"In 1984, my father, Daniel Sr., competed in the All-Valley Under-18 Karate Tournament, emerging victorious with the guidance and support of his mentor and friend, Mr. Miyagi. Fast forward to today, Mr. Miyagi is no longer with us, and my dad now runs a successful car dealership, carrying forward the lessons and values instilled in him by his cherished mentor."

In the present

At the LaRusso house

DJ stepped out of his bedroom, the quiet hum of the early morning filling the LaRusso house. He yawned as he made his way to the kitchen, where he found his mother, Amanda, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee, and his father, Daniel, seated at the table, flipping through some paperwork.

"Morning, DJ," Amanda greeted with a warm smile. "You're up early for once."

DJ shrugged, heading straight for the fridge. "Guess I was hungry," he mumbled, still shaking off the last remnants of sleep. He opened the fridge door and scanned the shelves. "Do we still have any of that leftover pizza?"

Daniel glanced up from his papers, smiling. "Breakfast of champions, huh? Top shelf on the right."

"Thanks," DJ said, grabbing the box and setting it on the counter. He pulled out a slice and popped it into the microwave, leaning against the counter as it warmed up. "What's the big meeting today, Dad? You're usually not up this early either."

Daniel chuckled. "Just going over some dealership numbers. Gotta make sure everything's running smoothly before the weekend rush."

Amanda raised an eyebrow. "Smoothly? You mean trying to keep Louie from convincing customers they need premium undercoating they didn't ask for?"

"Hey, he's enthusiastic," Daniel replied defensively, though his smile betrayed him.

The microwave beeped, and DJ grabbed his pizza, taking a bite as he moved to sit at the table. "So, anything fun happening today, or is it just another 'adulting is boring' kind of Friday?"

Amanda laughed softly. "Oh, it's always an adventure around here. Just wait until your dad remembers he promised to help clean out the garage."

Daniel shot her a mock glare. "I didn't forget—I'm just... prioritizing."

DJ smirked. "Right. Prioritizing your coffee over manual labor. Smart move."

Daniel leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with a grin. "You've got your mother's sense of humor, that's for sure."

Amanda gave DJ a wink. "And don't you forget it."

The three of them sat together for a moment, the light banter filling the kitchen with warmth. DJ might have been groggy and half-focused on his pizza, but he couldn't help appreciating the rare, easy moments like this—a reminder of the simple strength of family.

DJ finished his slice of pizza, wiping his hands on a napkin before standing up and stretching. "Alright, I'm gonna head out. School's calling," he said, his voice laced with mock enthusiasm.

Amanda smirked. "Wow, that's a new one—DJ actually wanting to go to school. Should I call the principal to make sure it's really you?"

DJ rolled his eyes as he walked over to the counter, grabbing his bag. "Very funny, Mom. I just don't want to get another lecture from Mrs. Decker about showing up late. She acts like I'm ruining her whole day."

Daniel chuckled, folding his papers neatly. "Punctuality does make a good impression, DJ. Trust me, it's a skill that'll take you far."

DJ slung his bag over his shoulder and gave his dad a half-smile. "Noted, Dad. I'll make sure to tattoo that on my brain."

"Have a good day," Amanda said, walking over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "And don't forget about your math quiz."

DJ groaned as he stepped toward the door. "Thanks for the reminder, Mom. Just what I needed to start my morning."

As he opened the door, Daniel called out, "Hey, DJ!"

DJ paused, looking back. "Yeah?"

"Be yourself," Daniel said with a small smile. "You'll do great."

DJ gave a slight nod, a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. "Thanks, Dad. See you guys later."

With that, he stepped outside, closing the door behind him. Amanda and Daniel stood in the kitchen for a moment, sharing a quiet look.

"He's got that LaRusso charm," Amanda said with a grin. "But don't let it go to his head."

Daniel laughed softly. "Yeah, well, let's just hope he remembers to turn in his homework this time."

The house fell quiet again as they returned to their routines, the warmth of their family moment lingering in the air.

At school

At school, DJ strolled through the bustling hallways, his bag slung over one shoulder as he made his way to his locker. The usual morning chaos surrounded him—students chatting, lockers slamming, and the occasional teacher trying to corral the stragglers to class.

As DJ twisted the lock and opened his locker, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"Well, if it isn't LaRusso Junior," Kyler sneered, leaning casually against the neighboring lockers with his ever-present smirk. His cronies stood nearby, chuckling on cue. "What's up, DJ? Still trying to live up to Daddy's name?"

DJ sighed, refusing to rise to the bait as he grabbed a couple of books. "Not today, Kyler. Just leave me alone, okay?"

"Oh, come on," Kyler said, stepping closer. "Don't be like that. I'm just making conversation. I mean, it's gotta be tough being you—always in Daddy's shadow, trying to prove you're not a total loser."

The cronies laughed, and DJ clenched his jaw, slamming his locker shut. "You done?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Kyler tilted his head mockingly. "Nah, I'm just getting started. What's that you've got there? Math book? Guess you need all the help you can get to pass, huh?"

DJ's grip on the book tightened, but he forced himself to stay calm. "At least I'm here to learn something. What's your excuse? Extra credit in being a jerk?"

A few nearby students stifled laughs, and Kyler's smirk faltered for a moment before he stepped even closer, trying to reassert control. "Watch your mouth, LaRusso. You think you're funny, huh?"

DJ held his ground, his heart pounding but his voice steady. "No, I just think I've got better things to do than listen to you. So if you're done, I've got class."

Kyler narrowed his eyes, clearly not used to DJ talking back. "You better watch yourself," he muttered, stepping back but keeping his glare fixed on DJ. "This isn't over."

As Kyler and his group moved away, DJ let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. A girl from his math class, Mia, approached with a smile.

"Nice comeback," she said. "That guy's such a tool."

DJ managed a small smile. "Yeah, well, he's not exactly subtle."

Mia nodded, walking alongside him as they headed toward class. "You handled it better than most people would. Don't let him get to you."

DJ shrugged. "Easier said than done."

As they entered the classroom, DJ couldn't help but feel a little lighter. He might have to deal with Kyler again, but for now, he'd stood his ground—and that felt like a small victory.

At night

DJ stepped into the small grocery store, the bell above the door jingling softly as he entered. The warm, fluorescent lights gave the place a cozy, familiar feel. He glanced around, spotting just a few other shoppers meandering through the aisles. Grabbing a handbasket from the stack near the entrance, he pulled out the list Amanda had scribbled for him.

"Milk, bread, snacks," he read aloud quietly, starting his search.

The store was quaint, with narrow aisles packed neatly with goods. DJ walked to the back where the small refrigerator section was located. He grabbed a carton of milk, checking the date just like Amanda had taught him. Satisfied, he placed it into his basket and moved toward the bread rack by the wall. The options were limited, but he quickly grabbed a loaf of whole wheat, figuring it was a safe bet.

The snack section was a little trickier. Amanda hadn't been specific, so DJ took a moment to browse. His eyes landed on a bag of chips, and then he saw a small rack of candy nearby. Smiling to himself, he grabbed a chocolate bar for good measure. "Definitely need this," he muttered, tossing it into the basket.

DJ made his way toward the small counter near the front of the store. Behind it, a friendly-looking older man with glasses was arranging a display of gum and mints. He looked up and gave DJ a welcoming smile.

"Find everything you needed?" the man asked as DJ placed his items on the counter.

"Yeah, I think so," DJ replied, pulling out his wallet.

The man rang up the items on an old-fashioned register, each beep and clack adding to the charm of the small store. DJ handed over a few bills, and the man handed him a brown paper bag with his purchases inside.

DJ was about to leave the store when he noticed a blonde-haired older man approaching the counter. The man leaned casually against it and pointed at a slice of pizza sitting under the heat lamp. "Hey, can I get that slice of pizza?" he asked.

The clerk nodded, walking over to retrieve the slice. As he placed it on a small paper plate, the blonde-haired man frowned. "Shouldn't you be wearing gloves?" he asked, his tone half-joking but with a hint of annoyance.

Before the clerk could respond, a young, black-haired boy walked up beside him. The clerk switched to Spanish, addressing the boy with a few quick sentences while he continued preparing the food. The blonde-haired man furrowed his brow, clearly lost.

"What did he say?" he asked, looking at the boy.

The boy smirked and replied, "You don't want to know."

DJ couldn't help but chuckle quietly to himself at the exchange. Deciding he'd seen enough, he made his way out of the store. Once outside, he leaned against one of the support beams near the entrance, unwrapping the candy bar he'd bought. He took a bite, the sweet chocolate melting in his mouth as he watched cars pull in and out of the small parking lot.

The night was cool and calm, the faint buzz of the store's neon sign humming above him. For a moment, he felt content, enjoying the quiet atmosphere and the simple treat in his hand.

A jeep pulled up to the parking lot, its engine rumbling as DJ watched Kyler and his group of friends pile out, their voices carrying over the quiet night. Laughing and shoving each other, they didn't notice DJ leaning against the support beam near the store entrance. Without sparing a glance, they headed inside, their boisterous energy cutting through the calm.

Moments later, the blonde-haired man stepped out of the store, holding his slice of pizza. He leaned against the wall near DJ, taking a bite as he struck up a conversation with a homeless woman who had been sitting nearby. Their quiet exchange added an odd, peaceful backdrop to the unfolding tension.

Inside, the black-haired boy from earlier was suddenly shoved out of the store, stumbling as Kyler followed close behind. "What the hell are you doing in my spot?!" Kyler shouted, his voice filled with anger.

"Dude, I—" the boy stammered, trying to explain.

Kyler sneered, cutting him off. "He thought we were in college, dumbass!"

The boy looked confused and flustered. "I didn't know you were trying to buy beer. I'm sorry."

Kyler shoved him again, this time harder, sending the boy sprawling onto the ground. Laughter erupted from Kyler's group, echoing through the parking lot.

Brucks, one of Kyler's lackeys, smirked and said, "Yeah, let's go."

But Kyler wasn't done. Spotting the small bottle of Pepto-Bismol the boy had dropped, he picked it up, holding it up mockingly. "Ooh, what do we got here? Pepto? Oh, shit. Someone's got frickin' diarrhea!"

The group burst into laughter as Brucks added, "Hey, we should call him Rhea from now on."

The black-haired boy scrambled to his feet, his voice desperate. "Guys, give it back, dude. It's for my grandma!"

Kyler feigned sympathy, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, it's for your grandma? Damn, I'm sorry, man. Here, you can have it. Take all of it!" With a cruel grin, he unscrewed the cap and poured the bright pink liquid over the boy's head, his friends howling with laughter.

DJ had been watching in silence, his grip tightening on the now-empty candy bar wrapper in his hand. But this was the last straw. He stepped forward, his voice sharp and commanding as he shouted, "Hey! Leave him alone!"

The laughter stopped, and all eyes turned toward DJ, who stood his ground, his fists clenched and his glare locked on Kyler and his friends. The parking lot fell silent, save for the faint hum of the neon sign and the distant sound of cars passing by on the street.

Kyler turned toward the voice, his smirk faltering when he recognized who it was. "Well, well, well," he drawled, his usual cocky tone returning as he stepped closer. "If it isn't DJ LaRusso. What's the matter? Decided to come out of your daddy's shadow to play hero?"

DJ didn't flinch, his eyes locked on Kyler. "Just leave the guy alone, Kyler. He hasn't done anything to you."

Kyler's friends chuckled, but Kyler held up a hand to silence them, clearly relishing the attention. "Oh, so now you're the moral police? That's cute, DJ. Really. But maybe you should mind your own business before you get hurt."

DJ crossed his arms, standing his ground. "Or maybe you should stop acting like a jerk every time you're out in public. What, you need an audience to feel important?"

Kyler's smirk vanished, replaced by a flash of anger. He stepped even closer, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. "You've got a big mouth, LaRusso. You think you can just walk in here and tell me what to do?"

DJ didn't back down. "I'm not telling you what to do. I'm telling you to stop being a bully. It's pathetic."

The black-haired boy, still wiping the Pepto-Bismol off his face, watched in stunned silence, glancing between DJ and Kyler. The homeless woman near the blonde-haired man whispered something to him, and the man nodded, taking another bite of his pizza as if gauging whether he should intervene.

Kyler's friends shifted uneasily, clearly waiting to see how their leader would respond. Brucks muttered, "C'mon, Kyler. Let's just go. This kid's not worth it."

But Kyler ignored him, stepping even closer to DJ, the space between them almost nonexistent now. "You think you're some kind of tough guy, don't you? Riding on your dad's name, walking around like you're better than everyone else."

DJ stood his ground, refusing to be intimidated. "This isn't about my dad, Kyler. It's about you not knowing when to stop. You're embarrassing yourself."

DJ glared at Kyler, his voice steady and defiant. "You're an asshole."

Kyler's smirk faded, replaced by a sharp glare. "What'd you say, LaRusso?"

DJ didn't flinch. "I said, you're an asshole."

Without warning, Kyler stepped forward and delivered a punch to DJ's stomach. The force sent DJ doubling over, dropping to his knees with a sharp gasp.

One of Kyler's friends muttered nervously, "That's brutal, Ky."

Kyler ignored him, leaning down toward DJ with a mocking sneer. "You crying, LaRusso?"

DJ groaned but managed to lift his head, forcing a grin despite the pain. "Nope. I can do this all day."

Annoyed, Kyler grabbed DJ by the collar and shoved him backward onto a red Pontiac Trans Am parked nearby. The sound of DJ hitting the hood echoed in the parking lot.

The blonde-haired man, who had been quietly finishing his pizza nearby, suddenly stood up, his calm demeanor vanishing. "Hey!" he shouted, pointing at the car. "Watch the car, man!"

One of Kyler's friends turned to the man, sizing him up. "Who's this guy?"

The blonde-haired man took a step forward, his voice steady but laced with irritation. "Just leave the kid alone and walk away."

Kyler raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Another boy laughed, jerking a thumb at the man. "Look at this guy. Eating his dinner at a mini-mart like a bum."

Kyler squinted, recognition dawning on his face. "Wait a second... I know this guy. He's the jerk-off who cleaned my dad's septic tank last year."

The group erupted in laughter, and Brucks added, "Oh! That explains why he smells like crap."

The blonde-haired man's expression hardened, his voice calm but deadly serious. "Trust me, you're pissing off the wrong guy on the wrong day."

Kyler chuckled and stepped closer, shoving the man lightly. "Yeah? What're you gonna do about it, old man?"

Without hesitation, the man sprang into action. He jumped and delivered a swift kick to Kyler's face, sending him stumbling backward. The group collectively gasped in shock as Kyler hit the ground.

The blonde-haired man groaned slightly, rubbing his leg. "Damn, I haven't done that in a while," he muttered under his breath.

Kyler's friends immediately rushed him. The man dodged the first punch with ease, sidestepped another boy, and shoved him into a stack of crates. He grabbed Brucks by the arm, twisted it, and tossed him aside before spinning and kicking the third boy square in the chest, sending him sprawling.

Kyler charged at him again, but the man was ready. He intercepted him with a kick to the stomach, then turned and delivered a hard strike to another boy's legs, sweeping him to the ground. As one of the boys tried to get up, the man landed a precise kick to his face, knocking him out cold.

Brucks came at him again, shoving the man against a pole. The blonde-haired man grunted, then kneed Brucks in the back twice. "Get off me!" he growled, flipping Brucks over and slamming him onto the hood of the Pontiac before letting him slide off onto the ground.

Breathing heavily, the man straightened up, surveying the chaos he'd just created. DJ, still clutching his stomach, stared in awe. "That was awesome!"

The black-haired boy, wide-eyed, stammered, "Holy shit. How did you—"

Before he could finish, DJ noticed Kyler getting back to his feet, rage written all over his face. Without thinking, DJ lunged forward, tackling Kyler to the ground. They hit the pavement with a thud, and DJ pinned Kyler down. "Play fair, punk," DJ spat, before delivering a solid punch to Kyler's face.

Kyler groaned, his defiance fading as the parking lot fell silent. DJ stood up, breathing hard, and glanced at the blonde-haired man, who nodded in approval.

"You did good, kid," the man said, smirking slightly. "But next time, try not to get punched first."

A police car pulled up to the scene, its lights flashing and siren blaring briefly before it stopped. A cop stepped out of the car, his hand already on his belt. "Hey! Get off the kid!" he shouted, quickly rushing toward DJ.

Before DJ could explain, the cop pulled out his pepper spray and unleashed a burst directly at DJ's face. DJ recoiled, staggering back and screaming in pain. "Ah! What the hell?!"

The black-haired boy ran forward, waving his hands frantically. "Wait, stop! It wasn't his fault! He was trying to help me!"

The officer didn't seem to hear him or ignored him entirely. DJ, still blinded and disoriented, stumbled before the cop moved in, forcefully knocking him to the ground. The impact dazed DJ, and his groans of pain faded as he slipped into unconsciousness.

The black-haired boy turned to the officer, panic in his voice. "You don't understand! He wasn't the one causing trouble—they were!" He pointed toward Kyler and his friends, who were already scrambling to their feet, trying to disappear into the night.

The officer hesitated, glancing at the group of boys as the blonde-haired man stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "Hey, officer, you're barking up the wrong tree. This kid was defending that boy over there," he said, pointing at the black-haired boy. "Those punks were the ones causing the trouble."

The officer frowned, his expression shifting slightly as the situation began to sink in. He glanced back at DJ, who lay motionless on the pavement, and then at Kyler's group, now hurriedly retreating toward their jeep. With a sigh, he called into his radio, "Requesting backup at the strip mall parking lot. Possible assault in progress."

The black-haired boy knelt next to DJ, shaking his shoulder gently. "Hey, man, wake up. C'mon."

The blonde-haired man crouched down beside them, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and offering it to the boy. "Here, help him wipe his face. That pepper spray's nasty."

The officer, now looking slightly embarrassed, stepped closer. "Is he going to be okay?"

The blonde-haired man gave him a sharp look. "Maybe if you'd listened before spraying him, we wouldn't have to ask that question."

The tension in the air was palpable as everyone waited, unsure of what would happen next.

The next day

The next morning, DJ walked out of the LAPD building alongside his father. Daniel's expression was a mix of anger and disappointment as they stepped into the sunlight. He finally broke the tense silence. "DJ, what the hell were you thinking? Attacking other kids? I raised you better than that."

DJ stopped abruptly, turning to face his father. His voice was sharp and full of frustration. "I'm not in the mood for this, Dad. That kid was being bullied—humiliated—and all I did was step in to help. And what do I get for it? Pepper-sprayed and thrown to the ground by a cop. And now you're mad at me for standing up for someone?"

Daniel opened his mouth to respond, but DJ didn't give him a chance. His voice rose, his words laced with bitterness. "Or are you just gonna give me another one of your 'Miyagi lessons' like that's supposed to fix everything? Because guess what? It's not helping!"

Daniel's face tightened at the mention of Mr. Miyagi, the words clearly striking a nerve. He took a deep breath, visibly trying to stay calm. "DJ, this isn't about some lesson. It's about you making choices that could get you hurt—or worse. I know you think you did the right thing, but there's a better way to handle situations like that."

DJ shook his head, his frustration spilling over. "Yeah? What's the better way, Dad? Letting them keep bullying him? Walking away while they pour crap on some kid's head? That's not who I am. Maybe it's who you want me to be, but it's not me."

Daniel sighed, rubbing his temples. "It's not about walking away. It's about knowing how to pick your battles. You can't help anyone if you end up in the hospital—or worse, behind bars."

DJ's eyes narrowed, his tone quieter but still defiant. "Well, maybe you should stop worrying about what could happen and start being proud of the fact that I wasn't afraid to do something when it mattered."

The two stood there for a moment in tense silence, the gap between their perspectives feeling wider than ever. Daniel exhaled deeply, finally relenting. "Let's just get home. We'll talk more about this later."

DJ turned and walked toward the car without another word, his shoulders tense but his head held high. Daniel followed, his expression a mix of frustration and concern, wondering how to reach his son before the divide grew any deeper.

As they got into the car, the tension in the air was palpable. Daniel started the engine but didn't pull out of the parking lot right away. Instead, he sat there, gripping the steering wheel tightly before finally breaking the silence.

"This is exactly why I've never taught you karate," Daniel said, his voice firm but tinged with frustration. "Because you can't control your impulses, DJ. You let your emotions take over, and it only makes things worse."

DJ whipped his head toward his father, his voice rising with disbelief. "Are you serious right now? I can't control my impulses? I stepped in to stop someone from being bullied! How is that losing control?"

Daniel shook his head, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead even though they hadn't moved. "It's not just about stepping in. It's how you handle the situation. You think throwing punches solves anything? That's not what karate is about. It's about discipline, about finding balance—"

"Here we go," DJ interrupted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Another lecture about balance and discipline. You don't get it, Dad. Every time I screw up, it's like you're just waiting to pile on. You never try to actually help me. You just tell me what I did wrong and act like that's enough."

Daniel turned to face him, his frustration boiling over. "Do you think this is easy for me? Watching you make these choices, knowing how dangerous it can be? I'm trying to protect you, DJ!"

DJ's voice cracked as he shouted back. "Protect me? From what? From being a decent human being? From standing up for someone? You think Mr. Miyagi would've told me to walk away? No, he would've helped me figure out how to do the right thing and actually feel like I wasn't being attacked every time I messed up!"

The mention of Mr. Miyagi hit Daniel like a punch to the gut. He sat back, his jaw tightening as he processed DJ's words. The car fell silent for a long moment before DJ continued, his voice quieter but filled with emotion.

"I wish he was here," DJ said, his gaze dropping to his lap. "Because at least then I'd feel like someone actually believed in me. Someone who didn't just yell at me every time I tried to do something good but screwed up along the way."

Daniel's expression softened, the anger in his eyes replaced by a mix of guilt and sadness. He let out a slow breath, gripping the steering wheel again but with less force. "DJ... I do believe in you. I just—" He paused, struggling to find the right words. "I don't want to see you get hurt. And I don't always know how to say that without it coming out wrong."

DJ glanced at his father, his frustration still simmering but slightly dulled by the sincerity in Daniel's voice. "Then stop attacking me and start helping me. Maybe I don't always make the best choices, but I'm trying. And I need you to actually try too."

Daniel nodded slowly, his gaze fixed ahead as he finally pulled out of the parking lot. "You're right," he admitted quietly. "I haven't been fair to you. And I can't be Mr. Miyagi, but maybe I can do a better job of being your dad."

DJ didn't respond immediately, staring out the window as the streets passed by. Finally, he said, "I don't need you to be Mr. Miyagi. I just need you to try to understand me."

Daniel sighed, his grip on the wheel relaxing slightly. "I'll try, DJ. I'll try."

The rest of the drive home was quiet, the tension between them still present but slightly eased by the small step forward. For the first time in a long while, it felt like there was a chance for them to bridge the gap.

At the LaRusso house

As the car pulled into the driveway of the LaRusso house, DJ was already unbuckling his seatbelt, his frustration still bubbling over. He slammed the car door shut as he stepped out, storming toward the house. Daniel followed close behind, his voice sharp as he called after him.

"Don't walk away from me, DJ. We're not done talking about this!" Daniel said, his tone firm.

DJ spun around as he reached the door, his voice rising. "Oh, I think we are, Dad. I've heard enough for one day!"

The front door opened before DJ could fling it open himself, and Amanda appeared, her arms crossed and an expression of concern and irritation on her face. "What is going on out here? You two are loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood."

DJ walked past her into the house, throwing his bag onto the couch with a loud thud. "Ask Dad," he muttered. "He's the one who thinks I'm a total screw-up."

Amanda raised an eyebrow, stepping aside as Daniel followed him inside. "Daniel, what's this about?"

Daniel sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. "DJ got into trouble last night. He decided to play hero, got into a fight, and ended up in the back of a police car."

Amanda's eyes widened as she looked at DJ. "Is that true?"

DJ turned around, his expression defiant. "Yeah, it's true. I stopped some kid from getting bullied, and apparently, that makes me the bad guy. Go ahead, Mom, take Dad's side. Everyone always does."

Amanda blinked, clearly trying to process what was happening. "DJ, nobody's saying you're the bad guy, but—"

"But what?" DJ interrupted, throwing his hands in the air. "I do something good for once, and I still get pepper-sprayed, knocked out, and yelled at by Dad. Maybe I should've just walked away like everyone else."

Daniel stepped forward, his frustration boiling over again. "It's not about walking away—it's about making smart decisions! Do you even realize how dangerous that could've been? What if it had gone worse?"

Amanda held up her hands, stepping between them. "Okay, both of you, enough!" she said firmly. "This yelling isn't solving anything."

DJ looked away, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Amanda turned to him, her voice softer now. "DJ, we're not saying you're wrong for stepping in. But you have to understand, your dad and I worry about you. Getting involved in fights can escalate into something worse."

DJ hesitated, his anger ebbing slightly. "I didn't want to fight," he said quietly. "But I wasn't just going to stand there and watch."

Amanda nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder. "And that shows you have a good heart. But you need to think about how you handle situations like that. There's a difference between standing up for someone and putting yourself in harm's way."

She turned to Daniel, her tone pointed. "And you need to stop coming down on him so hard. He's your son, Daniel, not a punching bag for your frustrations. He needs guidance, not lectures."

Daniel looked at Amanda, her words sinking in, and then at DJ, who was still looking away. He sighed, his tone softer. "I just don't want to see you get hurt, DJ. You're my son, and I love you. But you've got to learn to think before you act."

DJ finally looked at his dad, his voice quieter. "I just wish you'd stop treating me like I can't do anything right."

Daniel stepped closer, his expression apologetic. "You're right. I've been hard on you, and I need to do better. I'm sorry."

DJ hesitated, then gave a small nod. Amanda glanced between the two of them, her stern expression softening. "Good. Now, let's all take a breath, sit down, and figure out how to handle this better next time. Deal?"

DJ shrugged, muttering, "Deal, I guess."

Daniel nodded. "Deal."

The tension in the room began to ease, and Amanda guided them both toward the couch. For the first time that day, it felt like progress was being made, even if it was just a small step toward understanding each other.

DJ took a deep breath, standing up from the couch as he looked at his parents. His frustration was still bubbling just below the surface, but his voice was calm, almost too calm. "I'm going to Mr. Miyagi's grave. I need to figure some stuff out."

Daniel looked up, surprised. "DJ, wait. What are you talking about?"

DJ shook his head, already heading toward the door. "You wouldn't understand, Dad. I need to be somewhere I can think—somewhere that actually means something."

Amanda stood, concern etched on her face. "DJ, can we just talk about this first?"

But DJ didn't stop. "There's nothing to talk about. I'll be back later." He pulled open the door with more force than necessary, the sound of it slamming shut echoing through the house.

Daniel stood, taking a step toward the door, but Amanda placed a hand on his arm. "Let him go, Daniel. He needs some space."

Daniel hesitated, looking conflicted. "I just—what if he gets himself into more trouble?"

Amanda gave him a reassuring look. "He's not running into a fight. He's going to Miyagi's grave. If anything, that's the one place he might actually find some peace."

Meanwhile, outside, DJ climbed into his car, his movements quick and agitated. He started the engine and backed out of the driveway, tires crunching on the pavement as he sped off into the night. The cool air rushing through the open window didn't calm him; if anything, it fueled the storm brewing inside him.

As he drove, DJ's mind raced. His dad's words, Amanda's attempts to mediate, the fight with Kyler—it all swirled together, a chaotic mess of emotions he couldn't untangle. But one thing felt clear: Mr. Miyagi's wisdom, his calm and understanding, was what he needed right now.

Later

At the cemetery

The drive to the cemetery felt like it took forever, but finally, DJ pulled into the small, quiet lot. He turned off the engine, the silence settling over him like a heavy blanket. Grabbing his jacket, he stepped out of the car, the crunch of gravel beneath his shoes the only sound in the stillness of the night.

As he approached Mr. Miyagi's grave, the moonlight illuminated the simple yet elegant headstone. DJ stood there for a moment, staring at the engraved words that marked the resting place of a man who had impacted his family so deeply.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know what I'm doing, Mr. Miyagi," he said softly, his voice shaky. "I feel like I'm trying to do the right thing, but it just keeps blowing up in my face. Dad doesn't get it. He doesn't get me. He just wants me to be this perfect version of him, and I can't. I'm not him."

DJ crouched down, his fingers brushing the edge of the headstone. "You helped him, though. You believed in him when no one else did. I don't know if I can live up to that, but I wish I knew what you'd say right now. I wish you were here."

The night was quiet, save for the gentle rustle of the wind through the trees. DJ closed his eyes, letting the stillness wrap around him, hoping for a sign, some kind of clarity. And while no answers came immediately, the simple act of being there—at the grave of someone who embodied wisdom and understanding—felt like a step in the right direction.

DJ sat down in front of Mr. Miyagi's grave, the cold grass damp beneath him. The weight of everything he'd been holding in—the frustration, the anger, the feeling of being misunderstood—finally broke through. He ran his hand over the smooth stone as tears began to blur his vision.

"Why did you have to go, Mr. Miyagi?" he whispered, his voice cracking. "Why couldn't you stick around for just a little longer? You always knew what to say, how to make things... make sense. I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

His hands clenched into fists on his knees as the tears came faster. "It's so hard without you here. Dad's always on my case, acting like I'm supposed to have everything figured out. But I don't. I feel like I'm just screwing everything up, and no matter what I do, it's never enough."

DJ wiped at his face, though the tears kept falling. "You believed in him. You made him better. And I—" His voice broke, and he lowered his head. "I just wish someone believed in me the way you believed in Dad. I wish you could've been here to teach me, to help me the way you helped him."

The cool breeze carried the rustle of leaves, and for a moment, the world felt still. DJ sniffled, his shoulders shaking as he leaned closer to the headstone. "I just... I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore. Everything feels so messed up, and I don't know how to fix it."

He closed his eyes, the ache in his chest overwhelming. "I miss you," he whispered. "Even though I never got to know you, I miss you. You were the one person who seemed to understand what Dad needed. And now, I feel like I'm on my own."

DJ's tears fell silently now, his head bowed as the emotions poured out. The graveyard around him was quiet, the faint sound of crickets the only thing breaking the stillness. For the first time in a long while, DJ let himself feel everything—his sadness, his frustration, his longing for guidance—and it all poured out in front of the one person he wished could be there most.

As DJ sat there, his tears gradually subsiding, the stillness around him seemed to draw him inward. His mind drifted, and slowly, a memory surfaced—one from when he was much younger. He remembered a quiet afternoon in the LaRusso backyard, Mr. Miyagi sitting on a bench with him, speaking in his calm, thoughtful way.

In the memory

DJ was about eight years old, sitting cross-legged on the grass, staring at the koi pond. His little hands were clasped together, his brow furrowed in frustration after a bad day at school. Mr. Miyagi sat nearby, trimming a bonsai tree with his usual precision.

"What's wrong, little DJ?" Mr. Miyagi asked, his voice gentle but perceptive.

DJ sighed heavily. "I got in trouble today. I tried to help someone, but it just made things worse. Now everyone's mad at me."

Mr. Miyagi paused his work, setting down the shears. He looked at DJ, his warm eyes filled with understanding. "You do good thing, but outcome not good?"

DJ nodded, looking down at the grass. "Yeah. Now it feels like it wasn't worth it."

Mr. Miyagi leaned forward slightly, his tone steady but firm. "DJ-san, sometimes in life, you do good, but others not see it. Still, doing good always worth it. Problem is not action. Problem is balance."

DJ tilted his head, confused. "Balance?"

Mr. Miyagi smiled softly and gestured toward the koi pond. "Look at fish. Always swimming, always moving, but never crash into rocks. Why? Because they find balance. Balance not just in body, but in mind. In heart. Without balance, life fall apart."

DJ frowned, still not entirely understanding. "But what does that have to do with me?"

Mr. Miyagi pointed at him gently. "You, DJ-san, have good heart. You want to help. That is strength. But strength without balance can cause trouble. Must learn to think, feel, and act with balance. Then you will find peace."

The younger DJ looked at him, wide-eyed, as if the words were slowly starting to make sense. Mr. Miyagi patted his shoulder with a reassuring smile. "Balance takes practice. Like karate. Like life. But you will learn."

End of Flashback

The memory faded, and DJ found himself back in the graveyard, staring at the headstone. He wiped his face, sniffling as Mr. Miyagi's words echoed in his mind. "Balance... not just in body, but in mind. In heart."

For the first time that day, DJ felt a small sense of clarity. Mr. Miyagi wasn't telling him not to stand up for others—he was reminding him to find a better way, to approach life with thought and steadiness. To act, but with balance.

DJ sat up straighter, his breathing steadying as the weight on his chest began to lift. He looked at the headstone and whispered, "Thanks, Mr. Miyagi. I think... I think I get it now."

He stood slowly, brushing the grass off his jeans. Though his heart still ached, there was a new determination in his eyes. DJ turned back toward his car, ready to head home and start trying to live by the lesson he'd just remembered. Balance might not come easy, but he was willing to work for it. For himself—and for the man who believed in his family.

As DJ drove home, the quiet hum of the engine and the rhythmic passing of streetlights seemed to lull his mind into another memory. This one brought a faint smile to his face as he recalled a simpler time—one of the rare moments he'd shared with Mr. Miyagi when the wise old man had told him a story about his father.

Flashback

DJ was sitting on a small stool in the LaRusso backyard again, watching as Mr. Miyagi tended to the koi pond. He was about nine years old, holding a small net, dipping it playfully into the water, trying to "catch" the fish without any real intent.

Mr. Miyagi chuckled, noticing DJ's futile attempts. "DJ-san, you know why you no catch fish like that?"

DJ looked up, pouting slightly. "Because I'm not fast enough?"

Mr. Miyagi shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Not about speed. It is about patience. Fish swim in own time, not your time."

DJ frowned, setting the net down. "Patience? That sounds boring."

Mr. Miyagi laughed softly and sat down beside him. "Ah, patience boring when young. But patience teach many things." He paused, his expression softening as he continued. "Your father, Daniel-san, learn this lesson too. One summer, long time ago."

DJ's curiosity was piqued, and he turned to face him. "What happened?"

Mr. Miyagi gestured toward the koi pond. "Your father try to catch fish here once. He think it will be easy. First, he rush. Splash everywhere. Fish all run away. Then, he try to trap them. Still, no fish."

DJ giggled, imagining a younger version of his dad flailing around the pond. "Did he ever catch one?"

Mr. Miyagi nodded, his tone thoughtful. "Yes. After many tries, Daniel-san sit quietly. Watch fish. Learn how they move, where they go. When he act, it is with purpose, not force."

DJ's eyes widened. "So he caught one because he waited?"

Mr. Miyagi smiled, placing a hand on DJ's shoulder. "Not just wait. He find patience. Learn when to move and when to be still. Same lesson for life, DJ-san. Sometimes, must wait. Observe. Then act with purpose. Not rush. Not force."

End of Flashback

The memory faded as DJ approached his driveway, the story lingering in his mind. His father had learned patience, balance, and purpose from Mr. Miyagi. And now, DJ realized, those lessons weren't just about catching fish—they were about handling life.

As he parked the car and turned off the engine, DJ sat for a moment, looking toward the house. His dad's lessons, Mr. Miyagi's wisdom—it all made sense in a way it hadn't before. He wasn't perfect, and neither was his dad, but maybe that wasn't the point. Maybe the point was learning, growing, and finding that balance.

Taking a deep breath, DJ stepped out of the car and headed toward the house, ready to face whatever came next.

DJ opened the front door quietly, the soft click of the latch breaking the stillness of the house. The lights in the living room were on, and he could see his dad, Daniel, sitting on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Amanda sat beside him, her hand resting on his arm. They both looked up as DJ walked in, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability.

Daniel stood, his concern overriding any lingering frustration. "DJ, are you okay? Where did you go?"

DJ hesitated for a moment, then stepped further into the room, letting the door close behind him. "I went to Mr. Miyagi's grave," he said, his voice calm but steady. "I needed to think."

Daniel's face softened, and Amanda exchanged a glance with him before speaking gently. "Did it help?"

DJ nodded slowly, taking a seat across from them in the armchair. He looked at his dad, the weight of the evening's events still evident in his expression. "It did. I remembered something he told me... about balance. About patience."

Daniel sat back down, his voice softer now. "Mr. Miyagi had a way of making things clear, didn't he?"

DJ gave a small, bittersweet smile. "Yeah. He told me about the time you tried to catch fish in the pond. How you had to be patient, watch, and act with purpose. And... I realized I haven't been doing that. I've been rushing into things, letting my emotions take over, and I think... I think that's what you've been trying to tell me."

Daniel's expression shifted, a mix of pride and understanding. "That's exactly it, DJ. It's not about not standing up for people—it's about how you do it. I've been where you are. I know what it feels like to want to do the right thing but not know the best way to do it."

DJ leaned forward, his hands clasped together. "I just... I feel like every time I try to do something, it backfires. And instead of helping, I make things worse."

Daniel nodded, his voice steady. "I've been there too. I made mistakes—plenty of them. But Mr. Miyagi taught me that those mistakes are part of learning. The important thing is to not let them define you."

Amanda, who had been quietly listening, chimed in. "And to know that we're here to help you, DJ. We're not always going to get it right, but we're on your side."

DJ looked between his parents, a hint of emotion creeping into his voice. "I know you guys care. I just... I felt like I couldn't do anything right in your eyes."

Daniel reached out, placing a hand on DJ's shoulder. "That's on me. I've been too hard on you, and I'm sorry. I just want you to be safe, but I need to trust that you're learning and growing, just like I did."

DJ nodded, the tension in his chest easing. "I'll try to think more before I act. To find balance."

Daniel smiled, a warmth in his eyes. "That's all I can ask for."

Amanda leaned forward, her tone lighter now. "And for the record, you standing up for that kid? That was the right thing to do. You've got a good heart, DJ."

DJ smiled faintly, the weight of the evening finally lifting. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt understood—not just by Mr. Miyagi's memory, but by his parents too. It wasn't perfect, but it was a step in the right direction.

As the family settled back into the living room, the night felt calmer, filled with the quiet understanding that they were all learning, growing, and finding balance—together.

The next day

The next day, DJ found himself working at LaRusso Auto, lending a hand around the dealership as part of his routine.

DJ walked through the showroom, a microfiber cloth in hand as he polished the hood of a shiny black SUV. The soft hum of customers browsing and salespeople chatting filled the air. It wasn't the most exciting way to spend the day, but it gave him time to think—and after last night, he felt like he needed it.

"DJ," a familiar voice called out. He turned to see Louie approaching, a clipboard in hand and a mischievous grin plastered across his face. "You missed a spot, kid. What would the customers think?"

DJ rolled his eyes but couldn't help smirking. "Relax, Louie. This car's probably cleaner than your desk."

Louie raised his hands in mock surrender. "All right, all right. Just busting your chops. Your dad's in the back if you're looking for him—probably drowning in paperwork like usual."

DJ nodded and set the cloth down, deciding to check in with his dad. As he made his way toward the back office, he passed rows of sleek cars, each one a testament to the LaRusso name. It was strange—he'd grown up around this place, but for the first time, it felt a little more like a legacy he might actually want to be a part of someday.

When he reached the office, the door was slightly ajar, and he could hear Daniel's voice. DJ peeked in to see his dad on the phone, gesturing animatedly as he spoke. He gave DJ a quick wave, signaling him to wait a moment.

DJ leaned against the doorframe, his gaze wandering over the framed photos on the walls—pictures of his dad with Mr. Miyagi, shots from the early days of the dealership, and even a few family pictures, including one of DJ himself as a kid standing proudly next to a car he definitely wasn't old enough to drive.

Finally, Daniel hung up the phone and looked at DJ with a smile. "Hey, how's it going out there? Louie giving you a hard time?"

"Always," DJ replied with a grin. "But I'm managing."

Daniel leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "You've been doing good, DJ. I mean it. I know yesterday was rough, but I'm proud of you for how you've handled it."

DJ hesitated, then stepped fully into the room. "Thanks, Dad. I've been thinking about what you and Mr. Miyagi taught me... about balance. I guess working here today kind of helps with that."

Daniel nodded, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "It's a good place to start. Balance isn't just about what happens in the moment—it's about building something, finding steady ground. You've got that in you, DJ. You just have to trust yourself."

DJ smiled faintly. "I'm working on it."

Daniel stood and clapped a hand on DJ's shoulder. "That's all I can ask. Now, come on. Let's go grab lunch—I think we've earned it."

As they walked out of the office together, the tension of the previous night felt like a distant memory. For the first time in a while, DJ felt like he wasn't just his father's shadow—he was starting to carve out his own path, one small step at a time.

Daniel and DJ stepped into the showroom, the polished floors reflecting the bright overhead lights. As they walked toward the entrance, DJ froze mid-step. Standing near the row of cars was the blonde-haired man from the parking lot incident the night before.

Daniel's eyes widened as recognition dawned. "Johnny?" he called out, his voice tinged with surprise.

The man turned, his expression shifting as he heard the name. "Daniel?" he replied, almost in disbelief.

DJ watched in confusion as his dad's face lit up. "Johnny Lawrence! I can't believe it—it really is you!" Daniel strode forward, pulling Johnny into a quick, friendly hug. "Holy... How the hell are you?"

Johnny grinned faintly, patting Daniel on the back. "Hey, man. Long time no see."

Daniel stepped back, chuckling as he looked Johnny over. "Oh my God, look at you! Still rocking those golden locks, huh? This is insane. How have you been?"

Johnny shrugged, his grin widening. "I've been great, man. Really great."

Daniel nodded enthusiastically. "That's awesome. You have no idea how crazy this is to see you here." He turned, gesturing toward DJ, who was still standing there, bewildered. "Oh, this is my son, Daniel Jr.—but we call him DJ."

DJ stepped forward, his eyes darting between his dad and Johnny. "Uh, hi," he said cautiously.

Daniel clapped a hand on DJ's shoulder, his tone warm. "Son, this is Johnny Lawrence. He's an old friend of mine... from back in the day."

Johnny raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Friend, huh? That's an interesting way to put it."

Daniel laughed, waving a hand. "Okay, maybe 'friend' isn't the word we would've used back then. But, hey, things change, right?"

DJ's confusion deepened, and he looked at Johnny, who gave him a knowing nod. "Yeah, kid, things definitely change."

The moment felt surreal, as if decades of history were converging in a single point. DJ wasn't sure what to make of it, but one thing was clear—there was more to this meeting than his dad was letting on.

Daniel clapped his hands together, waving over Anoush and Louie with enthusiasm. "Hey, Anoush, come here! Louie, get over here! I want you to meet somebody."

Johnny shifted uncomfortably, taking a step back. "I gotta go."

DJ noticed the tension in Johnny's body language and his desire to leave, but before Johnny could slip away, Daniel grabbed his arm lightly. "No, no, no. Wait, just hang on a second."

Anoush was the first to arrive, his eyebrows raising with curiosity. Daniel gestured toward Johnny, a grin plastered across his face. "This is Johnny Lawrence. He and I go way back. Right, buddy? This guy was the toughest dude in my high school. When I first moved here from Jersey, we had... let's just say a bit of history. This guy really had it in for me."

Johnny gave a faint smirk, his voice low but laced with dry humor. "Well, you did move in on my girl."

Daniel chuckled, waving it off. "Yeah, well, she wasn't really your girl anymore, was she? Anyway, that's all water under the bridge."

Anoush's eyes widened, and he asked with sudden realization, "Wait... is this the karate guy? The one from the tournament?"

Louie chimed in, his tone teasing. "Oh, so this is the guy whose ass you kicked?"

Daniel laughed nervously. "Uh, listen, it was a really close match. But if we're getting technical... I kicked his face." He couldn't help but chuckle at his own joke.

Louie joined in, laughing along with Daniel, but DJ noticed Johnny's jaw tighten. He didn't find it funny.

"I'm just busting your chops, Johnny," Daniel added, trying to lighten the mood.

Johnny's face remained neutral, but his voice carried a hint of annoyance. "It was an illegal kick."

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Illegal? Come on, really? What about that elbow to my knee?"

Johnny shrugged. "Yeah, I got a warning. You got the win."

Anoush, sensing the growing tension but not understanding the history, laughed nervously. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! No fighting in the showroom, guys."

DJ, stepping in before things escalated further, said firmly, "Guys, let's get back to work."

Louie smirked, shooting DJ a look. "Since when do we take orders from the kid?"

Daniel gave Louie a pointed look. "Just do it, Louie."

Anoush gave Johnny a quick nod. "Nice meeting you, man," he said, before heading back to his work.

Louie followed, leaving Daniel, Johnny, and DJ standing there.

Daniel cleared his throat, switching gears. "Enough reminiscing, right? So, what brings you in? Looking for a new ride?"

Before Johnny could respond, a receptionist walked over holding a tablet. "He wants his car towed to a different body shop," she said simply.

Daniel frowned, glancing at Johnny. "Oh no, Johnny. We've got the best prices in town. That crook at Cole's on Van Nuys? He'll try to screw you over. Sheila, let me see the estimate."

Taking the tablet, Daniel scanned it quickly. His brow furrowed. "A Pontiac? Firebird?"

Johnny nodded curtly.

Daniel shook his head as he reviewed the report. "Wow. Someone really did a number on this thing. Maybe it's time for an upgrade. Why don't we walk the lot? I'll give you a deal on a certified pre-owned—"

"I just want my car," Johnny interrupted, his tone firm.

Daniel held up his hands in mock surrender. "All right, all right. You got it. Let me see how low I can get this repair. Friends and family discount... my personal code."

After a moment, Daniel glanced at the final price and let out a low whistle. He looked back at Johnny. "You know what? It's on the house."

Johnny stiffened, shaking his head. "No way, man. I don't need your charity."

Daniel raised his hands again. "No, no, you'd be doing me a favor. Our guys aren't used to working on classic cars like this. They could use the practice. You get the repairs, I get the experience for my team. Win-win."

Johnny's voice grew sharper. "I said I'll handle it."

Daniel relented, though his tone was more serious now. "Okay, fine. But I'm just saying—it's gonna cost more than the car's worth." He turned the tablet around to show Johnny the price.

Johnny stared at the number, his expression darkening.

DJ, who had been quietly watching the exchange, finally stepped forward. "I'll pay for it," he said firmly.

Both Daniel and Johnny turned to him in surprise.

"What?" Daniel asked, caught off guard.

"Yeah," DJ said, standing his ground. "He helped me last night. This is the least I can do."

Johnny shook his head immediately. "Kid, I don't need a handout—"

"It's not a handout," DJ interrupted, his voice steady. "It's paying it forward. You stood up for me when I needed it, so let me do this."

Johnny paused, his jaw tightening as he considered the offer. For a moment, no one spoke, the tension in the air thick. Finally, Johnny gave a small nod, though his pride still seemed to sting. "Fine. But just this once."

DJ smiled faintly. "Deal."

Daniel watched the exchange, his expression a mix of surprise and pride. "Looks like you're learning something about balance after all," he said softly, giving DJ a nod.

For the first time, Johnny cracked a small smile. "Kid's got guts," he said, before turning back to Daniel. "Guess we've all got some surprises left in us, huh?"

As Daniel excused himself to take a call, he gave DJ and Johnny a quick nod. "I'll be back in a bit. Don't let Louie sell you anything you don't need," he joked before walking off toward his office.

Johnny stood there for a moment, watching Daniel go, before turning his attention back to DJ. He crossed his arms, a faint smirk playing on his face. "Should've figured you were LaRusso's kid," he said, his tone casual but with a trace of admiration. "The way you stood up to those jerks last night. He used to do the same thing to me."

DJ raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback. "He did?"

Johnny nodded, leaning casually against a nearby car. "Yeah. Back in high school, your dad had this thing about standing up for what he thought was right. Didn't matter who he was up against or what the odds were. If he thought someone was being treated unfairly, he got involved."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "It drove me nuts back then. I mean, I was the guy he was usually standing up to, so you can imagine how that felt. But... looking back, I can respect it. He had guts. And from what I saw last night, so do you."

DJ blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment. "Uh, thanks. I guess."

Johnny's smirk widened slightly. "Don't let it go to your head, kid. You still got a lot to learn. But you've got that fire, that instinct to do what's right, even when it's not easy. That's something a lot of people don't have."

DJ looked down for a moment, then back up at Johnny. "You really think I'm like him?"

Johnny shrugged, his expression softening. "I see a lot of him in you. The way you stood up to those punks, the way you didn't back down—it's all LaRusso. But hey, you're your own person too. Don't forget that."

DJ nodded slowly, his lips curving into a small smile. "I'll try to remember that."

Johnny pushed off the car and adjusted his jacket. "Good. Now, let's see if your old man's actually gonna get my car fixed without adding a bunch of stuff I don't need. He's a salesman, after all."

DJ chuckled, feeling the tension ease. "Yeah, good luck with that."

As Johnny gave him a nod and headed toward the service desk, DJ stayed back for a moment, thinking about what Johnny had said. The idea that he shared some of his dad's best qualities—and that even someone like Johnny Lawrence could see it—left him with a newfound sense of pride.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as far from finding his balance as he thought.

Johnny walked toward the service desk but paused, glancing back at DJ with a raised eyebrow. "Hey, kid," he called out. "You said you were gonna pay for my car. How exactly are you planning to swing that? You mowing lawns or something?"

DJ smirked, leaning casually against one of the showroom cars. "I've been saving up since I was 10."

Johnny turned fully, crossing his arms. "Yeah? Saving up for what? A new bike?"

DJ chuckled, shaking his head. "Nope. Just saving in general. I figured someday I'd need it for something important. Turns out helping you fix your car is that 'something.' I've got at least fifty grand in the bank."

Johnny's eyes widened, his usual smirk faltering. "Fifty grand? Are you serious?"

"Dead serious," DJ replied confidently. "My mom helped me open a savings account when I was little. Anytime I got birthday money, holiday cash, or even from part-time stuff like babysitting or odd jobs, I stashed it away. I never spent much, so it just kept growing."

Johnny let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "Damn, kid. You've got more in the bank than I do."

DJ shrugged, his tone casual. "I don't really need much. I've got a roof over my head, food on the table, and a family that keeps me grounded. The money's just there for stuff that really matters."

Johnny studied him for a moment, his expression shifting to something more thoughtful. "You're a good kid, DJ. Most people your age would've blown that cash the second they got their hands on it."

DJ gave a faint smile. "Maybe, but that's not me. If I can help someone out—someone who actually deserves it—then it's worth it."

Johnny nodded, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Your old man's got his flaws, but he raised you right."

DJ looked down for a moment, then back at Johnny. "Thanks. That means a lot coming from you."

Johnny shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Don't let it go to your head, LaRusso Junior. But I mean it. You've got your priorities straight. That's more than I can say for most people."

As Johnny turned back toward the service desk, he paused again and glanced over his shoulder. "But just so you know, I'm still paying you back. I don't take handouts."

DJ grinned. "Deal. You can pay me back... with interest."

Johnny chuckled, shaking his head. "Smartass." He continued toward the desk, muttering to himself, "Fifty grand. Kid's got his act together better than I ever did."

As Johnny walked back toward the service desk, DJ called out, stopping him in his tracks. "Hey, Johnny?"

Johnny turned around, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, kid? What now?"

DJ hesitated for a moment before blurting out, "Do you think you could teach me karate?"

Johnny's expression froze for a second, caught completely off guard. "What is it with kids today?" he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "First Miguel—the black-haired kid from the parking lot—asks me the same thing, and now you? Look, kid, I'm not looking for students, and I'm definitely not looking to be a sensei. Why don't you ask your dad to teach you?"

DJ sighed, his frustration evident. "Because my dad doesn't think I can control my impulses. That's why he's never taught me karate. And Mr. Miyagi... he didn't either."

Johnny's demeanor shifted slightly at the mention of Mr. Miyagi, his usual sarcasm replaced by a flicker of understanding. "Wait, your dad never taught you? Mr. Miyagi never taught you? Seriously?"

DJ nodded, his tone quieter now. "Yeah. My dad's always worried I'd use it the wrong way. He doesn't trust me to handle it the way he does, and I get it—I've messed up a lot. And Mr. Miyagi... well, I guess he thought I wasn't ready."

Johnny crossed his arms, looking at DJ thoughtfully. "So, you want me to teach you because... what? You think I don't care about whether you can control yourself?"

DJ shook his head. "No, that's not it. I just... I need someone who gets it. Someone who knows what it's like to make mistakes and learn from them. My dad's great, but he's... I don't know. He's too good at this stuff. You're different. You've been through it, right? Maybe you could teach me to find that balance my dad and Mr. Miyagi keep talking about."

Johnny sighed, running a hand through his blonde hair. "Kid, I'm not a balance kind of guy. I'm more of a 'strike first, strike hard' type, and trust me, that's not what your dad or Mr. Miyagi would want for you."

DJ held his ground, his tone steady. "I'm not asking you to turn me into a fighter, Johnny. I'm asking you to help me find my own way. Just like you've done for yourself."

Johnny stared at DJ for a long moment, his defenses wavering. Finally, he muttered, "Damn, you're persistent. Just like your old man."

DJ smiled faintly. "So, is that a yes?"

Johnny sighed again, still uncertain. "I'll think about it, all right? But don't get your hopes up. I'm not exactly sensei material."

DJ grinned. "You might be better at it than you think."

Johnny shook his head, smirking slightly as he turned away. "We'll see, kid. We'll see."

DJ noticed his sister Samantha chatting with their dad across the showroom. He turned to Johnny and immediately caught the shift in his expression. Johnny's face tightened, and his jaw clenched slightly as he muttered under his breath, "You gotta be kidding me."

DJ raised an eyebrow. "What? What's wrong?"

Johnny motioned toward Samantha with his chin. "That brown-haired girl talking with your dad—she your sister?"

DJ nodded cautiously. "Yeah. Why?"

Johnny let out a bitter chuckle. "Because she was in the other car that smashed into mine."

DJ's eyes widened in disbelief. "Please tell me you're joking."

Johnny shook his head. "Nope. Not joking, kid. That's just my kind of luck."

Before DJ could respond, Johnny turned to leave. "I gotta go," he said curtly, walking toward the exit.

"Hey, Johnny, wait up!" Daniel's voice rang out across the room. "Johnny! Hold on a second!"

Johnny stopped reluctantly, turning back to see Daniel walking toward him, carrying a small bonsai tree in his hands.

Daniel held the tree out with a smile. "Every customer gets one. Come on, take it."

Johnny grabbed the tree hesitantly, his expression unreadable. Daniel continued, his tone lighter now. "And listen, Johnny... I don't blame you for what happened back in the day, all right? I know that wasn't you—that was Cobra Kai. We're all better off without it, am I right? Anyway, take care of yourself, and I'll give you a call when the car's ready. Seriously, though, it's good to see you, man. You look... well, you look good."

Johnny gave a faint nod, his usual sarcasm replaced by a quiet acknowledgment. "Thanks," he muttered.

He turned and handed the bonsai tree to DJ. "Since technically you're paying, this is yours."

DJ looked at the tree, slightly confused. "Uh, thanks?"

As Johnny stepped back toward the exit, he paused and glanced at DJ. "I'll see you when I find a place to rent for karate lessons."

DJ's face lit up in surprise and excitement. "Wait—does that mean you're gonna—?"

Johnny smirked, cutting him off. "Yeah. I'm gonna teach you karate."

DJ's grin widened, practically bouncing on his feet. "Awesome!"

Johnny gave him a small nod, then turned and walked out of the dealership, his usual confident swagger returning. DJ stood there for a moment, holding the bonsai tree and watching Johnny leave, a sense of excitement and anticipation bubbling inside him. The day hadn't turned out how he'd expected, but it had just taken a turn for the better.

Johnny narrates: "I'm gonna teach you two the style of karate that was drilled into me—a no-nonsense method of fighting that your soft, coddled generation desperately needs. This isn't just about conquering your fears. I'm gonna teach you how to unleash the fire inside you, to awaken the snake that's been lying dormant. And once you do, you won't be the one who's afraid anymore—you'll be the one they fear. You'll build strength. You'll master discipline. And when the moment comes, you'll know how to strike back."

To be continued...