Inside a monumental structure built at the dawn of the era of space colonization, which became home for millions of sentients, training goes on day after day... Of sentients who possess a talent for an incredible feature called the Force... It is multifaceted, incredible, boundless...
In one of the many rooms, a clan of younglings was training... A huge hall for practical exercises was, effectively, given to a clan of thirty sentients. Though the session was for the youngest group of the Hawk-bat Clan. More precisely — for mine...
"Drallig versus Flyingstar," whispers came from my group's side. "Brute force versus the Force..."
Yes... Alas, but I was always positioned as Drallig's rival, if only because this dark-haired boy was born with a rather powerful physique and always used it almost instinctively. I, on the other hand, was naturally scrawny, despite my somehow developed muscles... But at the same time, I possess the greatest Force potential in the last twenty years or so. The speed of mastering Force techniques, meditation, the very execution of techniques — all this provoked animosity from Drallig.
And even though he didn't try to provoke me, probably remembering that I, as one who literally excels at everything related to mastering the Force, could easily smear him with just telekinesis without much effort, he still tried. And I don't need that kind of rivalry at all. I just want to survive the upcoming meat grinders, so I'm grabbing everything for myself. Force techniques, physical training, swordsmanship... I'll gather everything I can possibly master so that during the Clone Wars, they'll be afraid to even touch me... And after the Clone Wars — who knows. But most likely, I'll just run off to some backwater, find a planet like Scarif — a tropical paradise — and live in peace and quiet.
Right... No time for reflection... Shii-Cho. The training duel everyone in our clan was waiting for...
"Don't get cocky, Flyingstar," Drallig hissed. "I'm going to beat you so badly you'll be in the medbay for two, no, three weeks."
"Hold your speeders," I tried to reason with him. "It's a training duel. No point in going all out."
I don't want to seriously clash with the future master of combat. And everything was going so well until Leyla, who was watching our pre-fight squabble with anticipation, calmly twirling her golden hair around her finger, said that we had training duels ahead, the purpose of which was to show how well we knew Shii-Cho, how we had learned Shii-Cho, which almost everyone was finding difficult.
We spent three months learning this form. And the droids that fired training lasers had practically tortured us... Well, some got shot up, while others, through hellish prior training, almost immediately started blocking everything, making all the classmates and even older younglings envious — they seemed to want to kill me. Just for my talent... And now everyone was wondering... What would win? The Force and my techniques, which, by the way, are limited to precognition and enhancement, or Drallig's raw power — the guy who, for a second, broke the nose — or whatever they have — of Gol, a Wookiee. Not important...
A training duel among younglings is simple in itself. We fight, for now using only the Shii-Cho form, since we haven't started learning other forms yet. Gradually, we speed up movements and attacks, although this rule probably won't work, and Drallig and I will start at high speed right away. After all, Drallig wants to beat me up way too much to hold back and gradually increase the pace. A six-year-old youngling is practically burning with bloodlust... How do I know? Well, ever since I decided to train empathy on my Wookiee clanmate, I've made some progress, and by concentrating, I can tell who's thinking what about me right now. The duel between younglings, that is, between the two of us, will continue exactly until one of us admits defeat by shouting "Sola." The main goal is to disarm or inflict enough unpleasant damage. But Drallig, I can say with certainty, will go for the latter.
"Fight!" the teacher-tormentor exclaimed, looking in our direction with anticipation.
Drallig nimbly and without any fuss quickly covered the five meters separating us and raised an icy-white lightsaber blade over my head. Yeah, well, he's attacking not as the philosophy of the duel requires. The philosophy of the Shii-Cho form and youngling combat in this form requires disarming the opponent, not striking like that. But this is Drallig. A barbarian, as Feemor called him. The world transformed...
Using Force techniques that affect perception and enhance physical abilities during such a fight is allowed. Though it's better not to use enhancement yet — after all, who said I can't react to Drallig's current speed? He won't use enhancement for the whole duel, simply because he doesn't know how to apply it. More precisely — he hasn't gotten the hang of it yet. For Force enhancement, you not only need a body that can withstand it. You need a sufficiently disciplined mind... Enhancement is like a breath that spreads through the body... You need to use it adequately, which the barbarian has trouble with.
But precognition is another matter. Ever since I understood the basic principle of separating the present from the future — I've been applying precognition without remorse to everything I wanted, becoming for my classmates a sort of Star Wars-flavored Katakuri (Author's note: for those out of the loop — one of the strongest characters from the anime and manga One Piece; one of Katakuri's abilities is looking into the future five seconds ahead, making him as sharp as a scythe to the balls and as hard as a hammer blow). And right now, I saw where Drallig's strike was aimed a couple of seconds before the swing itself, and I simply sidestepped to my left, immediately turning and aiming a strike at the wrist of his right hand, the one holding the saber. The strike is called "shiim" and is meant to burn the hand, forcing the opponent to drop their weapon. But... This is a barbarian.
Drallig's reflexes, or rather — animal instincts — were top-notch, literally. He couldn't parry the strike in time, and he realized that if he parried by simply deflecting the blade aside, I would immediately attack another part of his body — after all, we're equal in physical speed without enhancement, and he's standing sideways and wouldn't have time to shift. So Drallig jumped to the side, breaking the distance... I didn't pursue him. No way, I don't like taking risks. Instead, I stood back in the Shii-Cho ready stance. Two-handed grip, the saber aimed approximately at the opponent's head.
"You're annoying. Not going to attack? Then I will," why is he talking during a fight. Did I end up in an anime, or Star Wars? Though talking during a fight is common here too. But we're younglings, what conversations? "Going to stay quiet? I'll wipe that arrogant smirk off your face."
I wasn't smiling, actually. Drallig attacked me again, this time aiming the strike correctly, at the hands. I ducked, letting the blade pass over me, and again attacked his wrist with a shiim thrust. But Drallig is a barbarian, so he managed to block and... He pressed down on the saber, the training blade hitting my cheek, starting to burn it... Pain! I jumped back... So painful! I don't like pain! I need to master Soresu quickly, but first — I need to finish the duel. I didn't drop my weapon, so I haven't lost yet. Maybe surrender? No, I still haven't tested my precognition and enhancement fully... How unpleasant this is. I don't want to be hurt anymore. By anyone... I released the Force I was holding back, letting it flow through my body. Enhancement, precognition... Now I'll show you.
Drallig backed up slightly... So he did manage to learn something from altus-sopor. But too late... No matter how much he fears me, I'll still show him. I don't want to endure pain; I'm to blame for my injury. And Drallig... Who's definitely going to get it now. I instantly closed the couple of meters between us, not even slowing down, and under Drallig's astonished gaze, struck his left torso. But he managed to block the strike... My blade bounced off his... No, that's not all. The next strike landed on his shoulder. Giving in to inertia, I accelerated myself and struck Drallig in the shoulder. The blade burned through the youngling's temple robes... Now it was Drallig's turn to cry out as he retreated. But I continued my pursuit, under the astonished look of Cin himself — he clearly thought I fought from defense. Now he'll attack with a thrust to the chest...
My body moved on its own. I dropped low, again letting the strike pass over me; Drallig couldn't react in time. A leg sweep, and he crashed to the floor. A light touch to my clanmate's wrist, and he dropped his saber... I stood up, breathing heavily. In my right hand, I held the lightsaber aimed at the chest of the prone Drallig, while my left hand touched the burn on my right cheek...
"Hutt," Drallig cursed. "Sola!"
I deactivated the lightsaber, twirled it in my hand, and clipped it to my belt.
"Light wins," Leyla said. "Although your fight deviates from the Order's usual canons."
"And why, teacher?" came Feemor's voice.
"Because a Shii-Cho duel is a duel of swordsmanship skill," said one of the older younglings from the Twi'lek race, Jin, I think. "You're supposed to fight only using lightsabers and Force techniques that affect the body. Contact strikes with limbs are not encouraged."
"You're right," Leyla concluded, "but as sad as it is, outside the Temple, you'll find exactly this postulate useful: your entire body is a weapon for defense. It's foolish to refuse anything, so — I'd call it a draw, since Light clearly broke the duel rules, despite his victory. Kicks and punches are not encouraged, though not forbidden. But from a real combat perspective — Light lost."
"Lost?" Vers asked. "But teacher! He defeated Cin."
Cin also looked bewildered, as, honestly, did I. One of the older younglings, a Tholothian named Loris, was helping me, smearing bacta ointment on my shallow wound.
"It's simple," the teacher explained. "Earlier, Cin struck Light in the face. Such a blow with a combat lightsaber is fatal. Your chances of surviving such an attack are about five or six percent to ninety-five, ninety-four — you either lose an eye or die with a split head. Light," she addressed me, "you're too inattentive to details. I agree that your mastery of enhancement and precognition is incredible, but you let your guard down too much. At first, you completely underestimated Cin and only started using enhancement after he wounded you. This underestimation of your opponent could play a nasty trick on you."
"In an unrestricted fight, he wouldn't have gotten close to me, teacher," I said, sulking.
"Possibly," Leyla nodded, "but keep in mind — you can't rely on just one trick. Telekinesis isn't everything. Additionally, in your place, I'd pay attention to evasions. I'll tell you this: your ideal form is Ataru. Despite the fact that physically you're now developed as much as Cin, in the future you'll only be able to match him through enhancement. Meanwhile, you catch strikes on your saber, dodging less often than blocking. And yes, you'll be able to do the same in the future, but with enhancement. However, that will drain your endurance — why catch strong strikes unnecessarily, using up your enhancement, when you could dodge using Ataru?" the teacher asked. "Think about it."
And what's there to think about, Soresu is still better than Ataru. Because Ataru barely focuses on defense. All of Ataru's defense is evasion. But Soresu... Defense in the form of a lightsaber blade that can deflect blaster shots... Sorry, teacher, but I have knowledge of the canon on my side, which I know better than you. Ataru has lost, and more than once. Both Qui-Gon and Yoda used that exact form against their opponents. And if Yoda was battered after the fight with Sidious, Qui-Gon outright lost his life. Though that was more the will of the Force than his lack of skill.
"As for Cin, it's simple," Leyla looked at the boy after I bowed my head in silence, deep in thought. "You're too undisciplined. You have things to learn from Light. I recall you telling everyone that you wanted to become a Great Jedi, a Protector of the Oppressed. But if you keep charging into attack so recklessly and without a plan, it'll be you who needs protecting. If Light had been more confident and hadn't underestimated you, he would have beaten you in a few moves, without breaking the rules and exposing himself to your blade. You're both at fault, but don't despair. That's what training is for — you must find your shortcomings and try to correct them. Understood? Light? Cin?"
"Yes, teacher," I said calmly. "I'll try," though some of your conclusions don't suit me.
"Me too," Cin Drallig exclaimed with exaggerated loudness. "Just you wait, Flyingstar, next time I'll beat you! Fair and square."
"Hmph," I snorted. "You can't even see your own future, Drallig," it came out slightly arrogant. "Next time, you won't even manage five swings."
Yes, I don't particularly want to take part in battles. But I also don't want to lose! I was given a chance at a new life. It doesn't matter now why I was reborn after death. The fact itself is — I can live a new life, become someone else, not that Leonid Ivanov, so I must try, now as Light Flyingstar. If I lose to Drallig, currently a youngling, my peer, then what right do I have to talk about my survival? I must not be afraid of battles. Yes, I should be cautious, but not run from everyone...
"Good," Leyla summed up. "But remember — don't be angry with each other. You're a family now, and anger is a direct path to the dark side. And now — Feemor versus Gol."
"Are you kidding me?" Feemor asked. "Gol is a Wookiee! Why can't he be matched against Cin or Light? At least they have a chance against him."
"Feemor," Leyla said his name reproachfully. "A Jedi is not afraid of difficulties. Obstacles on the path become the path itself. What kind of Jedi would you be if you simply run away? Avoiding a fight — yes. But not running from it when you must fight instead. Besides — you're a family, and Gol is unlikely to want to cripple you, while Light and Cin have already fought today."
"Uaw," Gol nodded. "Wua, uaw, war!"
Judging by the emotions he's putting into it, Gol clearly isn't going to try very hard. No wonder it's Draillig they've nicknamed "the barbarian," not the Wookiee. According to Rela, the Twi'leks say Gol is actually sweet, soft and fluffy. I've never understood girls.
"Come on, go," I said, giving Feemor a slight push into the circle. "The main thing is, don't be afraid."
"And why shouldn't I be afraid?" Feemor hissed. "I don't have incredible physical strength, nor the prescience to see every attack and come up with counters. Eh, fine... Someone's got to fight him."
Why did he say that in a tone like he was marching off to fight an entire army? Gol has incredible physical strength, he's a Wookiee. But he's also a bit clumsy and not especially fast. The same tactics I used against Cin Draillig would work on him...
"Sola!" Feemor exclaimed when he tried to block a hit Gol landed on him. With that word "sola," Feemor admitted defeat.
"WAAAGH!" Gol shouted victoriously, raising both arms in the air.
"How was that so fast?" Draillig asked. "You're too worthless," he said to Feemor.
"Sorry," Feemor muttered, rubbing the spot of the burn. "But they put a huge, strong, hairy Wookiee up against me! Do you honestly think I would have beaten that monster?"
"Wwoof... Wua," Gol said, hugging Feemor until his ribs creaked.
"Ow... Hey, I get it. You're not a monster, let go already," Feemor protested. "You hairy beast," came his whisper. "Well, never mind, next time I'll totally beat him."
"You'll overcome him," I corrected. "And I'd like to see that. Nothing motivates like a defeat."
"Defeat is what awaits you, Flyingstar," Draillig informed me. "You're weak, and your talent won't help you. When we start learning forms—other than Shii-Cho—I'll master Shien and kick your ass!"
"Cin," I corrected him, "but Shien is a variation of the form for deflecting blaster fire. For duels, they use the Djem So variation."
"That's what I said, smart one!" Cin hissed.
The girls in our clan fought rather drearily. Rela, Vers, and Maru didn't particularly shine in swordsmanship; it was already clear they'd choose any path but this one. For example, Rela, the Twi'lek, was pretty good at healing. Vers was into droid construction—I remember she understands it far better than most—and Maru leaned more toward hand-to-hand combat.
"Well, then," Leyla announced, summing it up. "Your fencing training will stay like this until I consider that you've mastered Shii-Cho."
"And how will you decide that?" I asked Leyla. My hands were itching to get started on Soresu.
"Curious, are you?" the teacher asked. "It's simple—I'll put you up against whoever I deem fit. It could be an older youngling or someone from your age group. Only those who show me an acceptable level of mastery of Shii-Cho will be able to go to Knight Roan's class and begin learning other forms."
"I could do it right now..." Cin began, but was stopped by a "dagger glare" from Leyla.
"No, you're not ready, but don't worry. One way or another, sooner or later—you will all go to Knight Roan's lessons. For now, Drem and Cork, please," she called over two tall guys who looked about twelve years old. "Use only Shii-Cho and enhancement techniques. Show the kids what it means to 'pass the test.'"
The two guys were from the human race. And they put on a real dance, mesmerizing us with their swordsmanship. Drem was tall and wiry, a muscular guy, while Cork moved like a snake—deft and fast—but they both used only Shii-Cho, launching attacks with varying strength and speed.
"Only by demonstrating something like this will you gain access to Knight Roan's lessons. Fencing training is not differentiated by age," she informed us. "So it doesn't matter when you pass the test, or who he puts you to spar with. Now—continue the training. Everyone..."
And we continued. We'd crawl back to our room barely alive again. But what can you do? If I do nothing now and slack off on training, I'll just get killed somewhere. I'm not just training for fun. I have to train to exhaustion, learning new abilities, or else I'm done for.
"Draillig," I called out to my clan-mate.
"Well, what do you want, Flyingstar?" he asked, looking down at me arrogantly.
"Sparring?"
"Sure, let's do it," he nodded. "I'll beat you anyway, now or later."
We held training spars until evening, using only our Shii-Cho abilities and, naturally, under the supervision of the older younglings, who weren't slacking off either. They kept an eye on our pairs while training in whatever they were doing themselves. Someone was clearly training their sensory perception, observing us through meditation; someone was buried in a datapad, only half-watching their "younger comrades." And someone had already locked into their own spar, clearly using something else, but definitely not Shii-Cho.
"Just remember," the teacher reminded us. "You are still forbidden from unrestricted sparring. Especially you, Light. With your strength, you could easily injure your own family."
"Ha!" Draillig snorted. "I will beat him in the future even without restrictions."
"Dream on, it's not forbidden," I snorted, getting ready for the fight.