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“Hello, Master Qui-Gon.”
Qui-Gon looked around the room, and all the younglings were staring at him, eyes full of excitement and anticipation.
“Our class today will be a bit different.” He said that mysteriously. A hint of curiosity and confusion climbed into the younglings’ eyes that were on him.
“I invited a special guest.”
“A guest?” A Ikkukkian youngling who was standing at the front asked. Qui-Gon looked down, looking into that pair of turquoise-blue eyes. He ruffled the boy’s hair gently.
“Yes, Berin. A master skilled in lightsaber combat.”
The door to the training room slid open, and a slightly aging Jedi Master walked in, his cloak swaying gently behind him with each measured step. The younglings tensed up, watching in silence as the elegantly dressed and impeccably composed elder Jedi came to a halt beside Qui-Gon. As if asking for some reassurance, they instinctively turned back to Qui-Gon, hoping for some comfort from the friendlier master whom they were much more familiar with.
“This is Master Dooku.” Qui-Gon smiled at the younglings, “My Master.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle at the few surprised faces. He continued, “Yes, he trained the young Qui-Gon Jinn, who was barely a few years older than you. And there was another apprentice before me, Rael Averross, as some of you might know him.” Qui-Gon stepped aside, leaving the center place for Dooku.
“Now, say hello to Master Dooku.”
Although the younglings found the stern Jedi a little intimidating, the Jedi training they had received so far taught them well to treat everyone with respect and politeness, let alone someone as powerful as a Jedi Master.
“Hello, Master Dooku.”
It was only after hearing those words that Dooku stopped being silent, speaking for the first time after his arrival, “Greetings, Initiates. Just as Master Qui-Gon said, he was once my Padawan.”
“Then…what are you here for today, Master Dooku?” One of the younglings asked.
Dooku glanced at Qui-Gon, and without his old Master's saying a word, the younger Jedi already understood. He stepped in smoothly, “Now, what did I say we’d be talking about today?”
“Form II Makashi.”
“That’s correct.” Qui-Gon nodded. “And Master Dooku’s an expert in Form II. I believe he is more suited to explain and demonstrate Makashi than I. I still lean toward Form IV, I’m afraid.” He smirked at the last part.
“Ignite your lightsabers, initiates.”
With a calm, deliberate motion, Dooku ignited his own lightsaber following his instruction to the younglings, its blue blade humming to life. He then began demonstrating the basic movements of Makashi. Qui-Gon was listening intently at the side. He didn’t have much interaction with Dooku as a youngling. His Heliost Clan was under the responsibility of Master Sinube back then. It was actually his first time hearing Dooku teaching the basics of lightsaber combat.
Not that different from when he talked about other things, Qui-Gon thought as he listened. Just like his Master himself, very organized and methodical. But probably because the audience this time was a group of young children, Dooku slowed his pace and offered extra explanations for anything that might be difficult to understand.
But at times, it was still just as boring. Qui-Gon stifled a quiet chuckle behind a fake cough into his sleeve. He and Rael were probably the only ones who dared to poke fun at the seemingly unapproachable Jedi Master. Qui-Gon knew Dooku must have noticed his laughter, but he didn’t mind. His master wouldn’t do much about it. It would at most just be some teasing remarks once the lesson was over.
Maybe it was his privilege as Dooku’s Padawan.
After the detailed explanation came a round of simple practice. Dooku paced around the room, walking among the Jedi initiates who were barely half as tall as him. He adjusted several younglings’ stances, occasionally demonstrating the move himself. Dooku soon noticed a human girl whose every swing carried a great force. It wasn’t that Makashi required no strength, but something about her energy and style told him she was better built for Ataru.
An hour passed quickly, and the lesson soon drew to a close. As Qui-Gon announced the lesson’s over, the younglings flew out of the training room, calling out “Thank you, Masters!” as they went. Dooku and Qui-Gon were the only two remaining in the room.
Dooku cast a glance at his former Padawan, who was standing beside him with his hands folded neatly beneath his sleeves, calm and composed. Dooku arched one of his brows, “ I noticed that my teaching seems to…entertain you.”
“Forgive me, Master.” Qui-Gon said with a faint smirk, “It was my first time hearing it, after all.”
Dooku snorted and went on, “That human girl reminded me of you back in the day.” Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow and looked over at his former master. Dooku met his gaze, clasping his hands behind his back.
“Come now, my old Padawan. Let your old master see your Form II.”
Qui-Gon gave him a look, half disbelief, half amusement. “Obi-Wan is fifteen years old!” he protested.
Dooku only shot him a glance. “The young Padawan has turned into a Jedi Master.”
Almost instinctively, Qui-Gon felt the urge to do whatever Dooku told him, just like he used to when he was a boy. He sighed and took his lightsaber from his belt. Qui-Gon walked to the center of the training room, took the opening stance of Makashi, and began to perform through the motions of Form II.
His move was smooth and seamless. Dooku stood off to the side, watching thoughtfully. The basic sequence ended quickly, and Qui-Gon deactivated his lightsaber, turning to face him. “Too much force, too much movement. Not refined enough,” Dooku commented. “Too many traces of Form IV.”
Qui-Gon blinked. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to him like that. For a moment, he felt as if he were that boy again, trailing behind Master Dooku, eager to learn.
“Third Stance.”
Qui-Gon hummed in acknowledgement and activated his lightsaber again, taking the third stance. Dooku walked over, adjusting the position of Qui-Gon’s right hand.
“It should be a little higher on this side.” Dooku said quietly. Qui-Gon could feel the elder’s hand and its perfectly measured pressure. He could also catch the familiar scent his master always carried. The scenario had happened countless times. Too many that Qui-Gon had once taken for granted. He always knew that one day he would leave Dooku’s side and become a Jedi Knight in his own right, going to the outer rim where he believed his duties lay and helping whoever he could. Maybe even one day take on a little Padawan of his own, passing on what he had learned from Master Dooku and what he always believed. But for the ten years of his life since he became Dooku’s Padawan at the age of twelve, staying by his master’s side had become something of a habit. The meticulous Jedi Master could maintain an air of elegance and solemnity in front of everyone, but Qui-Gon could always tell the emotions hidden behind it. He forgot which master once said that Dooku and he were inseparable. He was actually quite happy with the comment. Qui-Gon knew Dooku held him in high regard and valued his potential.
It wasn’t until he knelt before Dooku, the Master’s blue lightsaber hovering with perfect precision over his shoulders, and heard that most familiar voice above him say, “By the right of the Council, by the will of the Force, I name thee Jedi, Knight of the Republic--protector of the light.” followed by the soft snip of his Padawan braid being severed, that he truly felt the weight of that inseparable bond come to an end.
Qui-Gon lifted his right hand slightly, following the guidance of the other’s touch. Dooku gave an approving nod, then pointed out a few other adjustments, which Qui-Gon all followed without question.
“Still my Master.” Qui-Gon lowered his head slightly and chuckled to himself. Dooku couldn’t help but smile a little as well, giving his former Padawan a light pat on the shoulder. He had almost reached up to tousle Qui-Gon’s hair out of habit, just as he used to when Qui-Gon was still a boy. His hand was already halfway there before he caught himself, realizing that the child who once tended so carefully to a small wildflower had grown into such a reliable Jedi Master.
Dooku let out a soft sigh, the pride in his voice unmistakable.
“And you, my Padawan.”
END.