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The Colours of Conceit

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Dawn-To-Dark: "Chapter I"
“G’mornin’, Suzie!”

“What? ‘Suzie?’ That’s funny, Jin!”

“Rinku… You’re so immature…”

“Shut up, Shishi! You’re conceited!”

I’M conceited! Look at ‘Suzie,’ you fool!”

Suzuki sat down at the round wooden table exhaustedly, scooting his chair in as he looked at his ‘breakfast.’ Jin, Rinku and Shishi Wakamaru continued to fight.

“What does HE actually think of HIS name!”

“Why should you care what he thinks, Shishi! You’re too self-absorbed!”


“Gonna what, Shishi! Turn into a penguin and peck on my head?” An explosion of laughter came from the wind master as the frustrated samurai jumped up from his seat and proceeded to chase Rinku around the table in a circuitous cycle, arms outstretched, face contorted in anger; his teeth were bared, his eyes were wild and dilated, and he was snarling as he chased the small child who giggled and laughed gleefully as he ran.

“…Those two are impossible…” Suzuki sighed, his hand held to his head.

“Aye.” Jin agreed briefly. Suzuki looked down disgustedly at what was placed before him. He poked it with his fork, a questioning look on his face.

“May I ask… What the Hell is this shit, Jin?” He said as he glanced upwards at the widely grinning demon.

“…BREAKFAST…!” Jin said subtly. Suzuki narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing.

“What KIND of breakfast is it…? ‘Coz it certainly doesn’t LOOK like breakfast…” The man replied in a monotone voice, irritated at the wind master’s lack of detail.

“An edible kind of breakfast…!” Rinku called as he ran through the breakfast nook, Shishi nearly at his ankles.

“I’M GONNA STRANGLE YOU!” Shishi growled loudly, claws ripping in Rinku’s general direction. His fangs were exposed and horns poked out from his upper-forehead.

“…What kind of breakfast is it, Jin?” Suzuki continued. His head hurt. He and Chuu had gotten into a couple of bottles of vodka last night, not to mention Shishi was shoving Bacardi rum down his throat. He was still tired, staying up until two and waking up three hours later. It was currently 8:30 exactly.

“A Super-Grand-Flippin’-Wicked-Jin-Made breakfast! And I’m very proud o’ it at tha’…” Jin stuck his nose up in the air, superiority and pride strong in his aura. Suzuki poked at his ‘food’ again, questioning and disgusted. Touya walked by sleepily, heading to get a glass of orange juice. He leaned over Suzuki’s shoulder, grasping the back of the chair, and whispered in his ear.

“Words to the wise, my friend. Don’t eat it.” Suzuki and Touya snickered as Touya opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a carton of orange juice. Jin’s head snapped to the pair aggressively and offended.

“HEY! TOUYA!” He screamed. Suzuki chuckled as he pushed his plate to the side and stood up. “Where ye goin’…? Ain’t’cha gonna eat nothin’?” Jin questioned sadly. Suzuki smiled wryly as he pushed his chair in and collected his plate.

“I’ll grab some milk and I think I’ll be good, Jin. Besides. That shit looks like a ball of grease. It would probably give me tons of acne!” Suzuki replied coolly as he stuck his plate in the microwave for Chuu.

“Couldn’t have that, now could we…?” Touya said in a low and sarcastic voice. Jin snickered loudly. Suzuki chose to ignore the comment.

He poured some milk and headed upstairs, glass in hand.

The door to the bathroom closed as Chuu walked out-or stumbled out, rather. There was an odour of alcohol in the air, as he made his way towards the kitchen. His eyes were bloodshot and crossed. He tripped suddenly as he passed Suzuki, who thrust his free arm out to catch the man by the shoulders.

“You all right there, man?” he said nervously. Chuu hiccupped and nodded his head.

“Hell I am…!” He stood up again and pulled open the door to the kitchen, Suzuki looking over his shoulder at the drunk.

“Your ‘breakfast’ is in the microwave, Chuu!” Suzuki called. He continued up to the stairs, sipping his milk calmly.

Sunlight flowed from the circular and paned window at the end of the upstairs hall. Eight doors were built into the walls, four on each side of the hall. This was the corridor which led to everyone’s bedrooms, plus a closet and a bathroom. The light lit up the hall, golden early morning sunlight mixing splendidly with the darkness of the shadows. It gave off a cosy vibe to Suzuki as he pulled his door open.

He had a considerable amount of space in his bedroom. A low-to-the-ground wooden futon was in the far left corner of the room, next to a small window, covered in neatly tucked in and wrinkle-less stoned white sheets. His pillows were big and soft, one atop the other, and a periwinkle throw pillow to the side. He had a small table next to his bed, with incense burning in a jade dragon holder. The only light in the room poured from the small paned window above his nightstand, and it lit up the room very nicely, though the window was small. On the right wall in the farthest corner sat a large vanity. It was wooden, with intricate oriental patterns carved into it. The mirror was large and in the shape of an oval, with a few pictures cut out from magazines of men’s hair, eyes, clothes, and other such things taped to it, along with a picture of an EGL girl from the cover of Vogue, and a picture of a JRockstar dressed as a clown. In the space under the vanity sat a small stool, with a pillow on it, satin-like cloth flowing out to the ground. Along the vanity sat a montage of cosmetics, and several different magazines. The same silver satin cloth also hung down from the sides of the surface, touching the ground ever so slightly.

The glass of milk was sat gently on the night stand next to the incense burner, the light hitting the crystal-esque cup and making it shine.

Suzuki lay down flat on his bed, prone, his face in the pillows. He lifted his head and looked out the window for a moment, then turning over on his back, hands behind his head, and looked ahead of him. In the path of his eyes lay a fish tank, a small rectangular prism of glass, with a light on top of it. It was full of tiny pebbles of multiple colours, a tiny sea dojo in which to hide and sleep, a small fish figurine holding a sign stating “No Cats Allowed” in front of the minute dojo, and plastic sea leaves which waved and danced in the corners. A beta fish, also known as Siamese fighting fish, swam slowly by the fašade of the tank, eyes fixed on the blonde lying on the bed. Suzuki smiled at it.

“Ohayo, fisshu.” He said sweetly as he sat up. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself up with his arms. It hurt his head to walk, but Suzuki continued to the fish tank. The fish swam around joyfully in circles, coming back to the front of the tank to look at Suzuki repeatedly. Suzuki grinned, leaning down to put his face nearer to the fish.

“Aishiteru… Hai… Aishiteru, fisshu!” Suzuki cooed. He grabbed a small bottle of fish food, and opened the top of the tank. The beta shot up to the surface of the water, looking up at Suzuki anxiously. Suzuki pinched the food and sprinkled it into the water. He made to stick his finger in the water, when suddenly a loud BOOM noise came from the hall outside, interrupting the serene morning silence. Suzuki took his hand from the tank and put the top back on it as the fish ate, swimming around gobbling down its pellets and staring at Suzuki as he left the room in a huff.

Banging and screaming could be heard from down the hall. It sounded like… Shishi. Again. The typical beginning of a Saturday morning. Hectic, as always. It made Suzuki wish the day was already over. But, as usual, it wasn’t. For there was always Hell to come.

So, everyone? How do you like it? Yes, I will be continuing this. Saturday morning are always Hell. Especially with children Rinku’s age (lives with a violent seven-year-old). So, there is more to come! I think I shall make it a BIT funnier come Chapter II… And a forewarning! That fish? It shall play a big part. I need to figure out her name! I hope you all enjoyed this!