There is a presence in this school—someone with a remarkably thick shroud of the Dark Side around them. Perhaps it's because I've finally begun to understand the Dark Side, but once I noticed it, I couldn't un-see it.
From a peacekeeping perspective, being able to sense a potential "Dark-Sider" is a good thing. Such individuals are prone to causing trouble. But finding such a concentrated aura in a middle school was... concerning.
There was a second, even stranger problem: the malice within this darkness was incredibly thin.
I wouldn't say it was absent, but it was faint—almost non-existent. I could feel the "dark" power, but none of the traditional "evil" that usually accompanies it.
How was that possible? Wasn't the Dark Side fueled by malice?
"Your assessment is right. Our little Dark-Sider doesn't have an ounce of traditional malice in her," Anakin said casually after I brought it up.
I tilted my head, unable to wrap my mind around the concept. "Can a Dark-Sider even exist without malice?"
"True 'zero-malice' is rare, but this happens more often than you'd think. The most common example is someone who believes their actions are an absolute justice—they don't doubt themselves for a second. Another example... though it's rare... is when harming others is actually that person's way of showing affection."
"...What?" I stared at him blankly. "I don't follow."
"I mean exactly what I said. Human beings are a diverse lot; some of them are just wired differently."
"Is that so...?"
"Jedi don't get many chances to meet people like that. And even when we did, we didn't exactly stick around to get to know them. We captured criminals; we didn't judge or rehabilitate them. That wasn't our job."
"I suppose that's true."
If someone had walked up to a Jedi Knight and said, "I attack people as a sign of love," they would have been promptly arrested and handed over to the local authorities. A Jedi's time was stretched thin across dozens of star systems; we didn't have the luxury of playing therapist.
Wait. That sounds... remarkably similar to the situation of the Heroes on this planet.
"These people are a tiny minority," Anakin continued, pulling me back to the conversation. "The world is a difficult place for them. They spend every day being forced to adhere to values that contradict their very nature."
Anakin trailed off, his eyes drifting as if looking at something far away. It was a nostalgic, almost weary look.
"There are always people who can't be 'normal.' I saw them on Tatooine, and I saw them in the Underworld of Coruscant."
"Coruscant had them too? You seem remarkably well-informed."
"I have a unique background, remember? And during my time as a Sith, I made it a point to inspect the far corners of the galaxy. I've seen the fringes."
"The voice of experience," I muttered. I didn't want to think about what a "Sith inspection" actually looked like.
"For what it's worth, Obi-Wan used to interact with people like that to gather intel. He didn't go as deep as the Underworld, but he was a familiar face in the worker districts."
"Why is it that everyone from Master Qui-Gon's lineage is so unconventional?"
Now that he mentioned it, I remembered my old superior, Master Jocasta Nu, being furious with Master Kenobi for a while. He had apparently valued the memory of a common citizen over the official records in the Jedi Archives. As it turned out, Kenobi was right—the data had been deleted by Count Dooku—and the Archives became a war zone of paperwork for weeks. Master Nu eventually apologized.
"We're getting off track," Anakin said. "That's the answer to your question. Any others?"
"No. That's enough for now. Thank you, Master. That was educational."
My curiosity was satisfied, but my concern remained. Even if she lacked "malice," someone with that much darkness was a ticking time bomb. I had to prevent a disaster.
I began to investigate the source of the shadow.
The girl's name was Himiko Toga. She was a third-year student. I needed to understand the nature of the veil she wore as quickly as possible.
At first glance, Himiko Toga seemed perfectly integrated into school life. She smiled often, had a healthy circle of friends, and was buried in the mundane rhythm of a normal teenager. There was no sign that she was involved in anything illegal.
But through the lens of the Force, her smile was hollow. It felt like a mask—a beautifully crafted piece of porcelain. And beneath it, I felt a surging, boiling desire to hurt others. According to my research, she hadn't committed any crimes yet, but the "flavor" of her darkness suggested she had been suppressing these urges for a very long time.
Because of my own inexperience with the Dark Side, I couldn't see the specifics of her desire. But I could feel that she didn't want to cause pain out of hate. It was exactly as Anakin had said: this was her version of "love." I noticed that she would often stare at the nape of a certain male student's neck with a heavy, viscous intensity. She didn't look at anyone else that way.
The problem was that her shroud was growing. The restraints she had placed on herself were fraying. It was only a matter of time before they snapped.
I couldn't just walk up and tell her "stabbing people is bad." I'd look like a lunatic. She was still an "innocent" student, after all.
I considered building a micro-drone with a camera to monitor her, but then a thought struck me: Wait, is this illegal?
"I can't say for certain, but yeah, that's a one-way ticket to a voyeurism charge," my father told me when I asked.
"If there's a justified reason, the law is flexible... but your only reason is 'Koto's Sixth Sense,' right? That's a tough sell. We could go to the Public Safety Commission, but that opens a whole different can of worms..."
I figured as much.
In the Republic, the Jedi were allowed a certain degree of "extra-legal" leeway because the society recognized the Force and the Jedi's role as a deterrent. People knew what the Force was, even if they didn't understand it.
But here, I'm just a middle schooler. The Force isn't a recognized concept. I have no authority. Monitoring her from the shadows was off the table.
So, what was left? I could watch her in person, or I could close the distance.
"If it were me," my father said without hesitation, "I'd try to get close to her."