Summary: It's time for the festival and the Shimada brothers are thrilled to get out of the castle long enough to finally enjoy themselves.

the sorrow of stars

Once it was just the two of them, Hanzo quickly shut his bedroom door, checked that it was closed, then spun and leapt onto his bed the way any other boy of three-going-on-four might. Smiling at the excitement plain on his face as he slipped beneath the sheets for a story, Azumi did her best to settle comfortably on the child-sized mattress with the additional weight settled around her waist making her movements unwieldy and awkward.

All these nights of practice and the act still felt to her like a new and interesting challenge.

"Could we go to the festival, hahaue?"

She looked up to find her son staring her with hope shining brightly in his eyes, as his round features formed the kind of expression that made her want to wrap him up and give him the world, and she glanced at the rain droplets streaking his window, before gently cupping his cheek. "Maybe next year, my sweet one. Perhaps, by then, we'll be able to bring your baby brother along with us."

And her child pouted, crossing his arms over his chest with a scowl that only served to make her laugh. "What is he doing inside you, anyway?" Hanzo said accusingly, as though it were somehow the baby's fault that the sky had chosen that day to release its burden onto the soil. "And why is he taking so long?"

"It's because he's still growing." Azumi placed her palms over her womb, imagining the second heartbeat beneath her fingertips, growing stronger every day. "Soon, he will be ready to meet you, but you will need to be patient with him." She watched with satisfaction as her soon-to-be eldest's bright eyes grew with awe, and determinedly maintained a straight face, embuing as much solemnity into her tone as she could, "Babies are small and fragile creatures, and the world is such a big place." Then she allowed the put-upon severity of her words to soften, unable to resist a teasing lilt as she gave Hanzo a nudge, "So, what do you say, o-nii-san? Do you think you can look after him for me?"

Hanzo nodded eagerly, a knight accepting the terms to a quest, "I'll watch out for him… so can we all go to the summer festival when he's ready to come out?"

Since they were alone, Azumi allowed herself an amused snort before reaching over to ruffle her eldest's raven hair into a feathered mess, and he beamed, knowing well that his favorite part of the night had come at last.

It was time for a bedtime story.

Legend tells of a beautiful young weaver who spun starlight into cloths of such beauty and majesty that her father, the Sky King, was pleased by her works, and bid her remain by the heavenly river to create even more magnificent fabrics. And the weaver, wishing only to please her father, toiled without complaint, though the burden of her efforts and the pressure to surpass her own works eventually took its toll. Loneliness encased her delicate pale fingers in lead, slowed her movements, and weighed her heart.

Though her father loved her dearly, maintaining the Universe often demanded the majority of his attention, and so he did not see how her sadness grew overtime, how her glittering silver tresses grew dull, her pallor sickly, until there was little he could do.

In fear for her life and happiness, he arranged for a cowherder who lived on the other side of the river to keep her company. What he did not expect, however, was for the pair to fall in love.

Soon, the weaver's heart, which had once belonged solely to the Sky King, began to fill with thoughts of the young Hikoboshi, and she neglected her cloths in favor of spending more time indulging their newfound bliss, and as the cowherder was equally smitten, cows soon roamed through the cosmos unchecked.

Incensed by their perceived disrespect, the Sky King forced the lovers to part, and refused to let them meet. Orihime was inconsolable. She loved her husband more than her own life, and couldn't bear to return to her former loneliness. When she told her father of this, his resolve wavered, and he agreed to allow for a single meeting on the seventh day of the seventh month.

And ever since that day, the lovers can always see their other half waiting faithfully across the river, yet they cannot always meet, for when it rains, the river runs too high to cross, and they must wait another year to try again.

"It's a dumb story."

Though it was growing dark in Hanamura, the sun having sunk below the horizon several hours before, the festival for Princess Orihime and Hikoboshi-sama was still in full swing. Children ran up and down the paved road in summer yukata, laughing as they ducked to avoid the colorful streams of paper hanging overhead, strung across the road and buildings with twine and fishing line.

Frowning, Hanzo glanced down at Genji, who sullenly took a bite of his fish-shaped pastry while at the same time clutching his older brother's sleeve. "What is?" He had a feeling he already knew the answer.

Scuffing his sandals in the dirt, Genji scowled at the ground. "Orihime-sama works so hard and she still only gets to see the man she loves once a year, and sometimes not even that. How is that fair?"

"There are simply times when no amount of hard work we do is enough." A tad desperate, Hanzo willed him to understand. "Her father does not control the rain, Genji."

"He doesn't have to,"Genji insisted, that burgeoning stubborn streak and temper of his making itself known once more. "He just has to let her see Hikoboshi-sama whenever she wants."

Hanzo shook his head with a sigh beyond his years, deciding it was best to allow the conversation to drop for the moment. "You always make things sound so simple," he muttered ruefully, ignoring his little brother's rapid-fire challenge - "Well, isn't it?" -in favor of watching a group of kids his age scooping goldfish out of an inflatable pool. Soft light cast by the paper lanterns overhead illuminated the happy flush in their cheeks, the concentration, and their shared joy when one of them triumphantly lifted their prize for the bagging.

His thoughts drifted, until he rallied himself in time to spot Genji staring longingly at a wall of masks. They weren't of high quality, not porcelain nor any other fine material, but constructed from cheap plastic. Still, they were exquisite replicas bearing the likenesses of youkai and geisha. Further to the right, Hanzo noticed rows of masks dedicated to modern culture, including several sentai masks. Though a knowing smile may have given him away, Hanzo tried for casual when he asked, "Genji?" Distracted by a green bug-like mask with scarlet eyes, Genji made a noise of vague acknowledgement. Still playing dumb, Hanzo struggled not to laugh. "Do you want to get a mask?"

And with a quiet gasp, his little brother lit up like a firework, speeding off to pester the vendor while Hanzo followed at a more sedate pace, taking advantage of the time to dig a handful of yen out of his satchel.

Predictably, Genji did want the super sentai mask, and struck a heroic pose when the vendor gladly handed it to him. On the other hand, Hanzo found himself equally attracted to the Oni. It was a garish red, with teeth thick like tusks, and a black mane framing its features. Ignoring the face Genji pulled when Hanzo pointed it out, he passed coins over to the vendor, and placed the monster's visage over his own as they strolled further down the road.

"How do I look?" Behind his mask, Hanzo grinned. "A proper villain for a hero, wouldn't you say?"

Puffing his cheeks in a pout, Genji folded his arms over his chest, "Well, sure, except you're my sidekick!"

Hearing that, Hanzo nearly stumbled, dirtying the hem of his yukata in the process,"I am not your…" Aware of his little brother's gaze, he stopped to consider. It didn't matter when it was only pretend, did it?

He lifted his mask with a grudging, "Okay, fine. Sidekick it is."

And Genji crowed, triumphant, before sprinting ahead, spewing sound effects as he went. Hanzo didn't think much of it until they abruptly cut off. Breaking into a run, he navigated the crowd, searching for a child in a dark green yukata with a kamen rider mask, and called out his name, only to be brought short when he discovered his little brother kneeling in front of a cardboard box on the side of the road, making cooing noises at the litter of kittens falling over themselves in their efforts to leap on his fingertips.

When Hanzo placed a hand on his shoulder, Genji peered up at him with an open, pleading expression, and a shimmering gaze.

Staring off in the direction of home, Hanzo stood, feeling the weight of expectation and responsibility settle once more upon his shoulders.

"I will speak to father."

"Father, please! He is lonely."

Sojiro didn't even look up from his desk. "Then play with him, Hanzo."

Hanzo resisted the urge to pace, to shout, to stomp his feet and demand that their father pay attention to him, but while such behave might have been acceptable coming from Genji, perhaps even rewarding him an indulgent smile, such leniency could not be afforded to the heir, and so the boy forcefully injected calm and respect into his tone. If he tried to approach this as though it were the opening to a negotiation, then maybe his father would listen. "I cannot keep him company for all hours of the day," he pointed out reasonably. "I have lessons more often than not, study and training. He spends much of his time alone. Also," he added hastily when Sojiro appeared unmoved, "having pets would teach-"

He snapped his mouth shut when Sojiro raised a hand to speak. "If you cannot handle your responsibilities," he said coldly, "and care for your brother, then how can you expect to handle the responsibilities of leading the clan?"

Normally, Hanzo would have backed down at this point, but a stubbornness possessed him, and he insisted,"Genji needs friends, Father. And if not that, then something to keep him company when I cannot."

He wanted – needed to believe that Genji was entitled to happiness. That his own efforts and toil meant something. To hide the trembling in his hands, he laid them flat at his sides, forcing himself not to look at the cardboard box of sleeping kittens tucked in the corner.

I know you love him more than me.

Now prove it.

After what felt like a century of waiting, Sojiro stood to acknowledge him, "Alright." And Hanzo raised his head, disbelief slowly bleeding into relief. But Sojiro wasn't done. "Since you've proven yourself inadequate when it comes to ensuring your brother's happiness, I'll allow one to stay. However, the disposal of the rest will be your responsibility. And Saito will see that you do."

The young head of the security team stepped out of the shadows, though to Hanzo, it looked as though they had fled, and gathered up the box of kittens, drawing from its contents a drowsy mewing. He lifted one of the cats by the scruff of its neck to hand to Sojiro, before leaving the room with the expectation that Hanzo would follow.

At first, Hanzo didn't understand the dread pooling in his belly, why sweat began to slip from his pores, chilling his skin. By the time he'd shoved through persistent denial to the horrible truth, he was already running to cut Saito off at the shrine.

no no no

"NO!" He skidded to a halt at the balcony, where Saito held a softly mewing striped kitten over the drop. Once Saito saw he'd arrived, he released the cat, but Hanzo vaulted over the railing to hook his fingers into the kitten's pelt, nearly throwing himself to his death in the process. It left him in a precarious position, with one hand desperately gripping the bar that seemed to slide beneath his palm, the other clinging to the fur of a squirming cat.

Saito grabbed his wrist, shouting, "Let go of the cat! Sono neko hanasenasai!"

It was the first time Hanzo had ever seen the man raise his voice, yet he found he couldn't appreciate the novelty. Instead, he was furious. "I will not!"

As soon as the head of the guard pulled him over the railing, Hanzo dropped the kitten, tore free from the man's grip, and unsheathed a slender blade from his sleeve. He positioned himself in front of the box of kittens, entering a wide defensive stance with his teeth bared in a snarl and an otherworldly light in his eyes.

Unbeknownst to him, a pair of translucent dragons flickered over his body, circling protectively around the boy.

For a moment, Saito watched the birth of the future kumicho in silent awe. Then he stepped quickly into the boy's guard to land a blow on the back of his neck that sent the child sprawling to the floorboards, unconscious.

Immediately, the kitten from before, whom Saito had believed had wandered off after its release, jumped on the boy's back to hiss at him, even swiping at his hand when he attempted to turn the boy over.

Frowning, Saito rose to stare disdainfully down at the unexpected nuisance. He reached for it, "The Shimada have no need for sentimentality," but was forced to withdraw quickly when the high-pitched yowling was joined and strengthened by a snarl.

The azure dragons appeared to crouch over its form, their long serpentine bodies curling protectively over the boy and the box of kittens he'd attempted to defend. They roared in challenge, and wary of making himself an enemy of the guardian spirits of the Shimada, Saito was made to improvise.

Hanzo jolted awake to discover he was lying on his bed. There were no kittens in his room, no evidence of the events that had occurred. It seemed he'd failed. For all his privilege and supposed power, he couldn't even save a couple of innocent cats.

Truly, he was a worthy heir.

He holed himself in his room, refusing to leave even after the servants announced that it was time for breakfast. He didn't think he could bear to see his father without losing himself, so he remained where he was, his head buried in his knees, hidden by a dense curtain of black hair.

Sometime later, Genji crept into his room with his brand new pet, a spotted kitten. And Hanzo wrapped his arms tightly around himself, staring lifelessly at the ground as his little brother played.

A/N: Before anyone asks, no kittens were harmed in the making of this. What Saito did was release the cats, thus allowing Hanzo to think he'd killed them, and informed the elders that Hanzo's dragons had awakened for the first time, which led to Hanzo's training being kicked up a notch or ten.

Hanzo is about thirteen in this, which puts Genji at around nine, and this was, in effect, the final nail in the coffin of Hanzo's childhood, which was never that great to begin with, to be honest. It's also the last of the one-shots which will deal solely with their past.

Hope you all enjoyed it!