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“Nichols.”
Despite all reason to expect otherwise, there is something almost fond in his voice as it falls on her ears. For a moment it is all she can do not to shiver, or to run – hairs prickling along the back of her neck as her spine stiffens. It takes her the space of a few breaths to turn, trying to steel herself for the sight of him. She can imagine it well in her mind: his cool, matter of fact expression, the relaxed set of his shoulders. The disappointment in his gaze. I don’t owe him anything. Nothing at all . (Even as she thinks it, it rings hollow. How many of his own moves has she used already in this tournament? How many times has she wondered why her dues were still mysteriously paid at the Dojo, even after Sensei Kreese left?) When she finally brings herself to move, her body angling toward him with her chin lifted, already projecting whatever bravado she can muster, she is struck by the pleasantness of his expression, his hands clasped, his head angled down. It takes her off guard . . . reminds her of how patient he can be. Tory swallows thickly, her voice laced, too, with the same inflated scorn that commands her body language.
“What do you want?” He exhales through his nose at her question, looking down at the floor beneath them as his lips part, his tongue peeking through them in an almost imperceptible movement. Her own lips part, brows drawn in confusion which verges on frustration , her hands balling into fists at her side.
“I see you feel similarly to Mister Payne. That’s a shame . . .” Silver looks back up at her, his face still mostly aimed toward the ground, something hidden in his gaze that she does not know how to begin unpicking. After a moment, his lips purse and he lifts his head, his shoulders seeming to square themselves as his chin raises. “I’ve always liked you, Nichols. I’m surprised to see you here.” Tory scoffs a laugh, nodding with a sour look on her face, a knowing look – like she might have suspected as much.
“Yeah, well. Guess all that crap about me being a champion was just talk, huh?” His head tilts, his own brows knitting above his eyes, the purse of his lips more pronounced. “Didn’t think I could make it, right? That I’d just give up after the Dojo closed? No way.”
“Oh,” Silver shakes his head slowly, his mouth open, amused, like she’s misunderstood him, and his only intention is to clear the air . “No, I don’t mean here, at the tournament . You belong here. What I’m surprised to see…” His hands part, and he nods toward her body in time with the gesture of his hands, quiet until they fall back to clasp in front of him. “Is you here, in that Gi, with your old Sensei.”
“Sensei Kreese was always my Sensei.”
“Was he, Nichols?” Again her confusion reasserts itself, but even to her it feels more for show than anything. I don’t have anything to say to you . She forgot to say as much to Silver, didn’t she? For Kreese, the hurt is not so much remembered as it is enduring, ongoing – and she wonders why what lies between her and the man before her now feels like the past … like some other version of herself.
“Yeah, well. It’s not like you care.” She shrugs, her chin lifting even higher as she attempts to make herself sound as dismissive as possible. Unaffected. Collected. Focused.
Terry frowns, the action deepening the lines on his face, and she feels uncomfortable at the sight of it. There is some movement of his mouth, the inside of his lip bitten by his teeth or sucked in, she cannot quite tell, but he looks to be mulling something over, and she finds herself dreading what it might be. Concerned he may say something to knock her off balance, yet again. Something casually disarming, something confusing. Something like, I will make you the future of this Dojo.
“I’m truly sorry that I’ve left you with that impression, Nichols.” Tory’s gaze is caught by the tapping of his finger against the back of his palm. “I do care. I don’t expect you to believe that, but it is true. I have never lied to you, not since we discussed the All-Valley. I respect you more than that.”
For a moment, she is struck silent, barely resisting the urge to physically recoil from his words. Confusing, yes. It is always difficult to divine his angle, so hard to know what he really wants , not just from her, but from everyone.
“Yeah, I don’t buy it. You’re just here because you want to get back at Kreese, and Mister LaRusso, and everyone else who has stood in your way. You’re here because you want to win.” Once again, his head tilts, this time a faint upward quirk of his lips coming with it, but it does not seem especially amused.
“And why are you here, Nichols?”
Her mouth opens, and then closes, the crease between her eyebrows deepening as she looks away from him, toward some distant spot to the side of him, to the ceiling, finally settling back on his face as he frowns once more, and parts his hands, taking a half step toward her. Tory surprises herself by not stepping back, her head lifting by necessity to keep his gaze.
“For what it’s worth, Nichols – which I will venture to guess is very little … I still believe you’re a Champion. I always have. Of – all the Cobra Kais I inherited from Kreese, you were the first I saw real promise in. And since we’re talking about it, maybe I should tell you … I can recognize, now, some of the mistakes I made. Not all,” he pauses here, and Tory can do nothing but stare up at him, her mouth dry as he exhales something like a rueful laugh. “I won’t be as bold as to assume I am aware of every way that I have failed you, but I am … viscerally aware of the most damning examples.” His hands come together in front of him, this time just below his chest, his fingers absently stroking the skin of his opposite knuckles, his expression thoughtful.
“I should never have done what I did at the All-Valley. I confess I did not have a great deal of faith in some of the other students, but I should have trusted you, and your instincts. If the LaRusso girl had gotten that second point on you in the final – well. I have seen you, when you fight for your survival. I know what you can do. I know it would have made you fiercer. And that business with Kim …” He shakes his head, glancing down to where her hand is still balled in a fist at her side, his gaze then directed up at her from under his lashes, unbearably direct, and frighteningly earnest. “I should never have subjected you to that. I was wrong. I won’t lie and say that the betrayal at the Dojo didn’t sting, or that I was never angry…” Silver’s mouth is once again left parted, and she can see how the next breath he takes expands his chest, and lifts his shoulders – like some invisible weight is being lifted from him. “What I can say, is what concerns me more than that, is seeing you like this. Back under Kreese … ostracized, as best as I can tell, from Miyagi-Do, and Mister Keene. Who, it seems you may have counted as your saviors, when we lost Cobra Kai. Once again, it looks like your future is ahead of you, and being guided by the wrong hands.”
“Yeah?” It comes out rushed, her mind gone numb between her ears, her voice stressed and tight as she struggles to find the right words after his speech. Confusing. Unsettling. Earnest . “So whose hands are the right ones, huh? Let me guess – yours? ” Terry’s smile is small, oddly kind, and it makes her feel sick, and small, and seen.
“Yours, Tory. Always yours. I’ve had to learn that myself, the hard way.” He nods shallowly, almost to himself as he looks at her, his attention sliding over her face slowly. After a moment, his hands part and slide into his pockets, and he takes another half step toward her as Tory’s gaze drops to stare blindly toward his chest. “I really do wish you luck. If you see me on the sidelines, just know some part of me is always rooting for you. No matter where your loyalties lie.”
Tory stands incredibly still, feeling the movement of air past her as he disappears after looking down at her a moment longer, the smell of him lingering behind, warm, and clean, and metallic. When she turns to find his back, to reaffirm to herself that he had been there, that he had said those things, she finds him nowhere except in that clinging scent, and the prickling skin on her arms.