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"𝐒𝐎, how was the movie last night?" Stella asked, swirling her straw in her strawberry lemonade.

"It was iconic," Lori said, tossing her hair back with a grin. "Except Carter got so hyped during one of the fight scenes, he like—launched his popcorn everywhere. Total disaster."

"I did not," Carter protested, holding up his hands. "It was just a little spill."

Amy smirked, setting her Coke glass down. "Uh, no. It was the whole bag. Will and I saw the popcorn avalanche."

"Whatever," Carter muttered, though a smile tugged at his mouth.

Kara leaned in, crossing her arms. "Well, speaking of fights... did one break out after you and Johnny told your dad?"

Stella sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Surprisingly, no. Daddy was... calmer than I expected. He did remind Johnny that he knows how to use a gun, though."

Kara let out a sharp laugh. "That sounds exactly like Mr. Walker."

But Amy tilted her head. "What about the rest of it? You're holding something back."

Stella hesitated, then glanced at each of them. "Johnny's expression softened when I said he was gentle with me. But then Daddy leaned forward and said—" she lowered her voice to mimic Nathan's grounded tone—"'You know what bothers me, Johnny? You didn't come to me like a man. My daughter had to carry this secret. That doesn't sit well.'"

Her friends exchanged glances.

"And Johnny bristled," Stella continued. "He squared his shoulders and said, 'With all due respect, sir... you don't exactly make it easy to sit down for a heart-to-heart.'"

Amy gave a low whistle. "Oof."

"Yeah. Then Daddy looked him dead in the eye and said, 'You're right. I don't. Because men who hide things usually don't deserve my trust.'"

The table went quiet for a beat.

"God, that is so Walker," Kara said finally. "Steel and fire in one sentence."

"Total sheriff energy," Lori added with a little pout. "Your poor dad probably aged ten years in one dinner."

"Yeah, well," Stella muttered. "Johnny wasn't exactly making it easy."

Kara reached for her iced tea. "By the way... have you seen the tweet?"

Stella frowned. "What tweet?"

Amy leaned forward, her tone dry. "Last night, Johnny tweeted that he and Mr. LaRusso are fighting tomorrow night. Like, officially. It had 'drunk post' written all over it."

Stella groaned, fishing her phone from her bag. Her feed loaded, and her eyes widened. "Damn. He went full Twitter rant. Should've known something was off when he stumbled in at two A.M., reeking of Coors."

"So wait—this is real?" Carter asked, looking half concerned, half entertained. "Johnny and Daniel are actually going to throw down? That's... kind of awesome."

"Dude, really?" Kara shot him a glare.

"What?!" Carter held up his hands defensively.

Lori rolled her eyes dramatically. "Men. Can't live with them, can't live without them."

"Babe," Carter said, shooting her a playful glare.

"You know I'm kidding," Lori giggled, brushing his arm.

Kara leaned back against her chair, eyeing Stella. "Stell, we don't envy you. You're about to be the referee between your dad, your boyfriend, and your boyfriend's Twitter fingers. How do you even do it?"

Stella swirled her drink again with a wry smile. "It's a gift... and a curse."

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Stella and August stepped into the Reseda apartment complex, only to find Johnny in the courtyard, balancing on one leg with his arms up, mimicking the crane kick.

"Oh, hey. Good timing." He was panting, sweat dripping, but his eyes lit up when he saw Stella. "Think I've got a counter to LaRusso's bread-and-butter. I make like I'm gonna walk into it again, then at the last second—boom—I slip under, shoulder check him in the balls, take him to the mat, elbow, elbow, elbow." He demonstrated each move with raw intensity, finishing with a fist pump. "Point Lawrence. Winner."

"Got ya..." August said slowly, staring at him wide-eyed.

"All right. You be him, so I can try this at game speed. Stella, you're the ref." Johnny clapped August on the shoulder, then turned back, arms raised like he was already in a fight. "You guys gonna help me win or what?"

"Honestly, Sensei... I wish you two weren't fighting at all," August admitted, fidgeting with the strings on his backpack.

Johnny's jaw clenched, but he didn't back down. "Yeah, well. Too bad, 'cause it's go time. You'll thank me when we're done with all this kata crap and I can prepare you for an actual fight." He bounced on his toes like a boxer, ready for war.

"So let me get this straight," Stella said, voice calm but curious. "If you win, they train Eagle Fang. There's no Miyagi-Do?"

"You got it, princess." Johnny shot her a crooked grin, his tone lighter with her than it had been with August.

"But what if I... don't want to stop learning Miyagi-Do?" August asked quietly.

Stella's heart sank for her brother. He wanted to be loyal to Johnny, but he was also drawn to Daniel's teaching, and it was tearing him in two.

Johnny stopped dead, his tone sharp. "What the hell are you saying? You want him to win?" He took a step forward, heat in his voice.

"No, Johnny," Stella cut in quickly, steady but firm. "What August is saying is that no matter who wins the fight, nobody really wins."

Johnny's eyes snapped to hers, frustration simmering. "Somebody always wins. That's how fights work. All right? No matter what ancient philosophical bullshit LaRusso's been feeding you."

"Ok, Sensei. Good luck," August muttered, scoffing as he turned and walked away, leaving Johnny and Stella alone.

"Johnny—"

"You think I'm wrong?" His voice dropped, raw, searching her face.

"Johnny," Stella said softly, stepping closer, "I think in the end, no matter who wins, there will always be consequences. I don't think one is wrong and one is right." She reached up, brushing her fingers against his jaw for a second. "I'll see you tonight, okay, hon?"

Johnny's bravado cracked. He exhaled, looking at her like she was the only thing steadying him. "All right." His voice softened to something he never gave anyone else. "I love you."

A smile warmed her face as she backed toward her truck. "I love you too."

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

When night fell, Johnny and Stella pushed through the doors of the Miyagi-Do dojo. The air was cool and heavy, lantern light spilling across the sparring deck where the students of both dojos were already gathered.

The moment Johnny stepped inside, the crowd of teens swarmed him.

"He's here, he's here!" Chris shouted, shoving his phone right in Johnny's face. "Anything you wanna say to the camera, Sensei Lawrence?"

Stella stayed back, arms crossed, her eyes fixed on Johnny. He ignored the kids completely, his jaw tight, and strode up toward the sparring deck. Daniel was already kneeling there, calm and centered, dressed in his white gi and signature headband.

"What are all the kids doing here?" Johnny asked, his boots thudding against the deck as he closed the distance.

"That's what happens when you broadcast your life all over social media," Daniel replied coolly.

Johnny glanced at the kids watching, then down at his own feet. His voice dropped. "All right, look, maybe there's a better way."

"There is. You just won't admit it."

Johnny bristled. "Don't you ever think you might be wrong about anything?"

Daniel's patience thinned. "What are we doing here? You wanna rehash your entire baseless argument from last night in front of these kids?"

"No." Johnny's voice was steel. "I want what's best for them."

"What's best for them is Miyagi-Do. If fighting you is the only way I can get there, then let's just get this done."

"All right, LaRusso. Let's finish this."

Daniel nodded, standing. As Johnny disappeared briefly to change into his gi and black headband, the students buzzed with anticipation. August and Samantha took their places as referees, flags in hand.

The match began.

Johnny struck first, raw aggression and speed. Daniel blocked, countered, each movement calculated and precise. The students shouted from the sidelines, commentary spilling out, until Sam raised her flag.

"Point, Lawrence."

The fight continued—Johnny's fire against Daniel's control. One point. Then another. The score climbed, the tension thickened. Neither man would give an inch.

When Daniel unleashed a nerve strike, Johnny's arm went dead, pain twisting his face.

"What the hell, man?" Johnny snapped, shaking out his arm.

But he kept fighting, refusing to quit. He took Daniel to the mat, earning his second point. Soon, the score was tied. One final exchange, fists flying, blocks colliding—until both men struck at the same time.

"Point, Lawrence!"

"Point, LaRusso!"

"Check the replay!" Demetri shouted, while Chris rewound his phone. The footage showed exactly what they'd seen—both strikes landing simultaneously. No winner. No closure.

"Go to another angle." Johnny said.

"There is no other angle." Chris replied, staring at him.

"Don't you guys have another phone?" Johnny asked

Before the arguing could spiral further, footsteps rustled in the grass outside. Heads turned. Hawk walked forward, hood pulled over his face.

"Hawk?" August called, hopping off the deck.

"Shit, Eli, what happened?" Demetri asked.

Hawk reached up and pulled off his hood to reveal his purple mohawk to be gone. Tufts of purple were still visible, showing evidence of what used to be.

"Hawk, are you okay?" Stella rushed to him, pulling him into a hug

"Who did this?" Johnny demanded.

"Cobra Kai," Hawk said bitterly.

Johnny's face hardened with rage. "Kreese and Silver did this. They need to pay."

"Jesus, Johnny," Daniel cut in sharply. "Kreese tried to kill you last time, and now you wanna fight them both?"

"Damn right I do! Look what they did!" Johnny spat, pointing at Hawk.

Daniel shook his head, exasperated. "Dousing the fire with gasoline—that's your answer? Why am I not surprised?"

"Sensei, stop," August pleaded.

But Johnny wouldn't back down. "You still think your way is the only way. You were so proud when they pulled their little sprinkler prank the other day. But if they'd stood their ground and kicked some ass like I taught them, this never would've happened."

Daniel's voice was sharp, desperate. "And if they fight every time they're provoked, where does that lead? Back to the hospital? Or to jail? Just 'cause you spent your time in both—"

"Enough, Dad," Sam interrupted firmly.

"What?" Daniel turned to her, stunned.

"Johnny's right. It doesn't matter how many times we stand up to Cobra Kai. If we don't strike back, they're gonna keep coming at us."

Daniel's voice broke. "And you were worried about my influence on your kids? Is this what you want, Johnny? To have my daughter and the rest of my students acting like you?"

Johnny's jaw clenched. "You don't have to worry about it anymore. 'Cause we're done."

"Works for me," Daniel shot back.

"Eagle Fangs, let's go," Johnny barked.

As Stella walked away with the Eagle Fangs, her stomach churned. She hated every second of it—hated the divide. One thing was clear: Johnny and Daniel needed each other. It was the only way they'd ever stand a chance against Kreese and Terry Silver.

"Hey, you okay, sis?" August asked as he slid into the Impala beside her. "You look a little green."

"Yeah. I'm fine." Stella's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "C'mon. Let's get you home."

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That night, Stella slipped quietly into her bedroom, the soft fabric of her favorite light pink Miss Elaine nightgown brushing against her skin. The lace gathered at the neckline framed the tiny rosebud at the center—a detail Johnny never failed to notice. It was his favorite too.

She had just finished applying her lotion, the warm scent of jasmine and vanilla drifting with her as she crossed the room. Johnny was already stretched out on the bed, lying on his side. His jaw was tight, shoulders still braced like he hadn't put the fight down yet.

When she climbed in beside him, he immediately reached for her, pulling her close until her body was tucked against his chest, his arm wrapped around her like a lifeline. She felt the uneven rhythm of his breathing, the storm still alive in him.

For a long while, neither spoke. Then, gently, she whispered, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Johnny exhaled, rough and bitter. "What's there to talk about? LaRusso's still LaRusso, kids are caught in the middle, and I'm... I'm still the screw-up who can't get it right."

She brushed her fingers along his jaw. "Johnny..."

His eyes flicked to hers, softening but shadowed with doubt. His voice cracked as he went on. "I keep thinking I'm gonna blow this—blow us. I've screwed up my kid, my students, hell, my whole damn life. And now I've got you, and it's the best thing that's ever happened to me. And it scares the crap out of me, 'cause I don't wanna lose you too."

Her heart ached at the raw honesty in his voice. She cupped his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. "You're not gonna lose me. Not now, not ever. You make me proud, Johnny. You fight for the people you love. That's what I see every time I look at you."

For a beat, he just stared at her, like he was trying to decide if he could let himself believe it. Then he pressed his lips to her forehead, his voice low and ragged. "I love you, princess."

Stella's breath caught, but her smile was warm, certain. "I love you too."

Johnny held her tighter, like he couldn't stand the thought of letting go. And with her curled safe in his arms, the storm inside him finally quieted. Within minutes, the weight of the day eased, and they both drifted into sleep, still tangled together.