Reseda, California – 11:00 AM
Johnny Lawrence walked out of the police station with his head down and his eyes squinting from the morning light. His face was irritated from the pepper spray, his breath smelled like old pizza, and his pride was more bruised than his jaw.
"Freaking snowflake world," he muttered, walking toward the parking lot with a warning slip in one hand and a bag with his belongings in the other.
He had been arrested for "excessive use of force," as if defending a teenager from a group of rich idiots was a crime. But of course, they had expensive clothes and clean faces. And he... he looked like a bum with an attitude.
He walked to the store where he had left his red Charger. But it was gone.
"You've got to be kidding me," he said through clenched teeth.
He stood there for a few seconds, swallowing his rage. Then he ran his hands over his face in frustration.
"Great. Great, Johnny. A night in jail, gassed like a cockroach, and now your car gets stolen. What's next? A fine for breathing wrong?"
He sat on the curb, alone. Pulled out his beat-up phone, turned it on, and read a message from Miguel:
"All good. Your car's home, don't worry. We took it. Don't ask how. P.S.: your car seriously needs a wash."
Johnny let out a dry laugh.
"Damn nerd," he said, shaking his head.
He stood up with effort, stretching his back like he was twice his age. He started walking toward the building. Everything hurt: his body, his pride, his life. He cursed his luck, dragging his feet. He didn't even have bus fare.
After almost half an hour of walking, he finally reached the complex. At the courtyard fountain, he saw Miguel sitting, looking at his phone with a sleepy face.
"Hey, Miguel..." Johnny said hoarsely. "Where's my car?"
Miguel looked up and smiled when he saw him.
"Yeah, we took it for a spin too. Well... he did"—he pointed to the side—"Río drove. I just tried not to die."
Johnny frowned.
"Who the hell is Río?"
Right at that moment, Río came out of one of the first-floor apartments. That morning, he had made a deal with the landlady to rent a small apartment. Nothing fancy, but it worked for what he needed.
"What's up, man? I'm Río," he said when he saw Johnny. "Nice fight yesterday, huh? You looked like Bruce Lee out there."
He walked over to Miguel with a confident smile. Johnny glanced at him sideways, without stopping.
"What style was that? Jiu-Jitsu? Muay Thai?" Miguel asked, curious.
"It's karate, kid," Johnny replied dryly as he walked toward the mailboxes.
Río watched him walk off.
"Can you be my karate teacher?" Miguel suddenly asked. "I want to learn, so they don't mess with me at school anymore."
Johnny stopped for just a second.
"It's not teacher... it's sensei. And no. I gave up karate a long time ago. I don't practice it anymore, much less teach it," he said before going into his apartment and shutting the door without looking back.
We were left in silence. Río shrugged.
"Well, looks like the old man needs coffee," he joked.
Miguel let out a small laugh. Río turned to him.
"I'm heading out. Gonna hit the store for some clothes and groceries for the month. See you later, alright?"
"Cool, good luck," Miguel replied.
Río put on his gloves, went down the stairs, and walked toward his motorcycle.
Reseda, California — 1:00 PM
Discount store. 90s music playing through worn-out speakers. Harsh white lighting.
Río walked down the aisles at a relaxed pace, a basket hanging from his arm. He could afford to shop somewhere fancier, sure. He had enough money to live comfortably for years, but he hated wasting it. He'd learned to value every bill when getting one meant taking a risk.
He put the essentials in the cart: rice, pasta, some cans, coffee, cleaning supplies. Then he passed by the clothing section. Grabbed a plain black hoodie and a pair of jeans. No brands, no flashy tags. He didn't need to look rich, he needed to stay under the radar.
As he moved forward, he noticed two guys near the entrance. One was eyeing people's bags a bit too much. The other pretended to be on the phone, but kept scanning the crowd.
Río analyzed them. Nervous, poorly disguised. Second-rate thieves.
"Idiots," he muttered, but kept walking.
He grabbed a new toothbrush, some soap, and a cheap pair of headphones. Checked his wallet. Plenty of cash, but his instinct always told him: only buy what you'll actually use.
In line to pay, he saw one of the guys "accidentally" bump into an elderly woman. At the same moment, the other one slipped his hand into her purse.
Río sighed.
"Idiots messing with old ladies," Río thought.
He walked toward them without a word. Tapped the thief on the shoulder just as he had the wallet in hand. The guy turned around, surprised.
Río took the wallet with one firm hand, no violence. Handed it back to the woman.
"What's your problem, man?" the guy snapped, trying to intimidate him.
Río didn't respond. He just stared at him, expressionless. The thief hesitated. The other one was already gone. This one also decided it wasn't worth it and rushed out of the store.
"Thank you so much, son..." said the trembling woman.
"No problem, ma'am. Take care," Río replied like it was nothing.
He paid for everything calmly, took his bags, and left. Outside, the sun was blazing. He walked over to his bike, put the groceries in the trunk, and put on his gloves.
He had enough to live well, but luxury was never his thing. He wasn't looking for comfort. He was looking for something quiet.
Reseda, California — 11:00 PM
Johnny's apartment. Blinds closed. Heavy silence.
Johnny lay on his old couch, wearing a tank top and holding a beer bottle. The table in front of him was covered in empty bottles, pizza crusts, and ashtrays filled with half-burned cigarette butts.
An old action movie was playing on TV. Chuck Norris, maybe. Didn't matter which. What mattered were the fights. The hits. The contact. That thing no one seemed to get anymore.
Johnny's eyes were fixed on the screen, but his mind was somewhere else. Some other time.
Flash. The Cobra Kai dojo.
Flash. The sensei shouting: "Strike first! Strike hard! No mercy!"
Flash. Tournaments. Kicks. Falls. Adrenaline. Glory.
Flash. The mat of that damn 1984 tournament. The crane kick. The pain.
Flash. Daniel LaRusso lifting the trophy while he, Johnny, stayed on the floor swallowing his defeat.
He took another long swig of beer and threw the empty bottle toward the trash. Missed. Didn't care.
"They were all traitors," he muttered.
He let the channel surfing continue. Until... he showed up.
Daniel LaRusso. Smiling. Well-dressed. Standing in front of a shiny car.
"Hi, I'm Daniel LaRusso, and here at LaRusso Auto Group, we kick the competition!"
The commercial was a bad joke. Cheerful music, cheesy effects, him smiling like he ruled the world.
Johnny sat still. His knuckles white around the remote.
It played again:
"And remember! At LaRusso Auto Group, we treat you like family."
CRASH.
Johnny hurled the remote at the TV. The screen flickered, froze, then went black.
He sat there in silence. Breathing hard. Jaw clenched.
"Damn LaRusso..." he spat.
He leaned back, eyes closed. He hated him. Hated how he came out on top. How everyone saw him as a hero, an example. And him... he was the one who never really got back up.
Johnny stumbled out of his apartment, still tasting beer and defeat in his mouth. He shut the door without looking back and headed to his car, a single thought in mind: the All Valley arena, a place he hadn't visited in years.
He drove in silence through dimly lit streets. The stereo barely worked, playing an old cassette of 80s rock that crackled more than it played. When he arrived, he parked his red Charger right in front of the entrance.
He got out slowly, like the place weighed more than the air. Walked to the closed gate, looking through the bars at the building's shadows. His steps stopped as the memories hit.
Flash. His sensei choking him in the locker room for coming in second.
Flash. The trophy on the floor. The humiliation.
Flash. The fall of Cobra Kai. The abandonment. The forgetting.
Johnny swallowed hard. Took a deep breath. Rubbed his face.
BANG!
A loud crash cut through everything. Metal on metal. He turned instantly and saw his car... its rear end crushed.
"Shit! What now?!" he shouted, running to the scene.
A black SUV had rammed into his classic. Inside, he saw three teenage girls screaming, panicked, trying to get out.
"Hey! Get out of there now! Look what you did to my car! I'm calling the cops!" Johnny yelled, slapping the window with his open palm.
The girls screamed, terrified. And without a second thought, one of them floored it. The SUV sped off, fleeing the scene with flickering tail lights.
"You gotta be kidding me!" Johnny roared, running back to his car.
He jumped in, turned the key.
Nothing.
Tried again.
Silence.
"Son of a bitch!" he yelled, slamming the steering wheel with both hands.
BOOM!
The airbags exploded in his face.
"Fucking shit!" Johnny shouted, rubbing his nose as he sank into the seat, once again defeated by the universe.
A few minutes later, a tow truck showed up and began hooking up the Charger.
"Alright, take care of it. I'll pick it up tomorrow," Johnny told the driver.
"Yeah, whatever," the guy replied flatly.
"Hey! Where are you taking it?"
"It's on the card," the driver said, tossing one to him before getting in the truck and driving off.
Johnny looked at the card under the yellow streetlight. He held it for a few seconds, frowning as he read.
"LaRusso Auto Group"
He stood there in silence.
"You've got to be kidding me..." he whispered, clenching the card in his hand.
The next day, Río woke up early in his new apartment in Reseda. The California sun filtered through the blinds, bathing the room in warm light. After a quick shower, he made a simple breakfast: scrambled eggs, toast, and black coffee. While eating, he thought about his plan for the day: enroll in the school Miguel had recommended and explore the Valley to get familiar with his new surroundings.
With his backpack on his shoulder, he headed to the parking lot and fired up his motorcycle. The roar of the engine broke the morning silence as he sped through the streets of Reseda, enjoying the breeze on his face.
School Enrollment
Río arrived at Reseda High School, located on Kittridge Street. The red-brick building with wide windows gave him a sense of familiarity. He entered the main building and walked to the administration office.
"Good morning, I'm here to enroll as a new student," Río said to the receptionist.
The receptionist, a kind middle-aged woman, smiled at him.
"Of course, do you have your documents?"
Río nodded and handed over the papers After reviewing everything, the receptionist gave him his class schedule and a map of the school.
—Welcome to Reseda High School, Rio. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask.
Rio thanked her and left the office, officially feeling like part of the student community.
Exploring the Valley
With the enrollment completed, Rio decided to take advantage of the rest of the day to get to know the Valley better. He got on his motorcycle and headed south on Reseda Boulevard, one of the main arteries of the area.
His first stop was the Marvin Braude Mulholland Gateway Park, a 1,500-acre park in the Santa Monica Mountains. He left his motorcycle in the parking lot and walked one of the trails, enjoying nature and the panoramic views of the Valley.
After a refreshing walk, he returned to his motorcycle and continued his ride. He passed by the Reseda Park and Recreation Center, where he saw families enjoying a sunny day, children playing in the park, and people walking their dogs.
Later, he stopped at a local coffee shop for lunch. While eating, he observed the hustle and bustle of daily life in Reseda: students leaving school, workers on their lunch break, and neighbors chatting on the sidewalks.
Reseda, California — 6:42 PM
As evening fell, Rio returned to his apartment. The sky was already tinged with orange, and the air was beginning to cool. As he parked his bike, he saw Miguel sitting on the building's steps, with an expression somewhere between excitement and nerves.
—What's up, Miguel? —greeted Rio, turning off the engine.
—Hey, I was just waiting for you. Guess what —Miguel said, jumping to his feet—. Johnny asked me if I really wanted to learn karate… and he agreed to teach me. He's going to be my sensei.
—What? —said Rio, raising his eyebrows—. Damn, you're gonna become a champ then —he added with a laugh, giving him a high five.
Miguel smiled like a kid with a new toy, but quickly extended the invitation.
—Hey… you could join too. You know, learn karate. What do you think?
Rio thought about it for a second, scratching his neck.
—I don't know, man. I know a bit of boxing and some muay thai, but I don't know if karate is for me… too many rules, and from what I know, only one strike counts. Not really my thing.
—Come on, at least join to help me train. Then you'll see if you like it and want to stay —Miguel said, with that smile of someone who doesn't take "no" easily.
Rio looked at him, hesitating. Then he sighed, resigned.
—Alright, alright. I'll join. I don't have much to do anyway.
—Yes! —Miguel said, giving him a light shove on the shoulder—. You'll see, it's gonna be awesome.
The two entered the building chatting about what was ahead. Rio spent a few hours in Miguel's apartment, they had a light dinner and watched a movie without much interest. When the clock struck ten, Rio decided it was time to go.
He went down the stairs, and just as he was about to enter his apartment, he heard the building door open. It was Johnny, coming in, looking tired and walking like someone who hadn't slept well in years.
—Hey, what's up, man? —said Rio, leaning against the wall—. Miguel told me you're gonna be his sensei.
Johnny looked at him with a slight nod.
—Yeah. I'm going to open a dojo. It's time to turn my life around… try to do something right for once, you know?
—Sure, man. Sounds good —Rio replied, sincerely—. By the way, I never properly introduced myself. I'm Ryo Alvarez. Though I guess Miguel already told you about me.
—Johnny Lawrence —he said, shaking his hand firmly—. Hey… if you're interested, you can join too. You're invited.
—Yeah, Miguel told me. I'm gonna stick around for a while, see how it goes —Rio replied with a half-smile—. Well, man, I'm off. See you later.
—See you, Rio —Johnny said as he opened his apartment door.
Rio entered his and closed the door softly. He took off his jacket, tossed his keys on the table, and dropped onto the couch. After a few seconds, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket. From one of its compartments, he slid out a photograph.
He looked at it in silence.
In the photo, his mother smiled, hugging a young Johnny Lawrence—long before the gray hairs, the defeats, and the empty beers. There was no doubt. He had found him.
But now… he didn't know whether to tell him or not. It wasn't the right time.
He'd keep it to himself, for now.
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