chapter forty-seven:
❛ girls' night out ❜

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FLASHBACK TO JULY 2019

The air in India was thick with the scent of incense, the warmth of the sun still lingering in the late afternoon. Arizona stood at the edge of a bustling market in a small village, her eyes scanning the crowded stalls. Diego was beside her, his face lit with excitement as he tugged her towards a narrow alleyway. The street was lined with small shops and colorful fabrics, but what caught Arizona's attention was an old wooden sign that hung just slightly askew. "Fortune Teller" was written in faded gold lettering, the words almost obscured by years of wear.

"You know I don't believe in this stuff," Arizona said, her voice skeptical. She wasn't much of a believer in anything mystical. She was too grounded in the realities of life, shaped by the violence and anger she'd been carrying for so long.

Diego grinned, his mischievous eyes sparkling. "Come on, just give it a shot. It'll be fun. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?" His voice had the kind of enthusiasm that was hard to ignore.

Reluctantly, Arizona followed him through the archway and into the small, dimly lit room. The smell of burning sage filled her nostrils, and her eyes adjusted to the faint glow of candles scattered around the space. The room was cluttered with worn rugs, an assortment of trinkets, and shelves lined with curious objects—stones, feathers, and beads.

Sitting at the center of the room was an older woman, her face weathered with age and wisdom, her hair long and streaked with silver. Her eyes gleamed in the candlelight, and when she saw Arizona and Diego, she smiled, though it wasn't a comforting smile. It was knowing, almost as if she had been waiting for them.

"Sit," the woman said, her voice soft but commanding.

Diego immediately took a seat across from her, clearly intrigued. Arizona, however, hesitated, her arms crossed defensively. She didn't want to entertain any notions of fate or destiny. She just wanted to be left alone, to move forward from her past. But there was something in the air, a strange energy that coaxed her to sit down beside her brother.

The fortune teller placed her hands on the table and closed her eyes, taking a deep, deliberate breath. For a long moment, she didn't speak, and Arizona felt the weight of silence pressing in. Then, the woman's eyes fluttered open and locked onto Arizona's with startling intensity.

"Your anger runs deep," the fortune teller said, her voice calm yet full of undeniable conviction. "You carry it in your heart, in your every movement. It's what guides you, but it is also what holds you back."

Arizona's breath caught in her throat. Her first instinct was to deny it. She wasn't angry anymore, not really. She was just fighting for survival, for control—she wasn't the same person who had entered that dojo in the first place. But she knew, deep down, that the anger still lingered, like a shadow she couldn't shake.

"You've been hurt," the fortune teller continued, her voice unwavering. "But that pain has taken root, and it festers within you. It's like poison, eating away at your soul."

Arizona's jaw tightened. She couldn't let anyone see the cracks. She had spent so long building walls around herself that it felt too vulnerable to admit the truth. But the fortune teller wasn't done.

"If you continue on this path of violence and anger, you will destroy yourself," she said, her eyes sharp. "This path you've chosen, with your karate and your need to fight... it will take everything from you. If you don't let go of the past, something bad will happen. I can see it in your future—your heart will break, and you will lose everything."

Arizona felt a chill run down her spine. The woman's words stung, but they weren't new. She had always known that the anger inside her had consequences. The violence, the need to prove herself—it had taken its toll. It had cost her friendships, trust, even her own peace of mind. But she couldn't imagine letting go of the only thing that had kept her going.

"You must forgive," the fortune teller said, her voice softer now, almost like a whisper. "You must forgive yourself, and you must let go. Only then will you find peace. Only then will you be free."

Arizona shook her head, the walls inside her heart rising again. "I don't know how to do that," she muttered, her voice barely audible. "How can I just forget everything that's happened to me? How do I let go of all the pain?"

The woman smiled gently. "Forgiveness is not forgetting, child. It's releasing the hold that the past has on you. It's allowing yourself to move forward, without being chained by the anger and regret."

Diego, who had been silently listening, glanced over at Arizona. "Maybe... maybe she's right. I've seen you, Arizona. You're not the same as you were when you first came here. You're not as angry, but you're still carrying it with you. The way you fight, the way you push everyone away... it's not you anymore."

Arizona looked at her brother, his words hitting her harder than she expected. She didn't want to admit it, but he was right. The anger had become a part of her, like a mask she couldn't take off, even when she didn't want to wear it anymore.

She looked back at the fortune teller, whose gaze softened, almost sympathetically. "You don't have to do it all at once, dear. Just take the first step. Let go, and the rest will follow. The choice is yours."

Arizona sat there in silence for a long while, the weight of the woman's words settling on her shoulders. She felt torn, like she was standing at a crossroads with no clear path ahead. Her whole life had been shaped by the need to fight, to prove herself. But could she really let it all go? Could she forgive the parts of herself that were broken and angry?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she stood up, her legs feeling heavy. Diego looked at her, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

Arizona nodded, though she didn't feel okay. Not yet. But maybe, just maybe, she was starting to understand what she needed to do. "I don't know if I'm ready," she said softly, her voice laced with uncertainty. "But I'll try."

As they left the small shop, Arizona's mind raced with the fortune teller's words. She didn't know what the future held, but for the first time in a long time, she felt the weight of her anger begin to loosen—just a little. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

PRESENT—SEPTEMBER 2019

The dojo was quiet before the lessons started. The warm morning light filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow on the wooden floors. Arizona and Tory stood across from each other, both with their guard up, but neither of them moving. Robby and Miguel stood off to the side, watching intently, their eyes flicking between the two girls.

"Just do what you've been practicing," Robby said, his voice calm but with an underlying tension. He glanced at Miguel, who gave him a tight smile.

Miguel nodded, his eyes never leaving Arizona. "Yeah, no pressure, just sparring."

But the air between Arizona and Tory was thick, the unspoken history of their rivalry hanging in the space between them like a thick fog. Arizona's grip on her stance tightened, her fists subconsciously clenching. She wasn't sure why, but something about being back here with Tory felt off. It wasn't just the rivalry anymore. It was the strange attempt to find some new version of their relationship—a version that didn't involve bitterness, revenge, or anger.

Tory shifted on her feet, her eyes flickering nervously to Robby, then back to Arizona. "So... sparring, huh?" she said, her voice strained. "Are we... gonna do this?"

Arizona nodded slowly, her movements stiff. "Yeah. We should. We both know the moves. No need to—"

She cut herself off. The words felt hollow. She had tried so hard to put their past behind them, to let go of the anger that had fueled their rivalry. But now, standing here with Tory—someone she had fought so fiercely against—it felt impossible to simply flip a switch. There was too much history, too much bitterness.

Tory took a step forward, then paused. "We don't have to, you know," she said quietly, her voice almost hesitant. "I mean, if you're not ready for this, we can just—"

"No," Arizona said, her tone sharper than she intended. She exhaled and softened, meeting Tory's gaze. "We need to do this. It's just... weird, okay?"

"I get it," Tory responded, taking a small step toward her, but not close enough to strike. "We don't have to go all out, right? Just... practice."

Arizona nodded again, and they circled each other, the tension still palpable. She could feel Robby and Miguel watching them, but she didn't want to look at them—not now. Not when every step felt like it might push her over the edge into something she wasn't ready for.

Tory feigned a punch, and Arizona blocked instinctively, the familiar movement almost automatic. But instead of the usual intensity, there was hesitation, a lag in their motions, as if neither of them wanted to strike too hard, afraid that something would snap inside them if they did.

"Nice," Arizona muttered, stepping back slightly, trying to make it look like they were sparring with the usual focus. "But you're holding back."

Tory's lips twisted into something that wasn't quite a smile. "You too."

The sparring slowed to a crawl. Every block felt like it was done with half the effort. Every punch was pulled back before it could connect. The raw, sharp aggression that usually fueled their fights was absent, replaced with something more fragile—a tentative truce that neither of them knew how to navigate. Arizona couldn't stop thinking about the past—the fights, the words, the hurt. Tory probably felt the same way, but neither of them was brave enough to address it, not now.

"Just... hit me already," Arizona muttered, her voice low, trying to break the tension. "We're not getting anywhere like this."

Tory flinched slightly, then squared her shoulders. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"I'm not going to break," Arizona snapped, but her voice softened at the end, the edge of anger quickly fading into something else—something vulnerable. She stood a little taller, her breath coming a little faster. "We have to fight, or else this—this thing between us won't go away."

Tory's expression flickered, and she lowered her guard just a fraction. "Yeah," she agreed quietly. "Guess we do."

But even as the words left her mouth, neither of them moved, both hesitant to throw the first real punch. Robby and Miguel exchanged a glance, sensing the unspoken tension. Robby leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, and gave Miguel a look.

"You okay?" Miguel asked, watching Arizona carefully.

"Yeah," Robby replied, though his tone was more guarded than usual. "She'll be fine. Just... needs to work through this, you know?"

Miguel nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched Arizona, concern flickering across his face. "I get it. It's not easy, all the stuff they've been through. But if anyone can get past it, it's them."

Meanwhile, Arizona felt the space between her and Tory stretch like an elastic band, ready to snap if either of them made a wrong move. She took a slow, deliberate step forward, and this time, Tory didn't back away. Their gazes met, both of them searching the other's face, trying to find something they could trust, something they could use to make this work.

"Just... try not to break me, okay?" Arizona said quietly, her voice almost teasing but with a sharp edge beneath it.

Tory gave her a small nod. "No promises," she muttered, then lunged forward with a swift strike.

The sparring resumed, but this time it felt different. It was no longer about anger, or revenge, or proving who was stronger. It was about testing the boundaries of this fragile truce between them, about pushing each other not to fight, but to find a way forward.

Arizona blocked Tory's punch with a fluid motion, then countered with a light tap to her shoulder. Tory stumbled back slightly but quickly regained her stance, eyeing Arizona with cautious respect.

Neither of them knew how to make it easy, how to let go of the past and just be friends. But for the first time in what felt like forever, they were trying—not to win, not to defeat the other, but to find something new between them.

Robby and Miguel watched, tension thick in the air, but neither of them said anything. They knew this wasn't their fight to intervene in, and all they could do was hope Arizona and Tory could find a way to make peace, even if it was awkward, even if it took time.

And for Arizona, as she faced Tory in the ring, it wasn't just a fight anymore. It was a chance to let go of the anger, to stop holding onto the past, and to finally, somehow, start moving forward.

The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow over Devon's pristine, suburban neighborhood, as Arizona, Tory, and Sam walked up the neatly paved driveway toward Devon's house. The place was larger than any of them had expected, with a perfectly manicured lawn, a two-story structure with large windows, and ivy creeping tastefully up the brick exterior. The house had an air of quiet elegance, nestled in the middle of the cul-de-sac. It looked like something out of a picture-perfect catalog. Tory whistled softly, taking it all in.

"Does Devon have a home dojo?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of awe as she glanced around at the fancy surroundings.

Arizona's eyes lit up with excitement as she bounced on her feet. "I wouldn't be surprised!" she squealed, practically vibrating with anticipation. "I mean, if Johnny's here, you know he's got some kind of secret training room hidden away, right?"

Tory raised an eyebrow but was still clearly impressed. "I don't know, Arizona. This place seems so... zen. I wouldn't be shocked if Devon's got some peaceful little garden or a meditation room hidden in here too."

As if on cue, a soft breeze rustled a hanging wind chime from the porch, sending delicate, tinkling notes into the air. The sound felt soothing, and for a moment, Arizona felt like she was walking into some tranquil sanctuary, instead of an evening with Johnny Lawrence.

Sam, tugging her jacket closer against the cool breeze, smirked. "No idea," she admitted, eyes scanning the area. "But I am wearing waterproof shoes in case Johnny throws us in a creek or quicksand."

Arizona chuckled softly, shaking her head. "That's... weirdly specific."

"Not with Johnny," Sam muttered, glancing at her with a knowing look. "Trust me."

The door swung open abruptly, revealing Devon beaming with excitement. Her curly hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her eyes sparkled with anticipation. "You made it!" she exclaimed, stepping aside to let them in. "We're in the basement."

The four girls made their way through the house, passing sleek furniture and family photos hanging on the walls. Devon led the way, her energy infectious, while Arizona hummed under her breath, looking around in awe at the high ceilings and tastefully decorated rooms.

When they reached the basement, Sam and Tory exchanged a glance before stepping inside. The room was surprisingly spacious, though a bit chaotic in its décor. The walls were lined with old posters of action movies, karate tournaments, and motivational quotes. A punching bag hung in the corner, its fabric worn from years of use. Several mismatched beanbags were scattered around, and there was a big TV screen mounted on the wall, the sort you'd find in a well-loved game room.

At the center of the room stood Johnny, hands on his hips, radiating pride like a proud father at a school play. He wore his signature Cobra Kai headband, though it seemed oddly out of place when paired with the festive streamers and Christmas lights strung up around the room.

"Welcome to Miyagi-Do After Dark!" Johnny declared with a flourish, his grin stretching ear to ear as he gestured to the surroundings.

Sam and Tory stopped in their tracks, exchanging confused glances.

"I don't think you should call it that," Sam said cautiously, her brow furrowing. "It sounds... strange."

Johnny raised an eyebrow, looking slightly offended. "What's wrong with it?"

"It sounds... weird," Sam replied, trying to find the right words without hurting his feelings.

Johnny waved a hand dismissively. "Fine. How about Miyagi-Do Nights?"

"No," Sam said immediately, shaking her head.

"Dark Nights?" Johnny tried again, clearly determined to make this work.

Tory crossed her arms and glanced around the room with a raised brow. "Wait. Is this a slumber party?"

Before Johnny could answer, Arizona clapped her hands in excitement. "Yay! I love slumber parties!" She bounced forward, her enthusiasm almost contagious.

Devon, who had been busy arranging a small tray of snacks, looked up with a smile that softened the room. "I've never had one before," she admitted, holding up a box filled with an assortment of nail polish bottles. "I didn't know what color nail polish you guys like, so I got them all."

Sam tilted her head slightly, her confusion giving way to a small, amused smile. Tory, however, still looked unconvinced, her eyes narrowing as she turned back to Johnny. "What is this?"

Johnny, grinning like a proud dad, spread his arms wide. "It's a girls' night!" he announced.

"With you?" Tory asked flatly, clearly skeptical.

Johnny nodded enthusiastically, his face lighting up. "Hell yeah! I'm a girl dad now. I brought cookies, tampons, and everything!" He gestured toward a nearby table, where a plate of slightly burned cookies sat beside a pack of tampons and a stack of old VHS tapes.

Belle burst out laughing, clutching her sides, while Sam pinched the bridge of her nose, trying not to laugh. Tory, on the other hand, looked like she was caught between amusement and annoyance.

"Come on," Johnny urged, motioning toward a pile of sleeping bags in the corner. "Grab a sleeping bag. The Mr. T one's mine, though."

Devon beamed and grabbed a nail polish bottle. Arizona was already sinking into one of the beanbags, eagerly awaiting the nail painting to begin. She sat cross-legged, waiting for Devon to join her, eager to make the most of this unexpected bonding session.

After a few moments, Arizona started painting Devon's nails, the light chatter between them blending in with the calmness of the space.

"So," Arizona said, looking over Devon's shoulder as she worked. "I couldn't help but notice some... tension. Between you and Kenny and Anthony. What's going on there?"

Devon paused, biting her lip as she stared at the bottle in her hand. "Anthony? He's just a friend," she said, her voice careful. "Nothing more. We're close, but that's all."

Arizona smirked, raising an eyebrow. "What about Kenny?"

Devon's cheeks flushed slightly, and she let out a nervous laugh. "Kenny's... well, Kenny's Kenny. But we're just friends too. Honestly, I think we just get along really well."

Arizona's smile widened as she leaned in, trying not to laugh. "Uh-huh. Sure, Devon. But you know, I've seen the way he looks at you."

Devon looked flustered for a moment before turning her head away slightly. "Okay, okay, maybe there's a little something there. But... don't get any ideas, Arizona! We're not there yet."

Arizona grinned, finishing Devon's nails with a flourish. "You'll get there, trust me."

Devon rolled her eyes playfully. "We'll see," she said, still smiling but shaking her head in disbelief at Arizona's teasing.

As the night wore on, the four of them settled into the fun chaos of Johnny's offbeat girls' night. Despite the oddness of the setup, Arizona couldn't help but feel like she was finally starting to make some real connections, especially with Devon. The nail polish bottles, the cookies, and the VHS tapes all came together in a way that felt oddly... perfect.

The room was filled with the soft hum of laughter as the night stretched on. Devon and Arizona, having moved past the awkwardness of the first few moments, were now fully immersed in the fun of Johnny's unexpected "girls' night." The VHS tapes, nail polish, and half-eaten cookies had all taken a backseat to a new, far more energetic activity: a pillow fight.

"Alright, ladies," Johnny said, striding into the middle of the room with exaggerated seriousness, his Cobra Kai headband still in place, though slightly askew. He threw a pillow into the center of the room, where it landed with a soft thud. "This is a no-holds-barred, full-contact competition. I want to see some real fightin' in here!"

Arizona and Devon exchanged mischievous grins, both already holding fluffy, oversized pillows, their eyes gleaming with playful rivalry.

Johnny, ever the self-proclaimed expert, took his role as referee very seriously. He raised his hands like a boxing referee, counting down. "Alright, on three... One! Two! Three!"

The battle began instantly, with Arizona launching herself at Devon, swinging her pillow wildly. Devon was quick to react, ducking and spinning out of the way just in time, her own pillow coming down like a hammer toward Arizona's side. Arizona yelped in surprise, but grinned, quickly jumping back to her feet.

"Ref! She's got a swing that should be illegal!" Arizona shouted dramatically, holding up her hands in mock surrender as she backed off.

Johnny crossed his arms over his chest, looking between the two with mock disapproval. "No cheap shots, Devon! Play fair!"

Devon smirked, not giving an inch. "No such thing as fair when you're up against Arizona!" she shot back, spinning the pillow in her hands like a weapon.

With a dramatic flourish, Devon swung her pillow hard, aiming for Arizona's head, but Arizona ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the blow. Instead, Devon's pillow crashed into the nearby TV stand, knocking a small decoration to the floor.

Johnny jumped in, eyes wide. "Hey, hey! Watch the valuables, Devon!"

"Oops, my bad!" Devon laughed, her tone light but playful. Arizona, seizing the opportunity, lunged forward with a battle cry. She swung her pillow with both hands, catching Devon off guard. The force of the hit sent Devon stumbling back onto the pile of sleeping bags, her own pillow falling from her hands.

"Gotcha!" Arizona declared, victorious. She stood over Devon with her arms raised, ready to bask in the glory of her brief triumph.

Johnny looked at the scene, grinning from ear to ear. "Alright, alright. Arizona's got the first round, but let's see if Devon can rally. We're going to a best-of-three here, folks!" He blew an exaggerated whistle, as though officiating a real match, making it even more ridiculous.

Devon shot up, wiping a playful smear of pillow fluff from her cheek, looking ready to start the next round. "You're not getting away that easy, Arizona," she said with a laugh, grabbing her pillow and bouncing on her feet. "Round two, let's go!"

Arizona raised her pillow, already grinning. "You'll have to catch me first!"

Johnny, enjoying his role far too much, clapped his hands together and motioned between them. "Let's keep it clean, ladies! No dirty tricks—this is about skill, not brute force!"

"Yeah, because it's all about skill when it's just pillows," Sam muttered from the corner, watching the chaos unfold. She was half-amused, half-bemused by the absurdity of it all.

The next round began in a blur of feathers and laughter. Arizona and Devon darted around the basement, their pillows flying in all directions. Johnny pranced about, trying to maintain order and occasionally shouting at them to 'keep it in the ring,' even though there was no actual ring.

Devon spun around, launching a sneaky, low swing at Arizona's legs, making her stumble backwards. Arizona gasped, losing her balance for a second before springing back up, eyes narrowing in playful challenge.

"Oh, it's on now," Arizona said with a mock fierce expression. She charged forward, swinging her pillow with the precision of a seasoned warrior, aiming for Devon's side. But just as she got within striking distance, Devon expertly sidestepped, letting Arizona crash into one of the beanbags instead.

Johnny jumped to the side, hands raised in mock horror. "Oh, no! Arizona's down! This could be the game-changer!"

Devon, unable to hold back her laughter, extended a hand to Arizona. "You okay?" she asked, still chuckling.

Arizona grinned up at her from the floor. "I'll survive," she said dramatically, taking Devon's hand and pulling herself up. "You just wait. I'm not done yet."

As the pillow fight raged on, Johnny continued to shout out 'rules' that no one was following, completely immersed in his self-appointed role as referee. Eventually, the chaos wound down, with both girls collapsing on the pile of pillows, panting from laughter.

Johnny, looking at the scene with a mix of satisfaction and mischief, declared, "Well, I think we've got ourselves a draw!" He threw his hands up, ending the 'match' with a flourish. "Best two out of three will have to wait. These champions need some rest!"

Arizona and Devon exchanged playful glances before high-fiving, both giggling and catching their breath. The basement, which had once felt like a strange and chaotic place, now felt like a home—laughter echoing through it, creating a sense of camaraderie and connection that hadn't been there before.

Johnny sat back, watching the two girls with an overly proud grin. "Yeah, I'd say they make a pretty damn good team."

Tory, who had been watching the entire spectacle from the sidelines, couldn't help but shake her head. "Well, it's a good thing they're not going up against Cobra Kai anytime soon. They'd never survive."

Arizona laughed, propping herself up on her elbows. "Maybe not. But hey, we'd give 'em a run for their money."

Devon shot her a look. "Not bad for a beginner."

The room fell into comfortable silence as they all shared a laugh, the bonds of friendship slowly growing stronger as the night went on. For once, it wasn't about rivalry or fighting; it was just about fun, and maybe a little bit of mischief along the way.

The group huddled together in Devon's dimly lit basement, a heavy sense of anticipation hanging in the air. The low light from the lamps flickered against the stone walls, casting eerie, elongated shadows that made the space feel like something out of a supernatural thriller. The basement had the distinct vibe of a place where mysteries lurked in the corners, and the eclectic array of items on Devon's shelves only added to the atmosphere. Crystals glimmered in the low light, vintage porcelain dolls with wide, vacant eyes seemed to watch from their perches, and jars filled with mysterious substances—dried herbs, strange powders, and unidentifiable liquids—lined the walls like props from an old alchemist's workshop.

At the center of the table, the Ouija board rested ominously, its letters and numbers staring up like a cryptic puzzle, waiting to be solved. The planchette was already in place, its edges just barely touching the surface of the board as the group settled around it.

Everyone had their fingers lightly on the planchette, expressions ranging from amused curiosity to genuine intrigue. Arizona, however, was visibly struggling to hold back laughter. Her shoulders were shaking with suppressed giggles, her eyes darting to Devon, then to the others, as she tried to maintain some semblance of seriousness. The absurdity of it all—the spooky atmosphere, the collective willingness to embrace the moment—was making it harder for her to contain herself.

Devon leaned forward, her grin widening as she glanced at her friends. She was clearly enjoying herself, fully embracing the ridiculousness of the situation. "Okay, I've got one," she said, her voice dripping with playful suspense. Her eyes gleamed, and her tone shifted to something more mischievous. "Will Mitch ever win the All Valley?"

Arizona froze, her fingers hovering over the planchette for a moment as she processed the question. Her lips twitched, and her eyes widened with the realization of what had been asked. "Oh, God," she muttered, almost forgetting to hold back her laughter. "Probably not," she added, her voice tinged with amusement.

But as soon as the words left her mouth, her cheeks flushed bright red, and she immediately froze. She could feel everyone's eyes on her as the room went silent. Arizona let out a nervous chuckle, trying to cover her slip. "I mean, no offense or anything, but... he's kinda weak."

Johnny, who had been sitting across from them with his arms crossed, frowned deeply. His expression was a mixture of confusion and genuine concern. "Wait. Who the hell is Mitch?" He twisted his neck, looking at each of the teens one by one, clearly trying to piece together who they were talking about.

Tory glanced at him, her expression deadpan, her lips curling into the faintest of smirks. "Penis Breath."

The realization hit Johnny like a freight train. His face scrunched up in disgust, and he muttered under his breath. "Oh, him."

Without missing a beat, Johnny leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with mischief. Without waiting for permission, he shoved the planchette with force, dragging everyone's fingers along with it. The planchette slid across the board, halting with a loud scrape as it landed firmly on no.

Johnny sat back in his chair with an exaggerated sense of satisfaction. "Nope," he declared loudly, his voice carrying a sense of finality, as if the matter was now settled. He crossed his arms again, his body language leaving no room for debate.

The room exploded with laughter. Arizona nearly slid out of her chair, clutching her stomach as she gasped for air. "Johnny! You can't just do that! That's not how the game works!" she said between her laughter, her eyes watering from the force of it.

Johnny shot her a glance, his face serious in an exaggerated way. "I don't know if I like this Zen Bubblegum," he grumbled, his tone half-joking, half-irritated. Arizona slapped him lightly on the arm in retaliation. "You're acting like your pre-Cobra Kai self again. India turned you back."

"Don't start with that!" she shot back, raising an eyebrow as she gave him a playful shove.

Johnny groaned, rubbing his shoulder. "Oh, I don't know about that. I think that's a bad influence. Gotta stay hard-core, you know?"

Arizona rolled her eyes. "Isn't that a good thing?"

Devon, catching her breath, wiped a tear from her eye as she composed herself. "Okay, okay," she said with a grin, trying to rein in her laughter. "Let's move on before we accidentally summon Mitch's ghost while he's still alive."

The group erupted into another round of laughter, the tension broken. As the noise gradually quieted, everyone leaned forward once again, their fingers hovering over the planchette. The air was lighter now, the mood much more relaxed thanks to Johnny's antics.

Devon glanced around the table, her grin returning as she looked at each of them. "Alright, who's got the next question?" she asked, clearly relishing the chaos.

Before anyone else could respond, Johnny leaned in, his grin widening like a cat who'd just spotted a mouse. "Does Tory want Arizona to fall down a flight of stairs and break every single bone in her little body?" he asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence.

Arizona shot him a disapproving look, her eyes narrowing as she kicked his ankle sharply under the table. The sudden contact made Johnny yelp in surprise.

"Hey!" Johnny rubbed his shin, his face contorting in mock pain. "What? I'm just asking." He grabbed the planchette and began moving it himself, dragging it across the board. It slowly, almost deliberately, spelled out: Y-E-S.

Johnny leaned back in his chair, looking smug as ever. "Well, there it is," he declared with an exaggerated shake of his head. "That's ugly."

Tory's jaw dropped. Her face turned a shade of red that was just a shade away from fury. "Johnny, what the hell?!"

Arizona glared at him, hands on her hips. "Why would you even ask that?" she demanded, her voice sharp with irritation.

Johnny raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger! It's the board saying it, not me," he said, his tone defensive but clearly enjoying the uproar he'd caused.

Devon groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Maybe we should just—"

Johnny interrupted her, clearly on a roll. "Fine, fine. How about this? If Sam could describe Tory in one word, what would it be?" He grinned mischievously, his eyes lighting up at the thought of stirring up some more drama. With that, he grabbed the planchette again and began moving it in slow, deliberate strokes.

Arizona crossed her arms, her expression one of disbelief. "Why are we even letting him ask questions? This was supposed to be a fun girls' night!" she protested, her voice exasperated.

Johnny shot her a defiant look. "Because I'm your Sensei, and a girl dad now," he said, puffing out his chest like he was making a great proclamation.

Arizona rolled her eyes, glancing over at Devon, who was trying to suppress her own laughter at Johnny's antics.

Johnny slowly dragged the planchette, each movement painstakingly slow as he spelled out the word: B... I... T...

"Johnny, don't," Arizona warned, her voice tight with barely contained frustration.

"...C... H...," Johnny finished, leaning back with a triumphant look on his face. "See? It could've been worse."

Before he could finish his sentence, Sam and Tory got up from the table in a simultaneous movement, both of them clearly offended by the result.

"Bitching," Arizona interjected, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she yanked her hands off the board. "Real classy, Johnny."

The room was suddenly quiet, and everyone seemed to hold their breath for a moment, the awkwardness of the moment hanging in the air. Sam and Tory exchanged glances, both still processing what had just happened. Arizona, visibly annoyed, shot Johnny one last glare before storming out of the room.

The living room was alive with a light, carefree energy as Arizona, Sam, and Tory sprawled on the plush, oversized couch. The air was thick with the sound of laughter and TikTok videos, each one more ridiculous than the last. The girls were a tangled mess of limbs, leaning into each other for support as they held their phones, scrolling through the latest viral clips. Sam, always the trendsetter, had her phone in hand, her thumb moving deftly as she clicked through one absurd video after another. A group of kids dancing in synchrony to a trending song. A poorly timed prank that ended with a dog getting covered in flour. The occasional clip would send them into peals of laughter, their bodies shaking with amusement.

Tory, perched on the edge of the couch, nearly spit out her soda when a clumsy golden retriever slipped on a patch of ice, its legs flailing like a cartoon character. Belle, curled up beside them, clutched her sides, her face turning red as she laughed at a perfectly-timed lip-sync fail involving a girl trying and failing to sing along with a popular rap song. The lip-sync had been so poorly executed it was almost a performance art piece in itself.

Despite the joyful atmosphere, a sudden interruption broke through the playful noise. Tory's phone buzzed, the notification cutting through the cozy hum like a jolt of cold water. She picked it up, her face relaxed at first, then slowly furrowing into confusion as she read the text message aloud, her voice laced with disbelief.

"Hey, it's from Miguel," she said, squinting at the screen. "It says, 'Hola, mamacita. How about you drop the zero and get with the hero?'"

The words hung in the air like an unexpected punch, and the laughter in the room instantly faltered. Arizona froze mid-laugh, her stomach twisting. Why is Miguel texting Tory? Her heart thudded in her chest, the discomfort spreading through her like ice water. Her eyes flickered nervously to Sam, whose face mirrored her own confusion. Before Arizona could react, her phone vibrated in her lap, a call from Robby flashing on the screen.

"What's going on with Robby?" Tory asked, suspicion creeping into her tone as she glanced up from her phone to Arizona's.

Arizona, trying to maintain composure, shrugged a little too stiffly. "I don't know..." Her voice trailed off, and she quickly declined the call, trying to ignore the sudden tension that had settled over them.

But then, as if the universe had conspired to complicate things further, Tory's phone buzzed again, and her expression darkened as she unlocked it. She read aloud from the screen, her voice sharp with incredulity.

"'Hey, drop that zero of a man named Robby Keene. I'll drop Samantha LaRusso. Hit me up.'"

Arizona let out a startled laugh, the sound far more forced than before. "Even though Dylan makes his nerdy flirty remarks and they're kinda cute, this is just—no. That's not like him." Her voice trailed off, the weight of the situation sinking in.

The three girls exchanged glances, their confusion quickly shifting into something darker. The realization was swift and uncomfortable: it wasn't just a coincidence. Johnny Lawrence was behind this.

Without a word, the trio stood up, the energy in the room now tense and heavy, their footsteps almost synchronized as they made their way toward the kitchen. Johnny, standing near the counter, went rigid as he caught sight of them approaching, his body immediately going on the defensive. His eyes darted nervously between their faces, and he awkwardly shoved three phones—Miguel's, Dylan's, and Robby's—behind his back.

"Johnny," Sam said, her voice cold and accusatory, her arms crossed over her chest. "What's behind your back?"

Johnny, ever the master of feigned innocence, blinked exaggeratedly, his eyes wide. "Uh, my hands. Nothing. Just... my hands."

Arizona wasn't buying it for a second. Her fingers moved quickly to pull out her own phone, and within seconds, Miguel's phone vibrated in Johnny's grasp, the unmistakable hum cutting through the tension. Johnny's eyes widened in panic, and he stammered, "Uh, Devon! Your phone's ringing!" He tried to cover the obvious lie, clutching Miguel's phone even tighter, as if that might somehow make it less obvious.

Sam's gaze hardened. She held up her phone, showing Johnny the screen. And then, as if on cue, Dylan's phone rang loudly from where Johnny had hidden it. The room seemed to freeze, the evidence laid bare.

Johnny threw his hands up defensively. "Wow, multiple lines!" he said in an exaggerated tone, as if the sheer number of phones somehow explained everything.

Tory, her patience already wearing thin, narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms tightly. "You're catfishing us."

Johnny blinked, genuinely confused. "I don't know what that is, but catfish is gross."

Sam groaned loudly, her hand running through her hair in frustration. "You've been messing with us all night, and now you're trying to get us to fight again?"

Devon, who had been lingering awkwardly in the corner, finally broke the silence. "We just... we wanted to help you get your edge back. So things could go back to the way they used to be."

Arizona's glare was sharp as she snapped, "Tonight was supposed to be fun. But it hasn't been."

Tory, her voice dripping with frustration, folded her arms tightly across her chest. "You think things were better when we hated each other?"

Johnny, clearly not understanding the gravity of the situation, piped up quickly. "Not hated, exactly. Just, like, strong dislike! The kind that keeps things spicy, you know?" He gestured vaguely, trying to make it sound like some kind of healthy dynamic. "Frenemies. A little competition never hurt anyone."

Sam's eye twitched with irritation. "I thought you were Miyagi-Do now?" she shot back, exasperated.

Johnny, puffing his chest out, pointed around the room with a sense of pride. "I am Miyagi-Do! Look at this! We're indoors, with pillows and chocolates and air conditioning. Very Miyagi-Do." He paused, clearly searching for the right words. "I just want you to hate each other... in a friendly way. Like fun, productive hating!"

Sam's groan was heavy with disbelief. "I'm calling an Uber."

"Same," Tory muttered, already grabbing her bag.

Arizona stood up too, shaking her head in exasperation. "I'll go with one of you. This is ridiculous."

The three girls walked off toward the hallway, collecting their things as Johnny stood frozen in the kitchen, watching them go. He scratched the back of his head, his expression one of pure confusion. "I can't believe that didn't work."

Devon, still sitting in the corner, sighed heavily. "You really suck at this."

The night air was crisp and slightly cool, the kind that brushed against the skin like a reminder that autumn was on its way. Sam, Tory, and Arizona stood by the curb, their figures outlined in the soft light from the streetlamps, each holding their phone, absorbed in the glow of the screens. The world around them hummed with the distant sounds of passing cars and the occasional bark of a dog. The usual energy they shared earlier, filled with lighthearted TikTok laughter, now felt as distant as the fading sunset.

Sam was the first to break the silence. She glanced down at her phone, the light from it casting a warm glow on her face. "Arizona and I's Uber is five minutes away," she said, her voice calm, though there was a subtle edge of tension hanging in the air.

Tory, standing a few steps away, shifted her weight on her feet, her arms folded across her chest as if bracing for something, her posture stiff. She didn't immediately respond, but the flicker of her phone's screen reflected off her face, giving away that her Uber was also just around the corner. "Yeah, mine too," she replied, her voice neutral, yet the tension in her stance didn't go unnoticed.

Arizona stood between them, feeling the unease that had settled into the space like an uncomfortable cloud. Her fingers nervously fiddled with the hem of her jacket, and she looked up at the sky, as if trying to find something to say that would ease the pressure. She cleared her throat. "My driver has a 4.99 rating," Sam said suddenly, holding up her phone for them both to see. "That's gotta be double Sensei Lawrence's rating, right?"

Arizona smirked, a glint of humor finally breaking through the thick silence. "And three times his rating for hosting a slumber party," she teased, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Tory allowed herself a faint laugh, the corner of her mouth twitching upward in a brief smile. "Yeah, no argument there," she muttered under her breath, her shoulders loosening slightly, but only for a moment. The brief levity vanished almost as quickly as it had come, replaced by the heavy, unspoken tension that had been looming since they left Johnny's house.

The quiet stretched out again, awkward and thick. Sam shifted, her arms crossing tightly over her chest, her expression hardening. "I still can't believe he stole their phones," she muttered, shaking her head as if trying to shake off the absurdity of the situation.

"For real," Arizona agreed, a soft laugh escaping her as she shook her head in disbelief. "Like, did he really think we'd fall for that? I wonder how he even got Dylan's phone though. Makes sense for Miguel and Robby, considering he lives with Johnny."

Tory, whose mind had clearly shifted to darker thoughts, ground her teeth together as she stared down at the pavement. "I don't know," she said, her tone sharper now, eyes narrowing as she looked up at Sam. "It's not like Sam's never tried to steal your boyfriend before, Arizona."

The comment hit like a slap. Arizona's breath caught in her throat as her heart skipped a beat. Her eyebrows shot up, her mind momentarily blank. "You're not wrong..." she muttered, her voice trailing off, the sting of the past returning in a rush.

Sam's face hardened at the remark, a flicker of guilt flashing in her eyes before she quickly masked it with defensiveness. "I was drinking," she muttered lowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "And regardless, I know that was a huge mistake." Her lips tightened, and after a long pause, she added softly, "But that was over a year ago."

Arizona snorted, folding her arms tighter across her chest as the weight of the past pulled at her again. "Oh, so what? That makes it okay?" Her words came out sharper than she intended, the frustration bubbling up despite her best efforts to stay calm.

Tory shifted uncomfortably between them, her arms folding defensively as she shot a glare at Sam. "It doesn't," she agreed, her voice edged with frustration. "You knew Ari was dating Miguel."

Sam tilted her head, a dangerous glimmer in her eye as frustration bubbled to the surface. "The shit you and Tory pulled after that wasn't okay either!" she snapped.

Arizona's frown deepened, the memories surging back. "Like when Tory made me slash Sam's arm with her spike bracelet," she muttered bitterly, the cold weight of that night still fresh in her mind. And the accident—oh God, the accident that left both her and Tory on probation.

Tory rolled her eyes, her face hardening. "Oh, here we go," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Little Miss Perfect LaRusso, back at it again."

Sam's patience snapped, her frustration leaking into her voice as she raised it. "You and Arizona attacked me at school!" she shot back, stepping forward with a pointed finger. "And don't act like you didn't provoke it!"

"You tried to steal my boyfriend!" Arizona shouted, the anger rising in her chest, her voice cracking under the pressure.

"And Sam attacked me at prom!" Tory interjected, her tone rising to meet the volume of their words.

Sam blinked, visibly taken aback, but before she could speak, she blurted, "You broke into my house! You forced Arizona to hurt me with weapons in my own house!"

Tory's arms flew up in exasperation. "I regret it, okay!?" Her voice cracked as she shouted. The anger faded as quickly as it had come, and she stood there, deflated. "I regret it all. It was never supposed to go this far."

Arizona shot a hard look at Tory, her heart pounding in her chest. "Then why did you always try to do your dirty work?" she asked, her voice tinged with hurt.

Tory's eyes softened, her defensive walls faltering for the first time that night. "I fucked up, I know. I—I don't know why I made you do things," she said quietly, her voice trembling. "I was angry. I don't know why I let it go that far, but I regret it. I tried to make things right, and then Sam attacked me again!"

Sam shook her head fiercely, stepping forward. "No, you started this whole thing!"

Tory stepped closer, her voice firm, but there was something raw and vulnerable beneath it. "Did I?" she asked, the challenge in her words heavy. "Because the first time we met, you accused me of stealing your mom's wallet. And even after you found out it wasn't me, you never apologized! I was the new kid, with no friends, and when I finally connected with someone, you came in and ruined it."

Her words hit hard, and the silence stretched on as Sam and Arizona froze, the weight of her truth hanging heavily in the air. Neither of them knew how to respond at first.

Sam's voice was barely audible when she spoke. "You're right," she whispered.

Arizona was silent for a long moment, the emotions swirling in her chest. Finally, Sam's gaze softened, guilt clouding her features. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice steady but filled with regret. "I was jealous. I made a really shitty call, and I should've apologized a long time ago."

She turned to Arizona, her eyes softening. "And I'm sorry to you too. For kissing Miguel. And..." She swallowed hard, her voice thick. "Dating your best friend without telling you first."

Arizona blinked, shocked. Her lips parted, but no words came out at first. She let out a breath, then managed a soft smile. "It's okay," she said quietly, her voice steady. "You and Dylan are cute."

Tory's shoulders sagged in relief, her eyes bright with unshed tears. She wiped a tear from her cheek, her voice quieter now. "I'm sorry too," she said, the words trembling in her throat. "Things went too far. It was my fault."

Sam's gaze dropped to the faint scar on her arm, the edges barely noticeable now, a silent reminder of their troubled past. "It's not that bad anymore," she said softly, offering a tentative smile. "It's pretty much faded. Kind of like this... thing between us, right?"

Arizona nodded, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah. Kinda like it never happened," she said, her voice light with a mix of disbelief and relief.

The tension seemed to dissipate as the three of them stood there in the quiet, the soft rustle of their clothes the only sound between them. Without another word, Arizona and Sam exchanged a glance before stepping forward and pulling Tory into a tight, unexpected hug. Tory froze for a moment, unsure of what to do, but then she gave in, melting into the embrace. Her arms wrapped around them, holding them close as if afraid to let go.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of their grudges, the anger, and the betrayals seemed to lift, leaving only a shared understanding between them. It was as if, in that moment, they were all finally letting go—letting go of the past and everything that had held them apart.

ASH SPEAKS!!!

both cinnamon girl & matching scars are updated to season 6 part 2 and now i wait for part 3!! you guys should check them out :)

arizona, sam and tory have worked their shit iut yayy!!!

we're not done with episode 3 just yet... next chapter will solely be based on dylan and a boys night with mig robby eli and demetri! (arizona will be included in this so her and miguel can have a talk about what happened in india)

PLEASE DONT BE A GHOST READER!!!
COMMENT AND VOTE! IT HELPS US WRITERS STAY MOTIVATED:) PLEASE JUST STOP BEING A GHOST READER!! ITS ANNOYING!!