Chapter Text
Walking up the stairs of the Jedi Temple, Anakin could feel a divergence in the Force. It made him slow his stride a little, which in turn brought Ahsoka to his dragging pace, a trait most padawans carried: being able to be in tune with their Master. The slower pace was probably better for her, as her recent injury in Felucia caused her leg to be wrapped in a cast and one of the 501st to steady her up the steps.
This feeling made him nervous.
Whatever the Force was trying to warn him of didn’t feel malicious in its intent, but more of the Force wanting him to be taught a lesson, and he was in no mood for learning. With his mech-hand in need of repair and the Togruta out of commission, unable to be at his side, he would be at a disadvantage for whatever it was that came his way.
But, he figured, an attack from within the Jedi Temple would be met with the might of the galaxy’s finest warriors, none finer than him of course. He puffed out his chest in arrogance, one of Ashoka’s leks grazing his arm in his movement. He brushed the fleshy appendage off of him with slight nausea.
She doesn’t notice, too busy focused on keeping her footsteps aligned with Kix’s up the stairs.
Upon reaching the top, he paused, and glanced around the near quiet Temple, emptier than he had ever been used to. A few Jedi walked past him, solo or in pairs, but none that posed a threat to the Hero With No Fear.
“Master?” Ahsoka’s voice sounded tired, and he knew without any doubt that he’d find the same exhaustion in his own.
“I’m sorry, Ahsoka. I thought I sensed something.” The warning still didn’t feel evil—and he knew evil. Fighting Sith Lords, and Sith acolytes, and Pirates, and Bounty Hunters, and Murderous Cyborgs will teach you one way or the other—but rather like disappointment. Like when Obi-Wan tried to teach him a lesson he couldn’t be bothered to grasp.
He tried to be patient and understanding with his old Master, but his lessons felt like they dragged on forever and were as useful as his Arithmetic classes in the Temple when he was younger. He never saw the need to actually learn it, Watto having taught him everything he needed to know about transactions anyways.
With a shake of his head, he resumed their pace, the giant Grand Entrance making the back of his skin crawl as the walls seemed like they were closing in on him. His eyes darted from hallway to hallway until he finally saw it.
A shadow that seemed out of place.
Did it just move?!
What was that? Anakin wondered as he once again stopped walking. This time Ahsoka not so lucky in noticing his delay, bumping right into him and jostling her leg at the impact.
It was her hiss of pain and Kix’s soft curse of apology that made him lose his focus on the shadow.
That was his first mistake.
The shadow, which of course, wasn’t really a shadow, but a figure in what could have been tight-skinned black outfit or the figure’s actual skin, raced towards Anakin on all fours at an alarming speed that he only had the time to push Ahsoka and Kix away and shield his body from the brunt of the figure’s impact, a roundhouse kick.
He skidded closer to the entrance, giving him his moment to unattach his lightsaber from his belt and dash forwards. His first move against his opponent felt unreal as the lightsaber didn’t appear to make any sort of contact, almost gliding through the shade as if it wasn’t there.
The shock of his lightsaber going through nothing paired with the shifted weight distribution, caused Anakin to stumble forwards as he tried to realign his body to his next stance, questioning the tangibility of his attacker.
His second mistake.
It was his attacker’s perfectly tangible uppercut that knocked a few screws loose in him, figurative and literal. He glanced down at his arm, the panel missing one or two of the bolts needed to hold everything together. But he had to pack that away for now.
He glared in frustration at his not so great standing in the fight at the moment, but didn’t let that deter him from winning. Anakin ran through the slashes on Djem So with half of his normal energy and the trials from the latest campaign, he couldn’t even tell what species this thing was from. Said shade was dodging every stroke with ease, flipping and turning its body backwards while Anakin charged it, which only fueled to make the hot-headed Knight angrier. At one point, it stood perched on the ground, snarling and posturing.
It could have been a trick of the light or Anakin’s tired state, but the creature’s form in front of him never stayed consistent. At what first looked like a tall person wearing black clothes, almost similar to Anakin’s preferred color of Jedi robes, now looked like a towering soul of agony, complete with the shifting images of curling antlers at the top.
A giggle erupted from it after a while, as it went back to its somewhat usual appearance, and Anakin knew with severe irritability, that this thing was just toying with him. That it was just a game for it. The hidden power in its body showed the Jedi that if Anakin truly had his regular strength back, this thing would still prove to be a worthy challenge.
Why does it move like a Jedi? He frustratedly darted forward in a Makashi-like move that would make Dooku proud, in an attempt to catch his opponent off-guard, but his breath and his weapon were caught.
By twin blue lightsabers.
Glancing quickly at Ahsoka, he knew he saw the same level of apprehension that he felt in his very bones. While Ashoka might have been learning the basics of Jar'Kai these past few months, there was a reason Obi-Wan was the one to teach her and not him. Not only was Obi-Wan more experienced with dealing with two weapons, Anakin had never seen the appeal other than the childish admiration of adding more lightsabers than was needed. And now his inexperience had caught up with him.
His third mistake.
In addition to fighting sleep, he was also trying desperately to fight masterly wielded blades that came close to cutting his head off.
What would Obi-Wan do? What would Obi-Wan do? This mantra ran through the Knight’s head as he knew he could very well be impaled on a lightsaber in the next second.
He would find a weakness to his adversary! But it was so hard to tell with no discriminating characteristics.
At first, Anakin would have guessed Human, but the figure in its natural state, stood more like a loth-cat than any Human or Near-human Anakin spent time with. It was clearly sentient, so that ruled out many species like Wookiees, Trandoshans, Hutts, and Geonosians. There were no disturbing Montrals or Lekkus protruding out the top. It could be a Chiss he thinks, but truth be told, he didn’t pay much attention to their species during class time. Mirialan was a strong guess, as was Zabrak.
He tried and tried to remember any defining traits as his arm got weaker and weaker, but he couldn’t even tell you the difference between a Rodian and a Neimodian.
His thinking process was unexpectedly thrown off as the figure in front of him, tossed out an arm and threw Ahsoka and Kix backwards from where they were watching the fight with worry, the teenage landing gentler than he expected on the Clone Medic, who caught and cradled her before they hit the ground.
It didn’t matter that the two weren’t hurt, it was the intention that made Anakin see red. He didn’t know the exact race of the savage in front of him, but he knew it was no Human. No human would ever be so hateful, so beastly in their actions, that they would harm what was his .
“You despicable cur! I’ll cut you down like the primitive you are.” He screamed, moves getting sloppier as the animal he fought bounced in what appeared to be glee, happy at the reaction it caused.
Anakin noticed many Jedi watching the proceedings, trusting his skill but still keeping a wary distance if ever he should fall and the brute still stands.
It was a common action performed by Jedi throughout a padawan’s life, making sure the padawan was safe and wasn’t going to get seriously injured while dueling…
with….
their….
….Master.
Oh Force, no.
With the final realization in place, Anakin didn’t move out of the way for Obi-Wan’s final moves that swept his legs from under him, deactivated his lightsaber, catching it in midair, and punching him once again for good measure.
With the spiteful Knight down, Obi-Wan straightened his posture for the first time in the fight and stored all three sabers back from the ether where he got them.
Anakin’s dizzy head waited for Obi-Wan to rip the black mask he was surely wearing off his face, exposing the familiar beard and red hair he was used to. But, he must have blinked, as his Master’s face was suddenly in front of him, the usual features in place, no mask in sight.
Anakin expected an exhausted smile from their surprise practice, with the routine shared barbs they would throw at each other.
His final mistake.
He was unprepared for the downright pissed off and vindicated look on the Stewjon’s face.