The tears poured down her face, although he couldn't tell if they were tears or just the rain, he knew he had upset her again.
He stood silently, his face solemn and empty. All of his tears were cried, all of his anger taken out. Now was just a time for silent reminiscence.
She screamed and yelled, threw herself to the floor in anguish, the mud splattering her fine silk kimono. She pounded the ground and raised her fists to the heavens, screaming for help, for a rescuer. All the while he watched, and soaked it in.
He stared emptily; he knew he was alone now. Everyone had left the site but him. He couldn't bring himself to leave. Not now. She still needed him.
"Mama?" He whispered. "Mama? Did I make you mad? I brought you some flowers. Pretty purple ones! Just like daddy used to bring!" The little six year- old said, trying to comfort the woman. He looked into her eyes looking for the familiar warmth that she radiated.
He turned his fists to tight balls, so tight his nails penetrated his palm, causing blood to seep out of his skin, making paths and patterns and mixing with the rain. They fell in tiny droplets to the ground. Still, he dug deeper and deeper into his flesh.
A slap echoed through the streets. She screamed curse words at her son, knowing he was no to blame, but blaming him anyway. He was merely an outlet of her fury.
"Mama." He said gently, kneeling towards the headstone before him.
"I brought flowers. Just like daddy used to bring." He smiled through tears as he set the violet flowers on the grave. He turned and walked away. The headstone read:
Izayoi Takahashi
Beloved mother, wife, and sister
She shall always be protected