𝑆 𝑇 𝑈 𝐶 𝐾

𝑑 𝑜 𝑢 𝑏 𝑡

THE NEXT MORNING dawned with a heavy stillness in the LaRusso kitchen, where Silas found himself pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

The sun filters through the window, casting long shadows across the wooden floor, but the warmth did little to ease the chill of anxiety that gripped him. He bit his thumb nervously, a habit he had never been able to shake, the taste of skin mingling with the bitter aftertaste of doubt that lingered in his mind.

Each bite felt like a reminder of the turmoil swirling inside him, a physical manifestation of the mental battle he was fighting.

All night, Silas had tossed and turned, haunted by the echoes of his own thoughts. He had tried to be quiet, not wanting to disturb Robby, who lay asleep in bed with his knee wrapped in a cast.

The sight of his boyfriend, vulnerable and unable to fight, gnawed at Silas. He had gotten out of bed multiple times, pacing the small space of their shared room, wrestling with the weight of his own hesitations.

Johnny's words replayed in his head like a relentless mantra: he should be fighting. He should be the one to confront Silver and end this once and for all.

The urgency of the moment pressed down on him like a suffocating blanket, and he knew he had to take action, but the question lingered—was he really ready for this?

Doubt crept in like a thief in the night, stealing away his confidence.

What if he wasn't strong enough?

What if he failed?

Each question was like a shadow, darkening his resolve and making him second-guess everything he had prepared for. And yet, here he was, standing in the LaRusso home, a place that felt both comforting and suffocating at the same time.

He needed to speak to his father, to find clarity and perhaps a spark of courage.

"Silas, w-what are you doing here?" Daniel stammers, stepping into the kitchen, his voice laced with shock as his gaze land on his son.

The sight of Silas, pacing like a restless spirit, sent a jolt of concern through him.

"I really needed to talk to you." Silas replies, barely meeting his father's eyes as he continues his anxious orbit around the room. "I've been up all night, a couple nights in a row actually, thinking about one thing and one thing only: should I be out there fighting, or should I stay where I am and give it all up?"

His words spill out, a torrent of emotion that had been building inside him. Daniel opens his mouth to respond, but he quickly realizes that his son wasn't finished.

Silas halts his pacing, finally turning to face Daniel fully. Tears glisten in his eyes, a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "I-I thought I lost so much because of karate, but it's truly been because of Silver. He's taken everything away from me. H-He made me lose every ounce of who I once was. I've been so full of anger for so long. And when K-Kwon died, that anger only grew, and now I'm just so lost...I don't know what to do. I-I don't know if I'm ready to fight again. Maybe you were right; maybe with all this baggage that keeps adding onto me, I'm not ready—."

"No." Daniel's voice cut through the air, firm and resolute. He shook his head, his heart aching for his son. "No. I was wrong. I was so completely wrong, Silas. You were ready, and you proved it on that mat. You showed not only me but the world how strong you are. You showed that you were capable of anything. When I told you that you weren't ready to fight, it was me being a scared father. I didn't want the world to hurt my son more than it already has, and in doing so, I only hurt you more. I can never express to you how sorry I am, but also how proud I am of you."