📘 2007: A Girl with No Tomorrow

✦ Chapter 10: Try Your Luck — Or Else

> “I was always trying.

But no one ever asked what I was losing.”

— Aki Hoshino

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The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

Aki was in her room, polishing the strings of her bow. Not for practice. Just to keep her hands busy. Her medal drawer was nearly full. Her piano keys still smelled like polish. The silence sat heavy on her chest like fog.

Then—her father’s voice, from the living room.

“Aki.”

She went downstairs.

He stood holding an old photograph — her, around age nine, in a white dobok. The memory was faint: one local taekwondo match, a silver medal, a small bruise she hadn’t cried over.

“Look at this,” he said.

She nodded. “I remember.”

“You used to be fast. Good form.”

“I stopped,” she said plainly.

“Well, start again,” he replied, already tossing the photo aside. “There’s a regional tournament next week. Some of the guys at my club are sponsoring it. I told them my daughter might enter.”

She blinked.

“I haven’t trained in years.”

Her father’s eyes sharpened. “So?”

A pause.

Then softly, almost bored, he said:

“Try your luck. Better not disappoint me.”

Her jaw tightened.

That phrase — “don’t disappoint me” — was more familiar than her name.

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That night, Aki opened the drawer. She stared at her medals.

They stared back like silent judges.

Gold. Silver. Bronze. Clean. Cold.

She took a blank sheet of paper and wrote:

> Date: October 24, 2007

New trial: Taekwondo.

Objective: Win.

Consequence: Shame, violence, silence.

*He called it ‘trying my luck.’

But when I win, it’s expected.

When I lose, it’s betrayal.

So what is luck, to someone like me?*

She folded the note, placed it under her pillow.

Then stood.

And began to stretch.

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The next morning, she arrived early at school. Went to the old gym before class. It was mostly empty, dusty mats, forgotten equipment. She kicked once. Weak. Again. Stronger. Muscle memory returning.

Every motion felt mechanical — not like art, not like survival.

More like obligation.

But behind her blank expression, something stirred. Something between bitterness and resolve.

She didn’t want to fight.

But part of her wanted to feel pain that made sense.

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End of Chapter 10

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