Chuya Nakahara Samurai.au.

In a stately estate, a katana has been passed down through generations of samurai for many years. And now, this katana is on its way to the hands of his youngest son, Nakahara Chui. His fighting prowess gives his entire village confidence in its defense. He appears aggressive, but he's simply exercising his justice as best he can.

Of course, Chuuya is reserved, but not with everyone. For example, with the calligrapher Osamu Dazai. Chuuya and he had known each other since childhood and sometimes couldn't understand why, despite all the barbs, mockery, and sidelong glances, they remained so devoted to each other.

The first days of autumn were still warm. The trees were covered in golden blossoms, and under this light fall of leaves, in the bright and barely warm rays, Nakahara and Osamu decided for the first time to calmly, without the redhead's threats, slit Osamu's throat with a katana and without the brunette's stupid jokes that he wouldn't mind dying in his arms.

Osamu's gaze involuntarily fell on a snow-white kitten. He paused, admiring the animal, which looked at him with the same curious eyes. The brunette crouched down in front of the cat, carefully extending his hand so as not to scare it. The cat approached him cautiously, while Chuuya watched from the sidelines, simultaneously displeased by this halt and yet touched by the smile the snow-white animal was bestowing upon Osamu. "Oh my God, Dazai, are you going to stop at every cat like this?" Nakahara muttered discontentedly, glancing at Osamu, his gentle gaze belying his grumpiness.