Author's note: this chapter has been edited to erase grammar and spelling mistakes
Answers to reviews
Face Yourself: Thanks for your review. You have valid points. I'm just not sure how consistent the Star Wars universe in itself really is. For most of Kano's curriculum, there have been precedential cases. My character passes his trials and becomes a knight at 16. Allowing this was probably a bad idea on the part of his superiors at the time. But it happened, and there was the case of Vernestra Rwoh (High Republic comics), becoming a knight at the age of 15. Then we have Quinlan Vos. When he was promoted to the rank of Master, he had technically not completed his apprentice's training. Vos' former Master, Tholme, had (Star Wars Omnibus/Quinlan Vos: Jedi in Darkness).Kano is granted the rank of Master at age 20 due to particular achievements. The Jedi Council themselves later realize that this was another mistake - despite his unique mastery of some aspects of the Force, Kano remains ill-tempered and passionate and all sorts of things a steadfast Jedi Master should not be. Granted, we have seen other Jedi Masters in both legends and Canon who showed equally questionable behaviour. And we can all agree that the Jedi Council made some mistakes and questionable decisions over the years. We clearly have different takes on fan fiction (my idea is to play with things and mix them up).
Guest: It's always fun to read your reviews, and you had some nice ideas some of which I'll try to build into the story.
Let's then look at Grieveous. Imma spoiler my own story and say: Grieveous is not the most interesting character to me. That's why he won't play much of a role in this story. What could an altercation between Kano and Grieveous look like? I only know Grieveous from the sequels and TCW where he looks like a brutal, strong but still primitive pawn to me. Then there is Kano — a human disaster and terribly bad Jedi, but a swordsman whose weapon is more than just his life, it is his very soul.
Combine pristine sword skill, considerable strength in the Force and the will and ability to use the dark side. I'm not sure how much of a chance a non-force sensitive asthmatic half robot would stand against that. To be honest, I have never imagined a duel between Yoda and Kano. This could be interesting, due to all the points you mentioned. Kano's preferred form is a refined, more precise, stylized variant of Form VII Vaapad. I call it "Kage no ryu' (yeah, I did take some anime and manga inspiration when writing Kano's character). That doesn't mean he never studied the other forms. He did. Could he defeat Yoda, the most powerful Jedi of his era? Interesting question.
In your other reviews, you bring up even more interesting points, more than I can answer for now. . In my opinion (which I don't claim to be right), there's some hypocrisy in most Jedi who try to be peacekeepers and warriors at the same time and not committing to either one, they fail at both. Kenshin Kano never found much resonance with the Jedi tenets to begin with. He commits to being a warrior early in his life, this being the only viable path he sees for himself. Kano's
relationship with the Jedi Order as a whole is strained, it goes as far as open animosity with Mace Windu. As far as Yoda is concerned: Yoda has a great deal of benevolence which Kano can appreciate, but he sees Yoda as too stuck in his old ways. And we have already seen that Kano has not much affinity for compromises.
Feeling alone, outcast, and seeing attachments as an asset, not as evil, those are some of the things he shares with Anakin and yes, he does try to help Anakin find his way in all that mess. Will he succeed? We will see.
~ 20 ~
Cast shadows
- You cannot fight your demons. You must become them -
****** Jedi Cruiser Negotiator, Cristophsis orbit
"STOP! STOP RIGHT THERE. DON'T MOVE!" Captain CT-7567, known to his brothers as 'Rex,' barked the order, his blaster unwavering as he pointed it at the dark, cloaked figure that had appeared out of nowhere. The figure's sudden presence was unnerving—no one had seen them enter the room; it was as if they had materialized from thin air. Ten more blasters quickly trained on the intruder, a tense silence falling over the bridge.
Rex's mind raced. He had encountered something like this before, early in the war—a Dathomiri witch named Ventress, whose mere presence had sent shivers down his spine. She had given Commander Skywalker a fight like no other, and Rex had witnessed firsthand just how dangerous the Sith and their ilk could be. From what little he understood, the Sith were like Jedi, but twisted by evil, corrupted by the dark side. Rex prided himself on being hard to intimidate, but this figure, this demon now looming on the bridge, stirred something deep and primal within him—a fear he fought desperately to keep at bay.
He tried to steady his breathing, telling himself that this was just another mission, another threat to neutralize. But as the figure slowly lifted their hood, revealing a human face, the fear only deepened. The man was young, with a face that might have been handsome if not for the prominent double scar that marred the left side. His expression was cold, aloof, and those dark, piercing eyes seemed to bore into Rex's soul, unsettling him in a way few things ever had.
Where is Commander Skywalker when you need him? Rex thought, his grip tightening on his blaster. If this man was what he suspected—a Sith assassin—then as mere clones, they wouldn't stand a chance.
At last, the doors slid open, and Skywalker stormed in, his lightsaber blazing. But then, to Rex's astonishment, the Commander halted abruptly, deactivated his weapon, and shook his head.
"Weapons down and at ease, everyone," Skywalker commanded with a deep sigh. "For Force's sake, Kenshin! Couldn't you have announced yourself like a normal person and not scared my men to death?"
"They're very much alive from what I see, and the security protocols on this cruiser are a joke. A youngling could have tricked these systems. Meanwhile, you could send a few of your men to service and refuel my ship. It's in hangar bay B-58," the other man retorted drily.
Skywalker sighed again and then introduced the visitor. "Men, meet Master Kenshin Kano, the Jedi Intelligence agent currently serving our battalion."
"That?...That guy is a Jedi?" Rex asked, his mouth gaping, casting a skeptical glance first at the man, then at his Commander. He liked to think that not much could faze him, but this man truly gave him the creeps. Weren't Jedi supposed to be… good?
"I was a Jedi last time I checked," the man replied, his tone laced with sarcasm. "And you are?"
Rex stiffened under the direct address. "I'm sorry, Sir. Clone Captain CT-7567, Sir!"
"Your name!? You're not a number," Kenshin inquired, rolling his eyes in annoyance.
"The name is Rex, Sir." He replied, holding himself even straighter.
Kenshin nodded in acknowledgment, stepping past Rex to insert a small data disk into the projector in the center of the room. Instantly, a detailed holo-model of a sprawling building complex appeared, surrounded by a wealth of information illuminating the various areas of the massive facility. It was an elaborate droid factory—one of enormous proportions.
Anakin's eyes went wide with shock. This was it—this was the secret mega-factory they had been hunting for months, the very facility that had been churning out wave after wave of battle droids, keeping the Separatists' war machine relentless and seemingly unstoppable. The revelation hit him like a thunderbolt, and for a moment, he was speechless.
Rex, standing beside him, couldn't hold back a gasp. The scale of the operation was staggering, and the fact that Master Kano had brought them this intel, the very information they had been desperately trying to uncover, left him in awe. Around the room, the clone troopers exchanged looks of disbelief and grim determination. They had been fighting against these droids for so long, suffering losses in countless battles. To finally see the source, the heart of the enemy's production, was both a relief and a challenge.
Anakin quickly regained his composure, a fierce light igniting in his eyes. "This changes everything," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. Then, louder, he addressed Kenshin, "We need to strike now. We can't let them continue production. Rex, call General Kenobi! Right now! Prepare the men. We're taking this facility down."
Rex nodded sharply, already issuing orders to his squad, the earlier fear forgotten in the wake of this critical mission.
"We've been looking for that intel for months!" Anakin exclaimed, turning back to Kenshin with wide eyes. "How did you get this? If we can destroy this factory, it could turn the tide—it could help us win the war!"
"Glad I could be of service, Commander Skywalker," Kenshin replied with a hint of a grin. "And if I told you how I acquired this intel, Windu might have me executed after all."
"Ugh, why do I even ask," Anakin muttered, shaking his head.
The war had spread quickly—too quickly—across the entire galaxy, and it had already dragged on far too long. The Grand Army of the Republic had been assembled in an astonishingly short amount of time, comprised of the dutiful Clones produced on Kamino and led by Jedi who had been thrust into the role of Generals. There were voices of dissent, too, questioning the new militaristic role of the Jedi. It felt wrong—deeply, fundamentally wrong—and Kenshin wasn't alone in feeling uneasy about the decisions the Council had made for the Order.
As Jedi, they had no place in a war. They were meant to be peacekeepers, not tools of the Republic's military. Yet here they were, forced into a role they had neither sought nor embraced. And in this hypocrisy, Kenshin felt they were failing at both—neither true soldiers nor true Jedi. What troubled him even more was the lack of scrutiny regarding the origin of the Clone Army. It had appeared as if by miracle, commissioned by Sifo-Dyas, a Jedi who had died under mysterious circumstances. The story was too convenient, with too many loose ends and unanswered questions for Kenshin to feel at ease.
Kenshin had been wise enough to refuse the role of General, instead taking on the role of a spy. When first approached with the idea of leading Clones, his response had been, "I can't stand people, and you want me to lead them?" His work in the shadows, however, soon proved invaluable. The intel he brought to light often tipped the scales in crucial battles and missions. Despite these successes, the war raged on, and Kenshin often felt as if he were merely scratching the surface of something enormous and dark, a small drop of water falling into a deep pit of lava, never able to reach or calm its fiery core.
Anakin, still on the cusp of adulthood, was a supernova of energy—resourceful, impulsive, and anything but stealthy. It was no surprise that he had been assigned to serve as a Commander under General Obi-Wan Kenobi. For an eighteen-year-old, it was a lot of responsibility, but Anakin's ego thrived in the position of command. His eighteenth birthday had been spent on a battlefield, dismantling dozens of droids with his lightsaber. The location was a blur in his memory, but two messages of congratulations stood out—one from Padmé and the other from Kenshin. That night, a small package had awaited him in his quarters—a gift. Inside, he found a dagger crafted from cortosis, a rare and obscenely expensive metal capable of resisting lightsabers and blasters. The weapon was small, simple, and beautiful, perfect for concealment. The note inside had simply read, May it serve you well. Anakin had smiled, knowing exactly who had sent it. Kenshin's affinity for non-energy weapons was well known, and this little dagger might indeed come in handy one day.
Every time Kenshin met with his former apprentice, he saw the changes in him—Anakin was growing, maturing. He felt a sense of contentment knowing Anakin was under Kenobi's watchful eye. As much as he missed Anakin and loved him like a brother, Kenshin was wary of himself. Quinlan had always told him to question but never doubt himself, yet Kenshin couldn't shake those doubts. He didn't trust himself to be the mentor Anakin needed—not after Geonosis. In Kenobi, Anakin had found someone steadfast and wise to look up to. Obi-Wan was the embodiment of stability and calculated composure, qualities Kenshin believed would serve Anakin better than he ever could.
Together, Obi-Wan, Anakin, and the 212th Battalion had achieved some of the Republic's most significant victories by this time, and Anakin had begun to make a name for himself. His tactics were bold, unorthodox, but undeniably effective. Where Kenobi was known as "The Negotiator," Anakin had earned the title of "Hero with No Fear." Kenshin operated in the shadows, though rumors had begun to circulate about a terrifyingly capable Jedi spy aiding the 212th. A name had emerged for him too, though no one knew the identity behind it—they called him "The Demon."
Kenobi and Skywalker were brilliant stars in a dark, scorched sky. But despite all their incredible achievements, the truth was that the Grand Army of the Republic was facing severe troop depletion, while the Separatist Droid Army steadily gained ground. Kenshin's discovery of the droid factory and the details surrounding it could indeed be the key to turning the tide of the war.
The fleet was stationed above Ryloth, where Kenobi was currently coordinating a relief effort on the planet's surface. They sent him an urgent notification to return to the Negotiator and transferred the data via encrypted channels to the Jedi Council. As a result, the cruiser was ordered back to Coruscant, where new tactics would be developed. Finally, Anakin ushered Kenshin out of the briefing room. "You look like you're in desperate need of a meal and some rest. Let's go eat something."
"You know me too well," Kenshin replied with a faint grin.
But did he really? Since the war had begun, Anakin had hardly seen his Master anymore. As much as he relished his role as a Commander—far more than being a mere Jedi Padawan—there was a growing sense of unease. The responsibilities and decisions he faced daily gave him purpose, allowed him to make a difference. Kenobi was a great mentor, always there with wise advice when needed. Yet, there was an eternal tension within him, a constant edge that he couldn't shake. He felt lonely, too. Padmé was far away on Coruscant, deeply immersed in her senatorial duties. The galaxy's capital seemed a world apart from wherever he was sent. All he had were the rare, secret transmissions to Coruscant when he could speak to her.
With Kenshin, even that connection was missing. His Master was always working undercover, nearly impossible to contact unless Kenshin initiated it himself, usually when delivering crucial intel. Anakin missed having a friend nearby. He missed the erratic nature of Kenshin's presence that at the same time had such a unique way of making him feel safe and reassured. Instead, he was left alone with his thoughts—many of them intrusive and troubling. It was in Anakin's nature to worry about those he cared for, and the war did nothing to help with that. Since Geonosis, there had been a shadow, a sadness in Kenshin's eyes that he would never speak of. Anakin had tried to get him to open up, but in vain. Kenshin was too skilled at building walls around himself. All the while, Anakin longed for comfort and reassurance far more often than he would ever admit. The war took a toll on his spirit, chipping away at the carefree demeanor he tried to maintain around the men he commanded.
"What's wrong?" Kenshin asked once they had reached the ship's mess, as if reading Anakin's thoughts. A droid placed a meal in front of each of them—military rations with their usual, questionable taste, but still edible.
"Nothing. Everything's fine. With the intel you've provided, we can deal the Seppies a blow so devastating they won't know what hit them," Anakin replied, his enthusiasm a bit too forced.
Kenshin merely raised an eyebrow. Anakin had never been good at hiding his feelings, especially not from his Master.
New conflicts erupted across the galaxy on a daily basis, and the sense of doom that Kenshin and many other Jedi felt lingering in the air grew thicker with each passing day. For weeks now, he had woken up with a headache that never seemed to leave. He had experienced war and its darkness before, but this felt different, more pervasive. He could only imagine how Anakin must have been feeling.
The Padawan sighed. "I guess I'm a bit tired. Ryloth was rough. I could use a break. We've been trying to lay siege to the Separatist strongholds for weeks before the breakthrough."
"That's not what's really bothering you."
"Would you mind staying out of my head?" Anakin snapped, irritated. He had missed his Master, but not his unnerving ability to read his thoughts at will.
For a long moment, Anakin said nothing. There had been another attempt on Padmé's life. She was opposing a military enhancement bill, and while he understood the Republic's need for more troops, the very idea made his blood boil. One of her political opponents had decided to take the coward's route, but thankfully, Captain Panaka had once again proven himself a capable protector, averting what could have been a tragedy.
"Have you ever loved, Master?" Anakin asked at last.
Without so much as a flinch, and to Anakin's great surprise, Kenshin replied, "Yes. Still do."
"Really?" he blurted out before he could stop himself, feeling immediately foolish.
"Unbelievable, I know," Kenshin retorted dryly.
"Kyra? The archaeologist we met at Dex's, like, a century ago?"
"No. Kyra and I… we're just friends," Kenshin said, looking away as if to avoid Anakin's gaze.
Kyra was the last person he wanted to think about. They had been friends, yes, for nearly eight years. When he was called back to Coruscant permanently, they had seen each other more often, and one thing had led to another. There had been nights he hadn't spent in his quarters at the Jedi Temple, nor scouring the underground for information or artifacts. It had all been fun and games until Kyra had confessed her feelings for him. And it had terrified him.
He had stared at her for what felt like an eternity before finally saying, "We should not see each other again. Forget me!" Then he had left, never to contact her again, nor did he answer any of her messages or calls. Kenshin was battling demons of his own, just as he pursued an ominous enemy without a name or face. He couldn't deal with another person's emotions in his life, and explaining that to Kyra had felt impossible. He knew he had acted like an asshole, and he hated himself for it.
"Friends. Right," Anakin teased with a small grin.
"Let's say it's complicated," Kenshin admitted, exhaling deeply. "Her name was Araya."
"Was?"
"She's dead."
Anakin didn't know what to say.
"We were both new knights, young and foolish enough to believe we could save the galaxy on our own. I was sixteen, she was eighteen. We had been on several missions together as Padawans, and when we were promoted to Knighthood, we decided to team up. It took us a long time to understand what was happening between us. We knew it was against the code, but we couldn't help it. We didn't know what the right thing to do was—whether to live it in secret, leave the Jedi Order, or do something else entirely. All we knew was that we loved each other deeply. We decided to give it time, hoping that time would show us the way. But that time never came. We were on Zygerria, trying to dismantle a slaver's ring. We had intel on their next move, but we didn't have enough forces—it was just the two of us. While I was trying to gather reinforcements, she went in alone, without telling me. They captured her. I found her eventually, but it was too late. I held her as she died. I had failed to save her, just as I had failed to save my Master."
"It wasn't your fault," Anakin said quietly.
"It didn't feel that way. It still doesn't. I can only guess what Padmé means to you, and it's not my place to judge. Love is something beautiful. Love is powerful."
"Who says it's about Padmé? It was just… a theoretical question!"
"I'm an idiot, but I'm neither stupid nor blind." It had been obvious—the moments on the terrace on Naboo, the way the senator had looked at the Jedi apprentice, and how he had looked back. It didn't take a Force-sensitive to understand what was going on.
"The code forbids attachments," Anakin said, though his heart wasn't in it.
"The code doesn't always make sense. Attachments are forbidden, yes, but that doesn't mean they're wrong."
Anakin gave him a questioning look, his uncertainty clear.
"Controlling our passions while being in love—that's what they should teach us to be wary of. Love itself can save you, not condemn you. Love brings both joy and pain, and how you deal with the bad part determines your character and the dark side's hold over you. The Jedi code lacks the ability to recognize our nature and find value in our lives."
An awkward silence followed. Had Kenshin spoken these words in front of any other Jedi, he might already be facing consequences. But to Anakin, it meant a great deal. Finally, Kenshin added, "I'm probably the wrong guy to ask for this kind of advice. I have yet to heed my own words and practice what I preach."
Kenshin's comlink chirped.
"Is there anywhere I can take this in private?"
"Why not here?"
"With droids and dozens of troopers around? My contact wouldn't appreciate that."
"Right now, it's just you and me in here."
"Anakin, please!"
Anakin felt a pang of alienation as his Master refused to take the call in his presence, but he saw no point in arguing. He led Kenshin to his quarters instead.
Once alone, Kenshin quickly scanned the room for listening devices and bugs. To his relief, it was clear.
He pressed the button on his comlink, and the head of a Bith appeared as a holo image.
"You asked to be alerted in case we found unusual patterns. In all honesty, we don't have much—just a few transmissions we could only trace partially, and a suspicious transport heading to Tatooine around the time you indicated. All of it was linked to a location in the political district on Coruscant, but we haven't been able to pinpoint the exact source. Someone also inquired about a human female named Shmi Skywalker and made contact with one of the Tusken leaders in the area where the woman lived. Whoever it was operated very cautiously and clearly knew what they were doing. They used multiple middlemen and encrypted channels, so it took us quite a while and considerable effort to decipher even this much. One of the transports we traced eventually led to Serenno. The data package is waiting for you in the usual location. That's all."
"Thank you. Your compensation will be in your account shortly."
"As always, a pleasure doing business with you!" The informant smiled, bowed, and the holo image faded away.
Kenshin suppressed a hearty curse. This merely confirmed that Anakin's mother's death had been a planned murder. But he still didn't know who had targeted her or why. And why there had been a Sith artifact involved—the one he had found. All his efforts had led to nothing but dead ends.
Serenno. This might be a new lead.
Was all this Dooku's doing? But why?
Kenshin moved to one of the bunks and collapsed onto it. When Anakin returned half an hour later, he found his Master asleep, still in his boots and weapons, shivering and deeply agitated. Gently, the Padawan draped a blanket over him, then took one of his hands and caressed his forehead. Kenshin didn't wake at the touch, but Anakin could sense deep distress through the Force. This was troubling. His Master usually kept his presence in the Force tightly concealed, never letting anything slip past his shields—not even in his sleep. Quietly, Anakin recited a Huttese poem, one his mother had told him when he was sick as a child, holding his hand and stroking his forehead just as he did now with Kenshin. After a long while, the shaking stopped.
Back on Coruscant, Kenshin sensed he wasn't the only one who had returned to the base. The feeling unsettled him. When Quinlan's usually optimistic and confident nature felt as muted in the Force as it did now, something was seriously wrong. There were only so many places in the Temple where the Kiffar would go to be alone, and Kenshin soon found his friend. He snuck up from behind and squeezed him in a big, tight hug.
"K-dog! I like the bones in my body intact and in one piece, thank you very much!" Quinlan protested, though the tone was playful.
"What about a drink? I have a bottle of Corellian wine in my quarters that isn't getting any better just sitting there."
"Corellian wine? What in the Force happened for such a delicacy to find its way to you?"
"A gift from Kenobi. He needed some messages covertly transferred to a certain someone, and I did that for him."
"Out of the goodness of your heart, of course! You never miss a chance to bend the rules when you can."
"Damn right. Now stop being an ugly excuse for a statue and come on!"
"You're one to talk—you look like a tattered nexu! Have you ever changed your clothes since the war started?"
"Makes me blend in better with my work environment," Kenshin replied drily.
Quinlan wasn't wrong. Kenshin's shaggy attire resembled rags more than anything else. His appearance was, visibly so, the last thing on his mind.
In the secure tranquility of Kenshin's quarters, Quinlan downed two glasses of the exquisite wine in quick succession.
Kenshin gave him a questioning look and said, "I have something stronger than wine, you know."
"That wouldn't be wise."
"I'm not a wise man. Neither are you."
For a long time, neither spoke.
"Fuck, Kenshin! FUCK!" Quinlan finally exploded. "I FAILED! I've been out there for TWO YEARS, and I knew nothing about what was being planned on Geonosis, and two hundred Jedi died there. Aayla might have died. You might have died!"
"No one knew Dooku had fallen to the dark side and was serving the Sith. What can I say, other than what you told me a few months ago? I had informants on Geonosis too, and I had no idea. Nobody did. Whoever is pulling the strings is powerful, vicious, stealthy, and extremely clever. It's not your fault, Quin—you can't blame yourself for what happened on Geonosis."
"When I told you not to blame yourself for everything bad that happens in the galaxy, did you listen?"
Kenshin gave a sad smile. "No, not really. But it still helped."
He hadn't told Quinlan what had happened when he was wandering alone in the desert on Tatooine, but he did share the story of the amulet, what Dooku had said, and the duel where he had encountered a darkness far greater than Dooku alone. Quinlan listened in grave silence.
When Kenshin finished, he fumbled with a small stick containing a yellow liquid and emptied the contents into his drink.
"Please tell me that isn't what I think it is!" Quinlan protested, pointing at the stick.
"What do you want me to do? Painkillers stopped working a long time ago."
"You're a blasted, kriffin' idiot."
"That much I know."
"Go see the healers, for Force's sake!"
"In the past year, I've been thrust into walls, shot, blown to pieces, beaten to a pulp, and sliced up with lightsabers. There's only so much the healers can do!"
"And that stuff right there will kill you much sooner than later! You and that half a brain cell you have left!"
"I have a feeling I'm not going to live to an old age anyway."
"You're a force-forsaken nerfherder. Your life might mean nothing to you, but you have a Padawan to take care of and friends who, despite your beliefs, care about you!"
Quinlan reached into a pocket in his robes, pulled out a small sachet, and handed it to Kenshin. "Use this instead. It's not as strong, but far less damaging."
"And that is?"
"Mari herbs, from Kiffar. They have a calming effect on your mind and help with the pain. You can smoke it, or if that's not an option, just chew it. That stash should last you a month. I'll get you more. Just please, for the love of all that is holy, stay the kriff away from those death sticks."
"I'll do my best," Kenshin said half-heartedly.
"So, what are you up to next?" Quinlan asked.
"Actually, I've got somewhere to be later today. A Senate session is about to begin in an hour."
"What in all moons and stars drives you to attend a Senate session?!"
"A feeling," Kenshin replied. "Just a feeling. Anakin mentioned something about Senator Amidala and a military enhancement bill—things are getting a little heated over there. I think I should look into it."
Kenshin stepped into the pod reserved for members of the Jedi Order, currently empty, and carefully remained in the shadows to obscure himself from view. He tightened his shields in the Force once more, ensuring that nothing and no one would take notice of his presence unless they happened to catch a glimpse of his physical form pressed against the wall. He didn't need to see much; he could hear everything being said, and the Force revealed more than enough to him. The chamber was a cauldron of agitation, filled with strong emotions from all sides regarding the bill that was about to be brought to the Senate floor.
A speech opposing the bill to commission five million more clones was scheduled to be delivered by Bail Organa, but the revered senator was nowhere to be found. At last, it was Senator Amidala who stepped forward to speak on his behalf. Kenshin couldn't help but admire her courage. By now, he knew she had been opposing the bill since its inception, enduring slurs like "traitor" and "unpatriotic" as the more polite criticisms thrown her way. And then there was the most recent attempt on her life.
With unflinching resolve, Amidala made the sensible proposition to stop the war, not escalate it. Her words were met with a wave of clamour and chaos in the Senate chamber. She directly addressed the devastating impact of the war—how it was impoverishing the people on thousands of worlds, eroding their very means of survival. Slowly but surely, her passionate speech began to sway the Senate, opening more minds to the idea of pursuing a diplomatic solution rather than increasing war efforts.
As Kenshin listened intently to Amidala's fiery address, something else caught his attention. The Chancellor. Palpatine's words were as slippery and smooth as those of most politicians, but his aura was another matter entirely. There was something about it that sent a chill through Kenshin, something that didn't align with a man supposedly dedicated to restoring peace.
He began to scan the chamber more carefully, trying to pinpoint the source of his unease, when it hit him. He supressed a pained cry and his knees buckled. He collapsed to the floor, his vision blackened. The terror in the Force was so profound, so unspeakably malevolent, that it seemed to tear at the very fabric of his being. It wasn't just pain; it was a darkness that seeped into his soul, clawing at his mind with violent fury.
For a moment, it felt as though the darkness would consume him entirely, but as suddenly as it had come, it was gone. The presence vanished, leaving Kenshin gasping for air on the cold floor of the pod. His body trembled as he fought to regain control, his mind reeling from the encounter. It took nearly a minute for his breathing to return to some semblance of normalcy, but the lingering dread refused to dissipate.
He had sensed this presence before—once, in the deserts of Tatooine, when Shmi Skywalker's life had slipped out of his reach. It was the same darkness, the same malevolent force that had left him powerless and broken in the sand. But this time, it was more potent, more terrifying. Kenshin remained on the floor, staring at nothing, as the weight of what he had just experienced settled over him like a suffocating shroud.
Padmé retreated into her office, her mind reeling from the intensity of the Senate session. Her speech had seemed to sway some minds, but she knew better than to be overly optimistic. The final outcome would remain uncertain until the votes were cast. The madness and short-sightedness she encountered daily in this war left her feeling disheartened. She poured every ounce of her energy into fighting for a peaceful solution, but even her usually indomitable spirit was beginning to falter under the weight of the relentless conflict.
She craved solitude, needing a moment to collect herself, away from the noise and demands of the day. Her office would be empty by now—her aides and maids having retired for the evening. She longed for the quiet, the chance to simply breathe without the burden of conversation. With a sigh of relief, she stepped through the door and closed it behind her. The silence was broken by a startled shriek as she instinctively reached for the small blaster hidden beneath her skirt.
"Senator Amidala."
The dark silhouette turned to face her, and Padmé's grip on the blaster loosened, though her knuckles remained white from the tension. It was a Jedi. She recognized Kenshin Kano, Anakin's Master, whom she had met on a few occasions—once when both he and Anakin had been assigned as her protectors, and then again on Geonosis. Anakin often spoke of him, admiring him as a brother figure, someone he looked up to with great respect. For Anakin to hold someone in such high regard was no small thing. Yet, Padmé herself wasn't entirely sure what to make of the man. He wasn't like other Jedi; there was always something dark and uncanny about him that unsettled her.
"Master Kano..." she began, her voice tinged with more than a hint of annoyance at his uninvited intrusion. Despite her irritation, she didn't forget her manners and gestured to Threepio to bring refreshments.
"I appreciate you dedicating some of your undoubtedly valuable time to come see me, but I would much prefer if you announced yourself. You scared me to the bones!"
"I'm sorry," he muttered, the words a hollow formality devoid of genuine apology. "You've delivered a reasonable and well-laid-out plea to the Senate, and I'm sorry you're being treated as an unpatriotic partisan. This war has been going on for too long already; it must end."
Padmé's frustration surged as the Jedi cut straight to the heart of the matter. She decided to abandon any pretense of pleasantries and allowed her pent-up frustration to spill forth.
"Unfortunately, too few see it that way. Too few senators understand or even see the extent of the damage this war is causing. The Banking Clan, now that it's deregulated, is raising interest rates by 25%. Just the interest alone could bankrupt the Republic, stripping away the basic needs of our people. And to add fuel to the fire, the Separatists, according to the Banking Clan representative, have commissioned three million more battle droids."
"In a few days, my Padawan will be on his way to do something about that," Kenshin replied. At the last moment, he refrained from saying "your boyfriend."
Indeed, Anakin had been assigned to strike at the recently discovered droid factory, alongside Kenobi and the 212th.
Padmé continued, her voice heavy with despair. "More troops will only prolong the fight. That won't help us! Master Kano, I'm devastated by the insanity we're facing. All I want is to end the war and protect our people, and I'm being accused of separatist conspiracy. Fellow senators opposing the bill have been threatened. My own uncle was attacked by thugs, and the police dismiss it as an unfortunate accident, but I know it's related to his opposition to the bill. Bail Organa himself was attacked—that's why he didn't deliver his speech today; he was in the hospital."
Exhausted, she sank into a chair as Threepio returned with cold drinks. She absentmindedly grabbed a glass, handing the other to Kenshin.
"This is madness. It has been nothing but madness since the war began!"
"Planned madness, Senator. Planned, just like the death of Mina Bonteri at the hands of Dooku's thugs."
Padmé's breath caught in her throat as she met his gaze. "You believe Dooku is pulling these strings?"
"This is what I'm trying to find out. I sense there is more than just Dooku behind it. But who or what? These are dark times."
Dark times indeed, Padmé thought, and as she studied Kenshin, she realized there was far more to him than the façade of the thuggish brute he outwardly displayed. Yet she still couldn't fathom the true reason for his visit. It was clear he hadn't come just to chat or compliment her on her speech.
"As much as I appreciate your visit, Master Kano, and as glad as I am that we see eye to eye on this matter, what brought you here?"
"How do you feel about the Chancellor?"
"Chancellor Palpatine?"
"Do you feel he is genuine in his attempts to work toward a peaceful solution?"
Padmé hesitated, her mind racing. "Oh. I mean… Chancellor Palpatine is one of my oldest advisers, and he served as my ambassador when I was Queen of Naboo."
"Interesting answer. Evasive. Does he keep corruption from taking hold in the Senate? Does his supposedly noble past prevent a quest for power?"
Her eyes began to glitter with barely contained despair as his questions struck a nerve. Padmé understood exactly what Kano was implying, and it terrified her. These were thoughts she had not allowed herself to fully confront, the dark suspicions she had buried deep within her mind. The Jedi had hit upon that sour spot she had avoided, not because she was unaware, but because she had not wanted to see the truth lurking beneath the surface.
Had Palpatine truly supported her crusade against the military enhancement bill? Or had he merely cloaked his true intentions behind the veil of "letting the wheels of democracy turn"?
"Your silence answers my question better than words could. Neither of us knows what we're up against. But you've understood that what used to be true and trustworthy may no longer be so. Have a good night, Senator."
The soft whoosh of the door opening and closing was the only sound as Kenshin left, leaving Padmé alone with her thoughts. She stared at the glass in her hand, her heart heavy with the realization that the world she knew was shifting beneath her feet. The war had changed everything, including the people she thought she could trust. And in that moment, she felt a deep, gnawing fear that the battle she was fighting might be far more insidious than she had ever imagined.
Despite the late hour when he returned to the Temple, sleep wouldn't come. When it finally did, it was restless and fleeting. Barely half an hour passed before Kenshin woke with a start, his heart pounding like a drum. He couldn't remember the nightmare that had jolted him awake, only that a sickening sensation lingered, clinging to him like a shadow. Unable to find solace in his bed, he sought out the Temple Garden, which was deserted at this hour. Perhaps meditation would bring the much-needed rest he craved. More than ever, he could relate to Anakin's struggle with meditation. For most of his life, it had been difficult for Kenshin as well—especially after his Master had died. However, the exhaustion that weighed on him now had one advantage: it made transcending into meditation easier.
To be a Jedi is to confront their fear, their darkness.
It was a wisdom Kenobi had imparted to him, one that Obi-Wan had received from Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan was the picture-perfect Jedi, yet he was far from harsh in his judgments. He was one of the few knights and masters who hadn't condemned Kenshin for mourning his Master. Obi-Wan had experienced that terrible loss himself. Kenshin had never asked for Obi-Wan's counsel or comfort, but Obi-Wan had given it nonetheless. And so, Kenshin had finally worked up the courage to take up meditation again, knowing full well that his darkest emotions, fears, and sadness would resurface. He had to face them—that was what his Master's Force ghost had been trying to tell him. And sometimes, very rarely, the Force allowed him to transcend beyond the darkness, granting him a moment of calm and serenity, or even insight. He needed to know who or what this dark presence had been. He needed to hunt it down—the elusive source of all evil.
Finally, he sank deep into meditation, finding a semblance of serenity when a warning nudged his mind. There was someone.
A split-second later he was firmly gripping both of his attacker's hands and blocking their offensive blow. She—a female human—held a purple lightsaber, its shade a little lighter than his own, which quickly deactivated back into its hilt. He sensed that she wasn't after his life and let go, watching as the woman rubbed her assaulted wrists and gave a content, devious smile. She stood a little taller than him, her silver, wavy hair framing a weathered, determined face.
"Now if that isn't the demon himself. I thought you'd be taller."
Kenshin responded with a questioning glance.
"The demon. The GAR's greatest urban legend. A scarily capable, elusive secret agent and powerful warrior, terror of the CIS. I wasn't entirely sure if it was you, but after observing you and what little is known of your operations for a while, my senses told me I was looking at the right man."
"And you are?"
"I am the one they call the Dark Woman. After everything I've heard, and when I got the news you were back on Coruscant, I had to finally see for myself. You have quite the reputation!"
"The moments of peace I'm granted are rare. And you just disrupted one," Kenshin growled, now pointing the tip of his own lightsaber blade at the woman's throat.
"Hm… You're impulsive, aggressive… Looks like the rumors are true. A heretic who disrespects the Jedi Code and flirts too much with the dark side—those are among the nicer things they say about you."
"I don't know what makes you think I care about your opinion. What do you want, other than to annoy the holy bantha crap out of me?"
"I was merely curious, Kano. Master Windu and the Council seem to harbor some strong feelings against you, and that's unusual for them, being usually so composed."
"I'm aware of that, and I don't care. Shut the kriff up and leave!"
The Dark Woman did as he asked, sending him another smile that could have been malicious or roguish—he couldn't tell.
The next morning found Kenshin hidden behind a stack of books and datapads. More and more, he had come to love the archives. It was quiet, and hardly anyone ever bothered him there, apart from Madame Nu, who had little appreciation for his habit of bringing snacks and hot beverages into the library.
As he sifted through the documents, he shook his head, pondering the strange encounter of the night before.
The Dark Woman. A quick search revealed her real name: An'ya Kuro. She seemed a rather peculiar individual, almost a religious fanatic. But that still didn't explain what she had wanted. It was just as strange as the data he had unearthed in the last few hours. His methods of searching involved some slicing and less-than-legal techniques, but they were effective and efficient.
He had found hints about shady investments in minor suppliers of energy conglomerates, banking businesses, and financial transactions. There had been a surge in the military sector before the Clone Wars—companies like Baktoid Armor Works, Haor Chall Engineering, and Colicoid Creation Nest were all involved. The data suggested some nefarious business had unfolded.
Then there was Palpatine's personal history. His family had tragically died in what was described as an accident, but not much was said about the circumstances. The most intriguing document was a diary written by a Jedi Master named Ronhar Kim. Kim's homeworld? Naboo, just like Palpatine's. The earliest entries dated back to when Valorum had still been Chancellor. Kim wrote about his suspicions that the hidden Sith Lord was among the leading members of the Republic government. He and his Padawan had even developed plans to conduct midichlorian tests on all the Senate members to determine their counts—whoever had the highest count would clearly be the Sith they were looking for. But then the diary abruptly stopped. Further research revealed that Kim and his apprentice had died on a supposedly simple mission to Merson, which had turned into a hopeless, devastating defeat. Kenshin also found that the two Jedi had been publicly mourned by Palpatine before the full Galactic Senate. The now Supreme Chancellor had used the incident to further goad the war effort and increase security measures, thus boosting his own executive power.
"Hey," Anakin said as a greeting. The apprentice had spotted him in the library and approached.
Kenshin looked older and more worn than the last time they had met. But we met just yesterday, Anakin thought. Dark brown eyes flicked to him, a disturbed spark of purple glimmering within them for a brief moment. Then it was gone, but not before Anakin caught a glimpse of deep, unimaginable sadness. Something dark.
"You okay, Master?"
"Yeah," Kenshin replied quickly. Too quickly for Anakin to believe it, but he knew that prying would be pointless. There it was again—the feeling that his Master was drifting away, that an uncomfortable distance was growing between them. A sense of fear flared up in Anakin. I'm still his Padawan, he thought. Not in the fierce, impatient way of an apprentice eager to become a Jedi Knight, but in the way of a boy who longed for the comfort of his older brother.
He was seeking Kenshin's counsel for the upcoming mission to the droid factory. The Council had authorized the operation, and the intel provided was extensive. Kenobi would lead the global part of the operation, but Anakin would manage everything on the ground. His preparation was flawless—so thorough it was almost unlike his spontaneous nature, and Kenshin stated as much. There wasn't much advice he truly needed.
"Hey, wanna spar?" Anakin suggested, concluding their conversation. "We haven't done that in a long time, and you could use the exercise!"
"Someone's desperate to get his ass kicked," Kenshin replied, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
In the dojo, Anakin almost regretted challenging his Master to a duel. He held his own longer than usual—he had progressed considerably in the past months—but in the end, he still got his ass handed to him, and not on a silver platter either.
"You still got it, Master! But you should work on your stamina—you're panting like a mating bantha!"
"A what!?"
Anakin laughed uncontrollably while dodging a new series of rapid blows, and the duel recommenced. It ended in another defeat for the Padawan, though this time he came closer to winning.
"You've gotten good!" Kenshin acknowledged with a genuine smile. It had been a long time since Anakin had seen him smile like that.
Master and apprentice were just about to leave the dojo when a young, high-pitched voice called after them, followed by rapid footsteps.
"Kenshin! Master Kenshin!" A young Echani girl was running toward them, stopping to look up at him expectantly. Kenshin pondered for a moment… yes, he remembered her. Nari, the girl he had encountered a few months earlier.
"Do you want to train with me? You could show me more tricks! Please?"
Kenshin didn't say anything in response. He nearly froze. Initiates were exasperating.
Anakin chimed in with a wide grin on his face. "Oh, I'm sure he'll be glad to. And you're lucky—he's even got some spare time on his hands." He patted Kenshin on the shoulder, who sent him a glare that conveyed, you'll pay for that later.
Anakin's grin widened. Nothing better than some sweet little revenge, and his cranky gundark of a Master could use some cheering up. This youngling had appeared at just the right time.
"See? Your Padawan doesn't mind if I borrow you for a while!" Nari said cheerfully.
The dark-haired Jedi sighed. "No."
"Why not?" she inquired.
"I'm not good company for a youngling."
"Don't worry. I know who you are! When Master Drallig asked how I learned the tricks you showed me last time and I told him your name, he knew you. He said you're the best swordsman and the worst Jedi he's ever seen."
"He's right. At least about the last part. I don't know about the first."
"But… when you're good with a lightsaber, how can you be a bad Jedi?"
"Being good with a lightsaber doesn't make you a good Jedi. One has nothing to do with the other!"
"You could still teach me a few more moves!"
"Master Drallig or your other teachers will not be happy if they see you around me."
"Actually, he said it's good if I learn from you. And it's good if we prepare."
"Prepare for what?"
"They said some of us might soon be assigned to Jedi cruisers, to help the clones or something. But it hasn't been decided yet."
Kenshin's face went pale. He looked at Anakin.
"Is that true? They want to send younglings to war?"
"Stop calling me a youngling! I'm eight!" Nari protested, but neither man listened.
"I heard someone in the Senate made a request of the kind. The Council refused for now, but there were politicians who wanted to see more Jedi supporting the war effort," Anakin replied.
"So they're still considering it?"
"Honestly, Master, I don't think it's going to happen. They're younglings, after all. What can children do to support a war effort?"
Have they gone completely mad? Kenshin thought, unsure if he meant the Council for even considering such a request or the ruthless scum that some of the power-hungry senators were. In the end, he did give in and gave Nari another lesson. She was talented—very talented—and moved with a precision that was mind-blowing for someone so young. The joy she radiated as he worked with her made even him smile before his face turned grim again. If anyone on the Council approved of sending her or other initiates into the field, he'd set the Council chamber on fire.
Later that night, with the darkness already settled in, Kenshin made himself comfortable in his favorite spot on the Temple roof.
Millions of lights blinked in the distance from Coruscant's ever-flowing traffic. It was as if there wasn't a galaxy at war, with billions of beings suffering from it.
How could it end? What Padmé Amidala had said was painfully true—every single word. Escalating the war effort was a devastating measure, cutting into the Republic's own flesh and undermining the principles and ideals the Republic stood for and that the Jedi defended. Civilians in thousands of systems were suffering, clones and Jedi alike sent to be slaughtered in battle after battle. What good did it really do? The war raged on, yet no one in the GAR nor the Jedi Council seemed willing to see that their tactics weren't working. What did the Senate do to stop the war? Every politician on that floor pretended to want to end the war, but what did they really do? What did they truly achieve? He had held his tongue the last time he talked to Anakin, but the truth was—Palpatine's concerned face was so fake it made him want to vomit.
When Count Dooku had said the Republic was rotten and corrupt, he had been right, as much as Kenshin hated to admit it. Not that Dooku or the CIS were any better. The Count was greedy, hungry for power, and cruel. The ideals he pretended to hold dear were merely a pretext, a cover for his true, dirty intentions.
As flawed as the Republic was, as long as there were people like Amidala and Organa, maybe there was hope for a better world to come.
Kenshin didn't wonder whether he was standing on the right side in this war. There should be no war at all. Hiro, his old sword master, had once said that to kill a dragon, one must cut off its head.
On his home planet of Nanta, during the war to fight off the occupation, it had been no different. He and his people had been no more than a handful of dirty rebels. And yet, they had cut off the dragon's head and freed their world.
The Clone Wars were a much more complex battlefield, and its dragon was much more powerful. This dragon—this obscure entity whose power he had only sensed glimpses of. Whoever had cast these shadows over the galaxy, obscuring and sickening even the vibrations of the Force, was a phantom menace. But there was no phantom he had yet encountered that didn't have a quite physical reality to it. A dragon's head could always be cut off. It was simply a matter of finding its lair. He reminisced about the Senate session and wondered if he had already been looking at it.
Kenshin didn't fear the darkness. And he was good at finding things. The time had come to do what needed to be done.
Anakin's departure for the droid factory mission was scheduled for the next day. Kenshin would stay at the Temple for a while longer. After their training duel, he had finally listened to Quinlan and gone to the healer's ward. Although he had won both matches, it had cost him much more than it should have. Something about his body just felt off. Madame Che, the Chief Healer, had immediately grounded him for a week. She discovered some internal injuries that had not fully healed, along with a minor concussion—courtesy of a rough day when he'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time. That explained the blasted headaches. Despite his reluctance, Kenshin wasn't entirely unhappy about the enforced rest. It would grant him a much-needed break, and he planned to spend the entirety of the week in bed if he could manage to not think about all the loose ends he was trying to tie up.
He indulged in a portion of the herbs Quinlan had given him. Half an hour later, the herbs began to take effect, easing the constant restlessness that gnawed at him. He meditated, and this time, found a sense of serenity. Knowing that he wouldn't have to get up early the next day, roaming about in the most impossible Force-forsaken places, was one of the best sensations he'd known in a long while. He pulled a blanket over himself, stretched out his limbs, and for the first time in ages, drifted into a deep, restful, dreamless sleep.
The absence of dreams was the best part. Until he felt something poking him, followed by a hand shaking his shoulder. He grunted and pulled the blanket over his head, hoping that this dream—though it felt disturbingly real—would pass. It didn't.
"Wake up! Please, wake up! I need you!" someone pleaded, their voice frantic and pleading. Kenshin blinked groggily, trying to make sense of the situation. "Anakin? What the…?" His voice trailed off as he took in the sight of his Padawan, his face twisted in despair.
"Padmé! She's gone! Help me!" Tears welled in Anakin's eyes, his expression filled with a despair Kenshin had never seen before in his student.
He reached out, placing a steadying hand on Anakin's shoulder. "Slow down! I'll help you, but first you need to tell me what happened."
Anakin quickly explained. Padmé had disappeared, and no one could find her. The authorities had been alerted, of course, but what could they possibly do?
Without wasting a moment, Kenshin called for his astromech, Roku, and requested R2-D2's assistance as well.
"One of her political opponents must be behind this," Kenshin reasoned, „ That Rodian she calls uncle and other senators have been assaulted as well. We need to find out if they're keeping her on Coruscant or if they took her off-planet. I suspect the latter. And we need to be fast."
"What makes you think they took her off-planet?" Anakin asked, his voice tinged with desperation.
"It's easier to dispose of a galaxy-wide known senator somewhere in the Outer Rim than in the Galactic capital. And they may have other plans besides killing her. I'll alert my contacts in the Coruscant underworld anyway."
The young Jedi Master wasted no time. He sent a series of coded messages to various contacts—shady figures and spies within his network—while instructing Anakin to have the hangar personnel ready the Kage, his ship. Then he made a call to Coruscant's planetary air and orbital traffic control. A hefty amount of credits later, covertly transferred to the right people, Kenshin had access to the entire system.
With the combined computing power of R2-D2 and Roku, Kenshin scanned all outgoing traffic from the planet since the moment of Padmé's disappearance. He knew the chances of pinpointing the ship that had abducted Senator Amidala were slim to none, but he had to try. He instructed the droids to search for any ships tied to organizations like the Trade Federation, the Banking Clan, or Kamino, hoping to uncover an irregularity.
A tense minute passed. Then ten. Then fifteen. Anakin fidgeted anxiously, his nerves fraying with each passing second.
Finally, Roku beeped, breaking the silence and startling both Jedi.
"Look!" Kenshin said.
"Look!" Kenshin said, pointing to the screen.
Highlighted from a web of trajectory records was a small transport, registered for a route to Kamino with seemingly mundane cargo. But Kenshin suspected the cargo manifest had been faked. Roku had already calculated a continuation from the ship's last known position, indicating it was headed toward the Rishi Maze. Kenshin pulled up a star map, revealing the calculated destination—uncharted, unknown.
There wasn't much to discuss. Moments later, the Kage blasted out of the Temple hangar, both Jedi on board. Neither was concerned about the mission being unauthorized. At the coordinates their target was headed to, they found no ship—only an ancient, abandoned-looking space station drifting in the void.
Kenshin activated the Kage's stealth systems, rendering them nearly invisible. "Better we go in quietly," he murmured, his tone laced with caution.
He piloted the Kage in a slow, deliberate circle around the derelict space station. The structure appeared ancient, its exterior scarred and battered, with no signs of life or activity. It looked like a ghost, a ruin lost to time.
"Master, do we have a way to scan for life forms?" Anakin asked, his voice low.
"Already on it," Kenshin replied, focusing on the instruments.
The scanner pulsed, revealing five life forms. And then, at last, they located a ship—the small cargo freighter Kenshin had tracked earlier.
They guided the Kage to a nearby hangar, landing the ship with practiced precision. Kenshin and Anakin disembarked, their senses on high alert, following the directions provided by R2 and Roku toward the life forms.
As they approached a heavy door, Kenshin exchanged a wary glance with Anakin. To their surprise, the door slid open without resistance, revealing a chilling sight beyond.
Padmé was strapped to a torture device, her body limp, her eyes filled with a mix of shock and relief as they locked onto Anakin.
"Ani?" she gasped, her voice trembling. "Oh my, am I glad to see you!"
Anakin's heart twisted at the sight of her. He rushed to her side, his hands trembling as he worked to free her from the cruel restraints. "Where are the people who captured you? Are you okay? Were you tortured?"
The answer was written in the bruises on her skin, the weariness in her eyes. "They left mere instants before you arrived. They… they were trying to force me to vote for the bill. They threatened to kill you, and my whole family, and…" Her voice broke, and the rest of her words dissolved into sobs. To see someone like Padmé brought to tears like this… Anakin couldn't bear to think of the horrors she had endured. A storm of rage brewed within him, threatening to consume him.
"Something's not right," Kenshin said, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the room. Finding Padmé had been far too easy. This was a trap—he could feel it.
"That's one way to put it, Master!" Anakin shot back, his voice edged with fury. "Look what they've done to her!"
"That's not what I mean," Kenshin replied, his tone grave. "There's no one defending this place? No resistance? And we've been here for less than five minutes, but the temperature in here has risen—significantly. I'd love to know what's going on."
As if in response, R2-D2 rolled back into the room, his beeping frantic and insistent.
"Calm down, Artoo! They've what?" Anakin asked, his eyes widening in alarm as he translated the droid's beeps.
"They've corrupted the station's reactor core!" Kenshin echoed, his voice tight with urgency.
"What does that mean?" Padmé asked, fear creeping into her voice.
"The station is about to explode!" Anakin explained, his mind racing as he tried to process the information.
Both astromechs beeped in unison, their alarms underscoring the gravity of the situation.
"How much time do we have?" Kenshin inquired. R2's analysis was grim—two minutes, maybe less.
"Not enough," the Jedi master muttered, his mind calculating the odds. "Even if we make it to the ship, the blast will destroy it before we can jump to hyperspace."
A heavy silence fell over them. Thoughts raced through Anakin's mind at a million parsecs an hour. He had to find a way, and fast.
"Unless someone contains the blast," Kenshin said calmly, almost resigned.
Anakin felt a jolt of horror as realization dawned on him. "But… you're saying… No, Master! I'll stay, and you go!"
"You, Anakin, have a war to end, and you, Padmé, a Republic to save!" Kenshin's tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.
"There has to be another way!" Anakin cried out, reaching deep into the Force, trying to slow time, to see another path, another solution that might save them all.
But the Force offered no alternatives, only this one terrible outcome. He met his Master's gaze. There was no fear in Kenshin's eyes—only determination. He knew he was about to die and had made peace with it.
"You've become my brother. My friend. Thank you for walking the last part of my path with me. Go now. You will save the galaxy; I know you will. Just always remember to believe in yourself."
With those final words, Kenshin turned away and raced toward the reactor core, leaving no room for hesitation. There was no time to waste.
His mind, his heart, his entire body felt ablaze, ready to explode like the dying space station. The Kage's engines pushed away into free space, giving all they had. Anakin wanted to yell and scream until his voice gave out. But he didn't—for Padmé's sake.
She was now the only person in the galaxy for him. She was now everything he had.
Everything.
His mother had been ripped from him, and now Kenshin too. He had promised his mother he would never fail again, and here he was.
Failure. That's all I am. That's all I do—fail.
The first Padawan in the history of the Jedi Order to get two Masters killed, he thought bitterly. What a glorious way to stand out.
I should have been the one to stay. I should have died, not him.
At last, the small ship's hyperdrive was charged, and they made the jump.
What would he tell the Council? Two Jedi had set out on an unauthorized mission, and only one was coming back. They had saved one of the galaxy's most important senators. Why even bother asking himself these questions? Padmé was safe—a last beacon of light, love, and hope in his cruel existence.
Anakin reached out with his feelings, into the Force once again. He hadn't felt his Master's death. Kenshin had always concealed his presence in the Force. Despair washed over him in bitter waves. No matter how dire the situation, Anakin had always found a way. He always had. But not this time. Kenshin was gone.
Blue streaks flew past the cockpit as the rest of the corrupted space station finally blew apart, debris blasting radially into space, some of it still glowing from the heat.
Never had he felt a strain like this, and if he had the energy to spare, he would have screamed in pain. Kenshin didn't know how much longer he could hold the reactor core from collapsing and exploding. What he did know was exactly how long the Kage's hyperdrive took to charge—five seconds. From where they had set off, it would take Anakin and Padmé about two minutes to board the ship and launch. Not more. A remote monitor device on his wrist cuff told him the ship had launched. Five seconds. He held on for ten, just to be sure. Maybe he could still make it. He had spotted an escape pod in the next hallway. Maybe it was still functional. Ten more seconds. He let go and ran. The hatch flipped open, and he jumped inside. He pressed the button. At last, the reactor core exploded. Kenshin felt the pressure wave hit the pod, accelerating it. Then, everything went black.