Heartstrings | Johnny Lawrence x (y/n) | 1984 |

| 21 | Play Dirty

You stood with the Cobras, your heart racing as you watched Johnny step into the ring. Every muscle in his body was tense, and the intensity in his eyes was unmistakable. Daniel looked ready too, his face determined as he threw glances at you and Johnny, clearly motivated by his own supporters — especially Ali, who cheered loudly from the sidelines. You clenched your fists, narrowing your eyes at her, but your focus stayed on Johnny.

The match began, and immediately it was clear this wouldn't be a clean fight. Johnny and Daniel exchanged hard blows, each hit landing with precision and force. It was brutal, the kind of fight that had everyone in the crowd holding their breath. But then, Daniel landed a rough blow to Johnny's face, sending him sprawling to the ground. Blood trickled from Johnny's nose, but he stood up, jaw clenched, trying to shake off the pain.

The referee called timeout and Kreese called Johnny.

Sensei Kreese leaned in observing Johnnys face, his voice cold and demanding. "Sweep the leg," he ordered, his tone filled with harsh expectation.

Johnny paused, an uncertain look flickering in his eyes. You could see the weight of the command settling on him, knowing exactly what Kreese was asking him to do. He hesitated, the conflict clear on his face.

Kreese's voice sliced through the air, sharper and more demanding. "Do we have a problem, Mr. Lawrence?"

Johnny swallowed, his gaze lowering slightly. "No, Sensei."

Kreese's eyes narrowed, a twisted smile playing on his lips. "No mercy," he commanded, his voice like steel.

Johnny nodded, a look of resignation settling over him as he turned back to face Daniel. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, the worry twisting in your gut. You knew Johnny's strength and skill, but this wasn't him. This was Kreese's version of him — relentless, unyielding, ruthless. And that terrified you.

Johnny went back into the fight, his focus narrowing as he landed a hard kick to Daniel's side, earning a point. The impact sent Daniel stumbling, his face contorted in pain. Johnny didn't let up, landing another solid hit that drove Daniel back, earning another point. Daniel's expression turned grim as he fought to keep himself together, visibly hurt.

You watched, heart racing, a mixture of pride and dread swelling inside you. The crowd was a frenzy, caught between their cheers and gasps, but you could only think of Johnny. You could see the pain, the inner conflict as he moved. This wasn't who he wanted to be, and yet he was pushing forward, fighting harder, risking more.

"Come on, Johnny!" you called, hoping your voice could reach him, give him the strength he needed.

He glanced your way, even for just a second, and you could see something flicker in his gaze, the hint of the Johnny you knew. But then the bell rang, calling for the next round, and you steeled yourself, holding onto the hope that, somehow, he'd come through this fight intact.

The third round began with an electric tension, the air heavy with anticipation. You barely blinked, every part of you focused on Johnny, urging him on even as you sensed his exhaustion. Daniel looked equally worn but determined, his stance focused as he readied himself. Then, before anyone could react, Daniel sprang into the Crane kick.

Time seemed to slow as Daniel's foot connected with Johnny's face, the force of the blow snapping Johnny's head back and sending him crashing to the floor. Gasps and cheers erupted around you, the crowd in an uproar as Daniel was declared the victor. You barely registered the noise, everything around you fading as you rushed forward, heart pounding.

Johnny lay on the mat, a dazed look in his eyes as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. You dropped to your knees beside him, reaching out to touch his shoulder, your hand shaking. "Johnny..." you murmured, worry thick in your voice. His face was already bruising, a darkening mark blossoming from the kick, and a trail of blood ran from his nose. Despite his attempt to sit up, he looked disoriented.