The soft morning mist blanketed the village, hiding the sorrow that filled the air. In a corner of the village, a woman sat on a worn wooden bench, her face gaunt and pale. 

Her breaths came in laboured gasps, each one filled with a dull ache in her chest. She clutched her infant son close to her breast, his tiny body wrapped in the remnants of an old cotton cloth. 

He was no more than a year old, his bright eyes blinking up at her, unaware of the gravity that weighed down on her heart.

She smiled faintly, though pain coursed through her with every breath. Her name was Hana, once a young wife, but now a widow. 

Her husband had died barely a year after their son's birth, taken by a sudden fever that swept through the village. 

Since then, Hana had been on her own, raising the boy in the shadow of her own declining health.

The cough had come soon after her husband's death, small at first, then growing worse with each passing week. 

What began as a tickle in her throat had become something far more sinister. Now, blood stained her lips whenever the fit came. 

Her lungs felt as though they were slowly filling with stone, each breath harder to take than the last. She had no one left to turn to, no medicine, no hope. And if she died here, her child would surely follow her into death.

As she sat in the cool dawn, the village quiet except for the soft sounds of nature, Hana made a decision. It was a decision that broke her heart into pieces, but she knew it was the only chance her son had.

---

Hana gently stroked her son's face, her thin fingers brushing over his soft skin. 

"My little one," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I won't be here much longer. I don't want you to see me suffer, to remember me like this." 

Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away, trying to stay strong. The boy cooed softly, grabbing at her fingers with his tiny hand. 

He was so innocent, so fragile, and it broke her heart to know that he would grow up without her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "I tried, I really did. But this sickness... it's taking me away from you. I wanted to stay, to see you grow. But if I stay here... they'll call you a bad omen, the child of death. They won't take care of you. You'll be an outcast." 

Her voice cracked with the weight of her words. "I can't let that happen. You deserve better."

She could already hear the whispers from the other villagers whenever they passed her, calling her cursed, the widow who brought misfortune. 

Her son was seen as tainted by association, though the child had done nothing wrong. If she stayed in this village, they would reject him once she was gone. She couldn't let that happen.

---

The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon, Hana gathered what little strength she had left. 

She wrapped her son tightly in the cloth she had sewn from her own wedding kimono—the last remnant of her old life—and slipped out of the village before anyone else was awake. 

Her steps were slow and unsteady, her frail body struggling with every movement. But she pressed on, knowing that stopping now meant death for them both.

For hours, she walked, stopping only to catch her breath and suppress the coughs that wracked her body. By midday, she reached the next village, her feet aching and blistered from the journey. 

The people here were strangers to her, but she approached them, asking humbly for food. 

"Please, just a little... for my child," she murmured, her voice weak. The villagers, though wary, gave her a few scraps—a piece of bread, a small bowl of rice.

That night, she found a tree just outside the village and sat down beneath it, cradling her son in her arms. She pulled the last of her clothes over him, trying to keep him warm against the cold night air. 

Her own body shivered violently, but she ignored it, focusing only on keeping her child safe. He looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes, his tiny hands reaching out to touch her face.

"Shh... my sweet boy," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You'll be alright. You're strong, just like your father." She coughed again, this time the blood staining her hand was too dark to ignore. She wiped it away quickly, not wanting him to see. 

"Tomorrow... Tomorrow I'll find you a home, somewhere safe. Somewhere you can grow up... without me."

As the night wore on, Hana barely slept, her body too weak and cold to find rest. 

She held her son close, his small body keeping her grounded, keeping her from giving in to the darkness that threatened to consume her. But in the early hours of dawn, she knew her time was running out.

---

With the first light of the new day, Hana gathered the last of her strength and rose to her feet. She walked, her legs trembling beneath her, through the village until she saw an old house on the edge of the settlement. 

The house belonged to a woman named Ume, who lived with her granddaughter. Hana had seen her the whole day and had noticed the kind look in her eyes.

Hana approached the house, her son still wrapped tightly in her arms. She stood there for a moment, her heart breaking at what she was about to do. "This is it," she whispered to herself. "This is the only way."

She laid her son gently on the doorstep, his tiny face peaceful in sleep. She kissed his forehead one last time, her tears falling onto his cheeks. "I love you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I will always love you. Forgive me."

The baby stirred in his sleep, his little hands grasping at the air, as if reaching for her. He let out a soft cry, his eyes fluttering open, and for a moment, he locked eyes with her. 

It was too much. She turned and walked away, her legs moving faster as his cries grew louder behind her. She couldn't look back. She couldn't let him see her tears.

She coughed blood but wiped them with her dark hands. As she disappeared into the shadows of the forest, her son's cries faded into the distance. Hana kept walking, her vision blurred by tears and exhaustion. 

She walked until her legs gave out beneath her, collapsing on the frozen ground outside the neighboring village. 

The cold night air wrapped around her like a shroud, and as the darkness closed in, she allowed herself one last thought.

"I hope you find happiness, my son."

---

Ume, in her early forties but with the weariness of someone much older, opened the door to her home that morning to find a small bundle on her doorstep. 

Her sharp eyes scanned the surroundings, but no one was in sight. The child's soft coos reached her ears, and she knelt down, her heart instantly softening as she saw the boy wrapped in the tattered cloth.

"Well, now," she said softly, picking the boy up. "What are you doing out here, little one?" The baby stared up at her with wide, tear-filled eyes, his face flushed from crying. 

His tiny fists waved in the air as he tried to reach for something—someone—that wasn't there. Ume's heart ached for the child. She glanced around again, but it was clear the mother was long gone.

"Poor thing," she murmured, cradling him in her arms. "Abandoned, were you? But no need to worry now. You've found yourself a new home."

She carried the boy inside, where her granddaughter, Aiko, was playing quietly. Aiko, just a little older than the boy, looked up in surprise. "Who's that, Granny?" she asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"A new friend," Ume replied with a soft smile. "He'll be staying with us from now on. We'll take care of him, won't we?"

Aiko nodded, already reaching out to touch the boy's hand. Ume watched them together, a thought forming in her mind. "They'll grow up together," she mused. "And maybe, one day... they'll be more than just playmates."

As the child settled into her arms, his soft cries fading into peaceful coos, Ume made a silent vow to care for him, just as she had for her own. He was left in her care for a reason, and she wouldn't let him down.

---

As the days passed, Hana's fate was revealed. Her body was found frozen in the woods by a passing traveler, a sad reminder of the lengths a mother would go to for her child. 

Her son, however, would never know the full story. He would grow up in the care of Ume, with Aiko by his side, never knowing the sacrifice his mother made to give him a chance at life.

But deep down, perhaps a part of him would always remember the warmth of her embrace, the softness of her voice, and the love she carried for him until her last breath.

---

Join my Patreon for more advanced chapters.

A/n: Hi guys, first time writing my own fanfic.

Let me know how it began and there will be at least one chapter a week and will stockpile and once sufficient will upload frequently.

You know me so ya do give me some stones and subscribe to Patreon.

Thank you