The branch hung loose in my hand as Obi-Wan's words settled over the clearing.
Stop gripping the instant by the throat.
Yeah, that tracked.
I tossed the branch aside and exhaled slowly, letting my shoulders drop from the defensive posture they'd been locked in since the spar ended.
"I'll work on it," I said.
"I know you will."
We started walking again, following the path as it curved deeper into the woods. The lantern light grew sparser here, leaving longer stretches of shadow between each pool of illumination.
"Speaking of which," he said suddenly, "what do you intend to do with that Imperial ship?"
I blinked.
Imperial ship? Wait, is he talking about Scythe?
"Even if it is a top-of-the-line product," Obi-Wan continued, "I wouldn't recommend keeping it."
I turned the question over in my head, trying to figure out why Obi-Wan had suddenly pivoted to logistics. Maybe he was just tired of being philosophical. Maybe the sparring had used up his daily quota of wisdom.
"Yeah, the heat on it would be way too much," I agreed. "Especially now, with the ISB and Inquisitors stirred up like a hornet's nest."
Obi-Wan's brow rose slightly. "Hornet?"
"Pesky flying critters from my hometown." I waved a hand vaguely. "Leave your ass and face red as a topato if their nest gets even slightly disturbed. Very territorial. Zero sense of proportionality."
"Ah." Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "Then yes, I would say we've thoroughly poked the hornet's nest."
"That thing would sell for a million credits easy," I said, kicking at a loose pebble. "But the risk of moving it around is too high. Probably better to strip out any valuable parts and leave the rest for Senator Bail to handle. Who knows when the rebellion might need one for infiltration, and I'm pretty sure he has more than a dozen places to hide things from the Empire's sight."
The word hung in the air.
Rebellion.
Obi-Wan's attention sharpened. Not obviously—his posture didn't change—but I felt the shift in focus like a subtle pressure.
"Rebellion," he repeated.
"Ah." I scratched the back of my neck. "I had faint visions of the future. Nothing too concrete, but from what I pieced together, it's a coalition of various small rebel cells, networks, and senators that will come together eventually. Bail seemed like the type who'd be involved in something like that. When I talked to him earlier, I figured he should know some things that might help."
Obi-Wan absorbed this without comment.
"Hmm," he said after a moment. "Speaking of spare parts, I suppose I'll have to clean up all the junk machinery you've left behind by myself. I wonder if the Jawas would be interested in any of it."
I froze mid-step.
"Hey, not everything there is junk—wait." My brain caught up with my mouth. "Why would you be cleaning it up? I mean, I'd still be using it for other stu—"
I stopped.
Obi-Wan was looking at me with an expression that could only be described as patiently knowing.
The realization landed like a speeder crash.
"You already knew," I said flatly.
"I didn't know, precisely." Obi-Wan's beard twitched. "I had a feeling. Your reaction just confirmed it."
"Oh, goddammit."
I ran a hand down my face.
"And here I thought I was hiding it well."
"You were," Obi-Wan said, not unkindly. "For a child."
"That's not the compliment you think it is."
"It wasn't meant to be."
I groaned and let my head fall back, staring up at the canopy of leaves above us.
"How long?" I asked.
"Since Tatooine," Obi-Wan said. "Perhaps earlier."
I groaned again, louder this time.
"You didn't say anything."
"I was waiting to see if you would."
I looked at him, caught somewhere between embarrassment and relief. Part of me had been dreading this conversation for days. Building arguments in my head, rehearsing justifications, preparing for the inevitable moment when I'd have to convince a Jedi Master to let a ten-year-old walk off into the galaxy alone.
And here he was, already three steps ahead of me.
Obi-Wan's expression had softened slightly.
"Ezra," he said, "you came to me with a very clear purpose. You told me from the beginning that you couldn't stay waiting while hope grew up and the Empire brought destruction to the galaxy. That part hasn't changed, has it?"
I shook my head slowly.
"No," I admitted. "It hasn't."
"Then why would I expect you to remain on Tatooine?"
The question sat there.
I didn't have a good answer.
"I thought..." I trailed off, searching for the right words. "I thought you'd try to stop me. Or at least argue against it."
Obi-Wan's mouth twitched faintly. "Would it have worked?"
"No."
"Then why waste both our time?"
I let out a breath that was half laugh, half exasperation.
"You're really just going to let me walk off into the galaxy alone?"
Obi-Wan's expression turned serious again.
"No," he said. "I'm going to trust that the Force brought you to me for a reason. That it showed you what it showed you for a reason. And that when you leave, you'll do so with the training, the tools, and the judgment necessary to survive what comes next."
He paused.
"You're not a child who needs to be sheltered, Ezra. You've already demonstrated capabilities beyond that. Trying to cage that would only hurt you."
The words landed harder than I expected.
I looked down at my hands.
"I'm still ten," I said quietly.
"You are," Obi-Wan agreed. "And you're also more than that."
---
We resumed walking.
The path led us toward the lake, the ground sloping gently downward through thinning trees. Moonlight grew brighter as the canopy opened up, painting everything in shades of silver and shadow.
"I know you are headstrong," Obi-Wan said after a while. "And not afraid to throw yourself into conflict. But I also know you're clever enough to see beyond just that."
I glanced at him sidelong.
"That's why I would advise you to choose your fights very carefully." His voice carried the weight of someone who had learned this lesson the hard way. "You have trained for less than a tenth of a fraction of the time most Jedi have. While your innate skills and aptitude have accelerated your learning, know that talent alone often loses to time and experience. Your enemies will have both on their side."
The trees fell away entirely as we reached the lake's edge.
The water stretched out before us, impossibly still. The moon hung fat and bright overhead, its reflection so perfect that looking at the lake was like staring into a doorway to another sky.
"Do not delude yourself into thinking there aren't Inquisitors more skilled than the one you faced," Obi-Wan continued. "Nor that you can handle a battalion on your own. Hundreds of knights and masters died at the Battle of Geonosis because of mere blaster bolts."
I nodded slowly.
"And not just your enemies," Obi-Wan added. "Pay scrutiny to your allies as well. The wounds in the back dig deeper than those in front." His voice dropped, carrying something old and painful. "It was treachery from the trusted that brought the fall of the Jedi Order. I hope you take that as a lesson."
I didn't have a response to that.
We stood at the lakefront in silence. The water lapped softly against the shore. Somewhere across the lake, a night bird called out and received no answer.
Obi-Wan's gaze had drifted to the horizon, his profile carved in moonlight. He looked older than usual. Tired in a way that had nothing to do with the physical.
"I asked something of Bail earlier today," he said quietly.
I turned my head slightly but didn't interrupt.
"A question that has been eating away at me for a long time." His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I feared getting its answer more than I cared to admit."
There was only few thing that could rattle Obi-Wan Kenobi like this and I had an premonition of which one currently had.
"Vader," Obi-Wan said, and the name dropped into the silence like a stone into still water. "The face behind that name has haunted my dreams far more than I can count in the last decade. Bail confirmed the existence of someone by that name near the Emperor. Not part of any official order, but with authority second only to Palpatine himself."
I swallowed. "He knew about him?"
"He had strong suspicions based on that name." Obi-Wan's voice had gone distant. "He is one of the few who knew about... his fall. But he hesitated on confirmation. Perhaps for my sake. Perhaps for his own."
A pause stretched between us.
When Obi-Wan spoke again, his voice had changed. Softer. Like he was reciting something from a very long time ago.
"Anakin Skywalker was the name he went by once," he said. "My master found the boy on Tatooine. He was drawn to him by the boy's unusually strong connection with the Force—and the claim that he had no father."
I listened.
"My master, Qui-Gon Jinn, was something of an outlier compared to most Jedi. He let himself be led by the guidance of the Living Force rather than the Order's teachings." A faint smile crossed Obi-Wan's face, barely visible in the moonlight. "He declared the boy to be the Chosen One. Someone who would bring balance to the Force."
I couldn't help myself.
"Not to sound rude," I said, "but didn't he consider that maybe mama Skywalker just bonked someone and didn't want to tell? I mean, being a single mom isn't exactly something to brag about in most cultures."
Obi-Wan made a choking sound.
He turned to look at me with an expression that was equal parts scandalized and grudgingly amused.
"Where did you even learn those words?" he demanded. "Is that something boys your age should know?"
I shrugged. "You haven't been to the streets lately. Kids younger than me know worse."
"What is happening to this generation," Obi-Wan muttered, shaking his head.
As if can't be bothered to engage on it any further, he let out a breath and looked back toward the lake.
"As I was saying. Anakin had his own troubles, and the Jedi Order wasn't particularly receptive of him. 'Too old to begin training,' they said." Obi-Wan's voice carried a hint of old frustration. "But the Council had more trust in my master's judgment than they had distrust in the boy."
"He must have been an amazing man," I said quietly.
"That he was." Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "Many times I have found myself wondering... what if he hadn't died? Instead of me being left to train Anakin, had Master Qui-Gon trained him, would things have turned out differently?"
For a moment, I saw it. The weariness behind the composure. The man who had carried this question for over two decades, turning it over and over like a stone worn smooth by constant handling.
"We won't ever know the answer to what-ifs," I said. "But I'm sure he thought it through before choosing who would carry on after him. I'm sure that person did the best he could with what he had."
Obi-Wan laughed.
It wasn't a big laugh—just a quiet exhale through the nose—but there was genuine humor in it. The absurdity of a tiny boy trying to comfort him about failures older than the boy's entire lifetime.
"Oh, yes, he did," Obi-Wan said. "But men are creatures of mistake. And I made mine. Some intentional, some not." His gaze dropped to the water. "I wasn't able to become the master he could fully trust to handle his troubles. I wasn't able to provide the necessary support. And the Jedi Order..." He paused. "We blinded ourselves. We allowed a Sith Lord to fester so near to him, manipulating him for years, and we saw nothing."
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
There was so much I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him about the visions of Padmé dying, about Palpatine's decades of careful manipulation, about how Anakin had been an idiot at the worst possible moments in ways that weren't Obi-Wan's fault and couldn't have been predicted or prevented.
But what would that change?
What Obi-Wan said wasn't untrue. The Order had failed. The support systems had failed. And somewhere in that web of failures, a boy with too much power and not enough guidance had fallen into the waiting arms of a monster who'd been grooming him since childhood.
Obi-Wan had done his best.
His best hadn't been enough.
Both of those things could be true at the same time.
"You know," I said slowly, picking my words with care, "the way I see it... you're not the one who pulled him down. You're the one who tried to hold him up. The fact that you couldn't doesn't mean you did wrong. It means the forces pulling the other direction were stronger."
Obi-Wan didn't respond immediately.
"And for what it's worth," I continued, "the person who manipulated him spent literally decades building that trap. He had access, authority, and information you didn't. He could offer things you couldn't. Blaming yourself for not outmaneuvering someone who had every advantage is..." I searched for the right word. "Unreasonable."
"Unreasonable," Obi-Wan repeated.
"Yeah. Completely unreasonable." I kicked at the grass near the water's edge. "Doesn't mean it's wrong to feel it. Feelings don't follow logic. But it's worth remembering that you were fighting a rigged game from the start."
The lake rippled softly.
Obi-Wan was quiet for a long moment.
"You speak as though you've seen it," he said finally.
"Fragments," I admitted. "Nothing complete. Just... pieces. Enough to know it was more complicated than anyone being able to prevent alone."
More silence.
Then Obi-Wan let out a breath and some of the tension drained from his frame.
"Thank you, Ezra."
I blinked. "For what?"
"For not telling me it wasn't my fault." He glanced at me with something like wry appreciation. "That would have been easier to dismiss."
I huffed a laugh despite myself. "Yeah, well. I figured you've heard that one before."
"More times than I can count."
We stood there together, watching the moon's reflection wobble on the water.
Somewhere behind us, a night bird finally answered its companion. The night had reached its zenith but I felt that there was a lot of things that i might have to discuss with Master, and many more that he needed to say...
___
[Next Day Morning]
Something heavy landed on my chest.
My brain registered the impact through several layers of sleep fog before concluding that it probably wasn't an assassination attempt. Assassins generally didn't come with the sound of indignant huffing and the faint scent of expensive soap.
"Wake up."
The voice was imperious. Familiar. Extremely unwelcome at whatever ungodly hour this was.
I attempted to roll over.
The weight on my chest shifted and grabbed my shoulders.
"I said wake UP!"
The shaking started. It was vigorous, determined, and accompanied by the kind of frustrated noises that suggested this wasn't the first attempt at rousing me.
My eyelids cracked open approximately two millimeters.
Leia Organa's face hovered about six inches from mine, her expression twisted into something between royal frustration and genuine annoyance. Her hair was done up in some elaborate style that had probably taken an army of handmaidens to accomplish. Her dress was pristine white and looked like it cost more than everything I'd ever owned combined.
She was also straddling my ribcage like I was a particularly uncooperative bantha.
"Wha—"
"Finally!" She sat back slightly, crossing her arms. "Do you have any idea how long I've been trying to wake you? I knocked. I called your name. I even—" She cut herself off, cheeks coloring slightly. "Never mind what else I tried. The point is, Father sent me to fetch you and you have been completely impossible."
It was morning.
I did not want it to be morning. Especially not after remaining up till nearly 2 or 3 something in the night talking with Obi Wan.
"—and furthermore I have been standing here for nearly four minutes which is four minutes of my life I will never recover—"
"What time is it," I said. My voice came out like gravel scraped across duracrete.
"It is half past the eighth hour and you are late."
"Late for what?"
"For whatever Father needs you for, which he did not specify, which is not my concern because my task was to retrieve you and I have done so and you are being extremely difficult about it!"
She punctuated this by shaking my shoulders again with renewed vigor. I could feel the individual pressure points of her tiny fingers digging into the fabric of my sleep shirt, each one broadcasting righteous indignation.
Obi-Wan and I had talked until well past midnight. We'd covered everything from Vader to the rebellion to ancient Jedi temples he wanted me to seek out. My body had hit the bed sometime around two in the morning and immediately dropped into the kind of sleep that bordered on clinical unconsciousness.
It had been maybe six hours. On the softest bed I'd encountered in either lifetime.
Six hours was not enough.
"Okay," I mumbled. "Okay. I'm up. Get off."
"You are not up. You are laying on the bed! These are fundamentally different states."
I reached up with one hand, got a grip around her midsection, and lifted her off me entirely. She came away from my chest like she weighed nothing—which, to be fair, she basically did. I deposited her standing on the floor beside the bed with about as much effort as moving a pillow.
"Hey—!"
I sat up, rubbed my face with both hands, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cold against my bare feet. Arachnae's charging indicator glowed steady green in the corner, and the stuffed tooka had migrated to the top of her chassis at some point during the night.
Leia was staring at me.
I squinted at her through the fog of insufficient sleep. "What?"
"Were you always this tall?"
I gave her a side-eye while stretching my arms overhead, jaw cracking open in a yawn wide enough to fit a fist inside.
"Newsflash, Princess. When you exercise every day and eat properly, your body grows. Revolutionary concept, I know. Might be hard to grasp from inside a palace."
Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
"I have simply not yet had my growth spurt," she declared with the absolute conviction of someone who had never been wrong about anything in her entire life. "You just wait. When I am grown, I will be so much taller than you that you will need a stepladder to look me in the eye."
"Sure."
"I will!"
"I believe you."
"You do not. I can tell from your face."
"My face is half asleep. It doesn't have opinions yet."
She huffed, spun on her heel with practiced theatrical precision, and marched toward the door. Her hand was on the frame when she paused just long enough to deliver her parting shot over one shoulder.
"Father is waiting for you."
The door closed behind her with exactly the right amount of force to communicate displeasure without being undignified enough to qualify as a slam. Impressive technique, honestly. Someone had trained that girl in the art of passive-aggressive door operation from birth.
I sat on the edge of the bed for another few seconds, letting consciousness finish loading.
Then I stood up...and nearly stumbled before I caught myself on the bedpost. Oh boy, that would have hurt bad.
Not just physically, but emotionally too. Training to be a Jedi and stumbling first thing in the morning.
I shook it off and headed for the bathroom.
There was a lot of stuff to do today, and not to mention, bid farewell to Master too. It took my approximately 2 minutes to brush teeth and 5 to shower.
Then I finished getting dressed and felt it was too early for whatever that was.
Now. Where exactly had Bail asked me to come?
Leia, in her infinite generosity, had neglected to mention that part.
"Huh," I said to the empty room. "That was helpful."
----
Next chapter gonna have an rebellion green twillek on the fields hoho.
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