Daniel LaRusso's POV

The alarm beeped at 6 a.m. I woke up from a dream about Mr. Miyagi. In the dream, his hands were on my shoulders, holding me steady. I opened my eyes. Amanda was asleep beside me, warm and soft.

"Morning, sensei," she whispered, her eyes still closed. Her fingers brushed my chest.

I laughed quietly. "Feels like just yesterday we were sneaking out after prom."

She opened her green eyes, and they sparkled the same way they did in high school. "Yeah? Now you're a big shot car dealer. A family man. Wax on, cash off."

She poked me in the ribs. I laughed and swatted her hand away. But for a second, I thought about the '84 tournament and Ali. I pushed the memory down. Balance, Daniel. Always balance i said to myself .

Downstairs, the kitchen was loud. My eight-year-old son, Anthony, was eating Frosted Flakes like his life depended on it. "Dad! I'm gonna beat Sam's high score in Fortnite tonight!" Milk sloshed out of his bowl.

My daughter, Sam, walked in. She was on her phone, already looking annoyed. "Please. You'd quit in the first minute," she said, but she ruffled his hair. Her smile was tight. Something was wrong. School drama, probably. Cheerleaders or a boy.

I poured coffee for Amanda and me. "Team LaRusso, ready for the day? Time to sell some cars?"

Anthony yelled, "Can I come? I wanna see the karate cars!"

Sam rolled her eyes. "Dad, it's so cheesy. The salesmen wearing those gis."

Amanda gave her a look, then winked at me. "Cheesy sells. Remember that guy last week? He bought a Camry and a free bonsai tree."

We all laughed, but Sam looked away. My chest felt tight. My real job wasn't selling cars. It was protecting them. That was the real black belt.

I grabbed my keys. The little bonsai tree keychain jangled. I kissed Amanda. "Love you. Kick butt at yoga."

"You too, Mr. Miyagi," she grinned. "No sweeping legs today."

Her joke was light, but it lit an old fire inside me. I saw Johnny's face in the ring, his foot swinging at my head. I pushed the thought away and walked out the door.

The morning air in Encino was cool. My Lexus started with a quiet purr. I drove on the 101 freeway. The radio played an old Journey song. Billboards flew past. One of them was huge. It had a picture of me in my white karate gi. It said, "LaRusso Auto: Balance Your Ride." I built this from nothing. Mr. Miyagi taught me about cars in his garage. Wax on, sell off.

I pulled into the car lot. Flags with karate chops on them snapped in the wind. My sales team, all wearing gis, were practicing their karate moves by the showroom window.

Lou, my top salesman, saw me. "Boss! Morning kata? Or straight to making money?" He gave a little bow and laughed.

I bowed back. "Save the moves for the customers, Lou. What's going on today?"

We walked inside. The showroom was cool and shiny. Rows of new Toyotas and Hondas gleamed under the lights. Some had "Miyagi-Do" stickers on them. A family was looking at a silver CR-V. The dad was staring at the price tag.

"Three customers are already here," Lou said, handing me a clipboard. "That soccer mom loves the free bonsai tree. She mentioned you winning the All Valley tournament."

I felt a rush of pride, but it was mixed with an old pain. The All Valley. Johnny's angry face. Kreese watching from the corner. "Good. Give her a free tune-up, too. Make her a customer for life."

We stopped by the display of bonsai trees. I straightened one of the little trees. Its leaves were perfect. Balance. That was the secret Mr. Miyagi taught me. Not how to hit, but how to be still.

My phone buzzed. A text from Amanda: Sam's quiet. Girl stuff? Or that party invite?

I didn't know what to type. I loved my daughter, but I hated that I couldn't fix her problems. I texted back: I'll talk to her after work. Miyagi would say, 'Paint the fence.' I smiled a little. But underneath, I felt a simmer of something else. Johnny was out there somewhere, probably still angry. The San Fernando Valley is a big place, but the past has a way of finding you.

I shook my head. "Lou, get everyone together. Demo drive time. Let's show them how a LaRusso car drives."

Out on the lot, the engines roared. I got into a demo Accord, put the top down, and hit the gas. The tires gripped the pavement. My heart beat fast. People watching clapped. Kids pointed, their eyes wide.

This was my life. An empire built on Mr. Miyagi's lessons. I had taken his wisdom and wrapped it in chrome and steel.

But as I sped past the hills, I felt it—the ghost of my old rival. Johnny's sharp, angry stare.

I pushed the gas pedal harder. Not today. Today, I was the Bonsai King. Successful. In control.

Except for the small cracks no one could see.