"So." Anakin finally broke the silence after nearly five minutes, one last bite into his 3rd fish before tossing the stick away.
"Hm?" The glint in her eyes spoke of more questions to him than answers from her, but he had a great one for the stealthy girl.
"It's pretty late already..." She just shook her head, hoping he would elaborate. "Aren't your parents worried about you?"
The wide-eyed look and sudden body freeze spoke volumes, and in that matter of 'volumes', what little he knew of Ruby Rose told him that plugging his ears was the ideal course of action for the symptoms appearing on her face; boiling desperation, sudden realization, fish stick falling dramatically from her hands, and the total loss of skin color... More than regular. The girl was pale as a kaminoan now that he had time to observe her properly during the quick meal.
However, what in this world is 'regular' anyway?
"Dust, dust, by the dust, I'm going to die! Daddy's going to do the haymaker and Yang the uppercut, and Zwei gonna throw the towel! I'm so screwed!" She screamed at the top of her lung as she awkwardly got up off the ground with all the intends of running for her life, only to do a complete 180°, ice covering her feet in accordance with the terrifying feeling that surged through her in the Force. Staring at Anakin, she was a bop in the nose of crying. "But... what about you?"
He raised one of his eyebrows at that, a visual note that Ruby caught and, clutching her red cloak in some apprehension, further explained.
"Are we going to see each other again?"
Oh, that.
Smiling as minimally as possible, Anakin stood up with the elegance of a warrior trained for over a decade and walked to the girl, halting in front of her, the nearly fifty centimeter difference causing a neck-bent to face him in the eyes, silver eyes following Anakin's as he lowered himself on one knee and stared at her almost directly.
"You know that strange feeling that brought you here?" Her brow creased in confusion, but she nodded. "Follow it once again next time, and if it's what I think it is, then we'll surely meet again, Ruby."
The silence and the high dose of skepticism in her gaze were the same as his the first time Obi-wan had grumbled those 'words of wisdom' to the 9-year-old him.
"But—" She hesitated for a moment.
"Say, youngling, I'm here and listening, it's not an honor that many where I come from have, so be mindful."
She blinked twice and then laughed, a sound of healing, formulating her question as her smile fell to one more tenacious.
"Who are you really?"
Oh... that was a good question, indeed. Who was he, in this strange world that didn't adhere to his customs and craft, where Sithspawns run wild within a 30 minutes walk away from populated cities and children carry 7-foot tall scythe-blasters? It wasn't a question he had much time to ponder, much less to understand the depth behind it like Obi-wan always instructed him to do often. From a galaxy where he was a proud Jedi Knight, General of the Grand Army of the Republic and leader of the 501st, the clone battalion with the lowest KWIA list and the highest mission success rates... to a homeless man with no idea what he's doing.
Ruby watched him with curiosity and a hint of fear, the silence making her create her own answers. Stopping this insidious process with a clearing of his throat, Anakin decided to give the answer he was most proud of.
"A free man who likes to help people."
"Ooooh..." That fear was overshadowed by the intense glow of admiration, nearly making Anaki himself smile. "So cool! Yang and daddy will love to know about you! Here, if you ever want to visit us, this is our address." She rummaged through her pockets and brought out what he imagined to be a pen and, pulling his meaty hand over, wrote a few words and numbers, the blond drawing his hand back to ascertain the veracity of the writing when she finished it moments later. It took a little of his scarce reservoir of patience as not to punch himself for, essentially, forgetting his illiteracy of these peoples' language.
"I will... remember that, Ruby."
"You promise?"
Children… How can one not love them?
"Yes, I do promise."
"It's a promise now! Break it and life will break your legs!... But please actually do it, pretty please, I really want to see how that dust sword of yours works!" Dust... sounds like something he has to remember around here.
"The name is lightsaber."
"... But the blade is not curved and it doesn't even have a hilt guard and-"
"Right, right, stealthy one, you're a smartass, but I've heard those same arguments a thousand times, so I'm experienced at ignoring 'em." He tugged down her hood, a groan of irritation amusing him. Getting up from his crouched position and watching Ruby pull her hood back with a visible pout, Anakin was already going to offer to escort her back to town, but her bizarre scythe should keep her safe from the bloody beasts out there... Further, he doesn't want to be seen as the guy who left the forest with a little girl in the middle of the night, so he comforted himself with a simple; "May the Force be with you."
"Huh?"
"It's a catchphrase back at home; good luck, goodbye, be safe and sound."
"Oh... May the Force be with you too~!" She shouted and gave him a thumbs-up, a wide smile bringing the Sun hours before dawn.
Anakin followed her with her eyes as she turned and waved for a little too long, shouting things like "see you later!", "see ya!", "don't forget ya promise!", swinging her arms in a quite eccentric way. It lasted until she finally walked past some bushes and disappeared into the night, the silence suddenly spreading like a thick tarp.
There was something strange with him as he sat by the fire, his back against the tree.
... Because there isn't a way for him to know if there are clankers watching him, it never did. But now that he was aware of the existence of grimms, he could sense them from hundreds of meters before an attack.
Before there were clones for him to order to go there or here, to do things, or a report to bestow on the Council.
Before there was war; politics; a leash on his neck.
Now there is just this destroyed, gigantic moon beyond the sky.
There is no responsibility anymore. He really is a free man, now that death has perhaps taken him.
Why did this make him so uncomfortable, then? To be finally free of war and that crushing duty, free of a burden weighted in losses?
Like a lost and grief-stricken child on Tatooine, Anakin locked his eyes on the night sky, searching for some clue, some answer, some escape from this sudden and consuming feeling that gripped and is slowly twisting his heart. Putting his hands together and trying to relax, not even noticing that his lightsaber was firmly between his fingers, just waiting for the first sign of danger, Anakin closed his eyes, an automatic healing trance initiating as he delves into the Force, looking for soothing.
... Maybe a bakery?
He wouldn't need much reading, he could open a small stall in the town square like he saw so many others do and, if he learned anything from Padmé, it surely is how to make a multitude of sweets and pastries. Ruby would probably love the five-leaf Naboonian sweetbread.
Or, perhaps, a workshop?
The droids and speeders here are primitive, period. But he could work around them and, besides, it was always a natural part of him to learn from the worst life has to offer.
Who knows... He could also try—
The next time Anakin opened his eyes was because a bird was pecking at his hair. The sun raked strongly onto his eyes and thus forced his mechanical arm to hover over his face, at the same time as a strong urge to stretch from his completely rigid state arose... The bird, however, hadn't left yet his hair.
"Stop it, you little devil," Anakin muttered as he brought his hand up to the annoying little thing, a hint of the Force preventing it from flying away, small claws gripping to his pointer finger two seconds later.
The little one was all gray, slivers of white and black running down the tips of its wings and a fuzzy, white belly with vivid yellow markings, the same coloring in the feathers below its thin beak, beginning of the tail, and under its wings. The most notable feature, however, was the judging, expressive coal eyes.
Anakin blinked with a certain glee when the image of a man of similar colors and same eyes appeared in his head.
"I died, Obi-wan, I don't need you judging me with those looks anymore." He joked, the bird turning his head a few times and poking at the underside of his wings. With a sigh, Anakin looked around and swallowed the bad aftertaste from his mouth, "But I guess you're right... Standing still has never been my cup of tea."
With a swing of his hand, Obi-wan Jr. flew off and settled on a branch of the tree where the Jedi had slept on. On his side, the blond was about to take a long chug of cool water but stopped when he saw the dialect accompanied by numbers scribbled on his hand.
Well... he promised, but he doesn't know how to read yet, so little Ruby's inscriptions would eventually fade away.
Grabbing the vibroknife from his belt, Anakin walked back to the tree and used the best of his ability to transcribe Ruby's magical language onto the bark for future use. Funny how he was calling everyone here primitive, but he was the crazy man in the middle of a forest taking notes on trees, talking to birds, and drinking water from the river.
Speaking of which.
Quenching his thirst with several chugs, Anakin undressed for a quick wash of the rancid mixture of sweat, soot and grimm blood that had dried on him, making sure his wounds have healed properly during his healing trance and, not surprising, understanding yet another reason people were giving him looks yesterday; his clothes were in tatters. The shoulder and neck armor was completely torn off, the navy blue Jedi cloak gone, and what was left of his red reinforced synthetic leather shirt was what a beggar would use to blow their nose. His pants were in good condition, as were his socks and underpants, but his boots had the soles peeling off and were slightly burned. By Force, it looked as if he had crawled out of a grave!
... His disgusted face was replaced by this little mental pun. He'd sure make lots of these jokes and would only stop when he falls dead... again.
Ha!
"Obi-wan would kill me if he could see me dressed like this; 'A Jedi must always cherish what he wears, for the clothes make the man'." Obi-wan Jr. squeaked angrily at his poor imitation.
Satiated, dressed as decently as possible and with one of the red fruits in his left hand, Anakin set off to Patch.
Wait... he got one good!
"Obi-wan Jr, I promise you, this day will be..." he held up the red fruit toward the gray bird. "...fruitful." The bird looked at him dead in the eyes, and Anakin laughed good-naturedly. That really was his master in there in the little bird!
[General Kenobi]
He had no money; no identity of any kind that Remnant's people use; no place to call home; no friends to reference, let alone knowledge of how this place worked sociopolitically. But no slave on Tatooine could survive without knowing his way around the least shiny part of a city.
Patch's docks were an almost contrasting sight to the rest of the plain districts. Dozens of various people arrived by boat all the time, yes, but in said contrast, hundreds of tons of cargo were transported from there to here. It made sense, if his mental map so far of the world locations indicated anything; with Atlas to the north and Vale to the east, export ships must stop here to deliver, exchange or load cargo, refuel or even anchor and wait for new information from the people on top, the same applying in most intergalactic exchanges.
Coming from this, the docks were extremely crowded and the famous velvet hands snuck around every corner, three times he'd already slapped the hand of some do-no-good trying to grab his lightsaber or scrambling his pockets. Ignoring those trying to make easy and dirty money, Anakin focused on the other end of the spectrum when it comes to docks; labor. Cheap and easy to get labor, paid on the spot depending on how much they unload, the need for schooling or documentation reserved only for novice foremen who had no idea what they were doing.
Also, these are places where you hear a lot and talk a lot with other people.
Money without questions asked, information, and possible contacts.
"No slave survives on Tatooine without knowing the streets." He muttered to himself, eyes fastened on a gray-haired man with a cigar in his mouth, tired, cold eyes running through various papers in his hands, a huge bunch of keys stuck in his belt, and a not at all relaxed posture of the sort one adopts after years of knowing the treacherous side of things.
The kind of person who would employ a poor schmuck who is going to die working for a few lousy coins.
"Things look busy." With a slight hint of the Force, Anakin managed to get the man's full attention as he stopped in front of him, the foreman having to twist his neck back a bit in order to get a glimpse of this stranger's blue eyes. The man breathed his cigar with an inaudible murmur, the papers now hidden from view.
"Sure thing." Another small suggestion from the Force... "This year things are blowing at full speed; the Vytal Festival is going on Mistral and with the crescent terrorist attacks and increase in Grimm population, everything is really energetic for dust companies." Dust companies, Vytal Festival; both pieces of information were stored in the back of his mind.
"You tell me. And there's never a shortage of work, I assume." Anakin crossed his arms, a universal gesture that Obi-wan pointed to be a way of saying without the use of words; 'let's negotiate'.
The man looked him up and down, mocking, perhaps, the lack of subtlety that the Jedi's phrase carried. Well, there's a reason he's not the Negotiator.
"Can you read?"
"Yes." A small little lie, but one that would be taken care of soon enough.
"How much can you carry around?"
"A couple of hundred boxes." He stared at the sizes of boxes inside the warehouse, ones bigger and isolated with rubber, others were small and greenish. He could probably move thousands with the Force, but discretion about his abilities was something he'd learned easily on the streets. A slaver doesn't need to know that the slave he's selling for 12 credits knows how to build republican warships.
The man clicked his tongue as if to ask something, but after a few seconds of silence where Anakin raised his best face of 'if I'm not accepted here, then I'll try the next one,' looking sideways just enough for him to notice it and don't find it odd and, of course, a minor hint of Force Urgency, the deal was sealed. Picking an aged metal bar from his back pocket, the man opened it and typed a few things into the touch screen.
"Name and age?"
His smile was internal. Externally, he nodded before saying close to monotone.
"Anakin Skywalker, 21."
"Skywalker, human, 21... You start at 6 a.m. until 6 p.m., half-hour lunch at 12. You get paid by pounds carried at the end of the shift. If someone helps you carry it, you don't get paid for that load. Got it?" All this time he continued to type on the primitive datapad, not even giving his new worker a second glance. No doubt, just as in his galaxy, disguised slave labor was here as well. This anger overflowing his blood, however, will be used in other more suitable places.
Still, they say that those who start at the bottom get the full picture when they reach the top. It was a depressing thought for a slave.
"All right."
"Welcome to Schnee Dust Company, now get to work. Go in and look for a tall, black man dressed in a gray jacket with the name Falks on it."
The blond's eyes did not miss the large snowflake imprinted on the wall of the warehouse with constant movement inside, especially the three words underneath the snowflake; Schnee Dust Corporation. His first known words in this new world.
Without another word to the foreman, Anakin entered the warehouse, sharp eyes jumping around with what the average bystander would think as nervousness. It was nothing of the sort. What was the easiest route to carry the crates off the ships, into the warehouse, and out on the trucks; who were the most important people, who were the newest in this whole system? Interestingly, he saw more man-beasts than humans in here, and as he estimated, the conditions were edging the bare minimum, in case the way he was hired didn't already say enough.
Firm nods for those whose looks he crossed, some reciprocating and others turning their gaze away, a way of cementing who was trustworthy and who wasn't. Those who work here come from simple backgrounds or had no other choice, so animosity would serve as good as a lightsaber against a starfighter.
It didn't take long for Anakin to find this Falks guy, tall being an understatement; the guy was as tall as that scythe of Ruby's and with muscles so beefy he could make an aluminum can out of a battle droid just with his bare hands. Not that he was intimidated.
"The foreman sent me to talk to you." A brief glance at the man's shirt as he turned to the blond man spoke enough of how the Jedi knew him.
"Skywalker, our new proud worker at Schnee Dust Company." Even though his burly body structure and hardened face, chin capable of pulverizing rocks, the man's soft voice and gentle smile as he extended his hand for a shake was surprising at least. He must have conveyed this, for the man let out a quick laugh and patted his shoulder. "I'll never get tired of rookies' reactions. I may sound threatening, but the real threat is the possibility of you getting hurt in here; they won't cover a lien and you'll most possibly be jobless before the sunset."
"I'm aware. It's not much different from where I come from." Anakin held out his hand, which the man grasped with a powerful grip that lacked any need to cause pain.
"One less face full of pain that I will have to watch depart from this place, hopefully. Anyway, follow me, there are eight hours of work ahead of us, lots of dust to be moved, and no lunch break on your first day. Again, welcome to Schnee Dust Company!"
Faced with this information, Anakin's excitement could be counted on the number of female clones serving in the Grand Army of the Republic.
... It was going to be a long day.
[You're a bold one]
Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot...
This was more than necessary at this point, for if Anakin did not make his movements carefully, he would kiss the ground without any scruples.
The streets became less and less busy the further he moved away from the docks, the number of stragglers trying to steal the hard-earned money from his pocket diminishing considerably. Since this is his first paid job in Remnant, he decided that he would have to work hard to make enough money to someday improve his lifestyle. There was no way to seek his purpose in this world that he has slowly accepted to be his afterlife if he didn't know how to read, didn't have the money to navigate freely, and didn't have the information to consume.
Therefore, the biggest and heaviest dust boxes were his goal during the eight hours moving back and forth. The Force was used constantly to strengthen his body, as well as quick and small suggestions in the brains of others for additional information sake, nothing much. To say that he was worn out was putting it mildly.
Still, the money was in his pocket. That was something since he was about to make his first purchase on Remnant.
With tired blue eyes, Anakin observed the place he had mentally marked earlier as he made his slow way to the docks; small, between two other little shops, one a utensil shop for... something. And the other a snack bar. The front was so, but so small, that it only made room for a door and a window. Yet, the person inside knew how to use the limited space efficiently. The door was a luxurious color of brown, almost the shade of Padmé's hair. The window, all decorated with white borders and a bed of well-watered and tended flowers, beyond the glass panels were stands full of those extremely primitive forms of documenting information: books.
A sign in front of the door said, as well as on the rug stuck on the floor, the name of the bookstore... But he couldn't read.
Anyways. The lights were on, so they must be open.
Entering the store to the sound of a little doorbell, Anakin sighed with supernatural relief as he set foot inside the store. The place was just gorgeous. He was about to enjoy the sight of the huge upwards shelves packed with hundreds of various books, but a female voice caught his attention first.
"Welcome to—ouch!" A thud and a few books falling on the floor and the girl standing up behind the counter, coughing slightly and fixing the round glasses on her face sure had his full attention. "...To Flourish and Blotts, how can I help you?" The girl finally batted her eyes at him, Anakin quickly moving his from the huge stinger-tipped tail behind her to her red eyes that should have been full of danger, if the slits were any indication. It was disconcerting to see the brown-haired, sting-tailed woman of about his age all stiff as she watched him with a visible blush.
"Good evening." He finally said something, approaching the counter and trying not to show his hesitation; faunus, he found out to be the name of the animal people, didn't seem to like that in humans.
"Ah! Y-yes, good evening, dear customer. How can I help you?"
This was going to be painfully horrible to admit, so much so that he even made a point of observing his surroundings; apart from a young girl in a corner with a black bow on her head, there was no one else in this bookstore. Given the hours and the convenience of other reading methods, it is hardly a surprise that there was little traffic. It served to soften the shame that seized him when the words came out of his mouth;
"Where are the entry-level reading textbooks?" Her stiffness seemed to fade, just as her eyes dilated in curiosity. "I... I can't read."
"Oh." That was all the girl with the ponytail and... sting-bug-tail said.
The silence ached in his bones.
"Well?" A hint of volume was added to his voice, the woman blushing and broadening her eyes as she realized the blatant contempt of her client.
"Pardon me! Uh, yes, session seven, in the back. There will be a sign that will point out exactly—" Anakin's incredulous look made the already white woman turn even paler. Telling there's a sign for him to follow was like telling a blind man to read something on a datapad "My dust-I-I'm so, so sorry. Follow me, and I'll take you there... Sorry, I didn't mean to..."
With her legs trembling and her hands on her face to hide the burning shame, her stinger straight and stiff in such embarrassment, she guided him through the tight shelves. Licking his lips and running one hand through his hair, Anakin followed her. Worthy of notice is the young lady with the hair-bow who had raised her eyes from the book to watch him, an intense, analytical gold, which he returned with a gaze full of the customary coolness he returned such glances, the strange exchange ended as quickly as it began. Probably nothing... Although.
No, it must be nothing.
For the next few minutes, the woman at least managed to keep cool and actually managed to get him some books that would serve, and fortunately, he found himself paying for the books in the span of a really quick and short paragraph. The three books he brought for half of his lien were; one audiobook "The Alphabet and You", the introduction to Remnant's common language, followed by two more simple reading books for children.
The next three weeks before he has to return them would be busy.
As soon as he left the counter and made his way out of the store, the black-haired girl leaned in to talk to the receptionist, waiting until the blond left. They were not to know that a good slave is always listening to their masters' conversations... Not that they are, he is just good at listening.
"I didn't know you liked beggars."
"My Dust, Blake! That's cruel!"
"I'm just pointing, no big deal."
"I know... But he was cute, even if he was all beat up."
"Especially because he was all beat up."
"It's not like that! It's just that—"
Girl talk, the ones Padmé would have with Sabé or one of her handmaidens, the kind he really doesn't intend to get involved in. The headaches he had to endure because his wife couldn't shut her damn mouth about such a senator's dress or what hairstyle was best for a sunny but perhaps rainy Sunday.
He would not deny, however, that there was a certain charm to the stinger faunus.
Huh, Padmé would kill him if she caught him thinking—
... His train of thought suffered an ugly crash when that phrase repeated itself in his head. He was already dead. He had left Padmé behind in the Republic, what she thinks now about him doesn't matter.
All that was left of her are these memories, each one with huge lapses of time between 'em because he was much busier with the war than spending time with his wife.
And now, without him there... she will create memories with someone else.
A giant surge of jealousy washed over him, building with each slow step only for it, when the hot anger reached its breaking point, to drain away like a toilet flushing. He could feel as much jealousy as he is now, but how much jealousy will change the fact that he is dead? Or, at least, died and is living another life in this strange place?
In this defeated frustration and unending sadness, however, he found some solace in the fact that his... former wife... would be happy on the other side. She would be sad for a long time and miss him a lot, maybe for the rest of eternity, but none of that would stop her from having children and raising them with all the love of the great mother he knows she has inside of her.
And maybe he should do the same?
He would never, ever forget that angel who recognized him not as a possession, a thing, but as a human being. He is sure that she would want him to be happy.
She loves him too much, having his destiny drowned in memories of a distant past would only sadden her. The resolution was replaced by a bittersweet taste of betrayal, as if the thought of having another partner in his life was betraying the memory of Padmé.
He always wanted a little girl of his and hers...
It was not something he could clear up on a walk back 'home', anyways, so he guarded these thoughts for another more proper time.
Arriving at the clearing with the river, the first thing Anakin did was to leave his book bag in front of the tree and pick up sticks and fiber from the ground, a flick of his hand being enough to light the fire so it illuminates what the broken moon could not.
As soon as he sat down, to his surprise, Obi-wan Jr. descended from the tree and sat comfortably in his messy hair.
"Had you a great day?" A soft squeak and he nodded. "I imagine you want to hear how my day went, right?"
A peep was all he needed in response.
"Well...where do I start?" Anakin closed his eyes to think about that self-imposed question. Obi-wan Jr., however, didn't chirp anymore when the blond's head hung to the side before he barely could form coherent words, the lightsaber unconsciously in the Jedi's grip already, the little bird settling into the comfortable nest and taking a nap too.
Endnotes: Hope you have liked it! Someone asked about Ruby's age; she is 11, so the rest of the team is 13, the White Fang terrorism is already in vigor. Anakin is 21, he died days before the Temple bombing. Obi-wan Jr. is a yellow-rumped warbler. Thank you for your reviews and appreciation, even if my writing is not the best! See you on the other side!