walk off the side effects of their intoxication. Clear their head. This was Terry Silver’s woman and his unborn child they just stumbled upon. Johnny approaches him in the midst of Barnes doing exasperated circles around the room, head thrown back and he looks at Chozen, really looks at him, extending his arm forward, pointing at the person who’s acquaintance they accidentally made. Chozen imagines a baby’s crib, standing in a bedroom. A curtain. Terry Silver looming above it. Watching out into the night. He lied. He lied when they talked about their true ambitions. When Silver said his one regret was not having any children to continue his legacy. It was obvious now. He lied, because he didn't want anyone to know. Not the genuine facts of the matter. Didn't want anyone to jeopardize any of it. When a man starts lying about things in order to hide them, a man's keeping a weakness hidden, willing to do anything and everything to avoid having it be exploited by outside forces. Chozen closes his eyes, contemplating things. Big mistake. Coming here. Huge. -"The guy’s like eighty!"- Johnny shouts, outraged. Sato was eighty too at one point in time and he had entertainers come over at the end of every work week to pour his Sake too. Being old meant nothing. The puzzle pieces, though. They fall into place. Creating a cohesive picture. An understanding. An understanding only confirmed once the face of the person in front of them is partially illuminated from a nearby window and the recognition is near instant. It hits him like a flash of lightning. -"All over the garden."- Chozen attempts to explain, certain he wouldn’t be outright understood anyway that he was trying to tell them that they bypassed this silhouette at least half a dozen times, only in the form of carved marble. Silver had filled the premises of his estate with her likeness. Unbidden, Kumiko comes to mind and all the ways their village used to be plastered with the home made variation of posters whenever she’d perform during celebrations. She too, was loved. By everyone.

-"His woman."-

He carefully points to her and then lower, to the protective shield of her hand and what it was hiding.

At this point, Chozen’s whispering, as if though him speaking could actually disrupt the nap of the unborn in the womb, catching himself doing it, feeling the tipsiness engulf him like a swift tide and finding the gesture silly.

 -"His baby."-  

Johnny scoffs in a mixture of disbelief, drunkenness, snark and the obvious feeling of being entirely at a loss for words, joining an exasperated Mike in their nervous, anger-fueled, partially embarrassed pacing. Sensitive topic? Due to his and Carmen-san’s blessing on the way? They should go. They should go now. You lift up a nearby object from a nearby commode, placing it over your head, defensively; a warning to anyone, that if they step closer, or if they refuse to listen to the given demands, there was a blunt object at hand on the ready, even though, by the looks of you, the rounded, swollen shape of your belly outlining and rounding the edges of your night gown, Chozen was certain you’d attack no one and certainly not three men, calling your bluff. That you couldn’t even if you wanted to, and that grabbing what seemed like a metal, decorative candle holder was simply meant to highlight your horror and desperation and how badly you wanted to be left alone, like a cornered animal bearing its teeth. Your voice squeaks and instinctively, Chozen  lifts his hands up, trying to pacify you. Assure you that he wouldn’t. He wouldn't hurt you and he wouldn't let anyone else hurt you either. He left the path of dishonor behind a long time ago, taking a step back, wanting to disappear as uneventfully as possible, fingers hooking themselves into the seams of Johnny’s sleeve and dragging him back with himself too, once you plead, eyes shimmery in the darkness, brightened by the presence of suppressed tears. Daniel and Amanda-san never told him about the existence woman and they lived here for decades. Did they know at all? -"Please, leave. Please."- You beg, out of breath, standing your ground frozen like a deer caught in the headlights, looking like it hurt to stand as long as you were standing in only your house slippers burdened under the weight of your own belly propped up with one arm. Barnes explodes, lounging forward, impatience and impulsiveness culminating in a roar fire that was harder and harder to put out by the minute, his legs floundering mid-movement. Like mud and water, it wasn't good putting together a drunk, pissed off man who's own family was under fire and the family of the man who did it all. Barnes was out for blood. Smelled it like a clumsy, starved shark.

-"I had enough of this crap! Had a couple of drinks, yeah, okay, but I’m not getting conned like this! Where is he!? What hole did he crawl into!? She could be literally anyone and we’re falling for the oldest trick in the book! You think paying an actor stand-in is beneath him!? Nothing’s beneath him! He’s the father of lies!"-

Chozen’s legs move on their own accord and without him even having the chance to think, and before he knows it, he’s cut off Mike’s way, placing his body in front of him like a barrier and his hand to the man’s chest, letting him go no further. There would be days for revenge. But, it would be not this day. This night. Decades of striving to make things right with one’s soul wouldn’t be lost tonight. Chozen invested too much in his soul to drag it through the gutter all over again. -"No! We’re leaving. Honorable thing to do."- He whispers, head bent, the open palm of his hand never flinching from the surface of Barnes’ chest heaving with irritation and then ultimately, cooling down in the cloud of surrender, brows furrowed like he loathed to be told what to do They came here to deal with Silver, fueled by the euphoria of liquid courage, not antagonize a sobbing, pregnant woman. Barnes' features dropped like he was willing to begrudgingly accept that.

Chozen turns to you, speaking softly. Slowly.

-"Our business not with you."-

He couldn’t tell what you looked like. Not entirely. Not in this lack of light.

But, he swears he spots the wave of relief wash over you through a blur.

He bows with his full body facing forward, bent towards you, feeling it’s the correct gesture, throwing in a tiny smile for good measure, wondering if it'll alleviate the tension in the air. Not come off as mockery. As disingenious. The battle is always between the combatants.  Involving the innocent — makes the battle dirty. Low. Cheapens the victory. Cheapens even the act of participation itself.

Chozen reminded himself that mantra every day for thirty years.

 -"Apologies for intrusion."-

He excuses himself in a clipped manner, lifting his lower body up just as quickly as he paid his respects and Chozen’s out the door, dragging the two fools along with him, giving one last quick bow once his foot stepped over the precipice, his hand closing the door behind him, watching you lower the candelabra, your shoulders suddenly dropping. -"Have a pleasant evening. Gomenasai."- He throws in a final line, speaking Japanese with the conviction that it sounded more sincere and profound than a mere 'Sorry' in English, closing the entrance to the mansion with a loud thud and exhaling, suddenly realizing he’s been keeping his breath for far too long and that Barnes and Lawrence were standing by his side, humbled, eying the door with incredulity, appearing defeated, halfway on the verge of barging back inside, halfway on the verge of questioning what drove them to come here in the first place, the answer being drinks. Mostly the drinks. Terry Silver would come for them for this, Chozen knew, if for any reason, then simply for daring to frighten someone his --- and he paces, walking away from the marble front porch, realizing he needed to be ready. They all needed to be ready. There would be war. For every single tear you cried here tonight. For every bit of stress you suffered. Possibly even the very fact that they saw you and discovered your existence in the first place when it was so obvious now the enemy wanted you hidden. Terry Silver wanted you hidden. -"That’s some bullshit!"- Johnny huffs, protesting catching up with him, Barnes right on his tail, appearing gloomy, eyes dark and distant. The estate grounds open up around them and there they are, marble women with marble eyes, staring into nothing. Lawrence stares at them with suspicion, gaze oscillating between watching the premises lest something came alive and jumped them from the darkness and being in Chozen’s ear, ranting feverishly in a quick stride. Your image surrounds the whole manor. Loved. You must've been very loved. -"I didn’t even know the ponytailed prick had a chick and a bun in the oven!"- Hai. Exactly. Precisely. Treasure’s no longer a treasure if everyone has a key to its keep. If everyone knows where it's buried. Chozen shakes his head, feeling his lips press into a firm line; something inside of him told him there would be consequences for this. A payback. A settling of the scores. And this time around, a lot more than just Barnes’ livelihood would burn and he couldn’t decide if Silver was more dangerous while he seemingly didn’t have who to lose or now that they discovered that he has.

 -"That’s whole point. Not to know."-