Leaving for Phú Quốc

Fire ate the sky.

The sound hit after—the kind that takes the breath first, then the scream.

I didn't think.

I ran.

Lanterns were ash. Wood, glass, bodies—indistinguishable.

The smell was all wrong. Oil, skin, fire.

But I knew where she was. I knew.

"Don't be here… Please go away."

I clawed through debris like it owed me answers.

Coughing. Crying.

Not sure whose lungs were tearing apart.

Then I saw her.

Crushed under half the counter and what was left of her dream.

Blood under her, sticky and thick.

One leg gone to pulp. The other barely holding shape.

But her eyes—still open.

Alive.

Barely.

"You came," she breathed.

My knees hit the ground so hard I didn't feel the pain until later.

I held her face.

She smiled.

That stupid, beautiful smile. Even now.

"Let me die in your arms."

I shook my head, laughed.

Laughed because I was already crying.

"No," I said. "Die in fucking Sam's."

But I was still holding her.

The flames were roaring

She was not gone.

I carried her out of the dust like a curse I refused to return to heaven.

Her blood, warm as summer rivers, seeped through my shirt.

My arms, unshaking.

My heart, not brave—but bound.

Let her live. Just long enough to hate me properly. Please.

The café behind us sagged into ruin.

Wood and glass groaned their last lullaby.

I laid her on the rover bench—gently, like she was still whole.

Like her legs weren't mangled into memory.

Her lips were parted.

Not a breath. Not a word.

Just silence.

That cruel, pulsing kind.

I cracked the med-kit.

Needle. Vial. Compress.

My hands betrayed me.

They trembled not from fear, but memory.

I whispered her name like a soldier's prayer.

The stabilizer bit her skin.

Still, no response.

Come back. If only to say you hate me one last time.

Then—a sound. Faint.

A monitor's whimper.

(She's alive.)

The world should've paused.

But war never listens.

A shriek. Metal cutting air.

The drone came low, humming death like a vulture.

I turned.

Rifle in hand. Old friend, cruel witness.

The air around me blurred—heat, smoke, grief.

I fired once—clean.

Let that be your lullaby.

It spiraled, then burst.

Cinders scattered like her childhood stories.

Another screamed in. Sam's voice rose behind me, calm in the storm:

"Three on the ridge!"

He fired.

I followed.

Rounds sang from our barrels—a deadly duet.

The alley lit up with vengeance.

I didn't think.

I moved.

Like her breath was tied to the rhythm of my fire.

Backup stormed in—uniforms stained with urgency.

They brought order. We brought ruin.

The final drone fell like a black star from the sky.

I stood there.

Her blood still on my hands.

Just a man too stubborn to let her go.

She hadn't woken.

But she breathed.

And in that breath—however faint—I swore:

I'd become more than what I was the day I left her.

We were catching our breath.

Sam crouched beside me, sweat running down his brow like ink.

The med-patch on her ribs pulsed faint green.

The ocean should've calmed me.

It didn't.

I looked up—just once.

Just long enough to see the sea was no longer blue.

Ships.

Dark silhouettes. Five. Maybe six.

Low to the water. No flags. No mercy.

The kind that didn't need camouflage because fear did the job.

Sam followed my gaze.

His whisper was all air.

"Fleets."

Not ours.

Missile heads glinted in the dying moonlight.

I blinked once, slow—like if I didn't, the scene might change.

Maybe it was the sea playing tricks.

It wasn't.

The café behind us smoldered in silence.

The waves before us carried thunder.

The rover's wheels kicked up ash and silence.

The world behind us burned quietly—no cries, no sirens, just the red smear of Toui's café bleeding into the horizon.

The scent of salt and soot followed us like a ghost.

She was in my arms, head against my chest, her legs a ruin of blood and bone.

She hadn't moved. Not once.

"Stay with me," I whispered, not sure if I was praying or begging or simply trying not to fall apart.

Sam was at the controls, swearing under his breath as he navigated the twisted beach road.

Chi's voice echoed over comms—clipped, cold, surgical.

Backup en route. Rendezvous at the outpost.

He didn't ask how she was.

Maybe he already knew.

I laid her on the makeshift medical bed in the back.

Stabilizers hissed to life.

The injectors clicked in.

Her vitals flickered—unstable, then steadied. Barely.

Her lashes twitched.

She wasn't gone.

Not yet.

I sank to my knees beside her.

My hands were soaked, sticky with her blood.

The kind of red you don't forget.

The kind that lives in the corners of your dreams.

"You idiot," I said under my breath, trying to laugh. Failing. "Always had to get the last word, didn't you?"

A beep.

Another one. Faster now.

"Don't die in my arms," I said. "Die in Sam's if you must. But not mine. Not now."

The words stung.

Because I meant them.

And because I didn't.

A glint outside the windshield snapped me out of it.

A drone. Then another. High-pitched whine. Too fast.

"Sam—"

"I see 'em!"

I grabbed the rifle off the side hatch and shoved the top open.

Air roared in. Salt and wind and heat all at once.

The drone locked.

I locked back.

One shot. One kill.

The sky popped white.

I took down another.

Sam swerved, growling as he dodged debris.

The cliffs were near now.

The outpost within reach.

More drones.

Backup fired from the ridge—blue tracers lighting the dusk.

They were covering us. Just barely.

But all I could do was crouch back beside her again, wipe the sweat from her brow, and whisper words I hadn't said in years.

"I'm here. You're not alone. Not this time."

Toui's blood was everywhere.

My palms. My collar. The seat.

Still warm—too warm.

She murmured something. A name, maybe. Or just a sound.

Her eyes half-opened, then slid shut again like curtains giving up the sun.

"Don't you fade," I muttered, holding her tighter. "You don't get to do that. Not now. Not with me."

Sam swerved to avoid another crater.

The rover jumped—metal groaning—and my shoulder cracked against the frame.

Didn't care.

Above us, the sky buzzed again.

Drones.

Two, maybe more.

Couldn't tell in the dark.

One already had a lock.

"Weapon systems offline! EMP last hit knocked 'em!" Sam shouted.

"Manual it is," I snapped.

I handed Sam the stabilizer pack.

"Keep her alive."

Then I climbed up. Rifle slung. Eyes burning.

Cold wind slapped me like punishment.

I aimed. Waited.

But I didn't have to fire.

From the left ridge—spotlights.

Then came the roar of allied engines.

Three armored bikes shot forward, their riders in our sector's dark combat gear.

A fourth—a truck-mounted cannon unit—parked on the hill and blasted the first drone out of the sky in a burst of sparks and falling smoke.

"Backup's here!" Sam yelled.

Chi's voice crackled through again, calmer this time:

"Fall in behind the convoy. We've got your trail now. Keep her breathing."

The hum of generators filled the silence Toui left behind.

Outside the surgical tent, I stood still.

Arms folded so tight they ached.

Blood had dried on my sleeves.

Hers. Mine.

I didn't care anymore.

A medic passed.

I asked nothing.

He said nothing.

Just pity in his eyes.

I hated that look.

Then the flap opened.

A tall figure in scrubs—the lead surgeon, maybe.

Face tired. Gloves stained.

He didn't remove his mask.

"She's alive?" I asked. Or maybe I growled it.

He didn't answer.

"I asked you a question," I said, stepping forward. "Is she alive?"

"Sir, I'm not authorized to disclose patient status," he replied, clipped. "Commander Chi will speak to you shortly."

Authorized.

I saw red. My fist clenched like a reflex.

"I carried her out while half the sky tried to murder us. She was bleeding on my chest and you're telling me I need clearance?!"

"Sir—"

"Fuck your protocol!"

I didn't notice how loud I'd gotten—until a few medics turned. One flinched.

The doctor took a half-step back.

Then —

"Hey. Hey—S."

Sam's voice cut through.

He grabbed my shoulder. Firm. Steady.

"She's in good hands," he said. "Yelling at the guy stitching her up doesn't help."

I wanted to push him off.

Break something.

Anything.

But my legs buckled instead.

And for a moment, all I could say was:

"I shouldn't have let her stay."

Sam didn't let go.

He exhaled, eyes tired.

"Look… I was just with Chi."

I turned to him.

He hesitated. Then said:

"We're pulling out. Philippines, Taiwan… then Japan. By sea. China's taken down every airbase between here and Hue. Honai's half gone already. The coastlines are burning."

I felt the words, but they didn't register.

"I'm not leaving her."

"You think I want to? But this isn't about wants. We've got two hours. Just under."

The silence settled again.

And then—boots scraping in gravel.

Chi approached. Face unreadable.

But his eyes said enough.

I stepped forward.

My voice cracked without warning.

"Chi?"

He didn't blink.

"Toui's gone."

Two words.

And the world just… stopped.I couldn't believe it.No.

I didn't believe it.

I stepped closer to Chi.

"Just… let me see her. Once."

Chi didn't look at me. He whispered:

"I'm sorry. You're already down. You're not in a state to process that. We can't lose you too."

I wanted to punch him.

Scream.

But then he said, quiet like wind in ruins—

"She was my niece too."

And I remembered.

Toui, age twelve, clinging to Chi's arm in a photo he once kept in his old wallet.

The one we laughed at in Honai when the world still had music.

I staggered back like someone had hit me in the chest.

"I'm… sorry," I said. "I thought… if I just kept going… If I just kept saving people… it would erase the shit I did. That I let happen."

No one spoke.

I sank to the ground beside the gravel, knees drawn up, elbows on thighs, forehead pressed to fists.

Everything felt off.

My skin felt too tight.

My hands couldn't stay still.

Breath—shallow. Fast.

I could hear my own heartbeat.

Louder than the distant bombs.

My mind was a projection room with no one manning it—flashing scenes I didn't want:

Her helping me train.

The smell of roasted peanuts and blood.

That time she hummed under her breath while on a mission that we skipped and went to

Vườn quốc gia Tam Đảo.

That's where I confessed to her.

And then—

The explosion.

I clenched my fists till the nails bit in.

I wanted the pain.

I needed it.

To make it real.

It's your fault. You should've gotten there earlier. You stayed behind. You hesitated.

I started whispering, maybe out loud, maybe not.

"I promised I'd get stronger. I promised I'd change."

Sam crouched next to me.

I didn't look at him.

> "What now?" I asked. Voice hollow. "Do we run again?"

"We save Osaka" he said.

I laughed. A short, broken sound.

Save a fucking city where I've never been to?

But all she wanted was to me being a good person like I was back then.

It's 4:21 AM. Dinh Temple, Ninh Bình.

The temple stood silent beneath the shroud of early morning.

Moss clung to its stone base.

The crimson pillars, faded with age, caught the softest trace of dawn.

Incense smoke still hung from someone else's memory.

I stood alone in the courtyard.

My boots scuffed against the worn tiles.

I looked up at the wooden eaves, cracked and soaked with centuries of prayers I never believed in.

"I'm a fucking atheist," I muttered. "You knew that."

But I also knew she wasn't.

She'd light incense when she was nervous.

Kept that stupid string of prayer beads in her bag, always broken in the same spot.

I knelt anyway.

"I don't know if this matters. But I know you believed it did."

Silence.

No warmth.

No sign.

Just the wind cutting through the trees.

I placed a single incense stick in the ash.

"Wherever your soul went, I hope you get peace. I hope—"

Sam's voice broke through the stillness.

"S, we should be moving."

I didn't look back.

Just let the words fall quiet.

"I'll change. I swear it. I'll bring peace—like you wanted. No more blood if I can help it."

The match went out in my hand.

The wind carried the smoke away.

I stood.

I didn't believe in gods.

But I believed that she was my savior.

Inside the truck, map screens flickering, Sam pointed to a battered tablet.

"We're taking QL1A. That's the national route—runs down the spine of Vietnam. Starts from here in Ninh Binh, through Thanh Hóa, Nghệ An, Quảng Bình… straight down through the central stretch. Hue, Da Nang, Ho Chi Minh—every damn place still holding on. After that, we push west toward Ha Tien, just near the Cambodian coast. From there, we get on the boat and cross.

"It's 1,400 kilometers. If nothing goes wrong, that's 20 hours minimum. But we're not stopping. Not this time. Coastlines are getting hammered. Honai's already half gone. China's cleaning the board. Air's not an option—they bombed every base north of Saigon.

"So yeah—we go now. No sleep. No refuel stops unless we absolutely have to. If we're lucky, we cross by midnight. If not… we don't make it out at all."

I didn't want to talk much.

Just played "Slip-On" by BoyWithUke on the music player.

And said:

"Let's go to Phú Quốc."