Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

Master Satoru hushes him softly, a hand held out behind his back to keep Megumi sheltered against a gnarled tree. “You always have a bad feeling about everything.”

The muggy planet is silent. Weirdly silent. No animals call from trees or scuttle through the mud they’re currently crouched in. The hair on the back of his neck has yet to settle, the Force prickles with unease. 

“And how often am I right?” Megumi hisses. Master Satoru ignores him in favor of withdrawing his lightsaber from his robes, the blade hums to life, casting ghastly purple over green water. He moves too fast for Megumi to register, swinging his blade in a wide delicate arch cutting down the Noghri that had been ready to strike from a low hanging branch above them. It flickers into existence when it hits the water, gasping in pain. Master Satoru levels his blade at its neck.

“Here’s your bad feeling Padawan.” Master Satoru turns to look at him, a smirk curling his lips. “You should have been able to feel him.”

Megumi stands, pulling out his own lightsaber, refusing to look his master in the face. Scowling he wrings out his wet, stinking robe; he’s starting to shake from the cold. “Sorry Master.”

He gets waved off, his master  turning his attention back to the trembling creature at the end of his blade. “Tell me Targo Mi, why are you killing Force sensitive children?”

The creature bares its teeth at him. “It’s not me. I’m just getting a fat chunk of credits.”

Satoru hums, sheathing his blade he clips it to his belt and reaches down to heave the creature up. “I had a suspicion.”

“Master, what are you going to do with him?” Megumi asks, teeth clattering together. 

“We’ll take him back to the council.”

Megumi bites the inside of his cheek, his own blade is still humming and  Satoru slides it back into its sheath with a flick of his wrist. “Peace, Padawan,” he says softly, “it will be my burden to bear. Now help me with him.”

“They’re going to take me from you,” Megumi grits once they’re back in their ship, humming through hyperspace towards Coruscant.  

“No, they won’t,” Satoru says quietly. He’s at the controls, robe wrapped around his arms, face turned towards whirling blue. “You are not a student under the temple on Coruscant. They have no power over you.”

“But they do over you,” Megumi says, “You’ve gone directly against the council three times now.”

Master Satoru laughs, “Oh Megs, I have gone against the council far more times. I have calmed down considerably now that you are here, my dearest Padawan.”

“So why do you insist on creating tension?”

The smile on Master Satoru’s face falls off, “Children are dying, Megumi. I cannot stand by while the council denies this.”

Megumi folds his arms over his chest, glaring at the floor. “I know. But the tension is just too much sometimes. What if they cast you from the council.”

Standing, his Master crosses the small space to the bench Megumi is sitting on. He sits next to him, body heat leeching off of him that Megumi drifts slightly towards. “I think I would consider that a blessing if I’m being honest. I hate Coruscant.”

Megumi knows. He’d been on enough missions to Coruscant, sat through the aftermath of enough council meetings to understand with striking clarity how much his master hates the city. 

“I want to go back to Lothal,” Satoru groans, thunking his head back against the wall. The wrappings around his eyes are speckled with bits of green from the marshy planet and he sags with an exhaustion Megumi only notices in the quiet of their ship after the adrenaline and annoyance spurred on by missions fade. 

“Me too, Master,” Megumi assures. 

“Come on Megs,” Master Satoru says, reaching over to flick him on the forehead. “You can knock it off with that ‘Master’ shab. I don’t like it.” 

“It’s proper,” Megumi mutters. “I’m your Padawan.”

“You’re also my kid,” Master Satoru says. “You’ve known me as Satoru longer than you’ve known me as a Master.”

This isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation. Megumi wouldn’t mind calling Satoru, Satoru and nothing more. But he’s already strange in the eyes of other Padawans he sometimes trains with at the Coruscant temple, so he wants to view his master the same way they view their’s. His childhood in the grasslands of Lothal hadn’t been devoid of the Force, if anything it had been a main staple of his existence for as long as he can remember; and yet he struggles to harness it like his peers. Sometimes, bitterly, he wonders if it’s Satoru’s fault. The causal way he treats Megumi, the casual way he treats the Force festers frustration in his rhythm. 

“You’re a master Jedi,” Megumi says. “I’ll call you as such.”

Master Satoru pokes his tongue out but lets it go, swaying to his feet again to check the nav screen. “Do you still have that comm?”

Megumi digs it out of the inner pocket of his robes, checking it over for obvious damage before floating it over to Master Satoru’s waiting hand.

“I’m not sure we’ll be able to reach anyone from here," Satoru says, flipping it between his fingers, “But we’ll have to call Kento when we reach the atmosphere.” He grins, “His tip was perfect.”

“How far are we from the planet?” Megumi asks. He doesn’t want to strap in yet, antsy, hyper aware of the prisoner they have cuffed in the tiny hallway beyond the door to the cockpit. 

“We’ll drop out of hyperspace soon. I’ll let you know.” Master Satoru tucks the comm into his own pocket and collapses bonelessly into the pilot's chair, yawning wide. “Civilization soon, even if it isn’t our dear Lothal.”

“Should you sleep?” Megumi asks, reaching down to touch his lightsaber. His master doesn’t answer, face tucked down into the bunched hood of his white outer robe. Sighing Megumi sits back to watch the door. 

Coruscant Prime is edging over the side of the planet when they finally pull into one of the landing platforms at the Jedi temple. Master Satoru arranges his robes neatly as he steps out of the ship before Megumi, leading their find down the steps.

“Still flying a light freighter, Master?” 

Master Satoru grins at the protocol droid that teeters up to them. “That I am ICH-J1. I’ve grown very fond of her.” He leans forward, cupping a hand around his mouth like Megumi won’t hear him not whisper. “I don’t think my codes are up to well, code. So mind keeping it on the down low that I’ve parked her here?”

The droid starts, taking a step back. “Master if your ship isn’t up to code I’m afraid it can’t stay here.”

“Oh come on.” Master Satoru croons. “We won’t be here for long, and you owe me one.”

“I’m a droid sir. I can’t owe anyone anything. At least I don’t think I can.”

Megumi clears his throat. They have an angry Noghri in poor restraint in desperate need to be dealt with.  Master Satoru hums, flourishing a hand at the Noghri. 

“Right. Is master Yaga in the temple right now?” Master Satoru asks. “I would like to see him as soon as possible.”

“Give me a moment please,” ICH-J1 chirps before turning and toddling away. Master Satoru turns to Megumi as soon as the droid has disappeared into a side door. 

“Let's go. It’ll take him forever to get back. I can feel Master Yaga anyways.”Satoru sweeps past Megumi, robes billowing out behind him on highly polished floors. He’s expected to follow so he does, rolling his eyes at the dramatic show. The bottoms of his own robes are too stiff to do much but drag pathetically along the floor making crisp swishing sounds when he walks, his stride fast to keep up with Master Satoru’s long gait.

The temple feels abandoned. The lights turned low, halls free of tumbling younglings and bustling Jedi. Their steps echo as they climb the stairs to the council chamber. Master Satoru stops at a door along the window lined hall to the council room, knocking twice before typing in the entrance code. He peers into the dark room, moonlight and the artificial orange of skyscrapers opposite of the temple, spill into the emptiness. Megumi can smell neglect and dust.

“Knight Okkotsu isn’t back from Dantooine yet.”

Stepping back, Master Satoru smiles tightly, folding his hands in his robes. “Ah, Master Mei Mei.” He bows, “I didn’t expect to see you here so late.”

Megumi bows quickly too, hands fumbling in his sleeves. “Master.”

“I had to come by and drop off an artifact I found on Dathomir.” 

Tension ripples along Satoru’s spine. “What were you doing on Dathomir?”

Master Mei Mei’s lips go tight and she eyes the Noghri. “Perhaps that is something to be discussed later. Who is this?”

“Ah, this is Targo Mi. He’s an assassin, I’ve been tracking him for months.” Satoru says lightly. 

“What business do the Jedi have with assassins?” Master Mei Mei sniffs. “This isn’t work for you Satoru.”

“I think it is work for me.” Master Satoru says lightly, “I think it should be work for all of us.”

Megumi shuffles uncomfortably when the other master turns her gaze on him. She’s always been a strange Master in comparison to the others. Her Padawan had been killed in some strange accident a few years ago, pushing her already strained relationship with the Jedi council to the extreme, so she no longer sits with the masters. No longer trains any of the younglings who want for a master. She spends her time wandering the galaxy looking for something. Megumi had been at the funeral, had stood next to Knight Okkotsu, clinging like a child to his dark robes as he watched the casket burn. So small in comparison to the brazier. Master Satoru had been standing at the front of the room, face hard and cast in flickering shadow. He looked terrifying. Angry in a way that filled the entire room. It pushed against the walls, brought a gloom so heavy over everyone that some people were on their knees. People thought he had lost his own Padawan. The mere idea had Master Satoru baring his teeth in defiance and pulling Megumi into his side with a protective hand.

“I’ve never lost a Padawan. And I never will.”

Megumi remembers how hard his tone had been. Like tempered beskar. Later the Jedi council had pulled him away from Megumi into the council room where he was kept for several hours. When he came out, Megumi had been sitting on the floor outside of the council room, a small gathering of birds around his legs; they had fluttered in through the naked windows to settle into his hands and lap, reacting to the stress he was undoubtedly bleeding into the Force. He’d scrambled to his feet, took in perfect robes and the stoic face. Master Satoru had held out a hand, and Megumi, who was ten at the time, and thought himself not a child, took it. 

Things changed then. And Megumi is still trying to figure out what exactly.

 “Your Padawan looks exhausted, Satoru,” Master Mei Mei says. She reaches out like she’s going to touch Megumi before dropping her hand when he steps back. 

Satoru hums. “Yes. It was a long mission. I hope that I will not be kept long tonight. Targo Mi here is going to help with that.”

She makes a quiet noise in the back of her throat before turning away. “Force be with you.”

Satoru bows again, “Thank you. And to you.”

The door to Knight Okkotsu’s room slides closed, left open too long. Megumi lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

“I’m not tired, master,” he says to Master Satoru’s back. He’s taken Targo Mi from Megumi, pushing him towards the large doors at the end of the hall. 

“You are,” Master Satoru says gently. “And that’s fine. We’ll sleep in actual beds tonight. You’ve done well, and I’m sorry to have kept you from Lothal for so long.”

Better to be with Master Satoru being useful than being stuck in the temple. Megumi nods quietly in response, fixing his attire one last time before the doors to the council room slide open. 

“Master Gojo.” The rasping voice of one of the older council members grates across the room. Master Yaga, sitting seiza on a plush round chair next to a hologram map, drags an exhausted hand down his face “What are you doing here?”

Satoru shoves Targo into the middle of the room. “I need you to listen to me.”

“Satoru.” Yaga’s voice is exhausted, tired from hearing this same argument over and over again  “There is nothing we can do.”

Megumi has taken refuge by the door. Standing quietly in the shadows cast long across the room, ready to run, or jump into a fight if he is needed. The implications of his own flight or fight are not lost to him either, but the Force moves like an angry sea around Master Satoru when he stands before the council and speaks to walls. 

“Why?” Master Satoru snaps. “I have found the assassin who has been killing babies across the galaxy. Force sensitive babies, Yaga. We are the only people who can do something about it.”

“These are bold claims you are making.” A master says, Megumi cannot remember his name, he’s bald though and carries a ridiculous saber. 

“I have been tracking him for a year at this point. He confessed to working for someone else when we finally got our hands on him.”

“We are not police!” 

Master Satoru turns to glare at the speaker. They can’t see his eyes, but Megumi knows they know. Can feel the piercing of his eyes even behind the wrappings. 

“No. But we have a job to train those who are sensitive to the Force. How can we sit back and let them kill off our children?”

“What do you suggest we do, Satoru?” A master says, “We already try to house as many Force sensitive children as we can.”

“We stop this from the source,” Master Satoru says carefully. “We interrogate this assassin and find who is behind this.”

Unease ripples through the Force. None of the Jedi are very fond of Megumi’s master, and they don’t bother trying to hide that in the Force. Animosity builds like a storm in the Force connection. Megumi’s chest grows tight from it before Master Satoru slams his own Force signature into the path, cutting off the ill feeling from the other Jedi off from Megumi. Satoru’s Force signature is anything but calm, biting and bitter if Megumi were to call it anything. But it still rings familiar to Megumi, acts like a soothing balm over the Padawan bond he has with his master. 

“You are walking on a thin line between the dark and light of the Force already,” a master says, it sucks all of the air out of the room. Megumi shifts uncomfortably, drawing the eyes of those around the room. “Do you think we will so easily forget your fall?”

Master Satoru stands straighter, “I didn’t fall, but it doesn’t matter. Stop trying to change the subject.”

Master Yaga places a heavy hand down. “Satoru, you have stepped on our toes by bringing a prisoner here. You have probably broken several galactic laws by doing this. You will leave him with us and go back to Lothal.”

“Yaga-”

“I will not hear anymore from you.”

Master Satoru folds his hands back into his robes, mouth pressed tight. He bows and turns sharply on his heel, “Come Megumi.”

They don’t return to Lothal that night, bedding down in Knight Okkotsu’s dusty room. Master Satoru strips down to the thinnest layers of his robes, unwrapping his eyes, letting his hair fall around his forehead and settles on his old Padawan’s meditation mat. Megumi hovers by the dusty bed, unsure what to do. He’s exhausted, but meditation is important to refocus your mind after a long stint away from the temple. 

“Megumi.” Master Satoru is peering at him over his shoulder, brows furrowed. “Go to sleep.”

“I can meditate.”

His master shakes his head, turning away and perfecting his posture, letting his hands rest palms up on his knees. “No. I can taste how tired you are. Sleep Padawan, we have a long flight ahead of us tomorrow.”

Megumi sits on the bed. It lacks the comfort of his and Satoru’s rooms back on Lothal. The sheets are temple grade, the blanket thin, stinking like sterile time. Megumi’s room back home is full of soft things. Shelves of books and golden lights. His Loth-cats have a tree in the corner and there is always a layer of fine hair over most things. But at least Master Satoru is there, silent and still in meditation, pushing peace and calm into the Force. He lays down, puts his back to the room and falls into a fitful sleep. 

They leave the temple when convors are still in the rafters that next morning. The fluffy, bug eyed birds swoop down to flutter around Megumi. The braver ones settle on his shoulder, nuzzle his freshly washed hair. Master Satoru laughs gently at his side, walking with his hands tucked into his sleeves, taking purposeful strides, head held  high. 

“I don’t get it,” Megumi mumbles. He runs his finger over a light pink convor's head. By the spots of bright silver behind its eyes, Megumi would say it’s a male. 

“Ah, Megs. Animals have always loved you. When you were but a toddling youngling, I had laid you down for a nap in the afternoon. In the sun room. I felt the Force move around you, thought that something bad was happening, but when I came in there you were still napping and tucked in by you was a mama Loth cat and her three babies.”

Megumi rolls his eyes. “Yes, I know. And that is how I came to have Black and White.”

“Ugh. You could have at least named them Dark and Light,” Satoru complains. It’s an old complaint. Something that rolls off Megumi. He likes what he named his Loth-cat’s, and Satoru can shove it. 

They walk past the archives and Satoru pauses. For a moment Megumi thinks that his master is going to slip into the sleeping stacks and forget about home, but then he’s moving on with an air of reservation. The convor takes flight from Megumi’s shoulder when the fountain rooms break the hush of the hall. 

“Master,” Megumi says quietly as they pass. Satoru hums, head tilting towards Megumi. 

“Do you miss the temple when we are on Lothal?”

Satoru hums again. “I suppose I do miss some things. I have fond memories of the Creche, of the fountain rooms.” He grins at Megumi. “But home is Lothal, is it not?”

Megumi looks away but he nods. 

By some miracle of the Force The Sora is still where they had landed her the night before. There is no protocol droid to jitter around them this time. Master Satoru waves a hand and the ramp comes down, not quite landing on the pad. He hops up with an annoying grace, reaching a hand down for Megumi. He’s nearly fifteen now, absolutely not a child, so he doesn’t take it and leaps with far less grace next to him. Megumi stays down in their tiny cargo hold to secure loose bits and bobs for take off and Satoru goes up to the cockpit muttering something about avoiding the sunrise. The ship takes off without a hitch and Megumi shucks off his outer robe to leave hanging on a hook before he climbs the ladder to the cockpit and falls into the copilot's seat. 

“Kento said that he’d keep an ear to the ground for us,” Satoru says. He’s flipping switches and setting the coordinates for Lothal into the nav computer. 

“When did you talk to Kento?”

“Earlier,” Satoru says with a cheerfulness that’s too cheerful. Megumi narrows his eyes at him. 

“You didn’t sleep last night.”

“I got a few hours.” Satoru waves him away. “You know I don’t sleep well on Coruscant. I’m saving up exhaustion for home.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Megumi mutters. “You’re going to die at this rate.”

“The Force sustains me, young Padawan.” The yawn he releases is so wide, Megumi can see his back teeth. “And we’ve got two hyperspace jumps between us and Lothal. Wake me when we get there.”

Megumi pushes the ship into hyperspace a few minutes after Satoru’s breathing has evened out. He gets up and grabs his robe; he always gets cold traveling in hyperspace. The ship purrs and blips around him, quiet in the whirling blue. Megumi curls up in his seat and closes his eyes, slipping into easy meditation. He might not be able to play with the Force like Satoru, might feel like he fights the Force most of the time, but he’s good at meditation. He likes it, always has. Megumi wasn't raised in the creche and didn't have creche mates, but when he was young Satoru had left him in a ring of other little Jedi to learn patience. According to Okkotsu, Master Satoru can fall into perfect meditation, but he can’t teach it to save his life. 

It was Master Utahime sitting in the middle of the sunny training room before she had the harsh scar across her face and sparkling jewelry from her homeworld decorated her tall, elegant montrals. 

“We’re going to sit and be as quiet as possible. Do you think you all can do that?”

No, a group of ten easily distractible younglings could not do that. But Megumi could. He could hear everything in the room. The shifting of robes and the humming of the kyber crystals in Master Utahime’s lightsabers. It was annoying that the other kids were jostling, muttering and giggling. The sun was warm on the floor, deep in the core of the temple he could feel his papa and he reached, slipped into meditation he brushed against his papa’s brightness in the Force.

Satoru’s shields slammed down with a severity that burned Megumi. 

Megumi opens his eyes. They’re still in hyperspace, but the countdown is nearly over. Megumi is good at meditation, but the day he learned it, was the day Satoru became a stranger for long enough that papa was an insecure title. Megumi looks over at the man. Perfectly still in sleep. Megumi has no idea why he was shoved away so harshly that day. Why their bond was quiet for so long, why he was left with the grand healer Shoko for many days. Why Okkotsu had come to spend time with him, shielded gently but firmly from any prodding Megumi might attempt, as if he was waiting to take on the burden of Megumi’s training.

Satoru had tried for normalcy upon his return. But things have never been the same, Satoru has never been the same.

The timer beeps and Megumi eases the cruiser out of hyperspace. They jostle on reentry to regular space, and a few small meteors ping off the side of the ship. Satoru wakes up, smoothly moving to his controls to slow their reentry. 

“It’s not fair that you’re a good pilot and a Jedi prodigy.”

Satoru snorts as if he isn’t weaving through tiny space rocks like it’s nothing. “Simply an advantage of being me I suppose.”

“Humility is the Jedi way,” Megumi snips. He sits back against his seat, folding his arms over his chest. “You need to reread the code. If you even bothered to read it in the first place.”

“ Megumi ,” Satoru gasps. “You wound me, you terrible awful Padawan. You’ve spent too much time with the council. Conspiring against me this whole time.”

Megumi sighs. “Sure.” There’s the shadow of a planet ahead of them. “Is that Mon Cala?”

“Yup. We’re close kiddo.” The comm link on Satoru’s belt bleeps. He stands stiffly, unclips it, smiles at Megumi and moves across the cockpit towards the ladder. “Fuel okay?”

Megumi nods, heart sinking.

“Good. Put us into the lightspeed would you?”

“Sure.”

Satoru slides down the ladder, the door hisses shut behind him. Megumi sighs and leans back in his chair. Yet another thing that Satoru has chosen to keep from him. 

Location clicks on, the hyperspace lanes this far out are messy, so Megumi has to actually guide their ship against the curve of Mon Cala before he can push them into the jump. It feels like they’re finally almost home when the ship settles into hyperspace. 

He wakes up when they land. Satoru is at the controls, flipping off switches and opening manifolds to rid the ship of clinging space. Megumi sits up, stretching. The empty grasslands of Lothal spread out in golden waves from the little landing pad Satoru had built a year into Megumi living with him. The sky is overcast and the feeling of rain brushes the Force. 

“I need to go check on the temple,” Satoru says. He pulls on the robe he must have discarded sometime between Mon Cala and Lothal. He unwinds the bandages around his eyes, stuffing them into his pocket. “Sorry.”

Megumi nods and hurries to rise. “No, it’s fine.”

The temple bleeds peace and any tension left in Megumi’s shoulders disappears as they climb up the hill to its tall rocky spirals. Satoru breathes in, out.

“Ah, Megs, it’s so good to be back.”

Thunder rumbles, the wind blows the grass and their robes into a blur and Megumi agrees completely. He follows Satoru down the hill to the base of the temple. They raise their hands in unison, Megumi bites the inside of his lip as he feels the temple respond to the Force they’re pushing towards it. Satoru is casual, almost lazy, he’s done this a thousand times. Megumi has too, but still he struggles to match Satoru’s power, the strength it takes to open the temple.

“Don’t force it,” Satoru says, and then he laughs. “Or do, I guess.”

Megumi grits his teeth, pushes harder, frustration starting to creep in. What the kark is wrong with him? 

“You’re tired,” Satoru says. He nudges at their connection like he can feed some of his power into Megumi. 

“Shouldn’t matter,” Megumi spits. He drops his hand. The temple seems almost disappointed in him, or maybe that’s Satoru. He shakes out his hand, and raises it again. Satoru has yet to drop his. 

Eventually the temple opens for them, Satoru lets out a happy sigh, and strides with purpose into the temple, leaving Megumi to follow him as if the planet isn’t swaying beneath his feet. Megumi stumbles after him into the mild interior of the temple. 

They don’t get many visitors out here. And the Jedi that manage to find their way onto Lothal are so old that they are more Force than being. But Satoru welcomes anyone that comes, leading them through the tall halls and quiet chambers, leaving them to their meditation by mineral filled pools. What had been a probation for Satoru when he was younger, has become the man’s life work. He is connected deeply to the temple and being left on a planet like Lothal to care for it is no longer a chore. 

Megumi wanders off down a different hall from Satoru, meandering towards the small library Satoru has been stocking with data pads, holocrons, and the occasional flimsi book from across the galaxy. It’s a miniscule library compared to the archives on Coruscant, but they take great pains to maintain it. Megumi steps into the little cavern, waves on a light and crosses the room to the little shelves. There are fat, silky moths flitting around the flimsi books, lighting on covers to nibble at ancient pages. Megumi opens his hand a few feet from the shelf before he can scare the little creatures off. They are fluffy in the Force too, little bundles of light that flitter around Megumi’s own Force signature. He coaxes them towards him, vaguely annoyed that he can do this as he feels several moths land on him. Shoulders, hands, face, hair. They burrow into his Force signature and with what limited communication Megumi has between him and animals, he asks them to please stop destroying the artifacts they work so hard to collect. 

The moths have nothing to say to him. But maybe they do the moth equivalent of a Loth-cat purr. Sighing, Megumi leaves the cavern, walking slowly so as to not disrupt their little gathering spots. Megumi takes them up to a lichen covered alcove that turns mossy a few inches in and deposits his little passengers into it. 

“You know, if you leave them in here you’ll just have to keep removing them from the library.” Satoru has materialized behind Megumi, reaching over his shoulder to hold out a long slender finger to see if a moth will crawl onto him. None do.

“I don’t want to put them outside,” Megumi mumbles. “I don’t mind removing them. It’s my job here.”

Satoru laughs, withdraws his hand, pausing to muss Megumi’s hair on its retreat. “I could find you more jobs easily.” Satoru reaches for the ratty Padawan braid Megumi had struggled to grow. It’s woven through with a thin piece of ribbon from Nobara’s home planet Naboo, dark green and once a little shiney but worn out to a dullness that he doesn’t mind. “We need to braid this again.”

Megumi hums. It has gotten longer in the past months where they’ve barely been home long enough to care for the temple and their home. Ship living isn’t terrible, but it does offer room for more neglect in certain aspects of personal care. Satoru himself looks shaggy.

Thunder rumbles through the temple, muffled by layers of rock and Force. Satoru makes a humming sound in the back of his throat. He beacons Megumi follow him as he leaves the room. With a slow movement of his hand, palm flat and facing the ground, Satoru commands the lights along curved walls and ensconced in pillars to dim until they go out. Megumi gropes in the dark for Satoru’s robe. 

“Come on,” Satoru says. “Let's go home for real.”

They walk against slanting rain, robes pulled tight around their bodies. It’s cold–the cooler months are rolling onto the planet–Megumi can feel it down to his bones. As the top of their wind powered home comes into view, Megumi can feel the loth cats perking in the Force. Their heartbeats speeding, muscles moving as they stretch from whatever perch they had laid themselves on. The storm blows them into their entrance hall and they take off dripping robes to hang them by the door. Satoru mutters something about finding a container to catch the drip of rainwater, but Megumi doesn’t really care, because his Loth-cat’s are suddenly there, bounding into his arms, knocking him back a step. They aren’t small animals by any stretch of the imagination. They hadn’t even been small kittens, each two palmfuls. 

Megumi buries his head into Black’s chest, hugging both wiggly bodies, nearly laughing at how strong the vibrations of their purrs are, rattling around in his chest. Satoru moves past him, petting down the back of both Loth-cats with two quick motions. 

“I’ll put tea on and find something to eat. Don’t forget to turn off C4R3. Ugh, food.”

Megumi stands in the entrance hall for a few minutes longer until his Loth-cat’s get tired of his wet clothes and claw their way out of his grip. Megumi shuffles towards his room, pausing in their large living area to shut down C4R3, the little mix matched droid that Satoru and Megumi had cobbled together from spare parts. It tends to Megumi’s Loth-cats when they cannot be taken with him, and Satoru claims it can defend their home from any invader, which Megumi finds hard to believe with its stubby legs and lopsided head. Megumi pats said head hurriedly after he plugs the droid into his power station. He can hear Satoru bang around in the kitchen, muttering curses in fluid Hutteese as the cranky stove refuses to work for him. Megumi slips up to his room before the man can pester him into helping. 

The room at the top of the stairs was not always a bedroom. It had been a storage room that acted as  access to the large control area above that powers the massive motor for the wind turbine. But Megumi liked this room. The view, the high ceilings, the large round window that opens out onto a durasteel balcony where old barrels and control panels have rusted closed along the railing. Satoru had cleared the room out when Megumi was ten. He’d slept in Satoru’s room up until then, a large round room tucked towards the back of the house full of things that Make the Force purr and yowl. 

Stripping from his wet clothing, Megumi waves a controlled hand at the little lamps bolted to the walls. The lights flare up, warm gold, spilling light over his worn quilts picked up on Alderaan during a festival of the warm months and the few nicknacks he keeps around. Holocrons that Satoru had made for him, rocks from the cave where he harvested his kyber crystal, and the rinds of a fruit from a lost temple on Onderon. Megumi puts on fresh robes, Satoru teases him for wearing robes while at home, but Satoru wears long dark shirts and loose pants so he has no place to speak. 

The Loth-cats find him not long after, coming to rub their hair off on his clothing as he lounges in bed scrolling through the latest text about the Force in animals on his datapad. Black curls into his side and White flops onto her back, belly to him over his lap. Megumi scratches them and reads until Satoru comes and gets him, looking like he lost a fight with a gundark. 

“Food.”

Megumi sniffs the air. “You sure? Smells like a forest fire.”

Satoru clicks his tongue at him. “I put my heart and soul into making you a nutritious meal.”

“I didn't know you had heart or soul to spare.” Megumi puts his datapad down and follows Satoru down the stairs. Side stepping Loth-cat’s as they weave themselves unhelpfully through their legs.

The stove is leaking a steady stream of black smoke. Megumi looks over at Satoru who waves a hand through the air, dismissive, or in a futile attempt to clear the smoke. 

“Why don’t we just replace the stove?” Megumi asks as they sit at their small round table. Black hops up onto the surface and before Megumi can scold him, the animal sniffs the plate, gags dramatically and slinks off the table to glare at Megumi like it’s his fault. “Kark, what did you do to it?”

Satoru pokes at the food stuffs on his plate. “It wasn’t pre-packed. I’m not sure.”

“How have you survived this long? How have I?”

“Long mission,” Satoru defends, but he reaches across the table to retrieve Megumi’s plate, he stacks them and gets up, yawning. When he returns he has a handful of fruits and jerked bantha bought from the day markets of Tatooine and exported to Lothal. “Better your highness?”

Megumi hums his approval, the Loth-cats he sneaks bites to are just as pleased. Satoru is quiet as they eat, his eyes far off and hazy. They hurry in their sockets, a strain that makes Megumi’s temples ache but that Satoru doesn’t seem to notice. The Force feels damp to Megumi, wet like the planet, and lazy like their warm house. But Satoru’s strange unease is making him antsy. Megumi puts down the piece of meat he was gnawing on. 

“Why are you acting weird?”

“Long mission. And a failure of one. Don’t worry your spikey little noggin about it, kay?”

Megumi frowns at him. “No, you feel weird in the Force.” Satoru’s presence quiets in the bond and Megumi glares harder. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t–” Megumi stops. “Don’t quiet yourself to me. I hate that.”

The mild surprise on Satoru’s face, there and gone in a flash, makes Megumi shift uncomfortably in his seat. 

“There are some things you shouldn’t need to worry about, Megumi. You are still a child. The problems of the wider galaxy aren’t your burden yet. Be grateful.”

“I’m not a child. I am strong in the Force, you said so yourself, so why can’t you tell me what you’re thinking?”

Satoru considers him with roaming eyes. Their bond bleeds with a little more of his feelings, still heavily shielded. 

“The Force moves in mysterious ways.” Satoru raises a hand to his temple, pressing his fingers lightly to the skin there. Maybe the way his eyes roam does hurt him. “It warns us of things to come, reminds us of things past so we remember and learn.” Again he goes quiet. “There has been a disturbance in the Force. A prophecy as the council has started to call it, of a ‘chosen one’.”

Megumi blinks. “A chosen one?”

Humming Satoru places a slice of bitter sweet fruit on his tongue. “Yes. Someone so great with the Force that they will change the galaxy. But the Force didn’t bother to say if it would be for the best or worst and well, even if it is for the best that means there was some worse before.”

“When will this chosen one exist? Did the Force say?” Megumi asks. 

Satoru grins a little ruthlessly. “Of course not, Megs. Isn’t that funny? For all I know, it could be you.”

Sitting back, Megumi shakes his head rapidly. “No. I’m. I’m strong with the Force, not so great with it. I can’t save the galaxy!”

“Calm down,” Satoru laughs. “I apologize, I simply think that with my expert training you could save the galaxy.”

“Well…what if it’s you?”

“Hm.” Satoru strokes his chin. “I think that’d be too predictable, don’t you?”

“I don’t think it would matter,” Megumi mutters. “Why is this bothering you so much?”

“It’s burdensome,” Satoru says. “Another thing that I’m going to have to keep in the back of my mind and pay attention to. And, more importantly, it distracts the council from other shiftings in the Force.”

“Others?”

Satoru hums a quiet note. “Yes. A pull.” He flaps his hand at Megumi. “It’s nothing.”

Rolling his eyes Megumi feeds the last of his meat between his Loth-cats who gnaw and purr-growl audibly as they chew on it.  “Fine.”

They sit in silence, Satoru poking at his food, the Loth-cats rumbling under the table, pawing at Megumi’s legs for more treats. They go ignored as Megumi concentrates on Satoru in their bond. He’s shielded, but not so harshly, definitely discrated, but also comfortable in their home. It takes some poking but there among the content feelings sits a quiet ball of festering guilt. Megumi focusses on this little pocket of unease. 

“You’re leaving,” Megumi says quietly. “You’re leaving again.”

Their bond goes tight as Satoru pulls himself into controlled coils “Meg–”

“Why.”

“Megumi, I have to.”

Megumi puts his arms over his chest, hugging his sides. “Take me with you.”

“No.”

“Why not? I’m your Padawan, Satoru. You can’t leave me home to watch an empty temple all the time. It’s not fair.”

“Some things are better handled alone,” Satoru says. “And if you don’t want to stay on Lothal, you only have to tell me and I can talk to Kento about–”

“No.” Megumi leans forward, “That's not the point, Satoru. You don’t trust me for some reason. After everything, all this time, you don’t trust me.”

“I trust you with my life,” Satoru says harshly. 

Scoffing Megumi stands up, “No you don’t! If you did we wouldn’t be having this conversation so often. If you trusted me you wouldn’t shut yourself out of our bond.”

“Megumi, there are some things a child shouldn’t experience, especially not a child learning to navigate the light side of the Force.”

“That’s bantha shit and you know it,” Megumi hisses. “Am I too weak for you?”

Satoru closes his eyes and presses his lips tight. “You are learning.”

“You are actively pushing me away from ‘learning.’”

When Satoru responds his voice is emotionless, his eyes are icy, and the bond strains in a way that makes a shiver of nausea curl up Megumi’s spine. “I trust you with my life. Maybe I don’t trust anyone else with yours.”

Silence falls over the room. The rain pelts down the metal sides of the wind turbine. Megumi can barely hear the heavy turn of the blades against the rain. The animals have forgotten their chewing, staring up from the floor, chirping low in the back of their throats. Megumi struggles to direct the Force away from them or to place any reassurance into the bond he has with his animals. 

“You don’t think I can handle myself,” Megumi accuses. “You talk yourself into corners all the time.”

Standing Megumi leaves the kitchen. He’s unsure why he’s so upset, but it only grows when Satoru doesn’t come after him or call him back. Only the Loth-cats scramble to follow him. 

Back in his room, the lights dimmed down and the ambience set to let in the natural sound of the rain, Megumi pops open the window and settles on the ledge with a long distance comm link that Okkotsu had given him when Megumi still clung to Satoru’s robes when they were in the temple.

“For emergencies or treats, young one.”

They had used it a lot to begin with, back when Satoru stuck closer to the temple on Coruscant to ensure his newly knighted Padawan got his feet under him before taking on the wider galaxy alone. 

Megumi stares out at the darkness, bled deeper by the rain and the wind that’s turned into a breeze. The grass sighs a muted soggy sound.  He thumbs the transceiver on and speaks almost in a whisper when he brings it to his mouth. 

“This is Tooka, do you copy, Convor?”

The line is silent. Megumi drops the comlink to his lap. He doesn’t want to admit that he’s lonely, that he misses Okkotsu's presence, and Nobara’s nagging. She’s been gone for so long too. Her and Master Saori are on Yavin 4, or so they were last time Megumi had gotten in contact with her. And it’s a little strange, because Megumi doesn’t get lonely. Not really, not like others. He doesn’t mind the quiet, or spending time with gentle droids and animals. Megumi wonders if the waves of heavy disconnect are Satoru’s as much as they are his. 

He shuts that thought out of his mind and the Force as fast as possible. 

“Go to Satoru, Black,” Megumi murmurs, touching his forehead to the vibrating animal. He watches as he hops from Megumi’s lap and waits by the door to be let out. The house is dark and the  ambience has been set to a low thrum that stimulates Satoru’s frantic mind. Bed time it is then. Black hops down the stairs and patters across the floor to Satoru’s room. The door is closed, the Force is still. Black smacks a clawed paw to the door and lets out a series of sheer yowls that make Megumi cringe and duck further behind the door, but it works to bring Satoru out of his room cursing and barefoot. 

“Silly creature,” Satoru mutters, but he reaches down and scoops up the animal, tucking him into his elbow with an exaggerated groan and comment on weight. The door slides shut behind him. The Force brushes gentle in their bond. 

Megumi sleeps deeply when he eventually turns off his data pad and curls in his bed listening to the far off thunder. 

“Come, Padawan,” Satoru says early that morning, standing in Megumi’s doorway dressed in simple soft clothing, Black twining between his feet. “Come meditate with me. The Force is tumultuous in you.”

It’s a peace offering handled with the same stuttering grace Satoru always handles the bumps they have with. Megumi rolls his eyes but gets out of bed shooing his guardian out so he can get dressed. Satoru goes with no protest and Megumi takes his  time getting dressed in layered robes, brown and cream, watching the sky. The storm is gone, but the sun only breaks through the heavy cloud coverage occasionally. 

Satoru has made tea and stands on the porch, observing nothing. Megumi takes the cup left for him on the small entrance table, and joins his guardian. 

“Are we going to the temple?”

“Mn. No.” Satoru doesn’t look at him, sips at his tea and points with his free hand down at the ground at a patch of grass shorter than the rest. There used to be some kind of machinery on it. “That’ll be fine.”

“The grass is wet,” Megumi says and he got wet enough running through the rain the night before.

Satoru smiles. 

Megumi watches Satoru draw the water pebbled along the grass off of the many blades in one large cloud. He flicks it away and lets it fall onto a different patch of grass, and then he sits and grins up at Megumi. 

“There, dry.”

“You shouldn’t misuse the Force,” Megumi mutters as he draws his robes around himself and sits. 

“I wasn’t misusing it,” Satoru laughs. He’s falling into a meditation stance with practiced ease. “It had a perfectly practical  application, and I was giving my dearest Padawan a lesson.”

Megumi folds his legs and places his hands palms up on his knees. “The only lesson I got from that is one I know well.”

Tilting his head, Satoru smiles closed mouthed at him. “And what is that?”

“That I will never be able to wield the Force as you do.”

“Not with that attitude.” Satoru clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Besides, that wasn’t that impressive. I think Okkotsu can probably do it.”

Megumi scowls at the horizon. “That doesn’t make me feel better at all.” Nor does it make the act less impressive. 

“There is no shame in the learning process,” Satoru says gently. Like he’s a good teacher and doesn’t spend most of their lessons showing off and then staring at Megumi expectantly. “Now, let’s meditate.”

They sit in silence for many minutes. By the waves of Satoru’s Force signature he has managed to slip into the gentle stream that is meditation, but Megumi floats on the top, aware of everything , especially Satoru’s peace. 

“Satoru,” Megumi says quietly as he opens his eyes to catch on the clouds retreating hurriedly across the sky. 

It takes a moment but Satoru replies. 

“What?”

“Why did you decide to train me?”

Satoru’s eyes open and he looks at Megumi quizzically. “Why did I decide to train my Force sensitive child?”

Yes. “No, just. Maybe. Why did you take on another Padawan after Okkotsu?”

“I…wanted to.” Satoru lets go of his stance to turn to look at Megumi. “We’ve had this conversation before.”

“You keep giving me reason to doubt you.”

Satoru’s mouth falls into a tight line and foreign hurt hurries across his eyes, but not their bond. It’s there and gone in the span of a breath. 

“I didn’t mean that,” Megumi mutters. He rubs his brow. “More like I give you reason to doubt me .”

“Megumi.” Satoru’s tone is firm. “I have never doubted you, how could I have? You are learning, you’re young, I chose not to let the creche raise you because I wanted you to be a child for as long as possible, to have the Force be a lullaby for as long as possible. You compare yourself to others far too often.”

“But Okkotsu was…”

“Difficult? Scared? Traumatized by the Force? Made me question everything I knew about myself and my power?”

“Yeah,” Megumi breathes. “That.”

“You are not Okkotsu, never have been and never will be. And besides.” Satoru lets his legs stretch out, effectively done with meditation. “I don’t want another Okkotsu.”

Megumi frowns at him. “But rumor at the temple said that you didn’t want another padawan ever again.”

“There was also a rumor going around that Master Yaga slept with the entirety of the lower ring. So take what you hear in that rumor mill with a grain of salt.”

Megumi sighs, long and low. 

“Speak your mind, Padawan.”

“Take me with you. Wherever you’re going, please.”

Satoru looks at him, face unreadable. “Okay.”

“Listen I–oh. Okay?” 

“Sure.” Satoru stands, brushing grass and dirt off the back of his clothing. The bond is pointedly empty of any emotion and it sets Megumi on edge. He scrambles to stand as a well. “You are discontent and I fear it is my fault.”

Megumi squares his shoulders. “It is my duty to be by your side, Master.”

“You’ll write the report,” Satoru says as he turns away. “When I have more details and will share them with you, now. Go do something a teenager your age would like to do.”

“Like what?”

Satoru shrugs. He’s already walking away, probably to find a peaceful place for meditation where Megumi’s contentious thoughts won’t bother him. “Go to town, or go speeder racing. The world is yours for the taking.”

Megumi tucks his hands into his robes. “Will you spar with me?”

“Yeah, of course. Come on, go get your saber.”

They face off in a long expanse of grass on the other side of the house, halfway to the temple where they keep the grass short. Satoru wraps a cloth three times around his eyes, tying it with practiced fingers. Megumi glares at him as he stretches. Satoru claims it “evens the playing field” for him to be visually impaired when they spar. But it doesn’t matter. The cloth alone is so dense that light can’t even flow through it and Satoru wraps it around his face three times. And still he moves with the same skill and grace. 

Satoru’s lightsaber hums to life, he swings it lazily, twirling it in his hand and around his back. He falls into an easy stance and grins at Megumi. 

“Draw your blade.”

Megumi ignites his own saber and puts his weight firmly into his feet. He focuses the Force on Satoru, mapping out minute movements. He lunges first, swinging his blade up instead of down. Satoru parries it with ease. Megumi pivots quickly, feints to the side before twisting in an attempt to catch Satoru’s middle unprotected. 

The purple blade catches his and Megumi is pushed back, sliding on wet grass. Satoru hasn’t moved. 

“Already using the Force?” Megumi snaps.

Satoru laughs. “I have yet to use the Force.”

“Come on,” Megumi grits. “Fight me.”

And then Satoru does. He moves faster than Megumi can register, he barely has his blade up, the Force a blur, his vision no better. There’s brief warmth on this wrist, the crackling of the lightsabers catching against each other, before Megumi’s weapon is being flung from his hand, sent skittering across the grass. Satoru is back where he started, unruffled, lightsaber held out and down, grinning at Megumi. 

“Draw your blade, Padawan.”

Megumi scowls at Satoru, but he opens his palm to reclaim his lightsaber. When the hilt is in his grasp he ignites it again. 

“You think too hard about who you’re fighting and not how you’re going to win,” Satoru says. 

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Satoru’s grin dips a little. His mouth evening out into a mild smile, that look he gets when he’s teaching Megumi something.

“It does. You should be able to fight anyone, anything that puts you in danger. Be that a wampa, an elderly woman, or me. If you are in danger, your only objective is to get out alive. To you I am the wampa and the old lady and myself.” The purple glow casts Satoru’s features in off shadows. “Do you see?”

Megumi swallows, his mouth tastes like grass. “How am I supposed to disregard who you are when you’re a far superior swordsman?”

“Because once you let that go, it doesn’t matter how long I’ve held a lightsaber, Megs.”

“If my form is–”

“Your form is fine. You have mastered Soresu, and it serves you well. That is not your hang up.” Satoru raises his lightsaber, falls into a defensive stance. “I am your enemy. Nothing more.”

Cold hurries down Megumi’s spine but he sets his jaw, lets his grip on the Force go lax and raises his blade to meet Satoru’s. 

Satoru beats him every time they spar. He keeps up a steady stream of instruction, breath never hitching from exertion. At one point he has the audacity to toss his lightsaber away and face Megumi with nothing but his hands. He slammed a palm into Megumi’s chest after ducking cleanly under his arms, it toppled  him onto his back. Satoru had pointed Megumi’s own lightsaber at Megumi’s throat, caught primly in midair as Megumi fell. 

Now he limps after Satoru feeling too sore to feel like a failure. Satoru is yammering about dinner and maybe heading into town for some evening recreation. But he doesn’t drink and he’s not interested in the burlesque shows or brothels, so really there is nothing for him to do. Megumi reminds him of all these things through clenched teeth.

“We could catch a light show,” Satoru muses as he steps into the house before Megumi. 

“No.”

“You are so boring. What did I do wrong to suck all the fun out of you?”

“There are just better ways to occupy my time than watching dancing light, Satoru.” Megumi kicks his boots off, biting back a noise of pain.

“You know,  those dancing lights taught me Makashi.”

Megumi turns to look at him. “No they didn’t.”

“They did,” Satoru aligns his boots with Megumi’s. “I studied how they danced and applied it to myself.”

“You hardly use Makashi.”

Satoru shrugs as he steps past Megumi again. Black has appeared to scream at them about dinner. “I do. But I’ve more or less crafted my own style, as you will, from the many forms.” Satoru bends down and heaves Black up, ignoring how the Loth-cat yowls and swipes at the floor in a demand to be released. “I’m going to feed you, silly thing. Go get White.” This he says to Megumi. 

The days pass in a cover of rain. A group of Jedi come out to the temple for a few days when the storms have moved off to bring in a rich gold sun. They fill the temple,  sitting in meditation or watching Satoru like he is something unnatural. The little ones, so little that they are clumsy in their meditation, follow Megumi like shadows, watch as he removes moths and dare not ask to touch. He lets them see the creatures up close, speaks to them quietly about how he uses the Force to talk to the animals. A Rodian child tells Megumi that she wants to use the Force like that, that if she can’t what is the point. Megumi isn’t sure what to say to that. 

When they aren’t in the temple, Satoru and Megumi are at home. Megumi spends most of his time in his room reading, but sometimes Satoru will pester him into bringing his data pads down to the living area where Satoru tinkers and writes and looks through holo maps. He meditates a lot too. More than Megumi is used to. Floating in the middle of the room an almost troubled look  creasing his brows. There are things in the Force that are touching him, things that he will not relay to Megumi. 

They go to town for a supply run and get accosted by a stooped Twi'lek man looking for miracles. Satoru performs what he can. 

The days pass in a cover of rain and then a transmission comes.

It is early when Satoru shakes Megumi awake. So early that there is no light in the sky but the stars that lean towards morning. Satoru is dressed in dark robes, the usual brightness of his outer robe replaced with a deep black one. 

“It’s time to go, Megumi.”

Megumi doesn’t ask where, or why now, as he dresses in his own robes and clips his lightsaber to his belt. 

“I don’t know when we’ll be back,” Satoru says as Megumi follows him down the stairs. 

Megumi pulls on his boots, noticing the two packs by the door. Satoru is turning on C4R3 and Megumi gathers his Loth-cats in his arms, nuzzling them in the Force and out, promising return. Satoru pats them both and then stands. He pulls on one pack, leaving Megumi to pull on the other. 

“Ready?” Satoru asks. Megumi isn’t sure but he nods, gripping the straps of his bag. Satoru reaches for the control panel to open the door when he pauses. “Will you promise me that no matter what happens you’ll obey anything I tell you to do?”

Satoru’s voice is uncharacteristically grim. 

Megumi watches his face, searches in the Force, he finds nothing, but he nods. “Of course.”

Blue eyes are burning when they turn on Megumi. “Anything.”

“Yes. Satoru, anything.”

Satoru is looking at Megumi like he’s in pain, but then he nods and opens the door into the fragrant early morning. 

The Sora lifts off silently. Megumi watches from the co-pilot seat as Satoru eases out of the atmosphere like he expects something to stop them. He doesn’t relax until they’re speeding through whirling space. Satoru leans back with a heavy sigh and turns to look at Megumi who raises a silent eyebrow in a request for information. 

“I have a lead we needed to move on immediately,” Satoru says, hedging. “We’re headed to Hosnian Prime for some coordinates.”

“Hosnian Prime? That’s pretty close to the core.” 

Satoru grunts in affirmation. “I have a good feeling we’ll be led in the right direction. It’s not Tatooine, or some other back world, but the core can sometimes hide things more than those planets.”

“But information can be harder to track down,” Megumi says. “We don’t know those cities like we know Coruscant.”

Grinning, Satoru leans forward to flip a few switches to clear the manifolds of clinging moisture. “Worry not, Padawan, I know exactly where we’re going.”

“Does it worry you?” Megumi asks as Satoru leans back in his chair. “That we aren’t going to a place like Tatooine?”

“Yes,” Satoru says with an honesty that shocks Megumi to his core. “It would be much easier to deal with this if it were a paranoid sect on Tatooine that hires bounty hunters to do their killing. Sleemo like that normally don’t have other motives outside of fear and money.”

“Will we tell the counsel?” 

Satoru’s jaw flexes but he nods. “Yes. As much as they have been resistant and frankly unhelpful in this, I will contact them once we have received our information.”

This admission makes nerves twist in Megumi’s stomach. He shifts in his chair and has to look away from Satoru. He’s ready for whatever they are about to find. Has to be after begging to be taken along with Satoru, but this is serious, Satoru is serious. 

“Do we have back up?”

Satoru barks a laugh. “You are the back up.” He stands, stretches. “I need to meditate. You should probably try and get some sleep.”

“Wait, I’m back up?” Megumi twists to watch Satoru cross the cockpit and start to climb down to the ship’s belly. Satoru just smiles at him and slides down the ladder. “Dank farrik.”

“Language!”

Megumi rubs his face and settles in for a long ride.

They have to stop for fuel a few systems over from the Hosnian system, but they’re making good time. Satoru barters with the ugnaught running the fuel station to sell them several tanks of fuel at half the price they would normally go for. He loads them into the cramped cargo hold with the Force and the ugnaught spits a curse and goes to hide in his little office. Satoru leaves the credits on the fuel stand and pouts as he climbs back into the ship. 

“I’m not scary, right Megs?”

“Right,” Megumi drawls. “You’re a ray of sunshine.”

“I have been told I radiate the light side of the Force,” Satoru sniffs as he puts in the final coordinates and pushes The Sora into the sky. 

“Who said that?” Megumi scoffs, he’s working to stabilize the ship with Satoru as they leave the thin atmosphere of the tiny moon. When Satoru doesn’t answer and a wisp of melancholy floats through the Force, Megumi turns to look at him. He’s frowning softly, hand on the accelerator, the other gone to touch the base of his own throat, covered by the high collar of his dark robes. “Satoru?”

“Hm? Oh, no one. I was kidding.”

“Okay,” Megumi mumbles. 

“Wanna put her into lightspeed?”

“I will, but it’s not as fun as it used to be, you know.” Megumi checks the hyperdrive and pulls the lever that puts them into hyperspace. 

“Stop reminding me you aren’t my lil boy anymore. It makes me so sad.” Satoru reaches for Megumi’s hair, ruffling it. 

He’s making Megumi paranoid, and Megumi doesn’t think he realizes it. Something about the way Satoru is acting feels like danger. He ducks out from Satoru’s hand after a few seconds of being shaken around, and smooths a palm over his hair. 

“Get over it.”

“So cruel,” Satoru mumbles. He pulls his lightsaber off his belt and dismantles it with a casual wave of his hand. The bright kyber crystal rotates slowly in the air. There are hairline fractures disrupting the clear surface of the purple crystal and Megumi averts his eyes. “Look at that corroding.” Satoru isn’t even looking at his crystal, instead he studies the inner compartment of the weapon.

Megumi pulls his own lightsaber from his hip and takes it apart. His crystal is as whole and bright as it had been when he’d harvested it a few months after Satoru took him as his Padawan officially. The mechanics of his saber aren’t corroded, maybe a little dirty from their stint on the swamp planet, but otherwise in good shape. Satoru has disappeared down the ladder again, leaving his dismantled lightsaber hovering above his chair. Megumi glances towards the ladder before he reaches for Satoru’s crystal. He shouldn’t, knows he shouldn’t, but he touches it. 

It’s dark and cold and yawning with a chasm of loneliness and hurt so deep it’s black sea. There is no light but it is burned against bone and scorched into the stomach, curling up the throat to be expelled through a numb mouth 

Please

There are brown eyes that reflect purple in the dark, turned gold in a cold imitation of light. Hands and touch and warmth, fleeing fast, a taste of whiplash. And it’s chased, reaching untouching for fingers that feel like betrayal

Please

This is not the end

Need not be

Please

Choose

Choose

“You are light. It comes off you like water down a cliff. I feel it here.”

A press of fingers to the center of a chest

Choose!

Not enough

Choose

A giving way of a stalwart crystal, ice cracked with heat and pressure

Pressure, pressure, pressure

Break–no

Light

Dark hair, green eyes

CHOOSE

Megumi gasps as Satoru yanks him back. The floor is cold and hard under him, Satoru is a tall glare of shadow staring down at him with uncanny eyes. The lightsaber is in pieces on the floor by Megumi’s feet. The crystal is still rotating in the air, Megumi stares at it, swallowing back the nausea in his mouth.

“W-what was that?”

Satoru hasn’t said anything, he's watching Megumi with a tight mouth. He feels caught, and ashamed and terrified. 

“Satoru?”

“What compelled you to touch it?” Satoru asks quietly. “What could have possibly made you think that was a good idea. It's my crystal.”

Satoru flicks his hand and the lightsaber reassembles itself. Satoru hooks it on his belt and lets his robes fall over it. Megumi opens his mouth, closes it, puts an arm on the copilot's seat and staggers up.

“I didn’t think anything would happen. I was just curious.” Megumi swallows again trying to calm his pounding heart. He notices now the repair kit Satoru had brought back up to the cockpit. It’s on the floor by the ladder. He looks back up at Satoru who looks angry now. Megumi shrinks away and sits down hard. “I’m sorry.”

“You know the connection between Jedi and their kyber crystals,” Satoru says harshly. “That was reckless.”

Megumi looks sharply at him. “Why though? Why was it reckless? Would you see–” Megumi winces. “Would you see darkness if you touched mine?”

Satoru’s face betrays nothing. “I hope not.”

The cockpit goes silent. Satoru turns his face away from Megumi, the Force is silent between them. Once when Megumi was much younger and they were moving into their house, Megumi had found an old holo. Shaky blue when he turned it on, the person in it blurred at the edges and missing a face. A corrupted file. They’d been tall with long hair falling past their waist and a lightsaber in their hand. Megumi had turned with it in his hand when he heard Satoru come up behind him. He’d smiled at the holo but took it from Megumi, turned it off and slipped it into his pocket. He never explained, and caught the little bits of pain that bled through their weak connection. There has always been a part of Satoru that he doesn’t talk about, that the temple on Coruscant whispers about. Murmurs of falling and the dark side and Satoru wavering. But to Megumi, Satoru has never wavered, so such talk was just the jealous whisperings of those who will never know the Force like Satoru does. 

But that was darkness. That was the howling vortex of the absence of light, fed into Megumi from the kyber crystal. 

Satoru sits stiffly in the captain's chair, but does not look towards Megumi. His back is straight, Megumi sinks further into his seat. He nudges himself against Satoru’s Force signature like a baby seeking out the comfort of its mother. Breaking himself down to show how sorry he is for touching something so connected to Satoru’s deeper being. There’s a wall that Megumi bashes against but he sits against it until he sees Satoru’s shoulders drop out of the corner of his eye, and the cool touch of his Force signature join’s Megumi.

“I’ll tell you one day,” Satoru says quietly. He cuts his gaze to Megumi. “Somewhere safe and controlled when I–it can’t burn you.”

Megumi nods silently. The alarm for dropping out of hyperspace blares, Satoru leans forward as they drop out of the hyperspace lane above the heavy traffic outside of Hosnian Prime’s atmosphere. Megumi wishes they had gotten a little more time in space, but Satoru is already speaking into the transmitter on the dash, receiving permission for a landing platform. The tension between them is strange but Satoru smiles at him when their clearance codes work. It's an assurance and maybe a need for them to put this aside so they can do this mission. Megumi nods and Satoru sends him down to the cargo hold for one last check before they land. 

Satoru strides through the streets of Hosnian Prime with purpose. They don’t have their hoods up, that’s the perfect way to draw unwanted attention, and Satoru seems to be making a point of flashing the lightsaber on his hip as often as he can. Megumi has to speed walk to keep up with him, glancing around at their busy surroundings, a slight heading twinging at the sheerness of the Force. Everything that moves in the shadows of alleys is an enemy. Every being that gazes on Satoru with hunger is a threat. They turn down a busy market street, earth in its tones in comparison to the metal and technology that rise above it. The crowd is thick here, but Satoru towers above most of the lifeforms that move around them, shouting prices and advertising their goods. Megumi shoves his way through the crowd scowling at Satoru’s obliviousness to how he out paces Megumi three to one. 

They come to a halt outside of a low diner, run mostly by droids. Satoru turns to grin at Megumi before he ducks into the chrome and white interior. Megumi casts a cautious glance around as he follows. A droid is talking to Satoru. Her eyes flicker up to Megumi.

“A table for two hon?”

“Yes, please.” Satoru smiles. The droid pulls too large tablets from under the chrome bar and hands them to Satoru.

“You boys want caf right away?”

“Not for me.” Satoru looks at Megumi. “Want caf?”

“Master, is this where we’re meeting our contact?”

Satoru waves him away. “No. This is where we’re getting breakfast. Caf or not?”

“This is a waste of time.”

The droid makes a trilling sound. “You sure are wastin’ my time, hon. Yes or no it’s a simple question.”

“Yes.” Megumi scowls. 

He follows Satoru to a booth situated right by one of the long neon lit windows. Satoru sits without a care in the world, scrolling through the data pad menu, he only pauses when he notices Megumi is lingering on his feet.

“Is something the matter, Padawan?”

“We’re sitting right by a window.”

Satoru observes the window and then looks back at Megumi. “That we are. The view could stand to be better but it’s not offensive.”

“And if there's a sniper on that roof?” Megumi shoves a finger at the high building across the street.

“Well then they’ll be sorry for making me miss my breakfast. Sit down kid. The droid is coming back.”

The droid hands Megumi a steaming cup of caf, informs them her name is SV11Y and asks what they’ll be having. Satoru orders them both large plates of blue-milk pancakes and a bowl of prickly rined fruit that Megumi doesn’t know the name of. 

“Eat your fill, I don’t know when we’ll get to eat food that isn’t ration packs after this,” Satoru says this with a lightness that tickles that unease in Megumi. 

They spend an hour at the diner and then Satoru pays the bill and they slip back out into the streets. Megumi realizes as they walk in the crowd, thicker now, that the hour was purposeful and Satoru wanted the crowds to thicken. 

“Keep close to me, Padawan,” Satoru murmurs as they break from the stream of foot traffic into an alley. Satoru points silently to the roof and mimes jumping straight up from a stack of crates against the wall. Satoru performs the action in a clean move, his foot barely gracing the stack before he’s over the lip of the gutter and leaning over it to extend a hand to Megumi. He ignores it and swings up onto the roof himself. They climb three more times, the wind catches their robes and Megumi’s hair. The city spans out below them and Megumi sticks close to Satoru. 

On the fourth roof, tucked behind a laboring frequency station, they find their contact.

“I thought you were not coming, Jetii.”

Megumi flinches at the harsh word, but Satoru smiles placidly and turns to the Mandalorian. He tilts his head to her.

“I think I was the one who should have doubted.”

The Mandalorian takes off her helmet, tucking it into her elbow, shaking out her dark hair and sliding a pair of thin glasses onto her nose. She scowls at them when Satoru lets out a surprised sound.

“You’re a child.”

She lifts a proud chin. “I’m not a child.”

“You can’t be older than me,” Megumi mumbles. 

“I’m eighteen,” the girl snaps before she narrows her eyes at them. “It doesn’t matter.”

Satoru holds up his hands in surrender. “Of course not. I was not expecting a Mandalorian or someone of your youth.”

“I am not at fault for your unpreparedness.”

Satoru laughs, “Of course of course. Do you have our information?”

The Mandalorian nods, her hand goes to a pocket on her belt. She withdraws a data stick and holds it out to Satoru.

“I don’t know what's on that, but I was paid a pretty price for it.”

Satoru takes it gingerly, turning it over in his fingers. He steps towards the transmission tower and plugs the data stick in. The old screen is slow to load, but eventually a rendering of a planet appears with several blinking points that Megumi doesn’t understand. Satoru’s shoulders seize but he takes the stick from the computer and slips it into an inner pocket of his robes. 

“Are you safe?” He asks the Mandalorian when he turns back to them. She shrugs. 

“Probably not, but that’s normal. It comes with the job.”

“These enemies are not like any you would have faced,” Satoru warns her. 

“I’ve killed Force users before, if that’s what you mean.”

Megumi goes cold and shock flickers briefly through Satoru’s eyes before he can check his emotions.

“Yes. I suppose that is what I mean.”

The Mandalorian smirks, “I’m not to be underestimated.”

“No.” Satoru smiles. “Thank you for delivering my information with the utmost of care.”

The Mandalorian nods tightly, takes one last look at Megumi, slips her glasses off and shoves her helmet back over her face. The jetpack on her back rockets to life and she swoops into the sky and away. Satoru hums and then starts to walk briskly back the way they came, leaving Megumi to hurry after him. He stumbles after Satoru all the way back to The Sora . Satoru is silent as he walks, people part for him in the streets, closing the path before Megumi can dart through. At the ship Satoru stops short and tilts his head to the side. Megumi holds his breath, chest tight with the desire to breath heavily from their brisk return. 

“What is it?” Megumi looks around the landing platform. They aren’t alone by any means, if they were that would be strange indeed.

Satoru doesn’t answer him and their bond is mellow. Frustration is starting to build in Megumi. He stands uselessly as Satoru walks around The Sora twice, reaches under the belly and pulls off a tiny round object.

“A tracking beacon,” Megumi says with dread.

“Mandalorian in make,” Satoru says. 

“Do you think it was her?”

Satoru studies the device in his hand. “No. I think we are supposed to believe it was her.” Satoru replaces it.

“What are you doing?!” Megumi snaps.

“Let them come,” Satoru says and then pulls down the loading ramp. 

Megumi stares after him as he climbs into the ship. His heart is beating in his throat, every Force signature close to him suddenly feels incredibly hostile. Already they should be wary of the Mandalorians, and now Satoru is tempting the fates. 

“Come, Padawan, or I will leave you,” Satoru calls over his shoulder. His hand is already on the control panel so Megumi goes. 

Once settled into the cockpit Satoru sticks the data stick into the nav computer. 

“Where are we going?” Megumi asks. The specs look better on their ship, but he doesn’t recognize the ringed planet. 

“Back to the outer rim,” Satoru grunts. “Good thing I stocked up on fuel.”

Megumi gapes at him. “You knew we’d be tracked.”

Satoru smiles, a small thing, poking at the planet. “The Force shows all Megumi.”

“You could have said something.”

“Nah.” Satoru kills the image and starts the take off sequence. “Strap in. We’ve got a long, and probably bumpy flight to Lah’mu.”

Bumpy, Megumi thinks grumpily, as he stands vigil over the slowly refueling ship, was a terrible understatement.

There’s a hole in the hull that Satoru considers with his hand on his chin. Smoke rises in the distance from the strange little fighter Satoru had shot out of the sky after it had put said hole in the hull. 

“Are we in trouble?” Megumi asks sullenly. 

Satoru shakes his head as he walks past and up the ramp, shedding his cloak as he does. He tosses it onto a low rung of the ladder and digs an old weld kit out from under a bench. 

“I think I can fix it. Won’t take long.”

All things considered it doesn’t take long, but the ship finishes refueling before, so Megumi entertains himself by levitating the local flora and fauna. Satoru curses and spits and does many un-Jedi like things, but in the end, the hole is closed. Satoru tosses the weld kit back into the ship and sticks the tracking beacon onto a frog Megumi has in his palm. 

“You can’t do that,” Megumi says aghast, watching stunned as Satoru shoos the creature back into the purple and blue reed forest.

“Just did. Come on, we’re cutting it close.”

“The frog , Satoru,” Megumi says.

“Will be fine. Let's go.”

“Why didn’t we just take the beacon off on Hosnian Prime?” Megumi stomps up the ramp after Satoru.

“We needed to give chase,” Satoru says. “Now the beacon is moving in the middle of nowhere space instead of not moving on a planet they already knew we were on. It’ll trip up whoever is following us for longer.”

“S’just mean,” Megumi mutters. He goes to climb the ladder but Satoru stops him and points to the small room that was once a carbon freeze chamber. It now acts as the sole bedroom on The Sora.

“Sleep. We have a long way to go.” Something must show on Megumi’s face because Satoru pats his shoulder. “Nothing is coming after us. They’re after a lil froggie.”

The image of that frog exploding when hit by a blaster bolt rolls through Megumi’s mind. He rips his shoulder out of Satoru’s grip. 

“You’re so awful.” Megumi stomps over to the room and is grateful for the space the door puts between him and Satoru. He lays on the mattress strangely comfortable for what it is, amid the blankets they’ve picked up from all over the galaxy, and stares at the ceiling. 

The dim room, lit only by a battery operated lamp on a tiny shelf, is peaceful, but also leaves room for Megumi to think about touching Satoru’s kyber crystal. The horrible way it made him feel, lancing control. And. Megumi rolls over. He thinks that those green eyes were his. They were familiar enough to be, even from the short glimpse of them that he received. 

He doesn’t know what to make of that. Doesn’t know what he wants to make of it. The ship hums, the Force hums. It’s agitated around the pillar that is Satoru up in the cockpit until Satoru notices Megumi leerking, and he always notices, and the only thing that comes through the Force is a gentle but firm sleep . Megumi doesn’t have the willpower to fight it. He dreams in disorienting flashes of red and purple. 

Lah’mu is cold. The sea that washes up black shores is a glacial gray. It’s damp, a thick cold damp, that settles itself on their robes, and draws out their breaths in streams of steam. Megumi had woken after the ship had been landed and Satoru had been gone. He’d scrambled after his Master who was at the bottom of the ramp surveying the dark beach and fog swamped mountains, looking like he was ready to leave Megumi on the ship. 

There is no sign of life anywhere, not even animals. Just endless beach and a sky that looks angry at them. 

“What are we looking for?” Megumi asks. They’re climbing one of the sheer cliffs, up towards a dark green smattering of dense forest. Megumi’s fingers are numb and his jaw aches from clenching it against the shivers that wrack his back. 

“A list, a map. And maybe if we’re lucky, the owner,” Satoru says. He reaches up, pushes the Force against the wall, carving out another foot hold. He uses it, pulls himself onto a parcarous lip, and reaches a hand down for Megumi. Megumi takes his hand this time, lets his master pull him up until they are clinging for their lives against slick rock. Satoru grins at him. “Having second thoughts about coming?”

Megumi grits his teeth. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Satoru snorts. He shimmies around, feeling across the wall for natural hand holds before he lets out a labored sigh and carves out a few more with the Force. 

“How do you know we needed to go up?” Megumi asks, once again letting Satoru tug him up onto the next ledge. 

“I do,” Satoru says. “I feel it.” He looks troubled. “Something…I don’t know.”

“ You don’t know?”

“The Force is strange here,” Satoru mutters. And up they go. 

Eventually they are on the top of a peninsula. They walk for a few clicks until the crashing of the waves is loud against the rocks far below. Satoru stands very still in the middle of spongy green flora, head cocked to the side. Megumi waits, hand on his lightsaber, he feels something. A heavy, heady press he turns to speak when Satoru is drawing his lightsaber and lunging in front of Megumi. 

Red illuminates the fog into a strange pink. Blades crackle with moisture and heat as Satoru catches not one, but four red blades that came out of the fog like charging death. Megumi stumbles back, half shoved by Satoru’s shoulder. His Master pushes the lightsabers back with his own and with the Force. 

Megumi draws his own blade, striking fast and sure at the a red blur swinging at Satoru’s left. Satoru whirls in a blur of purple and black leaping back and forth deflecting the blades. He reaches out his free hand and yanks Megumi back to his side with the Force and they put distance between them and the glowing red. 

“Come out!” Satoru shouts at the fog. Both hands support his saber. A quiet laugh murmurs above the hum of the blades and a hulking shadow comes out of the fog. 

The Sith towers over both of them. Bare chested, red skinned, four arms, clawed hands clutching thick hilted sabers. He bares fangs at them in a mockery of a smile. 

“Jedi Master Satoru Gojo, I have heard many things about you.”

“Can’t say the same about you,” Satoru calls, casually. But the Force is tight around him and it sings danger. “What stinking hole have you crawled your way out of at the demand of your master?”

The Sith growls. “I have no master.”

“See that’s what they always tell their apprentices,” Satoru says. “You aren’t special, angel.”

Golden eyes flare and jump to Megumi who stands half behind Satoru, lightsaber raised. “Is that your Padawan?”

Satoru doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. Megumi stands taller, refusing to cower under the Sith’s attention. 

“He is bright with the Force,” the Sith continues. “Like a flower, new, fresh. What a shame he is your Padawan.” Two sabers dip. “Tell me Padawan, has his darkness touched you yet? Hm. It doesn’t feel like it, how pure you are in the Force.”

“That’s rich,” Megumi calls, “coming from you, murderer.”

The Sith laughs, “you think your Master has never killed? You think he walks in the light when he has slept with darkness.”

Satoru shifts minutely, it draws those golden eyes. 

“Have you told him of your sins? Have you told him about his family?”

The bond between Megumi and Satoru flexes, and for a terrifying moment Megumi thinks that he’s going to leave him alone. But he doesn’t, he stays in the bond and tilts his chin up.

“My Padawan is no concern of yours.” Satoru levels his lightsaber at the Sith. “Hand over the map and I will let you live.”

The Sith sneers, pulls up his blades and charges. 

It starts to rain as the Sith pushes them back fighting with a brutality that has Satoru weidling his blade with both hands. It sizzles on their blades, catching Megumi’s eyes. The fog falls thicker over the top of the mountain, the sea screams with the same anger as the Force. Megumi is panting, arms aching as he is pushed back with Satoru, his Master is defending both of them, making up any slip that Megumi might make. Until he doesn’t catch a swinging blade. 

White hot heat sears across Megumi’s ribs, his robes burn and he lets out a choked sound of pain. Satoru is there in a moment, catching the blade swinging down to end Megumi. He catches it with the Force, stalling both left arms, catching the other two with his blade. He stands above Megumi, white hair glowing magenta, teeth grit. Their bond screams MOVE, so Megumi moves ignoring the pain, rolling out of the way. Satoru throws out his power, knocking the Sith back. He calls rock from nowhere, huge chunks of volcanic rock, and slams it onto the Sith. Once again he’s at Megumi’s side, hands reaching for the burn. 

“Just a burn,” Megumi mutters, hissing when Satoru’s fingers brush it. His master spits a curse. “We found him at least.”

Satoru shakes his head. “I didn’t think it’d be a Sith, and especially not one with four karking lightsabers.” Satoru is tearing at the bottom of his robes, wrapping the coarse material around Megumi’s charred ribs. He looks up at Megumi, his eyes clouded blue, he holds up a code cylinder. 

“Is that–”

“The map, yes.” Satoru pushes it into Megumi’s palm. The pile of rocks rumbles. “You take this and go.” 

Red glows from the largest bolder, the tip of a lightsaber pushes through.

“What?”

“Take it to Coruscant. Give it to the Jedi council, this map has to get off this planet.”

“Satoru–”

Satoru ignores him, helps him to his feet, drawing his lightsaber in the same move. The Sith bursts from the rocks, snarling, gnashing his teeth. He’s bleeding. It scents the air heavily, his blades are the color of blood. With the Force he volleys the same rocks at them. Satoru catches them, a single sharp shard cutting through his ear and across his cheek. He smiles at Megumi. 

“Go.”

“No!”

Satoru pushes him back the way they came and turns back to the Sith. 

“Satoru no!”

“Go, Megumi,” Satoru calls. He advances the Sith charges to kill. 

Megumi follows on clumsy feet, his lightsaber coming to life. The Force around Jedi and Sith is so strong it buffers Megumi back. The bond tells him to go, Satoru tells him to go, he’s keeping the Sith distracted, taking cuts across his arms and face. 

“I am your Padawan!” Megumi calls over the battle. “I won’t leave you!”

“You promised,” Satoru grits.

“I won’t leave you here!”

Satoru cuts a mean burn across one of the arms, slicing it off. The Sith howls, slashes at Satoru with  renewed vigor. Satoru calls the red blade to his hand, crosses red and purple above his head and turns to stare Megumi. 

“Run.”

“No, I’m meant to stay with you. I’m your Padawan.”

“You’re more than that, kid. Get out of here. I’ll win this fight.” Satoru ducks under the  oncoming blades, narrowly missing getting his lobbed off. The Sith kicks him square in the chest, powered by the Force. It flings Satoru back. He hits the ground hard on the other side of the battle, his lightsaber clipping through the air and over the edge of the cliff. 

The Sith turns burning eyes on Megumi and stalks towards him, raising the stump where his arm once was. A pressure encloses Megumi’s throat, squeezing down, crushing the delicate bones in his neck. He’s lifted from the ground, toes brushing the grass, he claws at the invisible hand crushing the life from his lungs. 

A planet shaking crack echoes around them. The Sith stumbles, the hold falters and Megumi is dropped unceremoniously to the buckling ground. Satoru stands behind the Sith, the red lightsaber in his hand casting death across his twisted face. The ground where his feet are planted is tearing itself apart, rising and falling, screaming as a groundquake. The mountain groans in agony as Satoru tears it apart. It takes Megumi a second to realize what Satoru is doing. Ripping the mountain in two to place Megumi outside of the fight. He scrambles away from the rapidly opening trench, the ancient rock that’s being ripped from the center of the mountain. 

The Sith laughs high and cruel. He swivels around to saunter towards Satoru, stumbling only slightly. 

“The red suits you! Look at your power, look at your pain!”

The side of the mountain Megumi is on is tipping towards the sea.

Go screams the bond. Go, save them.

Megumi grits his teeth but turns and runs, sliding as the mountain falls, but he can see a ledge, a safe way down and then the bond screams in agony. 

Megumi turns, gasping in pain. Satoru has stumbled, bent over the blade that’s sunk into his stomach. Megumi draws his lightsaber, yelling into the cacophony, charging back towards the Sith. Satoru looks up at him, color draining from his wet face, hair plastered over his bleeding forehead, he thrusts out a hand. 

The mountain crumbles away beneath Megumi’s feet and he’s flung over the cliff, pushed by the Force. He thinks papa , before his world goes dark and cold.