She remembers the day he was born, a sweet little pouting baby boy with hair as black as a crow's wing. Large eyes, holding the night sky within them, and a stern, serious gaze that nearly makes her laugh. He's absolutely beautiful, she thinks. Looks just like his father, this little boy. He's a strong one, as well: he had her cursing out loud and between clenched teeth for more than twenty hours.
But she doesn't regret those twenty hours at all.
Almost immediately, once the nurses have put him in her arms, he bounces upwards, squinting, reaching for something she can't see. His hand brushes her cheek and she shivers slightly, a crippling, overwhelming wave of emotion making her blink, her eyelashes suddenly wet.
"You're a flier, aren't you," she whispers, tickling his nose. He sucks in air and puffs it back out, and she laughs wholeheartedly, grinning. "Even now, you're already trying to fly away."
A tear hits his cheek, and he clumsily wipes it away, sort of scowling at her. She promptly bursts out laughing: this child is going to become the grumpiest crow in the world. But he'll be a crow nonetheless, wings spread alongside him, speeding like a dart through open blue skies.
So she names him Tobio, 'flying hero'. Because that's what he'll be when he grows up.