His life is blood and chaos and death, detonators and droids and pain, laserfire and cannon thunder and fallen brothers. Even in between battles, there's little rest - training consumes his 'free' time. Training with blasters, training with detonators, with vibroblades of varying lengths, in hand-to-hand, piloting drills, medical training - anything and everything has a way to train, and he takes advantage of it all.
He has to be the best. He has to. There is no other option, because only the best survive, and only the survivors can keep his brothers safe. Only the survivors can remember the fallen.
Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.
There are too many names for him to say them all, but he remembers each name - each number, too, but the numbers are less important. It's the names that matter. It's the names that keep him awake, and the names that haunt his sleep when he finally manages to close his eyes. It's the names that draw him away from the army, and it's the names that keep calling him back.
It's the names that call him hero, and it's the names that call him coward. But there is no word for 'hero' in Mando'a.
Idly, he traces the Jaig eyes on his helmet. No, there is no word for hero.