"Malak, could you please stop being such a baby. Father did it, Grandfather did it and I'm sure that Great-Grandfather did it. It's your turn." Revan turned towards her little brother. In all actuality, Malak might be her younger brother but he was no longer her little brother. Instead, Malak had gained height and muscle while Revan performed her Jedi Knight duties and he finished his trials. Her baby brother now towered over her by almost two feet and had at least a fifty pound advantage, all in muscle.

Now that Malak had achieved the rank of Jedi Knight, it was time for his coming of age. Normally, the men of their family and culture would take Malak for this important event. However, their family was on a far distant planet far from their own culture. It was left to Revan to guide Malak into a male adulthood.

Revan didn't mind fulfilling the masculine role. After all, there were times that those who knew Revan swore she was a man, in her demeanor and her habits. She didn't mince words, didn't shy away from a fight and was more than willing to confront an issue head-on. When there was mischief afoot in the Temple, even now that she was a Jedi Knight and away from it for weeks and months at a time, the Masters still looked to see if she was involved.

The coming of age started with the continuation of the tattoos that marked their sect of society. Malak, when he was born, had been graced with twin dots around his "third eye". As he achieved higher and higher ranks, those dots had expanded to include the twin lines that now raced across his forehead. With the achievement of his most recent rank, Malak's lines would now expand across his head to the back of his neck. As he gained further recognition and honor, those marks would eventually reach down to the small of his back. Very few in their culture ever reached that far.

However, Malak was not excited to be honored with these lines. The pain was excruciating, especially done in the traditional ways. Malak was forbidden, by honor, to use the Force to alleviate his pain as he was permanently marked. Although he was loath to admit it, Revan knew that he feared passing out from the pain and dishonoring both himself and his family.

"Revan, this is an archaic honor code. There is no law saying we have to continue its existence." Malak hated the slight whine in his voice; he'd wanted a superior tone so that he could finally win in a battle of words with Revan. He should have known better, no one bested Revan in logic or verbal combat.

"You will look like a child in the eyes of our parents for the rest of your life if you don't at least finish the adult tattoo. There's no reason that you need to have the tattoos that declare your manly escapades." Revan winked and laughed at her choice of words. "However, you do need to finish this. Come on, they're waiting for us." Revan tugged on Malak's hand but it was to no avail. Her brother didn't budge.

"We're Jedi, now. We don't need these small tribal markings to proclaim ourselves. Mother and Father need to evolve into the Republic. We're not on some planet not even acknowledged by the Republic anymore. We're citizens of the Republic, guardians of peace for the galaxy. I don't need to declare the fact that I'm an adult, my Jedi robes do that for me."

"Do you want to sit at the child table when we go home for a visit? Do you want Father to greet you as a child? What about Uncle? Face it, brother mine, the culture is not going to evolve. Our parents are not going to evolve. You owe them this, Malak. Conquer your fear and let's get this over with." Malak wasn't swayed by Revan's logic.

"I am not afraid."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"You've made my point, Malak. You're arguing like we're still children. I've had my coming of age; it's your turn now. Be a man and face it. I can just hear the rumors now, I'm more of a man than you." Revan gave another tug on Malak's hand as she tried to maneuver him into the shop.

"No one will know if you don't tell them, Revan."

"Who says I have to keep my mouth shut?" In a singsong voice, Revan started chanting, "Malak's a baby. Malak's a baby." To shut her up and because he did recognize the fact that he was allowing his fear to rule him, Malak went into the tattoo shop.

"Hey, Nien! Malak's finally decided to finish his markings." Malak shot a glare at his sister as she conversed about him to the Sullustan behind the counter.

"I am honored you have returned, Jedi Malak! It is a great honor to have my work portrayed so well in the galaxy. You do me honor!" Nien chattered in his native language. "Come, come, we will get started right away. Most people have these painted on or lasered. I am honored you allow me the honor to do this in the ancient method."

The Sullustan gathered the tattooing tools, or in Malak's mind, the implements of torture. Although their cultural tradition called for no aids in alleviating the pain while tattooing, Malak soothed himself with the Force before the process started. He could feel Revan sending calming thoughts towards him.

Malak stripped his robes off and the undershirt, leaving him in just his pants. He chuckled when Revan let out a catcall and a whistle. She could always calm him with her irreverent sense of humor. Not only was he calmer, he wasn't concentrating on the pain to come.

The first tapping of the tattoo needle drilled itself into his scalp. He could feel the thousands of pinpricks as Nien started detailing the straight lines away from his forehead. They'd barely started and Malak was ready to pass out from the pain. The needle felt like it was continuously jabbing into bone as the dark lines slowly progressed.

As the tattooing progressed, Malak knew he was supposed to be contemplating what it meant to finally be a man. The first thought that popped into his head was an almost sacrilegious thought. He was going to miss his hair. Before his trials, he'd even grown it out some. He'd loved how he looked with the small ponytail at the back of his neck.

Now, due to the culture that he was born into, he was stuck being bald for the rest of his existence. His tattoos were the only adornment he was allowed. He was not allowed any hair, any jewelry or piercings that did not show his rank in his culture.

As he was contemplating the loss of his hair, Malak forgot about the sting of the needle. He didn't hear Nien chattering at him. He'd unconsciously entered a deep meditation. He could feel his consciousness floating as he saw the vision of his future.

Revan swept into the large deck of the battle station he was standing in. Her twin lightsabers, flaring a bright cyan, challenged him. Arrogantly believing that size equated strength, Malak beckoned his sister forward.

The two exchanged words and then there was the clash of blades. Malak felt his blade make contact with first Revan's hip and then her thigh. She limped as she used her Force-speed power to get away from him. He taunted her as she ran. While she paused, he refueled himself. Revan had no such power.

As she panted for breath, he ran to the upper deck. He showed her the truth of what they both had become. He laughed as horror spread across her face. They exchanged more words as they fought. Malak could sense Revan's weakening. As he stood on the upper deck, Revan ran to the lower deck. He watched her and taunted her as emotions raced across her face. She was weakening even further.

Malak sensed his opportunity and pushed his advantage. Revan was pleading with him but the words didn't reach him. Lightsabers flared and the crackle of the interactions filled the deck. With a deft twist of a wrist, Malak swept away one of Revan's blades.

She was now faced with fighting him with only one remaining lightsaber. The advantage was completely Malak's as Revan very rarely fought with only one blade. She was off-balance, tired, hurt and weak. Her Force powers were drained.

Finally, he crowed to himself, finally I have her where I've wanted her all these years! The circle is now complete, I am the Master. Malak swung his lightsaber once more and smiled as the blade sliced through his sister.

With a start, Malak realized that Nien was no longer impaling him with the needles. Instead, both Nien and Revan were regarding him strangely. Briefly, Malak wondered how long he'd been lost in the vision of his murder of his sister.

"Malak, are you ok? You look like you've seen a ghost." Revan's voice was concerned. "What vision did you have? Will you be a great Jedi Knight or what?"

"Vision? What vision?" Malak tried to play off his stupor.

"Malak, you were supposed to have a vision. I had one. Now, I want to know yours. Come on, share, already!" Revan's voice was losing its care and compassion and was starting to sound impatient.

"It was nothing. I know it will never happen. I won't let it." With that, Malak put on his shirt and robes and the two left the tattoo shop, arm in arm.