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“Mand’alor, if you don’t stop vibrating, you’re gonna phase through your seat.”
Din looked up from his clenched hands in his lap just in time to catch Jaster cuffing Myles over the back of the buy’ce as Arla and Jango snickered behind their gloved hands.
“I’m not… Vibrating!” Jaster protested, the sheer amount of indignation and offence in his voice sending amusement bubbling in Din’s chest, prompting him to let out a shaky breath as the tightly coiled anxiety clawing at his throat eased just a little at his Cyare’s ridiculousness.
“Buir?” Din jolted as a small, warm hand settled gently on his arm, snapping his attention to the other end of the transport shuttle, meeting Obi-Wan’s concerned turquoise eyes as his Ad leaned across the shuttle with a squirming Grogu cradled in his arms. “Are you OK?” Obi-Wan asked softly from his position at Jango’s side.
“Uh-“ Din coughed subtly as his voice broke. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine, kid.” Din clasped a hand over Obi-Wan’s giving it a gentle squeeze before reaching out to stroke lightly at one of Grogu’s ears, earning a delighted coo in return, the soft sound easing the tight ball of tension in his chest at the thought of their impending destination.
Obi-Wan leaned back and raised a single eyebrow, nailing Din with the most unimpressed look that he had ever witnessed. Grogu shifted in Obi-Wan’s arms, attempting to mimic Obi-Wan’s stare, but only succeeded in scrunching his tiny face up so much that it looked like a particularly wrinkly cabbage.
The sight of his two Ade’s antics made Din snort voluntarily in amusement, the stifling sense of impending doom at their mission easing slightly in the face of his aliit.
The escalating yells and snickers from the other end of the shuttle halted abruptly before a light pressure against Din’s side sent him rocking towards Obi-Wan and Grogu, the clink of beskar on beskar instantly putting his mind at ease.
“It’ll be alright, Cyare. I know you’re nervous, but we’ll get through it together like we always do.” Jaster murmured softly against Din’s audial, telegraphing his movements as he slowly settled an arm around Din’s shoulders, pulling him gently into his side before hooking his fingers gently under Din’s jaw and tilting his head up to lock eyes with Din through his visor, warm brown eyes crinkling softly at the edges with his comforting smile.
“U-Uh…” Din stuttered, face flushing at the sight of Jaster’s handsome face so close to his, even with the barrier of his helmet between them. Even after the months that they had been together, Din still had no clue why a man as amazing as Jaster would ever want some like… Well, like Din. Unable to take Jaster’s adoring smile any longer, Din tugged his chin out of Jaster’s hold and looked down, cheeks burning furiously, words caught in his throat.
“Hey,” Jaster’s arm tightened around Din’s shoulders, sending a shiver down his spine as Jaster gently touched his fingers to Din’s chin once again, tilting his head back up and not letting him hide. “I can feel that you’re thinking badly about yourself again. We’ve talked about this Din, you are worthy of love-“
“Bleurghhhh.”
Din’s shoulders climbed up towards his ears, face flushing even more as Arla’s fake gagging echoed by Jango’s faint snickers and Grogu’s coos echoed off the durasteel walls of the transport shuttle, the fact that they had an audience suddenly very apparent. Pressing his lips tightly together in embarrassment, Din began to shift away from Jaster, shame churning in his, only to let out a tiny squeak as Jaster’s arm tightened around his shoulders, hand shifting from his shoulder to the back of his neck in a sinuous slide that left a pleasantly burning trail in its wake. Jaster’s hand came to rest on the back of Din’s neck, the firm touch grounding him like no other as Jaster tugged Din’s head forward until Jaster’s bare forehead pressed against Din’s helmet in a gentle kov’nyn.
The warmth from Jaster’s hand seeped into the back of Din’s neck, even through both the thick material of Jaster’s glove and Din’s kute, causing Din to melt forwards into Jaster’s broad chest at the contact as Jaster’s steady and grounding force-presence soothed the frayed edges of Din’s mind, Grogu and Obi-Wan’s bonds glimmering softly in the soothing quiet of Din’s mind.
Various cheers and wolf-whistles erupted around the small shuttle, accompanied by Obi-Wan’s quiet chuckle, prompting Jaster to slide his other hand away from Din’s chin and present the other occupants of the shuttle with a single finger salute carefully angled away out of Grogu’s sight.
After a few more moments basking in each other’s presence, Jaster reluctantly pulled away, hand trailing down Din’s neck and arm as he leaned away. “Now Cyar’ika, what are you so nervous about? We’re only going on a courtesy visit to Ob’ika’s other Aliit on Coruscant. They’re gonna love you, especially since you’ve got this and its passenger.” Jaster leaned away to gently flick at the Darksaber at Din’s waist, chuckling lowly as the ‘saber strained against Din’s belt to press into his hand like an affectionate tooka, Obi-Wan’s Darksaber doing the same from the other end of the shuttle with a tangible wave of affection and agreement.
“U-Uh, yeah… Right.” Din stammered, flush climbing up the back of his neck at the combined focus of his Aliit, even as his mind raced through all the different ways his and his aliit’s visit could go spectacularly wrong as everything in his life seemed to do. All the ways he could make things go wrong… What reason would the Jetiise have for liking Din? Din with his clumsy child-like attempts at using the force, even with Yan and his Ori’Babuir’s instruction. His Ori’Babuir had taken to telling Din how well he was adapting to the fast transition from seemingly force-null to extremely force sensitive, even Yan had said things along the same line, in his own round-about way through biting critique, but Din knew that they were only saying that to make him feel better about his utter incompetence. Even Grogu, a literal Ikaad, was better in wielding the force than Din’s own clumsy attempts-
“Ow!” Din winced as the Darksaber at his hip lifted itself from his hip and swung down in a painful smack against his thigh, the ring of beskar on beskar echoing through the transport shuttle as a phantom weight in the shape of a hand landed heavily on his shoulder with a squeeze, a presence forming in the empty seat beside him.
Even though the presence remained silent, Din could feel the almost tangible wave of good-natured consternation and sheer affection vibrating through the air, and from the way Obi-Wan and Grogu had perked up, they could feel it too.
“Hi Ori’Babuir.” Obi-Wan said quietly, a small smile on his face as he leaned into Jango’s side, earning an amused snort from both him and his Ori’Babuir as Jango’s face turned fire-engine red.
“Aww Jan’ika~” Arla cooes teasingly, reaching up to pinch one of her vod’ika’s bright red cheeks between her gloved fingers and snickering at the resulting offended squawk and windmilling arm as Jango painstakingly kept his torso still so as to not disturb Obi-Wan.
“Alright Ad’ike.” Jaster straightened up, his ‘Mand’alor voice’ cracking harshly through the air. Din felt a warm burst of affection bubble up in his chest at the sight of the tiny smile tugging at the edges of Jaster’s lips, betraying the Man’alor’s stern demeanour.
“We are here for a goodwill visit to Ob’ika and Grog’ika’s Jetti Aliit. I will not tolerate any foolish behaviour that would embarrass either Din or myself.” Jaster ordered, eyes narrowed as he stared unerringly towards Jango and Arla, who hurriedly shifted away from each other, ‘innocent’ looks on their faces even as Grogu giggled in delight at the two’s antics.
“Yeah right. You just want in to the Jetti’s archive.” Myles drawled from his position slumped against the walls of the shuttle, an Osik-eating grin on his face as he waggled his eyebrows at Jaster. “Is that why you bagged the first Mandalorian Jetti in millennia, Jaster? Just to get your nerdy self into the Jetti’s legendary archives?”
Din’s shoulders shook in tiny jolts of silent laughter as Jaster stuttered, a faint flush rising in his cheeks as he jerkily slammed his helmet back down over his head, hiding his reddening face. “O-Of course not!” Jaster protested, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. “Though if it’s on the table…”
Unable to hold in his laughter anymore at the sight of his Cyare’s adorable nervousness, Din broke out into tiny, rough chuckles, the soft noise seeming cutting through the air.
Din was so absorbed in his own mirth that he didn’t notice the shuttle going silent as the other occupants stared slack-jawed at Din’s unabashed, if muted joy, the quiet snuffles of Din’s laughter easing a light tension that the other occupants of the shuttle hadn’t even noticed.
“Kriffinf hell… I’m sorry Mand’alor, but if you hadn’t finally Mando’d up and got him as you Cyare, I totally would.”
“Don’t you dare Myles. My poor little Vod’ika spent way too many hours embarrassing himself infront of Ayet for you to swoop in like that. Poor Jango would never recover~”
“Patu!”
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“Greetings Mand’alor, welcome to Coruscant.”
Din squinted as the sudden shaft of light streaming through the opening shuttle doors almost blinded him, even through his tinted visor, feeling Arla and Jango wince at his side. After taking a moment to blink the dancing spots out of his eyes, Din was met with the sight of two Jedi waiting in front of the landing ramp, one a serious looking Korrun male with his hands clasped loosely in front of him and the other was-
“Greetings, Mand’alor. Younglings. Apologise for our oversight, we do.”
What.
The air in Din’s lungs rushed out in a whoosh at the sight of what looked to be- Old Grogu? Din’s brows climbed up towards his hairline as he frantically glanced between his Ad and serene Jedi Masters, not noticing Obi-Wan’s poorly disguised knowing grin.
The Korun Jetii inclined his head, the sudden movement snapping Din out of his racing thoughts. “We appreciate you making the effort in coming here for this goodwill visit, Mand’alor, and allowing Obi-Wan and initiate Grogu to-“
“Obes!”
The Jetii’s calm voice was drowned out by the enthusiastic yells of a gaggle of Jet’ika popping out from one of the many crates littering the Jedi Temple’s docking bay, including what looked to be a young Mon Calamari, a human male, a Dressellian, and a blonde haired girl followed by a giddy looking Quinlan Vos.
Din felt a warm glow of affection grow in his chest as both of his Ade’s bonds lit up with bright excitement and relief, an intangible tension easing at the sight of the approaching Jet’ike.
“Bant! Reeft! Garen! Siri!” Obi-Wan all but grinned, Grogu cooing delightedly in his arms, tiny clawed hands wiggling at the newcomers at his Ori’Kih’Vod’s sudden bright happiness over their bond.
Din stifled a grin as he spotted Jango clenching his fists at his sides, shoulders creeping up towards the Ad’s ears as he watched Obi-Wan stride forward into the clamouring group of Ade, Vos in particular raising a hand to ruffle Obi-Wan’s red locks roughly before tugging him into a group hug. Arla and Myles had obviously spotted the same thing as they switched to private comms and made obnoxiously loud kissing and faux moaning noises out of earshot of anyone not wearing a helmet, even as their outward appeances remained stoic and professional. Out of the corner of his eye, Din caught sight of Jaster’s shoulders tensing and relaxing as the man struggled not to laugh at his Aliit’s antics over the comms as the Jetiise watched on, clueless.
The Korrun Jetii reached up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, brow furrowed as he let out a deep sigh that Din felt in his bones. “Padawans. I believe that you were asked to wait until after the Mand’alor and his group had gotten settled down before you- Ugh!”
The Korrun Jetti hunched forward slightly as the Old Grogu Jetti lashed out with his gimmer stick with surprising speed, nailing the taller man in the shin.
“Later, we will discuss this, Master Windu.” The Old Grogu Jetti spoke softly, voice low with age, sending a jolt down Din’s spine.
Wait… Their species can talk?! Din thought frantically, white noise erupting in his head as a tiny phantom ‘buir’ floated through his mind. Din spent a few seconds daydreaming to himself about what Grogu’s voice would sound like as he said his first word, a dopey smile spreading across his face before a sudden horrifying thought burst his bubble of peace as the Old Grogu Jetti continued the speak, lashing out with his gimmer stick while the other Jetti- Windu, gracefully sidestepped, albeit with a slight limp.
“Family, they are. Through Obi-Wan, are they not?” The Jetti smirked, wizened brown eyes twinkling in the artificial light of the hangar bay. “New members of my lineage, they are.” The Jetti smirked.
Is he gonna end up talking like that… Din thought hopelessly to himself, a hollow feeling opening up in the pit of his stomach, a headache already forming behind his eyes at the sudden premonition, his Ad’s tiny voice playing through his mind on loop. Tingilaar for dinner, it is, Buir?
I hope it’s not genetic…
“Are you poaching for your lineage again, Master Yoda?” Windu asked primly, voice deadpan with no inflection whatsoever as he neatly stepped out of range of the viper-quick gimmer stick, arms neatly folded behind his back.
Din and the rest of his Aliit, bar Obi-Wan and Grogu who were currently occupied with struggling not to flop to the floor under the combined weight of five giddily enthusiastic Jetti’ike, watched the exchange between the two Master Jetti, heads swivelling back and forth as if watching a tennis match before the two visibly composed themselves.
“Padawans Eerin, Tachi, Vos, Muln and Reeft will escort you the quarters that you will be using for the duration of your visit.” Windu said, inclining his head to where the other Jet’ike were still smothering Obi-Wan and Grogu, though at the Master’s attention, they sprung apart, hands fidgeting behind their back as they shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, eyes trained guiltily at the ground.
“Ah.” Din snickered quietly under his breath as Jaster jolted, Windu’s smooth voice snapping his out of his amused staring. “Of course. On behalf of Mandalore, I thank the Jedi for their hospitality.”
Windu and Yoda nodded their heads in thanks before dipping into a perfectly synchronised bow. “Of course, you will be permitted to explore as you wish, we will be able to assign a Padawan as your guide.”
Din along with Jango, Arla and Myles suppressed a chuckle as Din’s Cyare snapped to attention, visor trained unerringly on the Jetii. Din’s audial crackled as Arla and Myles’ voices played over their private comm in unison. “The Jedi archives~”
Din felt a wave of warm affection build in his chest as Jaster practically vibrated in place in excitement, the man’s eagerness visible only to those who knew him well.
The Darksaber at Din’s hip heated up at Windu’s words, humming loudly in place as it began to tug away from Din’s belt in an effort to pull him towards the hangar bay exit. Yaim’am… The ‘saber whispered excitedly, it’s twin at Obi-Wan’s waist humming excitedly in unison.
“Careful Din, he’ll assimilate himself into the shelves if you’re not careful!” Myles said, grin visible in his voice even through the robotic comms.
“If possible Masters, I would like to make a quick stop before I join everyone else in our quarters.” Jaster said serenely, wilfully ignoring the antics of his Aliit and Cyare.
“See?” Jango snorted, finally snapping himself out of his avid stare at Obi-Wan and the other Jet’ike. “I’m sorry, Buir. It’s a threeway marriage with you, Buir, and the Jetti archives.”
Din lost the fight against the urge to chuckle, hurriedly switching to private comms before he let out a soft laugh. A sudden wave of affection and pure love suffused Din’s mind, even through the double layer of beskar’gam that he and Jaster were wearing.
“Of course, Mand’alor.” Windu nodded, Yoda humming amusedly at his side. “One of the Padawans will guide you.” Windu turned to look behind him, arm raised in preparation to point at the chosen Jet’ika, only to stop in his tracks when he was met with the sight of the gaggle of Jet’ike clinging tightly to a sheepish Obi-Wan’s arms, tooka eyes in full force as Grogu cooed delightedly from his position cradled against Obi-Wan’s chest.
Windu let out a long-suffering sigh as Yoda’s low chuckle rose into a full laugh, the ancient Jedi’s small frame shaking with the force of his laugh. “Let the Younglings stay with Padawan Kenobi, we shall, hmm? Guide the Mand’alor, you can. Wait, Master Koon can, until your return.”
Windu tilted his head back and exhaled heavily, closing his eyes as he visibly composed himself. “Of course, Master Yoda. If you would follow me, Mand’alor. Are there any others who wish to accompany you-?”
“No thank you.” Jango, Arla, and Myles said in unison, switching back to public comms as they surreptitiously edged closer to Obi-Wan and the others and away from the minorly vibrating Jaster.
“Uh, yeah. We’d like to get the lay of the land, Mand’alor.” Arla said shakily before switching to private comms. “Besides, if you think that I’m gonna miss the opportunity to embarrass Jango in front of Ob’ika’s friends, then you have another thing coming.”
“Seconded, Jaster.” Myles snorted over private comms, discretely elbowing a tense Jango in the side.
“What about you, Din?” Din felt an involuntary smile cross his face, and warmth bloom in his chest as his Cyare turned back, practically shaking in anticipation. Din would never understand the appeal of sitting still and reading about obscure, dry as the sands of Tattooine history, but if it made his Cyare happy, Din would do it.
With a silent not, Din stepped closer to Jaster’s side, luxuriating in the man’s warm, sun-like rays of happiness and giddy excitement.
“Lead the way.”
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“So Obes! Are you ready for a temple crawl with your Mandos, or have you forgotten about your poor old Temple friends already?”
Obi-Wan felt a burst of affectionate annoyance as Quinlan draped himself across Obi-Wan’s shoulders, the Kiffar guffawing loudly in his ear as he leered openly at Jango. “Oh? What’s this~? Quinaln purred as he lifted Obi-Wan’s arm into the air, studying the blue beskar vambrace fitted snugly over his forearm. “This isn’t Jedi issue!”
Obi-Wan snorted, gently tugging his arm out of Quinlan’s grasp. So far, Obi-Wan had only built up the tolerance for a single piece of beskar armour, any more still blocked his connection to the force. He had no idea how his Buir managed it so easily-
“Yeah Obi!” Bant’s voice halted Obi-Wan in his tracks just as he was about to raise a hand to cuff Quinlan lightly over the back of the head. “How come you never commed? We had to find out from this idiot and the holo-vid he posted to Twi’ter!”
Obi-Wan let out a sigh as Quinlan slid his weight off of Obi-Wan’s shoulders in favour of whining directly into Bant’s unamused face while his other friends hid amused smiles behind their hands, Reeft in particular unable to completely smother his chuckles. Obi-Wan felt a small smile tug involuntarily at the corners of his lips as he watched his friends’ antics, the nervous tension draining from his shoulders as his friends acted completely normal, despite his absence from the temple.
“Hey, you OK?”
Obi-Wan jolted in surprise, as Jango’s low voice sounded right next to his ear, his ret’riduur snaking an arm around Obi-Wan’s waist to tug him gently into his side. “Do you wanna go someplace quieter-?”
“Oh Jango~” Jango’s quiet question cut off with a pained wheeze as Arla elbowed him harshly in the side. “What are you discussing that can’t be heard by everyone else, hmm?” Arla drawled, slinging an arm over Jango’s neck and shaking him roughly to and fro.
“Yeah Alor’ad, what are you getting up to, huh?” Myles sidled up to Obi-Wan’s free side, lifting a gloved hand to flick teasingly at the side of Jango’s helmet. ‘Just ‘cause you got yourself a partner, you’re gonna rub it in our faces, huh? What happened to Vod code huh? Huh?’
The soft at Obi-Wan’s lips widened into a full grin at his second family’s antics, the fuzzy warmth building in his chest bringing a happy flush to his cheeks, even as he viciously smothered any lingering insecurities and doubts about whether Jango really wanted him. Whether Jango really wanted a failed padawan reject whose own Master didn’t even want him-
Gev! Kih’Bu’ad!
Obi-Wan was jolted out of his spiralling thoughts by the Darksaber at his waist resonanting loudly with his Ori’Babuir’s voice, the hilt humming loudly against his thigh. The sudden loud yell in the force stunned any surrounding force sensitives into silence, leaving behind many a dropped jaw in its wake as Jango, Arla and Myles’ visors flitted back and forth in confusion.
“Wa-Was that your ‘saber?” The ringing silence was broken by Garen carefully creeping forward, eyes locked on the now innocently silent Darksaber. “I’ve never heard a ‘saber talk before. It was so loud…”
With the silence broken, Bant and the other Padawans crowded forward, focused on the still Darksaber, shooting questions at a mile a minute, even the various Jedi milling around the hangar bay had begin to edge closer in curiosity.
Obi-Wan felt discomfort crawl up his spine at the feeling of so many eyes on him, not used to such avid attention as he surreptitiously crept away from his friends, retreating further into Jango’s side. Suddenly, Obi-Wan was grateful that he had given Grogu to his Buire before they had left with Master Windu.
“OK! That’s enough!” Quinlan’s voice cut through the deafening onslaught of questions, the sound of Obi-Wan’s best friend easing the tension building in his shoulders. “Come on guys! We’ve got a whole temple to show Obes’ new boyfriend~” Quinlan drawled, shouldering his way through the rest of Obi-Wan’s friends to act as a barrier between Obi-Wan and the lingering stares of the surrounding Jedi.
“Let’s go! First stop, the room of a thousand fountains!”
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“Holy shit…”
Obi-Wan suppressed a laugh as he could practically hear Myles’ jaw hit the floor at the sight of the uncountable sparkling fountains stretching as far as the eye could see, tension from the earlier incident completely vanishing as a wave of heavy nostalgia and contentment emanated from the Darksaber at Obi-Wan’s hip
“I thought they were joking about the ‘thousand fountains…” Arla chipped in, helmet swivelling as she struggled to take in the vast expanse of the room.
Obi-Wan’s Ori’Babuir had been silent for the entirety of the group’s trek through the temple, but began to lift the Darksaber towards a small, non-descript fountain tucked away in the corner, tugging at Obi-Wan’s belt gently.
Babuir…? Obi-Wan asked silently, brows raising in confused question as he was met only with a heady wave of nostalgia and fondness. Huh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this fountain before… Obi-Wan mused to himself, not noticing Jango’s concerned gaze trained between his shoulder blades, too focused on the heady mix of emotions emanating from the Darksaber to concentrate on his ret’riduur.
How old is this fountain? It’s older than any other I’ve seen in here… Obi-Wan mused, trailing his eyes over the pockmarked. Obi-Wan basked in the soothing living force that seemingly poured off of the fountain, studying the cracked sandy stone that peeked out from beneath a thick layer of green and blue fluorescent moss, the Darksaber seeming to grow more and more content the closer Obi-Wan got. Obi-Wan reached out a hand, longing for the feel of soft damp moss under his finger-tips, his Ori’Babuir projecting sheer approval so loudly that-
“Hey! There’s a duel starting in the Salle!”
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Din absentmindedly stroked a gloved fingertip gently down one of Grogu’s large floppy ears, the delighted foundling cooing softly in his lap as Din stared fondly at his Cyare from his position seated across the desk as Jaster conversed avidly with Jocasta Nu. The two had been locked in avid conversation about… The great scourge of Malachor and the effects it had on the surrounding systems’ economies?- for at least the past hour, poring over various texts and pausing only to help the occasional wondering Ad’ika.
The subject itself had absolutely held absolutely no interest for Din, but if it made his Cyare happy, Din would happily sit with Jaster as he attempted to assimilate himself into the archive itself, even if his muscles twitched uneasily at being still for so long.
A particularly enthusiastic arm wave from Jaster drew Din’s attention away from the gurgling Grogu just in time to catch the tail end of Jocasta’s sentence.
“I must say, Mand’alor Mereel, it is an absolute delight conversing with someone so knowledgeable and passionate about their galactic history. Would it be too much to request a repeat meeting?” Jocasta trailed a wrinkled hand absentmindedly down a curling paper page, gaze far away as she was absorbed in her own memories. “The last person I enjoyed talking to like this was Yan, but he doesn’t visit the temple anymore…”
Din jolted in surprise, brows rising incredulously behind his helmet at Jocastas words. There’s no way… That would be to much of a coincidence, even with my luck… “Yan?” Din rasped, throat aching from disuse. “Yan Dooku?”
Jocasta and Jaster looked up from their research in unison, Jocaster’s white brows rising in surprise, twin spots of colour rising high on her cheeks. “Why, yes actually. Do you know him-?”
“Are you the one they call Mand’alor?”
Din and Jaster jolted backwards in their seats at the sudden interruption, one of Din’s hands coming up to cover the vulnerable back of Grogu’s head, and the other reflexively coming to rest on the empty blaster holster at his thigh as his Darksaber screamed-
“Jinn.” Jocasta sneered coldly, any traces of warmth banished from her wizened face as she primly rose from her seat at Jaster’s side, hands folded neatly in front of her. “I believe that you were instructed to remain in your quarters for the duration of the Mand’alor’s visit.”
Din gritted his teeth against a rising wave of sheer and utter rage, lip curling up in a silent snarl as he was met with the sight of the looming ‘Jetii’, the man’s large height casting a deep shadow over the desk. Grogu squirmed in Din’s protective grip, pulling his head out of Din’s hand to hiss threateningly at the newcomer, surprisingly sharp teeth bared in threat.
“The will of the force brought me here. Besides, I think that I have a right to see who my Padawan is currently staying with.” Jinn smiled, infuriatingly placid in the face of Din’s rising ire, blue eyes locked unerringly on Din’s visor.
“Obi-Wan, is not your anything. Jinn.” Jaster spat the name like a curse, gloved hands clenching hard on the polished desk. “Not after what you did to him.”
“Well then, how about a friendly wager? A duel between you and me,” Jinn continued, infuriating smile still plastered on his punchable face, ignoring Jaster’s incredulously muttered ‘friendly?’ “With Obi-Wan as the stakes. If I win-“
“No.” Din rasped, rising sharply from his chair. “Obi-Wan is not some prize to be bartered. He is a sentient.” Din stepped closer, almost chest to chest with the tall karking shabuir. “But I wouldn’t say no to a duel.” Din bared his teeth viciously behind his helmet, silently handing off a squirming Grogu to his Cyare. “I would love the chance to beat you into the ground.”
“Well, we’ll see about that.”
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Din’s head rang from the excited whispers echoing off of the high walls of the training salle, the spacious room packed to the brim with excitedly whispering younglings and stoic yet avidly interested Jetiise.
“The rules are simple. No killing blows, no weapons or hand-to-hand aside from our ‘sabers on the lowest setting. The duel ends at surrender, first blood, or knock out. Use of the force is permitted outside of mind tricks. Do you understand?” Jinn asked, looking down his sizeable nose (which still sat slightly crooked) at Din, voice pitched condescendingly.
Din graced his question with a single nod, drawing the Darksaber from his waist with a single fluid motion, twirling the dark blade up to his face in a graceful arc before spinning it back down to point at the floor in a salute that Yan had drilled into him for countless hours, revelling in the fluid motion as opposed to the grinding of beskar’gam he experienced with any other form.
Jinn’s brows raised in surprise as the whispering tapered off in shock. “Makashi?” Jinn snorted, jerking his blade up vertically to the side of his head and igniting the green blade. “Fitting.”
Lip curling at Jinn’s dismissive tone, Din basked in the Darksaber’s lust for battle as he slowly began to move, him and Jinn circling each other in in slow circles, eyes trained on the shabuir’s form as he picked out opening after opening in the man’s form.
Why is he using that form…? Ataru wasn’t it? Surely it’s a trap? One of his size and age would not be using the most acrobatic form… Din mused to himself, fighting the urge to click his tongue. Even Din’s relatively inexperienced eyes could pick out the errors in the taller man’s form-
Jinn lunged forward suddenly across the ring, bringing his ‘saber down in a wide arc over his head. A wide move that Din easily sidestepped, tucking his free hand behind his back, Din kept his spine straight as he flicked his wrist, sending the blade of the Darksaber swiftly to the side in a crisp arc, effortlessly batting away Jinn’s sloppy strike.
Jinn reared back with a grunt, not expecting the force behind Din’s seemingly effortless strike, before angling his foot outwards and following through with his whole body, spinning outwards to Din’s left and bringing his saber down in a diagonal downward slash across his body, both hands still shaking around the hilt of his lightsaber from the force of Din’s previous blow.
Lips curling in a derisive snort as he easily read Jinn’s telegraphed movements, Din neatly spun to the right, batting away Jinn’s saber once again before bending one knee forward in a lunge, lashing out cleanly with his Darksaber and nailing Jinn neatly in the shoulder with he tip of his blade, sending the Shabuir reeling back with a pained grunt.
The impact of Jinn’s back against the hardwood floors of the training salle echoed throughout the eerily silent room, the spectators shocked into silence as one of their own masters was thoroughly defeated in less than five moves.
“U-uh. The Manda’lor wins by first blood!” the match’s umpire called out, stuttering in surprise as the gathered ad’ike broke out into cheers while their masters followed along with slightly more sedate applause.
Well, that was disappointing. Din scoffed to himself, deactivating his blade and grinning at the ‘saber’s vicious satisfaction as he turned to an elatedly waving Grogu. I would have thought that a master would have lasted longer than tha-
Din’s head jerked to the side as the force screamed with danger, the various spectators breaking out into shocked gasps and protests as Din sensed the rustle of fabric behind him, the hum of a lightsaber setting his teeth on edge.
The heat of the approaching saber cut through even Din’s thick layers of beskar’gam, the world seemingly moving in slow-motion as Jinn’s wavering green blade drew ever closer to the junction between Din’s neck and shoulder.
Suddenly, the world seemed to quieten, the protesting shouts of the surrounding spectators dimming into a low hum as the iridescent cords connecting him to his Ade began to sing, his skin tinging as the air seemed to vibrate with un unseen power.
Din’s hand moved, almost out of his own control, a wave of pure force rippling from his fingertips, vibrating through the air as it slammed into Jinn, sending the man flying clear through the air a full meter off of the ground before he slammed into the far end of the room, crumpling to the floor between a pair of shocked padawans with a choked gasp.
“Buir! Are you Ok?!”
Din’s head jerked to the side, jolting him out of what ever strange trance he had been ensconced in, the world clearing up into its normal muted tones through his visor as his Ad hurriedly pushed through the crowd, Jaster and the others hot on his heels-
“T-That power.”
Jinn’s wheezing voice rose from where the man was crumpled limply to the ground, his chest moving rapidly up and down as he frantically drew breath.
“I’ve never felt the force so strongly before.” Jinn’s head rocked to the side, the man’s half crazed eyes locking with Din’s visor through a curtain of long hair knocked loose from its tie. “You’re the Chosen One.”
“I’m a what?”