Author's note: this chapter has been edited to erase grammar and spelling mistakes

Answers to reviews

Thank you to everyone who left a review! I apologize again for the long wait. I'm doing the best I can but I really struggle with the time schedule of grad school.

Chapter 24 contains references to the "Shatterpoint" novel (it's a great read!) and Season 5 of TCW. I hope I managed to provide enough context for those who didn't read respectively watch those.

Will Anakin believe Kenshin when he reveals what he has found out? One of Anakin's greatest qualities – and weaknesses – is his loyalty to the ones close to him. And who can blame him? Who would want to believe it when being told that a father figure, having stood out as one of the few positive aspects of your entire life, might be a traitor and manipulator, acting against you?

Dear Guest, you gave me a few interesting ideas, thank you very much!

I can promise Nari will make an appearance again in later chapters, getting her own lightsaber, in a way I hope you will like, although it might surprise you.

Again, you bring up some interesting comparisons and points about lightsaber combat, especially discussing Obi-Wan and Kenshin. I can say that much that Kenshin has a lot of respect for Obi-Wan. A lot more than he has for most other Jedi. Obi-Wan developed his skills impressively over the course of the Clone Wars. Obi-Wan is not only able but also willing to learn from his mistakes, which is an admirable trait. However, Obi-Wan being the picture-perfect Jedi, and Kenshin being somewhat the equivalent of a rogue samurai, identifying himself as a warrior, we're dealing with two fundamentally different schools of thought. The composure and discipline of the light side can be extremely powerful, and Obi-Wan takes this to perfection when he duels Anakin/Vader in Canon. In terms of strength in the Force, I'm not sure if Obi-Wan or Kenshin are stronger. There's this particularity that gives Kenshin an edge over followers of the light side – he can fully commit to the dark side. He also has an edge over adepts of the Sith belief system – he lacks the greed that often blinds the Sith. I admit, it is a bit of a paradox. As a human, Kenshin is often seen impulsive, passionate and irritable while as a duelist, he is eerily cold-blooded and controlled. Sometimes however, we do see extreme opposites within the same person, both in literature and in real life. If we look at the battle mindset once more, I think it was Musashi Miyamoto who said "To win any battle, you must fight as if you're already dead". From my own experience, I can tell you this is true. I have always aspired to adopt this philosophy for exams and competitions, and for one event a few weeks ago, I succeeded for the first time. Letting go what you want the most - it is incredibly difficult. Something that means the world to me was at stake at this event, and yet, when I entered it, I had carefully prepared myself to accept every outcome, even defeat. It was the best fight of my life so far. And this is what Kenshin does in battle – he is ready to face everything, he truly fights as if he were already dead. There lies a great power in this philosophy.

We could go on and discuss the different lightsaber forms. Soresu as a defensive style, and Kenshin's Kage no ryu, a very controlled but utterly offensive style, both mastered to perfection on their respective end. Obi-Wan fights to preserve. Kenshin fights to kill and win. It's the difference in philosophy again. I think that Obi-Wan, by the end of the Clone Wars, is an extremely powerful duelist. I would still imagine he could not defeat Kenshin, who possesses a superior skillset and masters an extreme cold-bloodedness in battle, the fine line of using the dark side to fuel one's power, without being compromised by its greed.

~ 24 ~

Ignition

- The blade of betrayal is the sharpest of weapons -

Anakin's eyes went wide and glossy, his entire body freezing as he tried to comprehend the words spoken to him.

"What did you just say? How? None of what you're saying makes any sense!" Anakin's voice wavered between disbelief and confusion.

Kenshin exhaled slowly. "I found this amulet attached to your mother's clothing. It's a Sith artifact, designed to allow its creator to manipulate the Force from a great distance. I spent weeks scouring the archives before I even found a record of this kind of ritual. The process is extraordinarily rare and complex, dating back millennia, even before the time of Darth Bane and Darth Zannah. Only an exceptionally powerful Force user, one deeply versed in Sith magic, could create such an artifact and perform the ritual. The amulet itself is recent. I had its age determined by a material analysis. Everything suggests it was crafted specifically for this purpose: to help murder your mother."

A shiver ran down Anakin's spine, swiftly followed by a wave of intense heat. Emotions collided within him—loss, anger, helplessness, confusion. His feet fidgeted, and he clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He glared first at the tips of his boots, then back at Kenshin, his eyes blazing with fury and desperation.

"I've done everything in my power to trace the origins of this scheme," Kenshin continued. "The only lead I found points to Serenno."

"Dooku? You think the Separatists are behind this? But why my mother? She was just a slave—a simple farmer's wife. Who would have taken notice of her, let alone cared enough to kill her?"

"Given the complexity of the plot and the sheer power required for this ritual, it was someone profoundly strong in the dark side, with access to extensive resources," Kenshin explained, his tone grave.

"That still doesn't explain why Dooku would go to such lengths to kill someone like her."

"At first glance, she appears insignificant in the grand scheme. Her death would affect no one but her family—specifically, her only son. If my instincts are right, their true target was you. Someone murdered your mother to hurt, weaken, or manipulate you. Who would have a motive to strike at the Chosen One, the Jedi's prodigy?"

Anakin's mind whirled in confusion, the room around him spinning.

"How did Dooku even learn of my mother's existence?" he demanded.

"Espionage is an ancient art, one that our enemies master as well as we do. Who did you tell about her?"

Anakin paused, thinking carefully.

"Obi-Wan knew. And Padmé. Other than them…I only ever spoke about her with Chancellor Palpatine. He was the only one who would listen. The Jedi don't care about feelings, especially not mine."

Kenshin answered with grave silence, his dark eyes glowering.

"Well, that doesn't help much," Anakin muttered, frustration lacing his words. "None of them would have wanted my mother dead. However Dooku found out, it must have been him. We've been trying to capture him since the war began. Maybe if the Council gave me this mission—if anyone trusted me for once!" Anakin's voice rose as anger began to take hold.

"I believe this threat goes far deeper than Dooku. For all his power, Dooku is only an apprentice. When I tried to Force-heal your mother, I sensed a presence in the Force—the most evil, terrifying, and unfathomable thing I've ever encountered. Not even on Dromund Kaas did I encounter horrors of this magnitude. I couldn't comprehend it then, and I still can't fully grasp it now. I'm not a healer, so when I use Force-healing, I have to draw on my own life energy. That, I can control. I could have saved your mother. It would have killed me, but I had nearly brought her back when my connection to her was violently severed."

"You never told me that before," Anakin whispered, his voice tinged with shock.

"How could I have told you something I couldn't even understand myself?" Kenshin replied, his voice strained.

"And what are you trying to tell me now? Other than giving me more to worry about when I'm already overwhelmed?" Anakin blurted out, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

"Let me lay it out for you," Kenshin said, his tone measured and deliberate. "I believe the presence I sensed was Sidious himself. Only the dark lord of the Sith could wield such power and skill to conduct this ritual, ensuring your mother's death. I sensed that same presence when I fought Dooku on Geonosis. A Master always leaves an imprint on the apprentice, and Sidious is Dooku's Sith Master. The third time I felt that presence was during a Senate session, when Palpatine was speaking."

Anakin's face drained of color, a cold dread settling in his chest.

"If Darth Sidious is influencing the Senate, we must inform the Council!" he exclaimed.

"Don't you believe I didn't already try? Kenshin replied, a bitter edge to his voice. "Yoda dismissed my concerns, saying if Sidious had such influence, the Council would be aware. Not even Obi-Wan believed me! And Windu, , this bastard with a shit-coloured ball for a head —he accused me of being paranoid, called me an overwrought bag of nerves. He thinks I've spent too much time in the shadows, that I'm lost in the schemes of the underworld. But it's him who's blinded by the light!"

A mug on the table suddenly flew across the room, shattering against the wall, the untouched tea now trickling down the wall. Clenching both hands to fists, Kenshin inhaled deeply, before regaining a semblance of control.

"What we do know is that only the Jedi Council, Padmé, and Palpatine knew about your mother. Yet somehow, this information reached Darth Sidious. I trust Padmé; she would never betray you. The Council—well, I have my doubts about them, but I don't believe they would have leaked this information. That leaves us with one person."

"What are you insinuating, Kenshin?" Anakin demanded, his voice tense.

"I'm not insinuating anything. I'm telling you what I know. You need to be careful who you trust, Anakin."

"What's your problem with the Chancellor? Why do you hate him? He's been my mentor, the closest thing to a father I've ever had. Without him, the Republic would have fallen long ago. He's—"

"He's a politician with an agenda, and if you'd open your eyes, you'd see that his actions don't match his words. If you won't listen to me, ask your senator girlfriend. She'll tell you everything you need to know!"

Anakin's heart clenched. Wife, not girlfriend, he mentally corrected. He had never told Kenshin about the secret he held so dear—his marriage to Padmé.

He opened his mouth to speak, to confess something that had been haunting him for some time. He had had a dream—a nightmare, really—that had scared him deeply. It had been so similar to the dreams he had about his mother before her death. He hadn't told anyone about it.

Kenshin is my friend. I can trust him.

But doubt gnawed at him.

Can I, really? He's wrong about the Chancellor, and he's wrong to talk this way.

"What has Palpatine done to end the war? What has he done to curb the corruption in the Senate? Does he truly have the Republic's best interests at heart, or is he more concerned with his own power? You're intelligent, Anakin. You're a Jedi General. It's about time you use that brain of yours. Do some thinking for yourself instead of blindly trusting the lies or half-truths someone else feeds you. You need to question everything, even those you think you trust. Be careful with Palpatine."

"Why are you trying to turn me against him? He's my friend. My only confidant, it seems."

"You're right to question me, Anakin," Kenshin said, his tone softening. "Ask yourself what my agenda is. You'll find I have no reason to turn you against Palpatine. My only goal is to uncover the truth, to hunt down Sidious. I'm sharing what I know with you because you deserve to know the truth—as much of it as we have, at least."

Once Anakin had left, Kenshin stood in the silent room, glowering at the door for what felt like an eternity. The young Jedi was stubborn—infuriatingly so. As the night fell and the bustling activity of the temple quieted down, Kenshin found himself wandering back to the archives.

The vault door closed with a quiet click behind him. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself, the cold of the chamber seeping into his bones. His body, battered and worn from years of injuries and strain, didn't handle the cold well anymore.

His fingertips danced over the control panels, accessing data so classified that only High Council members were supposed to see it. Council members and those who knew how to bypass the algorithm.

Kenshin had chosen the path of a Jedi Shadow, dedicating his life to the destruction of the Sith. There was little he didn't know about the ancient dark side rituals, yet it had taken him countless hours of research to uncover the secrets of the artifact used in Shmi Skywalker's death.

His digging revealed nothing new. The Jedi Order had turned a blind eye to the origins of the Clone Army and the growing evidence of Sidious' influence over the Senate. No new investigations, no updated intelligence, not even at the most confidential levels. The Jedi were willfully ignoring the Republic's leadership.

Frustrated, he returned the Sith amulet to its place in the archives.

Another artifact caught his eye—a strange one he had unearthed on his homeworld years ago. It was broken into two pieces, and the prophecy accompanying his Master's notes spoke of a great danger. He hadn't had time to continue his research, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something crucial. Was there a connection between the war, the Sith's tightening grip on the galaxy, and this artifact?

Back in his quarters, Kenshin managed only a couple of hours of sleep before he was jolted awake by the dim light of his alarm clock. His spirit, however, remained in darkness. Physically, he felt drained and cold. His mind was still clouded by the same dark, nebulous presence that had been haunting him for too long now. It was a dark, nebulous embrace of a phantom menace with no form and no name, that always ate away at his heart and soul and blackened every half-conscious thought until he was fully awake. Sometimes its dark tendrils even gripped at him in his waking hours and then he fought to get back in control of his mind.

These feelings were becoming more frequent. He could tell when the darkness took hold, when it clouded his mind. He could still recognize it as a twisted malfunction of his brain, separate from reality. He could still function, still pursue his purpose. But it hurt, far more than the physical injuries he had sustained over the years. It terrified him, this sense of detachment—not the kind of detachment the Jedi preached, but something far more sinister. It felt like a filter between himself and his own body, as if another entity had taken control, and he had to wrestle it back.

The darkness was spreading, and Kenshin wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it at bay.

***** Cato Neimoidia, a few months later

Anakin rubbed his head, a dull pain pulsing through his skull as he tried to shake off the disorientation. Slowly, the blurry blue-white shape before his eyes sharpened, resolving into the familiar form of a young Togruta with concerned eyes.

"Hold on… Wasn't I flying? Where's my fighter? How did I get here?" His voice was raspy, laden with confusion.

"Fighter crashed. I saved the day. You're welcome!" Ahsoka's concern melted into a cocky grin.

In the aftermath of Nute Gunray's assassination, the political fallout had been severe, but Palpatine, with his habitual diplomatic finesse, had managed to smooth things over. Cato Neimoidia now fell under particular Republic protection, which was how Anakin and his 501st found themselves in the thick of battle, fending off a Separatist invasion. The last thing he remembered was the sight of buzz droids swarming over his fighter, before everything went black—only to wake up now to Ahsoka's triumphant smile and a throbbing headache.

Their extraction was hastily arranged by Rex, but before they could even catch their breath, a call came through from Yoda, his voice crackling with urgency.

"There has been a bombing at the temple," Yoda's voice echoed through the comm, heavy with gravity. "Your assistance to find the terrorist, we need."

Anakin frowned, his mind still reeling from the crash. "What about Master Kano? Isn't he better suited for that task?"

"On a covert mission, he is. Join you, he cannot."

Little did Ahsoka know that this mission would soon turn her world upside down.

Coruscant greeted them with chaos. The city, always bustling, was now a frenzy of protests, as voices rose against the war and the Jedi's role as military leaders. The Jedi Temple, usually a symbol of peace and serenity, was now at the epicenter of turmoil. Smoke still billowed from one of the hangars, where once pristine, light-colored walls were now blackened with soot and debris. The haunting image was burned into Anakin's mind as he and Ahsoka began their investigation—a process that turned out to be painstakingly slow and frustratingly unclear.

At first, there was no trace of bomb residue, yet the destruction was undeniable. After an exhaustive search, an investigation droid finally found nanodroid explosives in the blood of a dead hangar worker—what little remained of him, anyway. All that was left was a severed hand with a short stub of his forearm, a grim reminder of the blast's ferocity. The trail eventually led them to the worker's wife, Letta Turmond, who they promptly arrested.

Once imprisoned, Letta seemed terrified, refusing to speak to anyone but Ahsoka. Despite the horror of the situation, Ahsoka did her best to comfort the woman, assuring her that she was safe. Letta finally confessed that she had been set up by a Jedi who wanted to make a statement against the Order, painting them as warmongers. As Ahsoka carefully coaxed her to reveal the name of this Jedi, Letta's eyes suddenly bulged. Before she could utter another word, she was lifted into the air, clutching her throat as she struggled to breathe. Ahsoka watched in horror, helpless to save her, as Letta choked to death.

Alarmed by the security cameras, Clone troopers rushed to Letta's cell and the door burst open. Admiral Tarkin's cruelly cold eyes and the Clone troopers saw - or chose to see - a compromising picture.

The scene was damning—Letta dead at her feet, Ahsoka's hands outstretched, her expression one of shock and desperation. Tarkin wasted no time in accusing Ahsoka of murder, having her arrested on the spot. They threw her into the very cell where Letta had died, forcing her to sit with the corpse for hours before it was finally removed. Anakin, desperate to reach his Padawan, found himself stonewalled by orders from the Chancellor's office – but Ahsoka didn't know that. She felt abandoned.

Then, a key card appeared in her cell, seemingly by magic. Assuming it was Anakin's doing, trying to help her escape and track down the real culprit, Ahsoka fled—only to stumble into a nightmare. Dead clones littered the floor, their bodies slashed by lightsabers. Her lightsabers. Panic surged through her as she realized someone was framing her, turning her into the prime suspect in not only the temple bombing but also the massacre of these troopers.

No one safe for Anakin would believe her, she had to get out of here.

Following a wild batha chase across and through half of Coruscant, desperation clawed at Anakin's chest as he watched her leap into the depths of Coruscant's lower levels, vanishing from sight. His heart ached with the knowledge that she was now a fugitive, hunted by the very people she had once fought alongside. He did understand her, too – both her and him were aware that no one would stand by her, nor believe her. No one but him. And no one would help him either. He had to find her. He also had to find the true mastermind behind the temple bombing and this ensuing scheme. He had to find a solution to this, and fast. He needed help. Palpatine? Palpatine had to stand in for the interests of the Republic, and he'd have to convince him of Ahsoka's innocence first. No, Palpatine wouldn't be able to help him now. He sent a message to the only person he hoped he could trust.

****Republic intelligence base quarters, Saleucami

The Republic intelligence officer for the Saleucami sector prided himself on his ability to handle difficult agents, but this was something else entirely. Known only by his code name, "Demon," the Jedi who had stormed out of his briefing was the bane of his existence. The officer had dealt with his fair share of awkward and strange personalities. Bothan spies, notably —cagey, untrustworthy, and always playing their own game—but this man? He was nothing but a deranged maniac, utterly uncooperative, and with no respect for authority. He already hated having to deal with Jedi agents - they were ethereal mystics at best. As for this one, there was nothing ethereal about him.

It didn't help that the Demon's reputation was nothing short of terrifying. Choosing a code name like that for himself spoke volumes about his character. Ingeniously capable he might be, the officer had hated him from the start, resenting the way the Jedi refused to follow orders, the way he turned every operation into his own personal mission. And now, to walk out mid-briefing without so much as a word? It was the last straw.

The officer filed a formal complaint, knowing it would likely go nowhere, but needing to vent his frustration anyway. The man was impossible to control, a loose cannon in every sense of the word. As he sat fuming, the Demon was already gone, the faint beep of a hidden comm device prompting his abrupt departure.

The next thing he knew, the Demon had taken off in a ship, powered by hyperdrive engines that were most certainly illegal and tuned beyond reason. And where was he headed? To Coruscant, of all places, to deal with some nonsense that had nothing to do with the mission at hand.

When Anakin saw his former mentor stride into the briefing room on Coruscant, relief washed over him. Kenshin's familiar grumpy expression was a welcome sight in the sea of chaos and uncertainty. If anyone could help him unravel the twisted plot framing Ahsoka, it was him.

**** Coruscant, Jedi Temple, One of the many briefing rooms

"You got my message," Anakin greeted him, his voice tight with a mix of relief and tension.

"Looks like it," Kenshin replied dryly, his tone as sharp as a blade. He wasted no time, his expression set in a grim mask as he awaited further details.

With only a few minutes before the briefing began, Anakin quickly updated Kenshin on the recent developments. The words tumbled out, each one carrying the weight of the crisis.

"This doesn't make sense!" Kenshin shook his head. "It's as clear as the waters of Naboo, that Ahsoka had no way of committing this act. She was with you on Cato Neimoidia all this time, when and how would she have fed nanodroids to that mechanic here on Coruscant? Theoretically, she could have arranged for a middle person to do that for her, but seriously? That is very far fetched."

Sedition. Tarkin's voice had been firm, accusing Ahsoka without hesitation, casting her as the only possible culprit. Mace Windu had quickly moved to remove Anakin from the investigation, arguing that his emotional attachment compromised his judgment. Kenshin had remained silent during the tense discussion, knowing that his involvement would only escalate the already heated debate. Only Obi-Wan had defended Anakin's position, but it was clear—painfully clear—that no one in the Council truly trusted him, nor believed in Ahsoka. They were so ready to dismiss one of their own, who had always ever been devoted to their cause, it made Kenshin physically sick with revulsion.

As the meeting concluded, Kenshin turned to leave, his mind already working through the tangled web of deceit. Another Jedi who had attended the briefing separated herself from the group and followed him in silence, until they were out of earshot of a few Council members who still remained outside the briefing room to discuss.

"My former Master has always had an overly strong sense of law and order," she remarked as they walked, her voice calm and measured.

Kenshin paused, his instincts on alert. The woman exuded a quiet strength, her appearance distinguished by the golden implants on her face—Chalactan marks of illumination. He recognized her as Depa Billaba, Mace Windu's former Padawan, though they had never spoken before.

"That's one way to say he's a complete idiot," Kenshin replied bluntly.

Billaba smiled, undeterred by his harsh words. "I must say, I find your honesty refreshing, Master Kano."

"Good for you. Now, what do you want?"

Billaba's smile softened, her gaze steady. "I've always been good at reading others' thoughts and feelings, yet I've never been able to read yours."

"Get to the point," Kenshin snapped. "I have a job to do and not much time."

"Mace is so obsessed with law and order that, despite his infamous shatterpoint ability, there are many things he doesn't see," Billaba continued, her tone growing more serious.

"He's a Jedi. I'm a warrior. And that's where the differences—and his blindness—begin," Kenshin retorted.

"I know," Billaba agreed. "But you must be careful, Kano. Your abilities have made you too valuable an asset to the Council, but their stance is shifting. Many, including Mace, believe you've drifted too far down a dark path—a path a Jedi mustn't walk. There are voices deeming you unfit for service, or even a threat. They're considering ways to remove you."

Kenshin's eyes narrowed, his expression cold. "Windu says I have no honor. I say he's a slave to it. You're not telling me anything new."

Billaba sighed, her gaze compassionate. "I imagined you were aware of the situation. I came to say that you're right in questioning the Council and our ways that have led us down the wrong path. I, too, have been thrown into darkness, into the ugly, cruel reality of war. I was sent on a disastrous mission to Haruun Kal, Mace's homeworld. I saw things I was not meant to see. I, too, began to question our ways, our view of the Force, and for that, I was shunned. It was a painful awakening. As you've realized, the Council is blind to many truths, truths you've tried to make them see but they refuse to acknowledge. The world is evolving, and the Jedi are not evolving with it. They fear you because nothing is more dangerous than a Jedi who's finally sane. Keep believing in yourself, Master Kano. Keep fighting for the truth. I sense you have a good heart, beneath that mask of a heartless brute you project to the world. Stay true to yourself."

Kenshin's eyes welled with unexpected tears, his face growing pale as he stared at her.

"What is it?" Billaba asked, concern lacing her voice. Had she gone too far? Misjudged him? Revealed too much?

"Nothing…you…you remind me of someone. Someone I lost and could not save," Kenshin murmured, his voice raw with emotion.

Billaba reached out, offering a hand in consolation, but like a ghost, Kenshin was suddenly gone.

**** Coruscant Underworld, Level 1312, a Few Hours Later

The young Togruta retreated into a dark, lonely corner, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. How long had she been running? Her limbs were heavy with exhaustion, her mind racing with fear and confusion.

Suddenly, a hand clamped over her mouth, and a strong arm pulled her deeper into the shadows. She kicked and struggled, panic surging through her veins, but her assailant was too strong. He spun her around, and she found herself staring into a pair of dark, intense eyes. The rest of his face was hidden beneath a hood and mask, but she recognized him instantly.

He motioned for her to stay silent and handed her a voluminous cloak and a mask. With a quick signal, he urged her to follow him.

Ahsoka hesitated, but with no other options, she decided to trust him. They descended several levels deeper into Coruscant's underworld, twisting and turning through a labyrinth of alleys and tunnels. Finally, they arrived at a dingy entrance marked by a half-lit sign that flickered with erratic sparks, spelling out "The Last Drop." It was the shadiest cantina she had ever seen, the air thick with the stench of unwashed bodies and stale alcohol.

Inside, Kenshin made his way to the bar, where a tall, burly man—presumably the owner—greeted him with a wide, toothy grin. The man was human, but with wild hair and a beard so thick and unruly that he could have passed for a Wookiee in the right light.

"Kashi! Long time, no see!" The man jumped over the counter and enveloped Kenshin in a bear hug.

"Good to see you too, old friend," Kenshin replied, his tone unusually warm. "I need a favor."

The man's eyes flicked to Ahsoka, who was trying her best to remain inconspicuous. "Ah, I see. She needs a place to lay low?"

"Yes. This is Ashla," Kenshin said, placing a handful of credits on the bar. "This should cover it for now. You can put the rest on my tab."

"Of course, come on," the man said, leading them to a small, dimly lit room in the back. "I'll bring you some food in a bit. Get comfortable."

As soon as the tavern keeper was gone, Ahsoka couldn't hold back her questions any longer. "Who is that? What is this place? How did you even find me?"

Kenshin raised a hand to silence her. "First things first: NOT a word to anyone about who we really are. The word 'Jedi' does not exist here. Understood?"

Ahsoka nodded, bewildered and overwhelmed.

"Good," Kenshin continued. "Ahsoka, you were about as good at hiding your presence as a holonet broadcaster. I would have thought Anakin taught you better. Balu, the man who welcomed us, is an old contact of mine. A friend, even, though he doesn't know my real identity. To him, I'm Kashi, a smuggler and artifact dealer. Whatever his suppliers—myself included—find, he sells to art dealers in the upper levels, where the rich and clueless pay a fortune for worthless trinkets. A few years back, when he was still prospecting himself, he got into a tricky situation. I happened to be in the right place at the right time and saved his life. We became friends, and he helps me out now and then. I kept using 'Kashi the smuggler' as a cover. It gets me into places to dig around without anyone in the underworld batting an eye, and it also provides me with a few untraceable credits."

Ahsoka's face twisted in disapproval.

"What's the harm?" Kenshin shrugged. "Those people here scam the credits off those who have too much of it anyway and put it to much better use. I help them, they help me. That's how it works, whether it's the underworld or the upper echelons of corrupt politics. The difference is, most of these gangsters are more honest than some revered members of the Senate. As for this place, it's Balu's tavern, and it's a safe place. He won't ask any questions. You're safe here for now. In this room, you'll find a change of clothes. They're my size, but you'll manage. There's also makeup to cover or alter your markings. I've left some rations and credits as well. If you give me a few days, I can get you a new identichip. Until then, I suggest you lay low."

"But…is any of this…legal?" Ahsoka stammered, the weight of her situation pressing down on her.

"Legal?" Kenshin snorted. "Of course not. The Jedi Council has no knowledge of this place or my activities related to it."

"But…we can't just…"

"Yes, Ahsoka, we can. There's no point in sticking to the rules of an organization that has forsaken you."

"But…" Ahsoka's voice wavered as memories of Anakin, her training, and the teachings of the Jedi flooded her mind. She had sworn her loyalty to the Order, to their Code.

"Listen," Kenshin's voice softened, though his words remained firm. "I know the Jedi Order has been your life, but right now, they're hunting you as a terrorist. Alone, you won't stand a chance to prove your innocence, and Anakin isn't looking in the right places. Stay in hiding and let me do my job. I will find out who was really behind this."

At last, the weight of it all broke through her defenses, and tears rolled down her face. Through the blur of her tears, she asked, "Why are you helping me?"

Kenshin sighed, a hint of weariness in his eyes. "I know you didn't do this. You're another victim of the Council's stupidity and blind idealism, and I'm not gonna let you take the fall."

Far from the shady cantina in the lower levels, in the heart of the Jedi Temple, a young Jedi Knight paced the floor of his quarters. His boots kicked aside discarded droid parts and tools strewn carelessly on the floor. His wayward Padawan had still not been found. The criminal behind the attack on the temple remained elusive, despite the best investigator he knew now working on the case. As grateful as he was that Kenshin had dropped everything to come and help, Anakin was frustrated by the lack of progress. It had been days! The waiting was driving him mad.

Just like her Master, Ahsoka couldn't sit still. She had never been one to wait passively for things to happen. Kenshin's advice to lay low had lasted only a day before the restlessness gnawed at her, pushing her to action. She ventured out, driven by the need to clear her name, but nearly got caught on a public transport. Luck had not been on her side, and she was captured by Asajj Ventress, the former Sith apprentice turned bounty hunter.

Ventress, ever the opportunist, had hoped to claim whatever bounty was on Ahsoka's head. But Ahsoka, quick-witted even under pressure, proposed a different deal—a possible pardon for Ventress's crimes if she helped Ahsoka find the real culprit. Ventress, intrigued by the offer, agreed, and with her help, Ahsoka managed to contact a friend at the temple, Barriss Offee.

Barriss claimed to have found a lead and directed them to an abandoned warehouse. Ventress took her there, but the alliance was brief, and the two parted ways soon after.

The lower levels of Coruscant were bathed in the dim glow of sporadic fire pans, casting long shadows across the filth-strewn streets. But those shadows concealed more than just rats and stray tookas. Danger lurked in every corner.

Shortly after parting from Ventress, Ahsoka found herself ambushed by a slender figure wielding twin red lightsabers. The attack was swift and brutal, leaving her overwhelmed and defenseless. When Clone troopers arrived and stunned her, she was lying next to a box of nanodroid explosives, a damning piece of evidence that all but sealed her fate.

In the briefing that followed Ahsoka's capture, Tarkin voiced the Senate's distrust in the Jedi's judgment, demanding that Ahsoka be expelled from the Order and tried in a Republic military tribunal. The internal session in the chamber of judgment was less a trial and more a crucifixion.

Kenshin wasn't allowed inside, but he could feel the tension, the fear that hung thick in the air. The Council members were afraid—afraid to oppose the Senate, afraid to stand up for one of their own.

The Senate bankrolls the Jedi. You don't care whether Ahsoka is guilty or not—you only care about saving face, about finding a scapegoat. You're no Jedi, Mace. You're a gutless piece of filth.

The blade of betrayal is the sharpest of weapons. And even those who wield it get cut. Don't you know that, Mace?

Kenshin knew he had to act fast. Time was running out for Ahsoka, and the real perpetrator was still out there, hidden in the shadows. If the Jedi wouldn't protect their own, then he would.

Nobody ever questioned someone in a worker's uniform, especially when they walked with purpose and carried cleaning supplies or tools. But Kenshin knew his face might be a problem. While he had never been in the spotlight as a Jedi, someone might still recognize him. He decided to cover his face, leaving only his eyes exposed. A medical mask, as if he had suffered an injury, and a hat to hide his hair, with makeup to conceal any visible scars.

He didn't know the real mastermind behind the temple bombing, but he was certain it wasn't Ahsoka, and he doubted it was Ventress. He needed more time to uncover the truth, and if he couldn't find the real culprit yet, perhaps he could create one. Blame it on someone who was already a high-level criminal—what was one more crime on their record? If the Ghost committed yet another crime, after he had already murdered Nute Gunray and most of the Trade federation's leadership, it would be easy enough to believe.

The remaining nanodroid containers in the warehouse had been conveniently forgotten after Ahsoka's capture. Kenshin prepped a few mouse droids with the explosives he had stolen from the site, programming them to target a specific location within the Senate building. He added a timed trigger, ensuring the bombs would go off exactly when and where he had planned. The explosions wouldn't cause much damage, and he had taken great care to choose a location and time when no one would be hurt. His goal was to send a message, not to kill.

One droid, programmed to arrive slightly later, carried a small holo projector that would display a holographic image—the same intertwined triangles that had been found with Nute Gunray's corpse and at other attack sites, along with the ever-familiar message demanding an end to the war.

With his work at the Senate building complete, Kenshin slipped away, the Coruscant skies already showing hues of deep pink and purple. The night was young, beautiful, and utterly indifferent to the injustice happening below.

He followed a complex, erratic route to one of his secret storage points, where he changed into a stealth suit and equipped a jetpack. His next target was the military base, where he knew exactly which window gave Admiral Tarkin a spectacular view from his bedroom.

Darkness had now fallen, the perfect cover for what he was about to do. Tarkin was sound asleep, unaware of the shadow prying open his window with silenced equipment. The admiral only woke when a blaster shot grazed his shoulder, a second shot embedding harmlessly in the wall behind his bed. Groggy and disoriented, Tarkin barely registered the shadow fleeing into the night.

The wind whipped past Kenshin's mask as he cursed under his breath. The moment he had pulled the trigger, sure of his aim, his grip had slipped, and the shot had missed. He had underestimated the night's humidity, and in his arrogance, he hadn't accounted for the Clone patrols. The moment he activated his jetpack to save himself from falling to his death, they had opened fire, and a blaster shot hit its mark, sending searing pain through his hip.

The Republic trained its men well; the pain was excruciating. Kenshin took a reckless dive to shake off any airborne pursuers, zigzagging through the lower levels until he finally reached his original hideout. There, he quickly changed out of the Ghost's gear, knowing he would have to repair it later, and inspected his wound.

The blaster bolt thankfully hadn't gone deep enough to shatter his hip bone, but had caused a deep flesh wound. A simple bacta patch wouldn't fix it, it needed medical attention. He'd have to come up with a plausible story to explain when he'd consult the temple's healers about it.

The journey back to the meager comfort of his quarters in the Jedi Temple felt long and tedious, every step a reminder of the night's failures.

The day had barely begun when a briefing was called, but by the time Kenshin arrived, the meeting was already over. Only Anakin and Obi-Wan lingered, waiting to update him on what had been decided and what tasks the spy would be assigned.

Master Kenobi's face was a mask of composure, but his frustration simmered palpably just beneath the surface. As Kenshin limped into the room, wrapped in a thick cloak, he let himself drop onto a chair like a cargo crate with its anti-grav motors giving out. Anakin's eyes narrowed as he took in Kenshin's disheveled appearance.

"What in the blazes happened to you?" Anakin asked, his tone a mix of concern and curiosity.

"Got shot at," Kenshin grunted, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

"And you didn't sense and avoid that shot?" Anakin pressed, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"I was tired," Kenshin snapped, "and I'm tired because I haven't had a single full night's sleep since I landed on this Force-forsaken shit ball of a planet. I've been busting my ass trying to find the real culprit behind the temple bombing while our idiot Council chases the wrong person." The last words were spat out with venom, directed squarely at Obi-Wan. Kenshin's eyes bore into the Jedi Master with undisguised contempt.

The last words were spat out with venom, directed squarely at Obi-Wan. Kenshin's eyes bore into the Jedi Master with undisguised contempt.

Obi-Wan's response was cool, but his patience was wearing thin. "Had you arrived on time, you'd already be aware of the latest developments and wouldn't need to make unnecessary accusations. That reminds me," Obi-Wan continued, his tone sharpening, "not only did you abandon your previous assignment without authorization, but the Council has also received a formal complaint about your actions."

Kenshin waved a dismissive hand, clearly unimpressed. "And what? What are those high and mighty nerfherders going to do about it? Throw me back in a retention cell and let me rot there? I'm in dire need of a break and some sleep; I'll take it."

"Kenshin!" Obi-Wan's voice was now edged with irritation. The Council had limited options for reining in disobedient Jedi, and Kenshin's blatant disregard for authority was pushing those limits. "May I remind you that repeated and aggravated insubordination can lead to you being expelled from the Jedi Order?"

"Go ahead," Kenshin shot back, his tone dripping with indifference. "See if you can forgo yet another agent or warrior in an army that's already understaffed."

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw, knowing Kenshin was right. The Jedi Order couldn't afford to lose someone with his skills, no matter how troublesome he was.

"Further consequences could also include facing charges from a Republic court!" Obi-Wan continued, trying to regain control of the situation.

"Whoa, calm down, both of you," Anakin interjected, trying to diffuse the escalating tension. "Kenshin, you know I agree with you, and I'm grateful you're here trying to help clear Ahsoka's name. Obi-Wan, it was me who asked him to come back. All he did was follow my plea for help."

Obi-Wan sighed, his frustration evident. "Has it ever crossed your mind, Anakin, that you should coordinate things like this with me or the Council before taking rash measures?"

Anakin shook his head slightly, and Kenshin exhaled sharply, clearly annoyed.

"This night, I was down at the site where they found the nanodroids, trying to find more clues, and as I told you, someone shot at me. I chased after them, but they got away. Still, it shows me I've hit a nerve, and the trail hasn't gone cold yet. Now, would someone tell me why we're here?"

Obi-Wan's expression shifted, becoming more somber. "Someone attacked Grand-Admiral Tarkin in his quarters around midnight. They also tried to blow up the Senate building, but it looks like the explosion was carefully calculated to serve as a warning rather than to actually destroy anything. And guess what kind of explosives were used—nanodroids. We think it was the Ghost, the assassin who murdered Nute Gunray a while ago. The case was never resolved, and the assassin was never caught."

"What makes you think it was that Ghost person?" Kenshin asked, leaning forward slightly, despite his fatigue.

"A claim of responsibility was left at the scene," Obi-Wan explained. "The same symbol found with Nute Gunray's corpse was there, along with the same message demanding an end to the war. Another symbol was found in Tarkin's quarters. Thankfully, Tarkin survived the attack, but he was injured. The assailant only landed a non-fatal shot before Clone troopers intervened, and the Ghost fled, likely using a jet pack. The Clone commander reported landing a shot on the assassin, but it wasn't fatal, and they escaped."

"Security cameras?" Kenshin inquired, his voice flat

"Here's what little footage we have," Obi-Wan said, activating the holo-projector in the middle of the table.

The grainy footage showed a window in the military base's central building—presumably the window to Tarkin's personal quarters. A figure appeared, clad in a concealing garment that obscured its form. The contours were blurry, as if the assassin were wearing some kind of stealth gear. The window shattered, and the figure's hand moved to its hip, seemingly pulling and firing a small blaster. The screen briefly lit up with blaster fire, one plasma bolt grazing the figure. Then, the assassin was gone, leaving nothing but a vague silhouette behind.

"We're not dealing with a Wookiee here," Kenshin commented drily, his face unreadable.

"No, indeed not," Obi-Wan murmured, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he cast a scrutinizing look at Kenshin. Something felt off about the spy, though Obi-Wan couldn't quite place it. There was a tension in the air, an undercurrent of hostility that Kenshin wasn't bothering to hide. Their eyes met, and Kenshin held Obi-Wan's gaze with defiant intensity.

"I'll try and find this Ghost," Kenshin said, breaking the silence. "Anything else? We don't have much time until Ahsoka's trial, and whatever we find might help clear her name."

"The trial has been postponed," Obi-Wan replied. "Admiral Tarkin's injuries are slight, but the medical staff ordered a two-day recovery."

Kenshin nodded, his face still stoic. "How do we know the Ghost wasn't killed by the Clone troopers who came to Tarkin's rescue? For fuck's sake, Obi-Wan, I'll get my information, one way or another, but you can make things quicker and easier if you just tell me everything you know. Spill the beans, Kenobi. I know the Council loves keeping their agents in the dark, but that's not helping anyone. It is, in fact, quite stupid and useless."

Kenshin had spoken in a tone that left no room for misunderstanding just how much he despised the Council's current line of actions. But still, was that petty remark necessary? There is no emotion, there is peace, Obi-Wan tried to center himself. Kenshin was deliberately pushing all of his buttons and the composed Council member struggled to not let it show.

Obi-Wan felt his temper flare but forced himself to remain calm. "They didn't find a body," he said, his voice measured.

"No trace can be a trace too," Kenshin retorted. "At least you've understood that much. Let's sum it up: We have an assault on Tarkin, another bombing using the same type of explosives as the temple attack, and a suspect with an actual motive. It all points to what I've said from the beginning—Ahsoka is not guilty!"

"Hints aren't proof, Master Kano, as you should be well aware," Obi-Wan replied coolly.

"Back to formalities, are we, Kenobi? Why don't you pull out that lightsaber that's stuck up your ass!"

"Kenshin…"

"We have our culprit. It's not Ahsoka; it's this Ghost, whatever name you choose. Now let's go hunt them down."

"We can't just clear Ahsoka without solid evidence," Obi-Wan insisted.

"The Council can't…or doesn't want to?" Kenshin shot back. "From where I'm standing, they're looking for the easy way out and a scapegoat."

"We need more proof," Obi-Wan pressed. "If the Ghost is behind the temple bombing, why didn't they leave a claim of responsibility like in the other incidents?"

Kenshin's expression darkened, realizing Obi-Wan had a point. He should have thought of that. "Maybe the claim got destroyed in the explosion. There are a million possible reasons. For now, we have a lot of work to do. I'd better get to it."

Rising from his chair with a grimace, Kenshin limped toward the door, pausing only to flip Obi-Wan a middle finger. There is no emotion, there is peace Obi-Wan strained the thought, grateful for the discipline instilled by years of Jedi training.

As Kenshin left the room, Obi-Wan turned to Anakin. "Anakin, do you know why your former Master insists on acting like a misbehaved savage?"

Anakin shrugged. "I'd say he made that pretty clear."

"True," Obi-Wan admitted with a sigh. "Though I strongly disapprove of his lack of manners. Either way, I was wondering—did the Clone troopers who intervened in the attack on Tarkin specify how or where they shot the assailant?"

"No, why?" Anakin asked, curiosity piqued.

"Just a thought," Obi-Wan replied, still pondering. "If we knew more about the nature of the Ghost's injury, it might help us identify them."

Before heading off to his new assignment, Kenshin joined Anakin and Padmé to visit Ahsoka. Though she managed a grateful smile, it was clear she had lost all hope. She had only a suspicion, no proof, that the true criminal was Ventress. And if the Jedi Council had abandoned her so quickly, how could she expect the Senate court to treat her any better?

The two men split up to increase their chances of finding Asajj Ventress, their only hope to shed light on this cruel, dark mystery. It was Anakin who found her.

The former assassin claimed she had been assaulted, her two lightsabers stolen by someone she hadn't been able to identify—only that the person had to be another Jedi. "Whoever you're looking for has my lightsabers. That's how you'll know you've found the criminal."

There was something else she revealed to Skywalker. While on the run, Ahsoka had contacted the temple. Someone named Barriss, who had told her to find that odd warehouse.

Skywalker tracked down and overwhelmed Barriss Offee, bursting into Ahsoka's trial to reveal the true culprit. Offee quickly confessed her crimes and was led away to receive punishment. No one paid much attention to her final words about the Jedi losing their way and the Republic's impending fall. A grave mistake, Kenshin thought, as he watched the recording of the proceedings.

Once more, the Council assembled, with Anakin, Kenshin, and Ahsoka present. After the Council members offered their apologies, Mace Windu held his closing remarks.

"...This was actually your great trial; we can see that now," Windu concluded.

You're making this very easy for yourselves, Kenshin thought bitterly. You and the entire Council failed in every conceivable way, choosing the easy path instead of the one of truth that Jedi should walk. He remained silent.

Ahsoka cast one last, heartbreaking glance at Anakin before declining their offer to return. She walked out, leaving behind a room heavy with regret. Anakin chased after her, but everyone knew she would not come back.

Kenshin gave Anakin space, knowing that in time, he would collect a deeply hurt man. And indeed, Anakin soon appeared, seeking Kenshin's company. They found a quiet spot in the temple garden, where Kenshin had developed a habit of meditating almost daily when not on missions. It was probably his only healthy habit.

"What's with you?" the younger Jedi asked, breaking the silence.

"Ahsoka meant something to me, too. And I'm shocked by how the Council acted. They abandoned her in the very moment the accusation was made. They didn't even try."

"Yeah, that's true. I wish she hadn't left, but in the end, what choice did we give her?"

Kenshin stared into the distance, the weight of unspoken thoughts pulling at him.

"Anakin," he finally said, "has it ever crossed your mind that Chancellor Palpatine might be… not fully truthful?"

The words hit Anakin like a punch to the gut. His body stiffened, and a fiery dragon roared within him. What in the Force was Kenshin saying? He couldn't believe these words had come out of his former Master's mouth. How could he even dare to think, let alone say that?

"You cannot deny that Palpatine has been on a steady march toward more and more control over the Senate. All the amendments to the Republic's constitution. All the power he's amassing, claiming only by word that he accepts it with reluctance. Tell me, what has he truly done to stop the war?"

Anakin shot to his feet, his full, impressive height towering over Kenshin. Within an instant, the air between them crackled with dark, electric tension.

"Be careful what you're insinuating, Kenshin. The Chancellor is the Jedi's greatest friend and our first ally, and..."

"This Chancellor, my young, former apprentice, is the very man who has coerced the Jedi into a military role they were never meant to have!" Kenshin stated firmly, rising to his feet and stepping closer to Anakin, unimpressed by the younger Jedi's bold demeanor. "I would've thought I taught you to think for yourself! It seems you've failed that lesson. Think again, remember—what did he do during Ahsoka's trial? If he's so invested in your well-being and knows you so well, knowing how much Ahsoka meant to you, what did he do to help?"

"Palpatine wasn't the one making the decisions; he just did his job. It wasn't his decision to convict her. He hadn't even leveled a sentence before I brought in Barriss Offee. He's only done what was right by the Republic…"

"For the love of all that is holy, think! Doesn't it seem strange how the Chancellor of the entire Galactic Republic goes out of his way to lead a trial for a simple Jedi Padawan? People have committed crimes of even greater magnitude and are still awaiting trial, marinating in a forgotten Republic prison cell. Even for high-level military criminal cases, the Republic authorities have court judges in place. So why did Palpatine make an effort to take that position himself in Ahsoka's trial? I've investigated the respective laws and regulations, and there's none that would have required the Chancellor himself to be anywhere near that case. You know the answer, Anakin! Chosen One my ass, the only thing you're chosen for, by Palpatine, is to be his lapdog, a powerful tool to use to his ends. Even now, as you're trying to construct excuses for your high-placed friend's obscure behavior, deep down…" He leaned in, his last words a threatening whisper in Anakin's ear. "You know!"

Kenshin flipped his hood over his head, turned, and walked away, leaving a lingering sense of doom and the bitter sting of truth in his wake.

That night, Anakin Skywalker fled into the arms of his loving, caring wife but found no sleep. He didn't know whom to trust anymore. Padmé's gentle, caressing embrace was the only thing that kept him from wildly thrashing, not wanting to wake her. The tormenting thoughts raced in circles, tearing him apart. His Jedi family had forsaken Ahsoka from the start. The moment she needed their support, at the first slight inconvenience, they had cast her away. Another voice nagged at him to consider Kenshin's words. Maybe the secret agent was right? Maybe Palpatine did have sinister interests he had never considered? No, that was impossible. He knew the Chancellor, had known him since he was nine years old. Palpatine had always been good to him, the only one who had always supported him. But wasn't that exactly what was suspicious?

Kenshin always supported me, too. He would have died for me, and in a way, he did.

As he grew from Padawan to Jedi Knight, Kenshin's support often came in the form of a challenge. Challenge was uncomfortable, sometimes painful even, but it meant a chance for growth—he knew that now. His mother? Who had murdered her? Kenshin was convinced that not Dooku, but Sidious himself, was behind it. And that Sidious was somehow corrupting Palpatine. This could not be the case.

Palpatine would never betray me. There is no pressure high enough in this galaxy that Palpatine's sincerity would give in to. To the Jedi, I'm but a slave, never good enough, but Palpatine was always there for me. I'm like a son to him, he said that himself. Padmé and Palpatine are now the only people I still have left.

Anakin wasn't sure if Kenshin was still on that list. His former Master had changed into something he didn't understand, something that felt dangerous and unpredictable.

It wasn't just the physical toll that concerned him, though Kenshin's body bore the marks of countless battles. Anakin could see it in the way he moved, a slight limp that wasn't there before, the way he winced when he thought no one was looking, the haunted look in his eyes that seemed to grow more hollow each time they met. Kenshin was wounded, and not just in the way that a Jedi could heal with meditation or a session in the bacta tank. His spirit was scarred, as if he had been cut too deeply, too many times.

He didn't know how to approach him anymore. There was such an icy distance. This wild, feral Jedi had never been fond of the Council, and Anakin had often shared in that sentiment, but the way Kenshin talked now was different. There was a bitter harshness, a sharp edge to his words, like a blade honed for war. His language was more than just coarse; it was filled with venom, as if every sentence was an attack, every glance a warning. It wasn't just anger—Anakin knew that emotion well—but something darker, something twisted and broken.

Over the last few months, it had become clear that even though Kenshin was physically present, it felt as though Anakin had lost him either way. Whenever he was in Kenshin's presence, he sensed an aura of bleakness and threat hanging about him, a palpable darkness that seemed to wrap around the older Jedi like a shroud.

An annoying beep violently ripped Anakin from the haze of slumber he must have fallen into in the early hours of morning. Padmé was still asleep, while a few first, timid rays of sunshine danced over her shiny brown curls. He wanted to stay here, never to return to the harsh reality that demanded his attention. But he was being called into another Council briefing. The galaxy and the war moved on, their wheels turning at a speed too uncomfortable for his liking. Yet another crisis had erupted somewhere.

On his way to the Council chamber, a figure wrapped in a cloak appeared by his side. Wordlessly, Kenshin fell into step with him. By the looks of him, he hadn't had a great night's rest either.

"Any idea what this is about?" Anakin attempted to start a conversation. To his surprise, Kenshin responded.

"Our new deployment. Separatist invasion on Felucia. From what the documentation says, all hell broke loose in the sector. Annihilation of all our forces, violent takeover, genocide by the Separatists on several worlds in the system, the whole package. Now they'll send us in to fix it."

"Hey, I'm good at fixing things, remember?" Anakin tried a light-hearted remark.

"Yeah. It'll be like good old times," Kenshin said in a strangely friendly tone. Was his old Master being sarcastic? Or was he trying to wave a white flag, signaling they were still friends? Anakin couldn't tell.

"Only that times never were that good."

"I know. Anakin... listen. I know you didn't like what I said yesterday. And I understand. Palpatine was the first to act like a friend to you, and he's been the only constant for most of your life. But I sense that terrible things will happen, and for all his power, even Palpatine might be a victim. Or a villain who deceived everyone, including you. We don't know! You cannot trust anything or anyone, except yourself."

They had nearly reached the doors to the chamber. Kenshin stopped and placed a hand on Anakin's arm, gently pressing it. He inhaled, squeezing his eyes shut before meeting Anakin's gaze and firmly holding it.

"Anakin. I'm sorry. It's just... I'm trying to warn you of things I haven't fully unraveled myself. Nobody has; hell, the Council won't listen to most of my warnings. You are the best Jedi I ever met, the only one worth a damn in this whole bunch of blind sheep. If there was only one person in the galaxy I would trust, it would be you. I'm not your enemy. I want you to know that."

He exhaled; it had visibly cost him to get that off his chest. Anakin hadn't expected this. He was feeling all sorts of things. Palpatine is a good man, we can trust him, he wanted to say. He also wanted to tell Kenshin, You're still my brother.

But the words didn't come. The doors to the Council chamber opened, and they were called in.

It quickly became clear that the situation in the Felucia system was dire. The tension in the room rose as the discussion shifted from the Felucia crisis to the broader issues plaguing the Jedi's role in the war. Concerns were voiced about traitors within the Order, like Barriss Offee had been.

Anakin could feel the bitterness and tension rising, but what struck him most was the raw anger radiating from Kenshin. It was unusual for his former mentor to flaunt his feelings so openly, for everyone to sense.

Kenshin stared holes into the air.

"In light of recent events, we must rely even more on the loyalty of those who are still..." Master Tiin began.

Loyalty.

The word acted as a spark, a violent ignition, unleashing a firestorm. Kenshin felt something short-circuit in his brain, and the ensuing meltdown exploded with the intensity of a supernova. There was nothing he could do to stop it. He didn't even want to.

"Loyalty? LOYALTY?" he roared, his voice echoing off the walls. "Those who are loyal are treated like scum, and you still dare to speak that word? Ahsoka has risked her life for us, the Jedi Order, and the Republic a thousand times over, and the one time she needed you to believe in her and trust her, when she needed your loyalty, what did you do? You cast her away like a worthless tool that's become obsolete. You stripped her of her Jedi status so she could be judged by the Republic military court, and for what? To serve a public image that was already shattered. You cowered before the Senate, tails between your legs. YOU ARE THE TRAITORS! You and your precious Council, you're nothing but pathetic cowards!"

Mace Windu leaned forward, his eyebrows furrowing into a grave expression.

"Watch your words, Kano. I demand—"

Kenshin's wild eyes blazed with fury, and the blood vessels on his neck bulged, pulsing with rage.

"You have no right to demand anything. You are not worthy of my respect any longer. Barriss Offee was right. We have lost our way. The Jedi, the beacon of peace and justice in the galaxy? What a big, fat lie!" he spat, his voice full of acid venom." You've become obedient lapdogs, blind pawns, and tools to a corrupt, power-hungry dictator who calls himself Chancellor and who uses the word Republic but as a name for what is effectively an empire. The Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen!"

For a long, excruciating moment, the chamber fell into stunned silence. Even the most composed Council members were left speechless by Kenshin's brazen outburst.

Mace Windu rose from his chair, his full, imposing height casting a shadow over the room. He took a step, then another, planting himself directly in front of Kenshin.

"This is the last time you disrespect the Jedi Order and the High Council," he said, his voice laced with a cold, lethal edge.

"Master Kano, please calm yourself. These dark emotions are not the Jedi way," Ki-Adi-Mundi admonished.

What happened next caught everyone off guard. The Force gave no warning. Windu saw no shatterpoint, only a black void. The attack came too fast, concealed too well. The world took a sudden, jarring turn, followed by a collective gasp from the Council.

First, nothingness. Then stars swirled around Windu's head, gaining momentum and speed. He shook his head, trying to comprehend what had just happened. He found himself sprawled on the floor between Oppo Rancisis' and Ki-Adi-Mundi's chairs, blood streaming from his nose and mouth. Kenshin had landed a crushing blow to his face with all his strength.

Kenshin stood firm, feet planted wide apart, like the embodiment of a demon's wrath. Never had Mace Windu stared into such an inhuman abyss as he did now, gazing into Kano's eyes. They had changed. The eyeballs had turned black, with a demonic purple light shining from his irises. He didn't draw the fixed blade at his side or his lightsaber. He simply directed his eerie gaze at Ki-Adi-Mundi, his voice vibrating with a menacing hum.

"The Jedi way? That weakness now lies behind me. I'm no Jedi anymore!"

Ki-Adi-Mundi whispered urgently into his wrist comm, trembling. The entire Council, those physically present, ignited their weapons, keeping their blades at the ready until the temple guards arrived. An entire squad, selected from the most capable fighters the guard had to offer, flooded into the room.

Wordlessly, Kenshin let them guide him away. The silence that hung over the chamber was suffocating. None of the Masters made a sound; each one struggled in their own way to process what they had just witnessed—the fall of one of their own.

Anakin tried to make sense of the chaos. His senses screamed at him, alarms blaring in his mind. Kenshin attacking Mace Windu? A bold move, certainly, but that didn't surprise him in the slightest. His old Master had never been afraid of consequences, and a part of Anakin secretly applauded how Kenshin had made Windu literally feel his disdain. The oh-so-righteous Jedi Master had more than deserved it, both the physical harm and the humiliation. But something else gnawed at Anakin. It wasn't the attack itself; it was the shift in Kenshin's demeanor. The way he had gone from a raging storm to a cold, calculated calm in an instant, the way he had let himself be taken away without a fight. Something was about to happen—Anakin knew it. He still had the image of Ahsoka walking out of that very chamber burned into his mind. Finally, he bolted out of the chamber.

Not a second too soon. The sounds of a lightsaber fight echoed down the corridor, followed by the shattering of a window. Anakin rounded the corner, his heart pounding. The scene that greeted him was pure chaos. A statue had been destroyed in the fight, its pieces scattered across the floor. All fourteen temple guards lay incapacitated, shards of glass and rock strewn around them.

Kenshin, you idiot!

Without hesitation, Anakin leapt through the broken window. Mid-jump, he caught sight of a rapidly fleeing figure and gave chase. But it was no use. Within moments, Kenshin had vanished from view, and from Anakin's perception in the Force. He was gone. Gone!

Skywalker came to a halt, his entire body trembling as he gasped for breath, the realization crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

He left. And he won't come back this time.

His vision blurred, his limbs burned with the sensation of a thousand fiery needles, and an explosion of anguish erupted in his heart, numbing everything else. An animalistic roar tore from his throat.

"KENSHIN! NOOOOOOOOOO!"

How can you do this to me? I cannot lose you, too!

A few passersby turned their heads but quickly averted their gazes, going about their business. The noise of airspeeders in the traffic lanes and the constant hum of life on Coruscant continued as if nothing had happened. The world kept turning, indifferent to the fact that for one man, it had just come to a cruel halt. Ahsoka, and now Kenshin. Bitter, blazing flames of despair devoured Anakin's soul. The great General Skywalker was nowhere to be found in this moment. There was only a small boy who had lost his sister, and now his brother too. The cracks in his pure, loving heart of gold, that was still within, just grew a little deeper.