IRON FISTS || Axel Kovacevic

Prologue

prologue

Jisoo moved like a storm, relentless and unyielding. Her strikes cracked the air, each one carrying the weight of years spent learning to turn pain into power. Across the mat—a square of dirt bordered by trees that reached for the heavens—Kwon was just as unrelenting, his movements fluid yet brutal, a counter to her precision.

The training ground in the woods hummed with tension. The forest was alive with sound: rustling leaves, the distant call of birds, the faint murmurs of students watching from the edges. But here, in the center of the clearing, there was only silence. Every eye was drawn to the fight unfolding between Jisoo and Kwon.

This wasn't a demonstration. It wasn't a simple sparring match. It was raw, unfiltered chaos.

Jisoo's gaze burned, dark and unreadable. She hadn't wanted to fight Kwon today—hadn't wanted to stand face-to-face with the boy who used to mean everything to her. But in Cobra Kai, it didn't matter what you wanted. Only what you could endure. And Jisoo had learned long ago that endurance was the only thing that mattered.

Her history with Kwon stretched back farther than she cared to admit. Once, they'd been partners in everything—training, strategy, and, briefly, something more. But that was before everything fell apart. Before their competitive natures and the weight of their personal ambitions turned them into enemies.

Kwon lunged, his fist aimed for her ribs. Jisoo shifted her weight, sidestepping with the ease of someone who had spent years anticipating his moves. She didn't counter immediately. Instead, she watched him, calculating. His frustration was evident in the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his movements grew just a fraction less controlled.

It was always like this between them: a dance of fury and precision, each trying to outdo the other, to prove something neither could articulate.

The forest around them seemed to hold its breath. Even the usually stoic students of Cobra Kai seemed captivated, their whispers barely audible. At the edge of the clearing, Sensei Kim Da-Eun stood with her arms crossed, her sharp eyes flicking between the fighters. Beside her, a new presence loomed—John Kreese.

Kreese's expression was unreadable as he watched. His eyes were fixed on the fighters, his posture calm but commanding. The legendary sensei, known for his ruthless philosophy, had come to observe Kim's training ground, to assess its strength and potential.

"What do you think of my best student?" Kim asked, her tone proud as she gestured toward a young man seated cross-legged at the edge of the group. Yoon.

Yoon was the embodiment of control and discipline, his movements always precise, his focus unwavering. In another world, Jisoo might have admired him. But here, now, all she could focus on was Kwon.

Kreese didn't even glance at Yoon. His gaze remained locked on the fight. "Not him," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "Those two."

Kim's eyes narrowed. "Kwon and Jisoo?"

Kreese nodded. "There's fire in them. You can't teach that."

Kim's lips thinned. "They're untamable," she said, her voice clipped. "Kwon is reckless. Jisoo is too aggressive. They don't listen."

Kreese's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Untamable doesn't mean unteachable. It just means they haven't had the right teacher."

On the mat, the fight raged on. Jisoo landed a solid hit to Kwon's shoulder, sending him stumbling back. For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something in his eyes—respect, maybe, or grudging admiration. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by determination.

"You're slowing down," Jisoo taunted, her voice low but cutting.

Kwon gritted his teeth, his movements growing sharper, more desperate. "And you're still predictable."

Their words were knives, cutting as deeply as their strikes. They knew each other too well—every strength, every weakness. And they weren't afraid to exploit them.

"Who are they?" Kreese asked, his voice breaking the tense silence.

Kim hesitated. "They're my worst students," she said finally. "They used to be partners. Dated, even. But they broke up a few months ago. Now they're always like this. Fighting, taunting, trying to outdo each other. They don't follow orders. They're chaos."

Kreese's smirk widened. "Perfect for each other, then," he said.

On the mat, Jisoo and Kwon collided again, their movements almost too fast to follow. Sweat dripped down their faces, their breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps. But neither backed down.

Jisoo felt the familiar burn in her muscles, the ache that came from pushing herself too far. But she didn't care. Pain was nothing compared to the satisfaction of winning, of proving that she was better, stronger.

And as she landed a final, brutal strike that sent Kwon sprawling onto the ground, she felt it—the rush of victory, the fierce pride that came from knowing she'd won.

But in the back of her mind, there was something else. A flicker of doubt, of unease. Because no matter how much she wanted to beat Kwon, no matter how much she wanted to leave the past behind, she couldn't escape the fact that he was still there. Always there.

As the forest fell silent, Kreese stepped forward, his boots crunching against the dirt. His gaze swept over the fighters, lingering on Jisoo before moving to Kwon.

"They have what it takes," he said, more to himself than anyone else.

His voice carried over the clearing, heavy with promise and uncertainty. And as Jisoo met Kwon's eyes—her chest still heaving, her fists still clenched—she felt it.

The storm wasn't over. It was only just beginning.

a/n:
i watched the part two of cobra kai yesterday and i immediately knew i was going to write about axel. be prepared loves.

also, if you like Outer Banks, check out my Rafe Cameron book, i think you'll love it.

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love y'all! 💕💕

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