"Alright, saber up."

Anakin followed, raising his arms and holding his lightsaber forward. The blade was short and green, giving off a hum that was gentler than that of a true Jedi-crafted blade.

"Ready stance."

The arms were moved, angling the blade a bit, and boots shifted and planted sturdily on the training mat a few feet apart. Anakin crouched slightly, relaxing his knees, just like he had been taught.

"Very good. Form Three is otherwise known as ..."

"Soresu."

"And?"

"And the Way of the Mynock ... and the Resilience Form."

"What are its basic traits?"

"It's a non-aggressive form that relies on tight bladework and subtle dodges, providing maximum defence coverage."

"Anything more?"

"Um ... it is alike to Makashi."

"In which ways?"

"It, uh ... is energy efficient and economizes use of motion."

"Well done, Padawan."

Anakin grinned, spinning his saber in his grip once before taking a bow before his Master.

Obi-Wan returned the gesture from his place seated crossed legged on the mat a few feet away from the boy. The training area was quiet this early in the day, which provided a serene environment ideal for the kind of drills he ran with the boy. Sunlight was just beginning to peek into the tall windows, hum of traffic growing audible as the city planet outside began to wake.

"At ease, young one."

The shoulders were loosened and feet returned to centre position as Anakin obeyed.

"Now, once you are centred in the Force, we can begin with a few reflexive drills."

"Yes, Master."

Obi-Wan watched attentively as Anakin's breathing slowed, quieting and stilling his movements. He was getting better at performing simple meditations such as these and not accidentally falling asleep, which was an improvement; it was a common error for young ones, and one Obi-Wan knew he hadn't been immune to himself.

As an apprentice, some of Obi-Wan's fondest memories were that of saber drills and katas sessions with his Master. Qui-Gon had always been fond of early rises, and Obi-Wan continued the tradition with his own Padawan. Thought he knew well of the boy's chagrin at waking up in the morning - at anytime, mind you - Obi-Wan also was not surprised Anakin rose even earlier than he on days when they planned to train.

It was every Younglings dream to one day wield a lightsaber in battle, and there were rarely any days void of the little ones running through the Halls of the Jedi Temple making the characteristic humming noise and play fighting with their peers. The hopes of Initiates were high during History classes, learning of the legendary excursions made to the caves of Illum by Jedi generations before, facing the trials and temptations of the caverns to pass the ultimate test and craft a blade of their very own.

As a Padawan, Anakin's excitement of mastering a lightsaber came as no surprise. All of these previous stages of excitement and anticipation were condensed into the boy, considering his late start in the Order, and Obi-Wan had to suppress a smile each time he looked upon him throughout these sessions. During drills, Anakin was composed and reserved, extremely alert and responsive; when relaxed, the boy inside him came out again, eyes bright and excited and eager. Some may say overeager, but Obi-Wan did not. The joy he radiated in the Force was blindingly contagious.

After some time, Obi-Wan rose to his feet, quietly as to not disturb, moving to the wall behind him lined with a few storage units to retrieve a training remote for some deflection practice. However, footsteps pattered excitedly to his side, eliciting a soft chuckle too quiet for the boy to hear.

"Y'know Master Drallig said that he'd be organizing a group of Initiates to visit the Upper District? They're gonna help to choose the durasteel sheets used to make sabre casings!"

Obi-Wan nodded, fiddling with the power cell of the remote as he listened, "Master Drallig is very keen to get a saber into the hands of any Jedi. He believes the art form we learn is crucial and the development of any Jedi at any point in their training, especially early on."

"When did you get your first real lightsaber?"

"I was just a standard year or so older than you are now."

"Is Illum as cold as people say?"

" Colder."

"Wizard ... Jiri Wells went just last week and built her saber, and she got so cold she caught frostbite! I stayed away from her though."

"I don't doubt it. The art of making a saber requires intense concentration and meditation, and it is easy to lose oneself to time; under the extremities, injuries can occur quickly. A Master must be diligent in monitoring their apprentices condition."

"You wouldn't let me freeze, would you?"

Obi-Wan smiled slyly, "As much as I would like to try, no."

"Ah, I'm rubbing off on you, aren't I?" Anakin teased, tossing his lightsaber from hand to hand. His Master scoffed.

"And for the record, frostbite is acquired, it is not contagious. You can't catch it from someone else."

Anakin nodded, a relief coming over his face, "Oh. That's good; I was worried."

The young Master flicked his head in the direction the larger sparring mat, and Anakin followed and went to it. It was a better place for remote drills thanks to the soft cushion it provided, perfect for catching startled falls in wake of the gentle shocks one received after an error stroke. By far, Anakin took advantage of the mat, and it was an accomplishment to leave his remote drills without having fallen at least five or six times.

Anakin stood in the centre of the mat, sending some blood to his muscles by bouncing on the toes of his boots. Obi-Wan had taught him that trick. "How high is the setting?"

"Only zero decimal five."

"… could you turn it down a little?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, "The motivation to deflect shots comes greatly from the consequence of being struck, Padawan."

It was the same phrase Obi-Wan gave him every time he asked this, which was every time they did remote drill. That didn't mean Anakin stopped asking, however.

"It's only that ... I feel like I could drop my sabre if I get hit! Then, I'll cut my whole foot off! I'll be maimed - "

"Your practice saber is barely just powerful enough to burn."

"I could accidentally... throw it?"

"There is this mystical element called the Force; I'm sure you've heard of it." Obi-Wan quipped, pressing a few buttons on the controller and letting the remote hover up from his palm, "You should be happy I haven't introduced you to the blast helmet yet."

"Blast helmet? What, you mean this isn't even as bad as it's going to get?"

The concern in the boy's tone was not as worried as the look in his blue eyes.

"Sabre up, ready stance."

Anakin obeyed, turning the grimace on his face a reluctance to one of determination. That was a quality in him that Obi-Wan hoped he would never lose: Turning his frustration or reluctance or hesitance into motivation, filtering the strong feelings into the force and out through his body into physical drive.

The small, round Marksman-H approached the boy and hovered at shoulder height, moving left and right an erratic jumps; right now, it was only programmed to be mildly adaptive. If one were attentive enough, picking up on its programmed body target zones and its strategic movements would be simple. Soon, Anakin would graduate to practicing against the droid with its intelligence setting active, allowing the droid able to learn its opponent moves and strategize against them. That required and entire different set of skills, and eventually with out the aid of one's eyes the Force would be needed almost entirely in order to succeed.

Anakin was faring well, a little more alert early on than usual. It often took a few stings to get him into a mode of immersion in the Force and concentration, the slight tinges of pain just enough motivation. Obi-Wan watched carefully as he paced slowly around the mat, noting how the boy used his sabre to parry with a loose and flexible wrist.

He's utilizing sun djem techniques, Obi-Wan noticed subtly by the characteristic defensive slashes of his blade. This Form I technique was not unuseful, but it was not something Obi-Wan had told the boy about yet, not even in passing.

This didn't concern Obi-Wan strongly, but he highly doubted that Anakin had been doing any light reading on lightsaber techniques and his spare time.

It could be that one of his peers had passed it on. Or maybe Master Drallig had mentioned it?

"Kriff!"

An inhaled sound of pain through clenched teeth, and Anakin was down on the mat, the sting hitting his calf.

"Language, young one."

"That hurt," Anakin replied in a wine, rubbing the spot to relieve the burn a bit.

Obi-Wan pause the remote, "You were alert from the start, which is an improvement. What did you fail to observe?"

"I was focused on body targets one, two, and three but forgot that eventually the droid would stop going for what I could block." Anakin took the outstretched hand of his Master and stood again, "Was my stance too wide again? I remembered that last time you said my feet could be closer together; I read up on some Form One techniques that said 'a ready stance should be comfortable but wary, no tension and no hesitation', and -"

Anakin stopped himself, seeing Obi-Wan's eyebrows lift slightly and the blue-grey eyes blink as they met his own.

"There's 'The Look' again." The boy huffed, "Am I talking too fast?"

"You are saying too many things at once. Clarify your words, Padawan."

"The Look", branded by Anakin himself, was one he knew better than any command, could recognize within half-seconds, and always understood. Obi-Wan usually could not consciously acknowledge he was giving it, until Anakin responded however, and it only irked him a tiny bit that his Padawan was this keen; it kept the boy on his toes without his Master having to pester him so often.

"I felt tense, just now, in my ready stance, but you didn't seem to mind. Should I adjust it Master?"

"Let me see ... saber up, in ready stance."

Obi-Wan said as he placed the remote down, moving to assess the boy. Eyes scanned as he walked, taking in the form that was increasingly growing to meet his own height, but still soft as a youngling's was, void of that battle-hardened edge of a Jedi still.

Feet widened, arms extended ... yes, Obi-Wan detected the tension that accompanied the position. He placed a hand on Anakin's left shoulder, both of which were raised, drawing attention there.

"You were right in saying your feet can be closer in position, which you've already corrected slightly. Let the weight of your arms allow your shoulders to fall more naturally; tension there allows precision, but is quickly fatiguing."

Anakin nodded, feeling the change as he relaxed. "Yeah ... that's better. Form One defensive stances all call for precision, that's probably what I was caught up on."

"That is correct; defensive stances also call for wariness, but not at the expense of ease of motion. I also saw you were utilizing some elements of sun djem. Which methodology of Form One have you been referring to?"

"Um, it was just a beginner's guide I think."

That tone was, unfortunately for Anakin, all too telling of something suspicious. Obi-Wan waited, the question in his eyes silent, and the boy sighed heavily in guilt.

"Alright, alright, it was … I didn't want you to be upset - "

"When you keeps things from me, Padawan, no matter the motive, I am already upset. There is nothing you should hide from me."

"I know." Anakin averted his gaze, "It's not like that … it isn't something bad."

Obi-Wan did not show the confusion he felt, remaining neutral. He knew the boy was not lying in that what he was withholding was not something wrong. But what, then?

Anakin left his side for a moment, retreating to his knapsack tossed along the wall of the room, and returning. A small bound book was in his hands, made of flimsiplast, the pages slightly yellowed from age. It looked almost like a journal.

"Here. I found it in our quarters."

Obi-Wan accepted the book, smoothing a hand over the blank cover before opening it. The inside leaf read in scribbled Aurebesh, "Insights and Inquiries into Extended Form I Techniques" and below it was signed, "Qui-Gon Jinn".

Obi-Wan was sure he had seen this before, if only in passing glance in the times his Master called him into his sleeping chambers. Those times were few and far between, mostly out of a respect of Qui-Gon's privacy; nearly every moment of his Padawanhood was spent at the man's side, so allowing one another a sacred place of privacy was an agreement made between them. But like all secret places, it held an air of mystery and marvel that certainly was much more wondrous in Obi-Wan's imagination than in tangible reality.

He could recall the first time his Master bade him inside, when he was fourteen years old deathly ill with Ithorian flu picked up after a particularly strenuous mission. The delirious of fever had plagued him for days, and after two nights of no sleep, and no instruction from the Healing Halls aside from "fluids and rest", Qui-Gon had grown fed up. Upon consulting Tahl, who had always been holistic in her own way, Qui-Gon had spent a few hours with his nose in a flimsiplast and plucking herbs from their hydroponic herb garden.

"Come here, young one."

Obi-Wan, who had been peeking through the door, had entered slowly, an inexplicable mix of reluctance and curiosity overwhelming him.

The room had been shaped identical to his own, warm and small and not overly generous as to reflect the Order's views of a Jedi's need for posessions. A closet along the wall had been mostly empty, the hem of a dark robe peeking out through the edge of it. There had been a shelf of datapads of various sizes and ages, some even made of flimsi, the bindings and casings lined with title script instantly familiar as classic Jedi texts.

Qui-Gon had been sitting on his cot, a pair of spectacles he rarely used resting on the end of his nose, his journal in one hand and pestle and mortar in the other. "This balm should help with your fever; its base is Treeman's herb."

Obi-Wan had nodded groggily, the haze of fever making him barely conscious enough to stand. His Master had helped him out of his overshirt, spread the balm on his cough-stricken chest, covered it with a hot cloth, and laid him down to rest. He swore he recalled Qui-Gon sitting at the bedside quietly writing in his journal during his sleep, eyes occasionally falling on his still form. He had awoke a few hours later, a little cooler and back in his own room; a warm comfort, however, had lingered over him for a long while.

It was an imprint in his memory, distinct and clear, like a box of keepsakes where pictures Qui-Gon lived in his mind. This place, as comforting and safe as it was, was just as much so painful. He did not often return to consciously to keep this ache away.

Thus, now, presented with this physical memento, thrusting him unknowingly to this place, Obi-Wan was taken aback. That pain in him was sharp and instant, as if the notebook in his hand was covered in thorns, a poison running quickly to his heart and seizing it in sorrow.

Obi-Wan didn't realize, but minutes had passed. Anakin, however, was sensitive as he was, generous in wait. The slight guilt that transferred from the boy to his Master in the Force was overshadowed by the emotions flooding from Master to apprentice.

Obi-Wan looked to him the instant he sensed the boy reach for him in the Force, like a timid child grabbing the hem of his robe, and he shut off those feelings as quick as he could -

"It's okay." Anakin shook his head, unspoken meaning laced within the tone, the gesture to the bond welcoming Obi-Wan to relax.

Obi-Wan, though hesitant, did so.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Master." Anakin whispered the apology sincerely, but his tone lifted. "I found it and ... I felt like I should read it, like I had to read it. It felt almost like Master Qui-Gon was talking to me, y'know? Like he was telling me these things, through his words, and ... I don't know, the Force ... I felt it was speaking to me."

Obi-Wan realized the selfishness of his actions. In his keepsakes of Qui-Gon Jinn were a vast collection of memories, of sly exchanges and wise phrases, of proud pats on the back and and teasing jabs to his side and affectionate glances. But Anakin had so few of these moments. This journal was his way of learning more about his mentor, of connecting to the man that had just as much an impact on his life as he did on Obi-Wan's. Whether or not the old book was a conduit of the Living Force, as Anakin seemed to be implying it was, it was special to him.

This shared connection to Qui-Gon Jinn was an important aspect of their bond. Obi-Wan would have asked it to be no other way.

He placed the worn journal again in his Padawan's hands, and Obi-Wan nodded. "It speaks to me as well, in a similar way. Master Qui-Gon said Living Force works in ways we do not understand, but to trust in it is to place faith in something you should have no fear in abiding in."

Anakin looked down at the book, and back up, a question in his eyes, "Are ... you saying I can keep it?!"

The Master laughed, "I very well can't confiscate it from you now, can I?"

"Thanks Obi-Wan - I mean, Master, I'll make sure nothing happens to it!" The boy grinned, running back to tuck it away in his knapsack. "Last night I read in here that Master Qui-Gon liked Ataru much better than Shii-Cho anyways and spends a lot of the time comparing the forms! There was something really funny he put about Form One being for Younglings who can't learn the basics of blocking and I laughed so much I almost spilled tea on it, but don't worry, everything was fine - oh, but I broke the teacup, I forgot to tell you! I'll be sure to replace it, maybe I can get one from the cafeteria? But those ones aren't as nice and the hot water makes them break -"

"Padawan."

"Master Qui-Gon liked sapir tea, didn't he? He talked about that too, that and other healing herbs, and even put in a whole chapter about herbal healing and recipes for teas and balms and salves and stuff like that, but I skipped some of it cause I prefer caf over tea any day - "

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said firmer, seeing the boy had swung his pack onto his shoulders and was heading for the door, "We aren't finished your drills yet!"

"It's almost ten, Master, the Initiate Classes start soon!" Anakin called back, already halfway out the door; one quick glance to the chrono on the wall behind him confirmed it, and Obi-Wan huffed, following after him. Great. This is the second time this week he's managed to get out of this.

"You were spaced out for longer than you thought I guess!"

"Or could it be that you didn't have the heart to disturb me so you could pass the time and avoid drills?"

Obi-Wan shot him 'The Look', this time intentionally. Anakin forced back a smile.

Somewhere, Obi-Wan mused, he knew his Master was smiling too.