"Bang! That's what you yell when you take out the enemy."
The training officer pressed the barrel of his gun to the temple of a student standing beside him. Nearly a hundred pairs of eyes on the drill ground turned toward them. His voice stayed cold as ice.
"And if you get shot, you… die. Drop dead on the spot!" He gave the student's knee a swift kick, sending the young man crumpling to the ground. The officer's gaze swept the tense faces around him with clear satisfaction. "I'll repeat: point your gun at the enemy and shout 'Bang.' Understood?"
"Understood!" The chorus of replies came out uneven, short on conviction.
"Form into groups of three to five, each circling your assigned table."
The officer barked the order, and the crowd shuffled into position. On each table lay the disassembled parts of a rifle, neatly arranged.
Dung, Đông Anh, and Hiền ended up in the same group. The three traded wary looks. Đông Anh's eyes carried hesitation, but the other two's were all sharp edges and fight.
"Đông Anh, you gonna shoot me first, or Dung?" Hiền asked, glancing at Đông Anh before locking his stare on Dung.
"I'll take you out first, Hiền" Dung said with a half-smile.
Looking at the two, Đông Anh could feel the quiet hostility simmering between them.
"You two don't think I might just take you both out?" Đông Anh asked.
"Fine by me, just let me take Hiền down first, then you can shoot me."
The officer's voice cut through their little standoff: "When I count to three, you start. Got it?"
"Got it!"
"One… two… three."
The battle had begun.
Whether they liked it or not, the students had no choice but to scramble for weapons. One by one, they rushed to assemble the rifles—grip, stock, and finally… cock the bolt.
Two barrels pointed straight at each other's foreheads. Behind them, two pairs of blazing eyes locked in a deadly stare—Dung and Hiền, face-to-face.
"So it's finally come to this," Dung sneered, curling his lip.
Now it was either both of them going down, or a third player stepping in to finish one off. Đông Anh had already put his gun together, but his hesitation hadn't gone anywhere. Should he shoot the street hustler who never left his post beside Đông Anh, or the radical student always ready to spark a riot?
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Cries of 'Bang!' exploded all across the field. Bodies dropped fast, one after another. Life and death were decided in a blink. The chaotic scene finally pushed Đông Anh to raise his weapon.
"Don't," Dung warned.
With one hand still aiming at Hiền, Dung used the other to lower Đông Anh's rifle before the kid could fully take aim.
"Don't take part in this ridiculous war."
Hiền snorted, a bitter grin curling at his lips.
Just then, Đông Anh sensed someone closing in. He instinctively sidestepped, and a sharp Bang! echoed out. The mystery attacker's aim went off-course, and the barrel grazed Đông Anh's upper arm. The cold kiss of steel made him freeze in place, briefly convinced he'd just been shot. But Dung moved faster. He grabbed the attacker by the collar and yanked him down hard. Pouncing like a beast, Dung straddled him and rammed the gun forward, shouting:
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Three shots, fired in a fury. But even after that, Dung didn't let go. His grip was so tight, the attacker's eyes bulged, mouth hanging open, gasping.
Bang!
A fourth shot cracked the air—too close for comfort. Dung's heart nearly stopped. He looked back and saw Hiền lying flat on the ground. The shooter? The training officer. The man loomed over Hiền's body, speaking with icy disdain:
"One second of distraction is all it takes to get your brains blown out."
Those still standing stopped their play-killing and turned to listen to the officer.
"Let me remind you: on the battlefield, mercy is your enemy. Shoot, or get shot. Understood?"
"Understood!"
"Squad, return to your positions!" the officer barked.
Only then did the attacker under Dung start squirming, trying to break free. But Dung held on, staring hard into his face. Dung frowned, there was a faint whiff of kerosene on the guy's clothes.
"Let me go!" the attacker yelled, shoving Dung off and bolting.
Dung sat up and turned to Đông Anh. "Sir, do you know that guy?"
"No," Đông Anh replied, shaking his head. His right hand was still gripping his left bicep where the barrel had struck.
"You got hit there?" Dung asked, eyeing the spot.
Đông Anh glanced down and chuckled. "Would you look at that, this whole act had me thinking I actually got shot!"
Unlike Đông Anh's lightheartedness, Dung's eyes were clouded with guilt and worry. He placed his hand on the imaginary wound and gently brushed his thumb across Đông Anh's skin.
"Come on, let's go fall in line," Đông Anh said, tugging him along.
The officer's voice cut in again:
"You've got ten minutes to shoulder your rifles, run them to the depot, and make it to the mess hall. Anyone not there in ten minutes doesn't eat. Got it?"
"Got it!"
Đông Anh shouted out loud, then eagerly slung his rifle over his shoulder.
Dung, meanwhile, sighed lazily:
"Sir, there's no need to strain yourself. We'll still get a spot, don't worry.!"
"I plan to earn that meal fair and square. No special treatment."
"Get ready… run!"
At the word run, the group exploded like a kicked hornet's nest, stampeding toward the depot, drowning out Dung's yell:
"Út!"
Cursing, Dung tore after Đông Anh on instinct.
"Wait for me! Don't run off by yourself!"
He shoved another runner aside to stay by Đông Anh's side.
"Sir, can you hear me?" he huffed, nearly winded. "Don't you dare leave my line of sight!"
"Then you'd better keep up," Đông Anh said with a mischievous grin and sprinted even faster.
"Út…" Dung wheezed, chasing after. Like it or not, he had to admit—the kid had a whole lot more stamina than his scholarly looks let on.
.
"I'm dead…" Dung bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for air. The chase after Đông Anh had accidentally landed him among the first few to arrive at the mess hall.
"Hurry up and grab your tray!" Đông Anh gave Dung a shake by the shoulder, ready to pull him along. But Dung quickly waved him off, shaking his head.
"No, no, I'm beat. You go ahead. I'll grab us a seat."
"What if it runs out because you didn't go get yours?"
"I won't starve, don't worry. Just worry about your own meal." Dung patted Đôg Anh's back encouragingly, then shuffled toward an empty table and sat down.
A barricade had been set up at the mess hall entrance, blocking out a large group of exhausted, angry trainees. Some began shouting in protest. A few others, more observant, slipped off toward another route—one that led to the officers' dining area. It wasn't exactly inviting, but hunger made people reckless. That route only opened for a few privileged faces; the rest were shoved back out.
Dung took in the scene outside but didn't bat an eye. It was all too familiar. He stretched out his stiff leg, eyes drifting toward the food line. "At least I don't have to fight for it today," he thought, feeling quite pleased as Đông Anh returned with a tray and a smile. Dung pulled out a chair and helped him set the tray down.
"Feeling better? Sit and eat with me, I got a lot of food today," Đông Anh offered.
"You go ahead, sir. I'll eat later. With this few people, we won't be running out of food anytime soon." He handed Đông Anh a spoon and chopsticks. "Eat up quick so we can hit the bunks."
Đông Anh said nothing more, quietly eating while Dung sat watching him.
"Stop staring. It's weird, I can't eat like that," Đông Anh said.
"What? Back home, didn't you always have maids hovering around while you ate?"
"That's different. And… you're not a maid."
"Oh? Then what am I to you, sir?"
Đông Anh hesitated, unsure how to answer. "If I said I thought of you as a servant, would you be okay with that?"
"Then would that give me permission to overstep my boundaries with you?" Dung murmured into Đông Anh's ear. Then, with a quick motion, he brushed off a grain of rice stuck to the boy's lip.
"I…" Đông Anh faltered, caught off guard by the eyes watching them from across the room.
"…I think of you as a friend."
Face flushing, Đông Anh hurriedly finished the last few bites and stood up to clean his tray.
"Drink your water before you go. I'll take care of the dishes," Dung said, pulling him back gently and sliding the cup toward him.
Đông Anh did as told, quickly gulped it down, and slipped away. Seeing this, Dung let out a satisfied grin. He stood, picked up the tray, and walked it over to the dishwashing station.
There, Hưng and Phú were elbow-deep in dirty trays. Dung casually dropped his own tray with a loud clatter in front of them.
"You son of a—!" Phú glared up at him.
"Eyes down and keep scrubbing," Dung warned lowly. "Unless you want three meals a day of this."
"You bastard…"
Phú started toward him, but Hưng pulled his friend back. Dung scoffed at them, then glanced toward Hiền—who was quietly dumping leftover food into a waste bin.
"Remember what I said—watch your damn eyes," Dung threw over his shoulder before walking off.
"That asshole… I'm not letting this go," Phú growled.
"Whatever you're gonna do, wait till we're out of here. He's got too many people backing him up around here," Hưng said.
As for Hiền, he didn't join the bickering. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on Dung, following him with his gaze. The moment he saw Dung heading toward the dorm block, his heart began to pound. He glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention, then quietly followed.
By the time Hiền reached the hallway, Dung was nowhere in sight. He hesitated, trying to decide what to do.
"That bastard's definitely up to something…" Hiền thought, clenching his fists and quickly heading toward his room.