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The annual school community picnic was exactly the sort of event Din Djarin preferred to survive rather than enjoy.
Children shrieked across the playground.
Parents chatted in little circles.
Teachers wandered between tables.
Someone was grilling nerf burgers.
Someone else was organizing sack races.
It was loud.
Chaotic.
Harmless.
Which somehow made Din more nervous than a bounty hunt.
He stood near the edge of the crowd, hands folded behind his back, trying very hard to disappear.
Unfortunately…
A six-foot man covered head to toe in polished beskar with a T-shaped visor was physically incapable of blending in.
He accepted this with a sigh.
A warm little hand slipped into his gloved one.
“Daddy!”
Din looked down.
Grogu smiled brightly.
“C’mon!”
He tugged enthusiastically.
Din let himself be dragged.
Again.
“This is my friend Owen!”
A freckled little boy stared up with enormous eyes.
Grogu announced proudly,
“This is my daddy.”
Din inclined his helmet politely.
“Hello.”
Grogu added, with all the enthusiasm in the world—
“He shoots bad guys!”
Din closed his eyes behind the visor.
“…Buddy.”
“What?”
“You… don’t have to lead with that.”
“But it’s true.”
“…Technically.”
Owen looked completely awestruck.
“Whoa…”
Five minutes later…
“This is Lily!”
“…This is my daddy!”
“He shoots bad guys!”
“…Buddy.”
Another five minutes.
“This is Ben!”
“My daddy catches criminals!”
“…Close enough.”
Another introduction.
“My daddy fights pirates!”
“…Sometimes.”
Another.
“My daddy’s the bravest person ever!”
Din’s ears warmed beneath the helmet.
“Grogu…”
“What?”
“You don’t have to tell everybody.”
“I like telling everybody.”
“I noticed.”
By lunchtime, half the boys in third and fourth grade had somehow discovered Mr. Djarin.
They followed him around like curious tookas.
Din found himself sitting at a picnic table absolutely surrounded.
Children.
Parents trying to collect their children.
Teachers smiling knowingly.
Grogu sat proudly beside him, happily eating fruit.
One little boy raised a hand.
“Were you ever in a space battle?”
“A few.”
Another.
“Have you fought monsters?”
“Yes.”
“Bigger than a rancor?”
“…One or two.”
Collective gasps.
Another hand.
“What’s your favorite weapon?”
“My ship.”
Grogu interrupted immediately.
“No it’s not.”
Din looked down.
“…Excuse me?”
“It’s your flamethrower.”
A pause.
“…Sometimes.”
“I knew it.”
The table erupted into giggles.
Another child leaned forward.
“Do you wear the armor all the time?”
“Almost.”
“Even sleeping?”
“No.”
“Whew.”
Another hand.
“Are bounty hunters superheroes?”
Din considered.
“I think heroes try to help people.”
“So…”
“I try.”
Grogu nodded emphatically.
“I told you.”
More questions.
“What’s the scariest thing you ever fought?”
“Do blasters hurt?”
“Can I have armor?”
“How fast is your ship?”
Din answered every one with remarkable patience.
He’d learned, over the years, that children deserved honest answers.
Just…
Age-appropriate ones.
Then—
One quiet little girl asked,
“Mr. Djarin…”
He turned toward her.
“…Yes?”
“Have you ever almost died?”
Everything stopped.
The table went silent.
Even the parents looked uncomfortable.
Din hesitated.
How exactly was he supposed to answer that?
Honestly?
Comfortingly?
Without terrifying a group of nine-year-olds?
Before he could decide—
Grogu answered.
“Oh.”
His little voice was matter-of-fact.
“He almost died lots of times.”
Din slowly looked toward him.
Grogu wasn’t smiling anymore.
“It’s really scary.”
The table stayed silent.
Grogu stared down at his plate.
Quietly…
“I don’t like that part of Daddy’s job.”
The words were so small.
So heartbreakingly sincere.
Din felt something twist painfully inside his chest.
One of the teachers gently redirected the conversation.
“So…”
“Who wants dessert?”
The spell broke.
Children scattered.
The chatter returned.
But Din noticed Grogu stayed unusually close for the rest of the afternoon.
Whenever they walked…
His little hand stayed firmly wrapped around Din’s.
⸻
That evening, after dinner…
After baths…
After dishes…
The house had gone quiet.
Din found Grogu sitting on the porch steps, knees tucked to his chest.
Watching the sunset.
Din sat beside him.
Neither spoke for a long while.
Finally…
“You’ve been thinking.”
Grogu nodded.
“…Yeah.”
“Wanna tell me?”
Another nod.
“I don’t like your job.”
Din smiled sadly.
“I know.”
“I don’t like that you almost die.”
“…I know.”
Grogu’s voice wobbled.
“What if…”
He swallowed.
“What if one time…”
“…you don’t come home?”
Din’s heart broke.
He reached over, gently lifting Grogu into his lap despite the boy insisting lately that he was “too big.”
Tonight…
He didn’t protest.
He simply curled into Din’s chest the way he had when he was much smaller.
Din wrapped both arms around him.
“You know something?”
“What?”
“I’ve had a lot of reasons to survive over the years.”
Grogu listened quietly.
“But none of them are bigger than you.”
He rested his cheek lightly against Grogu’s hair.
“When I go on a mission…”
“I’m always thinking about coming home.”
“To you.”
Grogu looked up.
“Really?”
Din nodded.
“Every single time.”
“When things get dangerous…”
“I fight harder.”
“Because I know who’s waiting for me.”
“You.”
Grogu’s eyes shimmered.
“I don’t ever want to leave you.”
Din smiled softly.
“And that’s exactly why I always do everything I can to come back.”
He gently tapped Grogu over the heart.
“Your love keeps me going.”
“It reminds me what I’m fighting for.”
Grogu considered that carefully.
“…I keep you safe?”
Din chuckled.
“In a way.”
“You give me something worth protecting.”
“And something worth coming home to.”
Grogu wrapped both arms tightly around his father’s middle.
“I’ll always wait for you.”
Din hugged him back with quiet certainty.
“And I’ll always fight to get back to you.”
There were no promises that no danger would ever come.
No promises that life would always be fair.
Din knew better than to make promises he couldn’t guarantee.
Instead, he made the one promise he knew he could always keep.
“I will never stop trying to come home.”
Grogu nodded against his chest.
“…Okay.”
They stayed on the porch until the stars came out.
Father and son.
Neither one saying another word.
Neither one needing to.