Chuuya Nakahara had never really thought much about city boys. Didn’t have to. His world began and ended on the edge of the sunbaked plains, where dust kicked up like smoke and horses ran faster than most folks could dream. He was a cowboy—born to it, raised by it. Woke up with the roosters, boots on before breakfast, hat snug on his head like it was stitched to his skull. His whole life had been about rodeos, rustling cattle, helping his old man with the ranch and the stalls, and learning the kind of work that made a boy grow calluses on his hands and steel in his spine.

They lived in a small town where horse races were the highlight of every season and the summer fairs brought fireworks, fried food, and a heap of strangers with deep pockets. Folks sold everything from hand-stitched leather to homemade pie. You earned your dollar with sweat and grit, and Chuuya? Well, he took pride in that.

He wasn’t a big talker at school, not when there was always work to do back home. The school itself was small—barely fifty kids in the whole place, grades blended together like one big family. Everyone knew everyone else, and that suited Chuuya just fine. Routine was comfort, and he didn’t care much for change.

So, when his Pa told him a boy from the city would be living with them for the summer, it hit like a kick to the gut.

“Son of an old friend,” his father had said. “Name’s Dazai. Boy needs some discipline. Thought maybe a summer of hard work would do him good.”

That was all Chuuya needed to hear to start forming opinions. Some spoiled brat from the city coming in like he owned the place, probably never mucked a stall in his life or lifted anything heavier than a textbook. Chuuya didn’t like it. Not one bit. City folks talked too fast, smiled too fake, and never stayed long enough to understand the land or the people on it.

Still, it wasn’t like he could say no.

Dazai was coming, whether Chuuya liked it or not. And he’d be living under the same roof, eating at the same table, waking up to the same chores. Chuuya didn’t know what to expect—just that it probably wasn’t going to be good.

But deep down, beneath the dust and denim and pride, there was a flicker of curiosity he didn’t dare admit out loud.

Who the hell was this Dazai, and what kind of mess was he gonna bring to Chuuya’s quiet little world?