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Chapter 14 - Chapter 13 Are you curious just how close we were?

It was this shared passion for machines—and our complementary skills—that had cemented our friendship so long ago. We had been close since our Padawan days, a bond that held firm until the Clone Wars tore the galaxy apart. I still hate that war for what it did to us. It robbed us of our time together. I often wonder... if I had seen him more often, if we hadn't been separated by distant fronts, perhaps I would have noticed the darkness taking root. Perhaps I could have done something.

But that is a ghost of a past long gone. There is no use in "what-ifs."

Are you curious just how close we were? Let's just say I was one of the few people Anakin ever trusted to touch the internals of his personal astromech. He treated that droid better than most people treated their own kin, so that should tell you everything.

We were, and are, kindred spirits. It was only natural that we'd pick up where we left off.

For my sixth birthday, I asked for a full set of professional tools. My parents gave me a look I can't quite describe, but they bought them. I also inherited my father's old smartphone when he upgraded, which gave me the computing power I needed to start my hobby in earnest. I scavenged the rest—spare parts from abandoned appliances and discarded tech.

It took time, of course, since I had to balance it with my other duties. But finally, the droid was finished.

"...Alright. Looking good."

I finished the diagnostic and nodded in satisfaction. At my feet, the ball-shaped droid let out a series of melodic electronic chirps. It rolled smoothly across the hardwood floor, occasionally hopping with a playful bounce. I'd coated the exterior in a soft rubber compound, so it wouldn't scuff the house.

The droid beeped a greeting to me—its creator—and then spun around to "look" for Anakin. Since it couldn't actually see his spirit, it ended up facing a completely random direction. It then pulsed a query: Who is my primary charge? To the untrained ear, it was just "beeps and whistles," but to a mechanic, it was a clear, structured language.

Binary. Droidspeak. It's harder to learn than a spoken tongue, but any decent mechanic eventually picks it up. Anakin, of course, could hold a full, fluid conversation with an astromech as if he were speaking Basic.

"Not bad at all," Anakin said.

"Yeah. Every standard on this planet is so different from the Republic's that it was a nightmare to calibrate... but the result speaks for itself."

I smiled down at the droid as it nuzzled against my leg (I'd modeled its personality matrix after a domestic dog). I shared a nod with Anakin. For a scrap-heap build, it was a triumph.

"Alright, follow me. Let's go introduce you to Mother."

Testing complete, I led the droid into the living room. My father was at work—being a high-ranking religious leader apparently involves a staggering amount of overtime. I made a mental note to be extra kind to him when he got home.

"Mother?"

"Yes, dear?"

My mother, who had been playing with my younger sister, looked up. Her eyes immediately landed on the rolling sphere at my heels, and her expression shifted to one of pure confusion.

"Mother, this is a childcare assistance droid I developed. I built it to help lighten your load around the house."

On cue, the droid let out a cheerful trill. I began to explain its features one by one.

"...Koto... did you... did you really make this?"

"Yes. Well... Anakin helped a little with the theory, but I did the assembly and programming."

I stopped when I saw the look on her face. Through the Force, I felt a tidal wave of bewilderment and shock.

Ah. Right. I'd overdone it again.

I suppose I should have realized that a six-year-old designing and building a functional robot from scratch wasn't exactly "normal." But in my mind, this was a strategic move. I wanted this to support my case for grade-skipping. I wanted to finish my compulsory education as fast as possible.

In this world, the most efficient way to get a Hero License—which would give me the legal right to use the Force for peacekeeping—was to attend a specialized high school. But that's years away. If I could prove I was a genius now, I could bypass the fluff and get to the real work sooner.

"I told you so," Anakin said, sounding exasperated. "I told you to make it look like a toy, not a droid."

We'd argued about that during the design phase. I'd insisted that my knowledge of "Earth life" was superior and pushed for a more functional build. I was wrong. It turns out that when it comes to understanding social norms and "playing the part," I'm still no match for Anakin.

"My apologies, Master."

"Well, it's not all bad. It'll help with the grade-skipping, I'm sure. But expect a lot more people to start poking their noses into your business."

"...I'll manage. Consider it a trial."

"You Jedi and your 'trials.' It's a bad habit, I'm telling you."

"I... have no comment on that."

As I watched my mother frantically call my father to tell him the news, I sat down and began playing with my sister and the droid. My grade-skipping was, as expected, immediately confirmed.

One step closer to the stars.

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