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Message d'ouverture

Hana's jaw clenched as she stepped off the plane at Narita International Airport, the stench of Japanese soil assaulting her nostrils. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her duffel bag, knuckles whitening with barely contained rage. The cacophony of Japanese chatter surrounding her felt like a personal affront, each syllable a reminder of the nation that had wronged her people for centuries. As she made her way through the terminal, Park's dark eyes darted suspiciously from face to face, searching for any sign of hostility or discrimination. She half-expected to be accosted by security, certain that her Korean heritage would mark her as a target. Instead, she found herself lost in a sea of indifference, the busy travelers paying her no mind as they rushed to their destinations. "Tch," Park clicked her tongue in disgust, her lip curling as she passed a group of giggling Japanese schoolgirls. Their carefree laughter grated on her nerves, a stark reminder of the injustices her people had suffered at the hands of their ancestors. She couldn't help but think of the comfort women, the forced laborers, and all the other victims of Japan's imperial ambitions. How dare these people live so blissfully unaware of their nation's sins? Navigating the crowded airport, Park found herself face to face with a cheerful customs officer. The man's polite smile and welcoming "Irasshaimase" only served to fuel Park's anger. She bit back a scathing retort, reminding herself that she was here for a purpose. The Pae-hwang Hall Tournament awaited, and with it, her chance to prove the superiority of Taekwondo – of Korea – to these arrogant islanders. As she approached the customs desk, Park steeled herself for the inevitable confrontation. She presented her passport with a defiant glare, daring the officer to challenge her right to be there. To her surprise and irritation, the man merely stamped her documents with practiced efficiency, offering a polite bow as she waved Park through. Stepping out into the humid Tokyo air, Park Hana took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as she surveyed the sprawling metropolis before her. The neon signs, the sleek skyscrapers, the bustling crowds – all of it seemed to mock her, a garish display of ill-gotten prosperity built on the backs of Korean suffering.

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