Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Arrival at Willow Creek Camp
The van rumbled over the uneven gravel road, bouncing slightly as it cut through dense forest, weaving past tall pine trees and under a sky bluer than anything they’d seen in the city. The only sound was the hum of the engine, the occasional thud of a backpack shifting, and Motoya’s voice.
“I swear I saw a deer back there. Like a real, actual one—with antlers and everything,” Motoya said, leaning over the front seat, practically vibrating with excitement. “This is so cool. It smells like trees. Is that pine? Or cedar?”
“Sit down,” Kiyoomi muttered, voice flat. “And stop yelling. You’re giving me a headache.”
“Everything gives you a headache,” Rintarou said from the backseat, stretching his legs out and yawning loudly. His hood was pulled halfway over his face, one earbud still in. “I’m just impressed you’re not wearing gloves in this heat.”
Kiyoomi ignored him.
Behind Rintarou, Akira sat hunched in the farthest seat, hood up, knees pulled to her chest, a black notebook open on her lap. She hadn’t said a word since they’d left home hours ago. Her dark hair curtained most of her face, her earbuds in. Not that she was listening to music—just using them as armor.
She hated the brightness, hated the bugs on the windows, hated the way the trees seemed to loom. Everything about the camp already felt loud.
The van slowed as they pulled past a wooden gate, the sign above it swaying gently in the summer breeze. Willow Creek Camp – Est. 1986. There were painted handprints along the border and a carved wooden owl perched on top.
Motoya pressed his face to the window. “We’re here. Guys, we’re actually here! Look at the cabins! Look at the lake! Holy—do they have archery? That’s gonna be so sick—”
“If you say one more word, I will throw you into the lake,” Kiyoomi said sharply, unclipping his seatbelt.
“Love you too, Omi,” Motoya grinned.
The van came to a jerky stop in a gravel lot surrounded by trees and scattered campers hauling duffels or hugging their parents. Counselors wearing matching forest-green shirts were handing out clipboards, radios buzzing faintly. A gentle acoustic guitar was playing somewhere in the distance.
The four of them exited in varying states of energy: Kiyoomi stepped down first, tall and composed, scanning the area with a cautious eye. Rintarou followed, dragging his black duffel behind him, yawning again as though sleep was the only thing on his mind. Motoya practically dove out, arms stretched wide like he was arriving at Disneyland. Akira came last, her movement quiet and deliberate, headphones still in.
“Welcome!” chirped a counselor—tall, with short dark hair and a clipboard in hand. “Sakusa, Komori, Suna, and Kunimi, right?”
Kiyoomi gave a small nod.
“We’ve got you all signed in,” the counselor continued cheerfully. “Cabin assignments are posted on the board near the rec hall, and we’ll do a quick orientation in about an hour. You’ll have time to unpack and meet your cabinmates before the icebreaker games.”
“Great,” Rintarou mumbled. “Icebreakers. Can’t wait.”
“Icebreakers are fun!” Motoya said, already walking backwards toward the board. “I’m gonna win them. Whatever they are.”
Kiyoomi sighed. “You can’t win icebreakers.”
“Bet.”
Akira trailed behind them, taking in the camp in quick, sharp glances. There was a fire pit in the distance, rows of cabins in neat lines, a trail leading down to the lake, and a large main hall with flags strung across the porch. Kids were everywhere—laughing, shouting, running—and it all felt too much, too soon.
“Hey,” Rintarou said casually as he matched pace with her. “You doing okay?”
She shrugged. That was enough.
They reached the board together. Motoya was already reading it aloud.
“Okay—Rintarou, you’re in Cabin Maple. Kiyoomi, you’re Cedar. I’m in Pine. Akira…” He paused, scanning. “Birch. Ooh. Sounds elegant.”
Rintarou gave a low whistle. “We’re all split up?”
“Camp’s rules,” the counselor said from behind them. “We try not to put siblings together, just so you all get the full social experience.”
“Yay,” Kiyoomi muttered. “Social.”
“I want a refund,” Rintarou deadpanned.
“I wanna know who’s in my cabin,” Motoya grinned, already jogging off toward the labeled path. “If they’re fun, I’m setting up karaoke night. If they’re boring, I’ll make them fun!”
“I’m exhausted already,” Rintarou sighed.
Akira said nothing, eyes flicking to her name under “Birch Cabin,” and the ones listed beside it: Yachi Hitoka. Shimizu Kiyoko. She didn’t recognize them—but at least they sounded quiet.
The cabins were tucked deeper into the trees, separated by wooden signs and gravel paths. Each was identical from the outside—log walls, painted green doors, and a front porch with a bench. Akira found hers easily. Inside, the air was warm and smelled faintly of lavender and bug spray.
Yachi was already unpacking on the bottom bunk, nervously folding shirts with military precision. She looked up and gave a small smile when Akira walked in.
“Hi! I’m Hitoka. Um—Yachi. I guess we’re bunkmates.”
Akira gave a slow nod, then set her bag on the top bunk and turned away.
“Cool, cool,” Yachi said quietly, voice trailing off.
On the other side of the room, Kiyoko sat cross-legged on her bed, reading a thick paperback. She didn’t even glance up.
Good. Akira liked her already.
Across the camp, Rintarou was greeting his cabin with his usual deadpan charm.
“So, uh, I snore,” he announced, flopping dramatically onto his mattress. “Not loud. Just like…a soft dying animal.”
“I don’t care,” Osamu Miya muttered from the bed beside him, clearly half-asleep. “As long as you don’t snore in my direction.”
“You got it, roommate.”
Kiyoomi’s cabin was empty when he entered. He appreciated the silence, the dust-free beds, and the window that opened wide. He unpacked slowly, neatly. He lined up his socks, hung up his towel, and disinfected the doorknob before sitting down.
He heard footsteps approaching—then the door swung open with a bang.
“YO,” shouted Bokuto Koutarou, dropping two duffels in the doorway. “This one’s mine, right?”
Kiyoomi blinked slowly. “…No.”
“Oh, wait—Cedar? Cedar Cabin?”
“…Yes.”
“Then it is mine! Awesome!” Bokuto grinned. “Name’s Bokuto. I do a mean handstand and make killer s’mores. What’s your name?”
Kiyoomi stared at him. “Kiyoomi.”
“Cool, cool. We’re gonna have the best cabin ever. Let’s be friends!”
Kiyoomi stood up and walked out.
Later, as the sun dipped below the trees, the entire camp gathered around the fire pit. Orientation began with introductions, rules, and a slideshow of last summer’s highlights. Motoya was already sitting on someone’s shoulders by the third minute.
“Sit down!” the counselor laughed. “You’ll get your moment in the talent show!”
Akira sat between Yachi and Kiyoko, her notebook in her lap. Rintarou lounged near the back with Osamu, who’d already tossed a marshmallow at a counselor. Kiyoomi sat with his arms crossed, eyes occasionally flicking toward Bokuto—who wouldn’t. stop. bouncing.
“Camp is what you make of it,” the director said, smiling warmly. “Make friends. Try something new. And remember—this place only lasts a summer. Make it count.”
Akira looked up at the stars. Something about that sentence lingered.
Make it count.
She didn’t know how. But something inside her whispered that maybe…just maybe…this summer could be different.
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