Chapter Text
“Next time you decide to behave like an imbecile, remember where you ended up.” Touichirou says to the rear view mirror, his tone of voice cool even as his angry hands throttle the steering wheel.
Shou feels his face grow warm and sweat itches the nape of his neck. He swallows his pride with white knuckles punched into the luxury town cars’ rear bench seat.
“Sure thing, Pops.” His voice quivers.
“Fukuda will come pick you up. Tell your counselors to direct any emergency calls to him.”
“Sure thing,” Shou repeats.
Shou can sense Touichirou’s glassy gaze on him, and a scowl breaks his previously schooled features. He grabs the strap of his duffel bag and slides out of the car, his flimsy nylon shorts not sparing him the pain of his bare skin sticking to the leather seat.
The air is muggy and thick, embracing him like rippling, pollen-tinted jello. Shou slams the rear passenger door, glad to be free of Touichirou’s harsh criticisms, but the grating noise of the automatic window rolling down makes Shou bristle.
“I’m sure you’ll understand my perspective when you return.” Touichirou says, almost like he’s talking to Shou, but not quite.
Shou bites his tongue. The town car smoothly pulls away from the curb, washing him with bitter smelling exhaust.
The sun is a blazing pinhole in the sky, and Shou can already feel the radiation caressing his vulnerable complexion. He moves off the hot sidewalk and under a nearby shade tree, watching happy children be unloaded from a cue of vehicles.
Check-in closes in an hour, but Shou can’t bring himself to rush into the line of sweating kids; stinking sunscreen and starchy scouting uniforms. Touichirou’s first mistake was not ensuring Shou made it to check-in. He could walk off camp property and spend the next two weeks hitchhiking, or roaming the forests. However, it’s not worth the effort if Touichirou doesn’t care.
He rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. He could cry. Not because the experience is as humiliating as Touichirou insisted it would be, and not because Shou is alone at a strange place, but because of something else. Something unsavory folded into the viscous paste of his brain that tastes so familiar.
A pleasant noise grabs Shou’s attention. A humble baby blue sedan, windows rolled down with parental arms reaching out, cooing and waving lovingly at two boys awkwardly gathering their packs and bags. Embarrassed, they shrink away from the attention, but with smiles, one closed and the other open. They do not see him as they walk to check-in but Shou can’t look away.
Unconsciously, Shou runs his tongue over his teeth. What a beautiful smile, too.
—
In a stroke of good fortune, Shou immediately finds a girl he knows. Her name is Asagiri Minori and she is a bully. Her father is a businessman who mingles with Touichirou frequently enough to maybe be considered cohorts, but he’s not certain. He wonders if she’s attending this particular camp as a punishment too, but he doesn't ask. Though her presence brings him cold comfort, he orbits nearby her in a game of musical chairs as the swarm of children coalesce into defined cliques.
This camp is honestly no different than any of the others Shou’s attended, save for the lack of supervision. He’s not entirely sure what he’s supposed to be doing after check-in, or what the prerogative for the week will be. There are scouting-funded activities, but there's no obligation to participate.
He’s not explored the grounds, but the layout appears basic; minimal. Canteen and infirmary on the hill where the main gate is located, spiraling paths converging at a large outdoor communal area. Bunks and latrine tightly packed on the westward side. Well groomed sports fields and hiking trails at his disposal.
Leave it to Touichirou to bore him to death. Undoubtedly, Minori will keep things interesting.
It’s easy to be popular at someone else's expense. It comes naturally to Shou. Touichirou claims that Shou doesn't pay attention, but he does. He knows how the belittling game works. The little vestiges of bastardism he’s inherited from Touichirou are gleefully hidden until called upon. He trails behind Asagiri Minori’s gaggle of beautiful, mean friends, and wonders if this will be his doomed camp experience.
There is a commotion as they enter the canteen for dinner, which is impressive considering the volume of ambient noise in the building.
Minori is laughing, high-pitched and manic. Shou pushes alongside Minori, who’s still cackling and pointing at a boy crumpled on the floor, his wax carton of milk spilled onto his clothes. Shou recognizes him. He was that one boy with the other, but where is —Shou looks up and locks eyes with The Other.
The Other has a glare so vehemently hateful, it could rival Shou’s own father. He feels the fine hairs raise on his arms, as if physically touched by the sheer disdain radiating from this kid.
“Apologize.” The Other orders, stepping in front of The One, like a shield.
Minori doesn't hear him, consumed in a fit of whispers and giggles.
Mesmerized, Shou watches The Other suck in a breath, “I said —”
“Ritsu, don’t worry about it,” The One says quickly, back on his feet and looking bashful, “she’s gone. Let’s just leave.”
“Nii-san, I —” Ritsu says, but Shou ceases listening.
Ritsu, huh. Shou repeats it in his mind, his tongue molds to the pronunciation and it feels akin to holding a marble in his mouth. Ritsu and his brother are gonna have a rough two weeks if he’s on Minori’s radar, but Shou admires his attitude.
“What are you looking at?” Ritsu says. Shou jolts into reality. Minori has wandered off with her entourage, and he’s left to endure Ritsu’s hot gaze. He panics.
“Nothing special.” Shou says. He regrets it.
“Piss off.” Ritsu spits, grasping his brother’s arm and walking off, splitting a line of attendees waiting for onigiri. They disappear into the crush of kids and Shou wishes he could too.
—
Shou loses Minori outside the canteen, so instead he finds his duffle bag and heads towards the bunks.
The campgrounds blush with a vibrant gold cast as the sun falls into the mountains and oblivion. Shou fishes a paper from his pocket he received earlier at check-in and unfolds it, reading the bunking reservations detailed. The bunks are simple buildings, strikingly western without relief or decor.
He shoulders the screen door open to his designated grouping, not shocked to find it dimly lit and dank inside. There are eight beds, stacked double and deserted. Shou picks the top bunk and slings his duffle bag onto it, crinkling the waterproof mattress. A flurry of dust motes pass into a slice of sunset coming in from the window.
Shou’s been a participant in many scouting organizations, especially ones that ship kids off for weeks at a time. This place isn’t half-bad, he’s definitely seen worse. This place seems understaffed for the amount of kids present for whatever reason, and that can only work in his favor. He hopes Touichirou thinks he’s learning a lesson or something.
He climbs onto the top bunk, cheap polyester sheets scratching at his skin and unpacks his composition notebook.
—
Shou jerks awake. It’s dark. After several soft seconds he remembers where he is, lifting his head off his notebook and a page crinkles, adhered to his face with saliva. He squints in the darkness, making out the faint forms of sleeping campers tucked into their beds.
Abruptly, a shriek cuts the silence like a knife. He’s paralyzed. What was that? He holds his breath.
It happens again —a falsetto, prolonged wail, ending low and strained like a grumbling gargle.
What the fuck? Is someone hurt? Shou lifts himself off the bed, mattress crumpling loudly as he slips off of it and drops onto the floor. He stuffs his feet into his sneakers. The sole window of the bunk is shuttered with blinds, so Shou slowly opens the flimsy screen door, wincing as the spring groans in protest. He figures if the ungodly scream didn’t wake up everyone, he probably wouldn’t.
The air outside is brisk enough to perpetuate the gooseflesh on his limbs. The bunks are identical and arranged in a line, with a main thoroughfare leading east, to the canteen, and the west, terminating into forest. No one seems to be awake, much less wandering outside.
Paranoid, Shou looks towards the latrine and canteen. No lights, or sounds —nothing. Evenly spaced lamps illuminate the thoroughfare in a jaundiced glow, highlighting the absence of anyone.
He bites his lip. There’s no way he imagined that wailing. Shou has a vivid imagination, but he can’t credit himself with that one. He quietly steps onto the pea gravel thoroughfare and a peculiar wind blows overhead, rousing the lofty trees with a roar, dropping a cacophony of leaves and debris onto the shingled roofs.
With pricked ears, he listens intently. The wind dies down, as if to appease him and the camp descends into an unsettling silence.
This time, the scream is so loud and unexpected, Shou flinches. He whips to face west —the forest —where it most definitely originated from.
Pea gravel crunches under his sneakers as he sprints towards the forest, certain his judgment has skewed into stupidity, but if his instincts are right, someone needs his help. He can help.
“You!” Says a harsh whisper.
Shou’s heart leaps into his throat, sliding to a stop on the crunchy gravel and he whips around. It’s that kid, Ritsu, and his brother, perfectly calm, and perfectly yellow under the eerie incandescence of a street lamp behind him.
Shou’s breathing too hard to speak, but he cautiously walks toward them.
“What are you doing?” Ritsu asks in a low, suspicious tone.
Shou self-consciously combs his hair with his fingers, ignoring how his hands are shaking. He unsticks his tongue from his hard palate with an audible noise.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t hear that,” Shou says. He shifts his weight from side to side nervously, unable to be stationary. His limbic system is drenched in adrenaline.
“Of course we did, but why are you running at it?” Ritsu hisses.
“Well, I —” Shou stutters as if it’s obvious, “why the fuck not? Was it you?”
“No,” Ritsu’s brother answers.
“Then what the hell was that?” Shou gasps, starting to become annoyed.
The brothers exchange a creepy look, and it gets under Shou’s skin instantly. “Well?”
“It’s just a noise. I think you should go back to your bunk,” Ritsu’s brother advises.
“You’re crazy,” Shou growls, stepping backwards.
“Look,” Ritsu says in a mature, appealing way, “it happens every year we attend this camp. It’s probably a fox.”
Shou thinks hard about it, working some saliva up in his mouth. “If you say so.”
“Why are you being so difficult?” Ritsu snaps, and it’s a phrase Shou’s heard his entire life.
“Why do you care?” Shou says loudly. A light flicks on in a nearby bunk and they all notice.
Ritsu takes a breath like he might speak, but he does not.
“Fuck off,” Shou seethes, turning briskly and walking away. He refuses to look back. Who do they think they are?
In his bunk, in his bed, Shou doesn’t sleep very much.
—
His skin feels too tight. Shou inspects his arms, disheartened by how pink they’ve become. He wades downstream towards an area of the river shaded with massive trees, bowing over the water respectfully and rocks that break the gentle, rippling surface.
The introduction of water makes any scenario more fun. Shou’s not sure if it’s scientific fact, but he feels very sure of his assumption.
“Hey, Shou-chan!” Minori coos, “where are you going?”
“Nowhere,” Shou replies. It’s kinda funny how fickle Minori is. He’d been no more than ten feet from her all day, and completely ignored, but now she cares where he goes.
He perches on a dry rock, partially obscured by branches dipping the water, little bits of algae and debris clinging to the submerged leaves, dragging in the current. He glances up at Minori.
“Oh, this is cute.” She says, ducking under the leafy branches. She’s wearing a designer two-piece —scandalous in comparison to the other kids with school-issued swimwear. She’s a bit older than Shou, and a bit more developed, but regardless, he doesn’t understand the appeal of fancy clothes. He’s worn the same shorts for twenty-four consecutive hours.
There’s a handful of kids in the river, splashing in shallow water. His gaze fixes upstream, where Ritsu carefully picks his way over slick rocks with brother in tow, bare torso nearly as pale as Shou. Groggily, he wonders if Ritsu tans well. He yawns.
“Hello?” Minori whines, “are you sleepy or what?”
Shou clears his throat, dropping his feet into the water.. “Yeah, I kept hearing a weird noise last night.”
“Oh, that’s spooky!” Minori giggles, “Did you hear about the girl who died?”
The water is suddenly too cold on his legs. “No? What are you talking about?”
“Yuki heard it from one of the counselors,” Minori pauses to preen and adjust her swimsuit. “A couple of years ago, a girl disappeared. They never found her!”
“That’s not super spooky.” Shou critiques. “How do they know she’s dead?”
“Duh, because the camp is haunted,” Minori answers nonchalantly.
What’s camping without a good anticlimactic story? Shou thinks to himself, rubbing his chin. He doesn’t buy that one. “Good to know.”
“Minori-chan!” A faceless girl calls. The gaggle of beautiful, mean girls drifts closer to Shou’s hiding spot, hungry for Minori’s attention.
“See ya,” Shou says quickly, abandoning his perch and wading into deeper water.
“Shou —”
He dives into the cloudy river, silt from upstream tickling his sensitive skin. The temperature difference is jarring, but it’s not extremely deep and Shou considers himself a strong swimmer. It’s a far cry from the crystal blue chlorinated pools Touichirou is so fond of.
Shou breaks the surface and sputters, wiping the water out of his eyes. He makes it to the shallows, vigilantly toeing around the awful jagged rocks scattered over the riverbed.
If he gets to the latrine before everybody else, maybe he can get a quick rinse off and hang his shorts on a line, or something. It’d be nice to spend the entire evening carelessly splashing in the water, but Shou would like to avoid sun poisoning.
He slows to hike his nylon shorts higher on his hips, fiddling with the knot he placed in the drawstrings to prevent sagging. He gets a funny feeling, and looks up.
Ritsu’s standing in the calf-deep water a few yards away, staring at Shou.
Shou stares back, anticipating Ritsu to say something. The trilling cicadas show no mercy, their suffocating chorus only overpowered by the intense humidity.
The funny feeling intensifies. Water tickles the shell of Shou’s ear. It’s like he’s being studied; eviscerated by sharp eyes. Jeez, this guy must hate his guts.
“Ritsu! I found a crayfish!” Ritsu’s brother says, appearing with a net mindfully suspended in the slow moving water.
Ritsu offers the pail Shou didn’t notice he was carrying. Dumbfounded, Shou chooses not to linger any longer.
—
A large bonfire roars in a sandy clearing at the heart of the campground. It seems all the attendees have gathered, intermingling and roasting treats on wire rods. The kids are roughly around his age, and even the counselors supervising the event couldn’t be out of upper secondary school.
Some kids wear their Scout Association attire and some wear casual clothes, but it all looks the same in the stark firelight. Shou finds a seat on a log near the edge of the clearing, just close enough to bake in the wisps of heat rolling from the bonfire. It’s great n’ all — but he’s seen better. He’s set more impressive fires himself.
He watches the embers rise past the flames licking into the black sky, dancing on the heat ascending into the atmosphere. Somewhere, above the din of the campers, a kid shrieks in delight, and laughter roars with the fire. Children become a silhouetted blur against the inferno, running and playing puerile games. A creeping sensation trickles into his consciousness, and Shou begins to feel very small and alone.
In his periphery, Shou spots Ritsu, with his brother, shielding his face from the bonfire as he outstretches his arm to roast a marshmallow. Ritsu’s brother stands closer to the flames, unbothered as the marshmallow blackens and blisters.
Ritsu is taller than him, with lean, long arms and legs. Proportionally balanced. His hair flutters from the heat, and the fire heaves brighter like it loves their fascination. He can’t help but look down at his own legs, nearly glowing in the darkness. He’s almost thirteen, but he’s still gawky. His legs are too long, feet and hands too small. His hair is weird and difficult to manage. It makes him feel self-conscious, and then angry.
Ritsu laughs, pulling off the burnt shell of his gooey marshmallow. It’s clear he doesn't like the taste. His brother is smiling. They seem happy, comfortable. Ritsu wipes marshmallow from his chin. They seem so normal. Average. He remembers their parents waving excitedly, together in the car. Why does it bother him?
“What’s wrong with you, Shou-chan?” Minori suddenly asks, her voice high and sweetly deceptive.
Shou jumps, but stretches his arms casually to disguise it, “Still pretty tired,” The cool night air is a draft on his lower back, making him shiver.
“Uhg, you sound like Otousan,” Minori giggles, taking a seat on the log beside him, “what’re you doing?”
“Nothing,” Shou says immediately.
Minori hums, tapping a thin finger on her pouty lip. “You’re acting weird. Are you getting sick?”
“I dunno,” Shou says quickly, impatient to change the subject, “what’re you doing?”
“I’m so bored!” She exclaims, holding her own face dramatically, “I could just… Hey, can you still do handstands?”
A performance? Absolutely. “Yeah, sure!” Shou says, standing, and brushing off his shorts.
Shou rolls his shoulders and kicks his right leg out behind him, and heaves forward, effortlessly inverting into a handstand. The sandy soil makes balancing slightly awkward, as well as his T-shirt falling over his face, but he manages the handstand for several seconds, and dismounts smoothly.
Minori is giggling, and the kids nearby are gawking. A pleasant rush of warmth spreads over Shou.
“You wanna see what else I’ve been practicing?” He asks without care for an answer, shuffling backwards before launching into a front handspring.
The shock of dense sand hurts his feet when he sticks the landing but Minori is delighted. There are murmurs around him, and Shou's sense of accomplishment soars. He surveys the throng of fascinated kids and his stomach flips when he sees Ritsu watching him.
“Do one backwards!” Minori cheers in that petulant way only a spoiled child would.
“Uh,” Shou breathes, judging the space available to him.
He’s not had any practice doing back handsprings, but the physics are roughly the same. Gravity is a funny thing. Ritsu’s still watching. Shou puffs his chest out and assumes a stance that should —in theory —work.
It doesn't. The angle is bad, and Shou’s hands slide in the sand. The impact of falling flat onto his back knocks the wind out of him, and Shou hiccups in pain.
Minori’s laughter is maniacal, cruel, but his embarrassment is far more excruciating to endure. Shou scrambles to his feet, attempting to salvage his pride.
“Try again! I dare you!” Minori demands, clapping her hands together. More kids seem to take interest, gathering around to witness Shou’s performance.
He’s disoriented but there's no way he’s refusing a challenge. Shou walks a small circle on wobbly legs, calculating with rattled brains how to execute the move properly. More momentum? Get his hands underneath him and lock his elbows.
“Don’t —” Shou hears behind him. He’s expecting a camp counselor to rein him in, but it’s Ritsu’s brother instead. He looks like he might pass out, nervous hands wringing and whatnot.
“Huh?” Shou gasps, outraged. Ritsu’s brother shrinks back.
Ritsu steps alongside his brother. “You almost landed on your head, knock it off.”
Shou feels his face flush with annoyance. “I can do it.”
“Seemed like you couldn't the first time.” Ritsu says, and it’s just like how Touichirou says it, and Shou’s heart really starts pounding.
“Shut up —what’s it to you?” Shou gestures haughtily with arms outstretched. Everyone is watching.
“Don’t tell me to shut up,” Ritsu says like Shou really hurt his feelings.
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Shou nearly yells, striding up to Ritsu, too incensed to appreciate the way the kid stands his ground. He feels the sweat beading on his neck, shoulders stippled with sand, raw and irritated.
“Ritsu, that’s enough,” Ritsu’s brother pleads somewhere behind him, and Ritsu baulks, turning away from Shou.
Shou’s blood curdles. He doesn’t want to de-escalate. The mere idea of Ritsu brushing him off sends Shou into a desperate rage.
He moves impulsively; seizing the collar of Ritsu’s shirt and yanking him off balance while using his foot to hook Ritsu’s leg, sending the kid face-first into the dirt. Shou’s on him in an instant, and immediately catches an elbow to the face as Ritsu rolls onto his back.
Shou reflexively lashes out, his knuckles connecting with thin skin and wicked pain rockets up his arm. Goddamn that hurt, but Shou’s not giving up.
He feels Ritsu try to vault his spine, attempting to squirm out from underneath him, but Shou blindly snags a handful of Ritsu’s hair in a controlled attempt to subdue him while Shou recovers —suddenly there’s a cold hand on the nape of Shou’s neck.
“Get off of him,” Ritsu’s brother whispers so quietly Shou can barely hear it beyond the blood pounding in his ears. Shou freezes, reimagining his odds fighting two-to-one. He will manage, he’ll show them what he’s capable of.
He feels Ritsu go deathly still beneath him —in suspense or horror unseen with the reflexive tears blurring Shou’s eyes. His left hand wrenches in Ritsu’s hair, and Shou winds back his right arm, despite the static tingling pain.
“Alright, alright guys,” what is surely a counselor interrupts the tiff. Ritsu’s brother releases Shou’s neck and Shou begrudgingly releases Ritsu.
“What happened?” The counselor asks, ushering Ritsu’s brother to the side.
Shou clambers to his feet, sand flaking from his knees and forearms. Ritsu rises, eyes fixed to Shou’s with intensity and hatred. He notices an alarming amount of blood on Ritsu’s once-pristine T-shirt and discovers it’s his own. He wipes at his face.
The kids that gathered disperse, save a few morbid onlookers. Shou’s face really starts throbbing, and he can taste the salty blood drying on his lips. Did he lose? It looks like he lost. If only he made Ritsu bleed —then —
“You two, come with me.” The counselor says thinly, gesturing at both Shou and Ritsu, “We’re going to the infirmary.”
—
The counselor introduces himself as Arataka Reigen. He’s older than the other counselors, but has a youthful way of speaking. Shou can sense he’s a kind man, if not too kind.
Though the canteen and infirmary share the same building, the latter is still open and accessible. Fat moths mindlessly batter a warm hued light above the door. Shou shuffles behind Reigen and Ritsu into the dimly lit infirmary, feeling numb.
“Take a seat, both of you.” Reigen instructs, shouldering an adjacent door open.
The seating is limited. Ritsu finds the chair closest to him, while Shou chooses one as far as physically possible from Ritsu. Petty, he knows.
It’s quiet. Shou fixes his gaze to the grody carpet, bouncing one leg to distract himself from the righteous headache. Ritsu makes no noise, or movement in his periphery. Hazarding a glance, Shou sees Ritsu is absently picking at the fabric of his shorts, a fresh red mark on his brow already swelling above his eye.
Shou did that. He flexes his right hand and his knuckles sting. He did that. Shou sits with the feeling of accomplishment until it sours. Why did he do that?
There’s clattering in the next room, and Reigen emerges with a first-aid kit.
“Alright guys,” Reigen says, “what hurts?”
“My face,” Shou says.
“Head.” Ritsu says.
“Hmm, There’s not a lot I can do for you Ritsu-kun. Would you like some aspirin?”
Ritsu nods, and Reigen dispenses two pills into Ritsu’s palm.
“What about you… uh…” Reigen motions to Shou.
“Suzuki Shou.”
“Right. Suzuki-kun. I’m going to take a look at your nose, alright?” Reigen warns, snapping on latex gloves and crouching in front of Shou’s chair.
Shou hums. Reigen delicately manipulates Shou’s face. Shou sucks in a breath as Reigen touches the tender bridge of his nose.
“I’m no Doctor, but,” Reigen says, angling Shou’s head in a way that has him looking up at the dull, dusty drop-ceiling, “The bleeding has stopped and it doesn’t look broken.”
“Great,” Shou offers flatly. Reigen drops two aspirin into Shou’s hand.
“Do I need to reiterate the policy about fighting on camp grounds?” Reigen says without prelude.
“I don’t remember you iterating it to begin with,” Ritsu says, unknowingly speaking for Shou also.
“Well it’s presently posted in the rules of recreation in the canteen,” Reigen amends, “I’d like you two to be friends. You have a lot in common.”
Shou meets Ritsu’s eyes skeptically at the absurdity of that —what is surely a company line.
“Good? Yeah? Alright. Clean up and get to your bunks. If I catch you horseplaying again, it’s curtains for you two.” Reigen chides, packing up the first-aid kit and returning it to wherever.
Shou pops the aspirin in his mouth and swallows. Ritsu’s face scrunches up, and he utilizes a drinking fountain to take his aspirin. Very avant garde, Shou thinks.
Ritsu hovers by the door like he wants to say something. He does not. Something hopeful deflates in Shou.
A shiny black corded phone hangs temptingly on the wall of the infirmary. Shou could call Fukuda. It’s only been a few days, but he could call Fukuda and tell him what happened —that he fucked up again —like he always does. He’d have to face his father, but he could go home.
He could go home.
“You coming or what?” Ritsu asks.