Osamaru Ta
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(WLTK) B1: Chapter 23 - "Why We Stand."
🕑 Added 2025-03-31 20:59:01 +0000 UTCSarah didn’t acknowledge him.
She simply stood there, smiling gently.
“In this tutorial, you’ll learn the basics of the Beast Bond mechanic and how it ties into your System iteration.”
Jeremiah took an unsteady step forward, his pulse hammering in his ears. His breath came in quick, uneven bursts. “Sarah… what are you talking about?” His voice wavered, cracking at the edges. “How are you here? What’s going on? I thought you were—”
The words caught in his throat, and he gave a shaky, disbelieving laugh.
“Would you like to continue?” she asked, unfazed, her tone as even as if she hadn’t heard him at all.
“Sarah! Enough of that, please, just—” He lunged forward, reaching for her arm — only for his hand to pass straight through.
Jeremiah stumbled, momentum carrying him through the illusion, and he fell hard onto the grass. The damp earth pressed against his palms as he scrambled to his knees, spinning to face her.
“You… you’re not Sarah, are you?” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
The rational part of his mind had already known. He had been there when they put her in the ground. But some part of him — the part that still woke up expecting to hear her voice, the part that still wanted to believe in the impossible miracles Sarah always seemed capable of — had dared to hope.
The thing wearing his sister’s face tilted its head.
“Would you like to continue?” it repeated.
Jeremiah’s chest tightened, breath coming in ragged gasps. His hands curled into fists at his sides, fingernails biting into his palms.
“Shut up,” he growled.
The illusion merely blinked.
“Would—”
“I said, SHUT UP!” Jeremiah snatched a loose stone and hurled it with everything he had.
The rock passed straight through, making the false image waver like a reflection on disturbed water.
“You don’t get to use her face! You don’t get to use her voice!”
The imitation’s expression remained eerily neutral.
“I’m sorry, but that response is outside my parameters. Would you like further assistance?”
Jeremiah’s breath hitched and his stomach twisted. His eyes burned as he tore his gaze away. Instead, he looked up, as if the sky itself might offer some kind of answer.
He gritted his teeth and roared into the forest.
“Mero! MERO! I know you’re watching! GET THE HELL OUT HERE!”
A pause. Then, the illusion spoke again in that same empty tone.
“Analyzing request… Special Permissions for User: Jeremiah Bridge, acknowledged. Would you like to contact System Moderator Mero?”
Jeremiah’s head snapped toward it, startled.
“YES!”
“Acknowledged.”
A heartbeat later, a familiar voice spoke softly from behind him.
“Hey, Jerry…”
Jeremiah spun and lunged, his hands grasping at the air.
Mero flitted back, just out of reach, his tiny wings a blur.
“Woah now, Jeremiah, easy!” The fairy raised his hands, palms out.
Jeremiah wasn’t in the mood.
“YOU BASTARD!” he roared. “You knew this thing was here, didn’t you?!” He jabbed a finger at the simulacrum without looking at it.
“I suspected it might be. Sarah had this thing about making the System more… personal,” Mero said.
“And you let me walk into this without warning?!”
Mero’s gaze sharpened, his usual flippancy fading.
“Would you have come if I had?”
“I—” Jeremiah’s throat closed up. His mouth opened, but no words came.
Would he have?
“What happened to the Jeremiah of this morning? The one who wanted to at least try to do what he could?” Mero asked, a brow raised.
Jeremiah flinched. He wanted to think he was doing better. He’d thought that after months of pushing forward, of learning to live with the loss, he’d made genuine progress. Choosing to help Ulrick and Amani was supposed to have been his way of honoring Sarah. Of maybe bringing back a little of that light the world had lost when it lost her. But if his reaction just now was anything to go by… maybe he wasn’t as ready as he’d thought.
Mero sighed, his voice gentler.
“Look, Jeremiah. You need to be here if you wanna have any hope of gettin’ yer shop in time.”
Jeremiah flinched again. He knew that. Logically, he understood what Mero was saying. But logic didn’t make it any easier to swallow. His fingers twitched at his sides, fists curling, then uncurling.
Softer, Mero continued.
“I know it’s not what ya wanna hear, kid, but that’s just the reality of our situation.”
The fairy turned to look at Sarah’s fake.
“Now that we’re here, though, let’s see what we can do.”
Mero snapped his fingers, and the fake’s form shimmered, rippling like heat on pavement.
When it settled, an exact copy of Jeremiah stood in its place.
Jeremiah’s glare snapped to Mero.
“If you could do that all along, why the hell didn’t you do it before I got here?”
Mero shook his head.
“Mero, the Fairy Guide, couldn’t do that. That ain’t in the job description.”
His eyes gleamed as he smirked.
“But I ain’t here as a guide, kid. I’m here as a System Moderator.”
“Does that matter?!” Jeremiah snapped through clenched teeth.
Mero raised a hand, palm out.
“Yes. More than ya realize.”
His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it.
“I told ya before, kid, there’s an order to all this. If it were up to me, I’d have given ya the full package from the start, with all the good and bad that comes with it. All the meddlin’ bastards with their hands in this pot be damned.”
For a brief moment, something flared in Mero’s eyes — a fire that burned too sharp, too fierce, for the easygoing man Jeremiah had come to know. His expression darkened, jaw tightening as his gaze drifted toward some unseen specter in the distance.
Then, just as suddenly, he exhaled and shook his head, forcing the moment away.
When he turned back, his usual smirk was absent.
“But there are rules, kid. And some of ’em exist for a good reason.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“My oath to ya means I can’t lie to ya. So when I said I’m in yer corner, I meant it, kid. But even my hands are tied in places.”
Jeremiah’s hands curled and uncurled, his jaw working as frustration simmered just beneath his skin.
This wasn’t the first time Mero had tried to walk him through this. If he was honest, it was probably the third or fourth, each explanation blurring into the next.
Yet…
With a shaky exhale, Jeremiah dropped to the grass and hugged his knees close to his chest. The world seemed to shrink around him, the cool blades prickling against his skin as he pressed his forehead against his arms.
“I was supposed to be doing better…” His words came out muffled, barely more than a whisper. “I was supposed to be moving forward.” His fists clenched tight, and his jaw ached from holding back everything else. “Wasn’t that the point of helping Ulrick? To actually do what Sarah wanted?” He slammed his fist into the earth, his voice suddenly raw and sharp. But as quickly as the anger flared, it ebbed, leaving only a numb ache behind.
“It feels like I’m cracking,” he said, his voice barely a breath.
When he finally looked up at Mero, his eyes were glassy and hollow.
“I’m just tired, Mero… All I want is to be left alone. But there’s always something else. Always someone waiting just around the corner, ready to twist the knife a little deeper. The city, the college, Sarah’s so-called friends, even the System… They keep taking, always asking for more, and when I question it, all I get is ‘move on’ or ‘forget.’” Jeremiah’s gaze dropped again as he buried his head back in his knees.
Silence settled over them, heavy and unbroken.
Only the gentle whisper of grass finally drew Jeremiah’s attention, making him lift his head ever so slightly.
Mero had settled in front of him, legs crossed, his small form silhouetted by the fading light. The fairy’s eyes were steady, uncharacteristically solemn.
“I’m not askin’ ya to forget,” he said softly.
“Not to suck it up and move on. But yer clingin’ so hard to what you’ve lost, yer cuttin’ yerself on the edges, Jeremiah.”
His voice was low. Soft.
“Grief ain’t clingin’ to the shattered pieces of what was. It’s layin’ them as stones for the road that leads on. Yer not throwin’ those pieces away… they’re flagstones. Each memory, each moment, pavin’ the road of what’s to come.”
Mero’s gaze drifted off into the distance. “Those moments aren’t lost to us, Jerry. They become part of the journey. They’re the foundation that helps us move forward.”
Jeremiah stared at Mero, his throat tightening. His hands remained clenched around his knees, knuckles bone-white, but the bite of his nails had softened, no longer carving into his skin. He wanted to push the words away, to scoff, to shake his head, but… he couldn’t. The quiet certainty in Mero’s voice pinned him there, unwilling to let go.
“Foundation, huh?” Jeremiah’s voice was rough, barely more than a whisper. “I’d say it’s more like I’m walking barefoot over broken glass.”
Mero exhaled slowly, nodding. “Aye. It does.” His tone was gentle but unwavering. “At first, it always does. Yer feet bleed with every step, with no end in sight. But ya keep walkin’... and then one day, ya find those cuttin’ edges have smoothed over. That they don’t bite quite so deep anymore. And when ya look down…” his voice softened, almost reverent, “ya start to see the beauty peekin’ out from under the blood and tears.”
Jeremiah’s breath paused. He hated how much sense that made.
But the bitterness still clung to his voice. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one walking it.”
For once, Mero didn’t shoot back with some flippant remark. Instead, he glanced down at his hands, turning them over slowly. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. Lower.
“Ya know,” he murmured, almost absently, “I wasn’t always like this.” He gave a small, lopsided smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You think Sarah just plucked ol’ Mero off the streets and gave him a job? Na.” His gaze lifted, meeting Jeremiah’s, and the weight behind it was unfamiliar. Distant and raw. “There was a time when I walked my own road of glass, Jerry. And it was long. And it was sharp.”
Jeremiah blinked, caught off guard. He opened his mouth but found no words.
Mero’s voice grew fainter, almost as if the fairy were speaking to someone no longer there. “Lost folk along the way. Good folk. Family. Friends. People I swore I’d protect.” His fingers curled slightly, knuckles pale. “And for a long time, I carried those shards in my hands, just like you. Let ‘em cut me every time I thought of ‘em. I figured if it still hurt, then they were still with me.”
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “Took me longer than I care to admit to realize it don’t work that way. Turns out, all I was doin’ was bleedin’ myself dry.”
Jeremiah swallowed thickly, his eyes locked on Mero. He had never heard the fairy speak like this. Never seen him look so… tired.
Mero’s voice softened further, barely above a whisper. “I’m not sayin’ the road’s easy, Jerry. Or that ya gotta get up and sprint down it today. Hell, maybe not tomorrow either. But ya can’t sit in the glass forever. That ain’t what they’d want for ya.”
Jeremiah’s eyes burned and he dropped his gaze, blinking rapidly.
“Not what Sarah woulda wanted,” Mero added quietly.
The words struck deeper than Jeremiah expected. His chest twisted, and or a moment, he couldn’t look up. His vision blurred, and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, willing himself to push it down.
“Sarah’s not here…” Jeremiah choked out through clenched teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to summon the embers still smoldering in his chest. Yet, something heavier smothered them, leaving him trembling, his body shivering as if caught in a deep blizzard despite the warm sun on his back.
“No. She’s not,” Mero replied, voice flat. “But that doesn’t make it any less true. If not for your own sake, then for others.”
Jeremiah’s eyes snapped open, his glare searing into the fairy.
“Others? Others?!” His voice rose, raw and sharp. “Who? You? The System?! Don’t make me lau—”
Clink.
As he snarled, Jeremiah lashed out with his hand. Only for his knuckles to strike something cold and hard beside him.
He froze.
Slowly, he turned and stared down at the object he was absolutely certain hadn’t been there a moment before.
A small glass fishbowl.
Jeremiah’s brow furrowed, lips parting slightly. He blinked once. Twice. No words came. He reached out and gave the bowl a tentative flick, almost expecting his finger to pass through it, like his silent, ghostlike copy standing motionless a dozen feet away.
Instead, another clink sounded, faint but real, sending tiny ripples trembling through the water.
As the ripples faded, a tiny figure poked its head out from the plastic castle at the bowl’s center.
Billy pulled himself sluggishly to the castle’s peak, blinking as if just waking from a long, pleasant nap. His tiny limbs stretched, and he glanced around with lazy disinterest. Until he spotted Jeremiah staring down at him.
The tiny kraken visibly perked up. His small, bioluminescent spots flickering briefly with delight. With an excited flurry of motion, Billy waved several arms in Jeremiah’s direction before pushing off the castle and darting toward the bowl’s surface.
Reaching the top, Billy latched onto the edge and bounced, his entire body swaying rhythmically, sending playful ripples dancing across the water.
Jeremiah’s breath caught. Slowly, he reached out a finger. Billy responded instantly, coiling his arms around it, clinging with gentle, eager familiarity. The tiny kraken rocked Jeremiah’s finger back and forth, matching the rhythm of his bouncing.
Something twisted sharply in Jeremiah’s chest, tight and raw. A tear slipped free, streaking down his cheek before he could stop it. Yet… he couldn’t fight the small, trembling smile that forced itself onto his lips.
“That’s unfair,” he whispered, half-choking on the words.
Mero let out a low chuckle. “Kid, I’ve been lots a stuff over the years.” His eyes glimmered with something softer, something that knew. “Fair’s rarely been one of ‘em.”
Jeremiah drew a long, shaky breath, then slowly reached over to Billy’s bowl. With deliberate care, he lifted it from the grass and placed it on his lap.
Billy, startled by the sudden motion, released Jeremiah’s finger with a soft, reluctant tug. The tiny kraken drifted back to the bottom of the bowl, his limbs loosely curling in on themselves. For several long minutes, Jeremiah sat in silence, doing nothing more than watching Billy drift and swirl through the water.
His voice was low and unsteady when he finally spoke, barely more than a murmur, as if speaking more to himself than to Mero.
“I still don’t get it.” His eyes remained on the bowl, watching the tiny creature paddle in lazy circles. “What you think you see in me. What the System seems to… what Sarah did.”
He paused, his brows drawing together slightly. “I don’t know how far I can make it. All of this… I…” His voice faltered, the words brittle. He exhaled slowly, staring into the water as though searching for answers. “I’m not that strong of a person.” His knuckles whitened faintly around the bowl’s rim. “I don’t think I ever will be.”
Finally, he looked up at Mero. And something had changed.
His shoulders no longer sagged quite so far, and his back sat just a little straighter. The tired weight in his eyes had eased — not gone, but lighter — like a sky where the sun was just beginning to break through thinning clouds.
“But I want to try,” he said softly. His grip on the bowl loosened slightly, the tension in his fingers easing. “I don’t want to keep sitting in the shards, Mero — I can’t.” His eyes narrowed faintly with resolve. “I know I’m probably going to fail. But if I don’t at least stand up, then even that’ll be a certainty.”
As the words left him, Mero’s face slowly split into a grin. A wide, unguarded smile that Jeremiah hadn’t seen before. Yet something told him that for all the times he’d witnessed the fairy’s sly smirks or cheeky grins, this time… it was genuine.
