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.