You make me scream, then I made you cry, when I left that little bird with its broken leg to die - Ed Sheeran

She's pale and sweaty, with spots of pink in her cheeks and lines that Hanzo didn't remember her having before, but even though her hair clings to bloodless skin and her whole body sags against the pillows propping her up with exhaustion, Hanzo doesn't think his mother has ever looked happier than she does holding his new baby brother in her arms.

While he wasn't entirely sure of the details, he was sure that Genji had been inside their mother's stomach before she started crying out like something was hurting her, before the doctors ushered her into the master bedroom, then closed the door behind them. Father walked inside not long after, and Hanzo tried to follow but the servants led him to the kitchens instead to wait for news, good or ill, because though he was the young heir, they still looked at him and saw a child.

They poured him a tall glass of milk to go with the stack of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies sitting on the counter for him, then showed him how to play different card games to pass the time. He'd pouted at first, a luxury he was afforded only when they were alone like this, but the sweets and games soon distracted him, and hours later, the servants gently shook him awake from a dreamless sleep to inform him with bright smiles that his mother was awake and healthy and more than ready to see him.

He'd been so excited that he'd dashed out of the kitchens, breaking one of the Elders' rules in the process, because every second was an eternity and he couldn't wait anymore, but after squeezing through the doors to his parent's bedroom, he realized that he didn't know what to do. The bundle in his mother's arms looked so fragile. Was he really supposed to go anywhere near it? What if something bad happened? What if he did something wrong?

His mother's eyes flicked up to see him hovering, paralyzed by indecision, and her lips quirked up in an amused smile. She gestured for him to come forward, and his body moved automatically, his steps stiff and mechanical until he stood by her bedside, staring at the wrinkled pink bundle cradled in his mother's arms with open fascination.

When he rested his chin on the mattress with a huff, his mother hid a smile behind a cupped palm, before bending to brush her lips against the baby's brow. "Wake up, little bird," she whispered, her breath fluttering against the new skin like the beat of a butterfly's wings, and the child squirmed, hands clenched into tiny fists. "It's time to meet your brother." She offered the newborn to her oldest son, who vehemently shook his head, fear present in his dark brown eyes.

"What if he gets hurt?" Hanzo murmured, so quiet his mother had to lean forward to hear, "What if I drop him?"

After reaching towards her son to tuck a stray lock of his bangs behind an ear, her heart aching when he leaned into the touch, a flower shifting its petals towards the sun. "You won't. Hanzo, I promise you." Gently, she circled her fingers around his wrist, then placed his palm over her chest, allowing him to feel her steady, beating heart. This was not a promise she was making lightly, but one imbued with all of the life that yet burned inside her. "You are going to be the best big brother."

Always too serious for his age, Hanzo bobbed his head in a sharp nod, determined to live up to her expectations. After carefully pulling away from her cool touch, he held out his arms in grim resignation, mouth pinched in a thin line. Suppressing a snicker at the boy who was little more than a toddler in her eyes, his mother placed the baby in his arms, allowing Hanzo to take the weight gradually until he was fully supporting his younger brother with a palm under his head and the rest tucked safely within the crook of his elbow.

The baby was a solid weight in his arms, heavier than Hanzo'd imagined something so small could be. There was a whiff of powder tickling his nose. Hanzo adjusted his grip on the baby so he could rest the majority of its weight on the mattress, then cautiously poked its cheek, creating a shallow dip that vanished the instant he removed his finger. Baffled, he scrunched up his face. "He's squishy."

It was hard for him to imagine that the wrinkly, wriggling lump in his arms could ever grow to be someone he could talk or play with, but his mother laughingly assured him that it was only because Genji was so young, "which is why he's going to need his older brother to take care of him. Do you think I can trust you with this…" A soft smile raised her lips, merriment sparking in her dark eyes, "most grave of responsibilities, Hanzo?" And though she sagged against the pillows holding her up, there was adoration in her gaze as she watched her two sons interacting for the first time. Genji cooed, too curious about the world around him to stay grumpy at being woken for long, and curled his fingers around a lock of Hanzo's hair. It'd been some time since his last haircut, and now it brushed his shoulders, as shimmering, healthy, and sleek as hers had once been. He frowned at the gentle tugging, working studiously to untangle the small hand with a brow furrowed in concentration.

Having a little brother would be good for him, she was sure. Already she could see Genji worming his way into Hanzo's heart, so it wasn't much of a surprise when Hanzo lowered his head in a solemn nod, as though she had set the entire world to rest on his shoulders. And maybe she should have said something, told him she was only teasing, but it was strangely comforting to receive such an earnest response. Although he was still a child, he was already so much like his father, proud and noble and kind. Too kind.

The Shimada clan had needed an heir when she'd agreed to marry their father, but that was not why she had delivered a child into the suffocating darkness of the crime syndicate. She had loved too strongly, with all of her soul, and now her hope for her husband, who even now was not at her side, and for her sons, was that they protected each other, and that Genji, her youngest, her little sparrow, would be enough to keep the clan from sharpening Hanzo's kindness into a blade.

But until that day came when Genji was old enough to fly freely under the open skies, he would need an older brother to look after him, to show him how to survive, which was why she made no attempt to lessen the burden she'd set on her eldest's slender frame, one that would grow as he grew, change as he did.

She loved both her sons with a fire that burned so ferociously it consumed her from within. The doctors said it wouldn't be long before disease took what was left, and it struck her over and over how unfair it all was. She was supposed to be their shield, the impenetrable wall standing between them and the forces that would try to corrupt or destroy them. The clan was ancient, and once, it had been noble, but it'd been infected with corruption and greed long before her husband's reign as kumicho, and now the dying branches were slowly killing the tree.

She'd hoped becoming a father would save her husband, but now his dark eyes carried a layer of frost to them, beneath which all she could find, despite her tireless searching, was pain.

Hanzo watched the emotions play out over her face with a puzzled expression that was open, vulnerable, and meant only for her. Once it had secretly pleased her, this hidden side of her stoic son that he allowed only her to see, but now the thought of her child living in the manor without anyone to coax a laugh or a smile from his stubborn lips filled her with dread. With his brother in his arms, Hanzo looked at her like she was his entire world - the sun, the moon, the stars, and everything between. His adoration brought tears to her eyes, because he couldn't have known what she'd cursed him to - a life of coveting the light from the shadows.

His childhood would end with her, she was sure of it. But Genji would usher in a new beginning. It would not be the same as before, not even close, but she had to trust that it would be enough.

When Hanzo's lips parted to ask if she was feeling well, she impulsively wrapped her arms around him, no longer caring for the clan's rules. He was her child, they both were. They were hers to hold and love and nothing would stop her from doing so. Hanzo's eyes widened at the unexpected contact, breaking her heart, and she drew him closer, refusing to relent this time. It didn't matter who walked through her bedroom door or what they said or how much influence they held – she wasn't letting either of her children go.

This clan had taken everything from her husband; it would not have them, too. It would not ruin the pure, untainted hearts they had together brought into the world.

But even as she thought that, she realized the futility of it all. Very soon, she would no longer be around to protect them.

She didn't understand why her eldest suddenly looked so alarmed until a small hand brushed a tear from her cheek. The sight of it broke a dam inside her, calling forth a fresh wave that rolled unbidden down her face.

Confused and a little frightened, Hanzo carefully shifted Genji to his side. "I'll protect him." he insisted fiercely, trying to reassure her, and panicking when it didn't seem to work, when her embrace tightened as she fought to bury the sob caught in her throat.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed to the ancestors, to the gods and dragons, that though her body may fail her and her lungs still, they would grant her one simple wish, after a lifetime in their service, and allow her to watch over her sons, so that no matter how terrible the world seemed or how alone they felt, she would always be with them.

And if they strayed, faltered or fell, her love would never abandon them. It would buoy them, guide them, until one day, her precious sons found the happiness they deserved, and soared together in the sun's light.

With that in mind, she chose to believe this wasn't the end, only another beginning.

A beginning that pierced her heart like a terrible goodbye.