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Daniel had a magnetic personality, which was the polite way of saying that for his entire life Daniel had been confronted with unwanted male attention. At five years old his Ma would take him to the run-down park beside their old apartment and he’d come home with a skinned knee from the boy who pushed him down the slide. This would continue into grade school, middle school,  and high school. 

“They do that because they like you, they just don’t know how to show it,”  that was what girls were told if they got the same sort of attention. As if they should be thankful for the abuse. 

That never made sense to Daniel, that those girls should be happy when boys put gum in their hair and pushed them off swing sets. That these adults who he trusted could have such deeply flawed ideas.

Maybe it was because they had the soft, buffering tool of age on their side? The further away they were from their own childhoods the more fondly they could remember them? Look wistfully at the younger generations and yearn for false memories of happiness.

Maybe he didn’t understand because no one had ever thought to tell Daniel that. Daniel would get a thumbtack on his seat, and be told--  

“Are you sure you weren’t instigating, Daniel? ”

And maybe they had never thought to tell Daniel that because Daniel was a boy, and boys liking boys was far more dangerous than any bruises or contusions he might acquire.

Maybe it was because boys didn’t actually like him at all, and maybe that was a good thing, because why would he ever like them back after he had seen what they were capable of?

No, he got--

 “Boys will be boys.”

Another thing he never understood. Daniel had never seen someone and thought about hurting them just because. He didn’t understand the appeal. He didn’t understand so many of the things he was being told, both directly and through inaction.

Surely, this would all make sense to him someday. Surely, he was not alone.  

He didn’t understand why he couldn’t have friends like a normal kid. He didn’t understand why his Ma had to work so hard for so little, he didn’t understand why his dad was sick, and the world was shooting at each other.

He didn’t understand why his Ma held his hand so tight in certain parts of town. Why some adults weren’t allowed around kids. Why they would look at him differently. Until he did. 

The only man he could ever really trust was his father.

And then he was gone.

Maybe it was because he had grown up without a father. Maybe it was his “feminine” appearance, his uncompromising resolve to be true to himself. Maybe he was just a skinny brat and an easy target, and some people were built bad.

He’s sitting on a beach at the tail end of summer when it happens again. Daniel doesn’t know why, other than the fact that this always happened just when he thought things might be okay.

A kid in his new apartment complex had asked him to a party on the beach, and Daniel figured this one was probably alright. He hadn’t been too upset about getting a wooden gate to the face after all. Maybe the boys were different here?

 If he could have one friend, a friend who didn’t push him onto the hot tarmac and threaten to spit in his mouth, make him swallow it otherwise he’d be “ swallowing his teeth instead. Don’t tell anyone about this. I’m not a fag like you,”  but a boy he could trade comics with, and share homework, and maybe have over for dinner? That would make his Ma so happy.

His spine felt it first. That sick, tight, feeling in his spine raised his hackles. The noise came soon afterward, with their engines loud and impossible to ignore. And then finally he saw them, spitting dirt and causing trouble. 

Daniel never did know when to mind his own business. He knew that if he got up in the face of these Californian stereotypes that it would happen again, what always happened. He would become a convenient target for the frustration of other adolescent boys. His burden to bear as if that was why he had been placed on this earth, to absolve others of their sins, to endure that which might otherwise fall upon the backs of innocents. 

If he looked the other way, if he could only ignore the argument, there was a possibility that they might not notice him for a few weeks. If only he stayed sat on his ass. But he always did have a problem with bullies. And he knew the type. They would find him eventually, they always did, boys like this.

Maybe it was the dumb thing to do.

Maybe Daniel had never been that smart to begin with? 

Daniel went home with a black eye to hide from his Ma and the feeling that Johnny Lawrence was gonna be his number one fan.

Chapter Text

Obsess [ uhb- ses ]

verb (used with object)

to dominate or preoccupy the thoughts, feelings, or desires of (a person); beset, trouble, or haunt persistently or abnormally

Johnny looks at his hands covered in makeup and blood and thought. How had he gotten here? His thoughts were stop-starting, skipping, just to playback on a fractured loop. Tracks out of order and shoddily composed.

“I’ll decide when he’s had enough.”

Would he? Johnny had no idea what was enough. Why he was doing this. He was doing this. But. He couldn’t stop. Stop where he normally would. Just a little water. On any other day with any other kid, Johnny would’ve repaid the favor with a swirly and went on about his business. 

He saw the fear in his friends’ eyes, he was out of control and they knew it. Control was something Johnny held on to dearly, and it was obvious he was losing it more day by day. This was more.

This was more than knocking books out of hands and shoving kids into lockers. Daniel brought something out in him that was ugly and yearning and alive. Seeing Daniel’s face would cause something deep inside of Johnny to crawl up from inside of him and claw its way out.

But something within Daniel made his blood sing when he was around, and the creature inside of him demanded blood for blood. Something about Daniel crippled any sense of moderation Johnny had. 

And yet, there was something beautiful in the destruction of innocence, and in the destruction of beauty itself. But Johnny would sooner swallow a thumbtack than admit to anyone how damn pretty that kid was. It didn’t make any sense. Didn’t make it less true. 

He had seen Daniel run and had no choice but to chase. It was like he was succumbing to his baser instincts. What was this? This was something… He hadn’t felt before. Lost. Confused. Hungry.

Insatiable.

How could he feel so many things at once? His emotions were a rubber ball bouncing against all sides of his head every time he moved and yet he could not keep still. He was a tiger pacing in its cage, waiting for a meal that would hopefully never come. He wanted. But he didn’t. He hoped. For the sake of his conscience. 

It was probably a good thing that the old man had shown up, as pissed as Johnny was about it. He was more scared about what would’ve happened otherwise. Of course, his Sensei wouldn’t like this. Wouldn’t and couldn’t accept any sort of vulnerability from his champion. And Johnny would take his punishment in silence as retribution for his faults.

He stood in front of his bathroom mirror as he wiped the makeup off his face. Pitch black grease paint scrubbed away to show the sickly, purple-blue color of the mottled skin underneath. 

 A skeleton. 

A man inside out.

Chapter Text

There were six steps to the scientific method - 

Step 1: Ask a question. 

Step 2: Do background research. 

Step 3: Construct a hypothesis. 

Step 4: Test your hypothesis by doing an experiment. 

Step 5: Analyze the data and draw a conclusion. 

Step 6: Share your results. 

Daniel had been walking from class to class, passing through the open hallway that looked out over the sports fields as he made his way towards the other end of the school when he saw him.

 Johnny Lawrence. 

A feeling had pricked at the top of Daniel’s spine, like a sharp, hot needle sending a jolt to his nervous system. That subconscious reaction to possible danger that he had developed years ago to maneuver through the world. Somehow Johnny seemed to notice at the same time. They were meters apart still but met each other eye to eye, sharing a sense of indignation at such an inconvenience. If Daniel were maybe anyone else other than himself, if he had maybe half the amount of sense that he had for confrontation, he would keep his head down and keep walking.

But--

"Can I ask you a question? What pleasure you get from all this," Daniel asked, right as he passed Johnny. He was seconds away from safety and yet he couldn’t help himself. 

If it weren't for Miyagi then he might be in a hospital bed somewhere right now, hearing his Ma cry into her hands while he sucked his dinner through a straw. Miyagi (who had a much more refined sense of mediation than Daniel) had brokered a tentative, so far as of yet honored treaty between them and Cobra Kai. After Halloween, the school had become a neutral ground and so was possibly the safest place for Daniel to pursue his inquiry.

"What?" Johnny stopped in his tracks and spun around to stare down at Daniel, only inches away.

"The intimidation factor. You know what I'm talking about. I mean we both know you could kick my ass seven ways to Sunday, so why do you still bother?" 

Daniel knew boys like this. Boys like him. But if only he could get one of them to say it, just maybe if they could admit what Daniel was beginning to expect, that there was some other reason for them to lay their hands on him.

"Maybe because I like to? Something wrong with that?" 

And, oh, there was so much. Wrong.

Daniel could almost feel bad for boys like Johnny. He understood in a way, that deep and unsatiated hunger for intimacy. The lengths someone might go to acquire it. The edge of violence that came with desire. But he had never been tormented quite like this, what was wrong with these kids that made them this special kind of fucked up? And then Daniel had a thought-

"You ever think he might be wrong?" he asked.

"Who?"

"Your teacher, man. You ever think he might be wrong?" 

Strike hard. Strike fast. No mercy. Daniel couldn’t imagine living life like that. 

"Watch your mouth asshole, or I might very easily forget my promise." 

"I think you're already watching it for me,” Daniel snaps back. 

And at that Johnny seemed to have given up at any attempt at civility, grabbing Daniel by the collar of his shirt and slamming him back into the cold metal of the lockers they had been standing by, sticking one long finger into Daniel’s face.

So close, Daniel could tell Johnny wanted something. Something more. To punch him in the face maybe?  Maybe something far more dangerous? They were at a standstill, inches apart and yet miles away from one another, eyes smoldering with bewildered intent.  

“Mr. Lawrence,” a stern voice called out, ripping them from their reverie. Johnny sprung back, cradling his hand like he had touched a hot stove.

“Don’t worry about it Mr. Brenner,” Johnny said, venom dripping from his voice as a blush hit him high on the tips of his ears, “Larusso and I ain’t got no problem.”

Chapter Text

Step 2: Do background research. 

Daniel’s family was from Naples; he knew that much from listening in during the big family dinners they used to have back home. His Nonna and Uncle Louie would talk at length about the epic Greek poems, all the gods and goddesses, creatures of all sorts, and their epic romances and tragedies. He imagined that it might be somewhat like other households would do while watching football on Thanksgiving, and much like football, Daniel couldn’t be bothered to care much about a bunch of people with unpronounceable names banging their siblings. 

He figured it was maybe an adult thing. That's why he didn't get it. It was like golf and crossword puzzles, and eventually, he'd learn to enjoy them just like seemingly all his older male relatives did, just like the man in the apartment next door.  It was an unspoken agreement that at some point Daniel would have to care. It was the tone in their voices as they spoke. It was the look in their eyes when he was around and they were talking, but somehow thought he couldn't hear. (Kids are short, so apparently, kids can't hear.) That patronizing and unsaid assurance of "one day you'll understand, " smug and knowing.  

There was always one topic brought up the most often, with the most reverence; the sirens( who as far as Daniel could tell were part bird, part woman, and part mermaid, but he wasn't sure how that worked.) Parthenope, in specific, seemed to be brought up the most often.  She was the mother of Naples; It's the martyr, its protector, and idol. 

As far as Daniel remembered the story went something like this--

The sirens, after some sort of drama with the Muses, had been cursed by Hera to have their feathers plucked and live forever in the sea. Their job, for whatever reason, was to lure men to their deaths, and if they failed they were to drown themselves to atone for their sins. Parthenope was one of three sisters, and she had thrown herself against the rocks of Magaride for failing to Ulysses. S ome versions of the story claim that the island itself is built on her bones, and that her tears filled the bay. Then one-day Greek ships had reached her shores and decided that she was theirs.

And now, generations later, he and his Ma were in a shitty apartment with a faucet that leaked, surrounded by blonde assholes and rich kids, but eventually, "one day when we have the money," they would take a trip to see where they came from.  

That was another thing Daniel didn't understand; needing to know where you've been so as to get to where you're going. He knew where he was from. He was from a town in Jersey with flooded streets, and roach-filled apartments - a place where people bought their groceries with food stamps and pooled together their quarters so someone could sneak the rest of them into the drive-in.  It was a good place, and he missed it.

And maybe, just maybe, he was starting to understand why the adults in his family took this all so seriously. 

And maybe Johnny Lawrence was just a repressed jerk with daddy issues and Daniel was as always, an easy target. The small part of his brain that was even allowing Daniel to remember such absurd and fantastic stories, the complete and utter lack of sense that made it possible for him to form even half an idea, was hoping that it was the former -- hoping so hard that things could finally make sense and his pain could finally mean something.

However, thinking back on the story of Parthenope he didn't know if that would make the world any less cruel, or let it make any more sense.

Chapter Text

Step 3. Construct a hypothesis.

hy·poth·e·sis

/hīˈpäTHəsəs/

noun

1. a supposition or proposed explanation made on the basis of limited evidence as a starting point for further investigation.

There were a few certainties that Daniel knew about life: always tip wait staff, never trust anyone who doesn’t like dogs, and that just when you thought you understood something, you didn’t. However, Daniel had never understood the strange and destructive magnetism he seemed to radiate towards deranged men, so perhaps the universe could allow him an inversion of fate when it came to this particular scenario. 

By all accounts, the bizarre, surreal, half-formed ideas running through Daniel’s mind should probably legally allow him to be committed. The logical reasoning behind Daniel’s unromantic life was that sometimes people did bad things. He wasn’t about to go into the moral and ethical reasoning behind why people do the things that they did, they simply did them. He had spent much of his childhood and teenage years trying to understand what made seemingly all of the boys around him so deranged, and now he had an answer that was even more deranged. 

A Siren. He was pretty sure he wasn’t half-bird or half-mermaid or whatever, at least he had yet to sprout gills. Stranger things had happened though, he was sure: men have walked on the moon, at some point silverback gorillas were a myth, and 90% of the ocean was still unexplored.

So say there was something that could’ve been the inspiration for those silly stories his family took just a little too seriously? Like if there were actually was a guy in the desert, walking around performing miracles and hanging out with prostitutes and tax collectors, being followed around by a group of men writing down everything he said so that one-day people could read it and erect buildings for him?

It went like this, Daniel would propose an explanation to himself, test it, and then when he was proven wrong he would go back to accepting that cruelty was just an inherent part of human society. That he simply had the type of face that people wanted to punch. That Johnny Lawrence and his thugs were just the last in a long line of emotionally stunted neanderthals that had come across Daniel by chance, and then maybe he could move on from his miserable self-martyrdom.

But then there was the other option, no matter how minuscule it was, that he also had to consider; that there was something deeply, fundamentally different about himself, Daniel Larusso.

Would he be something less than human? Something monstrous enough to be punished by the gods? Would that make him less than human? Would it be better or worse if he knew, with clarity, that that dreadful feeling in the back of most children’s minds of not belonging, was unfortunately true for him but no one else? That there really was a universal truth that had cursed him with both adversity and... Daniel realized, also with power?

What would he do then?