Chapter 12 — The Arrow That Missed the Mark

The regional qualifying day took place on a Sunday morning in late November, at the stadium of another high school in the area, which was chosen as a neutral location for all participating schools. Thanh Tam woke up at five o'clock in the morning, even though the competition only started at eight o'clock, not because she needed to prepare for a long time, but because she couldn't sleep anymore when the feeling of nervousness crept into every fiber of her body.

She checked her bow and arrow bag three times, even though she had fully prepared it the night before, an old habit she knew she hadn't completely broken yet. Her mother took her to the club's meeting point by motorbike, giving her a few words of encouragement before she got off the bus to join the other members waiting for the school bus.

"Just play your best and you'll be fine," her mother said, holding her hand for a moment before she left. "Mom and Dad are proud of you no matter the result."

That sentence, simple but sincere, made Thanh Tam feel much warmer than she had ever worried about. She smiled, hugged her mother tightly before walking away, carrying that word of encouragement as a spiritual luggage for the important competition day.

At the stadium, the competition atmosphere was much more exciting than Thanh Tam imagined - dozens of shooting lanes were set up, flags of the participating schools were flying, loudspeaker announcements rang out continuously, and the small stands for parents and teachers to cheer were starting to get crowded. She clearly felt the tension rising in her heart as she looked at that scene, completely different from the familiar quietness of the training ground.

"Excited?" Nam Khanh asked, standing next to her while the team waited for their turn to check their equipment before entering the competition area.

"A little," Thanh Tam admitted, trying to keep her voice calm even though her hand was tightening the strap of her bow bag more than necessary.

"It's normal," Nam Khanh said, gently placing his hand on her shoulder for a moment, a familiar reassuring gesture. "Remember what you've been practicing for the past few weeks. You don't have to be perfect, you just need to shoot with the correct procedure that you've practiced hundreds of times."

"I'll try," Thanh Tam replied, taking a deep breath to regain composure.

Team competition takes place in the morning, with each team of three taking turns shooting twenty-four arrows in total, divided into many small series according to regulations. When it was Thanh Tam's team's turn to step onto the firing line, she felt the eyes of dozens of people around her focus on her, a completely different pressure than the simulated practice sessions at school.

Binh shot first, opening with a steady performance as usual, achieving a pretty good total score despite not having a perfect shot. When it was Nam Khanh's turn, he showed composure and solid technique as his role as captain, scoring the highest score among the three.

When it was Thanh Tam's turn, she stepped into position and felt her heart beating faster than ever. She looked around the stands for a moment, unable to find Ms. Van in the crowd - Thanh Van still hadn't returned in time for this qualifying round, only promising to come back to watch the final round - and part of her breathed a sigh of relief because of that, even though she also knew that feeling of relief meant that the real pressure was still ahead.

She raised her bow, closed her eyes for a second, recalling all the lessons she had accumulated over the past few months — not looking at the center of the target in her head, but focusing on her own process. Inhale, raise the bow, exhale half a breath, pull the string back to the anchor point, hold steady, and let your body decide when to release the arrow.

The first arrow flew away, landing in ring nine. She didn't let herself stop to analyze, but continued immediately with the second arrow following the same practice procedure - this time sticking it into the tenth ring, close to the center. The third arrow entered ring nine.

At the end of the first set of shots, Thanh Tam felt a sense of relief spread through her heart — not because she shot perfectly, but because she was able to actually apply what she had learned over the past few months even in a stressful competition situation.

"Very good," Nam Khanh said softly as she stepped out of the shooting line to make room for the other team, his eyes filled with pride. "You see, all the practice I did work."

The competition continued through several rounds throughout the morning, and although there were moments when Thanh Tam did not shoot as expected — once missing round seven because of a sudden gust of wind — she found herself recovering much faster than before, not letting a bad shot carry over into the next shots.

At noon, when the qualifying round of the team event ended, the organizers announced the provisional results on a large electronic board placed in the middle of the field. Ly Thuong Kiet school's team ranked third out of twelve participating teams, qualifying for the regional finals that will take place a month later.

"We did it!" Binh shouted, hugging both Thanh Tam and Nam Khanh in joy, causing all three to almost fall over.

Thanh Tam laughed, a comfortable and genuine laugh that she rarely had in moments related to achievements. She looked at the electronic board, saw the name of her school ranked third, and felt a different pride than she had ever imagined — not pride for having proven anything to her sister, but pure pride for having worked hard with her teammates and achieved worthy results.

In the afternoon, the individual competition continued, and Thanh Tam also achieved positive results, ranked fifth in the individual table, qualifying to attend the individual finals with her teammates. When everything was over, the whole club gathered to listen to Mr. Kien's summary, his face radiant in a rare way.

"I'm so proud of all of you today," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "Especially the new kids, this is their first time competing officially, and they did very well. With one month left until the finals, we will continue to practice hard, but today, just let yourself enjoy this achievement."

On the way home, Thanh Tam texted the good news to both her mother and Yen Thao, receiving countless excited congratulations. She also texted Ms. Van a short line: "My team is in the finals, remember to come home and watch." Thanh Van responded immediately with a series of celebratory emojis, promising to make sure to arrange a visit home just in time for the final round.

Reading that message, Thanh Tam felt a familiar mix of joy and worry, but this time, joy made up the majority. She thought about the month ahead, about the upcoming finals, and about the opportunity to compete in front of her sister with a version of herself that she was truly proud of, not for being perfect, but for persevering and improving day by day.

That night, the whole family held a small celebration dinner. Dad cooked Thanh Tam's favorite snakehead fish soup, and Mom bought a small cake with the words "Congratulations Thanh Tam on reaching the finals" written in blue icing. Sitting at the dining table, watching her parents smile brightly and tell each other what Thanh Tam had told them on the phone that afternoon, she felt a complete warmth that she rarely had.

"I heard you say that you were able to shoot nine and ten rounds in a row and I was so happy," he said, putting more food into her bowl. "Daddy's daughter is really good."

"I still have to try a lot," Thanh Tam replied, but this time that sentence did not carry the familiar self-deprecation, but was simply a realistic, not heavy statement.

"It's good to try, but let's celebrate today first," Mom smiled, cutting the cake to share with everyone. "We don't need you to be perfect, as long as you're happy and healthy, we'll be happy."

Her mother's words, although simple, made Thanh Tam pause for a moment, remembering previous evenings when she always felt burdened by seemingly harmless questions about her achievements. She realized that perhaps her parents never really placed emphasis on her being perfect, but that she was the one who placed that standard on her own shoulders, and then unintentionally attached it to every normal word of the family.

After the meal, she went up to her room and made a video call to Yen Thao to tell more details about the competition day. The two of them chatted for nearly an hour, reviewing every moment of the day with full excitement. Before hanging up the phone, Yen Thao did not forget to mention the unfinished love story between Thanh Tam and Nam Khanh.

"So there's still a month until the finals," Yen Thao said, squinting her eyes meaningfully. "How long are you going to let 'what Khanh hasn't said yet' hang in the air?"

"I don't know anymore," Thanh Tam smiled, her cheeks were slightly pink even though she was just talking through the screen. "Maybe wait until after the finals, when things are less stressful."

"Okay, I respect your decision," Yen Thao said, pretending to sigh dramatically. "But remember not to wait too long, otherwise you two will keep going in circles and won't be able to finish it."

Thanh Tam laughed at her friend's teasing and hung up the phone in a feeling of relief and warmth. She lay down on her bed, looking up at the ceiling, filled with gratitude for a day that had gone more smoothly than she had dared to expect, and for the promising yet challenging month ahead that awaited her at the regional finals.