Whoo, back again! Higurashi Month 2019, because it has become one of my lowkey life goals to keep perpetuating this until it becomes a proper tradition for all three-and-a-half people in this graveyard of a fandom. And then keep doing it anyways, because tradition. If you wish to check out the prompt list, its on my tumblr page under the same username.
June 6th, 2019
Rika wonders, sometimes, very late at night, when she is very drunk, what she would do if she were allowed to grow up. Hinamizawa is a small, remote village, and she is the only remaining Furude left –one would think she would just be the resident shrine maiden, and content with that.
And, perhaps, Rika would have, once upon a time long ago when she had only one lifetime to live. But she has gone on for far, far too long, danced the ritual dances and swept the Saiguden and done all the other holy things far more than even her longest-lived counterparts. Rika knew more about Oyashiro-sama, had read more texts, had immersed herself more in the religious history, than any previous miko or priest in the entire history of Hinamizawa and Onigafuchi combined.
She had simply lived too long.
In the hundreds of years' worth of rewinds, Rika had picked up lore, paged through the old texts, and just generally sifted through every scrap of knowledge her family and the shrine had, if only out of boredom, and sometimes in desperation. She could do the offering dances in her sleep, and once, she had even come to school drunk (Satoko was locked away with her cruel uncle, and Rika just couldn't stand the idea of coming to school like everything was normal, had to numb her pain while she waited for the inevitable) and had practiced her dance with the mallet as usual –flawlessly. It was just too simple, the steps so ingrained in the memory of her body and mind that it was literally like walking: too easy by a half.
Rika can't stand the idea of doing that for the rest of her life, if she will ever get one. She endures it now, for Hanyuu if nothing else, but the thought of walking through such rituals again and again for the rest of her life is choking, stifling.
But Hinamizawa is a small, remote village, and there is no other thing for her to do. She cannot leave, cannot selfishly pursue her own destiny in the cities, not just because of the fact that Hinamizawa is her home, but because Rika holds the Queen Carrier, the phenome that calms and soothes the madness lurking within her fellow villagers. If she leaves, she overturns a witch's cauldron behind her, a simmering, bubbling stew of madness that will leap out and ravage her beloved home –again.
Rika cannot let that happen.
Perhaps, she thinks as the kitchen swirls drunkenly around her, she will be a writer, and beloved by all of Japan for her tragic, heart-wrenching stories, a poet who weaves dreams and imaginations into one poignant whole, bringing tears to the eyes of any who read her works and stirring the very darkest depths of their hearts.
After all, she has plenty of experience with tragedy already.
AN: This is a very real question that has bugged me subconsciously for some time. Just what the hell does Rika plan to do when she actually grows up?!
11.02 AM, USA Central Time