Warning: I am a terrible person.
Chapter 10 - What Buirs Are For
Jango was not at all surprised to discover it was on the shooting range that Jaster fully opened up and accepted Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan's aim and instincts were phenomenal, as was his dedication.
Though, he worried Jango endlessly. Even as Obi-Wan became ever more a part of their aliit, he seemed to drift further into himself.
He grew quieter and ever quieter, to the point where he was nearly as mute as Micah. Thankfully though, it was Micah and his little sisters who could draw smiles out of Obi-Wan.
Otherwise, the boy was so serious.
Or he was sarcastic, Jango didn't know such a young ad could be so serious with such a dry sense of humour.
Training his ad'ika was like training an actual soldier rather than a child. There was no challenge he would back down from, no restriction he wouldn't abide, no order he would question, and he allowed himself no margin of error.
Jango had never met a soul so practical yet so unforgiving missteps. Or perhaps he had never seen a perfectionist train. In combat, Obi'ika was like a fish in water, but in training, even the smallest hesitation between forms, he would practice it until there is no imperfection, until his feet are blistered and his knuckles bleeding.
Jango and Jaster trained hand to hand, but essentially, they were highly trained street fighters, but Obi'ika turned their brawling skills into indentivable katas from assassin guilds.
Jaster thought it was a weakness, his forms beautiful, but predictable. Jaster's fighting techniques had three fundamental elements; brutality, speed, and unpredictable by being chaotic.
Jango couldn't fault Obi-Wan for trying to find rhythm in the chaos. After all, Jango was the only one in their clan to master Jaster's technique. Yet, Jango still thought it was incredible that Obi'ika could reverse engineer the techniques to the original forms they were designed from. To the point where Jango had started studying diverse fighting forms throughout the galaxy on the holonet.
Jango was a bit chagrined to realize that Jaster's forms weren't entirely unique, and after about sixth months of research, he was downright horrified to learn that Jaster's fighting forms had developed from a hand to hand interpretation of a jetii lightsaber form.
Something they called Juyo, the seventh form. Jango vowed never to tell his buir that. The only consolation was that Juyo seemed to be a form the jetii Order in large part disagreed with because of its violence.
That his ad'ika was well on his way to learning a jetii form made Jango just a little bit nauseous.
Sure Jango haf mastered a version of it himself, but blade work and hand to hand were different.
Obi'ika on the other hand looked as if he would handle a sword just fine.
Agni and Maas noticed this too and gifted Obi'ika with an ever growing arsenal of knives and throwing blades.
Still, the jetii were warriors who could honestly compete with the Mandalorians. So, despite his distaste and reservations, Jango committed himself to learning all he could about the Juyo Form to better train his ad'ika who seemed to prefer structure to Jaster's instructions of 'Learn to punch faster.'
Juyo, Jango learned, was a series of complicated katas, short and aggressive combinations of kicks and lashes. With a jetii sword, there was a lot of unnecessary movement to distract and inspire fear in the oppenot, it was frankly exhausting just trying to track the motions of the holo images he found/stolen.
Jango much preferred Jaster's simplified vision of it, however, the complicity and needed energy of the Juyo were likely what Obi'ika needed.
His endurance was frankly freakish.
Indeed, the more structure he provided his ad'ika in training, the more Jango pushed him, the more the ad seemed to thrive. Thrive as a person and self-confident individual who saw worth in himself and his own skills.
Yet, the only time Obi'ika ever acted his age was when he had nightmares, which was also the only time Jango at all felt like a father rather than a military superior to the ad'ika. It was when Obi-Wan's calm facade was shattered by whatever hell lingered in the dark of his mind.
Slowly, they built a foundation of trust between them, and Jango thought that he could maybe give his ad'ika back his childhood. The training could be just a keystone of his education, not the thing essential to the clan's survival.
It was a hope that died when the civil war on Mandalore began in earnest.
It was sadly then that Jango learned how gifted his ad'ika was, not just in combat, but in the art of war.
None of them doubted after the first few months of battling for settlements and the claim over cities that Obi'ika had been Death Watch.
Obi-Wan simply understood the enemy too well, saw the layout of Mandalore's landscape with far too many keen insights, and was able to help them stay several steps ahead of the Watch.
Jaster sighed, pulling Jango from his thoughts as his buir remarked, "I find myself grateful Obi'ika is yours, we might have lost this war already if the Watch still had him."
Jango's lips thinned as he turned over reports, the Watch were like roaches, on the defensive, they were beginning to flee Mandalore to do harm across the Outer Rim. They had just yesterday had a report from Sinna on Nar Shaddaa that a Watch member had spurned a hutt in the guise of a True Mandalorian.
Mandalore currently occupied a precarious position. In the midst of yet another civil war, they made themselves vulnerable to off-worlder influence. Luckily, even the Watch was having difficulties encouraging such chaos. The war was progressing so fast that accurate reports seemed to prove invalid in the span of days, which wasn't enough time for most natives to act, much less off-worlders.
Except for the fact that his buir had yet to take the formal steps to position for the political titles that would give true momentum to their side.
"Buir, don't you think it's time-"
"The Kryze clan has already agreed to adopt the True Mandalorian Codex," Jaster said, proactively cutting off his proposition.
One he had —admittedly— made before.
Jango snorted, turning to give his buir disbelieving eyes, "And you believe them? Adonai is desperate to keep power, he would say anything, that doesn't mean we should trust him to uphold our beliefs."
"We've been over this Jan'ika, we can't afford a three sided war and we should not force a movement. Such things must be realized from the bottom up, not the top down. If Adonai will allow Supercommando Codex to be practiced then it can grow routes. We cannot change everything all at once. Mandalore must stabilize before we can enforce a new way of life."
Jango was tired of this argument, but he repeated his point anyway, "The practice of the Supercommando Codex is what will bring stabilization, Buir."
Jaster didn't look up as he made a few more adjustments on the holotable. "Your optimism is endearing, Jan'ika, however, this war won't be over for another few years. The Watch is going to take this fight off-world, and scatter us throughout the galaxy." His gaze caught and held Jango's, "You will learn to be less cavileer about our victory. Adonai Kryze is a politician, his girls are young, they are a vital symbol of life and hope for Mandalore. I am not like him-"
"Yes!" Jango cut in and continued in sign as spoke out of agitation. "That's exactly why it should be you on the throne."
Jaster sighed, "I would accuse you of being power hungry, for our lineage, but I know you better than that. You make me proud, yet I urge you to remember that I cannot lead a war if I'm juggling politics. If there is to be any representation, then debate, free speech, and patient discussion of laws and movements must be allowed to succeed. I have neither the patience nor the aptitude for that. Where I'm needed most is on the battlefield."
Jango looked away, disagreeing in silence lest they continue to chase each other round and round in this argument. Jaster's strength for diplomacy was above average for a Mandalorian, it was just his tolerance for bantha-shit that was low, but that Jango believed was a point in his favour. It was the empty talk of politicians that had pushed them back into war time and time again.
However, they had another campaign for the Capital tomorrow that needed their full attention.
As if his thoughts had summoned them, Agni, Maas, Micah, and Obi-Wan entered the conference room.
Obi'ika spared Jango a warm glance, before those perceptive grey eyes settled on the holotable. Jango stood, joining the others converging around the table. He placed a hand on Obi'ika's shoulder as Jaster launched into his plans.
Obi-Wan signed in easy translation for Micah, freeing Jaster to manipulate the holo table and point at the places he was speaking of.
When Jaster finished an hour or so later, he asked, "Does anyone have any questions?"
Jango wanted to usher everyone out so he could get the youngest among them to sleep, particularly Obi'ika who hardly seemed to sleep at all. He always on guard, always ready for a fight or an emergency.
Obi'ika cleared his throat, signing as he spoke, "Ba'buir, I have a few observations."
Which was Kenobi-Speak for, I think your plan is lacking, want a better one?
Jaster wasn't an idiot, he always heard his bu'ad out.
Having an ex-Death Watch member in their ranks, despite how young Obi'ika was, had proved invaluable.
Jaster motioned for Obi'ika to speak.
The odd thing about Obi'ika's speech was how formal he could speak. He spoke like one of the Kryzes.
"We only have one or two ways to win the fight this way. It's only efficient if nothing goes wrong."
Jaster raised a brow, his tone was clearly amused as he challenged Obi'ika to work the holotable, "If you think you can do better, ner bu'ad, you are welcome to share."
Micah sniggered as Obi'ika stepped up to the table and began to alter the scape with an ease that spoke of great familiarity.
Sometimes, Jango was grateful for the strategic advantages that his ad'ika provided, other times, Jango wanted to find Obi'ika's previous guardians and slowly choke the life out of their worthless bodies for putting a child through this kind of military rigar.
Not five minutes later, they were all gaping at the new battle plan on the holo table.
Jaster cursed under his breath.
Agni laughed, "Mand'alor you may be, Jas, but he's our alor'ika."
Our little chief.
Micah signed with a smile, 'He prefers General.'
Jango sighed, of course Obiwan did, but he said aloud while signing, "Verd'ika is will do, lest it go to his head." Or his already inflated sense of responsibility. "Mind explaining your master plan, ner ad'ika."
Obi'ika smiled up at him, happy about the open pride Jango was showing him.
That smile made Jango's heart ache as it was brought home to him again that Obi-Wan didn't know his worth, didn't realize how brilliant he was.
Obi-Wan began going over his plan, better articulated than Jaster's previous plan, and Jango couldn't help thinking that Micah was correct.
General was an apt description of their Obi'ika.
A Month or So Later
Obi-Wan dreamed.
He dreamed of General Grievous, of fighting him and finishing him off with a blaster of all things.
He dreamed of Cody giving his lightsaber.
In some ways, Cody was more a brother to him than Anakin. Not because Cody was so much more dear to him but because they were equals. Sure, Obi-Wan was the man's superior, but without Cody, Obi-Wan would have been dead a dozen times over and they both knew it.
With Anakin, things were always more complicated.
As the war drew to its end after three long years, i.e. lifetimes, Anakin seemed more distant than ever and Obi-Wan was growing tired of waiting for him to confide in him.
After this war was done he was going to take Cody, Rex, Ahsoka, and Appo out for dinner with Anakin and Padme.
Padme was pregnant for kriff's sake.
Anakin didn't think they all knew they were a couple?
Obi-Wan was drawn back to the present as the Force shared with him Cody's voice as he gave the order to shoot. Confusion stopped his heart, betrayal too far out of reach at the impossibility of it as he fell and fell.
He would not die here, not like this.
Cody had to know that, didn't he?
Didn't he?
Obi-Wan dreamed.
He dreamed of the Temple burning, of his people, his people's young, their children and babies, their dear hearted younglings that they had fought so hard to shield from this violence, to prepare them for the galaxy while also, even in an age where the Force was at its darkest, teach them that Light and love were possible. That they were loved and wanted for more than their ability to wage war, a lesson they had failed in teaching to their Padawans and young Knights.
There was nothing like a child's love for their guardians, and teaching them to extend that love beyond their people, to the galaxy they served was joy and the truest expression of compassion.
To love the Force was to love life.
A Knight's journey was more complicated, but their younglings?
They were cherished.
To see them still, lifeless, cut down by an internal power, brought his breath in short. His chest was so tight he could hardly breath at all.
He had to know.
He had to know.
He had felt Anakin fall, felt his anguish, felt the darkness obscure his light like a total eclipse of a sun.
But Obi-Wan couldn't believe that-
He watched.
He watched.
More cruel than the clones turning on the Jedi and the clones being felled by lightsabers.
This was wrong.
This was evil.
This was all wrong!
Hadn't Dooku told him in the beginning?
Hadn't Dooku told him the Sith were in the Senate?
They had only rece discovered that Sifo-Dyas had died before the contract for the clones, it had been Dooku himself behind both armies.
And Chancellor Palpatine, now Emperor, at the route of it all.
The Naboo Crisis.
Darth Maul.
Satine's death.
Mandalore's descent back into chaos and self destruction.
And Palpatine grooming Obi-Wan's Padawan against him, against the Order.
Tugging and pushing, leading him down a road that even with Anakin's history as slave and all his trauma's and shortcomings he would have never fallen for.
Anakin was too strong for it.
But not if Palpatine had his claws in him from the beginning of his move to the Temple, on the eve of Qui-Gon's death.
Palpatine had turned Anakin's compassion into obsession. His love for Padme and the Republic into possession.
The drive for power to maintain ownership.
Fear, anger, hate… his life, this war… had pushed Anakin over an edge that Obi-Wan had gone about all wrong and had been unable to catch him.
When Yoda told him it was his responsibility to end him, Obi-Wan nearly fell to his knees and begged.
Anakin was his brother, his little brother who he had failed completely- he couldn't do it.
But Yoda didn't give him that choice, and with the younglings' bodies still cooling on the grounds of the Temple, the Temple Guard gunned down by the 501st… they had already lost.
Palpatine had already won.
Obi-Wan dreamed of lava, dreamed of his blade clashing with Anakin's, Padme's body collapsed on the ground like one of the younglings —though her chest still rose, the heart beats of their children fluttering like caught birds.
Obi-Wan wasn't certain they were twins, but he was certain of the cruel irony of it all.
Two beautiful spirits whose birth teetered on a razor's edge at the death of the Republic, the end of the Jedi, and all that they had fought, died, and killed for.
"I hate you!" Anakin roared as Obi-Wan let him burn.
As his own heart burned away with him.
It was a shell of the man he had been who picked Padme up in his arms, taking her to safety, to a life of sorrow and hiding.
"-Obi'ika, wake up!"
Obi-Wan jolted, his eyes flashing open, the smell of burning flesh still choking his senses as he stared up at a Mandalorian.
As Cody loomed impossibly large beside his cot.
Obi-Wan shrank away from him but didn't try to fight.
He had to kill Anakin, there was no choice. He could leave him to die, to burn because it is what he deserved.
What they both deserved.
Two victims of the Sith, both too arrogant and foolish to realize they were being had.
But Cody?
Cody had earned the right to kill him.
But it wasn't the barrel of a blaster that touched his forehead but a cool hand against his fevered skin.
Cody shushed him, his words coming in a steady flow of fluent un-accented Mandalorian.
Obi-Wan stiffed, confused as he tried to breathe.
It took Obi-Wan a moment longer than it should have to translate the words, "Shhhh… Obi'ika, you're safe. You're safe. I'm here. I won't let anyone hurt you. I swear it. Ner Ad'ika, you are safe."
Obi-Wan froze, why the kriff was Cody calling him his son?
Then he remembered.
Remembered where he was, who the man at his side was.
Remembered what the Force had done to him.
Obi-Wan scrambled out of bed, shaking as the cold of the Salvation I traveling in hyperspace hit his sweaty skin.
He stumbled on his way to the refresher, but his rage kept him going as he pushed away Jango's attempts to steady him and locked himself in —locking the Mandalorian out. He stepped into the shower and turned the water without removing his clothes, siding down to the floor as he tried to process the Force vision he had been given.
Not given.
No, give was the wrong word.
Force upon him was accurate.
Processing was difficult at his age. His emotions turbulent, his psyche ragged as he settled uneasily between multiple realities.
Why had the Force shown him that?
Why now?
Why not when he could do something about it?
His mind railed about what he had learned about Anakin, the clones, and the war.
He hadn't believed that the war could be any more horrific than it already was, as it turned out, he had been quite mistaken indeed.
Mistaken about so very much.
He buried his face against his knees and fought himself not to cry.
Fought himself not to hate the Force he had been raised to love.
He failed at both.
The Force was torturing him, punishing him, and though he deserved it, he hated it. The Force could have revealed Palpatine to him before now when the information was moot. It would have been useful before Qui-Gon had been killed and Anakin seduced.
Having this knowledge now, when he was a child and literally no match against a Sith Lord?
Pointless.
Hopeless.
And he hated the Force for making him feel this pain. For months he had been trying to shield himself from it, to ignore it, to hone his physical senses above his metaphysical ones. But the Force demanded he hear it.
Demanded the right to destroy him utterly, to rip out his heart and crush it.
The Force was supposed to be good, but this…
It was an unwanted reminder that the Force served the Sith too.
Had Obi-Wan been in his right mind, had he not been drowning in emotions as he tried to cut the Force from his very being, as he flailed against its hold, he might have listened to the stray thoughts that crossed his scattered mind.
The stray thoughts that said the Sith had been shrouding the Jedi's thoughts or powers of foresight for decades save for the unlucky few —such as Sifo-Dyas. He might have reflected on how being removed so far from the Order and shielding himself against all Force sensitives, Obi-Wan had allowed himself a window of clarity that escaped others.
Unchecked by the Sith, the Force could speak to Obi-Wan directly however it saw fit.
But such introspection and objectivity was impossible.
As a Jedi Master and High General, Obi-Wan could have accepted these reasonings with humility.
As a boy cut off from his mentors, in the midst of a spiritual crisis as he was shown that his future would lead directly to the destruction and ruin of everything he loved, of the realization that the fate of the entire galaxy at the hands of those he had both loved and had failed?
No, that he could not handle.
Fear of the future leads to anger and anger leads to hate.
And Obi-Wan lost in fear, grief, and anger, he learned —crying silently into his knees as the water that rained down on him turned cold— to hate the Force.
He learned something else as embraced his hate as he simultaneously pushed away the Force.
Yoda was wrong, hate did not necessarily lead to the Dark Side.
After all there was no Dark Side if there was no Force.
Still, Obi-Wan knew he would suffer for his hate. He knew it and didn't care, because hate would keep him going.
Hate would let him stand up and fight.
Revenge wasn't the Jedi way.
But it sure as kriff was the Way of the Mandalorians.
He couldn't undo his own sorrow, but he could blow Palpatine into oblivion.
Sure, he might never be the man's equal in fight, but bombs didn't need skill, they needed timing.
He wasn't sure how he would trick Jango into taking a bounty on Palpatine.
'Hey, Buir, can we please assassinate the Naboo Senator on pro bono work for the greater good of the galaxy?'
Then again, Jango had once upon a time taken a bounty for attempting to assassinate a Nubian Senator before.
Another one of the Chancellor's targeted manipulations of Anakin.
One thing allowed Obi-Wan the strength to get to his feet as memories he had so feared forgetting.
Forgetting felt like it would be a mercy at this point.
However, the thought was of all the ridiculous bullshit that had been happening to him since the start of his apprenticeship with Qui-Gon and then Anakin.
Obi-Wan had always had a sense that the galaxy wanted him dead.
Perhaps, Palpatine specifically had wanted Qui-Gon and him dead.
After all, had Qui-Gon lived, Obi-Wan was certain that Anakin's path would have been different. Just as it seemed likely that Anakin may have fallen sooner, perhaps even pushed out of the Order entirely if Obi-Wan had been killed before his Knighting.
Obi-Wan bared his teeth as he shut off the shower, feeling feral as he thought viciously, He failed to kill me, even at the ruin of everything, I survived.
Obi-Wan vowed that Palpatine wouldn't be half so 'lucky' now that Obi-Wan knew him for what he was, the parasite he had always secretly suspected Palpatine was.
Obi-Wan had been a Jedi Master once and failed.
Kark the Force and kark the Sith.
He had spent so much of the last few months trying to hide himself and his Force sensitivity from the others. It wouldn't be so hard now that his anger was fueling his shields.
The fun thing about Mandalorians was they had been enemies of both the Jedi and the Sith.
To succeed against the Order's self-destruction, to thwart the Sith, it was going to take Mandalore united, crippled by neither civil war nor pafistism.
With all that remained to him, with all that he would become, Obi-Wan vowed he would see his clan bring the Mandalore System together against all outsiders.
This was the Way.
00000000000000000000000000000000000000000
When Jango heard the shower turn off, he backed off. Allowing his ad'ika space to dress in privacy.
Jango's heart ached. Obi'ika hadn't cried out in his sleep, but he had kicked off all his blankets. When Jango had risen to check the ship and that they were still safely on course, he noticed the state of his ad.
At first, Jango had thought he was sick, but when he couldn't wake him, he knew it was nightmares that had claimed him.
Jango worried greatly about Obi'ika's nightmares, but as most of the ade in their clan were foundlings, he had been assured it was normal. Even Jaster had said that Jango had had night terrors at Obi'ika's age.
It came with the never ending fun package of being orphaned by violence and terrorist raids.
When Obi'ika came into the kitchen, going straight to the kettle for a cup of tea.
"The water is already hot," Jango offered.
Obi'ika nodded his head in thanks but didn't speak. He returned to the table with his favoured blue mug smelling of bitter leaves.
His eyes stayed downcast on the steam rising from his tea until Jango spoke again, "Obi'ika?"
Obi-Wan's gaze rose relecuntantly, red rimmed and his irises dark that it was startling. So dark that the grey was nearly black. Whatever nightmare had stalked Obi-Wan had lit a fire of vengeance in his heart.
Jango reached across the space between them to lay a gentle hand on his ad's shoulder.
Obi'ika just looked at him, quiet and waiting, a contained storm of fury.
Jango almost pitied whoever Obi'ika was thinking of as he asked, "Would you like to train?"
Obi'ika nodded as Jango led him into a spar in the tight confines of the ship. He didn't ask what nightmares he had seen, either Obi-Wan would tell him or he wouldn't.
But Jango didn't need to know to help him drag out his demons and beat the ever-lasting kriff out of them.
It was, after all, what Buir's were for.
AN: Thoughts, musings, koala-sheep, or feedback, pretty please?