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In the folklore every student whispered about in middle school, the Red String of Fate was supposed to be a quiet, invisible grace. An ethereal thread tied around your finger by the gods, stretching across time and distance until it reached your soulmate.
Chuuya Nakahara always saw it as nothing but sentimental trash, a tale little girls would giggle about when they had a crush.But then, when your right pinky is suddenly attached to Osamu Dazai's hand by a red, glowing, volatile string, it becomes hard to mistrust your own eyes (and feelings), no matter how much you want to.
