The heat came close to breaking the thermometer. Even though the temperature was rising, and the cicadas were buzzing, all Akari wanted to do was go on a million adventures, and there was no place that she didn't want to explore. Whether it was during the day or night, she'd shake on my arm and shout in my ear "Hey Kazuya, are you ready for an ADVENTURE?!" While pointing in every single direction that she could think of with her other hand.

But usually, her "adventures" would take us to a small tree somewhere in the town, or the big rock that just stood there in the field. They were still fun though.

In the stillness of the summer, it seemed like Akari was one of the only moving things in this season. Her white dress flowing around as she spun, it reminded me of a jellyfish.


That might've been the only color that moved in summer. I believed that until Akari pointed something out to me:

"Hey Kazuya, did you know that yellow is the color of summer?"


Yeah, that's what she said.

She was right. Everything did have a bit of yellow in it: all the houses in the town, the lamp posts at night, the fireflies, and the sunset. Akari must've noticed it a long time ago. After all, she did die a long time ago…

Throughout those days, I felt the urge to go up to her and ask "Hey Akari, how'd you die anyways?"


I'd rather not. Just thinking about it makes me feel sick.

I remember when my dad first gave me that warning. He always said it like I would've gotten killed or something. I expected that the ghost he was talking about would be some kind of vengeful spirit, like a woman with a slit mouth, or a girl without legs, something like that.

And then it just turned out to be Akari.

Thanks for the warning dad.

It really wasn't too weird, or dangerous like his tone implied it would be. After a while, things just phased back into normal, sort of.

Akari's favorite part of the day was dinner, even though she couldn't eat. Whenever it was my turn to cook, Akari would come up to me (popping out from a wall or something) and say "I want some too!"

Saying no to Akari was a mistake (she'd pummel her tiny fists into me), so I'd always just go with an "Okay."

I'd cook three bowls, one for my aunt (who was completely invisible to Akari), one for me, and one for Akari. It was a family dinner, except Akari never really touched her food. It felt a little weird, like she was my annoying little sister or something like that.

Well, those days repeated for the rest of the summer. And before I knew it, July flew away on the calendar.