Keroberos stared at the fluffy white whipped cream swirls atop his strawberry shortcake, full of all the plump red strawberries it needed, except the one that was most important and most delicious: the one at the top. The prize. The crown jewel of the cake. The entire reason to even bother eating the cake, never mind the rest. Never mind the sugary red syrup pooled in the center of the creamy swirls atop the cake. Nor the lightly frosted and soft vanilla layers. The strawberry slices cutely arranged in the glazed center. Without the crowning strawberry, Keroberos simply could not bear the thought of eating the cake. It would be too cruel to eat the cake without its precious and prized fruit. The cake he had waited all afternoon to eat. It looked so delicious and fresh and fluffy, and Keroberos felt a twang of regret. He could have eaten it if Sakura had not needed his help drying out her dresses. The fresh and delicious smell of it was all he could think about in the other room, but he had managed. He waited, but the strawberry had not waited for him.
When Sakura came into the room, her laundry dry and folded, she found Keroberos sprawled out on the floor. He was limp, but not limp and plump from recent feast. His nose was pointed at a plate inches from his face, the strawberry shortcake happily delicious and resting.
“Kero-chan,” she said, “What's the matter, Kero-chan?”
Keroberos turned over away from the plate, his legs thunking against the floor, his wings clutching his sides.
“Kero-chan?” Sakura said again as she knelt by him. “Kero-chan, why don't you eat your cake?”
Keroberos ignored her and flopped back over, but realized he was staring at the cake again. He squeaked out a growl and got up on all fours and walked over to the sofa and stuck his head under it.
Sakura looked at Keroberos and then the cake, which seemed sadder than when she had made it for Keroberos this morning, less bright and delicious.
“Did you eat the strawberry, Kero-chan? It's missing.”
Keroberos squeaked out another growl, more a grumbling murmur than anything.
Sakura crawled over to the sofa, by the poor little Keroberos. She held her head down by the feet of the sofa, her hair dangling but lifting slightly off the floor, brushed up by the breeze from the open window. She tucked it behind her ear.
“Would you like another strawberry, Kero-chan?”
Keroberos went rigid, his tail flat on the floor, his wings firm against his body. He did not growl this time, but Sakura saw a small dip of his head, and she smiled.
When Sakura came back from the kitchen, Keroberos was waiting by the cake. His ears were straight up, his eyes wide and full of excitement. Sakura crouched down and fixed the new, fresh strawberry where the old one had been, a perfect fit atop the creamy swirls.
Keroberos' fangs poked out of his mouth, and his tail wagged.
“T-thank you, Sakura-chan,” he started to squeak out in his cute little voice, but before the words had left his mouth a tiny bird darted into the room through the open window. It fluttered down to the cake and grabbed the strawberry in its beak, and then took off back through the window, leaving Sakura shocked while Keroberos did something half-between a bark and a shout, which was more a squeal than anything.
“Kero-chan!” Sakura said with a start, but he was already flying out the window in hot pursuit.
Sakura ran out the door and into the yard full of bright green grass and bushes. “Kero-chan!” she called again, her eyes scanning high and low. She needn't search long, however, for in short order she found Keroberos alert and, as it would seem, rather still and calm.
“What is it?” Sakura asked as she drew up to Keroberos, but before the words had left her mouth she saw it. There, nestled in the bushes in front of Keroberos, was a little bird's nest with three baby birds taking small bites at a strawberry, their mother perched on the edge of the nest eyeing Keroberos.
“Aww, Kero-chan,” Sakura said. “Aren't they so cute?”
“B-but...” Keroberos said with a stammer.
“They are so happy—they really like it, Kero-chan.”
“I guess,” he said somewhat glumly, and Sakura picked him up, giving a small curtsy to the mother bird.
“There's always more strawberries, Kero-chan,” Sakura said. “We could even set one out for them.”
Keroberos looked at the nest, then back at Sakura, his little furry brow furrowed in thought.
“I guess it might be nice to share,” he finally said, and settled into Sakura's arms as they headed back inside.