Chapter Eleven
"Nope. Forty's too high. Too much give. Go thirty."
Johnny resisted the urge to make a joke about having the technology to rebuild Daniel's knee – better, stronger, faster – and moved the slider on the side of the brace again. "Try that."
Daniel flexed and bent his leg carefully. When it stopped at a slight angle – one that should give him some control but still keep the whole thing stable – he smiled.
"Tha's it." He took a drink from the whiskey bottle before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Tha'll work."
"You can walk by yourself like that?"
"Nah." Daniel shook his head. "Don' think I'm ever doin' that again."
Johnny turned toward him in confusion. "Doing what again?"
"Walkin'." Daniel shrugged and took another drink.
Johnny closed his eyes and dropped his head. He wasn't a fan of how indifferent Daniel's voice had become. It was even duller than it had been during the story about Kreese and Terry Silver. But he preferred it to the screams that had filled the air moments before.
He lifted his head, moved forward a few inches, and checked the bandage on Daniel's side again. The stark whiteness stood out against the discolored, swollen skin and the dark streaks that radiated from under it. But the bandage itself, along with the tape and gauze that held it in place, was clean; neither blood nor pus was soaking through. It was a small victory, but it was a victory all the same. He smiled to himself and zipped the hoodie closed.
"Got that stopped," he said as he pulled his hands away. "Wasn't sure that was gonna work."
He hadn't been sure. He hadn't been sure of anything. By the time they'd finally stopped crying all over each other – an incident they had made an unspoken pact to never mention again – Daniel had been covered in his own blood. It coated his hands, his stomach and his side; it soaked through the hoodie and into his jeans; it ran to the ground and dripped into the dirt. Johnny had somehow managed to avoid getting much on him, but he did have a bloody Daniel LaRusso handprint on his shirt.
He'd gotten Daniel to swallow a handful of Tylenol and wash them down with most of a bottle of water. When nothing came back up, Daniel reached for the whiskey and started swigging from it on his own. Johnny hadn't even suggested it.
Getting the brace on had been an experience, but luckily more for the frustration it caused Johnny than the pain it caused Daniel. He'd had no idea something as simple as a knee brace could be so high-tech and complicated.
"What about your arm?" Johnny asked.
Getting Daniel to let him pull those sleeves off so he could see the damage the tree caused was another chore, but it had needed to be done. The inside of Daniel's left arm was ripped and torn from the middle of his bicep to halfway down his forearm, and his elbow was almost as swollen and bruised as his knee. It was no wonder putting it across Johnny's shoulders had hurt. Cleaning and wrapping it hadn't been hard, but the amount of gauze he'd ended up using had made putting the jackets back on a little tricky.
"Is it too tight? Can you bend it?"
Daniel didn't speak, but he did answer. By raising that arm and bending it repeatedly, stopping less than an inch from smacking Johnny in the face every time he straightened it. After the twentieth-or-so time, Johnny reached up and caught his wrist in mid-air.
"Knock it off, smartass."
Daniel grinned before putting the bottle to his lips again.
Johnny crawled the rest of the way and flopped down next to where Daniel sat, propped up against the tree, with one sleeping bag under him and another wrapped around his shoulders. He lifted the hem of his shirt, motioned at the blood on it, and made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat.
"You know that's never coming out, right?" he said. "That promise you made about not getting your blood on my clothes doesn't mean a damn thing to you, does it?"
Daniel glanced over and shrugged. "Sorry."
He tipped the bottle back again. He'd done that several times while Johnny had been bandaging his side and bracing his leg. Johnny hadn't kept count of how many times he'd thrown it back, but when he noticed just how much liquid had disappeared in those few minutes, he cringed. Then he reached over and pulled the bottle out of Daniel's hand.
"Hey!"
"You've had enough," he said as he settled himself against the tree.
"Have not!" Daniel protested.
Johnny rolled his eyes. "I'd almost forgotten what a child you are when you're drunk." The words may have seemed harsh, but the tone he used to convey them wasn't. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to share?"
Daniel huffed. "Only child."
Johnny nodded. "Yeah, so am I. But I need some of this too, ya know."
"Mean."
He couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, yeah. I'm mean, and you're drunk." He glanced at Daniel as he took a drink of his own. "It's Backwards Day."
They hadn't spoken about anything they'd said to each other after the peroxide incident, and Johnny had mixed feelings about that. On one hand, it meant he could avoid the awkward conversation he knew was coming about him saying he "needed" Daniel.
"Hey, Johnny?"
But it also meant he had no idea where Daniel's head was. Which meant for the first time in more than thirty years, he had no idea what Daniel was going to say.
"Yeah?"
Daniel stared straight ahead, looking at nothing, the expression on his face blank and unreadable.
"Why weren't we friends?"
He turned his head slowly and blinked silently. Maybe he hadn't known what was coming, but he hadn't expected that. He also didn't know how to respond to it.
He thought about it for a few seconds, but he couldn't come up with a real answer. There was a reason; he knew what his reason was. He could take a pretty good guess at Daniel's. But down that path was decades of pain and anger – for both of them – that could only be resolved by having a conversation neither of them were in the headspace to have. So he did the only thing he could do: he shrugged, snorted, and said the first thing that came to mind.
"Probably because we hate each other."
He smirked as he said it because he intended it to be a joke. He wanted it to lighten the mood. He thought it would play into the casual way they'd been insulting each other all day. He didn't feel like there was much truth to it anymore.
"Don't hate you."
Even so, the speed of Daniel's denial surprised him.
"You don't?"
"No." Daniel shook his head. "Told you that. Twice. S'not you." He took advantage of Johnny's momentary distraction to reach over and snatch the whiskey from his hand. He wiped it with his sleeve before tossing back another swallow. "You hate me?"
Johnny leaned his head against the tree and stared off at the same nothing Daniel was looking at. He knew the answer. His first instinct was to lie about it, to hide it, but he was starting to get used to the new "talking" policy they'd adopted with each other. Besides, he'd just admitted to himself it wasn't true. What good would lying about it do? He sighed.
"No." He shook his head slowly. "I don't hate you."
Daniel didn't move, and his expression didn't really change, but he did sigh. "So why weren't we friends?"
It was Johnny's turn to grab the whiskey. "Cause we were kids." He took a long drink of his own. "And kids are dumb."
It was a fact neither of them could argue with. Everything about those months was stupid. How many times had he said Daniel was the one who couldn't let things go? But how many times had Daniel set out to intentionally piss him off? Once? Maybe twice? All those months, all the years that followed, how many times had Johnny left well enough alone? Daniel had forgiven him for everything, once upon a time. When had Johnny ever forgiven him?
"Shoulda been." The wistfulness in Daniel's voice was surprising. "Wish we had." The fact that he kept talking about them in past tense was disturbing.
Johnny really wanted to change the subject, because they were walking on the edge of that conversation he was trying to avoid. He knew they needed to have it, and they would, but not then. He needed to pull them both out of the past. The answers they were looking for weren't there. What they needed was a future.
"What's to stop us from doing it now?" He forced the brightness into his voice, and he hoped it wasn't as obvious to Daniel as it was to him. "Yeah, today sucks. But we can …"
He thought back on the lessons he'd learned from Miguel and Carmen. It had been more than a week since he'd decided to stop letting his past mistakes decide his future. He'd dealt with Sid. He'd put the pain his stepfather's neglect had caused behind him. He was going to do whatever he needed to do to fix things with Robby. He wasn't going to let Miguel – or any of his kids – end end up the way he had.
If he could do all that, he could do more. He'd done wrong by so many people, and he would make it up to all of them. And he would start with the man sitting beside him.
When he smiled that time, it was real. "No such thing as a do-over, but who says we can't start again?"
Daniel swiped the bottle again, wiped it, and took another drink. "What're you talkin' 'bout?"
"We can, ya know," he said with a shrug. "We've got time. It's not too — "
"What're you doin'?"
He shook his head in response. He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know what he was saying. He didn't know if they were still planning to go to the car. He didn't know if Daniel was getting up again. He didn't know if they were staying where they were until … whenever whatever was going to happen happened. He didn't know anything.
He yanked the whiskey back.
"Drinking," was his answer.
"Right." Daniel nodded slowly before letting himself sink more deeply into the sleeping bags. His chest hitched as he drew in a deep breath, and he wheezed when he let it out again. "You should prob'ly … get goin' soon."
He'd been waiting for that.
"Gonna hafta drive."
No, he didn't know whether they were going or staying. But he did know that whatever they did, they were doing it together.
"Wrong, as always, LaRusso." He tossed the bottle and his head back again. He didn't stop until he felt the warmth spreading in his chest, and he closed his eyes. He welcomed the sensation of promised oblivion, but he didn't let himself go all the way. He pulled it away and wiped his lips. "I'm gonna sit here," he said. Then he turned his head slightly and held the whiskey out to Daniel. "And get drunk with my friend."
"Johnny …"
"Nope. I go, you go. You stay, I stay. That's it." He shook his head and looked at the bottle in his hand. "Stop it with the 'leave me here' martyr crap. It's getting old."
"Listen …"
"No." Daniel was making no move to take the whiskey from him, so he pulled it back. "I'm not doing anything without you. How many times do I have to say that? If you want me to leave, you're coming with me. If you stay here, I'm staying with you."
Whatever head start they may have had on Mike when they'd gotten to camp, Johnny was sure it had been long-since blown all to hell. If they were going to go, they didn't have much – if any – time to do it. And after everything that had happened, no matter how much he didn't want to admit it, he had to face the fact that Daniel didn't have much time to do anything.
Daniel didn't have much time. Period.
"The boys need you."
"They need us."
"But if it's not poss'ble — "
"It is possible!" he protested, slamming his empty hand against the ground at his side. "It is. It has to be."
"Johnny." Daniel was shaking his head slowly. "You gotta stop."
"What do you want me to do?!' He asked the question more forcefully than he'd intended, but his nerves were shot. He was in pain. He was cold. His fingers were stiff and swollen. He'd had more than enough. And Daniel's defeatism wasn't helping. "Tell me! Tell me what you want me to do!"
"Go."
"No!"
He shoved up from the ground with more power than he'd known he had left. As he rose, he brought his arm around, and he flung the whiskey bottle as hard as he could. It slammed into a tree on the edge of the clearing and shattered into a million pieces, raining 2to the ground in a shower of glass and amber liquid.
Silence fell around them. Johnny's shoulders heaved, and his hands shook. He closed his eyes and let his head fall forward. What the hell was he supposed to do? What did Daniel expect him to do? What did he want?
What did Daniel –?
And Johnny realized that of all the questions he'd asked that day – most of them stupid – he hadn't asked the most important one. He opened his eyes, turned his head slightly, and looked at Daniel over his shoulder.
"What do you wanna do, Daniel?"
Daniel didn't answer, but he looked up with surprise on his face. It had never occurred to him that Johnny might ask him that.
He hadn't asked because he hadn't seen a reason. He thought he knew the answer. He'd just assumed he and Daniel wanted the same thing – to get off the mountain. He'd taken charge, and he'd given Daniel no choice in the matter. He hadn't wanted him to realize he had one. He'd forced him to keep moving despite the pain, the exhaustion, the fever. He'd yelled at him, berated him, done everything he could to make him keep going. He'd forced him to do what he wanted him to do.
And he'd not once asked him if he wanted to do any of it.
'You're right. I am a selfish bastard.'
He didn't answer himself that time. There was no need.
"What I wanna do?" Daniel said softly. "Doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does." Johnny spun to face him. "It matters. I've been dragging your ass all over this mountain, and I never asked you, and I should have, and I'm sorry, but …" He bent his knees and crouched at Daniel's side. "It matters, Daniel. It really does," he said. "Tell me what you wanna do, and whatever it is … that's what we'll do."
"Really?" There was more than a healthy dose of disbelief in Daniel's voice.
"Yeah." He smirked, tipped his head and shrugged. "It's your life, right? You should at least get a say in how it …" He couldn't make himself finish that sentence, and he couldn't look Daniel in the eye anymore. He looked away and stared at his own hands instead. "It's your life," he said again. "It should be your decision."
Silence fell around them while Daniel considered his answer. Johnny pressed his lips together to keep himself from speaking. Part of him – a large part of him – knew that he needed to not only hear the words that were coming; he'd need to remember them. He might need to repeat them to a few people in the next few days. The rest of him didn't want to hear them at all.
"Don't wanna die," Daniel finally said.
It was the first time either of them had said the word out loud to the other. It was right that it had come from Daniel. It was even better that it was a denial.
"So don't."
Daniel just looked at him. The pain and fear on his face were undeniable. But there was something else there, too. Something in his eyes. Something just beneath the surface. Something Johnny knew very well. Something he'd seen a hundred times since they'd met. Something that had been missing for hours.
The spark in Daniel's eyes was back where it belonged.
"Keep fighting, Daniel," he said. "I know you can. You've made it this far. You've only gotta go a little further."
The spark flashed into an ember; the ember ignited a single flame. But almost as soon as it flared to life, it burned out. Daniel sank back into the sleeping bags. "I want to," he breathed. "I can't. I'm so tired."
Johnny nodded. "I know you are. But when have you ever given up? You …" He swallowed hard and pointed at him. "You don't know when to stop. You don't know how to stop. You never have. So, if you wanna live, then you grab it, and you hold on, and you fight like hell."
That single flame had rekindled, and as Johnny watched, more flames roared up to join it. The defeated expression fell from his face. The pain wasn't gone, but the fear was. In its place were anger and determination. The small fire Johnny had lit blazed in Daniel's eyes, but Johnny couldn't make it stay there. It was up to Daniel to keep it burning.
"You just gotta know what you're fighting for."
"The kids." The words were raspy, as all Daniel's words had been for entirely too long, slow and slurred again, from both exhaustion and alcohol, and punctuated with harsh, ragged breaths. But they weren't hesitant. They weren't indifferent. "Robby. Miguel." They weren't resigned. They were defiant. "Sam and Anthony. Amanda." He cracked a half-grin. "And now, I guess. You."
A lump formed in the back of Johnny's throat, and he did his best to swallow it.
"What else?" he prompted. There was one name missing from that list. The most important one. "Who else are you fighting for?"
Daniel took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and looked Johnny straight in the eye.
"Me."
Johnny tilted his head. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Daniel took a deep breath. "Voglio vivere."
Johnny shook his head. "I don't speak Italian, LaRusso."
"Neither do I. But I know that one. Means I wanna live." He bit his lip and shrugged. "I wanna live."
Johnny nodded. "That's a good place to start."
"I wanna go home." The words were taking a lot out of him, but at the same time, they seemed to be making him stronger. That fire in his eyes was blazing as brightly as it ever had.
That was the Daniel LaRusso he'd met on that beach.
"I just wanna go home."
Johnny smiled.
"Okay, then." Maybe it was a desperate, eleventh hour wish. Maybe it wasn't going to work. Maybe the fire wouldn't be enough. Maybe it would burn out again. Maybe Daniel's body was done.
But the rest of him sure as hell wasn't.
"Let's go home, Daniel." He reached his hand out, and his smile widened when Daniel reached back. They grasped each other's arms tightly. Johnny carefully pulled Daniel to his feet, helped him steady himself, and then squeezed his arm in both reassurance and determination.
"Let's go home."
He'd failed.
He'd done everything he'd been hired to do. He'd done everything he'd been told to do. He'd done everything he'd been trained to do.
But he'd obviously done it all wrong because he'd failed.
He was supposed to be spending the morning with Mr. Silver and Sensei Kreese. He was meant to be celebrating their victory and planning the opening of the first of the new Cobra Kai dojos. He should have been preparing for life as a rich man, splitting his time between teaching karate and winning tournaments all over the world.
Instead, he was sneaking out of Mr. Silver's mansion in the predawn darkness, tiptoeing down the marble hallways silently, hoping no one would be awake to catch him.
He tried not to dwell on how much everything had changed in the past twenty-four hours, tried not to waste time wondering how his plans had gone so wrong so fast. But he couldn't stop himself.
Mr. Silver's letter had surprised him, and the offer had seemed too good to be true. He'd decided to accept before he'd finished reading it. Someone he'd never heard of was willing to give him a chance at a new life, and he hadn't hesitated to jump on it. When he'd gotten on that plane in August, he'd told himself he'd never return. He'd promised himself he was leaving it all behind. He'd sworn to himself he'd never go back. Seattle could rot for all he cared, and it could take the pain and darkness of the first seventeen years of his life with it.
But he'd failed at that, too.
He was going back, and he was doing it as a failure with his tail between his legs. Back to the place that had shattered his world. Back to the city that had ruined his life. Back to the big yellow house that echoed with distant memories that constantly reminded him how alone he was.
"Going somewhere, Mr. Barnes?"
He closed his eyes and let his head fall forward. He'd failed again.
"Mr. Barnes?" The tone of the voice told him he'd not be given another chance to respond.
"Home." The word was more croaked than spoken. His neck and throat were still raw and bruised from Sensei Kreese's … punishment. He shook his head without opening his eyes. "I'm going home."
"Home?" He still couldn't see the man, but he could both hear and feel him moving closer. "Home to where? To whom?"
"My house," he whispered. "My parents."
"Your parents?" The laughter that followed those words got his eyes open. "You're going home to your dead parents? Are you planning to live at the cemetery? Or in that empty house of yours?"
He wanted to turn and face him, but he couldn't make himself do it. All he could do was stare down the hallway and try to talk his way out of telling the truth. "I don't …" He coughed to clear the lump that blocked his throat. "I don't know what …"
"How old were you when your mother died, Mr. Barnes? Four? Five? Breast cancer, wasn't it? The doctors could have saved her, I'm sure, if your father had paid them enough. But he couldn't, so they didn't even try.'
Mike said nothing; he only dropped his head again.
"And your father. He was all you had left. And he gave you so much. The karate was his idea, wasn't it? It was what you did together." Mike didn't move or respond. Mr. Silver shouldn't have known that. No one knew that. "There really is no love like a father for his son, is there? And then there was that terrible accident in March." Mike swallowed hard. "Well, they said it was an accident, but you know better, don't you? That was no accident. A drunk murdered your father with a car, and he wasn't even hurt. He was never arrested for it. Have you ever seen his face? Do you even know his name?"
Mike shook his head slowly.
"It's not fair, Mr. Barnes." He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he wanted to pull away, but he couldn't. It had been so long since he'd felt the comfort of another human's touch. He hadn't realized how badly he'd missed it, and he couldn't bring himself to end it.
"Michael."
He'd heard Mr. Silver say his name before, but never quite like that. Never with that much concern. Compassion. Warmth. He closed his eyes.
"I know everything. Your parents' deaths, your grandfather refusing to take you in, your fight to stay out of the foster system. You won your emancipation, but it cost you your childhood, didn't it? All those people – the doctors, that drunk, your grandfather, the courts – they took it away from you. You have no life left. They took it all."
"How do you …?" Mike shook his head again. Mr. Silver knew things he shouldn't have known, but what he was saying was right, and it made sense. "How do you know all that?"
"I do my research. You're seventeen years old. Did you really think I'd sign a contract with you if I wasn't absolutely certain it would be valid and binding?" The older man clicked his tongue in disappointment. "I can't believe you thought so little of me."
"No, sir," he said, shaking his head vigorously. "I didn't. I don't. I …"
Mr. Silver stepped past him, turned, and put both hands on his shoulders. He ducked his head until he caught Mike's eye, and once he had, he smiled. "Let's try this again, son," he said. "Are you going somewhere?"
"I don't know." He wasn't able to hold that intense gaze, so he dropped his head once more. "I don't know where to go. I don't have anywhere to go, but … I can't go home. I have no home. But I can't stay here, either. I failed you, and I ..."
"You didn't fail me, Michael." The hand the man placed against his cheek almost broke him, and he squeezed his eyes shut. "I failed you."
Mike jerked his head up in surprise. "Sir?"
The hand on his face moved, from his cheek to his black eye, tracing the outlines of the bruises on his face before coming to rest on the large dark mark that circled his neck. "He shouldn't have done that." As difficult as it had been to look Mr. Silver in the eye only moments before, it had become impossible for Mike to turn away. "I shouldn't have let him do that. I should have stopped him." It had been so long since he'd felt safe, cared for, protected. He was almost afraid to hope it was real. "I let you down, son. I won't do it again."
"It's okay," he mumbled. "It's really, just ... I …"
"It's not okay. It's not." Mr. Silver squeezed his shoulders. "John Kreese is gone because of what he did to you. Do you hear me? He's gone from this house, and he's gone from your life. You don't work for him anymore. You never have to answer to him again. Do you understand?"
Mike nodded slowly.
"No one deserves what you've been through, Mike. Especially not you. You didn't deserve any of it. But most importantly, you did not deserve to lose."
"But I did. I …"
Mr. Silver dropped his hands and turned away, waving his arms through the air as he spoke. "You lost because of a stupid strategy in a stupid game that I let Kreese play with you. I believed him when he said we couldn't lose." He turned back around, and Mike could see the sincerity and guilt in his eyes. "I wanted only the best for you, son. I swear. I was only thinking of your future, and when he told me he had a guaranteed way to win, I …" Mr. Silver dropped his head and sighed.
"If he'd just let you score, you'd have won. None of this would be happening, and we'd all be very wealthy men. But, no. He couldn't let it be that simple. Because he cared more about revenge than he did about winning. All he wanted, all he cared about, was hurting Daniel LaRusso and that old man. He got so wrapped up in them that he forgot everything else. He didn't see what was possible." Mr. Silver waved his arms in a wide arc. "What would the future have been like, Michael, if we'd kept our Daanny with us? What if he hadn't left us?"
Mike shook his head. That didn't make sense. "But, wasn't he supposed to .. he was never one of us. The whole point was to …"
"That was Kreese's plan," Mr. Silver interrupted. "But he was wrong. Daniel LaRusso was Cobra Kai, and he should have stayed that way. He betrayed us, Mike. And John Kreese let him do it."
Mike nodded quickly. Mr. Silver had to be right, didn't he? Maybe he hadn't understood the whole plan. Maybe he'd never been told what it was.
"Cobra Kai never dies, Mr. Barnes. Once it's in you, it becomes you. It's part of you. No one who's worn the snake can ever escape it. It will always be part of who you are. Don't you agree? Haven't you learned that from your short time with us?"
That was absolutely true, and he had learned that much. Mike nodded once more. "Yes, sir."
"I have two goals, Mike. The first is to make sure that you never lose again. At anything. Does that sound good?"
"Yes, sir." Mike couldn't stop the small smile that started to form at the edges of his lips.
"The second is to make certain Daniel regrets what he's done."
The smile grew wider, spreading across his face as the meaning of those words began to sink in. "That sounds like a great plan, sir."
"Never accept defeat, Mr. Barnes. It's the Cobra Kai mantra. It's how you and I are going to live our lives from this moment on. Do you understand?'
"Yes, sir."
"It's not going to happen overnight. It's going to take time. You're going to have to lay low, hold back, hedge your bets. Prepare. We will work, we will train, and we will plan. But never lose sight of where you're going. And never forget where you've been."
"No, sir."
Mr. Silver tipped his head with a smile as he reached one hand behind his back. When he pulled it back to the front, there was a knife in it. It was amazing, unlike any knife he'd ever seen – with a leather handle and a dark red blade – and Mike stared at it in open wonder.
"Do you know what this is?"
"No," he answered softly, still entranced by it.
"This is a MACV-SOG. red blade. This is the knife of the Fifth Special Forces Group." Mr. Silver looked at the knife fondly. "She's beautiful, isn't she? I lost count of how many times she saved my life in Vietnam. I'd always hoped to give her to my son one day, but …"
Mike's heart nearly stopped when Mr. Silver took his right hand in his, turned it over, and placed the knife in it.
"You have a home here, Michael. You have a family. For as long as you want it."
There were no words he could think to say, and he wouldn't have been able to form them even if he had. All he could do was stare at the knife in his hand.
"This is who you are now, son. This is what Dannyboy could have had, if he hadn't walked away. But instead, he destroyed your life. He took everything from you. Never forget how he betrayed us."
"Never." It was a vow made from the very depths of his soul. "I'll stay," he whispered. "I'll stay with you."
Mr. Silver smiled one last time.
"Then I'll teach you how to make the little bastard pay."
He didn't take many walks down memory lane. There weren't many worth revisiting. But that day, that morning, that moment. That was where he'd truly begun to live.
Mr. Silver giving him the knife. Calling him son. Taking him in as his own. The day after his life had been destroyed for the third time. The morning after he'd lost everything again. Hours after he'd watched his future be stolen from him on a red karate mat.
He'd found a home. He'd found his purpose. He'd started over. And finally, after decades of biding his time, laying low, holding back, hedging his bets and preparing, he'd reached his goal. He'd never lost sight of it. He'd never forgotten who'd destroyed his life. He'd never abandoned his duty to hold Daniel LaRusso accountable for his betrayal.
He'd been weak at the camp. He'd allowed himself to feel. He'd allowed Daniel LaRusso to make him feel. He'd abandoned himself to it too easily, and he'd allowed it to distract him.
"I've got him, Sensei," he whispered to the sky. "I'll finish what we started. I won't fail you again."
He smiled as he leaned against the hood of the red car, and he started to hum.
"Come on, Daniel," Johnny urged. "Just a little more."
Daniel had started out stronger than Johnny had expected, but it hadn't lasted long. What little strength he had left was flagging, and though he was able to control his left leg at last, he couldn't lift either of his feet. He was shuffling more than he was walking, but he was still moving.
"We're almost there. I promise. Almost there."
He wasn't lying. He could see the trees that edged the spot where he'd parked. He maneuvered them around the pile of sticks and leaves in the middle of the path, pulling Daniel back against him when the other man faltered.
"You got this, Daniel. We got this. We're gonna make it."
"Oh, Dannyboy!"
Johnny snapped his head up and around. Daniel froze.
Singing? The crazy motherfucker was singing!
"Your death, your death is calling."
It was coming from everywhere. It was bouncing and echoing and drifting through the trees all around them. They turned their heads quickly, looking behind them, in front of them, even above them. Johnny had no idea how far away it was. It could have been ten feet, or it could have been a mile.
"Where is he?" Daniel whispered.
"I don't care!" Johnny forced the words through his teeth. "Keep moving." He pulled on Daniel's arm harder than he should have, but there was no other way to get him to move. "Car is right there. You see it?"
Daniel nodded; he saw it.
Johnny saw it, too. The sun reflecting off the red paint of the Challenger and shining through the gaps in the trees was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid his eyes on. "It's right there."
"From tree to tree, and down the mountainside."
"He's here." Daniel stopped again, and he tried to pull away. "You hafta leave. Now."
"I'm not leaving you here, Daniel!" He wrapped both arms around Daniel's waist and dragged him forward. "We already had this conversation three times!"
"You know you're done, and soon you will be falling."
"Johnny?" Daniel's voice was shaking as hard as the rest of him was. "You gotta get outta here. The kids!"
"Move your ass, LaRusso! Stop arguing and move!"
He refused to accept anything else. He didn't care what he had to do. He'd throw Daniel over his shoulder if he had to. But he would not leave him behind.
"It's you! You must go!"
"I can't!" Daniel gasped out. "Please, Johnny. I can't. Go!"
"Yes, you can! You will. We will. We're right fuckin' there!"
The car was less than ten feet away. There was just one stand of trees to clear. They were going to make it. They were getting off that mountain.
"And I will win."
A figure stepped out from behind the trees.
Johnny looked up and growled. Daniel closed his eyes and shuddered.
He had another knife in his hand – a bigger one, with a leather handle and a dark red blade – and he was tapping it against his own cheek. The smile on his face, and the look in his eyes, said that as far as he was concerned, his fun was just beginning.
Mike Barnes was standing between them and their way home.
"Well, hello there, Daniel."
"We don't know anything about this guy."
The SUV sped along the highway as the conversation inside it continued. Everyone was willing to take part in the plan, but there was no plan to speak of. They couldn't come up with one that they all agreed on. Robby and Miguel had tried explaining what they'd come up with, but no one else agreed with them. Sam insisted they could only do it her way, Hawk was growing increasingly angry in the back seat, Kev wasn't saying much of anything, and Aisha had started pointing out all the ways they could fail.
Robby and Miguel looked at each other in frustration without saying a word.
"We don't need to."
"Of course, we do. We don't even know who he is."
"We can figure that out later. All we need to do is — "
"We need to stop throwing out reckless ideas we can't use. We're going to have to — "
"Look, I know this mountain. I know where we should — "
"How do you know anything? You haven't been there today!"
"We don't know where he is."
"We don't know where they are either!"
"We have to have something better than, 'We're gonna do this'."
"When we get there, I'll — "
"We have to split — "
"We don't know — "
"Quiet!"
Miguel pressed the heels of his hands against his temples and closed his eyes. "Everyone just shut the hell up for one damn minute." He was both surprised and relieved when everyone did as he'd asked. He gave himself a few moments to take several long, deep breaths before he dropped his arms, opened his eyes, and turned toward the back of the car again.
"Robby and I already had this all planned out, guys. We've had a few hours to work on it. We only figured on four people, yeah, but we can do it with six. The important thing is that we all stay together. Once we get there, we'll — "
Hawk leaned forward in his seat and pointed at Miguel across Sam's and Aisha's shoulders. "Staying together is the dumbest thing we could do."
"Hawk …" Miguel shook his head angrily.
"No. Miguel, listen to me. Everyone, listen to me!" Everyone did. Even Robby glanced at him in the mirror. "We need to work a search grid, and we've got a large surface area to cover. We can't dump all our assets into the same part of the system. We have to balance the equation."
"What?" Miguel asked.
"It's a math problem. It's basic calculus," Hawk replied with a shrug. "That's kinda my thing."
Miguel tilted his head. "Okay. Go on."
Hawk took a deep breath and rested his elbows on the back of the girls' seat. Sam and Aisha turned to face him, and Kev moved forward next to him.
"We're looking for at least two unknown points in space – one is Sensei and Mr. LaRusso, assuming they're still together. The other is this 'Mike.' Both are located on the same large, but finite, plane: the mountain. Now, we can try picking points at random and hope we hit on them, but odds are we won't. The chance of them being somewhere we can see them when we get there is so low it's statistically irrelevant. We need to spread our resources out so we cover as much ground as we can as logically and as quickly as possible. We have to split up, but we can't get very far apart. We can't take the chance of them slipping between us."
"What do you suggest?" Aisha asked.
"We pick two points of origin, one at either end of our first search area, we split into two groups, and those three people stay in visual range of each other at all times. Then we work toward each other, clear the area between us. If we haven't found them by the time we meet up, then we shift the whole grid to the side and do it again."
"What two points?" Robby asked.
"The first is the easiest," Hawk answered. "The last place you saw them."
Robby and Miguel both nodded. "We know right where that is," Miguel said.
"What's the other?" Kev's voice hadn't been one of the louder ones, but they'd all heard it enough that it no longer surprised them.
Hawk turned toward him. "The most logical place for them to go, based on the direction they were headed when they left. Since Mr. LaRusso left first, we should assume wherever they went is somewhere he knows really well."
Sam shrugged. "That's the whole mountain." She turned to Miguel and Robby. "They left from a clearing near the camp, right? Which way did they go?"
"Up," Miguel answered. "Mr. LaRusso and Mike went into the woods like they were going up the mountain. Sensei went after them."
"Up the mountain from the camp?" Sam asked. She looked at Robby in the mirror. "Would he?"
Robby nodded firmly. "Oh, hell yeah, he would."
"What?" Aisha asked, looking back and forth between them. "Hell yeah he'd what?"
"The tree," they answered in unison. No one else understood what they were talking about. Robby clarified. "There's an old fallen-down tree up there. It's pretty important to him. If we assume he was going somewhere he's familiar with, there's a good chance that's where he'd go."
Five heads bobbed in agreement and understanding. "Okay," Miguel said. "So one group goes to the clearing they left from, and the other heads straight for the tree. Robby and I will –"
"No," Hawk said, shaking his head. "You and Robby won't do anything. You can't be in the same group."
"Why not?" Miguel demanded. "We're the two who know where we were!"
Hawk nodded at that. "And that's exactly why you have to split up. Resource management. One person in each group has to know the location of both starting points. You and Robby know where you were. Sam and Robby both know where the tree is. So –"
"I can't be with either of them." Robby pressed his lips together tightly, obviously not happy with that idea but also unable to argue with the logic of it.
"It makes a lot of sense," Kev pointed out.
"How do the rest of us split, then?" Aisha turned toward Hawk again. "Robby's in one group, Sam and Miguel are in the other."
Miguel glanced at Sam quickly, and he caught her looking at him. Neither of them were any happier about that arrangement than Robby was, but they couldn't argue with it, either.
"The rest of the split is based on fighting style and experience," Hawk said. "We need it as even as possible. That means Kev goes with Miguel and Sam. And Aisha, that puts you with Robby and …" He looked forward, caught Robby's eye in the rearview, and tipped his head slightly. "Me."
Robby didn't hold his gaze for very long. There was no need to. He nodded once before turning his eyes back to the road.
"So that's it?" Miguel asked. "That's the plan?"
"That's the plan," Hawk echoed.
"Yeah," Sam agreed reluctantly. "That's it."
Kev nodded his silent agreement.
"I know we're looking for Mr. LaRusso and Sensei," Aisha said. "But what do we do if we run into this Mike instead? Hide from him?"
"Hell no," Miguel answered. He turned forward in his seat, leaned heavily against the back, and stared out the window "We run into Mike, we kick his fucking ass."
"Fuck you!" Johnny grabbed Daniel's wrist again and pulled him as tightly against his side as he could. "What the fuck is wrong with you!"
"With me?" The fake innocence, the arrogance, the absolute batshit crazy in that voice, made Johnny's skin crawl. "There's nothing wrong with me. Now, Dannyboy, there …" Mike pointed the knife at him.
Daniel's head was down, and his eyes were closed. His chest was heaving, and he was trembling. He was whispering something, muttering to himself like he'd done on the cliff. Johnny tried to catch what he was saying, but … that wasn't English. What the hell? Was that … was he praying? In Japanese?
Mike twirled the knife in his hand, then aimed the blade at Daniel's face, lowered his eyebrows and looked at him like he was inspecting a slab of meat. "He doesn't look so good, does he?"
Johnny clenched his teeth and turned slightly, putting Daniel as far behind him as he could without letting go of him.
"You don't look so hot yourself, there, Blondie. Had a rough day?"
He was going to punch that stupid smirk right through the back of that bastard's skull. He didn't know how he was going to do it, but he knew he was.
"You do know what's happening to him, don't you?" Mike tipped his head to the side. "You know he's dying. You won't admit it, but you know. You've known the whole time. He absolutely knows. And he tried to tell you. But you … you told him to shut up."
How the hell did he know that?
"You wouldn't listen. You wouldn't even let him say it. And you still won't admit it. And that's got me curious." Mike took a step forward.
Johnny let go of Daniel's belt and moved his arm from behind him to in front. He tightened his hold on his wrist, stepped to his right, and pushed Daniel all the way behind him. He kept his right arm slightly out and to his side, as if he could physically hold Mike back. Daniel's left arm was draped across his shoulder, and his head was resting against the back of his neck. He could hear him more clearly, but it didn't matter because he still had no idea what he was saying. Whatever it was, he was completely focused on repeating it.
Mike took another step forward, and Johnny stepped back.
"See, the old man, he told me you wouldn't care."
Johnny's blood froze. The old man? No. No, he wouldn't have gone that far, would he? But, then again, he'd tried to kill him when he was seventeen. He'd brainwashed and tortured and done God-knew-what-else to Daniel when he was sixteen. If he'd do things like that to teenagers, what the hell would stop him from doing worse to grown men?
"He said you weren't a hero. That you wouldn't get involved. That you hate Daniel LaRusso almost as much as I do. That you'd never risk yourself to save him."
Johnny swallowed hard. "Yeah, well," he bit out. "The old man was wrong."
"I see that," Mike said. "Oh, I see that. But I'm not mad. No, not mad at all. Actually, it makes me happy. Because he gave me one rule to follow. Just one." Mike spun the knife around in his hand, then flipped it up and out, and pointed the blade at Johnny. "He told me not to hurt you. Said you were important. That you're everything to him." Was that jealousy? It sure sounded like it. Whatever it was, those words were dripping with it. "The future of Cobra Kai."
He'd been right about Kreese, about what he wanted and why he'd come back. He wanted to rule the Valley again. He wanted Johnny's kids. He wanted Miguel. He wanted Robby. He wanted to warp their minds and control them, the way he'd done to him. Break their spirits the way he'd broken Bobby's, and Tommy's, and Jimmy's, and Dutch's. Destroy everything they were and twist their souls, like he'd done to Daniel.
He'd really thought he could send someone to kill Daniel, and Johnny would be fine with it. He'd thought Johnny would walk away. That he wouldn't fight. That he'd just turn his back and let Daniel die.
In Kreese's mind, the only person standing between him and what he wanted was Daniel LaRusso. That had to be what was going on. It was the only thing that made sense. Kreese thought if he removed Daniel from the equation, he would win. That had to mean Kreese thought he would lose if Daniel survived. And that made saving Daniel the single most important thing Johnny had ever done. He would not – could not – fail.
"But, the way I see it, you're as much a traitor as Daniel is. You've betrayed the old man. You've betrayed Cobra Kai. You're protecting our enemy." Mike scoffed. "And to think, he sent me here to save you."
"Save me?" He shouldn't be playing into the man's insanity, but he didn't understand. "Save me from what?"
"From him," Mike answered, thrusting his chin at Daniel. "From being corrupted by him. Forgetting who and what you are. Losing yourself because of him." Mike sneered at that. "But you already did. You've made your choice, and it's the wrong one. And because you did that …" Mike stepped forward again, but Johnny couldn't move. "That whole thing about me not hurting you?"
Daniel was pressed against his back, and there was nowhere else to go.
"I can ignore it."
He tightened his grip on Daniel's wrist and pressed his right arm against him. He may have been imagining it, but Daniel seemed to be getting stronger. Johnny let the unfamiliar words being whispered in his ear wash across him, and even though he didn't understand them, he felt them. Whatever he was doing, whatever he was saying, the fact that he was still talking meant Daniel was still fighting. And if Daniel could fight, then he could, too.
Johnny planted his feet, squared his shoulders, and looked Mike right in the eye.
"Good for you, then," he said. "Because if you want him, you're gonna have to go through me."
"Good for me, then." Mike mimicked both his words and his tone. "Because that sounds fun."
He moved so fast Johnny didn't have time to get them out of the way. He didn't have time to dodge. He didn't have time to think. Before his mind had even grasped the idea that a fight was starting, he'd been pulled away from Daniel and thrown to the side. His back slammed into a tree, stealing his breath and almost taking his legs out from under him. Mike buried his right foot in Daniel's chest.
Daniel crumpled to the ground in a boneless heap. He didn't scream. He didn't cry out. He didn't even moan. He just collapsed in the dirt.
"This is going to be too easy. Like killing a dying fish in an empty barrel." Mike sounded disappointed by that. "Oh, well." He glanced at Johnny over his shoulder, shrugged, and winked. "Doesn't mean I won't enjoy it. I'll be right with ya, Blondie," he said. "Just got this one little thing to finish first."
He held the knife up, smiled, and licked the blade. Then he flipped it around in his hand and leaned down over Daniel.
"No!"
Using the tree at his back as a springboard, Johnny charged forward. The only thought in his mind was keeping Mike and that knife away from Daniel. He didn't feel it when he buried his shoulder in Mike's ribs. He didn't see the knife fly out of Mike's hand. He didn't care where it landed. They hit the dirt ten feet from Daniel, and Johnny got to his knees. He'd executed the tackle perfectly. He was the one in control. Mike was on his back on the ground, and his face was right in front of him.
Johnny started punching that stupid smirk through the back of the bastard's skull.
"Jinshin wa tenchi ni onaji. Ketsumyaku wa nichigetsu ni nitari. Ho wa goju wo tondo su. Mi wa toki ni shitagai hen ni ozu. Te wa ku ni ai sunawachi hairu. Shintai wa hakarite riho su. Mewa shiho wo miru wa yosu. Mimi wa yoku happo wo kiku."
He didn't understand. He'd been saying the words, and the angel had heard them, but he hadn't acted on them. He'd spoken louder, but the angel hadn't responded. He'd known they needed the words, but the angel had been distracted. He'd been afraid, but he wasn't alone. The angel was with him. He'd been safe. The angel's arms had wrapped around him and kept him that way. The angel's wings had spread out and hidden him from the danger. The demon arrived. The angel disappeared. Something happened to his chest. It hurt. He fell to the ground. The breath froze in his lungs.
Everything else stopped.
'Daniel-san.'
He didn't want to move. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to breathe. He didn't want to exist.
'Time get up.'
'I can't. It hurts. And I'm so tired.'
They were fighting. The angel and the demon. Not far away. He could hear them. The angel had the upper hand. That was nice. He hoped he won.
'So tired.'
'Daniel-san, must focus.'
'I can't.'
'You friend need you.'
'My friend? My … oh. The angel.'
'No. No angel. You friend.'
No angel. There was no angel. There was a halo, but no angel. There was a man. That man could fly, but he didn't have wings. There was …
'Johnny.'
Johnny was hurt. Johnny was fighting. Johnny was why he'd started saying the words. So he could help him. Protect him. Save him. He had to save Johnny. So Johnny could save their kids.
Johnny was … Johnny had a halo. From the sun. But no wings. He'd jumped off the cliff. He couldn't fly. Johnny was the angel? His guardian angel. His big damn hero.
Johnny was trying to save him. He couldn't be saved, but … Johnny was trying. To help him. To protect him. To save him. From the demon. The angel had a name. His name was Johnny. The demon had a name, too. The demon … the demon was …
'Daniel-san. Clear mind. Concentrate.'
'I … I'm trying. I can't.'
'You hear Kempo Hakku?'
'Yes.'
The words. Those were the words. They meant something. They told him something. He needed them to tell him what to do.
'You speak Kempo Hakku?"
'Yes.'
His lips were still moving. They hadn't stopped. He needed the words.
'You be Kempo Hakku.'
'I … I can't.'
That was what he'd been trying to do. To be it. To achieve it. To let it move him. But he hadn't been able to. Not alone. He couldn't do it alone.
'You can. You not alone, Daniel-san. No more alone.'
'I'm not? I'm … no, I'm not.'
He'd never been alone. The angel … Johnny. Johnny was there. He'd been there all along. He'd been at his side. Right there with him. Through everything. The whole time. But Johnny was busy. Fighting the demon. Mike.
Johnny was fighting Mike.
Daniel had gone somewhere else. Somewhere alone. Somewhere neither of them could find him, and nothing could touch him.
'We begin. As with all things. Breathe in. Breathe out. Ho wa goju wo tondo su.'
'I breathe as all things in the universe. Inhale and exhale, soft and hard.'
'Remember. Again.'
His body was speaking words that his ears could hear. His mind was filled with words spoken by someone else's lips, spoken in someone else's voice.
'Mimi wa yoku happo wo kiku.'
'I hear in all eight directions. I hear what cannot be heard.'
'Say again.'
His lips moved as his sensei commanded. As they always did. He'd never understood the poem. He'd never enjoyed the lessons about it. He'd never imagined he could use it. But he could hear the unhearable. A voice he'd not heard in so long it made his heart ache to hear it again.
'Mewa shiho wo miru wa yosu.'
'I see in all four directions. I see what cannot be seen.'
He saw as though his eyes were open, but he didn't open them. He saw the man – his teacher, his mentor, his friend, his father – standing in front of him. He could see the unseeable. A face he'd not seen in so long he'd thought he'd never see it again.
'Ketsumyaku wa nichigetsu ni nitari.'
'My blood flows through me, as the cycle of the sun and the moon.'
The fight still raged nearby. He would join it. He knew he would. He had to. He was needed. But his body was still on the ground.
He didn't have the strength to stand.
'Jinshin wa tenchi ni onaji.'
'My mind is one with Heaven and Earth.'
'Say again.'
He did. He said it, and he heard it. He'd never stopped. He repeated the words that he'd spoken so many times, but that he'd never truly felt the power of before.
He saw and heard and felt the fight. Every strike, every kick, every block. The blood running down their faces. Their battle for his life. For his soul. The turning of the tide. Advantage going to the demon against the injured angel.
'Johnny!'
He tried to force himself up from the ground, but he couldn't move. His heart was heavy. His soul was tearing. His body wasn't ready. His mind wasn't ready.
'Daniel-san! Focus! Say again!'
He relaxed his muscles. He slowed his breathing. He felt his heartbeat slowing. He said the words again.
'Mi wa toki ni shitagai hen ni ozu.'
'I adapt my mind and body to the change of time and circumstance.'
His fingers spread open against the ground. He felt them move, but he didn't move them. He watched himself – from inside, from above, from outside and from far away.
'You best karate still inside. Te wa ku ni ai sunawachi hairu.'
'My body will rise to meet the challenge only in the absence of conscious thought.'
'Say again.'
He felt everything and nothing. He heard everything and nothing. He floated above himself like a puppeteer pulling his own strings, but his body didn't respond.
'You understand?'
'I understand.'
'You ready?'
'I'm afraid.'
There was no turning back. There was no coming back. Once he'd done what he'd set out to do, Daniel LaRusso would cease to exist. But it didn't matter. Daniel didn't matter. Johnny mattered. Johnny had to survive. Johnny had to save their kids. From everything and everyone who wished to hurt them. The way Johnny had been hurt. The way he had been hurt.
It would never happen again.
Daniel only had one task. He only had one goal. He only had one thing left to do. He was going to save Johnny.
It would be the last thing he did.
'Do not be afraid, Daniel-san. Miyagi with you.'
He opened his eyes and lifted his head.
'Miyagi always with you.'
'I failed you. I'm sorry.'
'You never fail me. Miyagi proud of you. Proud of boy you were. And man you become.'
One tear, unfelt and unbidden, rolled down his cheek.
'You ready?'
'I'm ready.'
'Go. Be Kempo Hakku. Save you friend.'
Everything else floated away. His hands pressed against the ground, and his arms pushed his body to its knees. His feet moved into position, his right under him and his left behind. His spine and knees straightened, his shoulders pushed back, and his head rose. He watched himself move, felt himself move, and heard himself move. His body did it all of its own accord. He was no longer in command.
The pain was gone. The fever was gone. The confusion and fear and exhaustion were gone. His mind was clear. His thoughts were focused. His soul was free.
He was Kempo Hakku.
'Remember, Daniel-san. Shintai wa hakarite riho su.'
'I send my mind and soul to the heavens so my feet can move swiftly on the earth.'
Johnny stepped in for another attack. Mike countered.
Daniel stepped forward.
'Again.'
'As my feet advance, my mind must retreat. My soul and body must part before my opponent and I meet.'
Mike moved in. A palm heel strike to the base of Johnny's left collarbone.
He took two more steps forward.
'Again.'
'Feet advance, mind retreat. Soul and body part, opponent and I meet.'
Johnny cried out and went down.
'Again.'
'Advance and retreat. Part and meet.'
Mike lifted his knife in the air.
'Daniel-san.'
'Advance and retreat. Part and meet.'
Johnny threw his right arm up in front of his face.
'Miyagi wait for you.'
'Advance and retreat. Part and meet.'
His body stepped between them. His wrists crossed, and his arms went up. Mike's right hand, and the knife it held, was trapped. Six inches above his head. And it wasn't moving.
Daniel felt nothing when he watched himself smile.
"Well, hello there, Mike."