Kuwabara struggled to understand what his father had just told him and Shizuru. It didn't make any sense. What did dead mean anyways?
"But Mom was here," Kuwabara insisted, thinking back to that morning when she'd waved him goodbye.
"When she went to the store today, there was a robbery," their dad said, staring at his fists. "The robber shot her, and a couple other people."
Kuwabara had seen that before, on TV. But the people who got hurt there always got better. "A doctor could fix her," Kuwabara said.
"They tried," his dad said. "They tried, Kazuma. They couldn't…" Here he broke down in sobs, unable to speak anymore.
Tears trickled down Kuwabara's face as fear and pain began to slip through the numbness and confusion. His mother was gone; she was gone, and she was never going to come back. No more hugs, no more kisses, no more stories, no more freshly cooked meals, no more anything. Life was suddenly so empty.
Kuwabara curled into a ball and cried. He'd never known he could hurt this much. Arms wrapped around him, tugging him close. Shizuru held him tightly, not saying a word. Moments later, his father's arms wrapped around the both of them as well. Holding tight to each other, they did the only thing they could to share each other's grief.
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