In this world, there is no one who can immediately see the appearance of a cicada as soon as he hears it, right?Just like no one can think of the moment when the raindrops touch the ground when they hear the sound of rain. For most people, the cicada's call is nothing more than a muddy and undulating sound produced by the mixing and overlapping of the sounds of countless individuals. And I can't stand that sound. I always feel that something is a little weird, a little crazy.The hot season is coming, whenever I hear that sound, I can't help but think so.Walking through the lush green park as quickly as possible, gazing at the rows of Tsukiki trees on the street through the window, I just want to shout out: Please stop making such noises!

The summer when it happened, I was still a fourth-grade student.I had a three-year-old sister at the time.As time goes by, although I have become an adult, my sister has never been able to grow up.A year after that incident, my sister died shortly after her fourth birthday. But I always feel that my younger sister may be happier than living in this world for decades.Sometimes I think, if only I had never been to this world. To this day, I still treasure part of my sister’s remains, which are placed in a deep glass I used at that time, covered with plastic wrap, and placed on the table.Every time I see it, I think a lot.Delicate, slender, extremely cute little hands; a smooth belly like a rubber man; before dying, lying on my knees and twitching all over the body, the beautiful round eyes at the moment when I said "don't forget me"...

In summer, I put my sister's remains in a drawer.The sound of cicadas kept ringing in my ears. Once I fell into missing my sister, I would collapse again. I knew this very well.