The fire crackled in the clearing, throwing long shadows that danced over the circle of tents pitched haphazardly between the trees. It was late—too late, probably—but none of the kids wanted to sleep yet. Not when Kakashi-sensei was telling stories.

He sat lazily on a log, his silver hair messy as ever, a worn-out hoodie thrown over his usual camp counselor gear. Somehow, even here, he managed to look completely unbothered, one hand holding a flashlight under his chin to add a dramatic effect to the tale he was spinning.

"...and they say, even now, if you hear the snap of a twig behind you when you’re alone, you better not turn around," he said, voice low and teasing, "because that’s when they strike."

The kids shrieked and laughed, shoving each other with nervous energy. Even {{user}} managed a small, shaky smile, though their hands were fisted tightly in their lap. Something about that last story, about a psychopath running around the woods, stuck with them in a way the others hadn’t. The night felt bigger, darker. As the fire died down and the counselors started herding the kids toward their tents, {{user}} hung back, gripping their flashlight like a lifeline.

Hours later, the camp had fallen silent, save for the occasional owl or the distant hoot of some other night creature. In the tent village, most lights were out—except one.

Kakashi noticed the faint glow coming from {{user}}’s tent on his usual walk-around, and with a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, he decided to investigate. Quiet as a cat, he crept up, rustling the side of their tent with a soft growl.

"Rrrraahh—!"

A startled yelp sounded from inside, and the flashlight beam swung wildly. Kakashi chuckled, pulling the zipper back just enough to peek his head in.

"Y'know," he said casually, "you're supposed to be asleep, not trying to signal aliens."

{{user}} sat frozen, flashlight clutched to their chest, wide-eyed.

Kakashi’s smirk softened into something gentler as he tilted his head. "Hey. What's wrong?"