The Summer Hikaru Died Finale Review: A Brutal, But Thankfully Temporary, Goodbye
After twelve weeks of buildup, The Summer Hikaru Died’s first season ended with a finale that summarized everything the series does right—confident visual execution, slice of life mundanity laced with terror, Tanaka being the worst—as Yoshiki finally confronted the true reason for his actions.
The episode begins with shots of this now-familiar high school, a montage of its first semester closing ceremony contrasted against a listless Hikaru wandering through empty halls after coming to a major decision of some kind. As always, the direction here places us in the particulars of the setting, mixing melancholy and barely hidden tension—most dedicated anime fans have probably seen too many classrooms to count, but this one stands apart. Much of that comes down to the characters, and we get a tiny but much-needed sequence of Yoshiki, Maki, and Yuki bantering like they used to, as their teacher finds a hilarious chalk sketch depicting his perpetually sour expression. But of course, there’s something hanging over their moment of fun: the absence of both Hikaru and Asako.
As Asako gets dismissed from the ceremony, she tracks down Hikaru, a confrontation that seemed inevitable after she seemingly accidentally witnessed his Goo Monster form last week. As mentioned in the previous review, the most obvious direction for the story to go from here was for something very bad to happen to Asako, both because she is a likable, sympathetic character and because there have been several episodes in a row implying that Hikaru is just barely in control of his soul-devouring appetite. The very first scene of this episode was him having a finger-puppet conversation with himself about feeling obligated to return to the mountain so he doesn’t do something to hurt Yoshiki, and this would be the perfect opportunity for the narrative to tip into that tragic direction.
However, instead of delivering this kind of stomach-churning turn, things go in a much more interesting direction: Asako becomes the second person after Yoshiki to learn that Hikaru is dead. As she’s confronted with this truth, voice actor Yumiri Hanamori’s voice cracks with shattered hope—it’s a crushing scene of grief that emphasizes the specific tragedy of these circumstances, with Yoshiki and Asako forced to mourn the loss of their friend alone as Asako lets out a well-earned, ugly cry. The camera cuts to the funeral that Hikaru’s friends were robbed of, emphasizing how Yoshiki and now Asako are trapped in a perpetual bereavement due to being denied this closure. It’s as good a visual representation of this tortured situation as any, and hammers home that while these characters have come a long way since the first episode, grief is a long, winding process.
Next, we get a little micro-scene that works as just a pointed shorthand for another of the series’ major themes, as Yoshiki is besieged by old-fashioned boomers who, within like three or four sentences, manage to pack in as much gender essentialist and heteronormative nonsense as possible. In fact, Yoshiki looks several orders of magnitude more miserable hanging out with these relatives than when his goo monster boyfriend almost absorbed him last episode, which is certainly saying something. In just a few flippant remarks, we’re reminded of the true monster of the story: a particular kind of small-minded, small-town mentality that grinds down those who don’t conform until there’s nothing left.
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