So.
I last updated just over two weeks ago, which means this is only a little over a week late. That's not too bad, right?
That said, this chapter is a pile of babbling nonsense but I kinda like it. I sort of did what I did for Arthur's chapter and just wrote without having any idea what I was writing. So it's a little weirder and more disjointed then the other chapters.
Also, I apologize for the excessive K-Pop references.
Oh, and I turn sixteen in 30 minutes!
Yong Soo Falls with that Ever-Permanent Smile
"Sorry, sorry, sorry…." (1)
He is splayed out on the bed, legs propped up against the wall as he taps his fingers against the mattress and bobs his head up and down, a wide grin on his face as the happy beat fills his mind. The headphones that cover his ears are blasting loud, electronic beats that reverberate both within his head and around the room. The music is loud, but that is the way he likes it.
IPods, Yong Soo thinks, are the best part of technology and the future. All of his precious music and boy groups and girl groups and videos and posters and pictures at his fingertips. It is all wonderful, really.
But it's the music he loves the most.
Music, in his opinion, is the best part of this world. There is nothing quite like a melody floating on the wind or pounding in your ears and no feeling like stomping you feet and moving your body and feeling your soul align with the soul of the music.
People accuse the Korean of having his head in the clouds, while truthfully, his head is filled with guitar and drums and electronic beats and his wondrous music that is taking the world by storm.
Oh yes. He is so so proud of how his music has spread around the globe. How it is listened to and heard in countries in Europe and North America and everywhere. So proud.
The word 'pride' rolls around Yong Soo's head and an amused smile quirks his lips upwards.
He is proud, but not quite as proud as China. He doesn't think anyone is as proud as China. It is almost what his beloved elder brother is known for.
The smile fades.
A frown.
All of Asia seems to be known for something.
Proud China.
Honourable Japan.
Fierce Vietnam.
Immoveable Taiwan.
Innovative Hong Kong.
. . . . .
Idiotic Korea.
Yong Soo's eyes flutter open and he stares up at the ceiling, pale white, not covered in posters and pinups like his ceiling at home. The catchy tune streaming into his ears does nothing to lighten the suddenly somber mood that has descended as he contemplates the world's classification of him.
Idiotic Korea.
That's how it goes, right?
Because Korea is not like the rest of Asia. He is not calm, reserved, or oozing with ancient wisdom. His eyes aren't dark with the weight of the world and his back isn't bent with the strict tradition and regulations that usually choke Oriental countries. He is oozing with energy and happiness and excitement and his eyes are bright with life and laughter and perpetual amusement. His back is both straight with a military posture and slouched with the easy-going gait of a teenager. He is easygoing.
And that is….
Bad. Wrong. Horrible, of course. What right do you have to be happy?
Happy?
Living in backwards, bloodstained Asia. As crooked as Europe but twice as old, with the pain and insanity extending so much farther into the past.
What right does any nation of Asia to be happy?
Happy?
Happy, bouncing, Korea. No concept of seriousness or honour or pride or any of those well-known, widely expected Asian traits.
That is what everyone thinks, isn't it? What everyone says.
Idiotic Korea, with that smile that never fades.
At least.
Not.
Where he can see it.
His cheeks hurt, much like the rest of his body, from the strain of that permanently sustained smile. His face is bruised and purple and blue and the white of his teeth looks not cheerful and endearing but disturbing with red trickling from the corners of his mouth and mingling with the gore dripping down from the remains of his smashed nose.
That smile, dripping, still permanent.
If his eyes were fully visible they would be bright and glinting with amusement, but as it is they are hidden behind swollen and throbbing eyelids, black with burst blood vessels and shooting bolts of pain through his cranium.
But still.
That dripping, crooked smile remains.
Permanent.
Un-fading.
Stupid Korea.
A smack sends him flying across the floor and thudding into the opposing wall. He is still grinning as the side of his face smacks against the hard surface and cheekbones crack and splinter. And that smile is more painful than ever and there is more blood in his mouth and he
wont.
stop.
smiling.
And the curses and angry growls in Japanese can't cause the bloodstained smile to fade and he hums to himself softly. Some old lullaby. Some old song.
And I won't stop smiling, for you.
Lifted up by his throat. Pinned against the wall. Clothes falling into a dirty, torn, bloody heap on the floor.
And still that idiotic-
-so stupid Korea is-
-smile does not fade.
Because you don't have to be afraid.
I'm smiling so you don't have to be afraid.
I'm not afraid, see? I am not afraid.
Not afraid that they lost.
Not afraid that their culture and language and very self are being forcibly ripped away from them.
Not afraid that he is completely under foreign control, both in country and body.
Not afraid.
Because I can keep smiling like this!
Wipe those tears away, off your cheeks.
Even if you can't smile, I will smile for you.
Don't let those pretty eyes be swollen with sadness.
This smile will never fade.
I won't let him break us.
Break us down.
Down, down, down.
Sliding down the wall.
Blood trickling down. Down his legs. It hurts. The liquid sliding across the bruises hurts. When he hits the ground and the blood begins to pool beneath him it hurts.
It hurts.
And his heart.
That hurts too.
Because his Hyung-nim taught him to be strong and proud always. And this takeover and this position that he is in and the fact that he is no longer part of a country but part of someone else's empire is a loss of strength and a loss of pride and a loss of everything.
And he is powerless.
So what can he do?
What can he do?
Heh.
He lifts up his heavy, heavy, head.
He smiles.
His body barely feels the blows that rain down on him after that. Blows for his unwillingness to submit. For his people and the way they refuse to speak Japanese, refuse to give themselves and their culture up. For the riots, the demonstrations, the resistance.
He keeps smiling.
Resistance, the others say, is futile. Because this is Japan. And they are just Korea. Nowhere near strong enough to put up a good fight. To win. To free themselves.
No one believes.
Quiet sobbing.
She doesn't believe either.
Why are you doing this?
Why?
Always so serious. Everyone is always so serious.
Serious China. Serious Japan. Serious everyone.
Nations. Who live forever.
-he can hear the sound of the baton hitting his body-
Immortal beings, unchanged by time except in spirit and character.
-but he cannot feel it. Cannot feel-
They are governed by their people and their government and the factors that effect their land. They are pawns. They are wisps being constantly blown about in the wind with no control over what happens to them.
-anything except for the slight strain-
There is nothing they can do.
-on his face as he-
So what else can they do?
-continues to smile.
Because China will never waver or show weakness for the sake of his pride and Japan would go to the ends of the Earth to defend his honour and never retreat or surrender.
But Korea will smile.
And Korea will hum a tune under his breath.
Maybe he will dance, just a little.
And however deep the hurt has sunk into his skin and into his bones and into even his soul, he will endure this pain and the strain on his bruised cheeks and he will smile and maybe laugh once in awhile and will sing his banned traditional songs and will pretend like the seeping of Japanese and Japanese culture into his body as the years pass isn't hurting his heart and his soul and pretend that the perpetual beating down of his people doesn't cause a sob to shake his chest and he can mourn all the young men dying in labour camps with just the barest glimmer of wetness in his eyes and he can ache for the girls taken as 'comfort women' with a shaky breath and his head held high.
And he will not let that smile fade.
Your smile may be gone, but I will keep mine, and smile for the both of us.
Noona….
…is very pretty. (2)
The catchy Korean R&B song bursts out of the headphones and startles him slightly before causing that familiar smile to once again spread across his face.
He really loves his music. Music in general really, but especially his music. It truly does inspire a type of pride in him. People look at Hong Kong business and Chinese exports and Japanese technology and animation and see how far they've spread all around the world. And now, finally, Korea has something that is stretching far and wide as well.
And it is not something superficial or monetary. Rather, it is composed of melodies and harmonies and cute boys and pretty girls and the universal language that is music.
And for Korea, who is always too happy and too light hearted to fit into Asia and to be truly accepted into their strict social circle, being able to make himself known and make something of himself and have people know Korea like they know China and Japan without becoming an economic powerhouse or something to just invest in…that makes him proud. Maybe not the type of pride that his Hyung wanted to instill in him, but it is pride all the same.
It really does feel nice to have the world's eyes on him. To not be obscure and overshadowed and outdone by all his siblings.
At least.
It would have been nice.
To have the world look at him. To have them acknowledge him. To have them know him like they know his brothers.
If it wasn't.
For the fact.
That the world was exploding around him.
And the sky is dark and clouded with smoke and streaks of fire shoot through the air, mingling with the cracks and the booms and the shuddering of the Earth as attacks and rebuttals and defensives and offensives are launched and lost.
Even as he sits in a trench, cleaning his rifle and adjusting the too big helmet that keeps slipping over his eyes, he can't help but acknowledge the irony of the situation.
After all, he wanted to be free from Japan, right? So badly.
So badly.
To be free to sing and to dance and to speak Korean and to smile from happiness and not defiance.
That is what he wanted, right? To be free of oppression and pain.
And now he is free of oppression. Now he does not have to force a smile.
Because the one he was forcing a smile for is the one causing him pain. Causing the world to explode around him. Causing the screams and the aches and the blood and the burns and his eyes to water with smoke and maybe something else.
He sighs. Leans his head against the barrel of the weapon and slumps down.
So what now?
What?
What do I do?
What can you do?
I don't want to fight her.
Why are you fighting her?
I don't have a choice.
And why is that?
I don't believe in what she's fighting for. I don't want to fall under the Reds.
Is that America talking, or you?
….
America. America who has been by his side constantly since liberating him from Japan. America, who worked so hard to get a Korean government up and going. A capitalist government. For some reason, that seemed to be the most important aspect of everything.
America.
…Me. I am talking. …Maybe. I don't know. Maybe it's Japan talking. Who knows.
Because that's the thing with occupation. Everything from the one who is occupying you beings to seep in. Language and traditions and protocols and beliefs. And Korea was occupied by Japan for so long that sometimes he wonders if he can be even sure that what he is thinking is Korean and not-
-Because he didn't notice when he suddenly stopped referring to China as Hyung but rather as Aniki-
-Japanese and he can't seem to remember how to put his Hanbok on right. As if even the simple right to wear his traditional clothing has been taken from him.
And that hurts.
That hurts.
And then, there is America. America who is so nice and all smiles and looks like the kindest most easy-going guy and Korea again finds himself thinking about nations and what they are and everything about them because this Alfred F. Jones is the most happy-go-lucky easygoing idiot he has ever met and yet he wiped two Japanese cities off the face of the planet.
Civilian-filled cities.
Being a nation is something that Korea thinks about a lot because there are so many different expectations, depending on where you're from. To be a European nation, you must be ruthless and bloodthirsty, cunning and capable of no mercy. To be an Asian nation you must be reserved, ambitious, quiet, calculating and closed off. Hide your emotions. Hide your feelings.
Which is why none of them like me, I guess.
And the newest division of nationhood, being a nation of the New World. If America is anything to go by, it means you must be idealistic and optimistic and everything a nation isn't supposed to be.
Or maybe.
That's just a façade.
Because Japan can't walk.
Japan is coughing up blood.
Japan's eyes popped in their sockets.
Pop!
And America did that. America did that twice.
And this idealistic not-nation who is, perhaps, the deadliest of them all, is the other nation who has occupied Korea. But they don't call it occupied. They say, 'help to set up a new government'. They say, 'help to get you back on your feet.'
Help to throw you into another war.
No.
No?
Not his fault.
Because it's not his fault that made the two of you a battleground for him and Russia to fight. Not his fault that they put the spread of their own ideals over the two of you. Forced their ideals onto you and made you fight.
…But that's just what nations do.
And yes, it's probably true that this hatred towards the spread of Communism was probably sowed directly into his being by America. And yes, this fight is not really Korea's fight but rather a fight between two world powers unwilling to fight on their own soil.
Yes. He knows that.
And what do you want me to do about it? Break?
No.
He sits up.
No I won't do that.
Turns around and raises the gun.
I refuse.
Because pride comes in all types, he thinks. China's pride, which is pride in himself and his country and his everything. Japan's pride, which is pride exclusively in honour and loyalty. America's pride, which is pride in that freedom wish he wishes to spread whether or not anyone asks him to spread it.
And my pride.
He fires a single shot.
My pride that I won't be like the others.
The recoil has him reeling.
I won't let government, or war, or circumstance beat me.
He falls back onto his back.
And I won't hide my smile for any Nation-façade.
Because I might represent a country.
But I also represent a people.
And I….
My pride….
He struggles upwards, a searing pain shooting through his shoulder.
Shot?
The other men are all dead. The battlefield has fallen silent-
-he hates silence-
-and he manages to pull himself upright, clutching his shoulder and peeking over the edge of the trench.
She is staring back.
Her uniform is torn and the bandages that she was using to bind her chest have unraveled, and one arm is pressed to the area to hide what her hair, shorn short, can't do on its own. The other arm is limp, and blood soaks the cloth there.
Dark eyes, so like his own, staring right at him.
He meets the gaze, clutching the wound in his shoulder that is identical to hers.
Noona…
Her face is a mask of pain and anger and desperation. She looks frustrated and like she doesn't know what to do. The enemy is in sight. The enemy that is her twin brother is in sight and there is no one but the two of them out here and she doesn't know what to do.
Her face looks so unhappy…
She has never been good at smiling. Never been able to see the light and the optimism in situations.
Which is why I would always smile for her. Smile for the both of us.
But you can't do that now, can you?
Because they are at war. And when nations are at war everything else is forgotten. Family is forgotten. Memories and smiles are forgotten.
That is the truth of being a nation.
The truth is…
That there is nothing to smile about.
And if you smile then you're foolish. An idiot.
Idiotic Korea.
And that is my pride.
What?
He stands up, legs numb and shaking from sitting for so long and from the pain lancing down from his shoulder. The ground is uneven and littered with bodies and limbs and blood and bits and pieces of what were once humans but he marches on, head held high.
She is still kneeling on the field, looking wary and angry and still just so lost.
He stops in front of her.
They are at war. It does not matter if they are twins or not because they are at war. Governed by their people and circumstance, controlled by their government. This is what nations are.
He drops to his knees.
And wraps his arms around his sister.
Because Korea is an idiot. Korea smiles when there is no reason to smile and laughs when there is no joy to be found. Korea is an idiot because he values family bonds whether there is a war going on or not. Korea is an idiot because he will hug and comfort his sister even though she is trying to kill him and he will keep smiling for her, for always.
And that idiocy is what he is proud of. What he cherishes. That he can be here, with her, and not care.
Because this, this hurts. More than anything else. More than anything Japan or any other nation did to them. This inability to be together. They are twins. They are two halves of the same country. War may have drawn battle lines between them but the bond is still there.
Her hands clutch at his bloodstained uniform, her face buried into his chest as she shakes silently, refusing to make a sound. Refusing to make her tears heard.
Korea won't win this war. Because this is not their war. This is a war that has torn them apart for the gains of larger countries and a war that has pushed them to an edge they never wanted to teeter on. And for two nation-children who only ever had each other, who were always the other half of one another. Two nation-children to whom being separated meant death itself.
This war has torn them in the most excruciating way possible.
They will never be whole again.
Whether the Capitalists or the Communists win does not matter. Because either way, Korea will lose.
Korea will fall.
Both of them.
/
"I s-still don't forgive you for this!"
Yong Soo blinks, lifting off one side of his headphones and rolling over onto his back, his head hanging over the side of the bed as he looks over at his friend, who is sitting on the other side of the room with a discontented pout on his face.
The room is echoing with loud dance beats and synthesizers, melodic Korean vocals causing to the room to vibrate as K-Pop blasts from the stereo. The boy band currently being blasted is a popular one, often praised as the most popular group in Korea. So amazing, so awesome, so super, that they have become popular all around the globe. Western countries included.
Such as Canada.
"It wasn't my decision!" defends Korea, pouting back at his friend and waving his arms about for emphasis. "I really thought it would be in Toronto!"
Canada huffs a bit, turning in the chair and folding his arms across his chest as he looks down with a somewhat forlorn expression on his face. "B-but it's not, is it? I-I was r-really looking forward to seeing all the bands here…" The blonde slumps down in his chair, looking truly dejected. Though really, he always looks dejected. If there has ever been a nation that is in desperate need of a smile (and a hug) it is Canada.
Which is why Yong Soo is glad they're friends. He likes making the Canadian laugh and he likes seeing that rare smile that others don't. And he likes how kind and simple Canada is. How there don't seem to be those layers of deceit and complexities and a history of, well, evil that surround the other nations. Canada, Yong Soo thinks, is like a fresh blanket of snow. White, peaceful, unjudgemental.
Because Canada does not have that warped layer that shrouds those other, ancient nations, so he does not look at Korea and expect him to have it. He doesn't frown when Korea laughs. Glare when he does something silly. Or hold contempt for him for that perpetual smile.
They're friends.
"Sorry," apologizes Yong Soo, rolling over onto his stomach and resting his face in his hands with his elbows propping him upwards, "Maybe the concert will be there next time?"
Guilt lances through him as sad indigo eyes meet his own dark ones, before dropping back down to the floor.
"Yeah," sighs Canada, twirling a lock of hair around one finger as he continues to pout and stare forlornly at the radio currently blasting 'Cry' by MBLAQ. The blonde looks truly upset about something. Truly bothered and agitated and being eaten away at. It's different then his usual dejected 'no-one-knows-I-exist' look, but tinged with real worry and read sadness.
"Is something wrong, maknae?" asks Korea, sliding off the bed and crossing the room to drape himself over the side of the chair that Canada is currently occupying. "You seem really bothered by something! Are you really that upset about SM Town moving to New York instead of Toronto?"
A childish pout causes Canada's bottom lip to protrude slightly and he gives his friend a slightly irritated look. "I-I'm very upset ab-bout that!" he stammers with as much as force as his perpetually soft voice can muster, "B-but there is something else…,"
Korea waits patiently, watching his friend with careful eyes and head tilted to the side slightly.
"…I'm worried about my brother," sighs the Canadian heavily, fidgeting whilst biting his lip nervously, "I mean…he…well, you know."
There is a moment of incomprehension before Korea's entire demeanor sobers a bit and he nods.
Yes, he knows. Everybody knows. About America. About his trouble. About the precipice the young nation is currently teetering on.
A genuine frown downturns Korea's lips as his thoughts begin to center on the topic that the entire world has been gossiping about for awhile now. A topic that he doesn't particularly like to think about himself, as America is also his friend.
Yes, everyone knows about America and are talking about America but few people are doing or feeling or are concerned at all.
England, might be worried. Italy, who worries about everyone, is worried. Japan- -though he never would have thought that bastard capable of feeling anything- appears to be worried.
And Canada is worried. Canada is very worried. Because he is America's brother.
Brothers care about each other.
Yes. That is true. Brothers do that. Family does that. At least, normal families do. With nation-families, the rules are more flexible and breakable and nonexistent. Unless of course, the nations are New World nations. In which case, they tend to do the exact opposite of what nations generally did.
Which was why stupid, backwards Korea loves hanging out with them so much.
"I'm worried about Alfred too," replies Korea with a heavy sigh, sliding down to the floor and wrapping his arms around his legs. "But these things happen with nations. There are ups and downs all the time. I'm sure all this rotten stuff will pass soon!" Yong Soo punctuates his remark by hopping up and smiling broadly at his friend, one of his widest most idiotic smiles.
While that idiotic smile ostracizes him from the other nations and has labeled him a fool, it brings a shy smile and nod from Canada.
"I-I sure hope so," he says softly, staring off into the distance, "I'm so worried…"
Korea freezes for a moment, torn between a reassuring remark, another smile at the sweet concern the Canadian has for his brother, and something else.
Something Else?
That something else being a twinge of jealousy and hate and pain as he thinks of the non-existent nothing but hate relationship he has with the sister who meant the world to him. His sister who he went through hell and back for. His sister who was his other half. The other side of his heart. That sister who he smiled for. Always smiling. For her.
Because it wasn't the war that tore him apart. It wasn't the war that bit into his soul and his heart and tore chunks out of them. No. No it wasn't. It was the armistice. It was the you two are now separate countries. It was the there is hate and discord and nothing but pain between you. It was the you will never be whole again.
That's what kicked him in the ass and booted him off the proverbial cliff that every nation finds themselves tumbling down. That. That realization. That empty spot that his sister is supposed to fill. That.
"S-sorry for whining like this!" stammers Canada, apologetic as always, "It's just, I-I care about my brother so much, you know?"
Korea smiles, a smile that might be a little sadder, a little more bitter, a little more heartbroken than the ones he usually gives.
"Yeah," he says softly, still smiling. Always smiling.
"I know."
/
Silence.
If there is one thing that happy-go-lucky Korea actually hates, it is silence. Lack of noise, lack of distraction, lack of anything but his own thoughts is something that has the potential to drive him crazy.
Well.
Crazier than he already is.
So it is strange that at this moment, he is walking through the surprisingly empty halls with his headphones around his neck and not against his ears. Not hopping and skipping and stomping his feet against the floor but walking softly and quietly and-
-walking just like a good Asian nation should-
-with small, dainty steps that the energetic nation most certainly isn't known for.
Silence is something he truly dislikes. Silence is something that cannot be broken up with a smile. It is so…absolute. So deafening. He doesn't like it. He hates it. In fact, his hatred of silence is probably the reason he loves music so much.
And yet, here he is, in an utterly silent-
"Hey! Yong Soo, is that you?"
Korea startles before turning around with a wide grin, his somewhat downcast mood evaporating as a familiar and welcome voice booms around the empty passageway and quickly banishes that damnable silence.
"Alfred!" chirps Yong Soo, skipping forward to meet the American halfway, slapping the teen a high five before rocking backwards on his heels and grinning. "Long time no see!"
Alfred grins, blue eyes sparkling behind his glasses and face lit up like a firework. As usual, he looks ridiculously happy. He has that smile on his face that is now a common trait associated with the 'new' world and that easy-going air which has labeled him as an airhead, much like it has Korea.
Isn't it sad? That any nation who is 'happy' who is 'joyful' is therefore 'idiotic' and 'stupid'?
Isn't it sad?
"Man, it sucks that we're all here together but we're so hung up with meetings that we never get a chance to chill," huffs Alfred, folding his arms across his chest. "I sooo wanted to check out that new Drama of yours! City Hunter, right?"
"Yup!" answers Yong Soo with a grin. "Lee Minho at his finest! I have some episodes one DVD, so we should totally hang together and watch it if we get the chance!"
Alfred smiles back and nods enthusiastically, launching into a wave of plans and suggestions for the next time the two of them have a chance to meet up.
Korea watches with that same smile. That ever-permanent smile. The smile that will never really fade and the smile that he will wear even if it brands him the dunce of Asia. Because he likes it. He likes smiling. He likes being happy. His people are a happy people. They are filled with pride and Korean Spirit, as it were. He has been through countless hardships and pain and his heart is still missing that ever-important piece.
But he can still smile.
And he likes to smile.
And Korea watches America, who also has a permanent smile, and who has also been branded an idiot. It might be that morbid and ambitious side of him that comes from being a part of backwards, bloodstained Asia, but he is curious. Curious to see how America, Alfred, his friend, will react. What, he wonders, will happen to that smile? Where will it go? What will become of it?
What will become of him?
Yong Soo stifles a sigh as he follows America down the hallway, that smile still plastered on his face.
It's like China says. The highs and lows come and go, and there's nothing we can do about it.
After all,
We're just a couple of idiots, right?
/
1. Sorry, Sorry- KPOP song by Super Junior
2. Noona is very pretty (Replay)- A KPOP song by SHINee
Hyung= older brother (boy to boy)
Noona= older sister (boy to girl)
Maknae = Hm...not sure how to translate this. Sort of like 'baby'? As in, the youngest. For example, Onew is the oldest member of SHINee, so he is Hyung. Taemin is the youngest, so he is Maknae.
And for some reason it felt weird for Yong Soo to call Canada Matthew, but they're close friends so 'Canada' would have been too formal so I was like 'nickname!' and all I could think of was Maknae, since Canada is one of the youngest nations (or so everyone thinks). OTL
And I referred to Korea as Korea and not South Korea because I am lazy dammit. I reason it by saying that people call South Korea, Korea and North Korea...North Korea much like the way people refer to the Italies. North Italy is the Italy everyone generally deals with so he's 'Italy'. And South Korea is usually what people are referring to when they talk about Korea. So there.
Buh. Should not have Korea and Canada in a chapter together. Korea is my favourite character to write about and Canada is my home country. I will ramble on forever if they are placed in the same chapter.
Long chapter is long.
Anyhoo, if you're wondering what the heck is going on in the part with Canada and Korea, there is this music label called SM Entertainment in Korea, and it has all the TRULY SPECTACTULAR AWESOME boy bands like Super Junior and SHINee. SM holds something called 'SM TOWN' in different parts of the world where all the different bands in their label perform. Last year, it was in Paris. There were rumours that this year it was going to be in Toronto and we were all so excited because goddamn I want to see Donghae's beautiful face in person but then SM was like 'Toronto? Where's that? Is that a place? What country is that in? Ah, screw it let's just have it in New York.'
8(
F*CK YOU SM ENTERTAINMENT HENRY IS FROM CANADA YOU BASTARDS WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU TROLL US SO HARD.
I'm still really smarting about the whole thing, if you can't tell.
That said, my headcanon says that Korea and Canada are best friends. One, Koreans love Canada. No seriously. In all those Korean reality shows they always get sent to Canada. Plus they're really grateful for our part in the Korean War. And Koreans just love studying in Canada.
And the crowning moment of awesome that made me squee when I saw it, is that in volume 2 of the manga, in Korea's character profile it says 'He loves Canada'.
HE LOVES CANADA.
CanKor is my forbidden OTP and hot damn did reading that ever make my every day. XD
Alright, history time.
Japan annexed Korea in the early nineteenth century. It was really bad. They tried to crush the Korean culture and sent the young men to labour camps and took the women as 'comfort women' for the Japanese army. Korea was freed from the North by the Soviets and from the South by the Americans in WW2. The two sides then helped set up governments in the two sections and the plan was to reunite the two halves of the country when everything was stable. But the Soviets set up a Communist government and the Americans set up a Capitalist one.
And then North Korea invaded South Korea to try and make them one Communist country but America got the UN involved and thus, the Korean War.
The whole thing kind of irritates me because, like I said in the chapter, it was just the Soviets and Americans using another country to fight their battle. Vietnam was the same thing.
Oh, and did you know North Korea and South Korea are still technically at war? They signed an armistice, not a peace treaty. O.o
This story is nearing its end, as you can probably tell. I'm excited for next chapter so hopefully it will be out soon!
Long author's note is long.
Review my lovelies~ You always make such smiles appear on my face when you review~ Review for my sweet sixteen~?
xoxo, natcat5 ;p