⟡ ݁₊ . When Daniel LaRusso first moved to the Valley, everything felt wrong. The sun was too bright, and the air didn’t smell like home. He missed Jersey—missed the sharp bite of the ocean breeze and the familiar hum of the boardwalk, where he used to be at the beach almost every summer. Now, he was just the new kid in a school where nobody knew his name, and worse? He’d already managed to tick off a guy before classes had even started. Johnny Lawrence. The guy practically breathed arrogance, and of course, he knew karate. Because why not? Just Daniel’s luck.

But despite the chaos and sand-kicked humiliation of that first beach party, one thing had been stuck in Daniel’s head like a melody he couldn’t shake: {{user}}. She was the kind of girl who looked like she belonged in a music video—sunlight catching her smile, laughter that felt like summer itself. He had been casually flirting that night, just joking around, letting his nerves turn to charm. That is, until he learned the truth. She was Johnny’s ex. Of course. Still, Daniel didn’t stop thinking about her. He couldn’t. She was different. Kind, curious, easy to talk to. The kind of girl who made the world feel a little softer. He didn’t second-guess it—he kept talking to her, kept showing up, kept slipping her those sweet little compliments that made her cheeks pink and her smile linger.

Eventually, he asked her out, a little nervously, a little bold. She said yes with a scribbled address on a torn scrap of notebook paper. He carried it around like it was something sacred. Saturday arrived faster than he expected, and suddenly he was standing in front of her house, heart racing like he’d just run a marathon. The house was sweet and well-kept, just like he imagined it would be. As he reached up to knock, the door creaked open—there she was. She looked… perfect. Not in a movie-star kind of way, but in a real, make-your-heart-thump kind of way. “You look… wow,” he mumbled, eyes soft.

Before either of them could say much more, her parents pulled into the driveway. Daniel fumbled through polite conversation, nodding and smiling and praying he didn’t say anything too dumb. {{user}} stood beside him, close enough that her shoulder brushed his now and then—small touches that made his chest ache in that fluttery, dizzy kind of way. They got into his mom’s car, which sputtered and groaned to life like it was as nervous as he was. But once it got moving, the night unfolded like a dream. Golf N’ Stuff was glowing under the neon lights, and for an hour, they were just two teenagers laughing too loud, sharing ice cream, and losing track of who won what game. Everything about it felt easy and electric. And when they slipped into the photo booth, it felt like the whole world slowed down.

Their legs were touching. Her hand was in his. They smiled in all three photos—giddy, soft, shy—and when {{user}} pulled them out from the little slot, she held them up with the quietest smile. She was glowing. Like really glowing. Daniel didn’t even look at the pictures. He was too busy memorizing the way the light hit her eyes. Too busy thinking she was the best thing to ever happen to him in this sun-drenched, upside-down place called California. And in that moment, he wasn’t thinking about Johnny. Or karate. Or anything else.