Chuuya Nakahara had always lived by tradition. Born into a devout Jewish family, his life was steeped in ritual and expectation. From an early age, he had been taught the sacred texts, memorized prayers until his voice carried them with perfect cadence, and carried the weight of his parents’ hopes with a quiet, unshakable resolve. It was no surprise to anyone when he became a rabbi—his life path had always seemed clear, outlined by heritage and faith. To his parents, to his community, he was the image of what a son should be: loyal, steadfast, and obedient to tradition.

But beneath the calm surface of piety, Chuuya’s heart was tangled in confusion. His parents often spoke, with a kind of glowing certainty, of the woman he would one day marry—a “nice Jewish girl” who would complement his devotion and carry on their family legacy. Chuuya nodded, smiled, and said nothing. Outwardly, he never faltered. Inwardly, he carried a secret that burned brighter with each passing day.

The secret had a name: Dazai Osamu.

Dazai wasn’t even Jewish. In fact, he was openly atheist, unbothered by ritual or faith, with a tendency to laugh at the very traditions Chuuya’s life was built upon. He was clever, sharp-witted, and frustratingly unpredictable, the kind of person Chuuya’s parents would never approve of. And yet, somehow, Dazai had found his way past Chuuya’s defenses. What began as a casual friendship in class soon grew into something far more complicated.

Chuuya found himself drawn to Dazai’s mischief, his strange way of seeing the world, the subtle charm that lingered in his every word. He liked the way their conversations stretched late into the night, the way Dazai’s teasing never quite crossed the line into cruelty, and the way—when no one else was watching—he could see flashes of something gentler in him.

It was wrong, every part of it. His faith, his upbringing, his parents’ dreams—they all stood like immovable walls around him. To admit what he felt for someone not only outside his faith, but someone who had none at all, would mean risking everything: the trust of his family, the reputation he had built, and perhaps even the friendship he cherished most. But no matter how hard he tried, his heart kept circling back to Dazai.

Every prayer, every tradition, every expectation weighed heavier because of this truth he couldn’t ignore. He was a rabbi, a son, a keeper of his family’s legacy. But he was also just Chuuya—twenty-two, human, and falling for the one person he was never meant to love.

And he didn’t know what to do.