Here's the Thirteenth chapter! Thank you for all the reviews and comments. Sorry for delay
Author's Note at the End:
Date: February 4 2025
Chapter 13: Among us
Arkanis System,
The cockpit of Obi-Wan Kenobi's Delta-7 Aethersprite-class Jedi starfighter hummed softly as he neared the Arkanis System, one of the many systems bordering Tatooine's vast stretches of lawless space. The last time he had been here, it had been alongside his master and the Queen of Naboo, a journey that had eventually led them to Tatooine, where they had discovered a boy who had won his freedom through sheer will and skill in podracing.
Now, that same boy had returned to this wretched dustball, and had landed himself in the hands of a man no one seemed to truly understand.
The Fox Lord.
Obi-Wan had heard murmurs of the name in Republic intelligence reports over the last few months, but there had been little substantial information. The reports claimed he was an enigma, one who had taken Jabba's throne with brutal efficiency yet had somehow begun turning Tatooine into something... different.
'A warlord, a ruler, a reformer?' Obi-Wan pondered as he stared at the desert world ahead. 'Perhaps all three?'
What he did know was that this Fox Lord and his forces were competent, very competent. They had managed to capture Anakin.
And that was no small feat.
His Padawan was reckless, impulsive, and, at times, frustratingly difficult to control, but he was also one of the most naturally gifted warriors the Jedi had seen in generations. Few could match him in combat, fewer still could capture him. And yet, here he was, a prisoner.
Obi-Wan's grip on the control yoke tightened ever so slightly. He didn't like this. He didn't like any of this.
He had taken a huge risk in leaving his post at Christophsis, where he and his forces had been engaging the Separatists in a prolonged battle. His absence could weaken their hold on the front, could cost them precious ground. But he couldn't risk losing his Padawan, not like this.
The message from Captain Gregor had been as reassuring as it could be in such a dire situation. According to the clones, the Fox Lord's subordinates seemed... reasonable. They had assured Gregor that Anakin was alive and being held, not as a prisoner of war, but rather as a captive awaiting judgment. But that didn't mean much to Obi-Wan.
Tatooine was not known for its softness.
If anything, it was merciless.
And the man who had taken down Jabba the Hutt wouldn't be soft either.
'Anakin, what have you got into this time?'
The ship's astrogation systems chirped as the desert planet came into view, a familiar yet unwelcome sight. With a sigh, Obi-Wan opened a secure transmission to Captain Gregor's team on Tatooine. He needed to know what exactly he was walking into.
Naruto's Palace, Tatooine
Anakin still couldn't quite process everything that had happened.
For years, the memories of Tatooine had haunted him, the scorching heat, the endless dunes, the sense of helplessness as he watched his mother disappear behind the walls of slavery. And yet, here he was, walking freely inside Jabba the Hutt's former palace, now transformed into something else entirely.
He had come to Tatooine seeking his mother, expecting the worst, slavers, crime lords, danger at every corner. What he found instead was something he never imagined.
Jabba the Hutt was gone.
Tatooine had changed.
And most shocking of all? His mother was free.
The Fox Lord, the man who had single-handedly toppled Jabba's empire, had allowed Anakin to leave. That alone should have been unbelievable. A man of such power didn't just let people go. Yet, after a conversation that still left him reeling, the man had permitted Anakin to reunite with his mother, no threats, no conditions.
But he still couldn't believe it, a man who had single-handedly conquered this planet, who now ruled over it, was the same man his mother called her son.
A man his mother treated like a brother to him.
Anakin hadn't even begun to process what that truly meant. He hadn't broached the subject yet, nor had he asked the man directly about his Force powers or the abilities of his subordinates.
Something about the way he carried himself unsettled Anakin, not in a threatening way, but in a way that made him question who or what he really was.
He had tried to ask, subtly probing for answers, but the Fox Lord had an annoying way of deflecting, as if he was more interested in what Anakin wanted, what the Jedi wanted, rather than revealing anything about himself.
Eventually, after a tense yet measured conversation, the man had done something Anakin never expected,
The Fox Lord had let him go.
That in itself was a shock. He hadn't expected the man to be so reasonable. Someone powerful enough to single-handedly conquer Tatooine, to dismantle Jabba's empire, and hold an army of warriors unlike anything the Republic had seen, someone like that shouldn't have just let him walk away.
And yet… he had.
"Go on. Spend some time with your mother."
That had been the Fox Lord's words, spoken as though this was something as simple as granting a leave of absence to a soldier.
It made no sense.
The only thing that grounded him right now was his mother's presence beside him. She had aged, yes, but she was still the same, warm, kind, understanding. The very embodiment of the home he had lost all those years ago.
Anakin clenched his fists as he followed his mother to her chambers, his emotions swirling within him.
It wasn't anger, not exactly. It was confusion.
This man, this Fox Lord, had referred to his mother as 'Kaa-san,' a term foreign to Anakin's ears yet heavy with meaning. His mother, in turn, had not denied it.
She had welcomed it.
And that stung.
Despite himself, he felt jealous.
'Someone else… someone else called her mother. And she accepted it.'
But, deep down, he understood. His mother was kind. She had always cared for those around her, always given to others even when she had nothing. It made sense that she would take in others.
Still, it gnawed at him.
Now, he followed her into her quarters, a luxurious space that, by Tatooine standards, might as well have been royal. As they entered her room, Anakin paused, taking in the luxurious surroundings. This was Jabba's palace, and yet, there was nothing of the filth and darkness that once tainted it.
The room was surprisingly warm, inviting, and well-furnished. A sharp contrast to the desolate, brutal world outside these walls. Silk drapes hung near the balcony, shielding the room from the harsh sunlight. A finely woven rug covered the stone floor, and in the corner, a small artisan-crafted table sat near the bed.
It wasn't that extravagant, but it was comfortable. The walls were smooth, no longer covered in the filth and grime that once defined Jabba's rule. A soft woven carpet lay beneath his feet, something unheard of in a desert settlement
And then… his eyes landed on something familiar.
Something unexpected.
A droid.
A very familiar droid.
His heart stilled for a moment, then kicked into high gear.
"You… you still kept him?" His voice was quiet, almost disbelieving.
Shmi followed his gaze and smiled softly. "Of course, Ani. How could I not? He was your gift to me."
Anakin took a step forward, his fingers reaching out before stopping just inches from the exposed wiring and dull, rusted metal of his first creation.
"C-3PO…"
The droid's photoreceptors flickered to life, his internal systems buzzing as he stirred from his dormant state.
"Oh! Master Anakin! Is that really you?"
C-3PO's voice came out slightly choppy, his speakers clearly worn from years of exposure to Tatooine's harsh desert climate.
His thin, skeletal frame, still without plating, looked just as Anakin had left it, unfinished, wires still showing through the gaps in his metal frame.
"Welcome back, Master Anakin! I must say, this is quite an unexpected reunion! I was under the impression that you had gone off to become a, oh my, my memory banks are a bit dusty. Ah, but my sensors indicate a most joyous occasion!"
Anakin let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.
"You're still in one piece," he muttered, running a hand across the droid's exposed torso. "I guess I should've expected that. But you look worse than when I left you."
C-3PO's head tilted slightly. "Oh dear, yes, I suppose the years have not been particularly kind to my structure. Tatooine's sand is rather invasive, you see. And if I may be perfectly honest, Master Shmi has been most accommodating, but droid maintenance is... well, not precisely her area of expertise."
Shmi let out a gentle laugh, shaking her head. "That's fair. I always meant to get around to it, but, " she gestured to her new life, the palace, the changes, ", things have been... busy."
Anakin snorted. "I can see that."
He circled C-3PO, inspecting him with a mechanic's eye rather than a Jedi's. He could see where parts had worn down, where some of the circuits had shorted, and where the sand had corroded a few connections.
He exhaled slowly.
"I should fix you."
C-3PO perked up immediately, his photoreceptors flashing excitedly.
"Oh, Master Anakin! I cannot tell you how absolutely wonderful that sounds! To be restored to my proper function, oh, the very thought of it fills my circuits with joy! Perhaps even, dare I say, a proper casing to shield my delicate components?"
Anakin smirked. "Yeah, yeah, don't push your luck."
Still, there was a sense of satisfaction bubbling up inside him. It had been so long since he had worked on something with his own hands. No war, no battles, no Jedi duties, just him and his tools.
C-3PO wasn't a weapon.
He wasn't something built for destruction.
He was something Anakin created.
A piece of his past.
A connection to who he had been before the jedi claimed him.
Shmi watched as her son slowly knelt, pulling open one of the storage compartments in the room. He reached in and pulled out a simple toolkit, something kept on hand for small repairs.
She saw the way his shoulders relaxed, the way his fingers moved with confidence, not as a warrior, but as a builder.
A creator.
"Would you like some help?" she asked gently.
Anakin looked up at her, a rare smile playing at his lips.
"Yeah, Mom. I'd like that."
For the first time in years, Anakin felt at peace.
And in that moment, as he began repairing his first creation, a part of him that had been lost for so long found its way back home.
Docking Bay of Jabba's Palace, Now the Fox Lord's Stronghold
The vast docking bay, once a place filled with crude, rusted ships unfit for anything beyond simple planetary travel, had become something entirely different under Naruto's rule. Gone were the old, neglected vessels. In their place stood a variety of ships, some modified freighters, some sleek speeders, and now, a true prize among them, Anakin Skywalker's Eta-2 Actis-class Jedi Interceptor.
The ship gleamed under the dim docking bay lights, its sharp angles and aerodynamic frame standing in stark contrast to the bulkier, dust-covered vessels that once littered the space.
One of Naruto's clones, disguised as Deidara, let out a low whistle, his eyes practically sparkling as he admired the craft. "Wow, this is truly something!" he muttered, stepping closer. His hands twitched slightly, itching to touch the controls.
Behind him, a small group of Naruto's highest-ranked clones, each disguised as familiar figures, had gathered around, their expressions ranging from curiosity to outright admiration.
Kakashi, his masked face barely concealing his interest, crossed his arms as he eyed the sleek craft. "Would the Jedi mind if we flew this thing?" he mused.
Might Guy, standing with his arms crossed in his signature 'power stance,' nodded enthusiastically. "This ship radiates the flames of youth! Just imagine the speed, the agility! I must say, this Jedi has good taste."
Shikamaru, ever the strategist, gave the ship a calculating look. "Better than anything we have. Jabba had plenty of things, credits, connections, mercenaries, but good ships? That was never his forte."
"He never needed to," Hiruzen, another disguised clone, scoffed. He took a slow puff from a Tatooinian pipe, letting out a small cloud of smoke before speaking again. "The fat slug probably never left his throne room. Why would he care about ships when he could just pay someone else to fly for him?"
Shikamaru smirked. "Makes sense. But that means we've inherited a pile of garbage ships. This Jedi's craft, though... now this is something we can actually use."
"If he lets us," Kakashi added, eyeing the interceptor thoughtfully. "It's not like we can just take it for a spin without him noticing. Jedi are protective of their stuff."
Lee, eyes practically shimmering with excitement, looked between them. "Do you think the boss will actually let him leave?"
The group fell silent for a moment, exchanging glances.
"He will," Itachi finally spoke, his voice calm and certain. "He's Shmi's son."
That fact alone changed everything.
No matter how much Naruto played the part of the ruthless ruler, he had a deep liking for the woman who had taken him in. If Shmi wanted her son to go free, Naruto would grant it.
But that didn't mean things would be so simple.
"Even if he lets him go," Shikamaru said, rubbing his chin in thought, "do you really think that Jedi will leave this alone?"
The group exchanged knowing looks.
"No," Kakashi answered simply.
The Jedi were persistent. And now that Anakin had been captured, even if temporarily, Naruto had unknowingly placed himself in the Republic's line of sight. Whether he wanted to be or not, he was a factor in their war now.
"Troublesome, it was bound to happen sooner or later. The real question is what was he or we going to do about it?" Shikamaru spoke out loud as clones sighed.
Depths of the Jedi Temple, Coruscant
The Jedi Temple had been on high alert for hours now. Ever since the breach, every guard, every Knight, and even the Masters were watching their surroundings with newfound vigilance. The once serene halls, where younglings studied and Padawans trained, had transformed into a place of wary glances and tightened security.
Every corridor had been swept, every restricted section monitored, and Jedi patrols doubled. The Temple, which had stood as an unwavering beacon of peace for centuries, now held the tense energy of a fortress expecting another assault.
But Jiraiya had time.
He had patience.
He had perseverance.
And he had a plan.
For an entire night, he had lingered in the hidden recesses of the temple, slipping through the shadows, blending seamlessly into the environment. Every step was calculated, every move intentional.
He had carefully switched disguises, adjusting his appearance to match those around him, sometimes a simple Padawan running an errand, other times a Knight conversing with a fellow Jedi. No one ever questioned a fellow Jedi in their sacred halls.
He observed the guards, noting the rhythm of their patrols, the duration of their shifts, and the blind spots they unknowingly left behind. The Jedi, for all their wisdom and power, were creatures of habit. They followed patterns, repeated the same paths, checked the same places.
But he did not.
He moved unpredictably, never lingering too long in one place, never walking the same corridor twice. He had carefully studied anyone who walked these halls, their routines, their interactions, their expressions.
He had seen several masters walking through the corridors. He had even caught glimpses of Master Yoda, the legendary GrandMaster himself, it seemed he had almost sensed him but he had switched himself out.
Jiraiya had spent his night like a predator stalking its prey, watching, waiting, until finally, opportunity struck.
It came with the first break of dawn.
He had seen a Jedi, a trusted Master, A council member, respected by all, leaving the temple, heading toward the Senate. The way the guards bowed slightly as he passed, the effortless way he moved through the halls, this was someone he could use.
Jiraiya smirked. Perfect.
Without hesitation, he activated his transformation jutsu.
The shift was instant.
Where once stood an unknown figure lurking in the shadows, now walked a high-ranking Jedi Master, one whose presence commanded respect and whose face carried the weight of experience.
Jiraiya moved smoothly, stepping forward with the measured precision expected of a Jedi Master.
His posture was upright, his expression stoic yet composed, the deep-set eyes of his disguise holding the perfect balance of wisdom and weariness. Every movement mirrored the real man perfectly.
To everyone watching, he was not an intruder. He was one of them.
As he walked toward the archive hall, his gaze remained forward, not sparing unnecessary glances, just like how a real Jedi Master would behave.
He approached the grand corridor leading deeper into the archives, where two temple guards stood stationed, their forms rigid, their eyes constantly scanning the area.
Jiraiya knew what was expected of him.
As he neared them, the guards immediately straightened, their hands instinctively pressing against their weapons.
Then, they saw his face.
Their stance relaxed, and in perfect synchrony, they lowered their heads slightly in respect.
"Master."
Jiraiya gave them a small, firm nod, just enough to acknowledge them but not enough to invite conversation.
He continued walking, suppressing the grin that threatened to spread across his face.
'Oh, this is good.'
Too easy.
As he strode forward, he caught sight of a nervous-looking Padawan, lingering around the entrance of one of the archive wings. The boy, clearly out of place, seemed uncertain whether to go inside.
Jiraiya, or rather now a Master, let out a slow exhale and put on his best authoritative voice.
"What are you doing here, Padawan? Don't you know the Temple is on lockdown? No loitering unless necessary."
The effect was immediate.
The boy practically jumped out of his skin, his already-wide eyes going even wider in sheer panic.
The boy jumped, eyes wide. He quickly bowed. "Yes, Master! Apologies, Master! I was just, I mean, I wasn't, I'll go now!"
Jiraiya could barely hold back his laughter as the Padawan turned and hurried away with his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.
'That was fun.'
Then, he heard a soft chuckle behind him.
"That was cruel, Master Windu."
He heard the name of the Jedi Master he had chosen to disguise himself as the perfect target. Who better to impersonate than the one leading the investigation? The very Jedi who had fought the 'intruders' himself.
Internally, he laughed at the irony of it all.
He turned to see Jedi Archivist Master Jocasta Nu, the head librarian and guardian of the Jedi Archives, The one who had almost caught him last time approaching him. Her crisp white robes and sharp, intelligent eyes studied him, but there was a slight upward twitch to her lips, betraying her amusement.
"It's not cruel," Jiraiya replied smoothly, his voice deep and authoritative, perfectly mirroring Mace Windu's natural cadence. "It's common sense."
Inside, he smirked.
'Good. She doesn't suspect a thing.'
Jocasta Nu hummed softly, her arms still crossed as she watched the young Padawan vanish down the hall.
"You should cut them some slack," she said lightly. "That one comes here daily, he's probably losing his mind not being able to spend time in his favorite place."
Jiraiya, maintaining his disguise, let out a short, thoughtful hum, as if considering her words.
"Understandable," he mused, glancing toward the archive entrance as though weighing the situation. "But the lockdown is in place for a reason. He should understand the importance of security."
"Not everyone has such a master of discipline," Jocasta said.
Jiraiya, let out a quiet chuckle, keeping his posture firm and authoritative. "Discipline is important," he said, shifting his hands behind his back in the way he had seen Windu do countless times. "The Jedi Temple is under lockdown for a reason. If they can't handle a little restriction, they won't handle war."
Jocasta raised a delicate eyebrow, "Perhaps. But we are not just warriors, Master Windu. Some of our young ones find solace in knowledge. Would you deny them that in times like these?"
Jiraiya gave a slight hum, pretending to consider her words. "Perhaps not. But caution is necessary," he said with measured wisdom. "The Temple has already been breached once. We can't afford another lapse in security."
Jocasta Nu nodded.
"True, but young minds don't always work that way," she replied. "A little patience wouldn't hurt, Master Windu."
"On another note Master," Jocasta Nu spoke again, drawing his attention. "Weren't you supposed to be at the Senate today? I thought you were supposed to provide them with reports."
Jiraiya forced himself to keep walking at the same measured pace, hiding the tension that briefly passed through his shoulders. 'Damn, she's observant.'
"I plan to," he answered smoothly. "But I need the latest updates on the Temple's security before I leave. The senate will expect that in my report."
Jocasta Nu gave a thoughtful hum. "That's understandable. They have been restless since the intrusion."
He let the words hang just long enough before casually adding, "By the way, Master Jocasta Nu, have you checked the Holocron Vault since the lockdown?"
Jocasta Nu turned her head slightly, clearly intrigued. "The Holocron Vault? What do you mean?"
Jiraiya nodded, keeping his expression serious. "I mean, while we're busy searching outside, what if the infiltrator is already inside? We've been focusing on the idea that the intruder escaped, but what if they never left? A place like the Holocron Vault would be the perfect hiding spot, isolated, undisturbed. If they got in there, we could have missed them entirely. And worse it if it was the target they could be stealing force know what."
Jocasta Nu's sharp gaze flickered with realization. "You believe they could be inside? I hadn't considered that.."
Jiraiya seized the moment. "Come, let's check it now."
Jocasta Nu hesitated. "Should we call for backup, just in case?"
'Damn it.' Jiraiya mentally cursed but kept his composure. Instead, he reached into his robe, pulling out a small Jedi communicator, the one he had stolen from a guard earlier. The smooth metal felt cool in his hands as he pressed a few buttons, pretending to relay an alert.
"They should be on their way," he lied smoothly. "But in the meantime, we can secure the vault ourselves. Time is of the essence."
Jocasta Nu nodded, her trust in Master Windu unwavering.
Jiraiya had to fight the urge to whistle as he walked behind looking at archives and the library. 'Damn, if I weren't on a mission, I'd spend weeks just digging through this place.'
She approached the heavy Holocron Vault door, its . With a wave of her hand, she pressed her palm against the biometric scanner. A faint blue light scanned her hand before flashing green in confirmation.
Then, she retrieved a small authentication card from within her robe and inserted it into the secondary panel. A soft beep echoed through the chamber.
Jiraiya watched her intently, memorizing the process. 'So that's how they do it.'
Finally, the ancient security systems hummed as the heavy door let out a soft hiss and slid open.
Jocasta Nu stepped aside and gestured. "After you, Master Windu."
TBC.
Well, here's the Thirteenth chapter! What should happen next?
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