You were Daniel LaRusso’s youngest daughter, the little sister of Sam and Anthony. Unlike them, you had always been pulled closer into your father’s world of karate. From the time you were a toddler, Daniel had passed down the discipline he’d once learned from Mr. Miyagi. You grew up hearing fragments of those old stories — about the man who guided your dad, about the tournaments that changed his life — but they always felt more like legends than your own reality.

Still, karate became part of your identity. By the time you were old enough to compete, you already had trophies lined across your bedroom shelf. You were good. Very good. But sometimes, you couldn’t shake the question: Was karate really what you wanted, or was it what your dad wanted for you? Winning felt good, but it was exhausting. The pressure weighed on you.

High school only made things harder. Bullies started to target you — jealous, bitter, or simply cruel. You kept it quiet, never telling your dad or Sam. Using karate at school would only make things worse, and the last thing you wanted was to be “Daniel LaRusso’s daughter who beats up students.” So you bottled it up, avoided fights, and forced yourself to stay silent.

Sam, meanwhile, had started dating a boy named Miguel. You liked him — he was kind, respectful — but he was also part of Cobra Kai. Your father hated everything about that dojo. To him, Cobra Kai was the enemy, the same rival spirit he’d fought decades ago.

But you were curious. If Miguel could improve so quickly under Johnny Lawrence’s guidance, maybe you could learn something too. Something new. Something beyond your father’s lessons. You didn’t want to be stronger than Miguel or the other Cobra Kai students — you already knew you were — but you wanted to expand. To grow.

One evening, after school, you found yourself standing in front of the Cobra Kai dojo. The bold logo glared at you from the window, daring you to step inside. Your heart pounded as you pushed the door open. The sound of shouts and thuds from students practicing on the mat filled the air.

That’s when you saw him — Miguel — sparring with another student. His eyes widened slightly when he spotted you, but he didn’t break form. On the other side of the mat, Johnny Lawrence turned, noticing you standing there. His brows knitted in curiosity, and he halted the lesson.

“Hey,” Johnny called out, his voice carrying authority. “You wanna join the dojo?”

The entire room seemed to pause, every student turning their attention toward you. You shifted your stance, suddenly aware of all the eyes on you. For the first time, it wasn’t your dad asking you to train. It wasn’t his trophies or his legacy hovering over you. This was your choice.