March 21
She brought her right foot half a step back—centered her weight. Her hand rose slowly, fingers tightening into a fist. Her eyes locked on the man's nose.
If she hit him square there, it would buy her a second. Two, maybe. Enough to break past the one on her left.
Her heart beat steady. Her breath is quiet.
She inhaled.
Ready.
And then—
A shout.
"Ê mấy thằng kia! Muốn chết à?!"
Yuki froze, her clenched fist hovering by her side as she noticed a shift in the boys' expressions. The one in front of her wasn't looking at her anymore—his gaze had drifted past her, brow furrowed in confusion.
Though tempted to glance behind her, Yuki kept her stance firm, body coiled like a spring. If he moved even slightly, she'd make that nose bleed.
"Anh ơi, bên kia có người kìa," one of the boys muttered, eyes narrowing at something—or someone—behind her.
"Thằng đó dám đe dọa bọn tao hả?" another added with a scoff, lips curling in disbelief.
Yuki didn't dare move, but her senses sharpened. Their cocky posturing wavered, teetering between amusement and uncertainty. Something—someone—was throwing them off. She scanned their faces for clues, resisting the urge to bolt. Not that it would help; two of them still stood behind her, cutting off any easy escape.
This was getting irritating.
"Tôi cảnh cáo các anh. Tránh xa cô ấy. Tôi đã gọi cảnh sát rồi."
(I'm warning you. Stay away from her. I've already called the police.)
Yuki froze. That voice—steady and cold—was unmistakably familiar. It didn't sound angry, just calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that meant danger.
She couldn't understand the words exactly, but the shift in the atmosphere said enough. The boys started shifting uneasily. One of them glanced behind her with a wary expression.
But the ringleader just let out a loud laugh, clapping a hand on his buddy's shoulder.
"Có vẻ như chúng ta có ai đó đang đóng vai Superman ở đây!"
(Looks like we've got someone playing Superman here!)
He looked around at his friends, grinning.
"Có phải điều này hài hước không, các bạn?"
(Isn't this funny, guys?)
They nodded, chuckling half-heartedly—some of them looking more confused than amused.
The ringleader turned his attention back to Yuki, smirking.
"Pretty lady, is that your boyfriend or something? He funny."
Then his smile dropped.
"Tell him to mind his own business, yeah?"
The voice responded again—measured, yet laced with threat beneath the calm.
"Cô ấy rõ ràng không muốn liên quan gì đến bạn."
(She clearly wants nothing to do with you.)
"Tôi nhắc lại lần cuối. Lùi lại đi."
(This is your final warning. Back off.)
Yuki couldn't see him yet, but she felt it—that shift in tone, the tightening of tension in the air. She could practically feel the leash the owner of the voice was holding back on.
The ringleader exhaled sharply through his nose, annoyance flickering across his face. He muttered something under his breath and signaled to the two guys standing behind Yuki. Were they going to try and take her away?
She braced herself.
A rustle of feet. Another shift in the air. The two guys ready to make their move on her.
Her stance tightened, ready to continue the earlier plan of busting a nose and sprinting like hell
But before she could strike–
Footsteps. Fast. Purposeful.
A body slipped into view from the corner of her eye, standing behind her and shielding her from the guy trying to reach her.
Shiro.
No longer was he just a voice from a distance– he was a real presence now. He towered over the two guys, presenting himself as someone imposing. And judging from the shocked expressions he received– it was working.
"Tôi nói rồi. Đừng chạm vào cô ấy." ( I said– don't touch her. )
The words hit different up close. Now that he was closer, and speaking slowly in warning, she more or less understood what he said. She hoped that these guys would understand that message too.
The leader squinted at Shiro now that he was close enough to really see him. Tall. Calm expression. Dressed in jogging attire.
" Hey now, we not trying to hurt her. " He speaks, feigning politeness and a cool expression. " We just want to show her around. So many fun places in Hanoi, yeah? You can come too, brother. "
Is he seriously trying to appease Shiro? Yuki couldn't have figured how stubborn this guy truly is. But glancing at Shiro who didn't even turn back– refusing to entertain this man and refusing to take his eyes off the two guys behind them.
He then spoke, in perfect, low vietnamese.
"Tôi đã nói cảnh sát đang đến. Nếu các anh còn đứng đây thêm một phút nữa, tôi sẽ coi như các anh chọn bạo lực."
(I already told you—the police are on their way. If you're still standing here a minute from now, I'll take it as your choice to escalate. )
That was it. No threat. No shout.
Just a cold reminder.
The tension snapped like a thread pulled too tight. The leader's expression was serious, and Yuki could see him raise his hand, perhaps signaling the guys to go ahead and take action. But then–
Sirens.
Faint, but becoming increasingly near the more they waited.
The boys looked at each other, panicked.
"Chết tiệt," one of them hissed. "Đi thôi!"
( Shit– let's go! )
"Tsk, " The leader clicked his tongue, frustrated.
But he's not foolish enough to ignore it now. The longer they stay, the more likely they are to get caught. And seeing as how neither Shiro nor Yuki have gone physical– the odds are even worse in their favour. All the police will see is a suspicious group surrounding two frightened tourists.
" Better start running. " Yuki taunted, a small smile crept into her expression before adding. " Or is being with the police also a fun time for those in Hanoi? "
The leader takes one last look at her–something between annoyance and bitter amusement–before sneering at her and turning sharply to usher out orders to his guys.
The two of them watched as he and his gang moved to the alleyways, like rats scattering into the home's crevice.
Silence fell, at last. The tension crumbles.
Yuki lets out a sigh, shifting her stance back into its relaxed position, uncurling her fist and her tight expression loosens. She was glad that was over.
" How'd you know I'd be here? " She casually asked Shiro.
" Didn't see you at the hotel, then I met with Mrs. Nguyen and her kid. They said you were taking a walk. " he answered, glancing at her. " I checked all the nearest streets from the center of Old Quarter till I found you surrounded by those guys. "
" Right, " Yuki nodded before taking a moment to observe something missing on his complexion. " It seems to me that it didn't take you that long. You're not sweating. I've got a feeling you were watching that interaction for a while. "
" I wanted to see how you would've handled it, " Shiro admitted, shamelessly. " I stepped in when I knew you were going to throw a punch. "
" You wouldn't have had to. " she said, crossing her arms. " I was just about to handle the situation on my own. "
"By breaking his nose? " Shiro's tone was questioning, but with a clear hint of amusement.
Yuki shrugs lightly, " Just enough to shock him and run away. They wouldn't have been able to keep up with me. " she said in a confident manner. Given their origins, Shiro had no doubts about that. But…
"It would've been better not to let it get to that point at all," he said, voice more serious now. "People like that, in a place that isn't our home... you don't want to escalate unless you have no choice."
His tone wasn't harsh, but it landed like a quiet warning.
She stood still, her arms crossed, eyes locked on the uneven pavement as silence stretched between them. The echoes of earlier thoughts returned like a tide she couldn't hold back.
Here you go again, being nothing but trouble.
The voice—sharp and quiet, uncannily her own—curled through her mind like smoke. It whispered with bitter familiarity, dredging up doubt.
Even if you were the one surrounded… You know damn well how this would've looked from the outside. One punch, and they'd see you as the aggressor. Not the victim.
Her jaw tightened.
Was that what Shiro thought too? That she'd just blindly lash out? That she'd throw the first punch like some reckless tourist unaware of the weight of her actions in a foreign country?
She knew better than that. She wasn't stupid. She wasn't naive.
I didn't ask to be cornered, she thought. They were the ones who wouldn't take no for an answer.
And yet… here he was, speaking to her like she'd dragged this on herself. Like she was the cause of her own chaos.
She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes still downcast.
Why does it still feel like I'm the one being scolded?
" Do you get what I'm saying, Yuki? "
The question hung between them, uncomfortably firm. Yuki's chest rose with a quiet breath as she looked away for a brief second, grounding herself.
This isn't the place to be feeling like this. Get a grip.
Her thoughts cooled like embers smothered under ash. She lifted her gaze again—blank, unreadable. No anger. No defensiveness. Just a mask of calm, like glass over still water.
She reminded herself of her role here. Just a means to an end. A convenience. A passenger on his journey. He was just ensuring his golden goose didn't ruffle the wrong feathers—so he wouldn't have to cut her loose.Once the trip concludes, she is bound to go home anyway.
After all, what other value did she really bring?
"I understand," she replied, her voice smooth, almost too measured. "You don't have to worry, Shiro. Even I know that much. Rest assured, I won't cause you any trouble."
There was no hesitation in her tone—but it didn't sit right with him. It was too calm. Too… rehearsed.
Shiro glanced at her as they walked. Her expression was still, her eyes forward. But something about them felt miles away.
She said she understood him. But something in her tone made him wonder:
Was she agreeing with what I said… or deciding something else entirely?
The atmosphere between them felt eerily familiar—just like the moment they first arrived at the hotel, when he laid bare the real reason she was here. Back then, she had accepted it far too quickly, masking her reaction behind a cool, indifferent facade.
And now… he was getting that same feeling.
Was she slipping behind that mask again?
" Yuki, just what got you so distracted that you let those guys lead you into a place like this? " He decided to probe her directly.
Her unflinching answer.
" Just some thoughts. Nothing too concerning. "
An answer Shiro believed to be otherwise. But before he could ask about it further, the sound of engines and sirens had arrived at their location.
He sighs. Thinking they can discuss it at a later day.
........
After giving the police a full account of the near-incident, the two of them returned to their hotel room. Shiro busied himself at the table, packing essentials into his small backpack—water bottles, snack bars, chargers, and a power bank. The kind of efficient, silent prep that kept him occupied and focused.
Yuki, in contrast, lay sprawled on her bed, scrolling aimlessly through her phone. She hadn't bothered to change or shower, still dressed in the same outfit she wore that morning. If the events from earlier shook her, she showed no sign of it now.
"By the way," Shiro said casually as he zipped up a side pocket, "did you add me to your contacts yet? You saw the note I left under your phone, right?"
"I did," Yuki replied, glancing up before returning her eyes to the screen. "Forgot about it."
Shiro gave a small, exasperated sigh but kept his tone calm. "Alright, how about adding it now?"
He didn't receive an answer for a few minutes, but upon receiving a notification from his phone, he guessed Yuki must've done it quietly. He glances at her– honestly expecting her to show some bit of defiance, to display that passive-aggressiveness she's been giving him since yesterday. But none of that could be found from her expression or her tone.
Looks like this morning's events really brought them back to square one, huh.
"I heard you had breakfast with Mrs. Nguyen earlier?" Shiro decides to dive into a new topic.
Yuki didn't lift her eyes from her phone. "Yeah, I did," she replied, voice neutral. "Why?"
"Funny enough, I ran into Mr. Nguyen during my morning jog," Shiro said, casually, though it caught Yuki's attention. "We made some small talk—nothing major. But when I mentioned our plans for the day he suggested that we come along with his family since they'll be visiting the same landmarks. "
That got her attention. She blinked and slowly set her phone down beside her. Shiro watched her reaction carefully—no signs of resistance, no sarcastic retorts. Just a pause, thoughtful and quiet.
Maybe the idea of having Mrs. Nguyen and little Linh around was more comforting than it being just the two of them. Especially after what happened.
"That sounds nice," she said quietly, almost to herself. "Okay."
Shiro nodded once in acknowledgment and returned to checking the contents of the bag, adjusting a zipper and tucking in a strap.
Truthfully, he was relieved by the Nguyen family's invitation. After this morning's tension, the idea of wandering around Hanoi alone with Yuki—four straight hours of awkward silence and unspoken things—didn't sound ideal. The family's presence might offer a necessary buffer. Maybe even a chance to reset.
......….
It was around nine o' clock when they arrived at the lobby. From the elevator door, they could see little Linh waving at them enthusiastically while her parents nodded at them with welcoming smiles. Shiro and Yuki quickly made their way to them.
" Sorry to keep you waiting. " Shiro apologized.
" Không sao đâu, con trai." The father– Mr. Nguyen, or Mr. Minh An as he'd prefer–dismissed his apology with an easygoing grin. " Still a good morning to explore. " he said.
And then the older man turns to Yuki with a wondering look. " Will your father not be joining us? "
Seriously? We're really sticking to this? Yuki thought with mild amusement.
A quick glance at Shiro confirmed it—his expression calm, unreadable, but definitely signaling: Yes, we are.
Yuki exhaled inwardly and mustered a polite, apologetic smile. "Ah, right. My father has a really important online meeting for work today. So unfortunately, he won't be joining us."
"Ah, that's too bad," Ms. Thảo said, her tone kind. She shared a sympathetic look with her husband. "In that case, would it be alright if we had his number—just in case of an emergency?"
Yuki stiffened slightly. What now? She glanced at Shiro again, this time with clear alarm in her eyes. He remained silent, ever composed, leaving her to improvise.
"Sure… one moment." She pulled out her phone, dialing quickly. Please pick up. Please pick up.
After just two rings, the line connected.
"Yuki! Good morning," her father answered, sounding pleasantly surprised. "Is something wrong?"
"Hi, Dad," she said smoothly, trying to play her part.
There was a beat of silence.
"…'Dad'?" he repeated, puzzled. She rarely called him that.
Yuki winced slightly. That didn't go unnoticed.
She cleared her throat. "Remember the Nguyễn family I told you about earlier?" she said meaningfully. "They were wondering if it's okay to have your contact number—just in case anything comes up while we're out today."
There was a pause on the line. Then, catching on, her father replied, "Ah, of course! Yes, that's perfectly fine."
Yuki exhaled quietly, relief washing through her.
She glanced up to find Mr. Minh An and Ms. Thảo still smiling warmly, and little Linh tugging gently at her mom's hand, already eager to get going.
Shiro, meanwhile, looked as if he expected this to go wrong—but was mildly impressed it didn't.
Yuki handed the phone to Mrs. Thao, letting the parents sort things out directly. With that settled, she drifted back to stand beside Shiro.
"You're lucky he caught on," she muttered. "But do we really have to keep this whole lie going?"
"Fewer questions," Shiro replied simply, as if that explained everything.
He gave her a side glance. "Also… what was with that reaction when you called him 'Dad'?"
"I don't usually call him that," she answered, tone dry.
"So why now?"
Yuki exhaled, as if the answer was obvious. "Because sounding close means fewer questions. Same logic as yours."
Shiro didn't push further. He figured there was more to it, maybe something personal, but it wasn't his place to press. Whatever Yuki's relationship with her father was, it wasn't something he should assume about.
"Here you go, Yuki," Mrs. Thao said as she returned the phone with a smile.
"Chúng ta đi chưa?" Linh suddenly piped up, tugging at her father's sleeve.
(Can we go now?)
Minh laughed, hoisting his daughter up into his arms with practiced ease. "Được rồi, được rồi."
(Alright, alright.)
He turned to Shiro and Yuki with a grin. "Shall we?"
Shiro couldn't help the small, eager smile that crept onto his face. He'd been looking forward to this outing. And judging by how quickly Yuki nodded, her earlier tension had started to fade too, even if by a little.
"Đi thôi mọi người!" Mrs. Thao said cheerfully.
(Let's go, everyone!)
With that, they stepped out of the lobby into the bright Hanoi morning, their day of exploring just beginning.
.........
The first stop: Hoàn Kiếm Lake
Shiro had been to parks, temples, gardens—you name it—but there was something about Hoàn Kiếm Lake that made even him slow down. Maybe it was the way the early sunlight hit the water, turning it almost glass-like. Or maybe it was the stillness in the air, the kind that felt like the world had exhaled for once. The serenity of the lake and its still waters charms him, calms him down. Maybe because decades or centuries ago, the lake remained the same since its formation– not influenced by the creatures living in it. Simply born. And written across time. The context changes the more eyes are on it, yet in the end, it is just a lake. One can write many stories about its significance, but throughout history, it is simply a lake meant to be enjoyed by those who are living.
From where he walked, just beside Mr. Minh, he glanced back to check on the others. Yuki trailed a few steps behind, her posture relaxed but her face unreadable, as always. Little Linh skipped in front, tugging at her mother's hand.
"Cầu đỏ kìa mẹ! Giống cây cầu trong truyện cổ tích á!"
(Look, Mom! The red bridge—it's like the one in fairytales!)
Mrs. Thao smiled, brushing her daughter's hair aside gently.
"Ừ, đẹp lắm. Nhưng con nhớ đi chậm thôi, nghe chưa?"
(Yes, it's beautiful. But remember to walk slowly, okay?)
Shiro watched as they approached the Thê Húc Bridge, its brilliant red color arching gently over the lake's surface. The bridge looked almost theatrical against the soft greens and greys of the water and trees. It reminded him of something out of a painting.
He heard quick footsteps and looked over his shoulder just in time to see Yuki catching up, Linh waving her forward with both arms.
"Chị Yuki, đi nhanh lên! Mình sắp đến đền rồi!"
(Come on, Yuki! We're almost at the temple!)
Shiro couldn't help himself. "Don't fall in."
Yuki gave him a dry look as she passed by. "Same to you."
Across the bridge awaited Ngọc Sơn Temple, a small island regarded as the very heart of Hanoi city. A place of worship for the Vietnamese deities, colorful flora surrounds its traditional architecture, and huge statues resembling themselves as guardians of the holy ground. Countless stories stem from this one place, but its most widespread tale is about the Golden Turtle God and the magical sword of Emperor Lê Lợi.
They stepped onto temple grounds. Inside, the air changed—cooler, calmer, touched by the faint scent of incense that lingered in the wood. Shiro took it in with a quiet breath.
Mr. Minh gestured toward the ancient bronze turtle statue at the center of the temple's display.
"Truyền thuyết nói rằng Hoàng đế Lê Lợi đã trả lại một thanh kiếm thần cho Thần Rùa Vàng tại đây," he said.
("Legend says Emperor Lê Lợi returned a magical sword to the Golden Turtle God here,")
Shiro had read that in a brochure, but hearing it in Mr. Minh's voice gave it a different weight. There was pride in it—pride and reverence.
Linh, wide-eyed, tiptoed closer to the statue.
"Có rùa thật không? Ở ngoài hồ ấy?"
(Are there really turtles in the lake?)
Mrs. Thao crouched slightly beside her daughter, smiling.
"Ngày xưa có một con rất to. Bây giờ thì khó thấy, nhưng biết đâu con sẽ gặp được rùa con."
(There used to be a very big one. Now it's rare, but maybe you'll see a baby turtle.)
Shiro watched the way Linh leaned over the wooden railing with wonder, scanning the water like a tiny explorer. It made something inside him settle. Families like this—they made the world feel a little less sharp. A little less complex, and more so simple.
He turned slightly, only to find Yuki standing near one of the old wooden windows, her gaze locked on the lake through the slats. Her reflection in the dusty glass was faint but still.
"I guess even swords get returned eventually," she murmured, almost too low to catch.
Shiro didn't say anything right away. He wasn't sure if it was meant for him. But it stuck with him.
He watched her gaze quietly linger on the lake's surface—not looking at the rippling water itself, but rather at the reflection staring back at her. Like a stranger displaced from her own life, detached from the present and untouched by the moment unfolding around her. A face caught somewhere between memories that dragged and a future too uncertain to face. Still. Unmoving.
In that moment, Yuki was as motionless as the lake.
And that didn't sit right with him.
Even though she'd left that place years before he did, he couldn't understand why it still clung to her so tightly. Shouldn't she be the one more eager to explore, more awestruck by the world than he was? She had more time, more distance from it all. She should've been full of wonder—like Linh.
A voice pulled him from his thoughts.
"Is your friend okay?"
Mr. Minh's question broke the stillness, and Shiro turned to him.
"Cô ấy có vẻ khá bận tâm," the man added gently.
(She seems quite troubled.)
Shiro hesitated, then answered in kind, "Cô ấy không sao đâu. Đây là lần đầu tiên cô ấy thật sự khám phá những cảnh đẹp như thế này. Có thể cô ấy thấy lo lắng."
(She's alright. It's just… this is her first time really seeing beauty like this. Maybe she's nervous.)
Mr. Minh gave a knowing nod, then said, "Vậy cháu không nghĩ là nên giúp cô ấy sao?"
(Then don't you think you should help her?)
"Help her?" Shiro echoed, caught off guard. "I don't think I can—"
"In Vietnam," Mr. Minh said, switching to English with a calm, thoughtful tone, "friendship… is important. There is trust… and also the heart to help… when someone is in trouble."
He paused, weighing his words, then smiled and patted Shiro lightly on the back. "I have friends too. For a long time. Still strong. You and her—travel together. That means something, doesn't it?"
Shiro didn't answer immediately. The words hung in the air, and he let them settle in.
It wasn't the first time someone had told him something like that. But it was the first time he heard it in a setting like this—with the calm lake, the red bridge, the hazy morning light. For years he'd moved alone, telling himself advice like that wasn't relevant to him. No one stayed long enough for it to matter.
This trip was different.
It was the first time he wasn't traveling solo. The first time someone familiar walked beside him—someone from his past, someone with quiet history stitched between their silences. And yet, despite the shared space and shared path, the distance between them felt vast.
He wasn't used to this closeness. Physical, yes—but emotional? No. It befuddles him.
But wasn't that one of the reasons he agreed to bring her in the first place? Not just because the costs were covered. But because part of him wanted to know what it felt like—to travel with someone. To experience something beyond the solitude.
Still, companionship wasn't something that bloomed from proximity alone. What they had now wasn't friendship—it was tolerance at best. And if that was ever going to change, if that space between them was ever going to shrink…
" Thank you, " Shiro nodded at Minh with a grateful air around him. " "Cháu sẽ ghi nhớ lời khuyên của chú." (I'll remember your advice, uncle.)
Perhaps now, he should give that advice some more thought.
........
The second stop: Văn Miếu – Quốc Tử Giám
By the time they arrived at Văn Miếu – Quốc Tử Giám, the air had warmed, but the atmosphere shifted into something more serene. Enclosed behind stone walls and ancient trees, the Temple of Literature felt far removed from the energy of central Hanoi.
Shiro stepped through the main gate, taking in the elegant layout of the courtyards. Red pillars supported tiled roofs, stone pathways stretched forward in careful symmetry, and bonsai trees sat trimmed with quiet discipline. It reminded him of a place that demanded respect—not through grandeur, but through history.
A few paces ahead, Shiro watched as Yuki was pulled along by little Linh, the child's small hand wrapped tightly around hers. Linh tugged her eagerly toward an old stone stele, eyes wide with curiosity.
"Chị Yuki, chị có thể đọc mấy chữ Trung Quốc này không?"
(Yuki, can you read these Chinese characters?) Linh asked, pointing at the ancient carvings with a look of fascination.
Yuki leaned forward, scanning the faded calligraphy. "They're not exactly the same, Linh," she said gently. "Our writing system came from Chinese a long time ago, so I can recognize some. But it's still tricky."
Shiro kept his distance but listened in with faint amusement. It was rare seeing Yuki this relaxed. Maybe it was Linh's boundless curiosity—or her refusal to let silence linger—that softened Yuki's edges. The little girl bombarded her with questions, switching freely between Vietnamese and English, while Yuki replied patiently, slipping between languages when she needed to. Mr. Minh walked nearby, occasionally adding a historical note or small correction with a warm chuckle.
But Mrs. Thao was noticeably absent.
Until a light tap on his shoulder made Shiro turn. He found her smiling beside him.
"What are you doing back here by yourself?" she asked kindly.
"Just taking in the view," Shiro replied, smiling in return. "Hard to believe this was once a university. It's… peaceful."
Mrs. Thao laughed softly. "It hasn't been used as a school in a long time. Now, people mostly come to worship, especially students praying for luck before exams."
"Oh right—you're a teacher, aren't you?" Shiro recalled. "Yuki mentioned that. Honestly, your English is so fluent I almost forgot. No accent at all—that's impressive."
She waved a hand modestly but looked pleased. "Years of practice. I teach English every day, after all."
They wandered quietly through the ancient courtyards, where centuries-old scholars once walked with heads bowed in thought. Not that it felt entirely scholarly now—more like a peaceful heritage site than a place of rigorous study—but still, something about the place lingered. A hush in the air. An elegance in the old stone and moss-framed paths.
Mrs. Thao filled the silence now and then with gentle commentary, sharing historical tidbits or quirky facts in her soft-spoken voice. Shiro absorbed it all like mental notes for a journal, occasionally lifting his phone to take a picture. The temple complex stretched farther than he expected—at least three courtyards, each one with manicured gardens, bonsai trees, and clear pools that reflected the tiled roofs above.
He could almost see it—young scholars huddled in quiet corners, tracing brushstrokes by lamplight, whispering Confucian teachings. There was a meditative calm to it all, the kind that made time feel irrelevant.
But then something pulled his gaze—Yuki.
She stood a few paces ahead, her phone lifted, taking a photo of Linh and Mr. Minh. Both were grinning widely, the little girl flashing a peace sign. What caught Shiro's attention, though, wasn't the photo—it was how Yuki kept adjusting things. She gently told them where to stand, suggested poses, angled the shot with care, even crouched for a better frame.
It wasn't just a quick snap for memory's sake. She was being… meticulous. Like this mattered.
Shiro tilted his head slightly. Funny—he'd always known Yuki to be reserved. Reserved and guarded. But here, with Linh and her father, she was present. Attentive. Focused in a way he hadn't seen in years.
"Shiro," came a voice beside him, gentle and curious.
He glanced over to find Mrs. Thao watching him with that teacher's gaze—perceptive, kind, but knowing.
"How long have you and Yuki known each other?" she asked.
He hesitated for a beat. "Since childhood…."
Technically it wasn't untrue. But he left out the long stretch of silence between then and now—years when they'd been strangers again.
"I see," she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. "That must be nice. You must trust each other quite a bit, then."
Shiro held her gaze for a moment. The word "trust" echoed in his mind uncomfortably.
"Not exactly," he said honestly, exhaling. "We only just reconnected recently. I moved away for a long time. So… it wouldn't be fair to say we trust each other completely."
Mrs. Thao gave a small nod, as if she'd expected the answer. "I understand," she said kindly. "Sometimes, rebuilding trust is a journey all its own."
Shiro looked forward again. Yuki was showing Linh a photo and smiling as the girl clapped in delight.
What was there to rebuild when it wasn't built the first time? He tries to search in the far edges of his mind— a memory that could prove otherwise, but nothing comes up. Could a mutual understanding of their situation back then be perceived as trust? Could mutual respect of each other's skill be considered as such too?
No. Neither felt right.
Still, they knew each other. Just enough to gain an idea of how they functioned. But not trust, that's for certain.
And yet, as they continued through the temple grounds, Shiro couldn't shake the quiet weight of Mrs. Thao's words. "Rebuilding trust is a journey all its own." She had said it with such disarming simplicity—no dramatics, no pretense. Just the kind of truth that slips under your skin and lingers.
He'd thought about trust before. About friendship, too. But only in passing—fleeting thoughts with no destination. They had never found a place to settle in his mind. For someone who spent most of his time moving, it felt impractical to expect anything permanent.
He met people all the time. Kind people. Curious people. But those connections faded just as quickly as they came. His path didn't allow for much else. And he'd accepted that. The goal had always been to experience, not to entangle. To stay light and leave quietly.
But today hadn't been light.
Today came with weight—and with it, thoughts he hadn't meant to entertain. Ever since the confrontation that morning, something in Yuki had shifted. Or maybe it had only become clearer: the way she seemed to pull back into herself, walls rising higher than when they first stepped foot in Hanoi.
He didn't know what was bothering her. Worse—he didn't know how to ask.
Most days it felt like whatever he said just irritated her, as if he kept stepping on invisible wires without meaning to. As if his presence itself was more of an obligation than comfort.
Still… he couldn't help but feel it was a shame. A shame that even after being free, she still carried the past like a chain around her ankle. That even here, surrounded by new sights, warm people, and all the space in the world, she still couldn't let others in—not even her father.
Her father had brought her here with hope, hadn't he? Hope that travel would shake something loose. That she might remember how to enjoy herself again. Shiro had warned him not to expect anything immediate. He'd said it couldn't be done in a day or a week.
But if he was honest, he hadn't done anything to help either.
He'd kept his distance. Let her be. Gave her room to do what she liked, as long as it didn't cause any trouble. It had seemed like the considerate thing to do.
But maybe it wasn't.
Maybe all that distance had only pushed her further into isolation—because the only person here who truly knew her, who spoke her language, who shared the same haunted memories, was him.
He paused, silently processing that realization.
.....
The third stop: Vietnam Museum of Ethnology
Lunch with the Nguyen family was pleasant, the two Japanese natives were spoiled rotten by the parents and got to try plenty of delicious local cuisines. Conversation was warm, not too invasive, and was totally led by the young Linh with her various innocent, slightly crazy, and heavy imagination questions that would sometimes leave the teens speechless. Shiro knew how… unfiltered kids can be, but to stick around a kid at a table for an hour and half surely was a first-hand experience added into his resume.
Anyway, it didn't take too long of a ride till they had arrived at their next destination, a little while after the clock reached one in the afternoon.
The Museum of Ethnology opened up like a cultural tapestry—spacious, bright, and filled with echoes of stories Shiro didn't yet know but wanted to. Compared to the contemplative quiet of the Temple of Literature, this space buzzed gently with life. Children's voices piped up here and there. Wooden artifacts, woven textiles, tribal tools, and models of traditional houses greeted them like silent hosts from dozens of ethnic groups across Vietnam.
Unlike the last two places they've visited– this felt less sacred and more grounded. A nice change of pace, Shiro would think.
They were led by a tour guide, explaining each exhibit in both English and Vietnamese. The interior corridors contained artifacts, patchworks, clothing–all made by ethnic groups across the country that were passed down through generations.
Shiro was fond of these type of things the most in museums. The items placed behind the glass were just daily items that the villages must've used in their families or community. To most of them, such items would be considered the usual. The mundane. Yet to the city folk it's considered a piece of history that must be treated with respect and reverence. Because the everyday things of people can differ from place to place. Through this, Shiro has acquired plenty of anecdotes over the years he could go on and on about.
Nearby, Linh darted from one display to another, her tiny hands pressed to the glass, eyes sparkling.
"Ba ơi! Cái nhà sàn to quá!"
(Daddy, that stilt house is so big!)
Minh chuckled, catching up to her. "Ừ, cái đó của người Thái đấy con."
(Yes, that's from the Thai ethnic group.)
They manage to see through the outdoor exhibit containing the bigger structures of the museum like houses, huts, camps, and other things. Minh quickly suggested for everyone to head to the exit path leading to the outdoor exhibit in order to get a closer look. So that's what they did.
As they stepped out into the garden, the sun filtered through the bamboo groves and the tall stilts of traditional longhouses. There were rope ladders to climb, narrow doorways to crouch through, floors that creaked with every step. Shiro found himself marveling at the sight. It wasn't something he'd ever experienced back in Japan. Houses there were typically more grounded, harmonizing with nature—subtle, balanced. But these stood tall, almost as if challenging nature itself.
He and Yuki wandered into one of the houses, both silently drawn in by the curiosity to see more. With each step, the floor let out a tired creak beneath their shoes. Birdsong echoed faintly from outside—or maybe not outside at all. They might've slipped in through the windows, looking for warmth or a home among the rafters. It didn't seem like the museum minded.
"Why would the people build this so high?" Yuki half-muttered, her tone thoughtful.
Shiro picked up on it anyway. Even if she hadn't been looking for an answer, he gave one.
"Well… typhoons are pretty common in Southeast Asia," he began, his voice low, casual. "Being near the Ring of Fire makes them vulnerable. A lot of people probably lived near water too, so flooding was always a risk."
He could feel Yuki glance at him, but he kept his eyes ahead.
"Raising their homes on stilts was a smart solution. Especially for people who wanted to stay near the coastline without being swept away," he added, tracing the edge of a wooden table with his finger.
" Interesting, " Was all she said, without anything else to add.
Yet, thinking back to the advice he's received today, he's reminded of his realization.
"Mind taking a picture of me?"
The words slipped out faster than he could catch them. And immediately, Shiro mentally smacked himself for how abrupt it sounded.
Yuki turned to him, visibly caught off guard. "What?"
"I mean—" he hesitated, scratching the back of his neck, "I'm kind of bad at taking pictures… and you seem good at it, so…"
His gaze fixed itself on a nearby wall, studying it with feigned fascination like it was the most interesting architectural feature in the entire museum. Anything to avoid looking directly at her. "Would you mind doing me the favor?"
A beat of silence stretched between them. Awkward. Suspicious.
Yuki didn't answer right away. Instead, she studied him—carefully, curiously—like she was trying to decode the motive behind the sudden request. It didn't go unnoticed that they hadn't spoken properly since they left the previous landmark. That silence lingered like a shadow between them, and now this?
Shiro let out a quiet sigh and turned his head, raising a brow at her. "You gonna answer me, or just keep staring like I grew a second head?"
Yuki blinked. Then—
"A third head, actually," she replied flatly, narrowing her eyes at him.. "You're acting weird."
"Weird how?" he deflected back at her.
"Nevermind," she said, shrugging, then held out her hand. "Give me your phone, then."
He passed it over without a word, handing it to her with deliberate calm.
"So, where do I stand?" he asked, voice a touch lighter now.
"Hm…" Yuki brought the phone up, squinting at the screen as she scanned the courtyard. "Not here—the light's too harsh. Maybe over there, by the bamboo. Less shadows."
They quickly climbed down from the house and found themselves in the courtyard, Yuki leading the way.
Shiro trailed behind, spectating her and how she seemingly fiddled with the filters on his phone. He didn't expect her to pay so much attention to taking pictures, but then again, he recalls how she's almost never without her phone. He just assumed that was to ignore him though.
" Here is perfect, " Yuki pointed to where she was standing, a look of concentration in her eyes. " Stand here. "
" Okay, " He followed her instruction, dutifully standing on the spot she directed while Yuki positioned herself a few meters away. " What now? " he asked.
He hears the click audio from his phone.
" H-Hey–! "
He moved forward, looking confused while Yuki went into the gallery to examine the result.
" Was that it? No cue or anything? What kind of photographer are you? " He said in disbelief.
" Tried to go for a candid look, " She answered, simply, before showing him the photo. " but your neutral expression ended up looking like an angry kappa. "
Shiro didn't feel too pleased being compared to a yokai.
...…..
Final stop: Hanoi Train Street
It was just before three in the afternoon when they returned to the heart of Hanoi, the hum of city life growing louder around them. Their final stop for the day was the famous Train Street—a narrow alley lined with cafés and homes, intersected by steel tracks that still saw daily trains rumbling through. It was as iconic as it was improbable.
"This has to be a hazard," Yuki muttered under her breath, eyeing the proximity of the tables and potted plants to the tracks with mild disbelief.
"Một chuyến tàu sẽ đến, đúng không?" Linh asked eagerly, tugging at her father's sleeve.
(A train will come, right?)
"Chà, những người khác sẽ không ở đây nếu không có họ." Mr. Minh chuckled in return.
(Well, people wouldn't be standing here if there weren't any.)
"Linh bé, hãy ở gần mẹ và bố nhé, được không?" Mrs. Thao gently took Linh's hand, pulling her back a few steps.
(Little Linh, stay close to mom and dad, okay?)
She then turned to Shiro and Yuki, giving them a meaningful glance—the same gentle concern now directed at the two older youths.
"You two as well. Be careful."
Shiro offered a short nod, hands stuffed in his pockets. Yuki followed with a small, amused shrug. Despite the warning, there was something oddly thrilling about being this close to something so precarious. The quiet rumble in the distance seemed to confirm what was coming.
Yuki found it fascinating—how a place like this was even accessible to the public, though only through invitation by the surrounding business owners. A way to prevent overcrowding, they were told. But it was still strange to her, almost unbelievable, that a live train track ran this close to buildings so narrow you could stretch out your arms and touch both sides.
Shiro, meanwhile, couldn't help but compare it to home. Back in Japan, something like this would never be allowed. All the railway lines were constructed at a distance from residential zones, meticulously designed to minimize both danger and noise pollution. But here in Hanoi, practicality seemed to make room for charm—and charm had earned its place. The tracks stayed. The trains still ran, albeit only a few times a day, as Mrs. Thao had explained earlier.
Still, for what it was, this was a thrill worth waiting for. The way the locals and scattered tourists gathered said enough. Everyone knew what was coming. Everyone was ready.
"Chị Yuki, nó đến rồi! Tàu đến rồi!"
(Yuki, look! The train is coming!)
Linh's excited cry broke the air, her small hands tugging eagerly at Yuki's sleeve, eyes wide with anticipation.
"Yeah, I see it." Yuki smiled softly, caught in the little girl's infectious energy.
Shiro stood a few feet back, quietly observing the sudden shift around him. It was like a well-rehearsed dance: the clatter of metal chairs scraping back, tables pulled just a few inches farther from the tracks, business owners speaking quickly to the more distracted tourists to stay alert. There was no panic, only coordination. This was normal for them.
And perhaps that was what made it so thrilling—how something so dangerous had become so ordinary.
" Lùi lại!"
( Stand back!)
The train's horn sounded as it finally arrived, bringing along a breeze that amazed the crowd as it was passing. Everyone around the area cheered, especially those who have waited here quite a while. The event felt brief– but not fleeting. Everyone here was simply happy to be present.
As the final rumble of the train faded into the distance, a quiet cheer rippled through the crowd. The tension dissolved as quickly as it had come, replaced by laughter, resumed conversations, and the scraping of chairs sliding back into place. Linh clapped her hands, still buzzing with excitement, and Yuki gave a small nod of acknowledgment to Mrs. Thao, who had made sure they were all standing at a safe distance.
Shiro glanced at the time on his phone. Nearly 3:30 PM.
The day had moved faster than expected.
It was strange—he didn't feel tired, exactly. His legs had taken him across lakeside paths, temple courtyards, old scholarly halls, and even through reconstructed ethnic longhouses. And yet, somehow, he felt more aware than ever. As if Hanoi's constant current had kept his mind moving just as much as his feet.
Mr. Minh clapped his hands once, gently gathering their attention.
"Alright," he said with a warm smile. "Shall we end the day with something a little special?"
"Special?" Shiro echoed.
Mrs. Thao answered for him. "The water puppet show. It's nearby."
Shiro blinked. "I've… heard of it, but never seen one."
"Then today is a good day," Mr. Minh said proudly. "A story told without needing to speak the same language."
Yuki raised a brow, intrigued. Mrs. Thao notices and pats Yuki's back with a smile.
" It was Linh who suggested it. She really wanted to see it. So I hope you're still not tired. " She said.
" I'm still good to go," Yuki confirmed.
She feels a familiar tug on her sleeve, and she looks down to see Linh beaming at her with a bright smile that seemed far from tired. " It's…really awesome! " she said in english.
Well, if Linh felt the need to emphasize that in English. Then that must mean that it is worth something to look forward to.
" Let's go then, " Yuki said, mimicking the girl's smile. " I'd love to see it. "
......…
The surprise stop: Thăng Long Water Puppet Theatre
The theatre was smaller than Shiro expected—modest, almost humble—but filled with warmth. Wooden beams arched overhead like an inverted boat, and the scent of aged lacquer mingled with the earthy dampness rising from the shallow pool that served as a stage. Overhead, red lanterns cast a soft glow, and the murmur of hushed voices surrounded them, everyone waiting for the performance to begin.
They found their seats near the center. Mr. Minh helped Linh climb into hers between him and Mrs. Thao, who gently brushed her daughter's bangs out of her face and handed her a small packet of roasted lotus seeds. Linh beamed.
"Chị Yuki, anh Shiro, are you excited?" she whispered, her small voice barely rising above the hum of the crowd.
Shiro smiled. "I've never seen anything like this before."
"Me neither," Yuki added, resting her hands on her lap. Her voice was quiet, but softer than earlier in the day. Gentler.
The house lights dimmed. A hush fell like a wave over the room. To the side, musicians in traditional áo dài lifted their instruments—the đàn bầu, the drums, the flute—and played the opening notes. A man and woman began to sing in northern Vietnamese, their tones clear and lilting, like wind skipping over water.
Then, from behind the ornate wooden pagoda that masked the puppeteers, the water stirred. A puppet emerged—Teu, the village jester with his broad smile and cheeky eyebrows—eliciting giggles from children and a chuckle from Mr. Minh. Linh clapped her hands lightly, already entranced.
The show unfolded in vibrant, fluid scenes: farmers tending rice fields with buffalo, a fisherman hauling up a net full of wooden fish, a couple dancing during a festival under painted paper lanterns. The puppets bobbed and swirled over the water as if alive, their colors vivid even in the dimness. Smoke effects and bursts of water punctuated the transitions, eliciting oohs from the crowd.
Then came the quieter tale—Lê Lợi and the sacred sword, the legend of Hoàn Kiếm Lake. The puppet of the emperor moved solemnly across the stage, lifting his tiny arms to return the sword to the golden turtle that rose from the water like a god of myth. The music slowed, filled with reverence.
Yuki leaned forward slightly, her eyes catching the pale shimmer of stage light. Shiro glanced at her, catching the way her gaze stilled. She was quiet—but not disconnected.
She's here, if only just a piece of her.
Shiro exhaled, leaning back in his seat. "Stories passed down through water," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "Strange how something so playful can feel so serious."
"They're more than stories," Yuki replied, not taking her eyes off the stage. "They're… memories. Performed, not told."
Her words surprised him. He hadn't expected a thoughtful perspective to come from her. Perhaps he had underestimated her, or paid less attention. He needed to change that.
Shiro turned back to the performance. In that moment, he found himself wondering how many versions of history lived inside people too—beneath the surface, waiting to emerge like puppets from the pool.
What if Yuki was just like that too? Waiting underneath the surface for someone to bring her out.
As the show reached its finale—a dragon and phoenix circling one another amid fountains and sparks—Linh grabbed her mother's arm.
"Mẹ! Đẹp quá!" she whispered in awe.
(It's so beautiful, Mom!)
Mrs. Thao smiled and kissed the top of her daughter's head. "Con thích là mẹ vui rồi."
(If you like it, then I'm happy.)
The final burst of music rose, and the puppeteers briefly stepped out from behind the pagoda to bow, soaking wet but smiling. Applause thundered through the small theatre. Linh clapped the loudest.
...….
As soon as they stepped into the hotel lobby, Shiro turned to the couple with a small bow of gratitude.
"Thank you for letting us join you today," he said.
Mr. Minh nodded, eyes warm. "Cảm ơn bạn đã tham gia cùng chúng tôi." ( Thank you for coming along.)
Mrs. Thao smiled gently, a hopeful glint in her eyes. "We hope the two of you had a good time."
"We did," Yuki replied quickly, almost without thinking. The sincerity in her voice caught Shiro off guard—but pleasantly so..
"I agree," he added, meeting her gaze for a brief moment. "It was a day well spent."
Their attention drifted to Linh, fast asleep in her father's arms, her head tucked against his shoulder, mouth slightly open in the depths of a peaceful dream.
"At last," Yuki murmured with a soft chuckle. "She's finally worn herself out."
Mrs. Thao gave a sigh, brushing a strand of hair from Linh's forehead. "Thank you both… especially for keeping her so happy. She's going to remember this day for a long time."
"Really, it was no trouble," Yuki said kindly. "She was a joy."
"A little whirlwind of joy," Shiro added, smiling.
Then, Mr. Minh spoke up.
"So… how long will you two be staying here again?"
Shiro blinked. "We're here for two weeks. Why do you ask?"
Mrs. Thao's smile grew a touch brighter. "That's perfect. Linh wanted to ask if you two would come to her birthday party this Friday."
Shiro and Yuki exchanged a glance—an unspoken conversation in a single look—and then nodded in unison as they turned back to face her.
"Sure," they both said, almost at the same time.
"We'd love to."
...….
" I'm back. "
Shiro announced as he walked inside the hotel room with two plastic bags in hands., he could spot Yuki lounging on her bed. The smell of flowery shampoo floating in the air probably meant she'd just finished bathing, if not evident by her still drying hair.
A while ago, he had told her to go up by herself since he planned to buy some extra stuff for their trip tomorrow. He places the items on the counter, with Yuki only glancing up from her phone for a moment in quiet observation.
He takes out hats, umbrellas, clothing…. all seemed to be in order.
Then, without a word, he opened the drawer of his desk and pulled out a slim, worn book.
"Hey, Yuki," he said, walking over with it in hand.
She glanced up, brows furrowed slightly, as he dropped it on the edge of her bed near her leg.
"I think you'll find this useful."
She sat up, brushing her hair over her shoulder as she picked it up and eyed the cover.
"…You got me a Vietnamese language book?"
"Yep," he said simply.
Her gaze narrowed. "Why? I can just study online."
"Then use both," he replied without missing a beat. "Besides, books don't have apps to distract you. Helps with focus."
He flopped down onto his own bed with a sigh.
"It's the same one I used when I first started. Flip through it—there are notes in there. Might help."
Curious despite herself, Yuki thumbed through the pages. There were small, tidy annotations penciled in beside vocabulary and grammar explanations. Circles, arrows, occasional mnemonics. His handwriting was neat, efficient. Thoughtful.
He spoke again, softer this time. "The places we're going next are deeper into the countryside. Not everyone's going to speak English like they do here in the city. It'll help to understand more than just the basics."
Yuki glanced at the book once more before quietly placing it on the nightstand. "Alright," she murmured. She'd read it—just not yet.
Still, something about this gesture, about the whole day, left her unsettled.
Actually, now that she thought about it… he'd been acting strange since morning. Not just polite—soft, almost watchful. She'd caught him looking at her from the side more than once, as though weighing something he couldn't name.
She tried not to think about it. Maybe he was just being careful. Maybe it was pity.
She hated that possibility.
"You're wondering what's up with me, huh?" Shiro suddenly said, cutting through the quiet. "If I'm acting out of pity, or guilt or… something like that."
She looked at him slowly.
He met her gaze and gave a dry little laugh. "You don't have to say anything. I already know."
For a while, the silence resumed as he furrowed his brows in thought of how to word what he wanted to say.
Yuki sat still, her eyes fixed on the TV across the room, though she couldn't have said what was playing. The screen flickered, sound low—background noise for a silence that felt heavier by the second.
"You already know the conditions of this trip, right?" Shiro finally said.
She resisted the urge to sigh. Of course she knew. She just didn't need to be reminded. Instead, she gave a noncommittal hum in response.
He didn't stop.
"I didn't lie… but I didn't tell you everything either."
That made her turn. Her head tilted slightly as her eyes met his, surprised enough to forget whatever indifference she had tried to maintain.
"What do you mean?"
Shiro held her gaze. Calm. Honest. No trace of his usual teasing or evasiveness.
"The deal was real. I brought you so your dad would agree to cover the costs."
Blunt. But then his voice lowered a notch.
"…But it would be nice if you actually enjoyed the trip. For your own sake."
She stared at him, caught somewhere between suspicion and something softer. He continued, words slow, measured.
"It's not pity. Don't twist it into that." He exhaled. "This is my first time doing something like this—with someone else. I'm used to traveling alone. Seeing things alone. Processing everything on my own terms."
He leaned back, fingers loosely laced in his lap.
"But you're here. And yeah, that changes things."
Yuki raised a brow. "Because I bring trouble?"
Shiro nearly grins.. "Yeah," he said with zero hesitation—exactly what she expected.
But then he added, "Still… I'm willing to deal with that. If it means you can actually relax. Enjoy this with me."
She didn't reply right away.
Neither did he.
The silence this time didn't feel as heavy. Just… uncertain. Waiting.
And it was Shiro who didn't want to wait any longer.
"We're stuck together for two weeks," Shiro said, voice steady but not unkind. "We can't keep playing this game of who can tolerate the other longer."
He let that sit for a beat before continuing.
"Let's just be… cordial. Let's both relax, take things in without judgment. Enjoy the moment for what it is—before we eventually go our separate ways."
He turned to her, expression open. "What do you say?"
This time, the silence was hers to break.
Yuki sat with his words, turning them over carefully in her head. He hadn't apologized—she didn't expect him to—but he'd offered something else instead. Something real. There was clarity in what he said. Honesty, at the very least.
She didn't quite know what she felt about it yet. But she thought back to the day—the heaviness that had hovered since morning, the thoughts she couldn't seem to shake. Then came Linh's chatter, her parents' warmth, the laughter over lunch, the awe of the puppet show. For a few hours, it had all felt… lighter. Like the sky after rain.
Of course, whenever she was left alone—like at the lake—those thoughts crept right back in. She hated that. And so far, being around Shiro hadn't felt all that different from being alone.
But now, he was offering something unexpected.
To enjoy it. Together.
She was honestly surprised he even knew what that meant.
Would saying yes actually change anything between them? Probably not. But still…
She had grown to appreciate this country, this unfamiliar but vibrant world. There were still so many places left to see. And truthfully, she couldn't do it alone.
…So maybe, just maybe, she'd give it a shot.
If it meant the past could stay quiet—just a little longer.