To Din's surprise, the leaders of the three groups within the camp put up little resistance to his requests for assistance, and by the time the N-1 lifted off from Mandalore the following evening, each was preparing for their assigned task. Koska Reeves would be leading most of the Nite Owls to survey the nearby planets and moons to determine if any were suitable for habitation or food production, while Axe and a select few with experience in technology and engineering would try to find a way to circumvent the planet's interference with their comms. His own Covert, led by Paz and Teren, agreed to help the survivors plan expansion of their underground gardens in exchange for aid in combing the ruins for any pieces of armor that could be reforged by the Armorer and rebuilding the forge.
As the starfighter cleared the atmosphere and his controls returned to their normal function, Din moved to punch in the coordinates for Sorgan, but his fingers stilled when his gaze fell on the nav chart for another sector on the far side of the neighboring quadrant. It had been years since he had a reason to travel even in the general vicinity of the tiny dot that glowed among a dozen others on the display- a single point that represented so much more than just another planet, another quarry on his long resume of hunts. Grogu quietly let out a chirp of confusion from his place on Din's lap, and Din rubbed a gloved finger over an oversized ear to reassure him. "It's alright, ad'ika; just thinking." They cruised slowly for several minutes, the cloud-covered shape of Mandalore growing ever-smaller behind them as he wrestled once again with a lifetime of memories that seemed to crowd all at once into his mind- all culminating to his unexpected reunion with Grogu on the dusty streets of Mos Espa. The middle of a shootout with crime syndicate thugs and scorpion droids was far from the ideal setting for such a momentous occasion, but in the moment Din didn't care: Grogu had chosen him, and they were once again a clan of two- this time for good.
"By creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind, you are as its father." The Armorer's words, declared in the sewers underneath Nevarro, echoed through his mind like they had in that cavernous room that held the forge. He had been 'as' Grogu's father during the months they spent searching for the Jetii; now that they were together again there was no more 'as'. And it was far past time he made it official.
Pushing aside his reservations and the haunting shadows of his past, he punched in a different set of coordinates. "Alright kid, hang on. We're going to take a little detour." Another squeak, this one full of curiosity, was his only response as Din finished prepping the starfighter and they made the jump to lightspeed.
The first leg of their journey would only take a few hours, but Grogu was asleep on Din's lap in almost no time at all, lulled by the hypnotizing vortex of color surrounding them and leaving his guardian with entirely too much time and silence to think. He was even more relieved than usual when the N-1's navigation squawked its alert that they were approaching their destination seconds before they snapped back to sub-light. Directly ahead of them lay a small, gray-green planet, its single moon a tiny speck in the far distance. Din swallowed his nerves and prepared the ship for reentry into the atmosphere, and within two hours they touched down on the outskirts of a weathered city built almost entirely out of light gray stone, the familiar domed roofs covered in mosaics of dull blue tiles igniting a firestorm of memories.
Aq Vetina.
A few curious heads turned in their direction as the canopy slid forward and the Mandalorian climbed out, removed a hover pod from the small storage hatch in the underside of the ship, and situated his companion inside. The two hesitated just outside the entrance to the city, Din's visor sweeping over every inch of the rebuilt town he had once called home. Scars from the Separatist attack decades before were still visible, though much of the destruction had been repaired and life had begun to flourish again. He hauled in a steadying breath then pushed it out again before forcing his feet forward and through the archway leading into the town. Grogu floated along silently beside him, glancing up at Din frequently with wide eyes and drooped ears, as if he could sense the turmoil roiling inside of the man and yet didn't know how to fix it.
The market, which had once sat just inside the city gates, was gone, replaced by rows of houses that looked much newer and cleaner than the rest of the town. The courthouse and magistrate's villa were still visible from any point, situated as they were at one end of town where the landscape sloped up slightly. Inquisitive eyes and quiet exclamations of surprise followed them as they wove through meandering streets which were simultaneously familiar and completely alien to him; no doubt he was the first Mandalorian any of them had seen, at least since the attack if not their entire lives. If only they knew…
The unmistakable chatter of the marketplace grew louder the closer they got to the center of the city- Galactic Basic mixed with a local dialect that was vaguely familiar to his ears but the meaning of the words had been buried in the recesses of his memory first by Mando'a, then Tusken, Huttese, and a half-dozen other languages he had picked up over the course of his career. They reached the square, and the sight of stalls bearing familiar crops of fruits and vegetables, shops selling wares of every kind, and the aroma of open-air food vendors hit Din square in the chest with an overwhelming feeling of homesickness and loss, knocking the breath from his lungs. Every foundling, himself included, understood and accepted the concept of cin vhetin when they entered the Tribe, as hard as it could be to leave behind a previous way of life for the Way of the Mandalore, but that didn't mean that memories would never be resurrected with the slightest provocation. And at that moment they were assaulting him with the ferocity of Gideon's Darktroopers.
It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to keep moving across the square at a controlled, steady pace, nodding to the few vendors brave enough to greet him out loud and keeping Grogu in his line of sight to ensure he stayed out of trouble while battling the thoughts swirling in his head. What would it have been like to grow up here, safe and loved in the embrace of two parents who lead simple lives without the constant threat of death hanging over them? Would he have had a riduur and children of his own by now? Where would he have lived, and what kind of job would he have kept? He dimly recalled that his birth father had been in some sort of academia; would he have followed in his steps or been drawn to a hands-on profession instead?
They reached the opposite side of the square and turned the corner onto a wide lane. Only a few steps down the street Din's boots stuttered to a halt, and Grogu chirruped in confusion. There, at the end of the street where it opened into a small courtyard, set close to the wall of a nondescript building, was a cellar, covered by rusted steel doors and partially hidden by overgrown grasses. It was impossible, but deep inside he knew that it was the cellar- the one his parents had hidden him in the day of the attack. The cellar where he had faced certain death for the first time and lived to tell the tale- while his parents had not been given such mercy.
The day his world was completely shattered- and then reformed within hours.
The edge of Grogu's pram bumped his thigh, and a second later a tiny hand curled around his index finger. He looked down, his chest heaving under his kute and armor from his struggle to catch a leveling breath, to see the kid staring up at him, his wide brown eyes damp with unshed tears. For him. Emotion clogged his throat at the little one's keen perception of his silent struggle and the answering attempt at comfort. Even if he believed in coincidences before finding Grogu, he certainly didn't now. Their stories were too similar to be anything but fate. Being hidden in a place of temporary safety. Facing down the deadly weapon of a murderous droid. Said droid falling to the ground with a blaster bolt through its head. A Mandalorian. An outstretched hand, promising salvation and protection. Finding a new home with strangers that quickly became family.
Aliit ori'shya tal'din.
His fingers caught Grogu's, and he gave the little hand a slight squeeze. "Thanks, ad'ika." His voice was scratchy and he cleared his throat before moving forward, past the cellar and continuing down the street until they reached the other side of the city and the wall that marked the boundary of the town. A second wall had been built just in front of the outer wall, this one only a few inches taller than Din himself and made of dark stone, stretching from where he stood all the way to the gate that opened out onto the moors beyond. Shapes were cut neatly into the wall's face, and upon closer inspection he could see that etched on the surface were names. Rows and rows of names marched down the length and height of the wall, with the names of other towns at the head of various columns. It seemed their city wasn't the only one targeted for destruction by the Separatists.
Lifting the child from his seat, Din tucked him into the crook of his arm and began to meander slowly along the length of the wall, his gloved fingertips tracking lightly over the rows of print as his eyes searched for a familiar last name. Djarin, Djarin… On and on he trekked, sorrow and disappointment mounting that he had somehow missed his parents' names as he neared the gate. He was about to give up when finally he discovered the name of a distant cousin, and right above it, his parents:
Cirian & Doria Djarin.
Together in memoriam, just as they always had been in life- and in death. Uncharacteristic tears blurred his vision as he hefted Grogu a bit higher and rested a finger against the line. "These were my parents." His throat was thick again, his voice coming out in a quiet rasp, but he continued on; he wanted his son to know where he had come from. "I used to live here, before the Mandalorians saved me and gave me a new home. They would have been your ba'buire." Even though the kid couldn't see it, his lips tipped into a sad smile. "I'm sure they would have spoiled you rotten." Grogu chirruped once, though the noise sounded suspiciously like a giggle.
"Ba?" He reached out toward the wall, and Din shifted so that the three-clawed hand rested beside his against the stone.
His smile widened a fraction at the kid's early attempt at the Mando'a he had been trying to teach him for months. "Yeah, you're getting there." He leaned forward slightly, gently pressed the crown of his buy'ce against the wall, and whispered, "Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc. Ni partayli, gar darasuum, Mother, Father. May my life be an honor to your sacrifice." Haat, ijah, haa'it, he added silently. He remained that way, beskar against stone that would have been cool to his bare skin, until the tears dried on his cheeks, then finally he pulled away, tucked Grogu back in his pram, and turned toward the arched gateway leading out of the city.
The noise of the city faded away as he stepped out onto the moors, the rolling green hills covered in the same silvery-green grass that he remembered from his youth when he would come out here with his friends to fly kites or play tag and scale the trees that bunched near the creekbeds. In the winter the whole area would be covered in inches of snow, and the boys from the city would meet children from the surrounding farms for snowball fights that never failed to turn into small-scale wars. Din himself was never the leader of his team, but he was almost always chosen first for his tactical thinking that usually meant victory for his side.
All this and more he relayed to Grogu in a low, ponderous voice as they trekked toward a tall hill about a klick away from the city. Din fell silent when they reached the base and began to climb, reaching the top a few moments later. It had seemed so much bigger when he was a child, but the view was still as broad and breath-taking as ever. More importantly, it was quiet and secluded, which was why it had always been his favorite retreat growing up when he wanted to get away from his friends' rowdiness. A large, flat stone still sat nestled amidst the grass- weathered down from what it once was but still clearing the vegetation by a few inches. He tenderly sat the kid down on the stone before folding himself onto the ground, sitting with his legs crossed and his back to the city. Grogu's dark eyes stared into his visor, his ears perked and head tilted slightly in curiosity. Din scooted closer and cleared his throat.
"You and I… we've been through a lot together the past few years. Most of it wasn't easy, but there were some good times in there too. I probably should have done this a long time ago, but I didn't want you to feel like you had to stay with me if we found a Jedi who was willing to train you. But now that we're together again…" He trailed off, realizing that he was rambling in his nervousness. He sucked in a breath. "Even though I can't replace the family you once had, I want to be your family, Grogu, to care for you and teach you like my buir did for me." His heart was racing but his hands were steady as he reached up, grasped the edge of his helmet, and slowly peeled it away from his head, setting it gently on the grass beside him. The breeze brushed against his cheeks and rifled his hair, bearing on it the familiar smells of his homeworld, but all his attention was on the small form in front of him. He still remembered what Grogu looked like the last time he removed the helm- how could he forget such a thing?- but washed in the hazy sunlight of Aq Vetina the green of his skin and dark brown of his eyes were even more vivid than in the artificial lighting of the light cruiser. He leaned closer and reached out, taking the child's clawed hand in his.
"Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad. I know your name as my child."
A long moment passed, both of them sitting silent and still, Grogu's dark eyes unwavering from Din's face, until finally the child pushed to his feet and scuttled forward to wrap his short arms as far as they could reach around the man's neck. Din held him close with both hands, the small body almost vibrating with the delighted purrs that reached his ear and drew a slight chuckle from him. He closed his eyes, savoring their first close embrace without the cold beskar shell between them since their farewell on the light cruiser. He had been acting on instinct then, desperate to let the kid know that on the other side of the visor there was in fact a man that cared for him, who loved him enough to let him go even if his own heart was crushed in the process. But now that they were officially buir and ad, he had the freedom to show Grogu his face when they were alone if he wished- an oft-forgotten exception to the strict mandates of their Creed, first made for married couples who were considered as one flesh anyway then later extended to their children.
He still remembered his first time seeing Eitan Moresh's face: on the occasion of his sixteenth birthday, when the elder Mandalorian had sat Din down for a "man-to-man" talk following a particularly hard day of combat training. He had struggled more than usual that particular day, drawing ridicule from a few of the other trainees which magnified the insecurities he fought so hard to keep hidden: feelings of inadequacy and failure, as if he was somehow failing to live up to the immesuarable gift his birth parents had given him when they sacrificed their lives for him. Though Din couldn't find the courage in himself to remove his own buy'ce, Eitan had been more than understanding and removed his anyway. Dark blond hair, sea-green eyes, and a light mustache greeted him- Din had to hold back a giggle at the sight of the unexpected vanity of facial hair- but there was something about the sight of another human face for the first time in so long that began to unwind the tight ball of tension and fear that had lodged in his chest for so long. The two talked late into the night, Din's love for his buir deepening exponentially as he listened quietly to the youth pour out his thoughts and anxieties then gently corrected his thinking without condescension or impatience. That night, once he was sure Eitan had fallen asleep, Din slipped off his helm and laid awake for a long time, watching his buir sleep and committing to memory the face of the man who had saved him- not through the visor of a Mandalorian's helmet, but through the eyes of an orphan who had lost his family but was gifted another to train and guide him. A family and a heritage that he wouldn't give up for anything.
"Ba?" He opened his eyes and looked down to see Grogu peering up at him in question a second before he squirmed in Din's arms, clearly ready to be let down.
He chuckled at the little one's impatience. "All right; I get the message." He returned the kid to his pram then leaned down and picked up his helmet, slipping it back on over his head. He immediately missed the feel and smell of the fresh air, but it was necessary for their return through the city to get to the N-1. Maybe once they were in the seclusion of hyperspace he could slip it off again for a little while. "Well, ad'ika, are you ready to get to Sorgan?" More toddler jibberish was his answer, so Din turned and started making his way down the hill, choosing at the last minute to forgo the walk back through town in favor of the slightly longer route around the outside wall.
This would be the last time he would set foot on his homeoworld, he decided. As much as he had loved his family and his life here, Aq Vetina was his past. It would always be a memory of aay'han for him, but Mandalore- his Tribe, Grogu- was his future, no matter what he decided about accepting the role of Mand'alor.
A short time later they reached his ship. The sun was beginning to set in a blaze of gold and orange as he stowed the pram and climbed into the cockpit. He took in one last lingering view of the sky before they lifted off: for some inexplicable reason he had always loved sunsets- even if watching them through a viewfinder wasn't the same as with his naked eye- and it was one of the few treats he looked forward to whenever he happened to be planetside.
The colors faded as the starfighter cleared the levels of atmosphere, and once the hazy, orange-ish clouds gave way to the dark of space, Din punched in the coordinates for Sorgan. "All right, kid, here we go." Grogu let out a chirp of excitement, once again perfectly comfortable in his place on Din's lap, as the space around them began to blur and the ship rocketed forward, leaving Aq Vetina behind them.