âHikaru Was Dead, I Still Loved Himâ
Image: 'Determination', S1E7, The Summer Hikaru Died, Netflix.
Should you ask me why exactly Iâm writing about an animeâor hell, even attempting to write for an animeâfor the first time despite watching the genre since I was eleven, with over two hundred completed series⊠I donât know. And Iâm not apologetic about it.
I suppose people may wonder what could have been so awesome or soul-moving that I had to write about it. No, not really. Why must we attach significance to bloody writing anyway?
I digress. For that, I apologise.
The show⊠I suppose I picked it off Netflix purely because the title didnât pretend otherwise. The Summer Hikaru Died. We knew Hikaru was dead. Despite my long watchlist, filled with beloved new seasons of beloved old anime, why did I skip all that to watch one whose future wasnât even certain? Now it is, but back thenâit wasnât even that funny.
The Summer Hikaru Died, Season 1.
I must say, the animation and storyline are unconventional by any standard. We know from the title: Hikaru, whoever that is, is dead. Okay, so? Now what?
It couldâve gone a dozen waysâa zombie thriller, a cutesy slice-of-life comedy where a soulless boy sees life differently, or even pure, unfiltered supernatural horror.
The last one, for those whoâve watched it, is essentially what it becomes.
Was it though?
For me, it was a colossal confusion. A slow, depressing trip I could only manage when I was in that introverted, self-loathing, world-hating mood. No, Iâm not self-destructive. But yes, perhaps I am the literal definition of it.
The Summer Hikaru Died.
Despite not wanting to look at it like a better-than-god English graduate (Iâm not, though Iâve suffered at the hands of oneâan extremely self-obsessed and narcissistic one who should perhaps not exist, but does), I canât help but notice: summerâa time of fun, gooey goodness, and naĂŻve sunlit frolicsâis also when you realise who you gravitate to. When youâre left alone, without the excuse of schoolwork, and you see who stays.
But Hikaru was dead.
So who the hell was Yoshiki with?
Thatâs the unsettling question you sit with from episode one. It sets the eerie toneâsomething that could have been a comedy or a thrillerâbut immediately twists into something darker when dead Hikaru asks, âDo I have to kill Yoshiki?â A question followed by an oozing, amoebic mass of abstract nightmare fuel. Something Hikaru never wanted to do. Even when alive.
Layered over the background of a cursed village, shady elders, daddy issues, and a mysterious stranger (not dead Hikaru) with an ancient rodentâthereâs no denying the show captures a chilling, eerie adrenaline thatâs hard to look away from.
The show has everything I occasionally crave: a creepy rural Japanese village, closeted romance, and those serene countryside visuals that make you want to pack up and move thereâif money werenât a problem.
But The Summer Hikaru Died played something far more spiritual than I expected. (Pardon the language; one of the first doomed generations must speak plainly, after all.)
âWhat the fuck even truly matters?â
Thatâs the one thing wrecking Yoshiki through the whole series. For twelve episodes, he toils over morals, over grief he canât voice. Hikaru is only a monster because Yoshiki knows, or suspects, he is. And Hikaru agrees. No matter what the story tells usâHikaru is monstrous only because Yoshiki is projecting it.
I suppose thatâs why people say ignorance is bliss.
Because everyone elseâthe townspeople, the village eldersânever doubt Hikaru. Yoshiki builds a graveyard of his own making, trying to protect the memory of his only friend, even attempting to teach the dead one how to live.
Why?
Because Hikaru only wanted to experience life.
He was living for Yoshiki.
We know that. Dying Hikaru said it himself.
He didnât want Yoshiki to be alone.
Why?
Because Yoshiki overthinks.
(Us bro, us.)
But also, heâs the only one who knows Hikaru best. Beyond the façade. And franklyâhe loves him. Romantic? Platonic? Who the hell cares?
âWhat the fuck even truly matters?â
Itâs been troublesome since some self-claimed supreme asshole (Iâm sure it was a man) laid down the rules of whom to love and how. What kind of love is âgoodâ or âbad.â That love is cheesy. You lactose-intolerant twat. And to anyone still claiming that in 2025âI feel sad for you. You clearly arenât loved enough.
I digress, but for that, I donât apologise.
If youâre still hereâthank you. But this isnât a review. I never said it was.
You can find the professional critiques online. With them pretty starsâŠor tomatoes, whatever gets you going.
Iâm just rambling.
I finished the show. I am not expecting or hoping for you to watch it, please I donât care about you.Â
And in its truest sense, Yoshiki realisesâthe legends, the curse, the monsterânone of that matters. The real problem was himself.
We love a self-aware queen.
Hikaru was never the problem.
Frankly, I liked dead Hikaru more.
He gave me storiesâthe hell the villagers built for themselves with their guilt, their curse, their ritual of chopping heads and creating their own damnation.
We humans love absolution.
We love the reaping of what our ancestors sowed. We crave karma, suffering now so we can earn heaven laterâeven if we have to create our own hell to get there.
Such sadists we are.
They dragged my poor dead Hikaru through all that guilt who wanted to leave back to that wretched mountain, when he couldâve been splashing in the sea with a salamander pool tube, eating ice cream, or doing his schoolwork (badly, but lovingly).
But Yoshiki is no human.
And it soothed me when, early on, he accepts Hikaruâtells him he doesnât want him to be human. That heâd rather love the new Hikaru as he is.
That moment cemented the anime as one of the highlights of the year for me. Yoshiki realises the true monster has been him all along.
That loving a monster, and trying to âfixâ him, was easier than accepting that humans are the real monstersâbecause at least monsters and gods are honest about being black or white. We, on the other hand, live and die in murky grey.
The show, for once, dares to show that Hikaruâs evolutionâhis willingness to explore those greysâwas because Yoshiki was already drowning in them.
It ends beautifully, painfully, with Yoshiki realising heâs the monster. That Hikaruâs self-sacrifice was just another morally ârightâ act born of selfish love.
Who even makes these morals?
They were never Yoshikiâs.
He just wanted his best friend.
Everything else is secondary.
And yet the looming fear of season two remainsâespecially now that the salamander pool tube is returned, by the ancient pooping hamsterâs sidekick.
Japan does it againâlayering philosophical heaviness beneath that picturesque, nostalgic summer vibe. The same one we grew up withâbad quality Shinchan, Doraemon, popsicles, and the sound of cicadas.
That perhaps, itâs better to accept being a monster than being human.
Image: 'Determination', S1E7, The Summer Hikaru Died, Netflix.