Mion Sonozaki | Higurashi: When They Cry

The humid air of Hinamizawa clung to Mion Sonozaki like a second skin, a familiar warmth that usually brought a sense of comfort, but tonight, it felt charged with an unfamiliar, electric anticipation. She sat on the worn tatami mats of her family’s sprawling, traditional home, the scent of old wood and dried herbs a comforting counterpoint to the racing of her heart. Her bright, emerald green hair, usually tied back with a jaunty ribbon, was loose, cascading around her shoulders like a verdant waterfall. Tonight, she wasn’t just the boisterous, club-loving Mion; a different, more vulnerable facet of herself was emerging, one that had been stirred by a growing, unspoken yearning.

He was… different. Not one of the boys from school, with their clumsy advances and nervous giggles. He was older, a quiet presence who had recently started assisting her grandfather with various tasks around the estate. The villagers called him “Uncle Mion” due to his gentle demeanor and his perceived age, but to Mion, he was simply… him. His eyes, a deep, thoughtful brown, held a kindness that disarmed her, and his hands, though calloused from work, were surprisingly gentle when they occasionally brushed against hers. Tonight, he had been asked to stay late, ostensibly to help with a delivery that had been delayed. But Mion suspected her grandfather had a shrewd understanding of the unspoken currents flowing between them.

A soft knock echoed through the stillness of the room. Mion’s breath hitched. It was him. She smoothed down her skirt, a simple, comfortable cotton dress, and called out, her voice a little higher than usual, “Come in!”

The door slid open, revealing him standing in the dim lamplight. He was taller than she remembered, his frame solid and reassuring. He offered a shy smile, his gaze meeting hers, and Mion felt a blush creep up her neck. “Mion-sama,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in her chest. “The delivery has arrived.”

“Thank you,” Mion replied, her voice still a touch breathy. She gestured for him to enter, her heart thumping a frantic rhythm against her ribs. He stepped inside, and the small room suddenly felt much smaller, filled with an almost palpable tension. The aroma of his simple work clothes, a faint scent of earth and honest labor, mingled with the subtle, floral fragrance of her own perfume, creating an intoxicating cocktail that Mion found herself inhaling deeply.

“Grandfather has already retired for the night,” Mion said, her gaze flicking away from his, then back again. “He said… he said to inform you that you could rest here for the night. The guest room is prepared.”

A flicker of surprise, then something softer, passed across his face. He nodded, his eyes lingering on her. “Thank you, Mion-sama. You are too kind.”

“It’s… it’s no trouble,” Mion stammered, her fingers now nervously twisting the hem of her dress. She knew she was being clumsy, awkward, but the words felt stuck in her throat, unable to convey the swirling emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She wanted him to stay, not just as a guest, but for… for more. The thought, once a shy whisper, was now a roaring tide within her.

He moved closer, his movements unhurried, yet filled with a potent grace. He didn’t seem to notice her nervousness, or perhaps he did, and chose to meet it with his own quiet strength. “It is a beautiful evening, isn’t it, Mion-sama?” he commented, his gaze drifting towards the open shoji screen, where the moonlight painted silver streaks across the garden.

“It is,” Mion agreed, her eyes fixed on his face. The moonlight cast shadows that accentuated the strong lines of his jaw, the slight stubble on his chin. She found herself captivated by the gentle slope of his lips, the way his eyes seemed to hold ancient secrets. This wasn’t just about a delayed delivery; it was about something far more profound, something that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks.

She remembered the first time she had truly noticed him, not as “Uncle Mion” or a helper, but as a man. It was during a sudden downpour, and she had been caught without an umbrella. He had rushed out, his own hat shielding her face, and had walked her all the way home, his arm protectively around her shoulders. The warmth of his touch, the solidness of his presence, had sent a tremor through her that she hadn't understood until much later. She had started finding excuses to be near him, to watch him work, to offer him tea, her heart a nervous hummingbird whenever he smiled at her.

Now, with the house quiet and the air thick with unspoken desires, the moment felt ripe. Mion took a deep breath, her resolve solidifying. She looked directly into his eyes, her own usually bright and playful gaze now softened with a raw, unguarded vulnerability. “I… I find myself rather lonely sometimes, even with everyone around,” she confessed, her voice barely a whisper. “It would be… nice to have some company.”

His expression shifted, a dawning awareness in his deep brown eyes. He understood. The unspoken invitation hung heavy in the air between them, a fragile bubble of anticipation. He took another step closer, and Mion could feel the heat radiating from him. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the line of her jaw, his touch sending shivers down her spine. Mion closed her eyes, savoring the sensation, her entire being focused on the exquisite tenderness of his touch.

“Mion-sama,” he whispered, his voice husky with a newfound emotion. “You are not lonely tonight.”

His thumb brushed across her lower lip, and Mion’s breath hitched. Her lips parted instinctively, a silent plea. He leaned in, his gaze never leaving hers, and Mion met him halfway. Their lips met in a kiss that was at first tentative, then deepened with an urgency that surprised them both. It was a kiss filled with pent-up emotions, with weeks of stolen glances and unspoken longing. Mion’s hands found their way to his chest, gripping his rough fabric, her body pressing against his, craving his closeness.

He tasted of moonlight and sincerity, and Mion found herself lost in the sensation, her earlier nervousness replaced by a heady wave of desire. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him, and Mion melted into his embrace. She felt his lips move from her mouth to her cheek, then down her neck, each touch sending waves of heat through her. She arched into him, her head falling back, exposing more of her throat to his ministrations.

“Please…” she breathed, the single word a testament to the burgeoning passion. He responded by lifting her into his arms, his strength effortless. Mion’s eyes fluttered open, catching a glimpse of his determined expression, the desire mirroring her own. He carried her to the adjacent room, a more formal setting with a large, futon laid out on the floor. He gently set her down, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Are you sure, Mion-sama?” he asked, his voice a low, earnest plea. Mion, emboldened by the intoxicating rush of attraction and the intimacy they had already shared, nodded fiercely. “More than sure,” she whispered, her gaze promising everything.

He began to undress her, his movements slow and deliberate, each touch a revelation. Her cotton dress was unbuttoned, then slipped down her shoulders, revealing the creamy expanse of her skin. He paused, his gaze lingering on her décolletage, on the gentle swell of her breasts beneath her thin chemise. Mion’s nipples hardened at his gaze, and a soft moan escaped her lips.

He knelt before her, his eyes filled with a reverence that made her heart ache. He reached for the edge of her chemise, his fingers brushing against her skin. Mion helped him, her own hands trembling as she pushed the fabric away, revealing her ample, perfectly rounded breasts. They were a generous size, her nipples already dark and erect, begging for attention. He brought one of her breasts to his lips, his tongue tracing the curve, then his mouth closed around her nipple. Mion cried out, her fingers digging into his hair, her back arching as pure ecstasy coursed through her.

He suckled and licked, his touch both tender and demanding, coaxing a symphony of moans and gasps from her. He moved to the other breast, repeating his delicious ministrations, and Mion found herself teetering on the edge of release, her body quivering with need. The intensity of his focus, the sheer worship in his touch, was overwhelming in the most exquisite way.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with emotion. Mion, her senses alight, felt a surge of confidence. She reached for his shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons, eager to feel his skin against hers. As his shirt was shed, Mion marveled at the defined muscles of his chest, the broadness of his shoulders. She ran her hands over his skin, feeling the warmth, the slight roughness. He was strong, solid, everything she had secretly craved.

He stood and, with a decisive move, shed the rest of his clothes. Mion’s breath caught in her throat. He was magnificent, his body lean and powerful, etched with the signs of his labor, yet possessing a natural, masculine beauty. Her gaze devoured him, from the broad expanse of his chest to the dark, tempting arousal that swelled between his legs. She had never seen anything so… perfect.

He reached for her, his hands gently caressing her thighs, then sliding upwards. Mion parted her legs for him, her body instinctively ready. He lowered himself between her, his eyes locking with hers, a silent question. Mion nodded, a tear of pure desire escaping her eye. He entered her slowly, his tip nudging against her wetness, and Mion gasped at the exquisite sensation of his fullness beginning to penetrate her. It was a perfect fit, a homecoming she hadn't realized she was missing.

With a gentle, almost reverent push, he entered her completely. Mion cried out, a mix of pleasure and sheer overwhelm. Her body clenched around him, her thighs drawing him deeper. He stayed still for a moment, allowing her to adjust, their eyes locked in a silent communion. The rhythmic sound of their breathing, the soft sighs and moans that escaped their lips, filled the room.

Then, he began to move. Slowly at first, a deep, primal rhythm that built with each stroke. Mion met his rhythm, her hips arching to meet his thrusts, her body responding to his every touch. The friction was exquisite, building to an unbearable intensity. She felt his sweat slicking their skin, the warmth of his body pressed against hers, the sheer physicality of their union overwhelming her senses. She looked at his face, his eyes closed, his brow furrowed in concentration, and saw a mirroring of her own rapture.

“Oh, yes,” she moaned, her voice a ragged whisper. “Don’t stop.”

He grunted, picking up the pace, his thrusts becoming more powerful, more insistent. Mion’s nails dug into his back, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her vision blurred, the world narrowing to the intense, pulsating pleasure building within her. She could feel the climax approaching, a tidal wave of sensation crashing over her. She felt him kiss her deeply, his tongue entwining with hers, his body pumping faster, harder.

“Mion!” he gasped, his voice strained with effort. “Mion, I’m… I’m coming!”

Mion’s own release surged through her, a blinding explosion of pleasure that ripped through her body, making her cry out his name. She felt his own climax ripple through him, his body tensing as he came deep inside her. He collapsed onto her, his heavy breathing filling the silence, his body trembling against hers. They lay tangled together, their sweat-slicked bodies entwined, the lingering tremors of their shared ecstasy still vibrating through them.

After a long moment, he lifted his head, his eyes soft and full of a tenderness that made Mion’s heart melt. He gently brushed a strand of green hair from her damp forehead. “You were… magnificent, Mion-sama,” he whispered, his voice still husky. “Truly magnificent.”

Mion smiled, a genuine, radiant smile that reached her eyes. She reached up and caressed his cheek, her fingers tracing the lines of his face. “And you,” she replied, her voice still breathless, “were everything I ever dreamed of.”

He leaned down and kissed her again, a soft, lingering kiss filled with promise and a shared intimacy. The air was no longer charged with anticipation, but with a deep, satisfying contentment. As the moonlight continued to spill into the room, Mion Sonozaki knew that this was not just a night of passion, but the beginning of something far more profound, a connection forged in the quiet intimacy of Hinamizawa, between a girl with emerald green hair and the man who had finally seen the longing in her Mi Chan heart.