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Anakin stared at the Pokémon in front of him. This was not supposed to happen. The last time he’d even seen a dark type was by the side of the man who had taken his arm. An absol… He should have known the moment he saw it. Anakin couldn’t possibly have faced Dooku alone, just like his eevee couldn’t have faced that absol. If Yoda and his alakazam hadn’t appeared, who knows what could have happened?
When his eevee had approached Anakin that day in the temple, he couldn’t have been happier. It was the same Pokémon his master once had, before he evolved into his espeon. A good sign, they’d said. It was said jedi with psychic type Pokémon were experts in calming their minds. And Obi-Wan was. Anakin couldn’t count the amount of times Obi-Wan had calmly sat in meditation while Anakin’s ever racing mind would not stop going over the same worries, the same fears, the same pain from the past. Anakin had expected a flareon to match the fire in his heart, or a jolteon like the stormclouds in his mind. He had not expected the umbreon now standing in front of him.
He hadn’t shown anyone yet. His eevee had evolved when he came back into his chambers, when his flesh hand was stroking the soft brown fur, staring at the little creature and wondering when it would happen. And then it did.
The umbreon stared at Anakin. Where his big black eyes had once been was a reddish brown hue now. However, the same intelligence was hiding behind them, the same understanding. Anakin wanted to be mad at him, but he couldn’t. This was the same eevee still, the one that had curled up on his lap when he had lost his arm and his mother on the same day, the one that would provide the warmth he had needed so much. This umbreon loved him. And how could he hate him for it? The only person he could hate was himself. What kind of jedi was he that got a dark type?
It was like the umbreon waited for something. In the dim light of the one lamp he’d dared to turn on, the rings on his body glowed faintly. A gentle light, like the moons of Tatooine. It gently pushed his face onto his hand, as if asking for the same love Anakin longed for, ever since Padmé had rejected him. When he stroked his fur with his flesh hand, it seemed colder yet softer than before.
“At least I can still pet you,” Anakin said, smiling faintly. A flareon would have been much more uncomfortable to pet, and a jolteon would have been even worse. “I —”
His words were interrupted by a knock on the door. His body tensed up again and he shook his head silently, as if that could make the person on the other side go away.
“Anakin?”
Obi-Wan. Of course it was Obi-Wan. Why couldn’t he leave him alone? All he had to do was ignore this problem, as he had so many other times. He wanted to yell at him through the door to go away, but nothing came out when he opened his mouth.
“You’ve not come out for a day. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Anakin said, narrowly keeping his voice from breaking. It was silent for a little bit. Anakin hoped it had worked and Obi-Wan had gone away, but before he’d even finished that thought, he realized that now that his master was gone, he wished he would try again.
Another knock and Obi-Wan’s voice again, as if he’d heard him. “Please let me in, Anakin.”
So he would not go away. How could he even start to explain? Obi-Wan had always been the perfect jedi. Obi-Wan would never get an umbreon. He’d probably never even thought of that possibility. Another knock, and finally, Anakin managed to rise to his feet. He unlocked the door and opened it a little bit.
“What’s going on?”
Obi-Wan’s brow was furrowed slightly and his eyes looked up at him with a gaze that hadn’t changed since Anakin had been a ten year old padawan, despite his growth. Anakin couldn’t help but give in. “Come in,” he said, opening the door just a little wider, “close the door behind you.”
And he did. Anakin looked anxiously down the hall as Obi-Wan opened the door far too widely. His umbreon was still behind him, most of it camouflaged well in the dark. Except for those rings.
“What is going — oh.”
He’d seen it. And how could he not have? His umbreon had come forward a bit from behind Anakin’s legs, curiously looking at the espeon that was trailing Obi-Wan.
“I did not expect that.”
“You should have.”
Obi-Wan frowned deeper and pulled up a chair. In the silence in between them, the dragging of its legs over the floor seemed deafening. Anakin didn’t dare look him in the eyes when Obi-Wan finally spoke: “what do you mean?”
“I’ve never been a good jedi.” Anakin sighed and sat down on his bed. “You know that.”
It was quiet for so long that Anakin worried Obi-Wan would agree wholeheartedly, and he just wouldn’t know how to say it. He stared at Obi-Wan’s espeon, with its pink fur and bright blue eyes. It always seemed to judge you, looking through you. Its big ears heard every little noise, every creak and softest sigh. It looked powerful, strong, and yet, when Anakin petted it, it was friendly and kind. It now sat at Obi-Wan’s feet, its split tail curled around itself. Watching. Waiting. “Anakin, you are not a bad jedi.”
Anakin laughed bitterly. “Don’t. I know you think I am.”
“I don’t!” Obi-Wan answered so quickly, with so much offense, even his normally so serene espeon fluttered an ear and looked up. “Why do you think such a thing?”
“You’re always criticizing. It’s never good enough! And I’m — I’m angry all the time. And now,” he gestured to the umbreon that had gone back behind Anakin’s feet after Obi-Wan’s outburst, “this.”
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started, his voice now soft and gentle, “I criticize you because I know you’re good and strong. Because I know your potential to do good. And look at you!” He shook his head with a slight smile. “A knight at nineteen. I was right, was I not?” He paused for a second to look at the Pokémon hiding behind Anakin’s legs. “And just because you have a dark type, doesn’t mean you are a bad jedi.”
“Is that what master Yoda said to Dooku?”
Obi-Wan shook his head and looked away. “Anakin…”
“What did they say when an absol of all Pokémon chose him?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I wasn’t there.”
There was a tone in his voice that made Anakin shudder. He always had that tone when he wanted Anakin to stop talking, to stop thinking about his fears. “This is not fair.”
“No. It is not.” Obi-Wan sighed and put one hand, gently, on the head of his espeon. “If it would have given you peace of mind I too would have wanted you to have gotten a different evolution. But this umbreon is here now.” He held out his hand and Anakin’s umbreon stepped forward. Slowly. Carefully. He stretched out his head as far as he could and then sniffed Obi-Wan’s hand. As soon as he smelled it, he relaxed. Came closer. “He’s still yours.”
“I know.”
“So, what is the difference?”
“The typing.” Anakin looked down at the two Pokémon and immediately felt guilty. “Everyone will judge me when they see him.”
“They will not.”
“You don’t understand,” Anakin said. He avoided Obi-Wan’s strong gaze and looked instead at their Pokémon. Obi-Wan carefully petted Anakin’s umbreon and to his surprise, the umbreon leaned into it. “You have the perfect Pokémon.”
Obi-Wan laughed. “I am sure he is very flattered.”
Anakin tried to laugh at the joke, but couldn’t. “It’s what everyone would have wanted for me. To be like you.”
“You’re not like me.” Obi-Wan got up, but Anakin still couldn’t look him in the eyes, not even when he sat down next to Anakin on his bed. He was so close, he could feel the heat of his body, even through the three layers of tunic. “I like that.”
“You do?”
“It’s just a different kind of typing,” Obi-Wan said. “Like we have a different kind of fighting style.”
“But…” Anakin opened his mouth to say something, to protest, but he couldn’t. Anakin’s umbreon had found Obi-Wan’s hand again, and let itself be pet with a content expression on his face. Strangely, Anakin found himself jealous.
“It just means your umbreon hunts in the dark. That isn’t strange. Many Pokémon do.”
“You don’t think it makes me bad?”
“Dooku was a great jedi. Nobody doubted that. He was misled by his own idealism, not by some kind of innate evil.”
Anakin nodded, finally dared to look up now. Obi-Wan’s hand was near his, Obi-Wan’s face so awfully close. There was something sad behind those blue eyes, almost grey in this light. Something unspoken.
“Anakin.”
“Yes, master?” That word once felt so heavy and now, so easy. So simple. “I mean, yes?”
“You will be the greatest jedi that ever lived.” Then his hand inched over and with a surprisingly tight grip, Obi-Wan took Anakin’s hand. “I know that.”
Anakin smiled for the first time that day. “You do?”
“I do.”
They were so close Anakin could feel Obi-Wan’s hot breath as he spoke, the words so soft not even their Pokémon could hear them. Obi-Wan lifted his other hand and stroked Anakin’s cheek. It was so careful, barely a touch. Like he was afraid.
“Obi-Wan?”
“You’re so perfect,” his master whispered, “how could you not be?”
Anakin wanted to answer, wanted to ask what he meant, but before he could even open his mouth, Obi-Wan’s lips were on his, his scratchy beard against Anakin’s soft lips. And Anakin closed his eyes and leaned in.
Under them an umbreon and an espeon had laid down entangled in each other like they always had been like that.