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catsvrsdogscatswin · 7 months ago

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Higurashi Month 2024, Day 1: Pride

Higurashi Month prompts archive: AO3

With the suddenness and swiftness of any summer storm, the sky greyed over. Mion flicked a glance at the darkening clouds overhead as they closed in, but she didn't pay attention to it any more than to confirm that the sunlight racing backwards a few miles off wasn't going to come back and blind them at an inopportune time.

"The sun was shining just a few minutes ago…" Keiichi murmured, staring up at the sky in surprise. Heh, still a city boy in the end. "Now it looks like it's gonna rain…"

"There are still signs of enemy presence," Rika chirped, and everyone turned to look at Mion.

"I'd guess their forces are already down by eighty percent," she answered, standing tall under their eyes. "But Takano-san won't back down. Her pride won't let her."

The others looked downcast, some of their eyes searching the grass at their feet as though answers might be hidden there.

Mion knew better. She knew Takano-san –not well, but well enough. The kind of person who'd flip the tables over when their life's work was threatened, the kind of person who could be coerced without realizing by the leader of another faction –their pride was as good as a set of blinders. Those were the type of leaders who, when trounced as thoroughly as this, would lash out like a wounded snake, retaliating again and again, until all their venom had run dry. The concept of retreat no longer existed in such a mind.

"Do you think Shi-chan and the others are safe…?" she heard Rena murmur as Mion looked at the racing clouds, feeling the damp, sweet wind rustle through the treetops.

"Let's trust that they are, and do everything we can here," she answered absently.

Then she turned, her sneaker scuffing a line over the grassy dirt, and swept out her arm as she addressed her troops.

"We've reached the final stages of our operation; and they're not the only ones running low on stamina," Mion said loudly, watching the others' faces harden. "We'll meet them here. Are you ready?"

Grim nods all around, and it made her heart nearly burst with pride and love to see. Her friends were ready, and they were steel all the way down to the marrow.

However, Mion's mind was then left free to race as they took their places, information pumping through her head at top speed. This was the worst part –not the deep breath before the plunge, but the moment when she'd spun the dice and they'd hit the table with a clatter, and she looked into her opponent's face and hoped she'd read them right. Her plans were arranged, her strategies deployed, and now –now she had to wait for the enemy to take the first step, and merely pray to any gods she cared to that she had accurately predicted where it would land.

Aside from the long, hissing rustle of leaves and grass as the cloudburst blew in towards them and the distant thud-thud-thud of some traveling vehicle, the clearing was silent. No one spoke; they all knew each other's hearts, and there was nothing left to say.

Then, a rustle in the grass, shorter and sharper and off-key from the wind. Everyone straightened; Mion resisted the urge to touch her airsoft gun in its shoulder-holster. These Wild Dogs had real guns, and to draw hers would be to invite immediate response. They needed holding action; they needed to talk, to delay.

She didn't know these men. She didn't know who they were, what they were like. But Mion was banking on fear and exhaustion and, quite frankly, instinct to hold them back from merely gunning the club down where they stood. Everyone who stood here, herself included, was a child. Humans were programmed to flinch at the thought of harming children, and in that split-second of hesitation, she could seize the initiative and spin it on her finger.

The club, standing silent, saw the shapes of perhaps half a dozen men in dull uniforms, led by Takano-san and a man with his hair tied back in a short ponytail. Mion's mind zipped into overdrive as she saw them; all the other men had baseball caps pulled low over their faces, but this one had a wire headpiece, so he'd been the centerpoint of at least one coordinating effort. The fact that these slight changes in uniform singled him out, and that he was at the head of the rough phalanx, suggested he was of some importance.

He spotted them quickly, not that the club was making any effort to hide as they stood boldly in front of the shack. He stopped dead, and his people followed.

"Hehehe… friends of R, right?" the man asked, a bitter grin stretching his features. "We meet at last…"

"There she is!" Takano-san gasped, her eyes fixed on Rika. "It's R! Okonogi, seize her!"

Mion tabbed them calling Rika by a stupid codename when she stood right there in front of them as yet another thing somebody was going to get clobbered for.

To her surprise, though, rather than rushing forward, the man –Okonogi– snapped his arm out, halting his men and preventing Takano-san from rushing forward.

"Wh-what do you think you're doing?" she gasped, scandalized, but he ignored her, taking a half-step forward so that he stood out from his crew.

"I am Phoenix 1 of the Wild Dogs, Okonogi," he said with clipped formality.

Mion's eyes narrowed a fraction. All the other names on the radio had been Skylark and Nightingale and numbers ranging much higher than that –was this guy in charge in charge?

"You fought admirably today. I wish to express my respect to your leader," he continued, his posture rigid. "…please tell me his name."

Mion felt the mantle of authority settling onto her shoulders with physical, tangible weight, and she stepped forward. One pace, two, and a shorter third step, until she stood clear over the others. Her chin was held high, her eyes crystal-clear, her back straight, the epitome of all of Batcha's training.

"Club President, Mion Sonozaki," she answered, matching his formality and raising it.

He blinked, visibly taken aback. Mion's posture did not change, holding herself to the highest standard of the Sonozaki family's trained authority.

"Were you behind all thus?" he asked after a stunned moment. "The ruckus at Okinomiya Precinct this morning? The battle on the mountain?"

Mion did not blink, or speak, or move, impassive and serene as a marble statue.

That was answer enough for him –definitely the head commander of the other side, he knew when a diplomatic silence meant yes– and he lowered his head, incredulity mixing with resignation as he started to laugh.

"…heh-heh-ha… you got me," he chuckled. "You really got me."

He pulled his head up.

"Tomitake's probably made it to Okinomiya and contacted Tokyo by now," he said. "It's only a matter of time before the Banken come to put us down."

"I told you to capture R!" Takano shrieked, heedless, as he reached up to his headset. "They're just kids! And we're armed!

She started as he tossed his headset down to the grass.

"Okonogi…?"

"You win this war," he admitted, meeting Mion's stare evenly. "Her Highness there is the only one who doesn't realize we've lost."

Mion's eyes moved fractionally to the men at either side and behind the other two leaders. They, too, looked resigned.

If you were used to leadership and all the intricate chess moves that came with politics and power, it wasn't hard to tell why. The whole point of the enemy's plot was to go off-book before anyone caught on; now that Tomitake-san had uncovered them to the other factions in their stupid little secret organization, it was game over.

Sure, they could shoot Mion and the others, grab Rika, but for what? They were already busted. Faction A had lost to Faction B, and anything after the fact would be petulant death-struggles.

Whoever had been pushing Takano-san to kill Rika and enact the curse was already massively exposed, having been caught in the middle of overreaching themselves. Any further actions would only deepen their grave, and if there was one thing those scuttling political types hated, it was being overexposed.

Okonogi-san knew this. His men knew it. They could make it out of this almost unscathed if they bowed and scraped and oh-so-very-sorry'd, I-didn't-know-this-was-off-book, because at the end of the day politicians liked being able to use people that could get their hands dirty so that they could come away clean. That was probably why this group existed in the first place.

You tried, you failed, but the one thing most important to the savvy little sneaks who crept about manipulating power was that you didn't leave evidence. The person that had hired these losers was going to be scrambling to cover their tracks at this point, and if the person they'd been caught plotting to kill showed up dead, it would be one hell of a big, black, muddy track to cover.

No, her current opponent knew that the smartest thing for him and his men to do at this point was to cut their losses and back off. Smile, bow, accept their penalties, then walk away clean, because no schemer was interested in making them talk when that could uncover so many… inconvenient little historical tidbits.

But he was still standing before her, despite knowing that it was done and time to clean up.

"…what do you want?" Mion asked quietly.

"Heh," he scoffed quietly, and her chin came up as she watched him draw a foot back and raise his arms, settling into a combat stance. His gaze darkened, his voice going cold. "You're a general. I'm a general. You know what that means."

"M-Mion-san!" Satoko sputtered behind her as they all read his intent. "You can't fight him one-on-one! It's too dangerous! We should all-"

"Wait, Satoko," Keiichi said quietly. "He's… not surrendering?"

"He was leading the troops today and watched as all his men were taken out," Rena murmured in reply. "He can't just concede."

"So as the leader of the defeated army, the only way to wash away his sins is to sacrifice himself?" Hanyuu asked, and there was a strange, deep sorrow in her voice.

Mion heard them as if from miles away, her eyes locked on Okonogi-san. They were all right about one thing, though; in the old days, this was the kind of confrontation that would end in seppuku.

Mion had led her forces. Okonogi-san had led his forces. Their forces had clashed, and due to his choices, hers had triumphed. She had shamed him, humiliated him as a leader. He had brought his men into a fruitless battle, into defeat. What pretty words could fix that? What platitudes could change that one simple fact that he had failed?

"All right," she said aloud, and shifted her stance. "Do whatever makes you feel better."

"Thanks…" he said, and she tensed, like hearing the crack of a starting pistol, as he started to run towards her. "Here I come."

He was larger than her, more aggressive, faster. Mion couldn't afford to get grappled or caught up in his strikes, and so she moved with and around them, until she saw an opening, snagged his arm, and twisting him off balance, used his momentum to throw him back in a skidding fall several feet away.

A murmur of awe rippled among her friends, but the other side was less circumspect.

"Okonogi!" Takano-san shouted furiously as he stumbled to his feet. "What are you doing?! Take them! NOW!"

"QUIET!" he roared back, briefly turning to glare at her. "You just shut up and watch! This is a battle between generals!"

She flinched at his sudden snap in volume, and Mion stood ready as he turned back to her, chuckling and rotating his arm.

"Not bad. You managed to flip me," he told her. "You're not using striking techniques, so I'm guessin' you come from a pretty refined school."

So he'd been reading her at the same time she was reading him –and he knew enough martial arts to peg her family's style quickly. That wasn't good.

"By the way, once you've gotten 'im by the arm, you can hit your opponent with a knee to the face," he added, smirking.

"Oh, really?" Mion replied, keeping her face impassive, but letting the concentration show. "I'll have to try that next time."

He surged for again, and he was moving faster, now. He'd figured out her rhythm, and it was harder to dodge than before.

But there was a reason Mion hadn't started with her best.

She upped own ante, moved with more speed and less grace, and then took his advice when she next seized his arm and twisted it back, ramming her knee into the side of his face with a crunch of delicate cartilage and bone.

He flew back, landing on his side. There was a distant, growling rumble of thunder from overhead.

"Heh… you're a fast learner," Okonogi-san muttered as he climbed to his feet again. "Strategy, tactics, and combat skills. You're a triple threat. You should be leading a pack of mutts like the Wild Dogs…!"

"Hah! No thanks," Mion scoffed. "I don't want to lead some sorry little secret force."

He laughed roughly at that, the two of them beginning to circle each other.

"True, a girl like you would be wasted on a Japanese unconventional warfare team," he said, wiping the dirt off his cheek with the back of his wrist. "You could rise to the top of the S.A.S., or Delta, or Spetsnaz."

Mion burst out laughing. She couldn't help it.

"The S.A.S.? The Delta Force?" she choked. "Those boring, old organizations could never tame me!"

"Wh-what!?" he sputtered, coming to a halt.

Mion shook her head, almost tsking at him. Geez, Takano-san's pride had driven her headfirst into the club's traps, but this guy wasn't much better.

"I'm not interested in commanding an army," she told him. "I'm just happy leading my own little section."

"Section, huh? I see…" he murmured. "So you want to be in British Intel? That sounds about right."

"What?" Mion laughed again. "Oh no, no. You really don't get it."

"Then where do you want to work?!" he burst out, sweeping one arm out wildly. He was almost frantic in this moment. "What kind of section would someone of your caliber want to lead!?"

And there it was. That's how she'd got him, again and again. In his mind, only the people that pushed to the top could lead. Only the strongest, only the best. Only those with greatest talents and choiciest luck.

He led his men out of pride; pride that he was the best, that he could do it, that he could accomplish whatever he set his mind to.

Mion knew better.

"There's only one group I wanna be in charge of!" she told him, grinning fiercely. "And that's our club at Hinamizawa school!"

"Wha… what…?"

"I hate battles with no penalty game at the end," Mion told him, gesturing at the others flippantly. "Besides, my club is made up of the very elite –no one can beat them!"

She led the Hinamizawa Club because she knew that her people were the best, and she knew where to put them to make their strengths shine. She had faith in them, and they had faith in her. It wasn't a matter of pride, of who was best and who could prove it. It was a matter of trust, and of fun.

Mion held herself high as she looked upon her enemy.

"Compared to a team of elites like these, anything else in the world would be totally boring!"

#Higurashi Month #Higurashi Month 2024 #Higurashi no Naku Koro ni #Higurashi When They Cry #When They Cry

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catsvrsdogscatswin · 6 months ago

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Higurashi Month 2024, Day 22: Agitation

Higurashi Month prompts archive: AO3

Amongst his many duties as Hinamizawa's sole qualified medical doctor –the small hospital was all the way in Okinomiya– Irie had the more secret duty to constantly assess all his surrounding citizens for any signs of awakening Hinamizawa Syndrome.

Of course, it wasn't like he could barge into their homes or demand weekly –even monthly– checkups, because aside from being invasive, that would also compromise operational security in a rather drastic fashion.

No, he had to settle for making sure every staff member in the clinic responsibly monitored themselves and took their suppressants, and then monitored the people around them. The nurses looked after their friends in knitting circles or hobby clubs, the Wild Dogs kept an eye on the various labor companies, and he, of course, watched over the children at the branch school and the families involved with the baseball team.

In a large city, even that informal system would be doomed to failure, but it worked in Hinamizawa. Everyone knew everyone, and chatter was rife; if Tomura was feeling low or the Kobayashi family were squabbling again, people knew. By keeping every finger on the pulse of the local gossip's web, Irie and his staff were able to track with a fair amount of accuracy any upsets or ripples in people's lives.

And then, of course, they could take steps.

They mostly didn't need to, of course; years of exhaustive and sometimes not-entirely-legal research had compiled vast profiles on just about every citizen in Hinamizawa, discussing their HS index, any fluctuations it might have, and any potential triggers for heightening levels.

It wasn't as invasive as it sounded, he often reassured himself. Merely who was related to whom and what various emotional ties might trigger a lapse into L4 or even L5. Nothing that could be used for any real blackmail or invoke any privacy laws.

And of course, all of this persistent interest in other peoples' lives was interpreted as the villagers saw fit, and Irie often found himself bashfully invited to various council meetings as a figure of some authority. His was the lowest seat and the furthest from the center, where Oryou Sonozaki held court, but he was invited, and more than that, expected to attend.

He'd been invited as formality before, given his level of education and his responsibility as head of the clinic, but his presence at meetings had been largely tolerated instead of expected –an outsider whom good manners dictated it would be impossible to ignore, but nonetheless was neither needed nor wanted.

But since he could hardly express his concerns by saying Have you been feeling any murderous urges recently? Rising sense of paranoia? Formication? to various village members, Irie instead masked his probing by frequently asking about the villagers' personal lives, offering a kindly shoulder and a helping hand whenever he could.

It was silly sometimes, like when he offered to clear the weeds out from a granny's garden or bent all his medical knowledge to finding a lost cat, but it did, in fact, work. People told him how they were getting on and often struck up conversations where he'd left off, talking about their lives and joys and hopes and fears.

Maybe a lost pet or an old couple worrying about yardwork weren't threatening –not the way a death in the family was– but they were still stressors, and as Irie knew to his pain, what affected a person's mind could not yet be fully understood. What if the cat had been a present from a dear loved one, now gone? What if the dread of dealing with a garden swamped with thick and tough weeds was the last straw that broke the camel's back?

So, he helped the people in Hinamizawa. Persistently and perennially, he helped. This garnered him a reputation as a reliable member of the community –not a local, never quite that, but our doctor for our village, the coach for our team; ours, ours, ours. A village fixture to be proud of. He wasn't just tolerated, he was liked.

It was a novel sensation, to be so… important. He'd been the bright star of the community that proposed brain surgery via lobotomy, but that was different. That had been strangers hearing of his skill and praising him for it. Hinamizawa was more… personal.

Everyone knew him. Whether he was shopping or merely enjoying a stroll, he always gleaned a nod or a smile from the people he passed, and to his increasing surprise –as the years wore on– he found that he recognized the people nodding to him, knew their lives with a startling degree of depth.

It wasn't just some old woman smiling cheerfully and scattering bread crumbs for birds when he passed her park bench –it was Inoue-san, her son and his wife took the path over the mountains on their drive to work, both were rice farmers, she worried about them sometimes, she had geraniums on the path to her door and liked sticky tofu-

It wasn't just some clerk –it was Suzuki-san, they'd talked over drinks after a village meeting one time, both of them had liked the same show when they were kids, his business had been doing good-not-so-good-excellent lately ever since the new configuration, he had a younger cousin on Irie's baseball team and was in charge of setting up a lot of the fairground aspect of the festival-

He knew these people, and to his surprise in later years, could automatically attach not only a name and face but a story to almost everyone he passed in the street, just because he'd listened to them, just because he'd paid attention, just because he'd lent a helping hand here and there. 2,000 people, and he knew them all.

It was… humbling.

But Irie still had a duty to them all, and he kept his ear to the ground and a smile on his face, always on the lookout for the first ripples that might signal an alarm.

#Higurashi Month #Higurashi Month 2024 #Higurashi no Naku Koro ni #Higurashi When They Cry #When They Cry

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