[A/N: Apologies for the late update, but as fate comes, every time I intent to update precisely at intended time of update, I end up not even writing halfway through the chapter, even if I would have spent the rest of the day planning for it. And ofcourse, the rest 50% part is written in frenzy of having delayed the update.
For people who had skipped the previous chapter's latter half, basically Obi Wan just told Ezra that he is gifted but just not in the flashy stuff he knows, and his micro-control is quite good enough, and that flashy force abilities aren't the only way to win battles. A calm mind, skill in lightsaber, and dedication to the blade, and willing to let the force guide you is many times enough to win the battle against Sith
Also the current chapter's first half is also a bit info-dumpy, warning beforehand. I could have skipped it, but my OCD doesn't allow to do things halfway.]
The twin suns had climbed higher, bleaching the color from the desert until everything looked like it had been left in the wash too long. The cave, thankfully, stayed cool and shaded—a rare blessing. Ezra had finally finished unloading his hovercart, a process that involved heroic amounts of grumbling and the mysterious appearance of a spider-like loading droid that Obi-Wan could have sworn wasn't there a minute ago.
Now the boy's mobile home sat parked a stone's throw from the cave entrance, a glittering monument to his stubborn refusal to take a hint. The Force moved in mysterious ways. Apparently, one of them involved teenagers with unlimited energy and zero boundaries.
Obi-Wan watched as Ezra secured a tarp over a stack of crates, his movements quick and efficient. For someone who had once tried to barter with Jawas for spare parts using "charm," the boy was surprisingly capable when it came to actual work.
After their first lesson, Obi-Wan had given him time to think things over. His words were worth thinking about, after all. The boy knew a lot, perhaps too much, as if the Force had granted him a galactic cheat sheet. But knowing and learning were not the same thing. Teaching required patience. And patience was not learned through half-baked visions and lucky guesses.
It was time to begin the next step. Time to add structure. Time, in short, for a framework.
"Ezra," Obi-Wan called, his voice echoing across the canyon. "Come here."
The boy straightened up, wiped his brow with a gloved hand, and trotted over, boots puffing up little clouds of sand. "Ready for lesson two, Master Ben? Are we doing the part where I levitate rocks and look wise while squinting into the distance?"
Obi-Wan gave him a look that could have flattened a bantha. "Before we attempt any of that, you must first understand how the Jedi approached learning. There was structure. Philosophy. We did not simply hurl rocks and hope for enlightenment.
Ezra's head tilted, a flicker of recognition in his eyes that he quickly masked. "Control, Sense, Alter... sounds familiar."
Obi-Wan permitted himself a small, dry smile. "Its a life philosphy if seen in a way, which I most certainly won't bore you with"
That seemed to have made the boy happy. Somethings never change, that much Obi-Wan has learned from his days in Jedi order.
"Yeah, I think I saw that on a mug once," Ezra muttered, and nearly made Obi-Wan regret choosing to not give the oh-so-mandatory lesson of the Order.
"Control," Obi-Wan continued, pretending not to hear, "is the foundation. It is the art of looking inward, of feeling the Force within your own body, your own cells. It is learning to calm your mind, to master your own physical form, your own heartbeat. Before you can influence the world around you, you must be able to influence yourself."
He gestured to the vast, empty desert. "Sense is what you have already mastered to a terrifying degree. It is reaching out from that inner foundation to feel the Living Force in the environment, the flow of the Cosmic Force, the presence of other beings.
We taught Control and Sense in tandem, one feeding the other. A strong foundation of Control allows an initiate to reach out with Sense without becoming lost or overwhelmed."
He paused, letting Ezra absorb that. "Alter is the third pillar. It is the ability to change the world outside yourself. Telekinesis, influencing the minds of others, healing... these are all applications of Alter. It is the most visible, and often the most misunderstood, aspect of our power."
"Ah," Ezra said. "The fun part."
"The dangerous part," Obi-Wan corrected dryly. "Though, yes, also the fun part."
He could see the boy processing the information, his mind clearly working, categorizing, filing it away. "This framework also helps us understand aptitudes. Some Jedi, known as Guardians, focus heavily on the discipline of Control, using the Force to enhance their physical abilities to unparalleled levels for combat."
He gestured to himself. "My own training is more aligned with that path. Others, called Consulars, emphasize the cerebral aspects, delving deep into Sense and Alter to influence minds, perceive the future, or heal others. Sentinels strike a balance between the two, often serving as investigators and spies."
A Jedi must learn the basics of all three, of course. A basic understanding of Sense can warn a Guardian of danger, and a basic mastery of Control can save a Consular's life. And should you ever take a padawan," he added, "you must be able to guide them through all three pillars, so they can find their own path."
Ezra nodded slowly. "So... talent in one area doesn't necessarily mean you're stuck on that path."
"Precisely," Obi-Wan affirmed. "Sometimes an innate gift can influence your aptitude, but often they are separate things." He looked directly at the boy, his gaze serious. "And your gift, Ezra, clearly lies in the Sense discipline. And not just a normal gift. It's a talent in the most fundamental aspect of sensing to a degree that is, frankly, unheard of."
He began to pace slowly in the sand, his hands clasped behind his back. "From your description earlier, it's clear you have unconsciously mastered two of the four main aspects of Sense to an extremely high level.
What you described, feeling the life in the sand and the microorganisms... that is prima vitae, the sense of life itself. And perceiving the Force as an endless ocean, that is tactus otium, the sense of the Force's presence and flow."
He stopped and faced the boy again. "The other two are telepathy, and tai vordrax."
"Tai vordrax?" Ezra repeated, the words sounding foreign on his tongue.
"Postcognition. Psychometry," Obi-Wan clarified. "The ability to sense the history of an object or place, to feel the echoes of events that have transpired. It is a very rare innate gift, much like your own perception. Given your talent, you might be able to learn it, but it is a difficult skill, so do not be disappointed if you—"
"Oh, I already know that one," Ezra interrupted, looking a bit cheeky as he scratched the back of his neck. "Took me a couple of tries and a few year of practice but now I am quite well versed in that."
Obi-Wan stopped. The words caught in his throat. He just stared at the boy, who was now examining a loose thread on his trousers.
He recovered after a moment, clearing his throat. "Of course you do," he muttered, rubbing his temples.
Another layer was added to the ever-growing mystery that was Ezra Bridger. A child who had mastered three-quarters of the Sense discipline before ever meeting a Jedi. It was like finding a hermit who had independently reinvented calculus.
"Why would I expect anything less?" He took a deep breath, forcing himself back on track. "Regardless. Despite your prodigious Sense abilities, the place we must begin your formal training is Control."
He pointed a finger at Ezra. "Your problem—your inability to lift heavier objects, your telekinesis fizzling out over distance—is a weakness in the Alter discipline. Alter is the ability to change the world outside yourself.
But to Alter the world, you must first have absolute Control of yourself and the Force flowing through you. You have been trying to use Alter without a proper foundation in Control. That's why you feel like you hit a wall. You're trying to shout without first learning to breathe."
He stood up, walking to the cave entrance and looking out at the harsh, sun-baked landscape. "So, the first stage of our training will focus purely on Control.
Specifically, using the Force to enhance your own bodily functions. This is the most basic and essential application for any Jedi. It is the difference between a Jedi and a mere telekinetic." He turned back to face the boy, his expression firm. "We will begin now."
--
[Ezra's POV]
'Train your control,' he says. 'Feel the Force moving through your body and let your intent guide your movement in tandem with the Force,' he says. As if these bullshit, fortune-cookie statements are telling me a single fucking thing about what to do.
It had been two days. Two days of sitting cross-legged in the sand, trying to "feel the current within my own bloodstream" while my ass went numb and my brain tried to climb out of my ears for a better view. Obi-Wan would just sit there, looking like a zen garden statue, occasionally offering gems of wisdom like, "Be the water, not the rock," or "Let go of your conscious self."
Dude, I am a rock. A rock that's currently sitting on a hotter rock, getting sunburned through his pants.
I'd tried everything. I tried thinking about my blood cells. I tried thinking about my heartbeat. I tried thinking about how much I'd rather be back in a pricy but needed air-conditioned motel room in Mos Eisley. The only thing I managed to "Control" was a growing sense of profound irritation.
The worst part was the timeline. I'd finally worked up the nerve to ask him about it. "So, uh, Master Ben... what's the expected time-to-competency on this whole 'Control' thing? Ballpark figure?"
He'd stroked his beard, looking thoughtful. "Well, a youngling in the Temple would typically spend two to three years mastering the very basics of Control and Sense. Another few years to reach a level where they could apply it in a combat scenario, usually in time for their Padawan initiation rites around the age of thirteen or fourteen."
I think my soul left my body for a second.
Two years? To learn how to... what? Jump slightly higher? Hold my breath for a long time? Vasha was on Scarif. Scarif! That place had a death laser pointed at it 24/7. She didn't have two years. She probably didn't have two months.
How in the seven hells did Luke go from farm boy to giving Darth Vader a run for his money in, what, a few months of training with Yoda on a swamp planet? Was the green gremlin just that much better of a teacher? Or was the plot armor just that thick?
This wasn't working. The traditional Jedi method was clearly designed for people with way more time and way fewer existential threats hanging over their heads. I was trying to learn calculus from a guy who was still teaching me how to count.
So, I did what any self-respecting, slightly-insane engineer would do. I decided to cheat.
I found Obi-Wan back in his cave, meticulously polishing a piece of scrap metal he'd probably found outside. He looked up as I approached, his expression a carefully neutral mask of 'I am a wise and patient master.'
"Master Ben," I started, putting on my most earnest, 'I am a humble student' voice. "I've been thinking. Your instructions are... profound. Truly. So much that I feel unable to grasp them."
He nodded slowly, looking pleased with himself.
"But," I continued, leaning against the cave wall, "I'm a very visual learner. A hands-on kind of guy. I think if I could just see it done, maybe I'd get an insight into the technique. You know, a demonstration."
Obi-Wan's brow furrowed slightly. "A demonstration?"
"Yeah, you know. Show, don't just tell. Like, if you could show me how you do that... speed amplification thing. Jump really high or run really fast. I bet it would click for me then."
He considered it for a moment, his ego clearly warring with his better judgment. Ego won. "Very well," he said, standing up and brushing off his robes. "If you believe it will aid your understanding. I must confess, I am... somewhat out of practice. The results may not be what you would expect from a Jedi in their prime."
"No worries, man. Any demo is better than no demo," I said, trying to hide my grin.
We stepped out into the fading light of the afternoon. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and centered himself. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, he opened his eyes, and they seemed to have a new focus.
"Watch," he said.
He took a few steps back, then broke into a run. It wasn't a superhuman burst of speed, not at first. But then, about ten meters in, it was like a switch flipped. His movements became a blur, a flicker of brown robes against the sand. He covered a hundred meters in the time it would take a normal person to run twenty, then leaped onto a large boulder about fifteen feet high, landing with a soft grace that defied his age.
He stood there for a moment, a solitary figure against the vast, empty landscape, then jumped back down, landing softly in the sand.
To anyone else, it would have looked like a simple, if impressive, display of agility.
But I wasn't looking with my eyes.
I had Hyper-Perception cranked to eleven, my entire being focused on him. And what I saw was not a man running and jumping. I saw [Redacted]
(A/N: I wrote an explanation for using Force Assisted movement but it didn't feel polished enough. I will explain it in later chapter)
He walked back towards me, a little out of breath, but with a hint of pride in his eyes. "Well? Did that help?"
I just stared at him, my mind racing. I'd been trying to build a radio with a potato and a piece of wire, and he'd just shown me a schematic for a fusion reactor.
"Yeah," I said, my voice a little hoarse. "Yeah, I think it did."
"Excellent," Obi-Wan said, brushing a bit of sand from his sleeve. "You shall resume your practices. Focus on what you saw."
"Oh, I'm focusing," I said, my brain already cross-referencing the data. It was like I'd been given the source code for a proprietary program. "But, you know, the memory might fade. Sensory details can get a little fuzzy. What do you think about running through that a couple more times? Give your old lazy bones some exercise?"
His eyebrow twitched. "My 'lazy bones,' as you so charmingly put it, have endured a decade of desert hardship. They are perfectly capable."
"Sure, sure. But practice makes perfect, right? And you did say you were rusty. Wouldn't want your one and only student to get the wrong idea from a sub-par demonstration." I gave him my best 'I'm just helping you out' smile.
--
A/N: ranking have reset today, so please vote fast with stones! gotta climb up the mountain.
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