#hnnkn

I finished reading the Higurashi visual novel a few months ago after spending 12 years exploring this story in its various forms. Yippee!

I first discovered Higurashi on July 25th, 2013. I was working on this specific drawing while listening to a "sad anime music" playlist because I was sad lol my caption is lying to you.

But "Dear You" came up on the playlist with an image of Rika and Hanyuu, and immediately I was so captivated by how nostalgic, comforting, haunting, and peaceful the song was. I probably played it 5 times over before I looked up what it was from, and after learning that Higurashi was partly a horror, I dove right in.

During my first watch of the anime, I was entirely there for the blood and guts. I kind of didn't care as much about the slice of life or the "pivot" to the drama in the latter half of the series. Still though, I loved it all dearly, and when I heard about Higurashi's """"""remake""""" in 2020, I decided to give the original anime a rewatch.

It was then that I got recommended Bess's videos on the story, and in tandem with reading the manga for the first time, my entire perspective forcefully shifted. As an edgy 15 year old, I had been missing so much of what truly made Higurashi great. But at 22 in a difficult and confusing time in my life, it was such a radically necessary piece of art to rediscover, and quickly became one of my favorites.

I actually started reading the visual novel all the way back then, but it was so dense and lengthy compared to the pacing of the story I was used to that it took me another 5 years to finally finish reading it all. But man, am I glad I did.

This story is about so so so so so many things. It's an introspection on war, tradition, religion, generational divides, child abuse, forgiveness, shame, community, healing, grief. It's about the worst things we can do to each other and how to move forward afterwards. It's about the impossible decision to love when it's so much easier to fear. And although its setting is so specifically tied to the culture of Japan in the generation following World War II, its messages and observations were just as relevant in the early 2000s when Ryukishi wrote it, and even more relevant another 20 years later.

This is a series that to me will last forever. I'll be thinking about it for the rest of my life, constantly returning to it to see what new insights it has to offer. It challenged me, made me sick to my stomach, sent me into spirals of grief, made me roll my eyes, and irrevocably changed me for the better. Though it's certainly not without its flaws, Higurashi is and likely always will be one of my favorite pieces of art.

I'm currently showing the anime to two of my friends, pausing frequently to tell them about all the little details that enrich this story that were lost in translation. Though they're certainly not as enraptured as I am, being able to share something I love so dearly with people I adore is a wonderful new way to experience the series. Truly the Child Murder Anime is the gift that keeps on giving.

As I was finishing up the visual novel, I knew I wanted to draw something for the occasion, and of course the last scene stuck with me as the subject. It was initially a bit odd to see the story wrapped up through Hanyuu's perspective as we've largely followed Rika through the latter half, but ultimately, this moment is both the culmination of Hanyuu's arc and one of the most important themes.

The story can't truly end until Hanyuu forgives herself. I'll avoid doing a whole character analysis here, but I think she's such a fascinating and understated part of the cast. While every other character fights tooth and nail for their place in the world, Hanyuu has so many ingrained reasons for believing that she doesn't deserve to live. And the true miracle of the story is that after 1000 years of wallowing in all the ways her presence has made things worse, she's told it doesn't matter. She still has a place here, she's still wanted.

Notes:

This fic is a bit random tbh, it came from me thinking about how it’s wild that despite the fact Rika/Satoko is one of my favorite ships I’ve only written (1) story for them, and it was now… almost 6 years ago lmao. So I wanted to write something cute and fluffy about them and that’s how it ended up. The fact this came out during June was completely accidental; I wanted to finish it last month, actually, but hey! Happy Watanagashi and Pride month, I guess!

And happy birthday as well, Satoko!

They’re adults here though I haven’t decided a proper age exactly, so it can be anywhere from ~18-25, you choose lol. Obviously this takes place somewhere post-canon, but I don’t have any specific continuity in mind.

Content Warnings: Brief mentions of past child abuse and of child sexualization/grooming because of Satoko’s childhood, as well as child death because of Rika, but nothing explicit.

* * *

In retrospect, Satoko really should have seen that one coming.

The sky had been gray and peppered with big, heavy clouds when she first stepped outside — but she had thought, naively, that it wouldn’t rain until tonight so she would be safe.

Well, she’d been wrong.

She was in the forest testing out her newer traps; quite a few convoluted ones she was rather proud of and was quite excited to try out on Keiichi and Nii-nii. Occasionally she’d get some comments, with fondness from her friends and with annoyance from other villagers, about how she was too old to still pull this type of mischievous pranks — but Satoko never paid them any mind. Traps were too much fun to ever grow out of them; they were the best use of her intelligence, and they could, in fact, very much be more than useful. They’d helped them win against Takano and the Yamainu, after all! Still one of the best achievements of her life, to this day.

So yes, Satoko might be an adult now, but that wouldn't stop her from pursuing her favorite pastime. Whenever she had a free moment, heading to the mountains to test her skills remained one of her first reflexes.

She’d been at this for hours today, and just as she was about to wrap it up, a droplet crashed onto her cheek. Annoyed, she looked up and saw that the sky was indeed much darker and more threatening than before. A storm might be brewing; but since it was still early, she’d have plenty of time to get home before the rain.

No sooner had the thought left her head than a thunder ripped through the sky, making her jump. A torrential downpour descended upon her; so violent and heavy that the raindrops, tearing at leaves and branches, lashed her to the bone.

Her body reacted on instinct before her mind could catch up and she started running as fast as possible. The rain was so powerful that even deep in the forest, the trees were unable to protect her from it. She ran and ran and ran, stretching her muscles to their limit until the effort made her ache — but with how strong the rain was, the soil beneath her quickly became flabby and slithery. Her feet slipped and she collapsed on the ground with all her weight, face first.

She cursed under her breath while struggling to get back on her feet, but every time she managed to push herself up onto her hands and knees, the mud and rain got the better of her and she slipped again. She had to lean against a tree before she could stand upright; and by then, she was already covered in sludge, leaves, and branches, all of it splattered over her blond hair and face, soiling shirt, shorts, and sneakers.

With that weather, it took her at least an hour to reach the edge of the forest, falling back to the ground several times along the way; and when she finally caught sight of Hinamizawa's traditional houses and the roof of the Furude Temple, she almost wept with relief.

Satoko was not a crybaby anymore, though — not as much, at least — so she held back her tears and, exhausted, wobbled toward the little shack she’d shared with Rika as a home for about a decade now.

She didn’t get to enter their house that a familiar silhouette was already waiting for her — Rika herself, standing in front of the door. Her hair, cut off short years ago, floated above her shoulders and the casual summer dress she'd worn almost every day these past weeks. Arms crossed, she was tapping her foot rhythmically with a fake pleasant expression on her face; which meant she was as worried as she was irritated by Satoko's lateness.

Satoko grinned at her, raising a hand, feeling the mud caked on her face pull at the corners of her mouth and cheeks. “Hey,” she said in a tired voice.

Rika stared at her from head to toe, and while her smiling-mask didn’t slip, Satoko knew she must be boiling inside.

“You look great,” she said coolly.

“Thanks.”

“You better remove all of that in the entrance because I am not cleaning the house if you dirty anything inside.”

“I’m the one who’s of cleaning duty this week, am I not?”

Rika didn’t reply, only turning her back to head inside. Satoko sighed but did just as she was told. She removed her shoes first, then her shirt and shorts; and when Rika came back with a basket in her arms, Satoko was standing in her underwear, feeling cold and a little silly.

“Put your dirty clothes in there, and leave the shoes on the side,” Rika instructed, setting the basket on the floor. “I’ve run the bath already, it should be hot in a couple of minutes.”

Satoko nodded, thanked her, and listened to her like an obedient child. After stuffing all of her clothes into the container, she noticed Rika was still staring at her with narrowed eyes.

“All of your dirty clothes,” she added, and Satoko gaped at her.

“You want me to get butt-naked in the entrance? I can undress completely in the bathroom—”

“Your underwear are also full of mud. I don’t want that inside the house.”

And the worst part was, she was right. Somehow the mud did manage to soak through her clothes and stain her bra and panties, albeit to a lesser degree as the rest.

“I’m the one who’ll clean up!” Satoko protested.

“Then you should thank me I’m trying to make your job easier. What’s the big deal, anyway? It’s only the two of us here, and I see you naked all the time.”

“Ugh, you can’t just say that,” Satoko grumbled, “now you’re just trying to embarrass me!”

Rika’s face stayed unflinchingly neutral, but Satoko knew her well enough — better than anyone in the world, really — to recognize the teasing glint in her purple eyes and that she was trying really hard not to laugh.

She might be a little pissed at the whole thing, but it was clear she was having way too much fun with the idea of bossing Satoko around, when it was usually the opposite.

Well, it wasn’t like she was wrong. The two of them had been best friends since they were toddlers, and they’d taken baths together countless times. And as they grew older, they’d then gotten even more opportunities to see each other naked as well. There was nothing about Satoko that Rika didn’t know, her body included.

Still, it was about the principle — she just didn’t enjoy the idea of stripping in the middle of the entrance... However she also knew Rika wouldn’t budge on her opinion — so, glaring at her, Satoko slowly removed her panties. Then she reached for her bra, but struggled to unhook it — the mud, exhaustion, and cold had numbed her hands, making the task more difficult, so Rika gestured at her to turn around. She felt her slender fingers flutter at her skin, butterfly-touches barely palpable, as she silently worked on the clips.

Rika’s hands were cold. They always were, for some reason. As if her body remembered all the deaths she had experienced and it was stuck to her very being, like a second skin, like a curse.

Satoko shivered and pushed the morbid thoughts aside as the mud-stained pink bra was removed, her breasts slopping down. Rika muttered “All done,” from behind her, her voice soft and fond.

It reminded Satoko of the first time she had tried on a bra, when she was nearly thirteen. She’d hated the idea of wearing one; it made her feel too constricted, like a rope wrapped around her chest preventing her from breathing, tying her down to the inevitability of adulthood — but her breasts had grown too much by then, and as a girl who moved around a lot, it simply was too inconvenient to leave them be. Rika had felt envious about it, which Satoko hadn't been able to wrap her mind around. To her, not having to wear such an oppressive cloth was a benediction. Only once she was much older did she realize it had been part of Rika’s almost obsessive yearning to be seen as a mature woman and not a little girl anymore.

So Nee-nee had taken her and Rika on a shopping trip, made Satoko try on and buy at least a dozen of different underwear, and Satoko had pouted the entire time with how much the idea pissed her off. She’d shed frustrated tears as she tried to unfasten the bra from behind her back and couldn’t manage it, so Rika had helped her out. It had been just like now; her fingers gentle as they danced over her shoulder blades, the way it made Satoko shiver and crave for something more she couldn’t quite understand then, the endeared look on Rika’s face that made her wonder what must be going on in her head.

Since then, Satoko had learned to remove bras without help; but occasionally, Rika would just pass behind her and do it instinctively, long entrenched habits taking over, just like whenever she brushed Satoko’s hair away from her face or wiped her mouth after a meal.

Soft lips suddenly pressed on the back of Satoko’s nape. She yelped and jumped around to stare at Rika with shocked, wide eyes.

“R-Rika? What the hell? I’m covered in mud!”

Rika smiled, a touch mischievous. “I’m aware. C’mon, the bath must be hot now, mii!”

She turned around, short dark hair flowing behind her, and Satoko groaned in annoyance and followed. Walking in their home naked felt a little weird, and she couldn’t help but quicken her pace slightly once she reached a window, even though there was no way anyone could see her from here. Just like Rika had said, their old-fashioned wooden bath was already steaming; the whole room warm and filled with vapor, and Rika kneeled to gauge the water temperature.

Before Satoko could get in, however, Rika picked up the shower head — the one Satoko had fabricated herself a few years ago by using recycled pieces — and turned it on full blast. The water jet shot out with such force that it almost hurt Satoko when it hit her.

“Rika!” she yelped. “Couldn’t you have warned me?”

“What else do you think I was gonna do in the bathroom? You’re not getting into the tub like that.”

“It’s hot!”

“It’s tempered.”

Satoko let out a frustrated sigh but couldn’t argue as Rika aimed the water on her face, splashing away her hair along with the mud. Of course Rika was right, she couldn’t just jump into the bath in that state or it would just dirty the water and render the whole thing pointless. But still, Rika’s behavior was always so exasperating.

She felt like a kid again; nostalgia filling her mind as she reminisced the times she played outside all day during summer and ended up grimy from head to toe, so Nii-nii would clean her up by using a garden hose.

As soon as Rika finished aiming at her legs and chest and waist, she turned the jet off; then grabbed Satoko to help her step inside the basin, her legs feeling a little shaky with the strain of fatigue. She sank her full weight into the hot water, plunging up to her neck, her head resting on the edge. The bath wasn’t big enough for her to completely spread out her legs, but having to bend her knees didn’t bother her.

She closed her eyes; and for a few seconds, her mind blanked. The hot water engulfed her body, engrossed her whole being, the steam making her feel like she had just entered a dream. Instantly relaxed, she let her back hit the rim of the tub. She felt at ease; her muscles loose and skin flabby and hair soggy.

She could almost fall asleep, this way; the exhaustion of the day and of her mad run through the forest downing on her. She could still hear the rain outside, some flicker of thunders, but it seemed so far away now, unreachable in the safety of her home.

Satoko didn’t really like baths usually. She wasn’t sure why. Some fragmented memories, that might come from somewhere or nowhere at all, flashed through her mind whenever she dipped her toes into a bathtub — a large man towering over her and a gruff voice ordering her to stay into scalding water until she counted up to an unreasonable high number; her skin peeling off and her lungs suffocating and numbness spreading through each of her limbs.

It made her feel uncomfortable, so she generally took showers instead. It was quicker, anyway; Satoko always preferred practicality, and she didn’t entirely see the point to spend hours and hours in the bathroom like Rika or Nee-nee seemed to reveal in.

But at that precise moment, she wasn’t uncomfortable. Not when she felt, with extreme gentleness, hands in her short hair; fingers gliding through her damp blond strands, massaging her scalp back and forth, slowly and intensely. She mustered her strength to open her eyes and saw Rika, kneeled in front of the bathtub, her hair tied back in a short ponytail and her sleeves rolled up, soaping her head with such a focused expression, as if it was the most thing important she’d ever done in her life.

“Rika...?”

“Shh,” Rika said in a soft, tender voice that melted Satoko’s heart. “I’m taking care of everything; so just relax.”

Satoko was too tired to protest, so she closed her eyes again as Rika kept stroking her head. She felt a bit like an animal, or a little child. The thought would have annoyed her, usually — she’d tried so hard to become independent after Nii-nii’s disappearance that it would be insulting to regress like that. But in that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care. The water was warm, Rika’s fingers were soothing, and her chest was full and loving and nothing in the world was wrong.

After a little while, Satoko felt Rika change her target; she went from her hair to to her neck, shoulders, clavicles, breasts. She lingered on her back, her hands expertly and softly rubbing the skin, her thumb putting a little more pressure on the shoulder blades.

She was very gentle. She always was, whenever she touched Satoko. Her fingertips felt like fleeting kisses; lingering on her skin like a bee on a flower, a cat's whiskers brushing against ankles, never remaining long enough to be invasive.

Satoko had never really liked being touched. Perhaps she did a long, long time ago, when she was so little she barely had any memories of it. She was fine with Nii-nii hugging her or Keiichi patting her head or Nee-nee kissing her cheek; but a stranger grabbing her arm made her stiffen; a handshake evoked nauseous feelings inside her stomach. Even being stared at for too long gave her the urge to flee.

She often felt like a frustrating, walking contradiction; she yearned for affection and physical warmth, but her body systematically rejected the slightest contact, her mind turning chary at the merest touch, blaring alerts from every pore; waiting for something, pain or harm or uneasiness, to befall her.

She hated the way her whole self seemed to have been rewired entirely to expect heavy blows to fall on her; to have vile eyes ogling at her body, at her breasts and waist and thighs, measuring which part of it could be useful to them one day, what pleasure they could derive from it, without Satoko getting to say a word about it.

In other people’s eyes and hands, Satoko hadn’t been a girl for a long time; she’d been a doll, to abuse and play with and mold to their whims — a child turned into a toy for an adult’s desire before she was even old enough to understand what it meant.

Even now, even fully grown and years and years after, the instincts and feelings persisted, no matter how hard she tried to fight it.

She’d never really told any of this to anyone — not exactly, not in words — but Rika seemed to understand nonetheless. She’d understood even when they were children. Satoko remembered being ten, being scarcely alive after her brother’s disappearance, spending the first night here with Rika. She was no more than a doll, then; as if she had resigned herself to becoming what all the adults around her had tried to make of her. Rika had grabbed her hand and undressed her and washed her into the tub just like this; had massaged her scalp and scrubbed her skin and washed her without a single sound, a single complaint, before carrying her to bed with the utmost tenderness.

Satoko had barely been present at that time, but afterwards it had become one of her warmest, most cherished memories.

Rika kept doing it; whenever she had to touch Satoko, whenever she helped her undress or washed her or made love to her, Rika always handled her the same.

Hot water slammed into Satoko's body from the shower head, washing away the soap residue, the thick white lather and the bubbles, and she giggled a little when Rika splashed her. She’d throw some water back at her if she hadn't been so exhausted.

Just as she was completely rinsed Rika turn off the water, and suddenly it was as if Satoko was a marionette whose strings had been cut; she staggered while trying to stand up in the tub, and Rika caught her, wrapping her arm around her naked body and pulling her flush against her chest. Satoko didn’t even try to resist. She let her face bury itself in the crook of her neck as Rika embraced a towel around her, almost enveloping them both.

“Rough day, huh?” Rika murmured into her ear, her lips warm against her lobe. “Told you you shouldn’t have gone out.”

“As if you knew it was going to rain,” Satoko mumbled.

“I absolutely knew. I’m Oyashiro’s priestess, remember? I can predict these things. Do you need me to carry you like a princess?”

Satoko snorted, and thought this didn't even deserve an answer. Usually she might have retorted, You’re the one who loves being treated like a princess, not me, but this time she was just content to snuggle against Rika. Honestly, she wouldn’t even have said no to being carried — but she doubted Rika was strong enough for it. Rika laughed, a tinkling and bright sound, as she kept rubbing Satoko’s hair and back, before finally pulling her out of the bathtub.

Satoko practically let her do all the work. She let her dry her, wiping her entire body; she let her grab her pajamas, yellow and white and stripped, and put on every single sleeve and pant leg one by one.

Rika did not carry her, but she wrapped Satoko’s arm around her shoulder and helped her walk outside the bathroom, heading directly for their futon that Rika had already prepped beforehand. She insisted for them to eat something quick despite Satoko not being hungry — which ended up being dorayaki and senbei with sweet bean paste — before she was able to settle under the comfort of her blanket. Rika pulled the cover over her, and Satoko might have fallen asleep instantly here and there, if not for the fact Rika rose up again.

Her arm moved almost reflexively, grabbing a pan of her dress. “Where are you going?” she muttered, her words slurred. At this point she had to fight to stay awake.

“I still have university work to do...”

Satoko stared at her blankly. A shiver ran through her.

Right. It was summer now, but once the holidays were over, Rika would leave again. She was used to it by now — or at least, she should be. But tonight, the weight of that prospect overwhelmed her, filling her with a strange feeling.

“Stay,” Satoko said, almost begging.

She knew she was being unfair. Rika was very busy with school. She didn’t want to be selfish — had tried so hard to stop being that person, all those years ago when her brother disappeared.

But she didn’t want to be alone right now. She wanted Rika’s hands on her, in her hair and around her waist; she wanted to feel her warmth and her heartbeat against her ear, just like when they were children and slept together because one of them had a nightmare.

Rika stared at her. She didn’t say anything, but as usual Rika didn’t need words.

“Well, I can take care of that tomorrow,” she concluded, before lying down and settling under the blanket in the futon, at Satoko’s side where she belonged.

Satoko wrapped herself around Rika right away, her arms embracing her waist and her head resting on her chest where she could hear her heart, beating and alive and still, forever defiant of fate.

“However,” Rika said softly, hand caressing her hair, “I have one condition.”

“Hm.”

“When I tell you not to go outside, you listen to me. Or else it’s the last time I’m taking care of you like this.”

Satoko didn’t answer, sleep already claiming her; but she thought there was no way Rika meant that.

She would absolutely end up doing it again, because she knew she loved taking care of Satoko almost as much as Satoko loved taking care of her.

* * *

Notes:

I know there used to be (maybe still is?) some debates within the fandom about whether or not Satoko was sexually abused by her uncle. Personally, I don’t believe she was — Ryukishi usually tend to stay away from sexual violence in his works, and if he wanted this to be part of Satoko’s trauma I think he would’ve made it explicitly clear. However, I do understand where it comes from because there IS some subtext about it — most notably, Teppei literally talking about grooming her in the VN, and the guy is a creep in general who keeps letting Satoko be around other creepy men, so I don’t think the idea is completely misplaced either (one of the many reasons why Irie irritates me but that’s for another topic). I’m saying all of this because while I don’t think Satoko was sexually abused, the fact she still spent a lot of time during her formative years around a man who at least on some level sexualized her (see, the grooming talk) must have definitely impacted how she sees herself and her body and sexuality especially as she grows up — and so that’s how I write her. Sorry, this is a bit of a heavy topic to bring up in what is a relatively lighthearted story, but I thought this might be relevant to clarify some of the paragraphs I wrote here lol