𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. may you never forget me

THE CROWDS ENERGY PULSED UPWARD AND outward, rattling the steel beams of the structure and echoing into the cavernous ceiling. Kwon leaned back against the cold metal railing on the upper observation deck, his arms crossed, his posture loose but alert. His dark eyes glinted with a mixture of amusement and disdain as he watched the Miyagi-Do dojo crumble under the relentless onslaught of Dublin Thunder.

The platforms, precariously narrow and swaying slightly from the movement of the fighters, were suspended high above the mats below. The height was intimidating, the fall unnerving, but the fighters had no time to think about that. Balance and speed were everything now; hesitation was a death knell.

Dublin Thunder was merciless, their fighters charging with brute force, each hit calculated to send their opponents tumbling down into the safety net of mats below. Kwon smirked, watching as another Miyagi-Do fighter — Hawk, he thought, with his stoic focus and practiced stance — lost footing after a sharp, well-placed strike. His fall wasn't dramatic; it was quick, efficient, and final.

The crowd's cheers spiked, and Kwon nearly laughed.

This? he thought, shaking his head. This is the team Sensei was so fixated on?

Their so-called captains were soft. And Johnny Lawrence and Daniel LaRusso might be legends, but their students didn't carry the weight of that legacy. Not from what Kwon could see. Their strikes lacked conviction, their movements were predictable, and their balance was no match for Dublin's sheer aggression.

Kwon's lips curled into a grin as another one went down — Demetri this time. he hesitated, his footing faltered, and one decisive kick sent him sprawling into the void. His scream was brief, more from frustration than fear, before he landed safely on the mats below.

Kwon tilted his head, considering the scene with detached curiosity. Maybe their strategy was just to make fools of themselves. If so, it was working.

And then Jieun stepped onto the platform.

Kwon straightened, his arms unfolding as he leaned forward, intrigued despite himself. She moved with a kind of deliberate slowness, her steps sure, her eyes steady. There was no hesitation, no faltering, only a quiet, simmering intensity that didn't fit with the rest of her team's disarray.

Miguel joined her, stepping into place with a similar confidence, though his energy felt different — like a spring coiled too tight, ready to release. The two of them stood side by side, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

The crowd's noise shifted, a low murmur of curiosity threading through the cheers. Even Kwon felt it, the way the air in the arena seemed to still, as if holding its breath.

When the first Thunder fighter lunged, Jieun didn't step back. She didn't even flinch. Instead, she shifted her weight ever so slightly, letting his momentum carry him forward, and with one swift, calculated strike, she sent him sprawling off the platform.

The fall happened so fast, the crowd barely had time to react.

Kwon's grin faded.

Miguel was already moving, engaging the second Thunder fighter with a series of sharp, fluid strikes. His movements were precise, his balance unshakable, and it was clear he was holding back just enough to keep his opponent guessing.

And Jieun — she was relentless.

Her strikes were unorthodox, her style a strange mix of aggression and elegance that didn't fit the usual Miyagi-Do mold. Kwon narrowed his eyes, studying her movements. This wasn't the careful, defensive style of balance and patience that Miyagi-Do was known for. This was something else entirely, something faster, sharper, more brutal.

Within minutes, Dublin Thunder had lost another fighter.

The crowd erupted, the noise deafening now, but Kwon barely heard it. His focus was entirely on the two figures on the platform, moving with a kind of synergy that was unsettling in its precision.

They've been hiding their real captains, Kwon realized, his chest tightening with a flicker of something he couldn't quite name. Annoyance? Admiration?

He watched as Jieun's next opponent — a hulking Thunder fighter nearly twice her size — charged at her with reckless force. For a moment, it looked like he might overpower her, his sheer size and strength too much to counter. But Jieun didn't back down.

She ducked low, her movements a blur, and with a swift, calculated sweep of her leg, she took out his balance. He teetered, his arms flailing for purchase, but Jieun was already moving, her next strike landing with precision that sent him tumbling off the platform.

The crowd's cheers swelled to a roar, but Jieun didn't acknowledge it. She didn't look at the mats below, didn't glance at Miguel, didn't even break her stance. She was completely in the zone, her focus razor-sharp, her expression unreadable.

Kwon leaned back against the railing, his smirk returning, though it was smaller now, tinged with something darker.

So that's how it is, he thought, his eyes narrowing as Jieun and Miguel prepared for the next wave of opponents. They're better than I gave them credit for.

A memory came to Kwon like a stone skipping across water, fragmented but vivid. It was late afternoon in Korea, the air thick with the earthy scent of pine and moss, the sky streaked with bruised clouds threatening rain. He had been lingering at the edge of the forest surrounding the training grounds, ostensibly cooling down after a grueling session, but his curiosity had drawn him deeper into the woods.

He'd seen them first — a fleeting glimpse of Sensei Kim and Sensei Kreese, their figures cutting through the shadows like phantoms. They walked side by side, their voices hushed but intense, the rhythm of their footsteps almost too deliberate, as if they were careful not to disturb the silence around them.

Kwon had followed them, keeping his distance, weaving through the latticework of trees until he was close enough to hear. He crouched behind a jagged outcrop of rocks, his breath shallow, his pulse a quiet drumbeat in his ears.

"She has her father's eyes," Daeun said, her voice sharp and low, tinged with something Kwon couldn't quite place — was it regret? Or something closer to longing?

Kreese grunted, the sound noncommittal but heavy with understanding. "You mean Jieun."

The name landed like a blade in Kwon's chest, unexpected and cutting. He felt the weight of it immediately, pressing against his ribcage as if it might force his breath out entirely.

"You remember her," Daeun said, her tone softening slightly, as though she were treading on fragile ground.

"Of course I remember her," Kreese said. "She was one of mine. For a time, anyway. But she didn't belong. She's too... different. She never embraced Cobra Kai, not really. She fought like she was dancing — fluid, unpredictable, impossible to control."

Daeun exhaled sharply, the sound edged with frustration. "And you let her go."

Kreese's laugh was cold, a dry, humorless sound. "She let herself go. She didn't need me or Cobra Kai. She had her own way, her own ideas. Not like the others who stayed loyal."

There was a pause, the kind that felt deliberate, as though something unspoken had lodged itself between them.

"She's more than just one of your wayward students," Da-eun said finally, her voice tightening. "She's —" She stopped, as if the words were caught in her throat.

Kwon leaned in closer, his curiosity burning now, his heart pounding with the effort of staying perfectly still.

"She's my niece," Da-eun said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The words hung in the air, heavy and strange, like an unexpected storm. Kwon blinked, his mind struggling to connect the pieces. Her niece?

Kreese was silent for a moment, then his voice came, measured and careful. "That's not possible. You're telling me Jieun is related to you?"

"Yes," Daeun said, the word sharp as a blade. "She doesn't know, of course. She wouldn't. I was banished before she was born."

Kwon's breath hitched. Banished?

Daeun continued, her voice steadier now but carrying an undercurrent of something raw. "Our family has always been...unyielding. My brother, Jieun's father, chose the life he wanted, and I chose mine. That's all they needed to cast me out. When I came to America, I swore I'd leave them behind. But then I saw her. I didn't know at first, but when I saw her fight, I knew. She's got the same fire, the same defiance that got me exiled."

"And now?" Kreese asked, his tone unreadable.

"Now I see an opportunity," Daeun said, her voice hardening. "She doesn't know her own strength, her own potential. She could be great — not just great, but unstoppable. She's wasting it with Miyagi-Do and those fools who coddle her. She could be so much more if she embraced who she really is."

Kreese chuckled, the sound low and almost approving. "So that's why you've been so keen on this whole tournament. It's not about Cobra Kai winning. It's about her."

Daeun didn't deny it. "If she's anything like me, she won't settle for mediocrity. She'll realize sooner or later that the path she's on won't lead her to victory. And when she does, I'll be there to show her the way."

Kwon's grip on the rock tightened, his nails digging into the rough surface. His mind reeled with the revelation, with the implications of what he'd just heard.

But before he could process it, Daeun's sharp voice cut through the air again.

"Come out, Kwon," she said, her tone icy and precise. "I know you're there."

His blood turned cold. How had she —? But then he remembered who she was, how attuned she was to every sound, every movement. There had been no chance of hiding from her, not really.

Kwon stood slowly, brushing off the dirt from his hands, his expression carefully blank as he stepped into their line of sight.

Daeun's eyes locked onto his, unyielding and sharp. Kreese stood beside her, his face unreadable, but Kwon could feel the weight of their scrutiny pressing down on him like a physical force.

"I trust you'll keep what you've heard to yourself," Daeun said, her voice a quiet command.

Kwon nodded, but his mind was already racing, the fragments of what he'd overheard tumbling over one another, forming a picture he wasn't sure he wanted to see.

The arena roared with a cacophony of applause, the kind of deafening noise that reverberated in your chest and left your ears ringing. The lights overhead seemed brighter now, glinting off the sweat-slick faces of Miguel and Jieun as they stood on the platform, panting but triumphant. Their bodies bore the marks of battle — bruises blooming across their skin, their muscles trembling with exhaustion — but their expressions were alive, electric with the kind of euphoria that only comes from defying the odds.

The announcer's voice rang out, triumphant and jubilant, carrying over the din of the crowd. "Incredible performance from Miyagi-do's Miguel Diaz and Jieun Kang! Their triumph sends Miyagi-do to the next round!"

The crowd erupted, a wave of cheers and whistles cascading down from the stands. Even the losing Miyagi-Do teammates, who had been slumped on the floor moments ago, now surged toward the platform with renewed energy. They scrambled up to meet Miguel and Jieun, their hands outstretched, their faces alight with admiration and gratitude.

Miguel was the first to be enveloped in hugs and backslaps, his grin wide and boyish as he let himself be swept up in the celebration. Jieun, however, stood apart for a moment, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, her eyes scanning the crowd as if unsure of how to respond to the sudden flood of attention. But when the first teammate reached her, Devon, she leaned over to receive her hug, her rigid posture softening just slightly.

Then it happened — her lips curved upward, tentatively at first, but then fully. A smile.

Tory froze where she stood, her breath catching in her throat. She hadn't seen that smile in a while, not since the night everything had fallen apart. It was a rare thing, that smile — a glimpse of the Jieun who used to laugh freely, who used to trust easily, who used to look at Tory like she was someone worth believing in.

And now, that smile wasn't for her.

The ache in Tory's chest was sharp and sudden, like a knife between her ribs. She clenched her fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she forced herself to look away. But her gaze found Kwon instead, standing beside her with his arms crossed, his expression one of practiced disdain.

Kwon scoffed, the sound low and dismissive, though his eyes lingered on the platform longer than he intended. "What's the big deal? They got lucky. It's not like they're unbeatable."

Tory didn't respond. She couldn't. The lump in her throat made speech impossible, and the burn in her eyes told her that if she said anything now, her voice would betray her.

Instead, she let her gaze drift back to Jieun, who was now surrounded by her teammates, their cheers and congratulations washing over her like a tide. For a moment, Jieun glanced out at the crowd, her eyes scanning the faces in the stands as if searching for someone.

Tory's heart leapt — just for a second, just enough to sting — before she reminded herself that it wasn't her Jieun was looking for. It never would be again.

"Pathetic," Kwon muttered, more to himself than to her, though his voice was loud enough to break through her thoughts.

Tory turned to him sharply, her expression hardening. "What's your problem?"

"My problem," Kwon said, his tone dripping with condescension, "is that this whole thing is a joke. Look at them. They think they've won something. But they're just delaying the inevitable."

Tory didn't argue. She couldn't. Not when the image of Jieun's smile was still burned into her mind, a cruel reminder of what she'd lost.

"Let's go," Kwon said, already turning away. "We've got better things to do than watch this circus."

Tory hesitated, her feet rooted to the spot, her gaze still fixed on Jieun. Her laughter reached her ears then, light and unguarded, and Tory swallowed hard before following Kwon out of the arena.

THE HOTEL ROOM FELT IMPOSSIBLY small, its walls closing in around them like a trap. The soft hum of the air conditioner was drowned out by Miguel's pacing — sharp, deliberate steps that made the floor creak under his weight.

He moved from the window to the door and back again, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his face a mask of anxiety that was unraveling by the second. Jieun sat cross-legged on the bed, watching him with a mixture of helplessness and worry, her fingers playing absentmindedly with the hem of her sweatshirt. She wanted to say something — anything — that might calm him down, but the weight of the news had robbed her of words.

Johnny's call had come just twenty minutes ago, but it felt like hours. Carmen was in the hospital. There was something wrong with the baby and Rosa's voice had trembled as she relayed the news, enough to send Miguel spiraling. He'd barely spoken since, his movements frantic, his thoughts seemingly scattered in a dozen directions.

Jieun tried again. "Miguel..." Her voice was soft, hesitant, like she was afraid to break him further.

He shook his head sharply, cutting her off. "I can't stay here, Jieun." His voice was thick, trembling at the edges. "I can't stay here when my mom's at the hospital. What if — what if something happens? What if —"

"She's going to be okay," Jieun interrupted, though she wasn't sure if she believed it herself. The words felt hollow in her mouth, but she needed to say them, needed to give him something to hold onto. "Your mom is strong. She's going to be okay."

He stopped pacing long enough to look at her, his dark eyes glassy with unshed tears. "You don't know that," he said quietly, his voice cracking. "I need to be there. I need to be with her."

Jieun nodded slowly, her heart aching for him. Of course, he needed to go. There was no question about it. But her mind was already racing ahead, trying to untangle the mess his departure would leave behind. Without Miguel, their chances at the tournament would plummet. He wasn't just their strongest fighter — he was their anchor, the person everyone looked to for strength and guidance. Losing him felt like losing the foundation beneath their feet.

She hesitated before asking the question that had been nagging at her. "What about Robby?"

Miguel's head snapped up, and a flicker of annoyance passed over his face. "What about him?"

"He's Johnny's son," Jieun said, choosing her words carefully. "Doesn't he... doesn't he need to go too?"

Miguel froze, his jaw tightening at the mention of his stepbrother. He turned away from her, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Robby has to stay," he said firmly. "He's the captain. He can't leave."

Jieun frowned, her worry deepening. "But he's technically your stepbrother. Don't you think —"

"He has to stay," Miguel interrupted, his voice rising slightly. "We need him here, Jiji. If he leaves too, we're done. There's no chance."

She bit her lip, her fingers curling into the fabric of her sweatshirt. "But if you leave... what happens to the team? How are we supposed to —"

Miguel stopped pacing abruptly and turned to face her. His expression softened, and for a moment, the tension in the room seemed to ease. He crossed the small space between them and sat down on the edge of the bed, his weight making the mattress dip.

"You'll figure it out," Miguel said firmly, cutting her off. He stood and moved to sit beside her on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. "You're strong. You and Sam and Robby — you'll keep them in check."

Jieun snorted, shaking her head. "I'm not the captain, Miguel. That's Sam and Robby's job, remember? Why should I lead anyone? That's not my responsibility."

Miguel sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "You're the strongest fighter we've got after me. Everyone knows that."

"That doesn't make me the captain," Jieun snapped, her tone sharper now.

He frowned, his brows furrowing. "Why not? You could be if you wanted to."

"No, Sam earned her spot." she said, exasperation creeping into her voice. "I came here to fight. That's it."

"Fighting isn't enough," Miguel said quietly, his tone serious now. "Not anymore. The team needs someone to step up, Jieun. If it's not you, then who?"

"Sam," Jieun said immediately. "Or Robby. They're the captains. Let them deal with it."

Miguel shook his head. "You've seen how things have been going. Sam's doing the best she can, and Robby's... I don't know what's going on with him, but he's not himself. They need you, Jieun. The whole team needs you."

Jieun scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I'm not going to magically turn into some inspirational leader just because you're leaving."

Miguel stared at her, his expression a mixture of frustration and disappointment.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching between them like a fragile thread. Jieun could feel the weight of his words pressing down on her, the enormity of what he was asking of her. She wanted to argue, to push back, to tell him he was wrong. But deep down, a small part of her wondered if he was right.

He sighed heavily, the weight of everything pressing down on his shoulders. He looked at Jieun, her face partially hidden behind the pillow she clutched like a shield. The hotel room, with its generic beige walls and faint scent of industrial cleaning supplies, suddenly felt like it was closing in on him.

"It should've been us," he said, his voice low but clear, breaking the heavy silence between them.

Jieun's head snapped up, her brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

Miguel met her gaze, his dark eyes filled with something she couldn't quite name — frustration, regret, maybe even longing. "It should've been us. You and me, as captains. We're the strongest fighters. We understand what it takes to win. But instead..." He trailed off, shaking his head, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Jieun felt the words hit her like a physical blow. For a moment, she couldn't speak, her chest tightening with a mix of emotions she didn't have the time or energy to sort through.

For a moment, they just sat there, the weight of their conversation hanging heavy in the air. Jieun wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that she could be the person he saw in her. But the fear lingered, gnawing at the edges of her resolve.

Finally, Miguel stood, his hand lingering on her shoulder for a moment before he let it fall. "I have to go," he said, his voice tinged with regret. "But promise me you'll think about it. Okay?"

Jieun nodded reluctantly, her gaze fixed on the floor. "Okay."

As he turned to leave, she called out to him, her voice soft but steady. "Wheezie?"

He stopped, looking back at her. "Yeah?"

"Be careful," she said.

He smiled, a flicker of warmth in his eyes despite the tension that still hung between them. "You too, Mousie."

And then he was gone, leaving Jieun alone in the quiet room, the echoes of their conversation replaying in her mind. She sat there for a long time, her thoughts swirling like a storm, trying to make sense of everything Miguel had said.

Deep down, she knew he was right. But accepting that truth was another matter entirely.

THE BAR WAS ALIVE WITH SOUND and color, its small, dimly lit interior glowing with golden lights that reflected off walls adorned with mosaics of deep reds and blues. The air carried the mingled scents of grilled chorizo, spiced almonds, and freshly baked bread, underscored by the faint tang of spilled sangria.

Some of the Miyagi-Do team occupied a corner booth, their laughter blending with the steady hum of conversations and the rhythmic strum of a Spanish guitar from a live performer near the bar.

Jieun sat tucked into the booth, her back pressed against the cool leather cushion. Her Dr. Pepper sat in front of her, its surface rippling slightly each time the table jostled from someone leaning too hard against it. Devon sat opposite her, a half-empty glass of lemonade in her hand, her sharp eyes fixed on Jieun with an intensity that made it clear she had something to say.

Her gaze kept drifting to the table by the window, where Sam and Robby sat angled toward each other, their heads close as they spoke in hushed tones. Sam's hands moved animatedly as she spoke, her gestures fluid and precise. Robby listened with a furrowed brow, occasionally nodding, though his gaze seemed heavier than usual, weighted with thought.

It wasn't their proximity that bothered Jieun — not really. It was the way Sam kept glancing over, her gaze darting to Jieun like a tiny, deliberate hook that reeled her back into that moment in the locker room. The memory clawed at her. She hadn't meant to say what she said, not exactly, but the words had come out before she could stop them, sharp and cutting in the way only something half-true could be. And now, watching Sam's expression flicker each time her eyes landed on her, Jieun couldn't help but wonder if Robby had brought it up.

"You know," Devon began, pulling Jieun back to the present. Her tone was light, teasing, but her eyes were sharp. "You could at least pretend to care when someone thanks you."

Jieun blinked, her fingers tightening slightly around her glass. "What?"

Devon leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table as she fixed Jieun with an incredulous look. "I said thank you. For winning it for us. You know, back on the platform? Ring any bells?"

Jieun shifted uncomfortably, her eyes flickering to her drink. "It wasn't just me," she muttered. "It was a group effort."

Devon scoffed, not unkindly, but with the exasperation of someone who had heard the same excuse one too many times. "Oh, come on. You and Miguel basically carried us through that entire thing. The rest of us were just there for moral support."

Jieun shook her head, her voice firm. "That's not true."

"Okay, fine," Devon said, raising her hands in mock surrender. "You want to be humble about it, sure. But I'm not letting you off the hook that easy."

She leaned closer, her voice dropping slightly, her teasing tone replaced with something more earnest. "You were amazing out there. Seriously. I don't think I've ever seen anyone fight like that. You didn't just win. You made it look... effortless."

Jieun's heart clenched at the praise, but she didn't let it show. She forced a small, tight smile, nodding as she swirled her drink again. "Thanks," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

But Devon wasn't done. "No, I mean it," she insisted, her gaze piercing. "Do you even realize how good you are? Like, actually realize it?"

Jieun didn't answer right away. Instead, she glanced back toward the table, where Sam was now laughing softly at something Robby had said. Her laughter was warm and unguarded, the kind of sound that could soften even the hardest edges of a room. But it only made the knot in Jieun's chest tighten.

She tore her gaze away, focusing instead on the condensation trailing down her glass. "I just did what I had to do," she said finally, her voice flat.

Devon sighed, sitting back against the booth with a frustrated shake of her head. "You're impossible, you know that?"

Jieun opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by the arrival of Demetri and Eli, who slid into the booth on either side of Devon, their faces lit with triumphant grins.

"You will not believe what we just ordered," Demetri announced, holding up a finger as if to punctuate his point.

"Pulpo a la gallega," Eli added, his grin widening. "Octopus, baby. We're branching out."

Devon groaned, rolling her eyes. "Of course you are. You guys are the reason people have food poisoning stories."

"It's called being adventurous," Eli retorted, crossing his arms. "You should try it sometime."

As the three of them bantered, Jieun felt herself retreating into the background, her earlier conversation with Devon lingering in her mind like an echo. She swirled her drink absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting back to the platform earlier that day, to the way she'd felt in those final moments when it was just her and Miguel against the last two fighters from Dublin Thunder.

She remembered the way the crowd had roared, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, the singular focus that had driven her to fight with everything she had. She'd felt strong, capable, alive in a way she hadn't in a long time. But she'd also felt something else — a weight, a pressure that came with knowing the entire team's hopes had rested on her shoulders in that moment.

The waiter arrived a few minutes later with a platter of tapas, the smell of grilled seafood and garlic filling the air. As the others dug in, Jieun found herself watching them, their laughter and easy camaraderie a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind.

She didn't know why Devon's words had gotten under her skin the way they had. Or maybe she did, and she just didn't want to admit it.

The warmth of the space felt stifling to Robby as he sat across from Sam, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. The flickering candlelight on the table between them cast shadows that danced across her face, highlighting her furrowed brow as she stirred the remnants of her iced tea with a straw.

Robby sighed heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. His eyes were distant, his voice low as he asked, "Did you talk to Miguel before he left?"

Sam shrugged, her lips pressing into a thin line. "For, like, thirty seconds," she replied, her tone clipped. Then, her shoulders loosened, and she leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table. "He was with Jiji after Johnny told him about his mom. They were in his room for a while."

Robby raised an eyebrow, but the expression was more contemplative than suspicious. "Makes sense."

Sam hesitated, her gaze flicking briefly toward Jieun, who was seated in a booth across the room with Devon and Eli. Her posture was relaxed, one hand outstretched as Eli tried to coax her into taking a bite of something he held between chopsticks. A laugh escaped Jieun, soft but genuine, and Sam's jaw tightened imperceptibly before she looked back at Robby.

"Yeah," Sam said, drawing the word out slightly, as if testing its weight. "But don't you think it's a little... I don't know, weird? They've been spending a lot of time together lately. Like, more than usual."

Robby frowned, shaking his head. "I don't know, Sam. They're friends. Best friends. Miguel's probably leaning on her because he needs someone right now. What's so weird about that?"

Sam exhaled sharply, clearly unsatisfied with his response, but she didn't push further. Instead, she shifted the conversation, her tone softening as she asked, "How are you feeling?"

Robby tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before dropping his gaze to meet hers. "Not great," he admitted. His voice was tight, tinged with frustration. "I've just been screwing everything up since Kwon got into my head."

Sam studied him, her eyes searching his face for something she couldn't quite find. "You've been doing fine," she said cautiously, but even she didn't sound convinced.

Robby snorted, the sound bitter. "Fine?" he echoed. "No, Sam. Not fine. I haven't won a single match. And you know what makes it worse?"

He paused, glancing toward Jieun again. She was laughing now, shaking her head as Eli continued to nudge the chopsticks toward her mouth. Her hands were out in front of her, palms up in mock surrender, but her eyes sparkled with a rare lightness that Robby couldn't help but notice.

"It's her," he said finally, his voice quieter but no less intense. "She has no idea, Sam. And she's fighting better than any of us. Better than me, for sure. And she's not even trying to be a leader. She's just... doing it."

Sam followed his gaze, her expression unreadable. "she's always been good," she said after a moment.

Robby shook his head. "No, it's more than that. She's not just good. She's... solid. Grounded. She's in her element out there, and it's obvious. Meanwhile, I can't even keep my head straight. I'm supposed to be the captain, Sam, and I'm the one falling apart."

Sam looked down at her glass, her fingers tracing the rim. She didn't argue with him this time. Instead, she asked softly, "Do you think what she said in the locker room was true?"

Robby's jaw tightened, and he didn't respond immediately.

Sam pressed on. "She said the captains were too busy falling apart to lead us."

Robby sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. "Yeah," he admitted. "She wasn't wrong. I mean, you've been doing okay. And me? I've been useless."

"You're not useless," Sam said, though the words felt hollow even as she said them.

"Really?" Robby shot back, his voice tinged with frustration. "Because it feels like I am. Kwon got in my head, and I haven't been able to shake it. And you... You've been so focused on holding everything together that you're barely holding yourself together."

Sam's eyes flashed, and she straightened in her seat. "I'm doing the best I can." she said sharply.

"I know," Robby said quickly, his tone softening.

Sam's jaw tightened, and for a moment, she looked like she might argue. But then her shoulders slumped, and she looked away. "Maybe she's right," she said finally. "But what are we supposed to do about it? It's not like we can just magically fix everything."

Robby leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "We've got to figure it out," he said simply. "Because if we don't, we're done. And I don't know about you, but I'm not ready to go home yet."

Sam nodded slowly. Then she hesitated, her lips pressed together in a thin line as if holding back words she wasn't sure she wanted to say. Finally, she leaned in slightly, her voice low enough to avoid being overheard. "Are you going to tell her about Kwon?"

The question hung between them, heavy and charged. Robby's first instinct was to laugh it off, to deflect with some casual remark that would steer the conversation elsewhere. But the weight in Sam's voice and the earnestness in her eyes pinned him in place. He shrugged, trying to mask the turmoil brewing inside him.

"I don't know," he admitted, his tone flat but edged with frustration. "What am I even supposed to say? 'Hey, by the way, Kwon's been messing with my head and that's why I can't seem to get a hit in'? It sounds stupid."

Sam frowned. "It's not stupid if it's the truth."

Robby exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "It's not her I don't trust," he said finally, the words tumbling out faster than he intended. "I know she wants to be with me. It's him, Sam. It's Kwon. I don't trust him as far as I can throw him."

Sam tilted her head, studying him with a mix of curiosity and concern. "Why? What do you think he's trying to do?"

Robby's jaw clenched, his thoughts racing as he tried to articulate the unease that had been gnawing at him since the tournament began. "I don't know," he said after a moment. "That's what terrifies me. I don't know what his game is. But every time I see him near her, it's like..."

He trailed off, his hands tightening into fists on the table. His gaze drifted across the bar, landing on Jieun's booth. She was still with Eli and Devon, though now Devon was gesturing animatedly, and Jieun's attention seemed split between listening and stealing glances at the others scattered around the bar. Robby's chest tightened as his eyes scanned the room for Kwon, half-expecting to see him lurking in the shadows, watching Jieun with that insufferable smirk of his.

When Kwon wasn't there, Robby forced himself to relax, though his fists remained balled. "It's like my brain just... snaps. Every time I see him near her, I want to rip him apart. But then, on the mat, when it really matters, I can't do anything. I look at her, and she's so focused, so locked in, and then I see him, and it's like he knows exactly how to get to me. He smirks, and it's all I can think about. And then I lose."

Sam nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. "So it's not Jieun that's distracting you. It's Kwon."

Robby met her gaze, the vulnerability in his eyes startling even to himself. "Yeah. It's Kwon. And I know it's stupid, but I can't shake it. I keep thinking, what if he's trying to mess with her too? What if he gets in her head the way he's gotten in mine? I can't let that happen."

Sam leaned forward, her voice softening. "Do you think he's actually trying to mess with her, or are you just... projecting?"

Robby hesitated, the question slicing through his thoughts like a blade. Was it possible that he was overthinking this, letting his own insecurities color his perception of Kwon's actions? Maybe. But the alternative — that Kwon really was targeting Jieun in some way — wasn't something he could ignore.

"I don't know," he admitted again, his voice quieter this time. "But I can't risk it. If he is messing with her, I have to stop him. And if he's not..."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "If he's not?"

Robby's lips pressed into a thin line. "Then I still have to get him out of my head. And there's only one way to do that."

Sam's eyes widened slightly, her concern sharpening. "Robby, no. You can't just —"

"What?" Robby cut in, his voice hardening. "Fight him? Why not? He's been begging for it since the second he showed up. You've seen the way he looks at me, the way he looks at all of us. He thinks he's untouchable."

Sam shook her head, her voice firm. "And you think fighting him is going to solve anything? It's just going to make things worse, for you and for us."

Robby leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "So what am I supposed to do, Sam? Just let him keep getting in my head? Let him keep looking at me like he's already won?"

Sam sighed, her frustration palpable. "No. But fighting him isn't the answer. You need to focus on what actually matters — the tournament, the team. Let Kwon play his games. If you don't let him get to you, he loses."

Robby stared at her, his expression unreadable. He knew she was right, on some level. But the anger boiling in his chest, the burning need to confront Kwon and put an end to whatever game he was playing, refused to be quelled.

"Maybe," he said finally, his tone clipped. "But if he crosses a line, I'm not just going to stand there and take it."

Sam sighed again, shaking her head. "Just... think about what you're doing, Robby. For Jiji's sake, if not for yours."

Robby nodded, though his thoughts remained unresolved. But the tension in his chest lingered, a knot of uncertainty and anger that refused to untangle itself.

The evening hummed along, the energy in Teo's Tapas Bar shifting with the hour. Conversations grew louder, the music pulsed deeper, and the laughter of the patrons interwove with the occasional clink of glasses. The Miyagi-Do team had found their rhythm in the chaos, their camaraderie a patchwork of teasing banter and shared warmth.

Jieun watched from her booth as Sam stood, murmured something to Robby, and left the table. Robby remained, his gaze distant, swirling his glass as if searching for answers in its depths. She hadn't spoken to him much since their locker room confrontation, but now seemed like the right moment.

"Excuse me," Jieun said, slipping out of the booth. Devon and Eli barely noticed her departure, too busy arguing about the merits of pineapple on savory food, but Demetri caught her movement and raised an eyebrow. She waved him off with a small smile and started weaving her way through the crowd toward Robby's table.

She didn't get far.

A hand grabbed her wrist, firm and sudden, pulling her back. Instinct took over. Jieun twisted her body and yanked the hand closer, bending it at an angle that made the owner yelp in pain.

"Easy, easy!" came a voice, pained but familiar.

Jieun froze, recognizing the face that accompanied the voice — Kwon. His smirk persisted even as he grimaced, his dark eyes gleaming with something that wasn't quite apology.

"Seriously?" Jieun said, her voice dripping with irritation. She released his hand with a sharp shove. "What the hell are you doing?"

Kwon shook his wrist out, his smirk growing wider as if he were enjoying this exchange far too much. "Just trying to ask you for a dance," he said smoothly.

Jieun crossed her arms, her stance rigid. "A dance? What, you think this is some kind of high school prom?"

He tilted his head, his expression entirely too casual. "You don't need to make it weird, Jieun. Just a little fun between teammates, that's all."

Her glare was ice. "Teammates?" she repeated, her voice sharp. "That's just you being a creep."

Kwon chuckled, clearly unbothered by her cutting words. "Relax. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Thought I'd take a chance."

"You're lucky I didn't break your wrist." she echoed, her voice rising slightly.

He stepped closer, his tone dropping into something that was meant to be charming but came off as rehearsed. "You've got fire, Jieun. I like that. It's part of why I wanted to talk to you."

Jieun rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. "Wow, what an honor. I'll pass."

Kwon leaned against the nearby table, his smirk still firmly in place. "Why so cold? You've been killing it out there. Thought you might want to celebrate a little."

"Celebrate you making everything worse for my dojo?" she shot back, her words cutting like glass.

For a moment, Kwon's expression faltered, but he recovered quickly, his smirk returning with a sharper edge. "You're quick with the insults. You always like keeping people at arm's length, or is that just me?"

"It's just you," Jieun snapped. "Because you make it impossible to trust you. You think I don't notice the way you're always stirring things up? The little smirks, the comments? You're not a teammate, Kwon. You're a liability."

He chuckled again, low and dismissive. "You wound me, Kang Jieun. Really. But if I'm so awful, why are you even talking to me right now?"

The noise of the bar pulsed around them, a blend of laughter, clinking glasses, and music that felt almost too loud. Jieun froze at Kwon's words, her eyes narrowing in frustration, but before she could form a reply, her gaze flickered to Robby.

He was at the bar now, his broad shoulders hunched as he downed a drink in a few hurried gulps. She couldn't quite make out what it was — something amber, maybe whiskey — but the urgency with which he drank it was enough to send a pang of worry through her chest. Robby never rushed through anything, let alone drinks.

Kwon caught her distraction. He tilted his head, his smirk widening as he followed her gaze. "Ah," he said smoothly, his voice cutting through the din like a knife. "I see what's happening here. You're not really talking to me — you're watching him."

Jieun snapped her attention back to him, her jaw tightening. "Don't flatter yourself," she said sharply. "I'm here because you grabbed me."

"And yet, you're still here," he countered, leaning in slightly, his tone drenched in mock sincerity. "I must've done something right."

Jieun crossed her arms over her chest, her stance defensive but rooted. She didn't need to look at Robby again to know his mood had likely soured further, and that only fueled the irritation simmering beneath her skin. "If you think I'm sticking around because I like you, you're delusional. I just don't want to cause a scene."

Robby had finished his drink and set the glass down with a little more force than necessary, the sound barely audible over the noise of the bar. She could see the tension in his posture, the way his hand gripped the edge of the counter. And then he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes finding hers with a fleeting but unmistakable weight.

Her heart clenched, but before she could fully process the moment, Kwon shifted closer, drawing her attention back to him. He was far too comfortable, leaning against the edge of a nearby table, his proximity casual but deliberate.

"See something you like?" Kwon teased, his voice low and edged with mischief.

Jieun's glare sharpened, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "You're an idiot."

"I've been called worse," he said with a shrug. "But let's not pretend this is just about me. You've got something on your mind, don't you?"

"You don't know anything about what's on my mind," she snapped, her voice cold.

"Don't I?" he pressed, his smirk never faltering. Before she could respond, he leaned in closer, his movement so subtle and calculated that it caught her off guard. His hand brushed against hers, a touch so fleeting it could have been accidental, but the deliberate glint in his eyes told her otherwise.

"Kwon," she said warningly, her voice dropping to a low growl.

But Kwon's smirk only deepened, his gaze darting over her shoulder for a brief moment. "Looks like someone's not too happy," he murmured, his tone carrying a hint of satisfaction.

Jieun followed his gaze just in time to see Robby shove his stool back and stride toward the door. His expression was stormy, his steps quick and purposeful. He didn't even glance back as he pushed the door open, the sound of it slamming shut echoing through the bar.

Zara followed close behind, her expression unreadable as she slipped out after him. Jieun felt a pang of unease, her instincts screaming at her to follow, but before she could take a step, Kwon's hand closed around her wrist again.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his voice low but firm.

"Let go," she said sharply, her patience worn thin.

But Kwon didn't budge. His grip wasn't tight, but it was enough to hold her in place, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach twist uncomfortably.

"You can't fix everything, you know," he said, his tone softer now, almost coaxing, and in Korean. "Sometimes people need to work things out on their own."

"And sometimes people need to stay out of things that don't concern them," she shot back, her voice cold. Kwon tilted his head, his smirk returning but with a different edge this time — one that felt sharper, more calculated. "Stay out of my way."

He watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a small shrug, he stepped back, his hands raised in mock surrender. "Whatever you say." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper.

Jieun didn't dignify him with a response. She turned on her heel and marched toward the door, her heart pounding in her chest. But Kwon's words lingered, his smirk etched into her mind like a brand she couldn't quite shake.

Outside, the cool night air hit her like a balm, but her worry for Robby weighed heavier than ever. The echoes of the slamming door and Kwon's taunts intertwined in her thoughts, leaving her with a gnawing sense of unease she couldn't quite dispel.

The streets of Barcelona were alive with an energy that was both invigorating and oppressive. Jieun moved through the throngs of people with a singular focus, her eyes scanning faces and figures with a frantic urgency that belied her otherwise calm exterior. The city around her glittered with its nighttime splendor — golden streetlights spilling warmth onto cobblestones, the occasional burst of laughter from open-air cafes, and the hum of conversations carried by the breeze. It was a scene of beauty, but for Jieun, it was nothing more than a backdrop to her growing frustration.

Her heart drummed in her chest as she navigated narrow alleyways and wide, bustling plazas, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. She had called Robby three times already, the unanswered rings stretching into an empty void that only deepened her sense of unease.

She told herself it was fine, that he just needed space, but the thought of Zara's hurried exit behind him gnawed at her resolve like a persistent mosquito bite.

Why Zara?

The question repeated itself in her mind like a broken mantra, each iteration more pointed than the last. What business did Zara have with Robby, following him out into the night like that? Jieun could feel the sour pang of jealousy creeping into her chest, though she quickly tamped it down, dismissing it as irrational. Still, it irked her to her very core, the unanswered question of why her mingling with the persistent worry of where was he?

Her shoes clicked against the cobblestones as she walked, the sound punctuating her thoughts. She tried to steady herself, to take in the city around her in the hope that its charm might distract her, even for a moment.

Barcelona at night was a dreamscape — arched windows glowing with warm light, the occasional cascade of bougainvillea spilling over wrought-iron balconies, and the gentle murmur of the Mediterranean breeze weaving through the streets.

In another life, she might have stopped to admire the artistry of the world around her. The intricate mosaic work embedded into the walls, the muted chatter of locals sharing stories over glasses of red wine, the way the lamplight painted soft halos around the figures moving through the streets — it was all impossibly lovely. But now, it felt like a cruel joke, a beautiful world mocking her in the midst of her turmoil.

She passed a fountain in the center of a plaza, its waters catching the light in a way that made it seem almost alive, shimmering like liquid gold. For a moment, she paused, her breath catching in her throat as the night pressed in around her. She dialed his number again, the familiar tone ringing in her ear with a maddening sense of hope and dread.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

By the time it clicked to voicemail, she had already lowered the phone, her grip tightening as frustration mounted. She wanted to scream, to demand answers from the universe, but the weight of the city's quiet judgment held her back. Instead, she pressed on, her steps quicker now, her search narrowing in scope.

She found herself retracing their steps from earlier in the evening, her mind replaying the events with an obsessive clarity. The way Robby had sat at the bar, his shoulders tense as if holding the weight of the world. The sound of the door slamming behind him as he left. The image of Zara slipping out after him, her expression unreadable but purposeful. It all played back like a film reel, each frame sharpening her agitation.

At one point, she stopped to catch her breath, leaning against a lamppost as she looked down the empty stretch of a side street. The night air was cooler now, carrying with it the faint scent of salt and citrus. She thought about calling again, but her thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating. How many times was too many? Was he ignoring her on purpose?

She didn't want to think about that.

Instead, she forced herself to move again, her steps leading her away from the plaza and back toward the hotel. Her shoulders sagged with the weight of her search, her earlier determination now tempered with a quiet resignation. She tried to convince herself that he would be there, waiting in the room they shared, his brooding presence a comfort in its familiarity.

The walk back was quieter, the streets thinning as the hour grew later. The hotel loomed ahead, its façade bathed in soft, ambient light. Jieun crossed the threshold with a sense of reluctant hope, her heart pounding in her chest as she made her way toward the elevator. The ride up was a blur, the soft hum of the machinery a poor substitute for the answers she so desperately sought.

When she reached the door to their room, she paused, her hand hovering over the handle. The quiet stretched around her, oppressive in its stillness, as she finally pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room greeted her with an emptiness that felt almost cruel.

She let out a slow breath, her shoulders slumping as she closed the door behind her. The bed was untouched, the air still carrying the faint scent of Robby's cologne mixed with the sterile cleanliness of the hotel. Jieun stood there for a moment, her mind racing through possibilities, but no conclusions came.

Instead, she sank onto the edge of the bed, her hands resting in her lap as she stared at the floor. The city lights outside painted shifting patterns on the walls, a silent reminder of the world continuing on without her. For the first time that night, she allowed herself to sit still, to feel the weight of her worry and frustration settle over her like a heavy blanket.

And still, she waited.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

guys this ch took me forever to write bc i rewrote it like 3 times

the first idea was to have jieun apologize for what she said in the locker room but then there'd be no conflict ;kinda;

the next idea was that jiji just didn't go to the bar and she explored Barcelona herself and then she meets kwon and they become friends but i was like... nah

and then my last idea was to have zara be into jiji but i needed jiji like... mad as fuck before ep10 brawl u know and i knew that zara getting in the way of her and robby was a big need

anyways now that this ch is over i can't wait to start on the next one!!! can u believe im already on ep 9 like omg.....

which reminds me i need to catch up on so many fics and i wonder if any have already finish pt2 already

or maybe im actually crazy asf like omg im updating so fast

but its the weekend and i have a day off on monday so i really think i might finish all of pt 2 by tuesday !!

much love,