Kokichi's mother raved over the pamphlet as soon as it unfortunately and mistakenly ended up in their mailbox.

"There's a lake—and other kids you could talk to!" She insisted, trying to persuade her son into blindly agreeing with the idea.

But he stood his ground and continued to assertively reject her advice, claiming he made friends just fine at school.

Which was another one of Kokichi's more recent and frequent lies, considering how he never brought anyone home and rarely abandoned his computer.

So when summer ultimately rolled around, and the first two weeks of his vacation were spent inside, Kokichi's mom took action.

She responded to the emails dexterously.

Took the time to educate herself on the supposedly helpful summer camp that's been spreading around through moms lile wildfire.

That's why he's been in the car for six hours straight, being driven by his mom to a remote place in the woods.

No technology from home and no obvious contraband.

Kokichi jerks suddenly as the car comes to a halt outside a towering selection of trees, wavering slightly in the chill summer night breeze.

His mom extracts the trunk of necessities and clothing from the backseat, and pushes it over to her son.

"It'll be good for you to spend some time outside," she says, offering him her usual kind smile.

Kokichi's shoulders spike up defensively, and he reciprocates his mother's patience with hostility.

"I don't need this," Kokichi huffs irritably, his fingers curling around handle of the trunk. It's heavy with things, miscellaneous trinkets and clothing suitable for the terrain and weather.

"I don't know why you care so much, anyway!" He adds, his tone oozing venom and anger.

His mom pulls the key out of the ignition and sighs exasperatedly, her former patience running out quickly.

"I care because I love you," she tells him, "You've hardly ever spent time outside since your dad left." Those words shatter Kokichi's bluff of angry, rebellious teen.

His expression falls.

"Don't..." Kokichi trails off before suddenly unbuckling and storming out of the car. His shorter mother follows in tow shortly after.

Once they quickly debrief with the camp director, Kokichi is taken to his cabin.

"You'll be staying in cabin two," the lady says, pushing her wide rimmed glaases up the slope of her nose.

"Say your goodbyes, Ms. Ouma; your son is in good hands." She smiles reassuringly before opening the cabin door. The wooden floorboards creak.

Kokichi's mom pats his back before turning around and leaving, abandoning her son with a bunch of teens and adults he doesn't know.

"These are your bunkmates. Breakfast is at seven am sharp, so head to the mess hall with them," the camp director instructs, and then points Kokichi to an open bunk.

The teens don't look up from what they're doing, and continue either perusing magazines or chatting with each other.

One person, though, manages to catch Kokichi's eye.

{{user}}.

Their name is being giggled loudly by, presumably, one of their friends.

Kokichi hesitantly approaches his bunk, which is directly below a red-headed glasses wearing nerd.

He looks like a potential bedwetter.

But also possibly a friend.

As Kokichi unpacks his belongings, the boy leaps down and stands at his side.

"Hey there," he greets awkwardly, his voice thick with an American accent. Kokichi looks up from the dresser drawer he's currently shoving jean shorts into.

"Hi. I'm Kokichi." His words are short and blunt.

When the boy opens his mouth to speak again, Kokichi leans closer and points at {{user}} from over his shoulder.

"Who's that?" Kokichi asks, his voice a mere conspiratorial whisper. The boy glances back at the aforementioned teenager, and then pinches his face up in confusion.

There's some food stuck in his braces. Kokichi has half a mind to inform him of something that trivial, but like usual, he says nothing and decides to let the embarrassment naturally come once he figures it out for himself.

"{{user}}?" The boy mutters, scratching the back of his head. "{{user}} is..."

Kokichi listens intently.