Why Doesn't Kratos Like Tomatoes?
Summary: It's not that he doesn't enjoy their taste, which he may, but anyone would hate the fruit too had it been shoved in some place OTHER than where it should go. Book two in the Mysteries of the Seraphim mini series.
Spoilers: Ohohoo yes. Much on the Merc in Purp, and the doggie in green.
A/N: The question we all want answered... or at least believe we don't, saying that it, in fact, is NOT floating around in the back of our minds, when in reality the curiosity is gnawing them from the inside out.
Every child acquires a taste for certain foods. Some gain a sweet-tooth, others turn into crazy, carnivorous little demons, and select few even become vegetarian tree huggers. As well as gaining, they also learn to reject flavors. To attain a deep abhorrence for a such tang, would they not have to have tasted it? That's what I thought, too.
However, this account I am about to tell is true down to its uttermost element and straight from the protozoan's snout... or mouth-gill thing at the time. It was truly a moment that I'll never forget...
The event in case took place around three thousand, nine hundred and ninety-seven years ago. At the time, the 'heroes' of the Kharlan war were but little annoying brats. Yui, Tos-tos and Marie (Martel) were each about three, Mitty wasn't to be born for another five or so years.
I, like them, was very young. I was in my Aquan form, just getting used to having more than one cell. Trying to command them all at once, well, I had a constant headache for the next century. But that's beside the point.
Tos-tos and I pretty much grew up together, from as far as I've had a brain. When he was two, he had fished me out using his primitive little fishing net, bringing me back home like he did almost anything else he could pick up.
His mother was a kind woman underneath her barbaric exterior. She had to be though, as soon as her son was born, his father was sent off to fight in the war; he never came back.
The village, called Torgon, which is now somewhere around Ozette, was a dirt poor establishment, plagued by constant famine and victimized by monthly raids from the more powerful towns, such as Mizuho, Alzrin (Sybak), and even Tokiou (Meltokio). It was hardly a place to raise a family, or even live for that matter.
It was a few weeks after Tos-tos had captured me and made me his friend in a jar. I swam around furiously in my little jar, his mother (I called her Fuu at the time because it was the only sound I could make,) had had a terrible day. Apparently she had fought off the neighbors with a dagger to secure dinner; I don't believe the phrase 'love thy neighbor' was in existence at the time.
Anyway, Tos-tos came running into the hut clutching some limp object—I later discovered it to be a dead squirrel—like he had become the king of the world.
"Mama! Lookie, lookie!" he said gleefully swinging the dead carcass around. It only one glare from Fuu for him to toss his new toy outside with a disappointed, "Aaaw..."
"There. You hungry?" she asked her son, managing to sound as cheery as possible.
He smiled and nodded eagerly. When she turned to grab his dinner, he bounced over to where she was, trying to see over the counter, "Whaddya get this time?" he questioned over and over again.
"It wasn't easy, but I got us tomatoes. If you don't like 'm, grin and bare it." she said, setting an old plate full of diced tomatoes onto their makeshift table.
He poked his head over the table, "Oooh..."
She smiled, "They're red."
Tos-tos picked one up, examining it thoroughly before answering, "Yah!"
"Alright, go ahead, eat 'm up."
He took another look over them before putting the one he plucked back, then walking towards my jar. "Naah."
I flinched as much as a fish could when I saw the flames in her eyes, "What did you say, Kratos?"
"I don't want tomatoes!"
She growled, grabbed a spoon and pulled her son over to her by the locks of his tangled red hair. "You will eat your food, got it?"
"Nooo!" he screamed in protest, trying to wriggle free from her grasp. She sighed, scooping a few cubes onto the spoon, then held it before his mouth. "Open up."
"Mm-mm!" he refused, lips pressed. "Eat your freakin' tomatoes!" Frustrated beyond compare, Fuu took aim, and attempted to shove the spoon into his mouth, whether he wanted it there or not.
What she did not take in account however, was that Tos-tos had turned his head at the last minute. Four cubed tomatoes, into his ear lobe.
Shudders racked his small body; his eyes went wider than I though ever possibly for a human. After a while, he closed his eyes, covered his ears and screamed as loud as he could.
He never took a great favor to the color red again.