The Summer Hikaru Died

Episode 8

Googling how to wash a bloodstained shirt is probably the funniest opening scene this episode could have gone with. It's a salient reminder that, horrors and monstrosities aside, these are stupid teens who have no idea what they're doing. In fact, that lack of wisdom and foresight defines many of Yoshiki's and Hikaru's actions this week. After their confrontation at knifepoint, this episode is about consequences, which includes reverberations that originated centuries ago.

We pick up on scattered details about the connection between Nonuki (presumably the creature otherwise known as Hikaru) and their village. Although the big picture remains vague, I've encountered my fair share of pastoral horror, and I'm inclined to attribute most if not all of the described curses and calamities to humans. If I were to fill in the blanks, I'd speculate that the village used to appease Nonuki with ritualistic sacrifice (hence the “murder village” moniker), but instead turned on their “god” when the famine hit. Alternatively, it's possible the famine was a post hoc explanation of some other ritual gone afoul. That's not to say Hikaru/Nonuki isn't dangerous, because he is, but this genre is stuffed with cautionary tales about people meddling with natural forces they cannot and should not control.

Furthermore, I'm glad that The Summer Hikaru Died recognizes that horror is allowed, if not encouraged to stretch the limits of its audience's disbelief. As long as an idea is unique, meaningful, or cool enough to justify it, I don't think horror needs to adhere to reality or strict logic. For instance, take the giant person-shaped village that got split up into several smaller villages named after their respective body parts. That's ridiculous taken at face value, but it makes for a neat image and a potent moment of realization for our main characters. It tells them that whatever is hiding in the past, it's big.

Meanwhile, the consequences of their actions (and inactions) haunt both Hikaru and Yoshiki in unsettlingly direct ways. For example, the librarian turns out to be the daughter of Ms. Matsuura, the old woman Hikaru killed back in the first episode. Later, he admits to Yoshiki that he still doesn't fully understand why humans make such a big deal out of death, but we can see that he looks uncomfortable when he says so. He's reacting to Yoshiki's disapproval, which isn't the same as remorse, but it might help him get there. Or at least that's what Yoshiki thinks. On his end, Yoshiki feels guilty when Asako tells him about her hearing problems, and Hikaru again sheepishly tries to explain himself and downplay the damage. For a mysterious eldritch entity, he continues to be very puppy-coded.

That cuteness works in his favor, too. Yoshiki, armed with the cooler head of a new day, still accepts Hikaru's pledge to behave, and he keeps his bone at the ready in his breast pocket. However, this also has repercussions neither of the boys foresee. Hikaru conspicuously shows Yoshiki that he can heal himself before he notices a bruise that doesn't go away. This is our first clue that he is significantly weakened now, a detail which comes to a head when he can't devour the decapitated ghost pursuing him. Big romantic gestures are nice and all, but they don't solve everything. This episode's gruesome intrusions—the possessed man in the schoolyard and the ghost at the end—remind us that the horrors persist.

Weirdly, that tone mutates the interjection of direct comedy into something more sinister. Yoshiki finally runs into Tanaka, and rather than butt heads, they bond jovially over their mutual love of hamsters. It would be an adorable moment if not for literally everything else surrounding it. Tanaka, unsurprisingly, picks up on Yoshiki's connection to the other side, but he's savvy enough not to tip his hand. This confirms that he is indeed a serious threat to Hikaru, which is further supported when his “bloodhound” catches up with them in the cliffhanger. Given their spontaneous bout of friendship, though, I'm curious whether Tanaka will try to talk Yoshiki out of his bond with Hikaru, like Rie has. Tanaka definitely seems business-oriented, but he could have a soft spot.

Family is a very important theme to keep in mind. As an abstract concept, it defines much of our lives and relationships, and the loss of family in particular connects many of the characters in The Summer Hikaru Died. The elder Matsuura aged into a paranoid hermit due to the loss of her daughter in the mountains, which additionally affected the librarian Matsuura's connection with her mother, estranging them. Similarly, losing her husband made Rie put her hopes in his spirit when he returned from the dead, but that only ended up “tainting” her son and turning her against the supernatural. While we can take her account literally, we can also interpret it as Rie refusing to accept death and hurting her family in the process. It's implied that the death of his dad forced the original Hikaru to take on the mantle of appeasing the mountain god—a task which eventually killed him as well.

Family isn't all bad, of course. Yoshiki cared enough about his mom and sister to say goodbye to them last week. Hikaru (both of him) seems to have a good rapport with his parents and grandparents. But the story's main relationship is not familial. They're not even the same species. Despite everything, Yoshiki still chooses to find succor in his connection to Hikaru, even if it hurts the people close to him.

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The Summer Hikaru Died is currently streaming on Netflix.