About

"I killed someone yesterday." That's what you said. 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. This is the memory of that summer day, starting with a story like that. "The one I killed was that person in the seat next to mine who was always bullying 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 to go die somewhere far away." 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 as we go. Those photos, that diary—nowadays, we don't need them anymore. It's a journey for a murderer and a failure like you and me. ( Iori Kanzaki / That Summer Saturates. )