Unconventional Conventions

By PerilousPie

Synopsis: Tag to "Return of the Old Masters". Light saber training is sometimes a little more like playing catch. The backyard is the Lothal plain, the mitt a light saber, the baseball a piece of trash, and the father and son master and padawan.

Luminara Unduli was dead. It felt fresh and raw, not a many year old pain, because even the breath of a rumour which pointed to life and survival was worth placing all of your hope in. Kanan felt hopeless and lost. It had been initially inspiring finding out that Ezra was a force user, one strong in the force. Then, as Kanan realized he had to train the boy, he'd come to a realization: Kanan Jarrus was no Jedi Master, barely a padawan himself. He'd mastered his skills in the force by intuition and reiterating the lessons his master had taught him. He made a very poor teacher. Ezra also made a difficult student, he was much older than the average padawan, had a complicated past and was in a volatile environment that was a far cry from the peaceful and strict regime of the temple on Coruscant.

After a terrible life on the street, orphaned and suffering, Ezra deserved some sort of stability. Kanan was not a stable teacher. The initiates and eventual padawans were precious to the Jedi order, valued highly and carefully taught and protected. Normally a padawan was surrounded by teachers and aides, care takers and given everything they would need to flourish. Kanan couldn't provide all that, but he'd at least hoped to provide a real teacher.

So when he said Ezra was stuck with him, he was insulting only himself, and the pain fresh from the realization clouded his eyes to the fact that Ezra was switching the subjects in that sentence to him being stuck with Ezra. The placement meant everything to the boy and the whole incident was creating a rift between the two of pain and a lack of self-esteem.

It took Kanan walking down the docking bay ramp to speak to Ezra for him to realize the mistake he'd made.

"Look, don't bother saying it," Ezra started to speak from his seated position on the ramp.

Kanan raised his brows at the tone.

"I'm letting you off the hook," Ezra said firmly, eyes downcast and not looking at Kanan.

Kanan was confused.

"What are you talking about?" Kanan asked.

Ezra stood up, taking a few steps away from Kanan, with his arms wrapped around himself.

"I know you wanted to dump me with Luminara. Just because she's gone doesn't mean you're stuck with me."

Kanan was taken aback. Dump Ezra? He was more of the thought that Ezra should want to dump him.

"I don't want to dump you," Kanan paused, feeling woefully inadequate.

Ezra turned to him, guarded blue eyes weighing the honesty of his statement.

"Look, I just wanted you to have the best teacher," Kanan explained.

Ezra's expression of rejection and hurt, but determined fortitude, quickly switched to his boyish defiance.

"Well, I don't want the best teacher. I want you," Ezra proclaimed, he hesitated though before hastily adding, "uh, not that you're not the best."

Kanan let a small smile come onto his face at the end comment.

"I'm not going to try teach you anymore," Kanan said determinedly.

That look of rejection and hurt slipped on and off Ezra's face, a stoic knowing look replacing it.

"If all I do is try, that means I don't truly believe I can succeed."

Ezra looked hopeful again, but wary.

"Look, I may fail," Ezra warned.

Kanan smiled giving a nod.

"You may fail. But there is no try," Kanan replied, feeling like this could work, that he could actually be some kind of teacher.

"I understand master," Ezra replied, a smile on his face.

"Let's see if you do," Kanan replied, taking his own light saber from his belt and handing it to Ezra.

Ezra took it, delight in his gaze. Kanan went inside to grab some of their trash and came back out. Ezra was standing there, grinning expectantly with the light saber at the ready. Kanan then tossed the trash. Ezra hit it and he felt a sense of pride. Ezra was his student. Kanan continued, pleased at the harmony between him and his padawan. It felt nice even though he knew that this wasn't exactly how the training had worked for him as a padawan. There was never just one teacher, and it was always in a training room.

Here on Lothal with the tall grass around them and the soft sunset in the background after a grueling day, it felt more like coming home. Ezra was a good kid, a great kid still filled with compassion and a desire to do good despite growing up in a world which showed no compassion. If Kanan had to have a kid, well, he would want them to be like Ezra.

Ezra, even with his eyes closed, was grinning. Kanan was glad the boy could be so happy. He realized, with a strange happy burst in his chest, that he would do everything in his power to help this kid grow up into a jedi.

When they finished and Ezra handed back the light saber, Kanan turned to look at the nearly set sun.

"It's beautiful," he commented.

"Yeah," Ezra said, voice soft with contemplation, "my parents used to take me out on picnics sometimes, we'd watch the sunset before heading home."

Kanan glanced at his padawan who had volunteered such a personal piece of information. Ezra was staring off at the horizon, eyes weighed with grief. Kanan drew an arm around Ezra and pulled him into a side hug. Ezra stiffened at first before melting into the embrace. They sat there until the sun disappeared and it grew dark.

"Let's head home," Kanan said.

The two stepped back into the ship.