Disclaimer: Check out chapter one.
Story conventions are hard. At first.
"I haven't been sick in a whole month! This is cause for celebration!"
Uranai glared half-heartedly at her mother, too tired to scream and yell in dissent as she had been since her little brother was born. It took very little guilt tripping to make her finally consent to be over to visit constantly… to the point that she was more than just a guest, and forced her to put her own business on hold for the time being. Well, things were going slow anyway; almost no one could afford her prices, and those who could rarely had anything interesting for her to look in on.
Well, maybe she needed the break, but being blackmailed to help out her mother, who decided she was weak after the birth was not exactly the kind of vacation she had in mind. The rain stopped, sure, but that didn't mean that things were exactly pleasant. Her dotty father blissfully ignored his daughter's rising annoyance at the situation of being reduced to a nursemaid for both mother and baby.
She would never admit that she didn't mind taking care of the baby so much; he cried in an alarming way, and it kept her awake at hours she didn't want to be awake, and he never kept his socks on no matter how many times she slipped them back over his feet, but he was adorable and her brother and she already decided that she loved him… decided without declaring it to anyone and being sure she was utterly alone with him when she chanced a smile.
"Since I'm feeling so well, let's go shopping."
Uranai groaned. "You mean you want me to buy you presents."
"Well, Dear Daughter, shouldn't you buy some things for your new brother's birthday?"
"The one that was a month ago?"
"His first one that was a month ago, dear. Come, now. I know just where to go."
"Why don't I just give Father some cash and you go with him?"
"Oh, men don't understand anything about babies, dear, and it's high time you learned a thing or two about them."
She frowned at her mother. This was the same excuse offered nearly every time she was forced to do something against her will. "Must I? I don't plan on having children, you know."
"Hold that tongue of yours!"
"Guh. Yes, Mother."
Shopping is the sort of pastime that only very specific people enjoy, and almost all of those people are materialistic. This isn't to say Uranai isn't materialistic, but shopping for someone else with her own money never settled well with her, being one of the many reasons she didn't care about birthdays, and being lead through bazaars she'd rather not walk through.
"What about this toy horse and barn?"
Uranai scratched her head. "Why isn't the horse in a stable?"
"Oh, I'm sure you can get the stable separately…"
"He won't like it. Besides, he's too young for it."
"He'll grow into it."
"Then get him toys he likes when he's old enough for them. I know he won't like that. I am a fortuneteller, remember? Why should I buy a present he won't like, even when he's old enough for it?"
"You're just being cheap."
"Look, lets get these curtains for him. The ones with the turtle embroidery. He'll like them, I promise, and that room of his needs curtains. It's too bright when the sun shines through that side of the house and it wakes him up from his naps all the time.
"Hmm, but turtle embroidery? Shouldn't we get him something with brighter colors? Babies develop better with colors, right?"
"Look, it's this or something plain. I don't know how colors develop babies, and I don't care." Uranai crossed her arms. "I'm a fortuneteller, not a doctor in training!"
"No need to be so grumpy."
"I haven't been allowed to be grumpy the past month! You were the one that took the privilege!"
Despite this, she still was goaded into spending more money than she meant, all on toys and things that her mother swore that she needed, despite that the crib they had was working just fine, that the cloth they were using for diapers were sufficient and the pins used to bind them strong enough. Maybe this was before the times where new parents would break the bank and go on credit trying to get brand new things for their brand new baby, but Uranai still found herself having to sign an IOU at the end of the day, screaming "I'll sign when I want to sign. Don't push me!" as she tried to read over the paperwork, her mother once again trying to pull her away to yet another bazaar of things that the merchants are selling for more than they're worth (and the constant pulling doesn't allow for time to haggle).
It was timed to leave if the pockets are empty as far as Uranai was concerned, but the mother wouldn't hear of it and at least conned her to have a little lunch which they were out. The daughter had to relent once again to her childish mother, but she chose the place to eat: a small cafe that looked nice, quiet, and far out of sight form those horrid bazaars.
She was successfully taking some time to enjoy a sandwich in peace when her mother piped up again. "Oh, look at that young man!"
Uranai ignored it. Surely it was another attempt to push her into meeting a guy that she could date, and then marry, and then have children of her own with. One stint through the marketplace like that was well enough for the rest of her long life, thank you very much! Besides, at two hundred years old, she would still be robbing the cradle of nearly any man she came up to.
"Surely you can take a peak, dear! He's quite handsome. And he looks athletic. Aren't the athletic boys your type?"
They were once. She didn't really think about it anymore though, so she just shrugged and pretended that she was too preoccupied with her tea and sandwich.
"At least give him a glance! Humor your old mother, will you?"
The past month has been nothing but humoring you, you old bag! Uranai didn't let her opinion show and chewed as if still in blissful silence.
"Oh... oh wait, nevermind. I see he's a fighter. Just got a good look of that gi he's wearing. What a shame."
"Fi'der?" she mumbled through the crumbs she was chewing, finally looking over. Sure enough, there was a tall, well-built man in the traditional Chinese silk uniform of someone trained in hand-to-hand combat. Sure, not a bad looker, but something about his presence—the timing of it—tweaked her interest.
The mother shook her head and sighed. "Fighters aren't good husbands, and even worse fathers. They're good grandfathers if they live that long, but that means a generation must suffer through them first. No daughter of mine will bring a fighter into this family, of course; just because our long life in this family might be attributed to skills that originated in martial arts doesn't mean we should degrade back to it."
Uranai ignored her mother's prattle and tried to think of why the timing is so significant. Because it was very, very significant. Down to her bones, she felt a vibration like some associate with ominous thunder and lining up of planets. Damn, why didn't she bring her crystal ball with her?
"He is such a waste of good looks and toned muscles." A sigh. "Don't you agree, daughter?"
"What? Oh sure. Whatever."
"Hum? Don't tell me you fell for him. Didn't I just say..."
"I didn't fall for anything or hear anything important. Are you finished with your sandwich? I'm feeling tired suddenly, and I have an itch to get back to my ball."
"Don't tell me you're going back to work so soon!"
"Uh, I didn't say that." Uranai stood and picked up her hat and sunglasses. "I just want to see my ball. I have an inkling of something."
"Oh, very well. You've been perfectly abysmal company this outing, anyway."
.-.-.
Another month of Uranai's time managed to be whittled away. By that point, she had given up, appeased her foolish mother's spoiling, and pretended that her father wasn't simply dodging away with the smile of a man that's been around for too long. The little brother wasn't any superb genius of anything; as if something like that could be discovered at two months. But the ebbs and shocks that lead from him indicated that he was quite possibly destined to be something of a genius later on.
How later on is beyond her, but she made a secret promise to him, away from the ears of the parents and most likely away from his own memory, that she would come in and check on him. Many, many aspects of her little brother was excitingly... unpredictable. Something about fighting, she knew. Would he be a fighter? A warrior in time? Mother wouldn't like that, but what did she know, anyway?
Is it because it's her little brother? Is it because of fighting? Martial arts had its own pulse, and so did the world itself, and her little brother's pulse met with them in tempo more than once. What did that mean? It just seemed in passing, but what destiny came from this?
The farther she tried to look, the fuzzier it would get. The only answer she could ever get from her ball was the professional equivalent of "reply hazy, try again". It was a little unnerving... but, more than that, liberating! A random element... no longer knowing life itself like a bad rehash of the same plot over and over again.
When it came to leave, it looked pretty easy, but her mother wasn't going to let her leave without one final shot. "Why don't you invite us up some time? Send someone to pick us up, maybe? Something comfortable, so your brother can rest during the ride."
"I'm not chasing my servants from my house, so forget it."
"Who said anything about—oh, right. Those ghosts. But those things are absolutely appauling. Spirits of the dead. They leave a chill wherever they go, and speak so oddly. It's unnerving. How can you stand them?"
"I think they're a little easier to get along with," she answered with a huff. After all, most humans don't live to the age of two-hundred. But a ghost? Vast majority of those were much, much older. Just by age they're better to relate with.
"At least curb them off for your little brother! Poor thing shouldn't have nightmares!"
"Nightmares? Feh! He doesn't even understand the concept of fear yet; how can he have nightmares?"
"Even the youngest healthy child would know to steer clear of the dead! Why, you just don't get out enough. Your own health must be waning."
Finally, the father laid a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Let it die, dear. Just... let it die." He smiled. "Our daughter does very well in her home, and if we do go visit, we shouldn't impose ourselves."
Uranai nearly gasped in relief, since it was rare enough to get her father's help and she almost feared he'd stay silent yet again. It left her just enough room to escape: give the parting gift while Mother is still befuddled, pick up everything, and run off with quick valedictions. It worked, too, like she knew it would, since the present was a great distraction.
Uranai watched her mother's reaction to finding a mummified kappa hand in the box on her crystal ball while she rode home. Ah, all ends to two months of hell should be so good.