Chapter 32

Twelve hours later. Nabat City Republic Base.

Jaina blinked dazedly, barely sitting upright in the bustling Command Center, her mind hanging by a precarious thread through the debriefing session that was—hopefully—about to conclude as Master Windu and Cham Syndulla gave their final updates before their advance on the capital of Lessu.

The air was thick with tension and the low hum of conversations as various clone troopers and officers bustled about, reviewing battle plans and analyzing data from the recent engagements, and the final fortifications of Republic lines along the Jixuan Desert.

As the debrief concluded and the officers dispersed, Jaina rubbed at her temples, pressing against her skull in a vain attempt to alleviate the throbbing. No matter how hard she tried to refocus on the holographic maps, the glowing lines seemed to blur together.

Obi-Wan walked over and placed a gentle hand on his Padawan's shoulder. "Let's call it a day, my little one," he suggested quietly, his voice laced with concern. "We should find you something to eat."

Jaina glanced up at her Master, nodding gratefully, careful not to aggravate her headache further.

His lips curled into a gentle smirk, his hand squeezing her shoulder. "Come on. I know how you can get when you are both exhausted and hungry."

Jaina frowned, raising an eyebrow as she stood. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means, darling," Obi-Wan deadpanned. "When you are tired and hungry, you tend to become…shall we say, 'less diplomatic'. Slightly more snarky, slightly more difficult, and slightly more argumentative—you tend to debate the littlest things, usually with me."

The Jedi Master chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. "Which, while sometimes amusing, is also a bit more trouble than your Master wants to deal with tonight."

Jaina huffed indignantly, but was cut off when her stomach audibly growled. She groaned, her ears heating up. "Fine," she muttered. "Maybe I am a bit hungry."

Obi-Wan smirked once more, gesturing toward the exit and beginning to walk towards it. "Come along, then. It's the perfect time for our most important post-campaign tradition."

His grin widened as he turned his head back towards her. "And I overheard some of the civilians from the other day—there's a small place a few streets down with the best stew in the galaxy."

Jaina groaned, following along the bustling streets of Nabat. "You know, I'm still not sure how I feel about this tradition. You said that the odd leaf thing we had on Rugosa was going to be the best salad in the galaxy." She shuddered, her freckled nose wrinkling at the memory. "It was not."

Obi-Wan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he glanced down at his skeptical little Padawan. "Now, now, my little one, I will admit that that salad was…an acquired taste."

The Jedi Master paused, stroking his beard thoughtfully before adding with a smirk, "Besides, as Jedi, we are supposed to be respectful of all cultures, and maintain an open mind towards them. Where's your sense of culinary exploration?"

Jaina rolled her eyes dramatically, her lips twitching with the effort of suppressing a snort. "My sense of culinary exploration took a nosedive after that salad, Master. I think it's still recovering somewhere in hyperspace."

She winced once more. "Besides, you also said we'd enjoy that strange puréed fruit on Murkhana. Did we really, though?" She playfully bumped her shoulder against her Master's arm as they walked.

The bustling sounds of Nabat surrounded them—the chatter of civilians, the occasional rumble of a passing speeder, the distant hum of the generators from the garrison outpost.

Obi-Wan let out a hearty chuckle. "Ah yes, the infamous blutfruit."

The Jedi Master glanced down at his Padawan, a mix of fondness and amusement in his eyes as he nudged her back. "I happened to enjoy its unique…smell."

Jaina rolled her eyes playfully as they walked, then nudged him once more. "You know what I think, Master? I think you just get a kick out of making me try strange food."

"I assure you, my little Padawan, my intentions are purely educational." Obi-Wan shrugged innocently. "And who knows—your taste buds might actually agree with my assessment this time. Then you'll be in for something absolutely delightful."

The Jedi Master smiled. "But do not get your hopes up too high, my little one. I have found that with food…" He paused. "Expectations can often lead to disappointment."

Jaina raised an eyebrow, continuing to follow her Master down the street. "Was that a general statement about food? Or a life lesson disguised as a general statement about food—in your usual over-the-top cryptic way?"

"Why must the two be mutually exclusive?" Obi-Wan smirked, amused with his little one's wit, as always. "Besides, if I wanted to tell you something in my usual cryptic way, dear one, I would have made it far more unclear than that."

The Jedi Master slowed and stopped, as they came to the entrance of a small eatery nestled in between two much larger ochre buildings. "And now…here we are."

A humble little place, with a small sign that read: Nabat Stew Shack.

…and an even smaller sign below: NO REFUNDS.

Jaina's eyes widened as she read the small, bold letters on the sign, a mix of amusement and disbelief flickering across her face. She wrinkled her nose. "How…charming."

Obi-Wan chuckled, ushering her inside.

The small eatery was filled with the lively chatter of a few local patrons, their words blending into the sounds of the busy kitchen. The interior was simple yet cluttered, with wooden tables and mismatched benches and chairs scattered around a central counter, where a large cauldron bubbled away.

The Master-Padawan pair stepped up to the counter, where a slightly disheveled Twi'lek server raised her head to greet them. "Hello there, welcome to the Nabat Stew Shack! What can I get for you?"

Obi-Wan flashed the Twi'lek woman a smile. "Ah, yes, two bowls of your specialty, please."

The Twi'lek server's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Coming right up." She padded over to the cauldron, beginning to ladle generous portions of the stew into two chipped clay bowls.

Jaina winced, gazing around at the slightly dingy establishment before turning to look back at her Master. "You know, I think I'd be all right with our usual ration bars for dinner…"

Obi-Wan smirked as he followed her gaze around the interior of the establishment. "And why is that, my little one?"

He was not exactly surprised at her reaction—this was Jaina , after all. And as much as the Jedi Master adored his little Padawan for her wisdom, and her intelligence, he had learned to love her for her… paranoia as well.

Catching her Master's—most likely—unspoken train of thought, Jaina planted her hands on her hips. "Don't start. I am not paranoid."

"I never said you were," Obi-Wan replied lightly, though the playful quirk of his lips clearly implied he thought otherwise. "Merely… hyper vigilant."

"That's a synonym, Master."

The Jedi Master chuckled in response, his amusement clear. "There is a subtle but very important difference, darling. But I appreciate such…close scrutiny of my choice of words."

He feigned sternness, nudging her towards the counter. "However, we are getting dinner. And you will try at least one bite, and then we will go from there. Understood?"

He could barely suppress a grin, knowing full well what he was about to do to her.

Jaina groaned. "Are you seriously turning this into a direct order?!"

"Oh, yes." Another smirk. "Yes, I am."

The Jedi Master leaned in with a teasing, lighthearted whisper. "The moment you asked me to be your Master, you agreed to let the Jedi Code, and all of my silly orders, be your Law."

He nudged her gently once more. "So, yes…I am absolutely giving you a direct order, and one that you will follow."

A mix of resignation and annoyance flickered across the Padawan's freckled face, but she quickly composed herself. "Fine fine. I'll try it. But let it be known, I'm doing it under protest."

"…and necessity," she grumbled. "Because I'm still starving."

The Twi'lek server returned to the counter, bearing two bowls of steaming stew. "Here you are." She placed both bowls down on a tray in front of the Master and Padawan, her expression cheerful. "Two signature stews. Enjoy!"

"Thank you." Obi-Wan slid the credits over the counter, then picked up the tray with both their bowls, heading over to a nearby table.

His expression was as calm and impassive as usual, but the gleam in his eyes revealed his immense enjoyment.

"In the words of Master Yoda himself…" He cleared his throat. "'Do. Or do not. There is no try'."

Jaina snorted under her breath, following her Master towards the table. "I highly doubt Master Yoda was referring to stew with that, Master."

"Oh, I know he wasn't. I figured that I would take a few liberties there." Obi-Wan chuckled, his tone light.

The Jedi Master set the tray down on the table. "But perhaps it won't be as bad as you think. Or perhaps…" His smirk widened. "It will be worse than you think. Either are equally possible. So, why don't you have a seat." He held out the chair for her. "And try the stew."

Jaina narrowed her eyes, eventually lowering herself onto the rickety chair he held out—knowing full well that there was no escape.

"Are you really going to keep insisting that we try a local dish on every single planet we visit, Master?" She muttered, raising an eyebrow. "We could end up going to a lot of systems, if this war drags out…"

Obi-Wan's smile widened as he turned and sat down next to her. "Is that a complaint, my little Padawan?" He picked up the spoon, his lips curling into an even wider smirk. "Because I absolutely will make you try a local dish on every planet we visit, for as long as you still have to call me 'Master'."

Jaina glanced down at the bowl in front of her, gulping at the various meats and vegetables she didn't recognize, all floating around in the brownish-green stew.

"I suppose cuisine is a valuable source of insight into a people's culture and heritage," she muttered, attempting to convince herself more than anything. "It's definitely worth learning more about, even if it does not look so…"

"Appealing?" The Jedi Master offered. "I will say, the way things look can sometimes be very misleading, wouldn't you agree?"

He held up his spoon, and then looked back at her, his expression returning to mock sternness. "And besides, it is important for you to try it, not for your 'cultural insight'—but rather, for your culinary survival."

He paused. "…And for your Master's amusement."

Jaina snorted. "Amusement—I knew it, I knew you got a kick out of making me try strange foods!" She whined, shaking her head in mock despair. "Ugh."

The little Padawan picked up her spoon and poked at the thick, murky liquid in her bowl, half-expecting it to poke back. She wrinkled her nose at the floating bits. "You should know, Master, I'm not quite sure I find the prospect of projectile vomiting 'amusing'."

Obi-Wan smirked once more. "Oh, please," he deadpanned. "I have faith in your digestive system. Now, quit stalling. You will eat at least one bite, and then we will discuss the merits—or possible lack thereof—of the stew. And then," he paused, and then raised an eyebrow. "And then, my dearest, we will laugh."

Jaina heaved a heavy, long-suffering sigh, rolling her eyes fondly. She took a bit of the mush into her spoon and raised it. "…Cheers."

"Cheers." The Jedi Master echoed, his smirk widening, as he, too, took a spoonful and clinked it to hers.

He watched as his little one lifted her spoonful to her mouth, clearly bracing herself.

Jaina took a deep breath, then placed the spoon in her mouth, spending the next few seconds trying to figure out just how it made her taste buds feel—

—until her entire face twisted into a comical expression—one she'd likely never worn on her face before—as the intense sour flavors filled her palate. Her nose wrinkled, her eyes squeezed shut, her flushed cheeks puckered. "What the—"

Inadvertently, a small burst of laughter escaped Obi-Wan's lips, quickly stifled by his hand.

"Oh, my little one…" He chortled. "I am not sure what is more amusing to me right now—your face, or how incredibly accurate my mental prediction of your expression was."

"Very funny, Master," Jaina grumbled, reaching for her glass of water and taking a large gulp, shaking her head vehemently. "All right then. Your turn."

Obi-Wan, ever the picture of Jedi Master serenity, met his Padawan's gaze with a haughty raised eyebrow. "Fair is fair," he agreed, his eyes still dancing with restrained amusement. "I certainly hope you're not expecting me to react as…expressively as you did, my little Padawan. Because I assure you, you will be disappointed."

Jaina shrugged smugly.

He took a spoonful of the stew and placed it in his mouth.

For a moment, the Jedi Master's face remained impassive, betraying nothing. Then, almost imperceptibly, his left eye twitched.

Followed by an ever-so-slight scrunching of his nose, his mustache fluttering along with it.

Tiny movements, barely noticeable to anyone who didn't know him well enough, but to the little Padawan, they spoke volumes.

A small snort escaped Jaina's lips.

…one that eventually turned into a series of uncontrollable laughs. "Oh, Force, Master, your face—"

Obi-Wan forced himself to swallow, then cracked a smirk. At first, he tried to remain stern.

Then he quickly realized, it was futile.

He soon found himself shaking his head in fond amusement, gazing next to him at her round cheeks, her bright blue eyes, her flushed, rosy dimples—which seemed to make less and less appearances in their full, mirth-filled glory as the war dragged on.

"Well…" the Jedi Master eventually laughed, nudging her once more. "I did say that we'd laugh one way or another, didn't I?"

Jaina gazed up at her mentor, her dearest friend, her father in all but blood, as her laughter eventually died down into a wide, earnest grin of pure contentment. "Yeah. Yeah, you did say that."

She was completely certain that this moment of companionship, of levity, of family, in the midst of all that they had endured, would be one that she would remember forever. "And we definitely laughed."

Obi-Wan felt the warmth spread in his heart as he held her gaze for another moment, while her laughter slowed.

He appreciated the night for what it was—quality time with his littlest one…laughing along to a terribly disgusting stew…atop a rickety chair…in the middle of a dingy eatery…on a distant planet…

"You know," he said gently. "This is something I'll always cherish, darling. Hearing you laugh like this." The Jedi Master paused, his eyes filling with thoughtful melancholy. "You've been so…serious lately."

Jaina offered a weak shrug, lowering her gaze to the bowl and absently stirring. "War is a serious thing."

"Indeed it is, my little one," Obi-Wan replied softly, his own spoon forgotten as he focused on his Padawan. "And you are always serious when the situation demands it. That is why we've worked so well together."

He gently placed his hand over hers to still the restless stirring. "But it's important to find moments of light, even in the darkest times. That's what gives us the strength to keep going."

"Moments like this, dearest, moments of laughter, of joy, of family…they are reminders of all that we fight for."

The Jedi Master gently squeezed her hand. "And that is why I will treasure the moments that make you smile. Even if it's just a laugh over a terrible stew."