A/N: I was re-watching part of episode 19 and wondered what happened to that strawberry L gave Mogi. Then I pondered about what its life was like before and leading up to its demise. The end result? This.
The Life and Death of a Strawberry
By: Beryl Bloodstone
Summary: "I am lifted up and dumped in a dark, dark place. Now, what will happen to me in this abyss?" Because we all want to know what happened to that strawberry that L gives Mogi. Warning: you may actually feel sorry for a fruit if you read this. If not, you were at least entertained by the idea of a sentient strawberry. One-sided Strawberry x Mogi
If you think your life is unfortunate, you've obviously not been a strawberry.
We are grown for the sole purpose of becoming nourishment for humans. That's an inevitable fate, and I understand that there's no reason for me to fight my destiny. However, I do have the right to worry about it when that destiny is not fulfilled. In the few months I've spent growing, I've found out that I'm very pessimistic. I couldn't stop the negative thoughts that could've easily withered my stem immediately if it hadn't been for the comfort of my brothers and sisters. No matter what they said to me, though, it is especially difficult for me to shake the belief that somehow, my purpose is not going to be realized. What will happen to me, then? Without the digestive system of a human, what will I become? I feel myself shudder, accidentally jostling one of my slumbering relatives. It is impossible to prevent disturbing them, seeing as we are grouped together in some sort of container. It is close to the basket I and many others were carried in our younger moments, except made of some transparent material that feels frigid against my flesh. My vision is distorted whenever I look through this strange material and there isn't much to see, but the odd figures with the equally odd colored flesh. It doesn't take a lot of thought to gather that these are the humans. Everyberry makes such a fuss whenever one peers their face over our cold habitat because their appearance means the end of life itself...if you call laying around uselessly in a cramped box life.
I am the single strawberry awake when a human enters my field of vision.
The flesh on its face is wrinkled with age, I observe, upon it lifting the box with a hand covered with black material. An older human? I have to admit, it's an engaging sight to see. It's rare for anyfruit to become acquainted with the face of a human being; the only appendages we get used to is their hands because we have to be carried every so often. One thing I've come to notice in identifying the gender of a human (noberry likes to be called an "it"; I'm sure humans don't either) is the size of their hands. From my vantage point, the human's covered hand is shielding us from the unfamiliar, outside world. Judging by the largeness, I'd say that he is male. It's quite the opposite here in the world of the strawberries: males have smaller bodies, while we females are more voluptuous.
The sensation of being carried rouses the rest of my relatives and they shudder around me, having no other way to express their understandable fear. We are being removed from a place we've grown accustomed after being moved so many times, only to be situated in an even stranger, more uncomfortable environment. It is there where we will die. I know I should be unsettled by this thought, but I could somehow see the bright side, and that probably sounds ridiculous coming from a pessimist. Could you fault me for seeing a brighter angle in such a horrible subject, what with the way I think? In death, we will bring satisfaction to a human, who possesses hands like those who helped nurture us, and coaxed us out of the earth's embrace. Suddenly, the floating sensation stops, only to be replaced with a steady and soothing vibrating. Well, soothing to me. It's strange how I manage to remain calm in the face of impending doom, given my own fear. Perhaps I have fully accepted that my fate can't possibly be thwarted faster than I thought?
I am woken up by the tumultuous trembling of my brothers and sisters. I notice that the lid of our box -elevated on some sort of platform - has been taken away and we are exposed to the air of an unfamiliar atmosphere. It's warm against my flesh, and I would have thought it a welcome change if it isn't wasn't for the horrifying sight that played out before me. The elder human's hand hovers over one of our sisters, holding within it a sharp object that is sure to cause her suffering. I could not help but wonder, as it split her cleanly in two, what she went through in those last moments. What was her last thoughts? Did she feel anything? Is she still aware? My questions won't be answered even if she is, I realize, as the hand picks up her remains and places them on one of two round, multilayered mounds of white, where others of my slain brethren lay. My shock refuses to be broken as more of them are taken from me and given the same harsh treatment, getting stuck in that ominous, ivory ichor.
By the time the human's hand is pleased by its genocide, it reached for the last of us two, taking my brother first. My brother has a haggard appearance, due to him being plucked prematurely. His flesh is bruised, a bit darker at his crown than anywhere else. The hand's stems gently prod his patches of discoloration, then- much to my horror -discard him by throwing him in some abysmal box. How dare he!? How dare he throw away my brother!? Throw away his only reason for living!?
"You can't deny a strawberry his destiny!" I wanted to yell at this abominable human, then again, I had no mouth. I wanted to cause him harm, but I had no hands. I wanted to blame someberry for my lack of appendages, so I settled with mentally cursing the humans that nurtured us. If it wasn't for their negligence, he would have lived to fulfill his purpose. What would happen now? What would happen to him in that box? Will his flesh become even more mottled? Will it pain him? The hand picks me up and sticks me into the white surface of the round shape. The feeling is unpleasant. All of sudden, the hand returns with the Sharp Slayer and starts cutting up its creation into separate pieces. Unfortunately, the piece I am on currently is now being lifted. This is your death bed, my mind whispers, and that grim and gruesome thought is all that is festering in there. Nothing calms me now as I am being transported to my final destination. The human and the contraption I am on stops moving. I study what I can of my final surroundings. Here, the lights are brighter and cast little to no shadows. I am moved yet again and this time, I am met with a young human.
The round balls in his head are large and the dots in the middle of them are black, seemingly bottomless. He licks the puckered out sections of flesh near the bottom of his face and attacks inches away from me with another Slayer-this one with four stems, instead of a single long one. The young human makes quick work of the first part of his meal and he is about to claim my life when he glances up at someberry I can't see. I am thankful for the distraction, however, slightly disturbed when I am nearly thrust backwards. I feel vibrations bouncing off of my body; the human must be communicating with another one of his own. Before I could decipher any part of their conversation, I am pulled back. The Slayer dangles above me idly, driving me wild with fear. The thought of my slain brothers and sisters come to mind and my curiosity of what they experienced returned. When the Slayer pierces me, will I die? If I don't, will it still be painful?
When my death is averted, once again, I find myself wishing for it. Anything to end this anticipation.
As if hearing my silent desire to end my existence, the young human places me between its stems. Is he going to consume me, now? He answers my question by placing me into another human's large hand. For some odd reason, I am calmed by this particular human's hand. I believe that I am safe here, even with my dreadful fate coming to welcome me soon. This human's flesh is warm and hospitable as his thick stems close around me. Just as I came to the decision on who I want to help me achieve my one purpose in life, I am lifted up and dumped in a dark, dark place. Now, what will happen to me in this abyss? My brother comes to mind and I shudder in this darkness. Despite that, I trust that this human wouldn't leave me to such an end.
I don't know how much time I've spent in this abyss, but all I have knowledge of is stifling heat. The human I deemed acceptable as my death bringer has left me in solitude for an indeterminate amount of time in this...this sweltering darkness. In my dazed surprise, I am tossed into a world of refreshing light. My flesh is disgustingly bruised, squashed against this new, soft material. I see my human's face for the first time, and he seems repulsed at my appearance. He speaks to me, but I can't hear- I was never able to. Yet, another human capability that I wished to have. I don't feel the need to protest as I am carried and thrust into another dark place. I am accompanied by other rejected items and I wonder if they had served their purposes correctly, unlike I have. Thanks to that thought, I live out my agonizing last moments cursing everything. I curse my unknown company for being useful to my human before I had, myself for being born, the humans who had taken care of me. As for my blackened flesh rots away, I save the last of my ire for the young human that gave me away so carelessly.
The human who caused me to fail the only task I'd been grown for.
A pain consumes my core, and I have no mouth to scream with.
Tell me what you thought, please.