Poor head. A giant bag of flammable trash reminds her of her mother, Flammable Trash Sr., who was, as all who knew her could concur, quite flaming, and infallibly trashy.
It's almost like that one monkey experiment, you know, the one where the monkey prefers being without food but having something soft to touch rather than having food but touching cold metal wiring, this proving how important a mother's touch is.
I have to admit, I find it hard to harbor hateful feelings towards this little one. It has warmed my heart enough to earn it the privilege of dying last.
I'm not sure how much bean paste the world needs anyways, especially since they don't taste good if they die apparantely meaning that production is going to be an issue so this is all just a matter of insanity.
I still want to go back to how the hell it was decided that Yukkuri's would be made of bean-paste.
No, in some stories yukkuris don't taste good if they go insane, and it actually takes a /ridiculous/ amount of torture to do that. Rather surprisingly, this isn't seen very often. But there's of course wide individual differences according to author. Killing them just turns them into an ordinary manjuu, or whatever they're filled with. There's plenty of examples of yukkuris being cooked and killed to make various food products.
In fact, yukkuris could be very very useful to society; one of my favourite things to think about are the practical applications. Yukkuris magically turn anything they eat into filling? Use them to dispose of garbage. Yukkuris piss out sugar water? Use them to purify sewage. We've also seen them being used as vacuum cleaners, alarm clocks, the corpses as fertiliser, and even more insane things... of course, a lot of these seem far fetched but yukkuris can do whatever the author/artist of a work wants.