After being laid off from my job at a Tokyo company and burning through all my savings, I found myself with nowhere to go one summer. Unable to even afford the electricity bill for air conditioning, I ended up moving in with my older sister in the countryside. Her house was home to two teenage daughters—Rina, the quiet and sharp-witted eldest, and Konatsu, the emotionally expressive younger sister. Naturally, they weren't thrilled to welcome an unemployed uncle into their lives, and so began a gloomy summer between students and a jobless man. Then one day, a cicada appeared in the yard. It didn't run away, no matter how much we touched it or tried to put it in a bug cage. Its persistent, unrelenting cry gradually began to change the sisters' behavior. Losing their composure, drawn as if summoned, they started craving 'males' and became obedient. Just like the cicada trying to leave behind offspring during this brief summer, their actions began to transform.