The Summer Hikaru Died Episode 6: What’s More Complicated, Supernatural Entities Beyond Mortal Understanding Or Teen Romance?

By Elijah Gonzalez | August 12, 2025 | 9:30am

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The Summer Hikaru Died Episode 6: What’s More Complicated, Supernatural Entities Beyond Mortal Understanding Or Teen Romance?

While The Summer Hikaru Died has always hinted at the philosophical implications of Hikaru 2.0 essentially being a copy of the original, the opening of Episode 6, “Asako,” deals with this conundrum head-on. In the beginning scene, Yoshiki, Asako, and our resident meathead Yuuta discuss the “Swampman Thought Experiment,” which is inspired by Donald Davidson’s dilemma of the same name.

The show’s version is as follows: if a person were to drown in a swamp at the exact time a creature emerged that had their identical appearance and memories, would this second being be the same person as the first? Yuuta immediately says they wouldn’t, with little justification, because he takes naps during philosophy class. Asako points out how all living beings are defined by a Ship of Theseus situation regarding how our cells are constantly dying and being replaced by new ones, leaving us technically “different” than we were before, even though we’re considered the same person. Then, Asako also points out that because we can’t read others’ minds, we can ultimately only judge others based on their outside qualities, meaning that this evaluation is more subjective: to those who don’t know the truth, Swampman is the original.

The Summer Hikaru Died Episode 6

Of course, the reason Yoshiki was so interested in the experiment is that the situation mirrors Hikaru’s. Specifically, this last point made by Asako alludes to how, for everyone besides Yoshiki, Hikaru is still alive. While the series has been gesturing at thought-provoking questions of what defines the “self” from the beginning, this philosophical inquiry directly broaches the subject, encouraging us and Yoshiki to think about the potential differences between the new Hikaru and the original in ways that come to bear later in the episode. Meanwhile, flashbacks to Hikaru’s dead body and close-cropped shots of Yoshiki’s eyes hidden under bangs clue us in that, despite all the progress he’s made with his eldritch boyfriend, our protagonist still has complicated feelings about the circumstances he finds himself in. And beyond this, the sequence also reiterates how Asako is an introspective character who is willing to think through things for herself before rushing to judgment.

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From here, these teens pivot from deep discussion to their plans for the weekend, as teens tend to do. Hikaru’s house is chosen as the destination, but Yoshiki seems bothered by the dangers this could bring. He doesn’t object, though, maybe because he is trying to trust Hikaru, or maybe because he can’t think of a good way to warn everyone without letting his friend’s secret slip.

After these heavier ruminations on the nature of self and identity, the episode smoothly switches into hangout mode, something bolstered by CygamesPictures’ continuously impressive animation; we get a first-person shot of Hikaru holding a sparkler that perfectly captures the vibe of an understated but unforgettable summer night lit by questionably produced fireworks.

There’s Hikaru’s child-like amazement at pyrotechnics, Yoshiki’s content smile while looking on at his friend, and the ever-thoughtful Asako snapping photos that convey nostalgia and the impermanence of this moment (while also only ever capturing Hikaru’s face as a blur, potentially tying into the fact that the others don’t truly “know” him). One of the cutest parts comes as Asako contentedly watches her bestie Rie continue to hit it off with Yuuta (conveyed through her smacking him upside the head)—again, it comes across so well thanks to the great animation, which captures the subtlety of her facial expressions

But of course, this happiness doesn’t last; would this really be The Summer Hikaru Died if there weren’t three or four major tone switches in an episode? As Asako opts to go with Hikaru to pick up a new lighter for their fireworks, it almost seems like she’s about to confess romantic feelings to him before things take a sudden turn: she knows that this isn’t the same Hikaru as before.

Flashback time! Continuing its streak of nailing every jump into the past, we see how an adorable, quite literally snot-nosed Asako learned to use her gift of hearing spirits from her grandmother. Her mentor outlines the overlapping nature of the world of the dead and living, arguing that the two aren’t as separate as they may seem. Moreover, she gets to a particularly essential point which not only underscores the episode, but the show as a whole: spirits aren’t inherently good or evil, they can help and they can hurt.

This point of view feels at least partially influenced by similar ideas in Shintoism, in which the divine isn’t defined by the same kind of good vs. evil dualism of the Abrahamic religions. Shortly after, Asako demonstrates this by passing on a warning from a spirit to save Rie’s life, which certainly explains why her friend was so casual when warned about a dangerous path home a few episodes ago. More broadly, though, this nuanced perspective about the supernatural is one of the most fundamental elements that makes the series so interesting, as we teeter between seeing Hikaru 2.0 as a threat or savior.

It all builds to the climax of the episode, where it very much feels like Asako’s death flag has been raised; more than intergalactic aliens, kaiju, or unstoppable warriors, there’s nothing more deadly to an anime side character than a sympathetically presented backstory. As Hikaru turns towards Asako with glowing red eyes, the direction’s sudden hairpin turn towards dread capitalizes on both this death flag and the goodwill it has built towards Asako, dangling the fate of one of its most likable characters over the edge.

Luckily, Yoshiki is there to stop Hikaru before he devours her, but that doesn’t instantly dispel the tension because what was once a vague worry has become tangible; after trust in him, Hikaru might be a threat to those close to Yoshiki. Moreover, he puts two and two together, realizing that Hikaru killed the old woman from several episodes ago, a classic romance movie moment where a lingering lie between the two love interests suddenly bursts into view, threatening everything they’ve built, except here, instead of being a fib about something relatively minor in the grand scheme of things, it’s about a murder. Cue an uncomfortable close-up of Yoshiki’s horrified face and a Dutch angle that captures his horror.

However, more than setting up this personal drama, the conversation between the two pays off the previously alluded to complexities of this paranormal situation. Much like how it was established that the world of humans and spirits exists side-by-side and that not all ghosts are good or evil, we come to see Hikaru 2.0’s perspective: as a being in limbo between life and death, he doesn’t entirely understand why humans prioritize one state so much over the other. From Hikaru’s point of view, since souls continue to exist after the body dies, crossing over to the other side isn’t necessarily a bad thing; it’s a neutral change. In this sense, it becomes clear that Hikaru doesn’t destroy life out of some smoldering malice, but because he doesn’t understand humans’ fixation on being alive. “Dying ain’t even that scary. You just change shape a little,” he says.

Or, well, sort of. Considering that the new Hikaru shares the old one’s memories, the bounds between the two continue to blur. The only reason Hikaru killed the old woman and tried to absorb Asako is that if they both found out a truth that could have risked his days spent with Yoshiki, because then the two “won’t get to eat ice cream together no more.” Of course, this exposes a contradiction in Hikaru 2.0’s thinking, because if the difference between life and death truly didn’t matter, then he wouldn’t feel so strongly about protecting Yoshiki to preserve their time together. By melding with Hikaru and spending time with Yoshiki, this spirit has come to understand why humans cling to life so dearly. Even putting aside our uncertainty about what comes after death, passing over means you can’t spend time with your loved ones as you would in life.

The conversation succeeds at not only making us somewhat sympathetic to Hikaru 2.0 by capturing his outlook, but also at showing how confused he is as a being stuck between life and death, with the clashing ideals of Hikaru and the mountain being creating something that isn’t either of them—pivoted away from the Swampman Thought Experiment, showing that Hikaru 2.0 isn’t the original or an ancient entity possessing a corpse, but both. Here, so many different elements of the series collide: explorations of grief, the philosophical complexities of the self and what defines us, Shintoist notions of spirituality, and an intentional tonal friction between lighter slice-of-life moments and horror, all slamming together in an exchange of words.

And once again, Yoshiki is caught at the crux of all these dilemmas due to being in love (whether he knows it or not) with his dead best friend and the being that’s replaced him. While the episode ends with Yoshiki meeting at Hikaru’s house the next morning for school, showing that he still believes in Hikaru 2.0 to some degree, these lingering circumstances are far from resolved.

The Summer Hikaru Died is available 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.