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 14th, 2019
Being the heir to the vast Sonozaki estate is a very serious, sometimes fun, sometimes boring, sometimes scary occupation. For the meetings, it was usually a mixture of boredom and seriousness. Some things were fun, like learning how to boss people around, or all the treats she got. It sometimes got scary though, like when Batcha made her learn some of the Very Serious Aspects of being the Sonozaki head.
As Batcha led her by the hand to a very large, very ominous-looking door bolted right into the mountain near the main house, Mion was pretty sure that this would be one of the scarier times.
Batcha grabs the key from her kimono and unlocks the door swiftly, but she relies on the two men in dark suits to pull it shut again, and from the heavy clang, Mion figures it must be pretty heavy.
She looks up at her grandma through disarrayed green bangs.
"What is this place, Batcha?"
Her grandmother doesn't answer directly, instead shuffling over to turn on the lights. "Have you ever been inside the Furude Saiguden, child?"
"Of course not!" Mion is scandalized. That place is sacred to Oyashiro-sama, a holy building that houses all his ritual tools and implements. Only the Furudes can go in there, because others, even Sonozakis, would be defiling that sacred ground with their mere presence. The very idea that she would go in there…!
"Good, good." Batcha's murmurs in her creaky old voice, sounding approving. Mion relaxes just a little. "Those tools were for more than just show, you know. Torture tools. Tools to keep stupid rule-breakers from disobeying Oyashiro-sama's laws."
Batcha moves over to a wooden door, and remembering her duties, Mion quickly scrambles over to serve as a walking aid. She ignores the queasy feeling in her gut as Batcha pushes open the next doors, descending down a set of wooden steps almost as creaky as she is.
Mion is so busy helping her grandma down that she doesn't look up at all until they've reached the bottom, and then her cry of fear echoes around the small chamber as the young heir takes a hasty step back, eyes widening.
There are torture tools everywhere. And there's an open space, and a bank of ledges, with cushions for people…for watching.
The queasy feeling moved up to her throat.
"Don't be a coward, girl." Mion squeaks as Batcha flicks her on the ear. "These can't do nothing to you. They're for using on others. Others that break the Sonozaki rules. When you take my place, you'll make use of this room as the family head, I can bet you that."
Mion gulps down the sick feeling in her throat, following tremulously as Batcha leads her onward. She pauses a moment to get two flashlights, handing one to Mion and keeping the other for herself as they hobble out through an opening in the room, to someplace that is dark and vaguely reflective in a way Mion recognized as rock walls.
It's a cave.
A big cave, like a hollowed-out beehive, with dark pockets honeycombing the walls, everything made of a reddish-brown rock. Their shoes clack against the ground as they move, and Mion's flashlight picks out a slope on the side of the cave, tracing it upwards to see that it winds around the walls, going upwards, with the black pockets, the holes in the rock, resting squarely atop it.
Mion briefly freezes, mid-step, as her flashlight glints off the edge of man-made steel. There are metal bars strung vertically across the pockets.
Batcha, however, tugs the heir along by the arm Mion has lifted up to help support her, ignoring her small whimper of distress.
"And these are the places where we keep unwelcome guests who might want to stay a while, eh?" Batcha murmurs with bitter humor, coughing raggedly. Mion's small legs pump as she strives to keep up, the old woman setting a brisk pace.
"Do we…actually use these cells, Batcha?" she asks timidly, and her grandma laughs.
"Of course we do, girl. Not often, but often enough. Sonozakis don't make a thing unless they plan to use it."
Mion gulps again.
Batcha drags are to a cell, apparently specific cell, and directs Mion's attention to the rock outside it. Mion leans forward into the glow of the flashlight, and sees a faint line of characters scratched into the rock, hidden in a crevice so one would have to be looking hard to find them.
"Scurry, mouse, into your house. Lift the lid, be glad you did." she reads aloud, uncertainly, and Batcha gives a dry, crackling little laugh, patting her on the shoulder.
"Aye, girl. That's how we find this cell in particular. It's the special one. Can you tell me why?"
Mion does not want to guess why, because she has an uncomfortable feeling that it will involve more scary things. But when Batcha asks a question, that question had to be answered.
She swung her flashlight around, frowning a little. "It's the same size as the others…and it looks the same…and it's empty…so it's a hiding place?" she thinks aloud, and Batcha pats her shoulder again.
"Close, girl, close. Let's open up this door and go inside."
In truth, that is the very last thing Mion wants to do, but Batcha has commanded her, so she goes over and stands up on her tiptoes, trembling fingers just barely managing to flip the simple bolt. She tucks her flashlight into her shirt and pulls open the gate with both hands, Batcha's right hand still clasped on her shoulder. Nervously, she led the old woman inside, wondering for a wild, frightening second if she had displeased her in some way and this was her punishment, to be locked inside forever and ever and ever until Batcha decided she was forgiven.
But that doesn't seem to be it, and Batcha directs her flashlight beam most carefully on the ground in front of them both as they shuffle and walk slowly forward. It shows only the same brownish, rust-colored rock inside that gleaming golden circle of delicate light, scrolling forwards as they move.
Then Mion's heart leaps up into her mouth as the edges of that delicate circle suddenly fall away into utter blackness, and Batcha stops her short, hand tugging firmly on her shoulder.
"Here we are." she pronounces in dry, crackly satisfaction. "The old well. We throw away things we no longer have use for here. Trash. Don't want any maggots, you see?"
Batcha's arm quavers as she extends it out over the wide hole in the ground. Mion's gasp echoes, hollow and faint and soft, around the stone as her grandma drops it, the flashlight pinwheeling like a trapped butterfly as its warm cone of light sank down, down, down, until not even a glimmer was left. Mion is almost sure she can hear the tiny, crisp crunch as the casing splits and spills out the batteries, plastic face shattering as the lightbulb cracks.
"Aye, it's deep, girl, very deep. If there's anyone who ever displeases you…anything you wouldn't want the police to find, well…if they ever search, they'd never get this far. Do you understand me, girl?
Batcha's hand is like a gnarled claw, digging deep into her fragile shoulder. The pit before her yawns wide, deep, and dark, Mion's heart fluttering like the wild, wheeling dance of the yellow flashlight's beam as it plummeted downwards.
"Yes!" she blurted, wanting to take a step away, but terrified that she will overbalance both herself and the heavy weight of Batcha resting on her shoulder and tumble down, down…
"Aim your light over there, girl."
Mion gulps as she follows the slightly quivering line of Batcha's other hand, her finger pointing deep down into the hole, and to the side. Batcha's other hand unclasps from her shoulder, and the young heir took a slow, cautious step forward, heart pounding wildly as she teetered near that awful ledge and its gaping hole. She aimed her flashlight down, small hands shaking and damp with sweat, so that she fears that she'll drop it with every moment.
"Further down, girl, curse it!"
With a hasty gulp, Mion redirects her light. She blinks in surprise as she sees another hole dug out into the side of this own, and childish curiosity briefly rearing its head, takes a step to the side, watching the harsh blackness of the shadows cast by her warm yellow light shift sideways, revealing with more steps, as she forgot her fear, that it was not only a hole, but a tunnel, gouged out of the rock, with shallow grooves cut into the stone leading up to the rim where she and Batcha stood, iron bars bolted into the rock to provide handholds alongside them.
"An escape tunnel?" she guesses aloud, looking to Batcha. The old woman's eyes seem to warm infinestibly with approval, though whether it is at her guess or Mion's obvious display of curiosity, the young heir does not know.
"That it is, girl. Leads out into the mountains, into an old dry well. Good for an emergency escape, although, praise Oyashiro-sama, it has never been needed by any member of our house."
She shook her gnarled finger at Mion.
"Remember this place, child! You'll have the use of it someday, so you should know how to best wield your tools!"
"Yes, Batcha." Mion agreed promptly.
Batcha shows her more that day, but it is the tunnel she most especially remembers, now, as she and Kei-chan and Rena and Satoko and Kei-chan's parents all move swiftly through the abandoned cave, weapons and flashlights at the ready. Both she and Rena have been shot, each of them with an arm that's useless, so climbing down into that hole, with those shallow steps, is going to be an interesting exercise.
Batcha was right, she thinks with a grin as she points them to the right cell, recognizing the familiar subtle patterns of the rock wall outside it.
Scurry, mouse, into your house.
Lift the lid, be glad you did.
She is going to use that tunnel, someday, and that day is now.
AN: The poem is taken from the Deltora series, btw. I claim no credit for it. Also, Outbreak keeps lurking in the fringes of my brain. Too many fanfic opportunities, I say, even if the OVA itself wasn't all that great compared to the rest of the series. Even before I was aware of it I still firmly bet the Hinamizawa Club against Any Apocalyptic Event Ever, and here Outbreak just had to go and barely fulfill my angst-and-whump-ridden fantasies with abysmally subpar (and sometimes just plain weird) writing, because Shion whom? Satoshi existing? Come now, of course including those two in an OVA that's focused on the outbreak of severe Hinamizawa Syndrome at all, ever, even in mention, would be absolutely ridiculous. They obviously don't connect with that theme or storyline at all.
I'm salty and it's begging for a novelized rewrite is all I'm saying.
8.26 AM, USA Central Time