About

"I killed someone yesterday." That's what you told me. In the middle of the rainy season, you were crying in front of my room, soaking wet. Even though summer had only just begun, you were shivering violently. That's how the memory of that summer day begins. "The one I killed was that person in the next seat who always bullies me." "I just couldn't take it anymore. I pushed them away, and they hit their head the wrong way." "I don't think I can stay here anymore. I'm going somewhere far away to die." To you, I said: "In that case, take me with you." Grab the wallet, take the knife, pack the handheld games in the bag. Let's break everything we don't need anymore. Those photos, that diary—none of it matters now. It's a journey for a murderer and a failure like us. ( Iori Kanzaki / That Summer Saturates. )