CHAPTER 15: THE PROM COMPLICATION
POV: Ivyn Mikaelson
Prom looms on the school calendar like a glittery obstacle. Sam expects me to participate in normal teenage rituals despite the tournament being five weeks away.
I agree. Because our relationship requires these gestures.
Even as my mind calculates the training time I'm sacrificing.
Renting a tux with money earned from tutoring gigs feels surreal. The disconnect between my two lives stark and undeniable. The martial artist preparing for combat. The boyfriend participating in high school theater.
Sam is radiant in a blue dress that makes her eyes devastating. The color catches the light as she moves, and for a moment I forget about tournaments and training and everything else.
"You clean up nice," she says, adjusting my tie.
"You're stunning."
She kisses me softly. "Three hours. That's all I'm asking. Just be present with me."
"I can do that."
"I hope I can do that."
The gym is transformed. Cheap decorations trying to be elegant. Music too loud. Teenagers dressed like adults playing at sophistication.
Daniel is chaperoning. Of course he is. His eyes track me constantly. But Amanda waves encouragingly from the refreshment table.
We dance to music I don't recognize. Sam fits perfectly in my arms. She's laughing at something Moon said earlier, and I try to be present. Just present.
Not mentally reviewing kata sequences. Not calculating optimal sparring strategies. Not thinking about Miguel or the tournament or the weight of knowledge I carry.
For three hours, I allow myself to just be an 18-year-old at prom with his girlfriend.
It's almost enough to forget the weight of everything else.
Almost.
Miguel arrives with a girl from another school. Pretty. Nice enough. But throughout the night, I catch him staring at Sam with obvious longing.
"He still doesn't know. After all this time, he still doesn't know."
My stomach tightens with the knowledge of what's coming.
Bathroom break. Miguel and I end up at adjacent sinks. The punch someone spiked has made him bolder. Looser.
"Sam LaRusso." His voice carries that wistful quality I recognize. "Is she as amazing up close as she seems from across the cafeteria?"
Time compresses. This is the moment. The revelation I've been dreading.
"She's my girlfriend, Miguel. Has been since November."
The silence is deafening. Water running. Music muffled through walls. Miguel's face cycling through emotions too fast to track.
Confusion. Recognition. Betrayal. Anger. Embarrassment.
"You knew I liked her."
"Miguel—"
"Back during Thanksgiving. I told you—" His voice rises. "I asked you about her, and you just... you gave me advice. About not pursuing someone in a relationship. And it was you. You were the boyfriend."
"I didn't lie. I told you she was taken and to move on."
"That's basically lying!" He steps closer. "All these months. Every time I mentioned her. You just said nothing?"
"I was protecting—"
"Don't." His hand cuts through the air. "Don't make excuses. You let me humiliate myself. Confessing feelings about your girlfriend. While you what? Laughed at me?"
"I never laughed. I was trying to—"
Hawk bursts through the door. Reads the tension immediately. "Everything cool?"
Miguel pushes past him. "We're done here."
I stand at the sink. Water still running. Staring at my reflection and hating what I see.
[RELATIONSHIP STATUS UPDATE:]
[MIGUEL DIAZ: Close Friend → Former Close Friend (Hostile)]
[Damage: Severe]
[Trust: Destroyed]
[Repair probability: Low]
The rest of prom passes in a blur. Sam knows something happened but doesn't push. We dance. We take pictures. We maintain the facade.
But the damage is done.
Next day at training, Miguel arrives early. Doesn't look at me. Partners with Robby instead.
Johnny notices during warm-ups. "What's your problem, Diaz?"
"Nothing, Sensei. Just focused."
But when we're forced to partner for sparring, the truth becomes evident.
Miguel comes at me with genuine hostility. Not training intensity. Real anger channeled through technique.
He lands a hook that splits my eyebrow. Cross that drives air from my lungs. Low kick that nearly buckles my knee.
I don't retaliate at full intensity. Because I understand the anger. This beating is penance for months of omission.
Johnny stops us. "That's enough. Both of you, cool down."
After class, I try. "Miguel, I should have told you. I was protecting the relationship from drama, but that was selfish."
His response is cold. Clinical. "We're teammates. That's it. Don't pretend we're friends."
He walks away. Doesn't look back.
[DOJO UNITY: 85 → 60]
[WARNING: Internal conflict affecting team cohesion]
[Tournament preparation compromised]
The dojo's atmosphere shifts with our friendship broken. Others sense the tension. Take sides.
Hawk and Robby gravitate toward Miguel. Aisha and Demetri stay neutral. Newer students watch uncertainly.
The unified front Johnny wanted for the tournament splinters.
And I can't fix it. Can't explain. Can't make it right.
Sam finds me in the parking lot after. "What happened with Miguel?"
"He found out. About us. About me not telling him."
She's quiet for a moment. "How bad?"
"Bad. He's... he's done with me."
She takes my hand. "I'm sorry. But Ivyn, you can't keep everyone happy while hiding parts of yourself. Something was going to break eventually."
"I know. Doesn't make it hurt less."
"No. It doesn't."
[COMBAT XP: 17,200]
[TOURNAMENT: 5 weeks]
[Emotional cost: Mounting]
Five weeks becomes four. The weight of foreknowledge grows heavier.
I train harder. Because I can control technique progression even if I can't control relationships.
The tournament approaches. Inevitable as sunrise.
And I wonder if I'll have any friends left when it's over.
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