The Summer Hikaru Died Episode 3 Review: Wilting Sunflowers And A New Status Quo

By Elijah Gonzalez | July 22, 2025 | 9:00am

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The Summer Hikaru Died Episode 3 Review: Wilting Sunflowers And A New Status Quo

Sunflowers have quite a number of meanings in flower language. They can represent longevity, loyalty, adoration, and unwavering faith, just to name a few. However, the meaning that feels most relevant to “Denial,” the third episode of The Summer Hikaru Dies, is something different: unconditional love.

It begins with a flashback as a young Yoshiki and Hikaru share a watermelon. Even then, Hikaru was eager to make his friend laugh as he tries to scarf down his slice in one go like a cartoon character. Hikaru’s dad looks on with amusement as the two teary-eyed kids increasingly convince themselves that they’re going to die and become “watermelon men” because they accidentally swallowed the seeds (what kid hasn’t had a watermelon-themed scare), before calmly intervening to get them to stop crying. A garden of pristinely kept sunflowers in full bloom crowds the frame, rounding out the idyllic image.

The scene is framed in a 4:3 aspect ratio, with color grading that captures the feel of an old, worn-out image, like a nostalgic Polaroid left in the sun. And before long, we come to understand that we’ve been placed in the middle of this beautiful summer day to make both us and Yoshiki reflect on just how much he’s lost. As he thinks back on his long history with his dead best friend, the camera keeps cutting to those perfect sunflowers from that perfect afternoon. Then we see them wilting in the sun.

The first two episodes have devoted plenty of time to Yoshiki as he understandably freaks out because, unbeknownst to everyone else in his town, his best friend and closeted romantic interest is dead, with his corpse being puppeteered by a mysterious blob monster from a cursed mountain. As Yoshiki brings a watermelon to Hikaru’s house, the parallels and contrasts between the ideal past we saw in the intro and the horrifying present are enough to shock him out of complacency.

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This conflict, where Yoshiki grapples with the multiple layers of messed-up circumstances, remains engrossing, thorny, and complicated. His breakdown is motivated by a few different factors: first, there’s the very real danger of being around this unknown, potentially very dangerous being. It’s a situation that’s even harder to ignore after Mrs. Kurebayashi, a woman with spiritual powers, warned him that he’s in harm’s way in the last episode. The second reason for Yoshiki’s panic attack is how his grief has become entirely irrepressible after witnessing so many summer sights—sunflowers, watermelon, a familiar tatami mat—that remind him of his dead friend. And three, there’s Yoshiki’s continued attraction to Hikaru as he sweats in the summer sun, which leaves him confused and upset due to his internalized homophobia and fear of being seen as different. Together, all three create a rising, corrosive mixture in his stomach that very literally causes him to hurl. CygamesPictures doesn’t skimp on the details; the oppressive summer heat comes across in the lighting as a frenzied montage pushes our protagonist towards his breaking point, where he finally asks Mrs. Kurebayashi for help.

This conversation between Yoshiki and Kurebayashi gives us some important information. It’s heavily implied that this kindly woman has gone through something similar to our protagonist, with her deceased husband “returning” in a fashion that left their son with a permanent scar, and seemingly left a mark where her wedding ring used to be. Kurebayashi further explains that a spiritual balance has been thrown off since the presence from the mountain vanished (the thing possessing Hikaru), unleashing long-necked nightmare creatures and other supernatural beings into their community. Related to this, we discovered earlier in the episode that Hikaru’s father died on the mountain years ago, implying that this creature may be to blame.

This is where things get interesting: while Yoshiki and Hikaru’s forbidden relationship is very much meant to serve as a stand-in for queer relationships, it is also very literally true that this possessed version of Hikaru is quite dangerous, given that we saw him kill somebody in the first episode. Mrs. Kurebayashi seems to be reaching out to Yoshiki out of genuine concern that he doesn’t repeat the same mistakes she made. While the show’s balance between LGBTQ+ metaphor and supernatural thriller remains precarious, it has excelled in both modes so far, something still true as the episode comes to a head.

Because when Yoshiki heeds Kurebayashi’s warning and rebuffs Hikaru at school the next day with the words “Go away creep,” it feels like a double entendre that addresses both this very real danger and Yoshiki’s unresolved romantic feelings. Even more so because their argument is over an unknown phone number contacting Yoshiki (Kurebayashi), causing Hikaru to get agitated like an aggrieved lover. As Yoshiki lays into Hikaru for not actually being his Hikaru, for being a fake, the art style shifts as Hikaru is portrayed in sketchy line art that eventually unravels into a tenuous thread.

Here, the already complicated situation becomes even more complicated as we learn that the being possessing Hikaru seems to be entirely genuine in its affections towards Yoshiki, with its memories blending so thoroughly with those of its host that it can’t tell where its feelings begin and Hikaru’s end. It doesn’t seem to be a cold, emotionless entity that’s been scheming to get on Yoshiki’s good side, but something in the process of becoming human, making the situation all the more nuanced—it can’t be stressed that at basically every juncture so far, the narrative has made decisions which makes this situation more fraught and compelling. And if that wasn’t enough, the creature seemed lonely even before it possessed a human, making its relationship with Yoshiki all the more precious.

Both boys are in the thick of it, messy blobs of conflicting emotions that explode as Yoshiki rejects this Hikaru as a fake. Following up on the previous episode, another homoerotic body horror scene ensues as the blob creature bursts out of Hikaru’s body, engulfing Yoshiki as the latter proceeds to say a series of barely concealed innuendos that once again allude to the story’s queer undercurrents. The conflict between the two is both physical and emotional, about the danger of this creature and the fact that it has possessed Hikaru’s body, but also the forbidden attraction between the two, delivering the mixture of supernatural dread and romance that makes this story such a fascinating contrast.

And then we’re back in lore/backstory mode for a brief moment as we see someone who looks like Hikaru but isn’t cradling what appears to be a human head: my guess is that one of Hikaru’s ancestors was involved with the events that created the mysterious creature from the mountain, which is why it seems to draw to his family in particular. So far, the series has effectively woven in allusions to a bigger picture while ensuring that the main attraction is the tumultuous relationship between its leads, and that remains true here as the episode shifts into its final conflict.

After making us thoroughly sympathetic to a heartbroken Eldritch blob monster in the shape of a teenage boy, Yoshiki is forced to finally address a major root cause of his current angst: by pretending nothing has happened and treating this new Hikaru as if he’s still the old one, he is bottling up his own grief, regret, and fear. And so, to at least take the first step in addressing those emotions, and to appease his lovably goofy friends who guilt him for being mean, he heads over to Hikaru’s house, who is in sad blankie mode. As Yoshiki fully accepts that this Hikaru is different than his own, he places his hand on the new Hikaru’s cheek in a heartwarming display of intimacy, rounding out a rom-com apology scene that sees the two boys reaching a new status quo.

To be honest, I’m surprised that this resolution came so quickly, but the direction and imagery here are so dense with visual storytelling, and there are so many more problems on the horizon, that this turn feels earned. While I hope that some of Yoshiki’s messy feelings about this situation persist, it seems we’re moving towards a new chapter in this story, one that will see the boys dealing with as many external threats as internal ones.

And if the final shot of the episode is any indication, I imagine it’s not smooth sailing from here. Remember the insert shots of blooming sunflowers interspersed throughout the episode? On one hand, those can be viewed as representing unconditional love, the type that would get a guy to forgive the fact that their boyfriend is a goo creature controlling the corpse of their dead best friend. But as the sunflowers wilt in the parting shot of the episode, it seems that this relationship may not be a perfect one. Or hey, maybe the sunflowers represent Hikaru and/or precious halcyon memories of him, and their wilting is representative of Yoshiki taking a step towards accepting his grief— after all, there isn’t one “correct” answer to symbolism. Even still, there’s no getting over that red glint that sometimes comes in Hikaru’s eye or the fact that a whole bunch of villagers are hell bent on purging this spirit. Until they address the rightfully panicking townsfolk, deadly spirits, and whatever secret the mountain holds, these two have plenty of trials on the way.

The Summer Hikaru Died streams every Saturday on Netflix.

Elijah Gonzalez is an associate editor for Endless Mode. In addition to playing the latest, he also loves anime, movies, and dreaming of the day he finally gets through all the Like a Dragon games. You can follow him on Bluesky @elijahgonzalez.bsky.social.