AN: It seems fun to express Satoshi's character through things like Math problems and Tupperware. But hey, at three in the morning, everything has to do with 'toshi-san…
Disclaimer: I don't own DNAngel.
I Am a Cup
It was late in the evening, and Satoshi's mind was wondering where it pleased, for, at the moment, he cared not where it roamed, so long as it didn't settle on subjects like Krad. Or Niwa. It just happened that his mind began to reminisce a bit about his year in 'kindergarten.' That had been the only year he had spent in school with children his age, before they pushed him into high school and college level courses.
The one particular memory, and one of the only lasting memories from so far back, that the boy had was that of his teacher giving the class a writing assignment. The prompt had been that they would have to compare themselves to something, and explain the relationship between themselves and that object (in only one sentence or course). Satoshi had at first began to explain the relationship between himself and an ice berg, but upon hearing the other responses of "a rainbow, because it's funny," or "a butterfly because it's pritty," he had decided not to volunteer his response.
The boy thought that, right now, any distraction would be a valid one, so he decided to re-do the assignment, only this time he would elongate it.
………………………………...
My name is Satoshi, and I am a cup.
I am a cup, with a dangerous poison inside of me. It reaches to all corners of my inside, spreading itself thin, to be everywhere at once; to be the only thing inside. Get too close to this poison, and I assure you, you will die. It's already inside of me, so what can I do?
Flip me over, and I'm a cage. Within me is a great monster. Like any good cage, I contain this beast with any and all strength I have, and I have entrusted the only key to someone dear to me.
Tip me over, and I will spill. I'll make a mess. What's inside of me will come pouring, no, splashing, out for all to see.
Put me over a flame, and my contents will boil. They will boil and bubble, and I will grow weak and melt. Or I will explode. I will at very least have a crack. An irreparable crack.
Freeze me and I will be cold to the touch. My innards will turn to ice. And everything will be as it should be. The poison inside of me will be still, and I will be hard and cold. That was how I was, and ho I should still be, but I am not an ice tray, not anymore, I am a cup.
Pour me out, oh please, pour me out. There is no one that loves me enough to pour me out; to make this disappear. If they loved me, they would make it go away.
Pour me out, and I will be me again. Just a simple cup. Nothing more, nothing less. There will be nothing tainting me, filling me; changing me. I will be an average, normal cup.
Nothing but an empty, empty cup.