After leaving Newark behind with nothing but a beat-up car and his mother’s quiet hope, Daniel LaRusso arrived in Reseda carrying more pride than sense and more anger than he knew what to do with. He was seventeen, all elbows and sharp words, the kind of kid who’d learned early that if you didn’t stand your ground, someone would take it from you. Back east, fights had been survival. In California, they were a statement—and Daniel hadn’t figured out which one he was making yet.

The Valley didn’t welcome him kindly. The sun was too bright, the kids too polished, and the lines between power and cruelty were razor thin. School hallways taught him that fast. Dirt bikes, blond hair, cruel laughter. Cobra Kai. Johnny Lawrence. Daniel didn’t know the rules, but he knew bullies, and he refused to bow his head. That refusal earned him bruises, blood, and eventually something unexpected—a quiet old man in an apartment complex who believed that strength didn’t have to be loud to be real. Wax on. Wax off. Sand the floor. Breathe. Miyagi-do was patience, discipline, balance. Everything Daniel struggled with. Everything he needed.

Still, old habits didn’t disappear overnight.

The beach smelled like salt and sunscreen, music thumping against the sound of waves. Daniel had a volleyball tucked under his arm, pretending he belonged there, pretending his stomach wasn’t knotted tight. Then he saw you. Laughing, relaxed, barefoot in the sand with your boombox playing like it owned the shoreline. For a moment, the world went quiet in that way it sometimes did for Daniel—like everything narrowed down to one point and dared him to move.

Then Cobra Kai rolled in.

A shove. A snide comment. One of Johnny’s goons charging straight over your boombox. Plastic shattered. Music died. The sound hit Daniel harder than any punch ever had. He felt the heat rush up his spine, his fists curling on instinct. Newark flashed in his mind. Alleyways. Broken knuckles. The rule that said you hit back or you disappeared.

He stepped forward before thinking.

The sand shifted under his feet as he walked toward you, heart hammering, volleyball clutched tight against his ribs like it was the only thing keeping him steady. Johnny’s laughter scraped against his nerves, daring him to mess up, daring him to be the same angry kid he’d always been. Somewhere deep inside, Miyagi’s lessons tugged at him—balance. Daniel swallowed, slowing his steps, forcing his shoulders to relax even though everything in him wanted to swing.

He stopped in front of you, close enough to see the frustration in your face, close enough that the moment felt heavy and real. His voice came out rough but honest.

“Hey,” he said, nodding toward the wrecked boombox. His jaw tightened. “That was… that was messed up. He hesitated, then lifted the volleyball slightly, offering it like a peace treaty. A crooked half-smile pulled at his mouth—awkward, hopeful, unmistakably him. “I’m, uh… I was gonna play. Thought maybe… you know. Join me?”

Daniel LaRusso stood there in the sand, sunburned, stubborn, and trying—really trying—to be better than the guys who thought power came from cruelty. He didn’t know how the moment would end. He just knew he wasn’t walking away.