CHAPTER 61: THE LAST SUPPER
Sunday dinner at the LaRusso residence had become something I looked forward to. A point of normalcy in a life that had abandoned normal somewhere around the third underground fight.
Tonight, it felt like goodbye.
Not literally. I wasn't dying—at least, I didn't plan to. But sitting at the table with Daniel and Amanda and Anthony and Sam, passing dishes and making small talk, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was the last peaceful meal I'd have for a long time.
Amanda had outdone herself. Roast chicken, three sides, homemade rolls that smelled like heaven. The LaRusso family gathered food the way some families gathered grievances—with abundance and enthusiasm.
"Mashed potatoes?" Amanda asked, holding out the bowl.
"Thank you." I took it. Served myself more than I needed because the alternative was staring at Sam and wondering if I'd gotten her killed by teaching her to fight.
The potatoes were perfect. Creamy, buttery, the kind of comfort food that made problems feel temporarily solvable. I chewed mechanically, tasting nothing.
"Ivyn?" Amanda's voice brought me back. "You okay? You've been quiet."
"Just tired. Long week."
"The tournament!" Anthony piped up, then immediately froze, his fork halfway to his mouth, realizing his mistake.
Every adult at the table turned to him. The kid's face cycled through expressions like a slot machine—panic, calculation, attempted innocence, resignation.
"What tournament?" Daniel asked carefully.
Anthony looked at me. Looked at Sam. Looked at the ceiling like it might contain an escape route. Looked at his chicken like maybe it had answers.
"The, uh... video game tournament. At school. Ivyn was helping me practice."
"I didn't know you played video games competitively," Amanda said. Her tone was casual, but her eyes were sharp. Mom instincts activated.
"New hobby. Very time-consuming." Anthony nodded rapidly. "Ivyn's really good at it. Like, tournament level good. We've been practicing. A lot. In the garage. With controllers."
I made a mental note to actually teach Anthony some video game skills so the lie would hold up. The kid had good instincts for deception—elaborate details, confident delivery, minor nervous tells that could be read as excitement. LaRusso gene, probably.
"Anyway," Sam jumped in, redirecting expertly, "Dad, how's the dealership situation? You said something about new advertising approaches."
Daniel launched into a complicated explanation involving market demographics and competitor analysis. I stopped listening around the third mention of lease incentive programs.
Under the table, Sam's foot found mine. Pressed once. Reassurance.
I pressed back.
Across the table, Amanda was still watching me. Her expression had softened, but the sharpness remained underneath. She knew something was wrong. Mothers always did.
I forced myself to eat more potatoes. To smile at appropriate moments. To laugh when Anthony told a joke about his math teacher. To participate in the illusion of normalcy.
But my mind was elsewhere. Calculating hours until noon tomorrow. Running scenarios for every possible outcome of the Silver meeting. Wondering if this table, these people, this moment would survive the week.
---
After dinner, while Amanda and Sam handled dishes, Daniel pulled me onto the back patio.
The Miyagi-Do dojo spread out before us—the pond where Mr. Miyagi's fish had once swum, the wooden decks where generations of students had learned balance, the sense of history that permeated every board and stone.
"This Silver situation," Daniel said quietly. "How bad is it? Really."
I'd been expecting the question. Still didn't have a good answer.
"Remember your worst experience with him? The tournament in '85, the manipulation, the way he got inside your head?"
Daniel's face tightened. "Yes."
"Triple it. At minimum." I watched the setting sun paint the garden in shades of orange and red. "He's evolved. He's richer now, more connected, more patient. And he's been planning something for years. We just accelerated his timeline by being too visible."
"The underground fighting."
"Among other things."
Daniel was silent for a long moment. "Should I call the police? The FBI? Someone with actual authority?"
"With what evidence? Photos I can't explain how I obtained? Testimony from underground fighters? The word of an eighteen-year-old with a reputation for violence?" I shook my head. "Silver's spent decades building a legitimate front. DynaTox Industries, charity foundations, political connections. Any investigation would be buried before it started."
"Then what do we do?"
"We prepare. We train. We make sure that when he moves, we're ready to move faster." I turned to face him directly. "Mr. LaRusso—Daniel—tomorrow changes everything. I can't tell you how I know, but I know. Something's coming. Something that's going to test every alliance we've built."
Daniel studied me with the same intensity he'd shown during that first dinner, when I was just the punk Cobra Kai kid dating his daughter.
"You know more than you're saying."
"I always do."
"That's not comforting."
"It's not meant to be." I held his gaze. "Comfort is for people who don't know what's coming. You and Johnny—you've both faced Silver before. You know what he's capable of. I'm just trying to make sure this time, he doesn't win."
Daniel didn't respond immediately. He turned to look at his dojo, at the legacy Mr. Miyagi had left him, at everything he'd built.
"When I was Daniel's age," he said finally, "I thought I knew everything. I thought if I trained hard enough, believed hard enough, I could overcome anything." He smiled, but it was tired. "Then I met Silver. And I learned that sometimes the enemy is smarter than you, meaner than you, and has resources you can't match."
"How'd you beat him?"
"I didn't. Not really. He beat himself. Got overconfident, pushed too hard, made mistakes." Daniel turned back to me. "But I don't think he's going to make those mistakes again. Do you?"
"No," I admitted. "I don't."
"Then what's your plan?"
"Chaos." The word felt right. "Silver plans. He schemes. He manipulates. But chaos—true, unpredictable chaos—that's something he can't control. So we give him chaos. We make moves he doesn't expect. We unite people who should be enemies. We fight in ways he hasn't prepared for."
"Chaos," Daniel repeated. "That's not a plan. That's a philosophy."
"Sometimes philosophy is all you've got."
---
Sam walked me to my car at 9 PM. The sun had fully set, stars emerging in the gaps between streetlights. The kind of peaceful suburban evening that felt like a painting of something that didn't exist anymore.
"You're acting weird," she said. "Weirder than normal. And your normal is already pretty weird."
"Thanks for that."
"I mean it." She stopped walking, forcing me to stop too. "You've been somewhere else all night. Here but not here. What's going on?"
I looked at her. Sam LaRusso. The girl I'd started dating to change the timeline and ended up falling for in ways I hadn't expected. Fierce and smart and beautiful and capable of violence that would have horrified her a few months ago.
"Tomorrow, Silver wants to meet me," I said. "Noon. He's going to make an offer. Try to recruit me again, probably. Maybe threaten me. I don't know exactly what happens, but I know it's going to change things."
"Then I'll come with you."
"No."
"Ivyn—"
"No." I grabbed her hands. "Sam, listen to me. Silver has a file on you. On your whole family. If you're there, he'll use you. He'll threaten you in ways that will make me do something stupid. The best thing you can do tomorrow is stay visible, stay public, stay surrounded by witnesses."
Her jaw tightened. "I'm not afraid of him."
"You should be." I tightened my grip on her hands. "Promise me something. If I tell you to run, you run."
She laughed. It was the wrong response—too light, too dismissive.
"I don't run anymore," she said. "You taught me that."
Pride and fear. The same war I'd been fighting since I started training her. She was everything I'd wanted her to become—strong, confident, capable—and that made her exponentially more dangerous to protect.
"Sam—"
"Whatever happens tomorrow, we handle together." She cut me off. "That's what you said. That's what I believed. Don't take it back now."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to explain that together didn't mean facing a billionaire psychopath in his own territory. Wanted to tell her that some battles had to be fought alone.
Instead, I pulled her close. Hugged her longer than necessary. Memorized the feel of her against me—the smell of her shampoo, the strength in her arms, the way she fit perfectly in spaces I hadn't known were empty.
"I love you," I said.
The words slipped out. First time. Wrong moment. Perfect moment.
She pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. Her expression shifted through surprise, warmth, something that looked dangerously close to tears.
"I love you too," she said. "Which is why I'm not letting you face this alone."
"Sam—"
"We'll discuss it tomorrow." She kissed me. Brief but fierce. "Get some sleep. You look like death warmed over."
She walked back toward the house. At the door, she turned.
"Call me after the meeting. The second it's over."
"I will."
She went inside.
I stood in the driveway for a long moment, watching the lights in the LaRusso home, counting windows, imagining the family inside. Amanda washing the last dishes. Anthony sneaking video games past his bedtime. Daniel in his study, probably staring at Mr. Miyagi's photograph, asking for guidance that couldn't come.
And Sam. Somewhere in that house. The warrior princess I'd helped create. The liability I couldn't protect.
The fortune cookie Anthony had given me was still in my pocket. I'd forgotten to eat it, too distracted by anxiety and goodbye feelings.
I opened it now. Cracked the shell, pulled out the slip of paper.
Your future holds great change.
I laughed. It came out wrong—too high, too sharp, edging toward hysteria.
"Thanks, kid," I whispered to the absent Anthony. "Absolutely perfect."
---
The drive home took twenty minutes. Plenty of time to make mental checklists.
Johnny: Allied, if awkwardly. Would need to call him tomorrow morning, confirm the defense coordination plans they'd discussed with Daniel. Make sure he understood this was real, not paranoia.
Daniel: Allied, if reluctantly. Understanding my urgency now, even if he didn't understand the source. He'd protect his family. That was certain.
The team: Ready. Contracts signed. Bonds forged through shared violence. They'd fight for each other. Tory and Sam had high-fived in a parking lot. Hawk had given Demetri combat geometry lessons. Robby and Miguel were texting strategy tips. The impossible had become routine.
The question was whether they'd get the chance to use what they'd learned.
Silver: The variable. The threat. The man who could unmake everything I'd built with a single phone call or a carefully aimed bullet. Tomorrow I walked into his office and... what? Negotiated? Refused him again? Let him think he'd won while planning to destroy him?
Every scenario ended in violence. I just didn't know what kind.
Barnes and Snake: Coming. Soon. Tomorrow? The day after? The timeline had shifted too much for certainty. My knowledge from the show said Season 5, but this wasn't the show anymore. This was my life. My world. My consequences.
My apartment complex appeared through the windshield—three stories of beige stucco and optimistic landscaping, home to students and young professionals and one teenage transmigrator trying to save the world.
I parked in my usual spot. Sat in the car for a moment, hands on the wheel, staring at nothing.
[System Notice: Mental State Deteriorating. Recommend: Rest and Strategic Planning.]
"Working on it," I muttered.
The apartment was dark when I entered. I didn't bother turning on lights—just navigated by the glow of my phone screen to the bedroom.
Fifteen alarms. Set at five-minute intervals starting at 9 AM. Because tomorrow I couldn't oversleep. Tomorrow I couldn't be late. Tomorrow I had a noon appointment with the devil, and devils didn't appreciate tardiness.
I checked the DynaTox photos one more time. Made sure they were backed up to three different cloud services. Evidence that might save everyone, or evidence that might get me killed for having it.
The bed was cold when I collapsed onto it. The sheets smelled like loneliness and too much stress-sweat. But I couldn't be bothered to change them. Couldn't be bothered to shower. Couldn't be bothered to do anything except lie there and stare at the ceiling and wonder if this was the last night I'd spend in this apartment.
The fortune cookie fortune was still in my pocket. I pulled it out, smoothed the paper against my chest.
Your future holds great change.
"No kidding," I told the empty room. "Thanks for the newsflash, universe."
But I kept the fortune anyway. Tucked it under my pillow like a child with a tooth, hoping for something magical.
Tomorrow at noon, I walked into Terry Silver's trap.
Tomorrow, I found out if all my preparation meant anything.
Tomorrow, the war began for real.
And somewhere in this city, in houses and apartments and dojos scattered across the valley, my people were sleeping. Sam. Miguel. Tory. Hawk. Robby. Demetri. Aisha. Johnny and Daniel, former enemies turned reluctant allies. Viktor and Marcus and Rebecca, the underground family I'd built.
All of them trusting me.
All of them depending on me.
All of them completely unaware of how terrified I was.
I closed my eyes.
One last normal sleep.
Tomorrow, everything changed.
To supporting Me in Pateron .
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