NPC/OC-centric world-building fics for the Path Timeline, but generally canon-plausible.

Ordinary living on a Planet full of extraordinary things.

[General Audiences, Genfic, 1674 words]

*******

Eight black shirts, steamed and starched, lay on the bench.
Two fine old coats, one leather, the other wool, hung on the rack for one last
inspection after recent repairs. The small TV glowed high up on the wall,
volume low and subtitles on. Old Li Chang, wrinkled and hunched, shuffled in
and began to inspect the work. Mei held her breath and waited.

He fingered the material of the shirts, fine breathable
cotton. He angled a light and leaned in to examine every stitch and seam. He
turned a shirt around, examining the back. “Very smooth,” he said, voice
cracking. Gnarled fingers crooked with age and arthritis traced the line on the
right. He opened the shirt and examined further. All seams were neat. All
threads were clipped. He set the shirt on a rack and held the lower end down
with one hand. With the other he punched straight through. Mei jumped.

“And there it is,” Li Chang said, wiggling his fingers
through the hole. “Effortless.” He withdrew his hand and gestured for Mei to
come over. She looked up but didn’t dare say a word.

Li Chang smiled and patted her head. Mei wriggled away.
“Gramps, come on.”

The old man laughed. “You’ve done well, little flower.”

Mei rolled her eyes. “I hope so. Only took me like two dozen
practice runs.”

“We have a reputation to uphold, Xiu Mei,” Li Chang said,
dropping in some of the old Wutainese village lingo that Mei understood but had
trouble speaking. “And he is one of our best customers.”

Mei glanced up at the tv in the corner, pondering the irony
of the fact. “What time is he coming in?”

“Half past five exactly. He is usually on time, unless
you’ve seen any cause for delay on the news. Come, child, help me fold these.
These old hands don’t move like they did.”

“You sit, grandpa,” Mei said, guiding him to her seat. She
laid out tissue paper and folded each shirt to match the last, wrapping them
all in tissue. The coats she slipped into suit bags, checking the labels to
ensure they were straight.

Li Chang sat watching the TV and his granddaughter in turn.
He nodded to himself now and then and looked well pleased.

“Grandpa,” Mei said, “It’s getting on to six. He’s late.”

“For him, we wait, Xiu Mei. He will be along.”

At five minutes to six there was still no sign. A couple
customers had dropped by in the interim, bringing suits and skirts from the
department stores for alterations. Mei sighed and glanced up at the black and
white photograph occupying a high shelf of honor.

Li Chang saw her gaze and chuckled. “We had slow days in the
old shop too, you know.”

“But a better business, I bet,” Mei said, flicking the tag
on their latest bit. “Proper custom orders instead of all this fiddly tucking
and hemming.”

Li Chang nodded. “We were established in the old town. But
there is a price for starting over. And it is not so bad. Soon you will be in
that fancy design school. Didn’t have that in the old town, did we?”

“I’m still working on my application, Grandpa,” Mei said,
sinking lower on her stool.

“It will be fine.” Li Chang gestured to the box, to the
hanging coats. “I bet you can already outdo everybody else who is applying. He
will agree.”

“He might if he ever comes to pick up his stuff,” Mei said,
swinging her feet back and forth. Six already. Time to close.

“A few minutes more,” Li Chang said. “If he is late it is
for good reason.”

The TV station logo flared across the screen, announcing a
breaking news bulletin. The anchors were stern but quiet. Mei glanced at the
remote but the volume made little difference to her grandfather. She leaned in
to read. “Midair attack,” she said in Wutainese, translating. “Stopped by him.”

“Of course,” Li Chang said, rising. “We might as well close
up the shop.”

“What is that?” Mei shrieked. A shaky camera zoomed in on a
grainy image, catching fleeting bits of the fight. A large white blur floated
through the air midst the smoke and the flames, leaving destruction in its
wake.

Li Chang turned and leaned in. “Probably him,” he said,
going back to the shop shutters. “Even back in the Old War he was full of
surprises.” Mei gave the TV one last glance and rose to help with the locking
up.

“Wait,” someone shouted. Heavy footfalls sounded on tile. A
gloved hand caught the shutters in the last inch. Mei jumped back, blocking her
grandfather from view.

“Hey, we’re locking up,” she said as the metal blinds were
lifted. They didn’t have to reach his face for her to know who they were
dealing with.

“General,” Li Chang said, “you’re late.”

“I am sorry,” the man said in perfect Wutainese. He bowed
low. Pale hair spilled over his shoulder, catching the light. Mei stared,
transfixed, but he smelled of smoke.

“No problem at all,” Li Chang said. “We saw the news.”

“Yes, about that.” The General glanced around, standing
straight and tall in a fine leather coat only a little different from the one
hanging in the suit bag on the rack. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” Li Chang had switched back to Wutainese. “Mei,
let the man in.”

“Yes, Grandpa,” Mei said, yanking the blinds, although it
was little more than a formality. Stiff from battle, the man took a step
inside. Mei let the blinds fall with a clatter behind him again.

“Xiu Mei,” Li Chang said.

“Oops. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” the man said. “I… appreciate the privacy.” He
cocked his head at Mei and blinked. “Is… Are you…?”

“Yes, little Xiu Mei,” Li Chang said, “my granddaughter.”

“Little Xiu Mei?” The General said, looking again. “Who was
always in the backroom doing her homework?” He held his hand out around hip
height. “You’ve grown some.”

Mei coughed. “Uh, your shirts?”

“Oh, yes, the shirts.”

“Packed and waiting,” Li Chang said, gesturing to the table.
“Would you like to try one on?”

“No need, I know your work,” the General said. Mei
swallowed.

“It’s not my work this time, General,” Li Chang said,
gesturing with a tilt of his head. The General looked behind him.

“Yours, Miss Li?”

Mei nodded. Damn, the man was tall. And his eyes were really
weird. She had never seen him this close up before, always staying hidden in
the back room, out of sight and out of the way. But he turned back to her
grandfather again. “Is she taking over the business?”

“In due time,” Li Chang said, opening the box. “She will go
to fashion school first. Learn the new ways for new times.”

The General looked back at Mei. She nodded. “It’s why we
moved here,” she said. “For the schools.” She held her ground and did not look
away, did not look down.

The General nodded. “So you’ll be learning how to design
things from the ground up?” he asked.

Mei blinked. “I… guess so?”

The General cleared his throat and looked at the shirt Li
Chang had unfolded for him. “You can see for yourself the quality of her work. I
taught her the family ways and watched every stitch. Try it out.”

The General took the shirt in both hands, careful and
intent. Mei leaned against the work table, feet flat on the floor. The man
turned the shirt around, checking front and back. He fingered the seam and
then, just as her grandfather had done, punched it.

The fabric parted with no effort along the hidden seam and
just as easily snapped back into place. “Magnetic clasps?”

“The finest and lightest on the market,” Li Chang said. He
gestured to Mei. “Her idea. Will it suit?”

The General blinked and stared back at Mei. “It will suit perfectly,
I think, and I trust the bill reflects the improvements. No unfair discounts
now.” He folded the shirt up with military precision and laid it back in its
tissue wrapping. “Um, Miss Li?” he said, switching back to the continental
tongue. “How soon will you be finished with design school?”

Mei leaned harder on the table. “Uh, I haven’t even applied
yet. I still need a recommendation, and I’m putting together my portfolio.”

The General frowned, but not at her. “And the course is how
long?”

“A four year degree, Sir.”

“I can’t wait that long.” He shoved his hair back from his
face and looked around with a heavy sigh. “Do you think you, and your
grandfather of course, do you think you could come up with something else for
me? You’ve done a good job making my shirts.”

“Whatever you need, General,” Li Chang said, though Mei wasn’t
sure how much he had actually understood.

The General glanced at the closed shutters again. “You saw
the news?” he said in Wutainese and gestured at the TV.

“Yes, quite a battle. And you with many tricks up your
sleeve, I believe.”

The General’s lips tightened a bit. “Not my sleeves,
exactly,” he said. He glanced around again and in a rather delicate fashion,
raised the hem of his long buckled coat. Mei swallowed. Above the tops of the
man’s high boots were the singed shreds of a fine garment now ripped to
indecent tatters. Mei thought of the white blur in the flames, and the rhythmic
billows of the smoke as it whorled away. The General looked right at Mei. “Can
you design me some pants?”

Mei bit the inside of her mouth to keep the smile from
getting too big. “Might there be a recommendation in it for me if I can?”

“Miss Li, if you can keep me from walking around after battle
with cold air blowing up my behind, I’ll call the Dean of Admissions myself.”

Mei got her pencil and let the grin reign. “Let’s see what
we can do.”

An Ordinary Life: Story One – Li’s Tailoring Emporium