The black gloves itched Asami's hands. They were made of lace that was handcrafted in an expensive store that her family went to all the time. But unlike the rest of her wardrobe, she hadn't been present to buy them. They had appeared on her bed that misty morning along with the black dress. Normally Asami would have gone with her mother to get her new clothes. Her mother knew what she liked – frilly skirts in bright blue, tiaras, crazy designed stockings (though her mother rarely let her get those). The atrociously black puffed sleeves that now adorned Asami's shoulders were her father's choice, but she knew he meant well. Fashion had never been his forte anyway; his socks never matched his belt or his tie clashed with his shirt. Today, though, his ensemble was well put together: a black jacket sewn by the finest workers in the nation, a black tie with black pants and shoes, and the painstakingly bright shirt he wore that made the black all that much darker.
Asami fiddled with her gloves once more, trying to relieve herself of their scratchy presence. The light coming in from the Satomobile window wasn't enough to illuminate her hands, but she was sure that they were bright red from all her fussing. Perhaps as red as fire. Her body shook at the thought. Her father placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, trying to appease his daughter as much as his own broken heart. She looked up to see him, red-eyed and solemn looking, gazing off in the distance. She didn't know then, but it was the stare of a broken man, the first warning sign. Turning her head to see where he was looking, Asami saw the group of black standing together. Their uniformity masked the bodies of relatives and friends that she knew; now they stood as one creeping, forceful reminder of why she was there. The car rolled to a stop causing a sudden wave of panic to fill the little girl.
"Daddy, I don't want to go." She whispered, peeking out the window as many faces turned towards her, all wearing the same sympathetic expression. She felt singled out, alone. Targeted.
Her father gave a shaky breath and stroked his hand through Asami's hair, the hair she had inherited from her mother. "I…I know this is difficult for you. It's difficult for me too, Asami. But we'll get through this. It won't take that long, I promise," the man tried to smile for his daughter, but the tears fell from his brimming eyes regardless.
Asami looked down, fidgeting with her gloves. She didn't want to see her father cry. Daddy never cried.
She's really gone. The thought hadn't struck her until that moment when she was walking out of the car, her hand entwined with her father's. They walked towards a white casket decorated in blue and purple flowers. The crowd of black skirts and shoes swam before Asami's eyes as the despair pierced her tiny heart. Empty, how empty she felt. Why did it have to be her mother? Hadn't Asami been a good girl? Why was she being punished? The self abuse continued in her young mind as she and her father finally made it up front near the casket.
The service went by quickly as her father had promised. Tears fell throughout the entire ceremony, but Asami tried hard to keep hers in for her father's sake. All she could think of was how her mother used to read to her at night, and how she would help Asami get all the tangles out of her hair. How her mother had taught Asami how to bake and let her wear the bright red lipstick that her mother always used to wear to fancy parties.
They were putting the casket- her mother- deep into the ground now. The dirt soon piled up high enough to cover the grave site, her mother disappearing from her eyes yet again.
Everyone soon left after patting her father on the shoulder and glancing sadly at her. She simply held her fathers hand and stared at her mother's grave.
When the last few people had left, her father knelt down next to Asami and pulled her into a tight hug. "Asami, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry…" his body shook against her tiny frame, and she hugged him back with all her might.
"I love you, Daddy," she mumbled against his tear-stained coat.
"I love you, Asami," he whispered back.
It was time for them to leave. The two stood next to each other at the foot of the tombstone. Asami knew her mother was gone, but in that moment, it felt like they were all reunited once more. A whole family, not one torn to shreds by the single work of one man.
Asami swore to herself right then that she would never leave her father alone. She squeezed his hand as a small promise to herself to be the best daughter ever. He looked down at her and gave a pathetic smile back as they headed back to the car and back to their different lives.