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“Damn it, Robby,” Johnny slapped the wall. “She’s just a babe! Why do you two keep fighting over a babe?”
“We’re not fighting over a fucking girl!” Robby shouted, pulling at his hair. Then, he began to laugh, and it was the most goddammed terrifying thing Johnny had ever seen. The laugh started low, deep in his son’s core, then rose with a cobra’s fury. By the end, Robby was shaking, all humor, all hope, gone from his eyes.
The teen leaned against the wall, laughing on, even as he slunk towards the cement. “We’re not fighting over a fucking girl, Dad. It was never about Sam. It was about you. Me and Miguel—we’re fighting over you.”
Johnny had no idea what the symptoms of a heart attack were. When his heart stopped, though, he knew something was wrong. Suddenly, it was impossible to breathe.
A man can’t breathe, he can’t fight.
Johnny had no idea where he’d heard that, but it sounded like Kreese, even in Johnny’s own head. Worst of all, it was true. Like too many of the damn things John Kreese said, it was true. Johnny couldn’t breathe, and all the fight left him.
He slumped to the ground, right next to his son.
“I saw you hug Miguel,” Robby confessed, but Johnny had no idea what the boy meant. When had he hugged Miguel? More than once, too many times to count. Johnny wasn’t a hugger, but with Miguel it was just… different. Easier.
“So I went to Mr. LaRusso. To spite you, at first— and then so I could beat the shit out of Miguel in the tournament. Make you remember who was really your son. And from there it just… it spiraled.”
That had to be the understatement of the century. A coma and a prison sentence—one hell of a spiral.
“I didn’t mean to kick him over the railing. I didn’t. But I did… I did mean to kick him. And not because of Sam. I didn’t give a shit if Sam had kissed him. All I could see was him hugging you, and I hated him for it. I still hate him for it.” Robby’s Adam’s apple bobbed and tightened with each word. Johnny could only watch, like watching an opponent fall once the final blow has landed.
A choking sob broke though Robby’s lips, and Johnny didn’t even consider calling his son a pansy. Looking at him, broken like this, made Johnny remember one of his earliest karate lessons—bricks were strong, but you could still break them.
“And then you stayed at the hospital. With him. Always with him.”
Robby looked at his father, eyes wet, face contorted, and it was the most agonizing thing Johnny had ever seen, “You never loved me—why do you love him?”
Johnny pulled Robby into his arms, and, for once, his son didn’t fight. He just sobbed, like the little baby Johnny had always shied away from. But this time, Johnny held him close.
But not to comfort Robby, not really. Just because, if Robby had looked up, he would have see the answer written all over his father’s face—I don’t know, son, but I do.
“LaRusso—you have two kids.”
Daniel laughed, “That’s an astute observation, Johnny, well done.”
Immediately, Daniel realized he’d made the wrong choice. This wasn’t Johnny Lawrence, lifelong frenemy. This was Johnny Lawrence, the guy Danny had kicked in the face and left at the mercy of John Kreese. In fact, he’d looked less like crap after that. “What’s wrong?”
Johnny, to no one’s surprise, didn’t answer. Instead, he popped a beer. Daniel frowned. Johnny had been better, lately, since they’d gotten Robby away from Kreese. Daniel didn’t need him slipping, though. Too many of the kids—their shared kids now—depended on Johnny. Daniel’s job was to prop him back up on his pedestal, for their sake.
“But Sam—you love her more, don’t you?”
Daniel sputtered, looking around even though he knew the kids were at school. Still, the last thing Daniel needed was anyone hearing Johnny say that, especially so matter-of-factly. “I do not. I love both my children equally.”
“Yeah, but Anthony’s a little asshole. The only reason he doesn’t wail on little shits from Jersey is because he can’t throw a punch.
Daniel’s jaw clenched. He and Johnny had come a long way, but it was so easy to fall back into hatred. Still, he was willing to give Johnny one chance, especially because he looked like he hadn’t slept. “That’s my son you’re talking about.”
Johnny’s mouth landed in an open ‘oh’ around the bottle. Then he set it down, “Sorry…I’m an asshole too, if that makes it better.” It didn’t, and they both knew it. At least Johnny was smart enough to move on—quickly, “All I mean, is you’re nothing alike.”
Which was, frankly, true, and one of the things that made Daniel the saddest. Screw parents who said they’d never want to change their kids. People needed to change, sometimes, and Anthony was on track to be one of those people. But still, “He’s my son, I love him.”
“Sure, sure,” Johnny waved it off. “But you and Sam, you’re closer. She’s just like you, just hot.”
Daniel really, really hoped Johnny would get to the point soon.
“So you love her more, right? ‘Cause she makes it easy, whereas Anthony doesn’t. So it’s natural to love one kid more than another.”
Mentally, Daniel added another item to the (frighteningly long) list of ‘things Johnny and Daniel have in common’—they were both only children.
“No, it’s not… You don’t have to love one child more than the other. You might like one more than the other. You might have a favorite. And shoot me—Sam’s my favorite. But I don’t love her more than Anthony. It’s not like that.”
Johnny clearly didn’t understand. Daniel wasn’t sure how to explain it, though. Not really. But he could try.
“This is about Miguel and Robby, isn’t it?” Johnny didn’t look at him, which Daniel took as a ‘yes.’ So, he sighed. “Look, Johnny, you and Robby have had a rough time of it. There’s years of bad blood there…A little bit like us, actually. And—just like us—sometimes it can be hard to let go of the past. You don’t want to get angry, or hurt, you just do.”
Johnny continued to be silent, gripping the bottle tighter. Daniel continued slowly, like he was approaching a wounded animal. Because, in every way, he was, “But Miguel’s never hurt you—and you’ve never hurt him—not in the same way. So loving him is easier, because he lets you love him, and he lets himself love you back. It is like me and Sam. But just like me and Anthony, that doesn’t mean you love Robby less. He’s your son, and you’ve kept trying—in your own way—through all of this. That’s, that’s pretty impressive, Johnny.”
Daniel looked up, hoping his words had done the trick. Instead, he found Johnny tipping the rest of the beer in his mouth, and tossing the bottle against the wall in fury. “But I don’t fucking feel it. All we ever do is fight. Every time I look at him, I’m just so angry.”
“Dammit, Johnny. Love’s not a feeling,” Daniel snapped. Johnny wasn’t the only one allowed to have a temper, after all. He quickly reeled it back in, though. He didn’t need Johnny’s anger directed back at him.
“Okay, sometimes it’s a feeling, but most of the time, most of the time love is a verb. Love’s a verb, and it’s a choice. When you choose to argue with Robby instead of walk out on him—that’s love. When you fought Kreese for him—that’s love. When you come to your lifelong rival for parenting advice—that’s love. Love is… it’s not the feeling that matters. The feeling comes and goes. Love is… it’s willing the good of someone, not because you expect to get anything back, but just because you truly want that person’s good. And then it’s doing something about it.”
One moment passed, then two. Daniel held his breath, and wondered when the kids would be home, so he could give them a hug. And so Johnny could see how well both his kids were doing.
“So when I don’t like Robby, I can still love him.”
Daniel breathed a sigh of relief, smiling gently. “You can still love him. I’d even give you extra credit. When it’s twice as hard to love, it counts twice if you stay.”
Johnny reached for his beer, then remembered he’d thrown it. Looking guiltily at the shards, he said, “I’m sorry.”
Unfortunately, Daniel was used to his house being trashed. It used to be so nice, so clean, so… Encino. Now it was constantly filled with karate kids and all the hazards they posed.
And honestly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Wait, shit. Does that mean I love Robby more than Miguel?”
Though, Daniel probably could have done without the karate man-child he’d also, apparently, adopted. “Equal Johnny, equal. The extra-credit thing was a joke…When you have two kids, it’s harder to find he balance, because sometimes what’s best for them conflicts. But even if you don’t get it right, if you try, if you truly commit, you’ll have loved them enough. Which, more than anything, is what matters.”
Johnny Lawrence had been taught that ‘trying’ wasn’t enough. You either won, or you lost. Daniel just hoped that was one lesson that could be unlearned. With parenting, trying was all you could ever do.
“So, apparently, we’re brothers.”
Robby snapped his head towards Miguel, eyes bulging. “What? I thought my dad just met your mom! Fucking shit, are you serious?”
Miguel didn’t like how upset Robby was at the sheer possibility, but then, his legs always seemed to tingle more when Robby walked in the room. Especially if it was just the two of them.
Though, now that Miguel thought about it, he wasn’t sure he and Robby had ever been alone. Had they ever even spoken, just them? Miguel didn’t think so, and honestly, so many of their problems suddenly made sense.
“No, I don’t mean literally! My dad’s well… Well, he doesn’t matter. I mean adopted. Not even literally adopted. Just… Like…” Miguel deflated like a week-old balloon. Why had he picked now, this, to end the whole Robby-Miguel not talking thing.
“I heard Mrs. LaRusso calling us both ‘Johnny’s kids,’ Miguel finally admitted, which, admittedly, made Robby look less likely to throw a punch, but definitely didn’t ease the tension. “And with Sensei and my mom getting closer…Forget about it, I just thought it was funny, us, brothers.”
“Yeah, funny,” Robby dryly answered. Then, silence. Miguel found himself fidgeting, tapping his foot, as if just to remind himself he could. He was about to come up with some excuse just to leave when Robby spoke again.
“I never apologized.”
Miguel blinked, once, twice. Maybe he’d kicked Robby too hard in the head at the last tournament? “For the legs. No, no, we’re good. You did.” Multiple times, since things had settled down. Probably too many times. The sincerity of it all, it had made it impossible for Miguel to hate him.
That and the fact that—as much as he loved Sensei—he didn’t want to become him. No one needed a thirty-year rivalry. No one.
But Robby continued to surprise Miguel, just by shaking his head. “No. I mean…I am sorry for that. It was an accident, and I’ll never regret anything more.”
Miguel wondered if that included going to Kreese for help. He decided not to ask. Maybe he could save that for their second conversation.
Robby took a deep breath, then admitted, “I mean, for starting all this. You hugged him. You hugged my dad, so I started a… a gang war.”
Miguel knew that many of them—even the Cobra Kais—preferred Mr. LaRusso. It was only natural to like the guy who’s unfailingly nice. For Miguel, though, there would always only be one, true Sensei.
Still, there was one lesson he’d let Mr. LaRusso teach him: perspective was everything. He’d never forget sitting in that old car, listening to Mr. LaRusso’s side of the story, and realizing just how complicated life really was.
“I don’t think it was that simple. I’m pretty sure I threw the first punch.” Technically, it had just been a shove, but Miguel only half-remembered that night anyway. That was the first time he’d ever been truly drunk.
Still, Robby shrugged, “Maybe it’s not… but maybe it is. My dad and Mr. LaRusso—they were fighting over a girl. But for us, it wasn’t about Sam. It was about my dad…” Robby gulped. “Our dad—if Mrs. LaRusso said it, it has to be true.”
Miguel chuckled. Yeah, Mrs. LaRusso was pretty smart. The humor only lasted for a moment, though. There was a heavy weight on Miguel’s chest, one that had rested there for over a year. It was probably the last enemy he had to face.
“After I found out that Sensei was your dad, I was furious. I finally understood why he was mad I’d beaten you, and I felt second-best. But then… then he tells me how his relationship with you is so full of pain, but that his relationship with me was full of joy.”
The raw grief on Robby’s face made Miguel want to stop. He didn’t know why he’d cared—Robby had caused him far more pain. But maybe that was the key. Maybe Miguel just didn’t want there to be any pain, for either of them.
But pain wasn’t inherently bad, that was one of the most important lessons of karate. If it brought improvement, if it made you stronger, if it helped you win… then pain was good. And Miguel knew, if he and Robby were to ever get better, he had to tell the truth. All of it.
“And then he promised he’d always be on my side. So I took that as him choosing me over you, and I loved it. Nothing about our relationship had changed, but suddenly, I felt secure. I knew he’d pick me, if it came down to it. But now I realize that him picking me means him abandoning you. And that’s… that’s just wrong. I wanted it, desperately, and it was wrong. So even if you started it, I didn’t finish it. So I’m sorry too, Robby.”
Robby buried his face in his hands, and Miguel felt his heart laid bare on the floor. The elephant sitting on his chest had gotten up, though. For the first time in too long, Miguel was completely without fear.
When Robby looked up, eyes clear, if sad, Miguel knew he felt the same. “I think, when it comes down to it, Dad can’t choose. So maybe… maybe we make it so he doesn’t have to. Brother.”
Miguel had never had a brother, or so he’d thought. Now he knew he’d had one for over a year. A laugh bubbled off his lips, “Well, I suppose we have the sibling rivalry part down already.”
Another milestone for the night— the first time Miguel and Robby had laughed together.