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Could it hurt, really, to just hang back and watch for a little while?
Grogu would never even have to see him. Din stood at a distance, hidden behind the trees. Grogu could have a kind of idyllic life here, spend the years of his long childhood learning and playing in nature. He deserved more than Din could give him. The new ship was too small to even walk around in, and if the kid didn’t use up his energy, he got bored. If he got bored, he got into things.
One time he’d worked his way past the lock on the cabinet under the sink and poured an entire bottle of dish soap onto the floor of the razor crest. Din caught him smearing his hands across it and giggling. Maybe he’d liked the slippery feeling, or the sound it made, or the colorful sheen of the liquid when the light hit it just right. At least it had only been dish soap.
The memory, like all his memories of Grogu, was fond but tinged with sadness. He couldn’t help it- he missed him. Din wasn’t a Jedi. He couldn’t just switch off the love he felt for the little boy he’d cared for and protected for so long. Across the river, the Jedi Knight looked up. He seemed to stare not at Din, but into him, which made no sense. Din could only see them clearly because of the long-range filter on his helmet. The Jedi shouldn’t be able to see him at all. Something in his gaze knocked the wind out of his lungs.
The Jedi trained on the opposite side of the river. Grogu was as small as he was the last time Din saw him, shorter even than the tops of Skywalker’s boots. The Jedi master floated a white, round droid in the air, activating it with a flick of the wrist, like a more advanced form of the trick Grogu once practiced with his favorite steel ball.
Din still had that ball in his flightsuit pocket. Somehow it had slipped his mind completely when he saw the child off, and now he carried it like a good luck charm. Grogu might miss it more than he missed Din. He used to clutch it in his hands like it contained the secrets of the universe.
Anyway, that’s when the droid started gunning down his baby. The alarm bell in his head rang loud and clear, drowning out everything else. Din had to get Grogu out of there. He raced through the shallow river, fighting against the shallow water as it tried to slow him down, soaking into his boots and splashing up on his thighs.
Grogu ran, too, but not to meet him- he hadn’t even seen him yet. No, Grogu had to hop from stone to stone to keep from getting shot. The blaster bolts missed, but only barely, burning smoldering black holes of char wherever they landed. Din snatched the pistol from his thigh holster and blasted the damn thing out of the sky. With a crackling hiss of steam, the cold water quenched the red-hot machinery.
To see what had happened, Grogu twisted around on his river stone perch. His eyes locked onto the Mandalorian’s T-Visor, and his face lit up in recognition.
“Batu!” he squealed, stretching his arms out to reach for Din, who was more than happy to oblige. After he holstered his blaster, of course.
He bent down to scoop the little one into his arms, nestling him close. Grogu buried his cheek on Din’s shoulder, tugging the fabric of his cloak in his fists. The cloak wasn’t exactly soft, but it must be more comfortable than solid Beskar plate armor.
“Hi, Grogu.” Din patted the child on the back with two fingers, swaying back and forth. “Told you I’d come see you.”
The baby warbled his response. There were no real words. There never were. Din got the message anyway. “I know. I know. You were very brave.”
Though he’d only meant to visit for a little while, there was no way Din could leave him here now. Wide-open green meadows and forests to frolic in were nice, but at least Din never let anyone shoot at the baby. People tried, sure, but he’d stopped them. Honestly. The bar was lower than the floor.
He marched towards the Jedi Knight as menacingly as anyone soothing a toddler could realistically manage. The seventeen weapons Din carried on his person at all times added something to his intimidation factor, but there are limits to these things.
“Jedi,” he said. “Let’s talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
Din blinked. “You had your robot shoot at him!”
“They were only stun bolts,” Skywalker said.
Those were the words of someone who’d never taken a stun bolt to the face. Stun bolts still hurt pretty bad, and they gave you a killer headache for the next two days. Din had seen the marks the practice droid left on the terrain.
“Great. You weren’t actually trying to kill him. That makes everything better.”
“My first Jedi master gave me the same lesson when I was learning the ways of the Force,” the Jedi said. “Don’t you remember?”
“I don’t know anything about you,” Din said. The Jedi stared off into space, fixated on some point that Din couldn’t see even with the helmet. The look on his face was indescribable.
“I have to remind them.”
Din had no idea who they were, but he also didn’t care. “You told me he’d never be safe unless he went with you.”
Skywalker hummed. “This is the safest place. The only place. He stays. He has to stay. Don’t you see how green it is?”
Was he capable of saying something that made sense? “I don’t care. I’ve seen enough to know this is the last place he should be.”
“Attachment, that’s your attachment speaking,” Skywalker stressed. “Attachment is forbidden, in the way of the old Jedi. I need to live their traditions.”
“Is shooting at toddlers one of your traditions?” Din snapped. He couldn’t cross that line, even if the Jedi’s somewhat-cryptic talk about tradition struck a chord with him.
“You’re still mad about that?”
“Yes!” Din pulled out the present he’d made for Grogu. “It’s a good thing I had this made. He needs protection. From you.”
Every Mandalorian parent worthy of the name taught their child to defend themselves. Protective gear was an important part of that, but children’s armor was very different from the armor meant for adults. The armor that was passed down family lines was meant for those mature enough to understand its weight.
This chainmail shirt was still Grogu’s right.
“Someone gave you armor like that once,” the Jedi said. The Jedi smiled, staring into Din’s bone marrow in that strange way of his. Now that they were up close, Din could see what was off about the man in front of him. He was human, but there was something strange and smooth and unreal about him. Like an image of a man from another place, another time, slapped over the frame of somebody else’s body.
He was so transfixed he couldn’t stop the man before it was too late. The Jedi lunged at him. His stare intensified somehow. The skin around his jaw stretched as he opened his mouth, gaping wide and unhinged. His fist tightened around Din’s wrist.
All the memories of the Mandalorian who rescued him came flooding to the surface out of nowhere. Din was not just remembering him, he was living those memories as they happened. His adopted father, the man who’s face he hadn’t seen until he was dying. He was deeply religious and endlessly patient, with an answer and a story to go along with it for all of Din’s million questions, in those early days.
Din gasped for air and came back to the present day. The air rushed out of his lungs, and a weakness spread throughout his body. Every emotion he’d felt, sucked as he was into his memories, evaporated, and he just felt numb. He still had his memories, of course, but the Jedi had them now too. That meant they could be used.
“What was that?” Din croaked, still feeling shaky on his feet. “What are you, really?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No!”
Lightning crackled in the air, which suddenly turned cold. The wind beat against his cloak and whistled past his helmet. It was a sunny day half a minute ago. Skywalker’s arms spread wide, and he began to float, rising in the air. Din shifted his hold on Grogu so he could tuck him against his side with one arm. With the other he pulled out a blaster. Din needed to leave. Luke Skywalker might’ve been a main character with a name, but he couldn’t let that stop him.
He took a shot. Skywalker’s entire body rippled like a pool of water with a rock dropped in it, but he didn’t react to the pain of a laser bolt through the chest. It went right through Skywalker’s heart and did nothing. Huh.
With every passing moment, it looked less like a living person and more like the hollowed-out husk of one. “This form, Din Djarin, allows me to feed particularly well. But I can take any form I choose.”
Groaning, it shifted into the shape of his dead adopted father, which was just disrespectful. Out of anger, Din took another shot, even though he knew it would do nothing.
“Cool, huh?” The thing said, before changing shape once again. “But I prefer this old Luke Skywalker one. It’s much more versatile. He gets people going like you wouldn’t believe. Those memories taste delicious.”
So that’s what it fed on- memories, or at least emotional ones. “But Luke Skywalker means nothing to me.”
“You think this is about you!” The sound of the laugh came from all directions. “You are not the target. You are irrelevant! They remember Luke Skywalker.”
Now he had to know. “Who’s they?”
“They!" Wow, that sure cleared things up. "The ones who watched Luke as he trained, with an elder of this child’s species, and so the child must train with Luke Skywalker.” An elder of Grogu’s species- tough to imagine. “They watched Luke Skywalker as he practiced with a training remote. And so, the child must dodge its blasts!”
The thing howled, its screams blending in with the wind. This was not how Din had planned for this day to go. He wanted to see how Grogu’s training was going, say hi to him, and make sure he knew he hadn’t abandoned him. He did not plan on getting into a fight with a creepy, memory-eating… ghost? Monster? He could decide what to call it later.
“Grogu doesn’t have to do anything,” Din said. “He’s not just a pawn in your game, okay?”
“Of course, he is. The whole universe is,” the thing said. “Why do you think it was created?”
That was a little philosophical for him. “Not for that. Not for you to just- I don’t know, reenact what happened to that guy who’s face you stole, forever, like a kid playing dolls. You need to move on. Sometimes things change. You pick up the pieces and you move on. Sure, I care about the kid, and I always will, but you’re the one who’s attached, I think.”
This was one of those times where a creature only has what power you let it have over you. Since Din had decided its entire worldview was flawed, it lost its hold. The wind died down, and it slowly sank back to the ground, where it lay still. Din poked it with its boot. It didn’t move and Din decided to let it be.
“Come on, Grogu. You’ll love the new ship.” The pitch of the noise Grogu made lifted at one end, like a question.
Din hit the comm button on his wrist gauntlet. The holographic image of Boba Fett glowed blue moments later. “Hey. I’m on my back to Tatooine. There’s been a slight change in plans. Not bad, no, just- well. You’ll see.”