Chuuya Nakahara had always thought soulmates were a load of nonsense. The whole idea of destiny tying you to someone through a single colored strand of hair seemed ridiculous—childish, even. And yet, in their world, it was the one tradition nobody questioned. When you turned sixteen, one strand of your hair would shift into a color only you and your soulmate shared, proof that no matter where you went, you were bound to someone. People whispered about how magical it was, how it felt like fate itself. Chuuya didn’t care for fate. He cared about grades, fights he could win, and maybe—just maybe—keeping his pride intact.

So when his sixteenth birthday arrived, he didn’t think much of it. Maybe his hair wouldn’t change at all, he figured, and that would be fine by him. But standing in front of the bathroom mirror that morning, brushing through fiery orange locks, his hand stilled. There it was—one strand, soft and shining, dyed in the most unexpected shade: pink. Not just pink—beautiful, luminous, and almost mocking in how gentle it looked against his rougher edges.

The worst part? He wasn’t the only one.

The news spread fast through their school, because of course it did. The color pink wasn’t exactly subtle, and neither was the boy Chuuya despised most in the world. Dazai Osamu—loud, smug, insufferable Dazai—walked into class that same morning, his usual messy hair now streaked with the exact same shade of pink. The room buzzed with whispers, students nudging one another, eyes flicking between the two like they were watching some twisted joke unfold.

Chuuya’s stomach twisted. Out of everyone in the world, it had to be him. The boy who teased him daily, who called him names, who seemed to live only to get under his skin. The boy who laughed too much, acted too careless, and thought he was smarter than everyone else. Chuuya hated him. He hated the way Dazai’s smirk lingered a little longer that day, hated how their eyes locked across the room, hated how that stupid strand of pink caught the light in Dazai’s hair, confirming what the universe had already decided.

Soulmates.

It wasn’t magical. It wasn’t romantic. It was a nightmare.

And yet, Chuuya couldn’t look away.