It was the second week of June. Sunja had finished her shopping for the day and was going home carrying a loaded basket on the crook of each arm. Three Japanese high school students with their uniform jackets unbuttoned were heading to the harbor to go fishing. Too hot to sit still, the boys were skipping school. When they noticed Sunja, who was going in the direction of the Yeongdo ferry, the giggling boys surrounded her, and a skinny, pale student, the tallest of the three, plucked one of the long yellow melons out of her basket. He tossed it over Sunja’s head to his friends.
“Give that back,” Sunja said in Korean calmly, hoping they weren’t getting on the ferry. These sorts of incidents happened often on the mainland, but there were fewer Japanese in Yeongdo. Sunja knew that it was important to get away from trouble quickly. Japanese students teased Korean kids, and occasionally, vice versa. Small Korean children were warned never to walk alone, but Sunja was sixteen and a strong girl. She assumed that the Japanese boys must have mistaken her for someone younger, and she tried to sound more authoritative.
“What? What did she say?” they snickered in Japanese. “We don’t understand you, you smelly slut.”
Sunja looked around, but no one seemed to be watching them. The boatman by the ferry was busy talking to two other men, and the ajummas near the outer perimeter of the market were occupied with work.
“Give it back now,” she said in a steady voice, and stretched out her right hand. Her basket was lodged in the crook of her elbow, and it was getting harder to keep her balance. She looked directly at the skinny boy, who stood a head taller than her.
They laughed and continued to mutter in Japanese, and Sunja couldn’t understand them. Two of the boys tossed the yellow melon back and forth while the third rummaged through the basket on her left arm, which she was now afraid to put down.
The boys were about her age or younger, but they were fit and full of unpredictable energy.
The third boy, the shortest, pulled out the oxtails from the bottom of the basket.
“Yobos eat dogs and now they’re stealing the food of dogs! Do girls like you eat bones? You stupid bitch.”
Sunja swiped at the air, trying to get the soup bones back. The only word she understood for certain was yobo, which normally meant “dear” but was also a derogatory epithet used by the Japanese to describe Koreans.
The short boy held up a bone, then sniffed it. He made a face.
“Disgusting! How do these yobos eat this shit?”
“Hey, that’s expensive! Put that back!” Sunja shouted, unable to keep from crying.
“What? I don’t understand you, you stupid Korean. Why can’t you speak Japanese? All of the Emperor’s loyal subjects are supposed to know how to speak Japanese! Aren’t you a loyal subject?”
The tall one ignored the others. He was gauging the size of Sunja’s breasts.
“The yobo has really big tits. Japanese girls are delicate, not like these breeders.”
Afraid, Sunja decided to forget the groceries and start walking, but the boys crowded her and wouldn’t let her pass.
“Let’s squeeze her melons.” The tall one grabbed her left breast with his right hand. “Very nice and full of juice. You want a bite?” He opened his mouth wide close to her breasts.
The short one held on to her light basket firmly so she couldn’t move, then twisted her right nipple using his index finger and thumb.
The third boy suggested, “Let’s take her somewhere and see what’s beneath this long skirt. Forget fishing! She can be our catch.”
The tall one thrust his pelvis in her direction. “How much do you want to have a taste of my eel?”
“Let me go. I’m going to scream,” she said, but it felt like her throat was closing up. Then she saw the man standing behind the tallest boy.
Hansu grabbed the short hairs on the back of the boy’s head with one hand and clamped the boy’s mouth with his free hand. “Come closer,” he hissed at the others, and to their credit, they did not abandon their friend, whose eyes were wide open in terror.
“You sons of bitches should die,” he said in perfect Japanese slang. “If you ever bother this lady again or ever show your ugly faces near this area, I will have you killed. I will have you and your families murdered by the finest Japanese killers I know, and no one will ever know how you died. Your parents were losers in Japan, and that’s why you had to settle here. Don’t get any dumb ideas about how much better you are than these people.” Hansu was smiling as he was saying this. “I can kill you now, and no one would do a thing, but that’s too easy. When I decide, I can have you caught, tortured, then killed. Today, I am giving you a warning because I’m gracious, and we are in front of a young lady.”
The two boys remained silent, watching their friend’s eyes bulge. The man in the ivory-colored suit and white leather shoes pulled the boy’s hair harder and harder. The boy didn’t even try to scream, because he could feel the terrifying power of the man’s unyielding force.
The man spoke exactly like a Japanese, but the boys figured that he had to be Korean from his actions. They didn’t know who he was, but they didn’t doubt his threats.
“Apologize, you pieces of shit,” Hansu said to the boys.
“We’re very sorry.” They bowed formally to her.
She stared at them, not knowing what to do.
They bowed again, and Hansu released his grip on the boy’s hair just slightly.