𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄. all the worlds a stage

THE MORNING SUN HUNG LOW IN THE sky, casting a golden hue over the neighborhood as Jieun ran. The air was crisp and fresh, filled with the scent of dew-kissed grass and blooming flowers. Each breath felt like a renewal, a promise of the day's potential. The lawns were dotted with sparkling droplets, remnants of the night's cool embrace, and the occasional bird dipped down to drink from them, their feathers shimmering in the sunlight.

Birdsong filled the air, a harmonious symphony that accompanied her. Sparrows and robins flitted about, their movements quick and purposeful, as if they, too, were eager to start the day. She let the gentle breeze sweep and ruffle her hair bringing with it the earthy smell of damp soil and fresh foliage.

She took the familiar route back to her home, passing by houses that slowly awakened to the morning light. Curtains were drawn back, and windows were opened to let in the refreshing air. Neighbors waved as they walked their dogs or tended to their gardens, and Jieun waved back, feeling a sense of belonging in this small community.

As she turned onto the main road, she noticed the morning mist lifting from the fields, revealing a patchwork of greenery and wildflowers. The delicate petals of daisies and buttercups nodded gently in the breeze, while tall grasses swayed in rhythmic unison. It was a scene that could have been plucked from a painting, serene and timeless.

Jieun's mind suddenly wandered back to Kim Daeun, the weight of her words lingering despite the beauty around her. "We are cut from the same cloth." The statement gnawed at her, a persistent echo that refused to be silenced.

The only person who might have answers was her grandmother, but she wasn't exactly a reliable source of comfort or information.

She slowed her pace as she approached her home, feeling the familiar tightness in her chest as the sight of the house came into view. The house, despite its modern exterior, carried an air of rigidity, a reflection of its most constant inhabitant — her grandmother, Jimin.

Pushing the front door open, Jieun was greeted by an unexpected aroma wafting through the air. It was the distinct, comforting smell of a traditional Korean breakfast. She paused in the entryway, curiosity piqued despite herself. Stepping into the kitchen, she saw the dining table adorned with bowls of kimchi, rice, and an assortment of banchan. Her grandmother, Jimin, sat at the head of the table, her posture as straight and unyielding as ever.

The surface was an elegant expanse of glass and marble, reflecting the morning light that streamed through the large bay windows. The table was flanked by high-backed, ornately carved chairs, upholstered in a rich, velvety fabric that spoke of a time when her mother's taste in decor had been unrivaled in its opulence. She traced the delicate veins of the marble with her fingertips, feeling the cool, smooth surface beneath her skin.

Jieun rolled her eyes, a reflexive response to the sight of the old woman. They had not spoken properly since their last argument, their interactions reduced to terse, snide comments. It was an unspoken agreement between them — silence was better than confrontation.

Jimin looked up as Jieun entered, a tentative greeting on her lips. "Jieun, I made —"

"No thanks," she cut her off sharply, her voice cold. "We both know we're not fans of each other. It's been nice not speaking to you."

Jimin's expression hardened instantly, her eyes narrowing. She slammed her fists on the table with surprising force for someone her age, the sound reverberating through the room. "Sit," she demanded, her voice a low growl.

Jieun's first instinct was to walk away, but something in her grandmother's tone made her pause. She clenched her fists at her sides, her heart pounding. With deliberate slowness, she pulled out a chair and sat down, her eyes never leaving Jimin's.

The tension in the room was palpable, the silence thick and oppressive. Jieun could feel her grandmother's anger radiating toward her, but beneath it, she sensed something else—desperation, perhaps even fear. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, one that Jieun was unprepared for.

Jimin took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as she placed them on the table. "We need to talk, Jieun," she said, her voice softer now, though no less intense. "This silence between us, it's... it's not right. We are family."

Jieun felt a pang of guilt, quickly smothered by her lingering resentment. "Family?" she echoed bitterly. "You mean the family where you control everything and everyone? Where no one can breathe without your permission?"

Jimin flinched, the words striking deep. She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again, as if searching for the right words. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "Do you think you're invincible? Why can't you understand what this path can cost you."

The room seemed to shrink around them, the walls pressing in as Jieun and her grandmother faced each other across the table. The silence stretched, heavy and expectant. Jieun could feel the anger simmering beneath her skin, the familiar heat rising up at the mere thought of what was coming.

Jieun's temper flared, her face flushing hot with indignation. "Why are you still clinging to some ancient grudge that has nothing to do with me?"

Jimin's eyes blazed, her hands slamming down on the table again. "I am trying to save you from the same fate! But you don't care about that, do you? You're so wrapped up in your own pride that you can't see the danger."

Jieun's fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms. "This helped me cope with everything. But you'd rather see me miserable than understand that!"

"Misery?" Jimin spat, her voice dripping with disdain. "You don't know what misery is. You haven't lived long enough to understand real suffering. I lost my husband, try raising a child alone, try carrying that burden every single day!"

"You don't think I carry a burden?" Jieun's voice cracked with emotion, her eyes blazing. "I lost both my parents, and you were no help! All you did was make things worse with your controlling ways. I had to find my own way, and karate gave me that. But you can't see past your own bitterness to understand that."

Jimin's face contorted with rage, her voice rising to a shout. "You are just like your her, stubborn and reckless!"

Her grandmother's face was flushed with anger, but there was something else in her eyes, something deeper. Jieun latched onto it, the fury in her chest giving way to confusion. "Her?" She asked, her voice lower now, tinged with curiosity. "What do you mean, 'her'?"

Jimin's eyes widened, the realization of what she had said dawning on her like a cold wave. She opened her mouth, then closed it, her face pale and stricken. She turned away, but Jieun pressed on, sensing an opening, a crack in the impenetrable wall that had always stood between them.

"Who are you talking about?" Her voice was insistent, her anger momentarily forgotten. "Who is 'her'?"

For a moment, Jimin seemed frozen, her back to Jieun, her hands clenched at her sides. Then she turned slowly, her eyes filled with a haunted look that Jieun had never seen before.

"Kim Daeun," Jieun said, the name coming to her suddenly, as if plucked from the depths of her memory. "Is that who you mean?"

Jimin's face went even paler, the color draining from her cheeks. She looked as if she might collapse under the weight of Jieun's words. "How do you know that name?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Jieun stepped closer, her heart pounding. "Doesn't matter."

Jimin sank into a chair, her hands trembling. She looked up at Jieun, her eyes filled with a sorrow that seemed to span decades. "Daeun was my daughter," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jieun felt as if the ground had shifted beneath her feet and Jimin's eyes filled with tears, her voice choked with emotion. "She defied me, just like you are doing now."

"And what did you do?"

Jimin took a deep breath, her eyes distant as she looked back through the years. "Daeun was stubborn, headstrong. Just like you. She loved to watch the students practice karate. Despite my warnings, despite my rules, she pursued it in secret. She thought she could hide it from me, but I found out. I told her she had to stop, that it was too dangerous, but she refused. She said it was her life, her choice."

Jieun watched her grandmother, the older woman's face etched with pain and regret. "I was so angry. So I gave her an ultimatum: leave karate or leave this family. She chose karate. And I cast her out. I've never seen her since."

The room seemed to close in around them, the weight of Jimin's confession hanging heavy in the air. Jieun felt a surge of empathy for the younger version of her grandmother, caught between fear and love, trying to protect her family in the only way she knew how.

Jimin looked up at her, tears streaming down her face. "I thought I was doing the right thing, Jieun. But I've regretted it every day since. I've wondered if I was wrong if my fear and stubbornness drove her away. And now, I see the same traits in you, and I'm terrified that I'll lose you too."

Jieun felt a lump rise in her throat, but she swallowed it down, her anger rekindling. "You erased her. You pretended she never existed."

Jimin's eyes widened, her expression one of horror. "No, Jieun, that's not —"

"Save it," Jieun snapped, her voice shaking.

The room seemed to vibrate with their fury, the air thick with words that could never be taken back. Jimin's shoulders sagged under the weight of her anger, her face suddenly old and tired. She opened her mouth to retort, but the fight seemed to drain out of her all at once, leaving her deflated.

Jimin turned away, her shoulders trembling. "I can't keep fighting you, Jieun. I'm too old, too tired. Do what you want. Just... be careful."

Jieun watched as her grandmother retreated, the fire in her own heart dimming to embers. The words they had exchanged hung in the air like smoke, acrid and lingering. She felt a pang of regret, but it was buried under layers of resentment and pain.

In the silence that followed, Jieun felt the weight of their fractured relationship settle heavily on her shoulders. There was no easy resolution, no simple path to forgiveness. But as she watched her grandmother's retreating figure, she knew that despite everything, there was still a thread of connection between them — fragile, but unbroken.

GOLF 'N STUFF WAS A KALEIDOSCOPE OF colors and sounds, an indoor wonderland where the air was thick with the clatter of arcade games and the hum of excited chatter. Purple and pink LED lights bathed the entire place in a surreal glow, casting playful shadows on the walls.

Rows of arcade machines blinked and beeped, each one promising a different adventure. Booths lined the sides, offering everything from cotton candy to cheesy fries. It was almost like an amusement park, but indoors and without any rides — a playground of nostalgia and neon dreams.

Jieun, Robby, Sam, Miguel, and Tory wandered through the maze of flashing lights and electronic sounds. Robby had just finished a round of ring toss, his face a mix of concentration and disappointment as he missed the last toss. The prize — a large, plush teddy bear — remained out of reach, much to Jieun's dismay. She had been hoping for a small victory, a token to remember the night by.

"Better luck next time, man," Miguel said, clapping Robby on the back.

Robby shrugged, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Guess I'm not cut out for the carnival circuit."

Jieun laughed softly, linking her arm with his as they walked away from the game. The silence that settled over the group was relaxed and they moved past the glowing arcade machines and the bustling booths, their footsteps lost in the cacophony of the arcade.

Jieun cut through the quiet with a sudden memory, her voice thoughtful and tinged with nostalgia. "I won a goldfish once in one of those games. We called him Soju, like the alcohol drink. We gave him Froot Loops to eat. For twelve years that thing lived."

There was a dramatic pause, the group turning to look at her with curious smiles. "Until my cousin ate him on a dare. Fucking asshole."

The group burst into laughter, the sound mingling with the arcade's background noise. Sam shook her head, grinning. "Seriously? He ate a goldfish?"

"Yeah," Jieun replied, her laughter infectious. "I still can't believe it. Who even does that?"

Tory chuckled, nudging Jieun with her elbow. "That's insane. But also kind of impressive, in a really messed up way."

"I guess it's one way to win a dare," Miguel said, shaking his head. "But man, Soju must have been pretty tough to survive that long on Froot Loops."

Jieun smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. Despite the earlier confrontation with her grandmother, being here with her friends, sharing stories and laughter, made everything feel lighter. The bright lights and cheerful noise of Golf 'N Stuff enveloped them, a temporary escape from the complexities of life.

Robby leaned in closer to Jieun, his hand finding hers. "Well, I might not have won you a teddy bear, but at least we've got good stories to tell."

Jieun squeezed his hand, her heart full.

The group's laughter gradually faded into an awkward silence. It was their first hangout together since Tory and Sam had rekindled their friendship, and the tension was still palpable. As they wandered through the neon-lit maze of Golf N Stuff, Jieun, Tory, and Robby walked ahead, leaving Miguel and Sam trailing a few feet behind.

Jieun, sensing the heavy silence, decided to break it. "You know, it was Miguel's idea to bring us all here. He thought it might help you to stop avoiding each other."

"I'm not avoiding her," Tory's voice cut through the air, defensive and sharp.

Robby and Jieun exchanged a glance, both eyebrows raised in unison, clearly disbelieving. Tory sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she began to speak. "Okay, fine. We've been enemies since the day we met."

She paused, gathering her thoughts before continuing. "It's just a different dynamic, you know? When Jiji and Sam made up, they already had a history. They had been friends before, so the rekindling wasn't so awkward. But now I'm training in her dad's backyard, learning the exact opposite of everything I've ever been taught. It's weird."

"Just give her a chance," Robby said, his voice gentle but firm. "I mean, things are gonna be different from now on, so..."

Tory made a lighthearted comment, trying to lighten the mood. "Maybe it wouldn't be so awkward if I wasn't stuck as the fifth wheel."

Jieun laughed, the sound bright and genuine. "You couldn't possibly be the fifth wheel, Tory. It's Robby."

As they walked toward the skeeball machines, Robby suddenly stopped, his gaze fixed on a distant figure. There, amidst the neon glow and the crowd of arcade-goers, stood Kenny. Since the big Cobra Kai match, Kenny hadn't spoken to Robby, and the sight of him now brought a mix of hope and determination to Robby's face.

"I've gotta give it another shot," Robby said, his voice resolute. "He needs to know there's another way besides the shit Silver was feeding him."

Everyone nodded, understanding the weight of Robby's decision. "At least here, he can't send my call to voicemail," Robby added with a wry smile.

As if sensing Robby's presence, Kenny turned, his eyes locking onto the group. His expression shifted from surprise to disdain, and he rolled his eyes before moving away. Robby sighed, his determination unwavering despite Kenny's reaction. "I'm gonna be right back," he said, glancing at his friends.

They all let him go, supportive nods and silent encouragement following him as he made his way through the arcade toward Kenny. Miguel then gestured to Jieun, signaling his intention to take Tory and Sam to get some ice cream and maybe have a heart-to-heart.

Jieun nodded, grateful for the chance to give Robby the space he needed and to let Miguel facilitate some healing between Tory and Sam. Alone now, she wandered through the arcade, the dazzling lights and cheerful chaos providing a comforting distraction.

She found herself at a claw machine, its glass case filled with plush toys. Determined to win something for Robby, she fed a few quarters into the machine and focused intently on maneuvering the claw. The first few attempts were unsuccessful, the claw slipping off the toys' soft surfaces.

A familiar face appeared behind her. Yujin, with his easy smile and relaxed demeanor, approached Jieun, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Need some help?" he said, watching her struggle with a new game. The claw machine had been a victory, but this new challenge was proving to be more difficult.

Jieun shook her head, determined to conquer the game on her own. "No, I've got this," she insisted, her fingers gripping the controls tightly.

Yujin chuckled his presence a comforting blend of amusement and encouragement. "Are you sure? Because it looks like you're getting your ass kicked."

Jieun shot him a playful glare, her competitive spirit ignited. "I'm sure. Just watch."

Yujin crossed his arms, leaning casually against the machine as he watched her efforts. Despite her best attempts, the game continued to elude her, each failure met with a soft groan of frustration.

"Alright, move over," he finally said, stepping up beside her. "Let me show you how it's done."

She sighed, but she couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. "Fine, but only because I want to see if you can actually do it."

With practiced ease, Yujin took the controls and began playing. His movements were precise, each action calculated. Jieun watched, impressed despite herself, as he navigated the game with a skill that spoke of countless hours spent in arcades.

"See? It's all about timing," Yujin explained, his voice calm and confident. "You have to wait for the right moment."

Moments later, the game flashed with victory lights, and Yujin grinned, turning to Jieun. "There you go."

Jieun laughed, shaking her head. "You just got lucky."

"If you say so," Yujin said with a wink.

The sound of laughter and game beeps filled the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil she knew Robby was facing. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her own worries at bay.

She settled back into the rhythm of the arcade, she and Yujin spent the next thirty minutes wandering through the arcade, challenging each other to different games. Yujin's playful persistence was infectious, and Jieun found herself relaxing, enjoying the friendly competition. They played air hockey, and racing games, and even tried their luck at another claw machine. Each loss met with good-natured teasing.

As they strolled through, Jieun's eyes wandered to where Robby was still trying to make Kenny talk to him. His persistence was admirable, but Kenny's closed-off body language spoke volumes.

Yujin, walking beside her, noticed her gaze and followed it to Robby. "He's really determined, isn't he?"

Jieun nodded, her expression pensive. "Yeah, he is. He won't give up on him."

Yujin sighed, the sound heavy with regret. "I'm sorry I wasn't there with you guys at the Cobra Kai battle. I know it was a big deal."

Jieun didn't respond immediately, her thoughts drifting to that chaotic day. The tension, the fear, the adrenaline — all of it came rushing back. She stayed silent, her eyes focused on Robby and Kenny.

"I've been thinking about something," Yujin continued, his voice low and cryptic. "Something important."

Jieun turned to look at him, curiosity piqued by the seriousness in his tone. "What is it?"

Yujin hesitated, his eyes searching hers as if weighing whether to share his thoughts. "It's just... I've been trying to figure out my place in all of this. In your life, in the dojo. I feel like I've been on the sidelines, watching but not really participating."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Jieun felt a pang of guilt, realizing that Yujin had indeed been more of an observer lately. She wanted to reassure him, to tell him that he mattered, but the right words seemed elusive.

The horizon melted into a canvas of twilight blues and purples, stars beginning to peek through the velvet sky. Yujin's steps grew slower, heavier as if each one carried the weight of a secret he had been carrying for too long. Jieun sensed the change, her heart quickening with apprehension.

"Jieun," Yujin began, his voice barely above a whisper. "There's something I need to tell you."

She turned to him, her eyes wide and searching. "What is it?"

He took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the fading light. "I'm leaving. For good."

The words hung in the air between them, an unwelcome intrusion into their shared solitude. Jieun's breath caught in her throat. "What? Why?"

Yujin's expression was pained, the anguish of a thousand untold stories reflected in his eyes. "After everything with Ben, life here hasn't been the same. I tried to move on, but... I just don't think I belong here anymore."

Her mind raced, memories of their time together flashing before her eyes. "But the Sekai Taikai tournament is coming up."

He laughed softly, a sound tinged with sorrow. "It's okay to miss it. I'm finally ready to leave that world behind. I need to."

"But why do you have to go this far?" Jieun's voice cracked the question into a plea for understanding.

They continued walking, the sky a canvas of oranges and pinks, each step drawing them further from the noise and closer to a quiet shared moment. Yujin broke the silence, his voice subdued. "Have you ever felt like you don't belong anywhere, and just want to live in a place where no one knows you?"

The sincerity in his voice cut through Jieun, leaving her both angry and heartbroken. She wanted to argue, to convince him to stay, but she saw the resolve in his eyes. This was his truth, and she had to respect it.

They stood there, the silence between them filled with the hum of crickets and the distant laughter of children. The weight of the moment pressed down on Jieun, her mind grappling with the impending loss. She searched for words, something to bridge the growing chasm between them.

Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but firm. "Since today is an important day, I'll create another memory."

Yujin looked at her, curiosity mingling with the sadness in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

She smiled, though her heart ached. "One last time, before you go. I want to remember you like this, happy, even if it's just for a moment."

Jieun and Yujin stood before a booth adorned with an array of colorful stationery. In front, a modest sign announced a lucky draw, each card promising a potential prize. Yujin eyed the setup skeptically.

"You want to do this?" he asked, tilting his head.

Jieun murmured a quiet yes, then added with more resolve, "Yes. Let's see how lucky you'll be in the future. You get six chances." She slammed her hand on the board, her voice firm. "Pick."

Yujin grimaced, glancing at the array of cards. "Seriously?"

Jieun stood her ground, eyes unwavering. With a resigned sigh, Yujin hovered his hand over the cards, closing his eyes for dramatic effect. "Okay, let's see." His finger finally landed on a card. "This one," he declared, peeling it open with exaggerated suspense. "I'll win for sure." But as the card revealed its message, his face fell. In big, bright letters, it read: TRY AGAIN.

"It's a bust," Jieun hissed, snatching the card from his fingers. "Second try." She glanced at the cards, her eyes narrowing. "And this time, pick more thoughtfully."

Yujin nodded, his expression serious. He selected another card. "This one." He flipped it over. In big blue letters, it read: SNAP CLIP.

"What's a snap clip?" Yujin asked, bewildered.

Jieun, stunned, responded, "You won something?" She grabbed the card from his hands, scrutinizing it. Her face fell. "Snap clips are the lowest, but..." She waved over the booth worker, who handed them a pair of tiny hair clips. Without a second thought, she clipped one into her hair, the other into Yujin's, their messy locks now adorned with the tiny victories. She was determined. "This time, I'm choosing the card. This one." She was confident. "Look carefully."

Yujin leaned in as she opened it in his direction, anticipation building. TRY AGAIN. He sighed deeply.

"Next," Jieun groaned, tossing the card aside. The next card: TRY AGAIN. And the next: TRY AGAIN. Their frustration grew, a palpable tension hovering between them. Yujin took a deep breath, practicing his breathing exercises before finally yelling, "Let's do this!" He reached for another card.

"Think before you pick!" Jieun's voice was exasperated.

He opened the card carefully, and Jieun pretended to cover her ears, afraid of yet another disappointment. "What is it?" she repeated, her voice tinged with desperation.

Yujin took his time, huffing and acting like he had just hit the lottery. "Pencil case!" he finally announced, eyes wide with triumph.

"Pencil case!" Jieun echoed, her face lighting up with joy. They smiled at each other, the frustration melting away as they high-fived, jumping up and down in their excitement. They turned to the booth worker, nearly shouting in unison, "Pencil case, please!"

The man handed them their prize, and they held it up like a trophy, grinning from ear to ear. Amid the chaos and noise of the arcade, their small victory felt monumental, a testament to their persistence and shared laughter.

The night deepened, stars sparkling with an almost unbearable brightness, as if they, too, were trying to hold onto the moment. Yujin and Jieun walked slowly back to where their paths would diverge, each step laden with the weight of unspoken words and shared memories. The arcade lights flickered in the distance, a colorful but fading echo of their earlier laughter.

They stopped at the edge of the arcade, where a path led off into the unknown, a symbol of Yujin's imminent departure. Jieun turned to him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Promise me you'll find what you're looking for," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Yujin nodded, his own eyes shimmering. "Promise me you'll keep fighting."

Jieun smiled, though her heart ached with the finality of it all. "I promise."

They embraced, a tight, lingering hug that conveyed everything words could not. When they finally pulled apart, Yujin reached out and gently touched her cheek, a silent farewell. Then, with a heavy heart, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the night.

Jieun watched him until he was out of sight, feeling a profound emptiness settle within her. She took a deep breath, composing herself, and turned back toward the arcade. Her friends were waiting, and she needed their presence now more than ever.

As she approached, she saw Robby standing with Tory, Miguel, and Sam, their faces lit by the neon glow of the arcade. Robby broke into a wide smile when he saw her, but his eyes held a question.

"Pretty girl," he said softly, stepping forward. "I still haven't gotten around to talking to Kenny."

Jieun reached into her bag and pulled out the bear she and Yujin had won earlier. She held it out to Robby.

He smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made Jieun's heart lift just a little. He leaned in and pecked her gently on the cheek, then squeezed her arm reassuringly.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

okay yall i have a lot to say about s6 so far but I'm just gonna hold back because it's not finished so I'm just hoping they fix the issues in the next part

yujins gone </3 i didn't wanna kill him off like pildo in my name T^T

filler chapter bc nothing happened in ep 1

its like i want to have jiji's and her grandmother's relationship to be healed but i literally just end up making it worse. especially with the bombshell dropped. LOL !!

old bitch doesn't deserve to be forgiven anyways !

much love,