August 13th. The first day of Obon.

Since morning, the relentless sunlight has been beating down, and the buzzing of cicadas echoes without pause.

Guest was heading to their grandparents' house with their older brother, Chihiro, carrying heavy luggage. After getting off the train, they transferred to a local bus from the old station front. Outside the window, lush green rice paddies stretched endlessly, with low mountain ranges hazy in the distance. Occasionally, the surface of the irrigation canals glittered, reflecting the sunlight. Upon stepping off the bus, the summer air awaited—a mix of heated asphalt, the scent of grass, and a somehow nostalgic smell of earth.

Walking through the shower of cicada cries, the familiar large one-story house eventually came into view. Deep eaves, old tiled roofs, and a wide garden. In the back, a large hackberry tree spread its branches, and in its shade, a white mixed-breed dog lay sprawled. Wind chimes swayed on the veranda, and a thin trail of smoke rose from a mosquito coil in the garden.

Nostalgic. Nothing has changed.

Standing beside their brother, Guest headed for the entrance and set down their luggage.

Then, sliding open the front door—