Osamaru Ta
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(WLTK) B1: Chapter 20 - "Never As Simple As It Seems."
🕑 Added 2025-01-06 19:08:20 +0000 UTCJeremiah shifted uncomfortably, his mind churning. They barely knew each other... Why did Ulrick trust him with this? He opened his mouth, but then shut it. “Why me?” he finally asked. “If this is as important as you say… shouldn’t we be going to the police?”
“NO!” Amani jerked upright, slamming her hands onto the table. Her hood fell back slightly, revealing a flash of her face — eyes wide, breath ragged. “No…” she almost shouted again, but her voice broke, raw and trembling. She sank back, pulling her hood up again, drawing her arms tightly around herself, muttering, “No police…”
Jeremiah turned to Ulrick, the question plain on his face. Ulrick sighed. “I mentioned before there are modern laws to project djinn, yes? One such law is the Foci Protection Act, which says every djinn must submit their focus to the focus vaults.”
Her hood still raised, Amani clicked her tongue and turned away. “More like prisons…” she muttered.
Ulrick patted her hand and continued. “On paper, the vaults are supposed to keep the foci safe,” Ulrick said, his voice measured, like he didn’t quite believe his own words. “Impenetrable walls, powerful guards — the works. Places of safety that offer djinn freedom from worry. But…” His gaze flicked to Amani.
Jeremiah frowned, fingers tapping absently on the table. He couldn’t quite place the problem. A vault to protect the foci and give djinn some peace of mind… it sounded sensible enough. “I don’t understand,” he muttered. “It seems like a good deal, doesn’t it?”
Amani’s laugh was sharp, bitter. “Of course you’d say that, Central boy,” she spat, her words dripping with venom. “Bet you’ve never had to fight for a damn thing in your life. Just waltz in with daddy’s money and set up shop, ready to milk the Outskirts dry like all the rest, right?”
Jeremiah’s jaw clenched, and his hand curled into a fist. Heat flared in his chest, but he forced it down. He might have been sympathetic to the girl’s trouble, but she didn’t know him. She didn’t know what he had been through, what he’d had to do. His eyes flickered toward the door, the urge to leave pulling at him. But something kept him seated, his breath steadying as Ulrick’s pleading gaze locked with his.
Jeremiah fell back in his seat with a glare.
“I’m sorry, Jeremiah. That was uncalled for,” he apologized in her sted. “The vaults are… divisive in the djinn community.”
Amani gave another sharp laugh before going silent and letting Ulrick continue.
“Running those vaults costs money,” Ulrick said, his tone heavy. “Too much, if you ask me. The government helps, but not enough. So… they charge rent. Quarterly. Non-negotiable.”
Jeremiah’s eyes widened as the implications dawned on him. The law said they had to be there. No opting out. No escape. The words hung heavy in his mind, tightening like a noose.
Ulrick sadly nodded as he saw Jeremiah pale.
Amani scoffed, “That’s not to mention all the shady shit that happens there. They push their mass-produced junk,” Amani said, her voice sharp. “Cheap, fragile. Good luck channeling real power through those things. And when they break — and they will — guess who gets slapped with a repair fee?”
From the shadows of her hood, Jeremiah could feel her gaze. Her glowing eyes pinned him in place. “Ever feel your soul crack, human?” she asked in a whisper, her voice as cold and sharp as shattered glass.
When Jeremiah didn’t respond, she clicked her tongue again and leaned back.
“Of course, you could always upgrade to a better focus, but that costs money too, and even more to repair. What happens if you already have a nice focus, though? Maybe you save for years to buy something worthwhile,” Amani muttered, her voice low and bitter. “Maybe you inherit something. Doesn’t matter; one day, it’s suddenly gone. Or ‘damaged beyond repair.’ And you’re stuck with their garbage again.”
Ulrick’s gaze flicked to Amani. “Not everyone sees the vaults as a place of safety,” he said softly.
“I see…” Jeremiah’s brow furrowed as he absorbed the weight of it all. The vaults, the control, the endless cycle of exploitation. It was a lot to digest. Even if he only had one side of the story, he could already see the cracks.
Jeremiah leaned back in his chair and ran his hands down his face.
“And you can’t go to the police because even if they recovered it, they won’t give Aman her focus back. It’ll get locked up in a vault, and that’s that,” he restated.
Amani nodded silently.
Jeremiah turned to Ulrick and pointed. “That still doesn’t answer my question, though. Why me? Not to be rude, but couldn’t you do it for her? What hope do I have if you can’t touch whoever stole her focus?”
Ulrich gave an awkward grin and scratched the side of his head. “Ah… that’s where things get kind of tricky.” The large man sighed and visibly sagged. “I’m rather well known around these parts for various… reasons —” Ulrick’s gaze shifted to the side, and his cheeks flushed. “If I were to move, some rather annoying people would take notice. We can’t let that happen.”
Jeremiah’s eyes widened. “The thief doesn’t know what they have… do they?”
Neither Ulrick nor Amani responded, though their silence spoke volumes enough. Jeremiah groaned, grabbed a pastry off the table, and stuffed it in his mouth before washing it down with the rest of his cider. He slammed the mug on the table, and when he could speak again, he folded his hands.
“So… let me see if I understand,” He said. “Amani,” Jeremiah pointed to the djinn, “is a vaultless djinn whose focus was stolen. She can’t go to the police because they’ll take her focus and lock it in a vault for her ‘protection.’ Good so far?”
Both Ulrick and Amani nodded.
Jeremiah shifted his finger to Ulrick. “You,” he continued, “can’t go after the focus yourself, because the thief isn’t aware of what he has yet, and doing so might tip him off. Or someone worse.”
Again, both nodded. Jeremiah pointed at himself.
“That’s why you need me. I’m a relativity fresh face in the Crossroads. No one would look twice at me mugging a couple of thieves. The thieves get what’s coming, Amani gets her focus, and no one’s any the wiser. Am I right?” he finished.
Ulrick grinned from ear to ear, then turned to Amani and thumbed at Jeremiah. “See, lass? I told you he was a sharp one.”
Amani only rolled her eyes.
Jeremiah shook his head. “Please tell me you at least know who took it,” he said.
Ulrick’s grin faltered. “Aye lad, that we do…”
Jeremiah could hear the ‘but’ in the man’s voice, and he sighed.
——————————————————
Jeremiah kicked at a loose stone on the crumbling sidewalk, his steps heavy as frustration churned in his chest. “Why the hell did you agree to this, Jeremiah?!” He muttered under his breath.
“Because you’re ya sister’s brother,” came a gravelly voice from behind, casual and uninvited.
Jeremiah flinched, spinning on his heel. Mero hovered lazily a few feet away, outlined by the evening sun. The fairy’s wings fluttered just enough to keep him aloft as he lounged in mid-air, his arms folded behind his head. With a grin that could sour milk, he flipped over and fixed Jeremiah with a knowing look.
“You two are cut from the same cloth, y’know? Goody-two-shoes, savior complexes, and a chronic inability to recognize when you’re in over your head. It’s in your blood.”
Jeremiah scowled but bit down on the retort that bubbled up. He wasn’t about to give the fairy the satisfaction. He forced his tone steady, steering the conversation away from the bait. “So, you heard all of that?”
Mero rolled his eyes, his wings flicking in mock indignation. “Of course I did. Someone’s gotta make sure ya don’t go and get yourself killed.”
The fairy’s smirk widened, but Jeremiah was learning how to navigate his guide’s barbs. He crossed his arms and pressed on. “…Were they telling the truth?”
Mero clicked his tongue, a sound halfway between annoyance and amusement. “Depends on which part you’re talking about,” he deflected.
“All of it,” Jeremiah shot back, his tone sharper now.
Mero’s eyes flicked toward the horizon, his face losing some of its usual mirth. “For the most part, yeah. But, as always, the truth’s messier than it seems.”
Jeremiah stopped in his tracks, turning to face him fully. “Messier how?”
The fairy sighed, rubbing chin as if the act might conjure the right words. “The djinn… well, let’s just say their history isn’t what ya’d call ‘smooth sailing.’ They’re powerful, sure, but that kind of power can… scare people.”
Jeremiah’s brow furrowed. “The way they told it, it sounded like they’re oppressed. If they’re so powerful, why would they let that happen?”
Mero snorted. “Because they have one major weakness that has continuously been exploited against them since their conception.”
Jeremiah’s stomach sank as realization dawned. “Their foci…” he murmured.
Mero nodded grimly. “Yep. Since the beginning, that’s been their Achilles’ heel. Steal a djinn’s focus, and you don’t just take their power — you take them. Body, mind, and soul.”
The fairy drifted higher, his gaze turning skyward. “For centuries, that weakness made them easy prey. Persecuted. Enslaved. Always running, always afraid. Until recently.”
Jeremiah tilted his head. “What changed?”
“The vaults,” Mero replied, his voice tinged with both awe and bitterness. He lazily flipped onto his back, staring at the clouds. “For most djinn, they’re a miracle. A sanctuary. No more living in fear of having your focus stolen. No more running. Easy access to a compatible focus once yours wears down. For many, it’s a pretty sweet deal.”
The fairy’s wings beat slower as his tone darkened. “But nothing’s free, kid. Safety always comes at a price. For some djinn — especially young ones with no family to look out for them — that price is steep. Too steep.”
Jeremiah’s breath hitched. “What happens if they can’t pay?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.
Mero’s gaze met his, sharp and unflinching. “Then they’ve got two choices. One: live vaultless, always looking over their shoulder, praying the police — or something worse — don’t catch them.”
“…Or?” Jeremiah’s voice wavered.
The fairy didn’t blink.
Jeremiah’s face drained of color. “No…”
“Yeah,” Mero said softly, his usual sarcasm absent. “It’s that bad.”
“That… that can’t be legal!” Jeremiah’s voice rose, his hands balling into fists as he glared at the cracks in the pavement, as though they might hold some explanation.
Mero shrugged, his wings buzzing faintly. “Legal? Sure. Moral? That’s a whole other story.”
“What about the other djinn?” Jeremiah’s voice was tight with anger. “They wouldn’t stand for this, would they?”
Mero raised a brow, his smirk returning like a ghost. “Who do you think runs the vaults?”
Jeremiah’s chest burned, the heat spreading like a wildfire as his fists trembled, knuckles whitening under the strain. His breath came sharp, uneven, and every muscle in his body begged for release. Was this really the city I grew up in?
The anger boiled higher, surging through him, until the answer hit him like a deluge of icy rain, extinguishing the flames but leaving a cold, bitter ache in their place.
The same reason it’s always been this way, he thought.
They didn’t know.
Or maybe they didn’t care enough to look. Central was comfortable. Prosperous. Safe. For most people, it was a city without cracks — at least, none they needed to acknowledge. Jeremiah’s jaw tightened as he wrestled with the realization. How could he blame them? He’d been no different.
Sure, he’d seen the scandals. Read about corruption in news articles or scrolled past fiery debates online. But how often had he done more than skim the surface, indulge in fleeting curiosity before moving on?
The memories came unbidden, sharp and unrelenting. His sister, Sarah — her voice hoarse from hours spent on the phone after the accident that stole their parents. Her tear-streaked face when she thought he wasn’t looking. Her dogged determination, even in the face of everyone turning their backs on them in the aftermath? Even when Sarah herself had died, it had been just more of the same.
How long had he chosen blindness? Willfully ignorant of what was happening around him?
Sarah never had.
“This is the truth… isn’t it?” Jeremiah’s voice cracked as he spoke through gritted teeth. A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “I always wondered how Sarah managed to have another cause, another fight, another project she had to fix.” He shook his head, the weight of his realization settling in. “But it wasn’t like that… was it?”
For the first time since he’d met the fairy guide, Jeremiah could almost detect what might have been sadness in the man’s voice. “Nah, kid. Your sis… she wasn’t some saint working miracles just for the hell of it.” The fairy’s wings fluttered absently as he exhaled. “What she was, was a woman. A woman tryin’ like hell to keep her head above water in a sea that just wouldn’t stop churnin’.”
The fairy’s tone shifted again, bright and chipper, as though brushing off invisible dust. “But don’t let that drag ya down, kid. People like her? They’re rare. Special. You don’t need to be her. Hell, you shouldn’t try. You’ll burn yourself out. People like you and me?” Mero shrugged, his grin creeping back. “We just gotta do what we can with what we’ve got.”
Jeremiah inhaled deeply, the ragged edge of his breath smoothing as he slowly unclenched his fists. The tension ebbed from his shoulders, though the scowl etched across his face remained. He couldn’t be Sarah — couldn’t bear the weight of every problem, couldn’t sacrifice himself to an endless fight.
But that didn’t mean he had to do nothing.
The corners of his mouth curled into a slow, deliberate sneer, and a dangerous glint flickered in his eyes.
Mero’s grin widened, stretching impossibly wide. “Now that’s a look I like.” He leaned in, his voice practically vibrating with anticipation. “So, kid, what’s it gonna be? What ya gonna do next?”
Jeremiah turned without a word, his steps deliberate as he strode back toward his apartment.
“What I can.”
