After class was a free block and Aavruun and Krawruuk were already moving before most of the other younglings stood up.
Aavruun walked with purpose, shoulders set, braids bouncing against his collarbone. Krawruuk matched him at his flank, quiet like always unless a teacher called on him. Their paws made soft, quick taps on the stone as they cut through the corridor. Behind them, Ferus Olin slipped out of the classroom and fell in a few paces back, trying to look casual while he did it. Tru Veld joined even looser, half a jog, half a bounce, his hair already in his eyes again.
Aavruun smelled the aquatic wing before he saw it. Clean water, stone warmed by lights, the faint bite of disinfectant the droids used on every surface. The doors slid open and the sound changed—more echo, more open space, voices bouncing off high walls.
The Jedi were mediating monks, but they were well funded.
The pool sat in the center of a huge room, so wide it swallowed sound. The surface held a steady shimmer under the ceiling panels, broken only by the slow roll of filtration ripples. Markers ran along the edge in neat segments. A ledge dropped away into darker blue until the far end turned almost black. Aavruun had heard caretakers mention the depth—fifty feet—and now he could see it in the way the bottom vanished.
Learning how to swim was essential.
Aavruun stepped onto the tile and flicked water off his claws from habit even though his paws were dry. Krawruuk shook out his wrists and flexed his fingers like he always did before anything physical. A service droid rolled past with a stack of towels and a bin of simple training weights—sealed blocks with hand grips, sized for small bodies. Its optic blinked once at the group and it parked itself against the wall, waiting.
Ferus reached the edge and looked down, eyes tracking the depth markers. "You two come here every free block," Ferus said, trying to keep his voice even.
Aavruun answered while he checked the lane space, already mapping how many bodies could move at once. "Yeah. You coming?"
Tru dropped onto the bench with a thump and started pulling off his tunic, folding it the way the caretakers drilled into them. "He's coming," Tru said, bright like always. "I'm coming. We all know we're coming."
Aavruun nodded once and started setting the pace without making a speech about it. He stepped onto the shallow step, water climbing his shins, then his knees. Krawruuk followed, shoulders rolling as he lowered in. The water beaded on Wookiee fur, darkening it in streaks. Aavruun's white fur clumped and hung heavier at the forearms. Krawruuk's black fur soaked up the light and made him look like a moving shadow under the surface.
Aavruun looked back at the other kids. "Two easy laps. Stay in your lane. If you swallow water, you stop and you fix it. You don't panic."
Ferus slid in more carefully, gripping the edge, feet searching for the next step before committing weight. Tru just dropped in and came up sputtering, then laughed at himself and wiped his face with both hands.
Krawruuk moved first. He pushed off the wall with a clean snap of legs and started a steady stroke down the lane, head turning with rhythm. Aavruun followed half a second later, matching his brother's cadence. Their bodies cut the water with minimal splash for seven-year-olds, and the gap between their strokes stayed consistent like they'd measured it.
Ferus tried to mirror what he saw. He kept his hands too close at first, then corrected mid-lap, adjusting the angle like he was fixing a stance in stick work. Tru's swim looked more like enthusiasm than efficiency—fast kicks, uneven pulls—yet he kept moving, refused to quit, and he watched the twins every time he turned his head to breathe.
At the far wall, Aavruun planted both hands, pulled his body in, and pushed off into the return lap. Krawruuk hit the same wall a heartbeat later, turned with less wasted motion, and came back just as smooth.
By the time the group finished two laps, a couple more younglings had wandered in and hovered at the edge with towels in their hands, watching. Aavruun clocked them without inviting them and without chasing them off. If they wanted to join, they would join.
Aavruun hauled himself onto the deck and shook water off his arms. Droplets scattered across tile and caught the light. Krawruuk climbed out beside him and rolled his neck once, slow, then started stretching his shoulders against the wall the way he liked—palms flat, elbows locked, leaning in until the joint opened.
Aavruun walked to the bin and grabbed two of the small weights. He held one out to Tru, one out to Ferus.
Ferus hesitated like he was waiting for permission from an instructor, then took it with both hands. "What are we doing?"
Aavruun stepped back to the edge. "Ten feet. Walk it down. Hold it. Come back up. Repeat."
Tru's eyebrows lifted. "Ten feet is easy."
Aavruun slid into the water again. "Say that after five rounds."
Krawruuk went in without a word, already holding his weight block at his chest. He sank first, controlled, bubbles slipping out through his nose in a thin stream. Aavruun followed, letting the water close over his ears, the world turning muffled and heavy.
They dropped to the ten-foot depth where the light changed. The pool floor sat below them, still far enough down to feel like a separate level. The twins planted their feet on a submerged platform and settled in. The weights made their shoulders work. The water took the edge off the load and still forced constant control, every small tremor amplified by buoyancy.
Aavruun watched Tru and Ferus come down after them. Tru arrived first, cheeks puffed, eyes wide but steady. Ferus followed slower, exhaling carefully like he'd been taught, gripping the block tight enough his knuckles went pale.
Aavruun lifted his chin toward Tru and pointed at his own chest, then tapped two fingers against his throat: slow. Tru nodded and let out a long stream of bubbles, shoulders easing as his body stopped fighting the water.
Krawruuk held position like a statue. His ears flattened back, fur waving slightly with each current from the filtration jets. His eyes stayed open, tracking. He looked calm, but Aavruun felt the tension under it through their bond—the deliberate control, the effort to keep everything steady.
After the first hold, Aavruun kicked up and let the weight pull him into a smooth ascent. He broke the surface with minimal splash, inhaled once, then lowered again.
Rounds stacked. The water cooled their skin and made their muscles work in a different way than mats ever did. Aavruun liked it because it punished sloppy breathing. It forced patience. It forced calm.
After the last round, Aavruun climbed out and grabbed a towel. He rubbed water out of his braids and listened to the room: kids laughing on the shallow steps, water slapping against tile, a droid's soft whirr as it pushed a floor squeegee across the deck.
Tru flopped onto the bench and pressed his towel over his face. "You two are insane," Tru said, muffled.
Aavruun answered while he wrung water from his forearm fur. "We're training."
Ferus sat upright, towel folded neatly on his lap, breathing hard but controlled. "What's next?"
Aavruun nodded toward the padded mat area set off to the side. "Unarmed."
Martial arts, unarmed.
The mat space smelled like clean foam and the faint rubbery scent of grip spray. Aavruun stepped onto it barefoot and rolled his ankles out. Krawruuk followed, shaking water from his hands one last time before planting his feet. Tru and Ferus came in behind, along with two more younglings who'd decided to join after watching the pool work.
Aavruun set the tone by doing it, not announcing it. He dropped into a stance that fit his body—knees bent, hips under him, hands up and open. He kept his head moving slightly, eyes scanning, weight light on the balls of his feet.
Most of what Aavruun knew from his last life was how to kill and incapacitate. He had spent years drilling combatives, grappling, controlling bodies in close quarters. He had spent days and days on simple mechanics—dry firing, dry reloading, repetition until the hands moved without thought. He adjusted what he used here. He cut out the parts meant to break joints. He kept the parts meant to put someone on the floor and keep them there.
Krawruuk mirrored him with less motion, more stillness. His hands stayed higher, elbows tighter. He watched like he was collecting data.
Ferus stepped forward first because Ferus always stepped forward when the next thing was structured. He raised his hands the way the Temple taught—guard up, shoulders relaxed, feet set at the angles the instructor diagrammed.
Aavruun nodded at Ferus. "You first. Come at me."
Ferus swallowed, then moved in with a straight-line entry, textbook. He jabbed in to make space, then tried to clinch high, going for Aavruun's shoulders like he'd been shown.
Aavruun shifted his base without stepping back far. He turned his torso, let Ferus's hands slide, then caught Ferus's arm at the wrist and elbow. Aavruun's hip rotated into place. His foot hooked behind Ferus's ankle. Aavruun's hands guided and his hips did the work.
Ferus hit the mat on his back with a controlled thump. Aavruun stayed attached just long enough to keep Ferus from bouncing and then stepped off clean.
Ferus blinked up at him, surprised and annoyed.
Aavruun offered a hand. Ferus took it and popped back up, cheeks flushed.
Ferus tried again, faster. Ferus tried to grab lower, to get leverage. Aavruun let Ferus close, then shifted his weight and used Ferus's momentum. Aavruun's foot slid into place, his shoulder turned, his hands redirected. Ferus went down again, this time with his legs briefly in the air before the mat caught him.
Ferus sucked in a breath, sat up, and wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his wrist. "Again."
Aavruun nodded. "Again."
The third attempt came with Ferus trying to grapple. Ferus drove in, arms wrapping, head tight to Aavruun's chest the way he'd been taught in a safe tackle. Aavruun widened his stance, dropped his hips, and turned slightly. He caught Ferus's arm, stepped around, and used a simple throw that sent Ferus flat and pinned for a beat with Aavruun's weight distributed, not crushing, just controlled.
Once, twice, three times Aavruun owned him.
Ferus lay there for a second, breathing hard, then nodded like he'd just been given a problem to solve. Ferus was a rule follower to the letter, and it showed even in how he lost—he took it like a lesson.
Aavruun stepped back and pointed at Ferus's feet. "Your base is good. You come straight every time. Change your angle. Make me turn."
Ferus nodded sharply like he'd been issued an assignment.
Tru stepped in next without waiting. Tru bounced on his toes, grinning, loose shoulders, hands up in a sloppy guard that still somehow kept his chin covered.
Krawruuk moved to meet him.
Tru's flexibility showed right away. He skirted around Krawruuk with quick steps, trying to get to his side. He threw light taps at Krawruuk's arms and shoulders, testing reactions. He moved like a kid who'd played a thousand chase games and learned timing from it.
Krawruuk kept his base. He didn't chase. He let Tru orbit and waited for the moment Tru's feet came too close.
Tru tried to dart in with a quick grab at Krawruuk's wrist.
Krawruuk caught the fist. His grip closed like a clamp. He dipped his level and drove his shoulder into Tru's midsection with control, then stepped through the legs. Tru's balance went. Krawruuk's hips turned and Tru hit the mat hard enough to feel it, controlled enough to stay safe.
Seven seconds later, Krawruuk had Tru in a submission hold—arm trapped, shoulder pressured, Tru's free hand tapping the mat twice in quick acknowledgment.
Tru lay there breathing fast, eyes bright, face flushed with the shock of how quick it happened. Krawruuk released immediately and backed off, hands up, neutral.
Aavruun watched it and felt a small pulse of satisfaction through the bond. Krawruuk had timed it clean.
A few of the other kids murmured. One tried copying Tru's entry on a friend and got shoved off balance. Another tried copying Krawruuk's level change and nearly faceplanted, laughing as he caught himself.
Aavruun didn't lecture them. He moved into the next round and set the pace by working.
Aavruun ran them through short bursts: footwork across the mat, sprawls onto forearms and back up, controlled clinch entries, pummeling for inside control. He kept the reps tight and consistent. He demonstrated once, then made them do it. When someone got sloppy, Aavruun corrected with a brief phrase and a physical example: he took their wrist, placed it where it belonged, then stepped away.
Krawruuk helped without talking. He loomed when a kid's posture collapsed, arms crossed, and the kid straightened without needing to be told why. When someone tried to muscle through a movement, Krawruuk trapped them in a gentle hold and made them feel how leverage beat strength.
Ferus kept returning for more. Ferus adjusted every time he got dropped. Ferus tried angling his entries after Aavruun told him to. Ferus still approached like a textbook, but he started turning the page faster.
Tru bounced back from the submission with a grin and asked for another go. Tru tested different angles. Tru tried feints. Tru tried speed. Krawruuk kept cutting him off, hands calm, feet planted, moving only when it mattered.
Aavruun watched the whole group start to follow the intensity because the twins set it and held it. Aavruun and Krawruuk ran themselves and everyone ragged. The kids came in laughing and left sweating, hair stuck to foreheads, towels dark with water and effort.
Aavruun kept a fine line in his head the way he always did. Aavruun pushed hard. Aavruun kept it safe. Aavruun corrected bad habits early. Aavruun didn't break anyone, and he didn't let anyone coast.
Aavruun led by doing.
When the free block started running out, the droid by the wall chirped a time warning in a neutral tone and rolled forward with towels. Aavruun nodded to it without breaking pace, then finally let the group breathe.
Tru sat on the edge of the mat and rubbed his forearm, smiling like he'd just found his favorite game. Ferus stood in front of Aavruun, sweat on his brow, chest rising and falling, eyes still locked in.
Ferus spoke between breaths. "Again tomorrow?"
Aavruun gave a short nod. "If you show up."
Ferus nodded back like that was already decided.
Aavruun loved the training he did. He could do it for years and be content but it lacked the edge of life and death
After that, the younglings peeled off in different directions. Ferus and Tru drifted back toward their own blocks, voices fading into the corridor noise. Aavruun headed for his room with sweat still drying in the fur along his forearms, the faint smell of chlorine clinging to his braids.
As he walked, Aavruun kept circling the same thought: another decade or so and it would be time for the Clone Wars. The idea sat in his chest like pressure he actually liked. Battle. Pressure. A real test.
He'd seen enough life—two lives—to know what came with that. People would die. Innocents would get caught up in it. The galaxy carried a light side and a dark side, and both had teeth. Aavruun kept his line simple: don't be an asshole, don't hurt people for fun, don't pretend violence was clean.
He also understood the Jedi more than most people would expect from a seven-year-old Wookiee.
Aavruun had lived "There is no emotion, there is peace" in his old life in ways most beings never had to. His parents died. He dropped out of school, scrambling to keep everything together, and watched their business partners cheat him out of what his parents had built and saved. He'd buried people. He'd watched good plans fail. He'd watched a helicopter go down and felt the whole world narrow to noise, heat, and impact. He'd died. Every one of those moments came with a reason to stay angry, a reason to call life unfair and sit in it. He still got up and did the next job. Peace, to him, came from accepting what happened and deciding what came next, instead of letting anger run the schedule.
If someone somewhere could achieve real world peace, cool. Aavruun would ride with it. He also understood what peace usually meant in practice: you made it, you maintained it, and you paid for it when it broke. Part of him agreed with the Jedi because of that. "There is no emotion, there is peace" worked as a standard. It kept people steady when the work got ugly.
In this life, the Temple's doctrine sat on top of that like a structured frame. It worked. It kept the day clean and predictable. It built control. Aavruun could be content being a Jedi—right up until it was time to live on his terms.
That thought followed him all the way back to his door.
Aavruun stepped inside, shut it, and let the quiet settle. The room held Temple simplicity: smooth walls, folded bedding, a few approved training items stacked where he kept them, the air cool and filtered. His body felt worked over in a good way—tendons warm, joints loose, lungs still open from the pool.
Aavruun sat down and stared at the floor for a long moment, letting his mind run without anyone talking at him.
He still didn't know enough.
The Temple kept younglings sheltered on purpose. Doctrine first. Habits first. The wider galaxy came later, once they trusted you to carry it without letting it carry you. In the next year or two, that leash would loosen. Aavruun already knew he'd keep his own leash tight anyway.
He needed information before he decided how he would prep for the future. Real information. Not just what the Temple thought a youngling should hear, and not just what a droid read off a curriculum slate.
Because this was a galaxy far, far away.
And there was so much more.
Aavruun breathed out slow, the way he'd been trained, and let the plan sit in place.
He would learn what he could. He would train. He would watch. He would wait.
And when the time came. A Wookiee would rise.