Private To Be Strong

[Kyric]

Atrisia
Hirata Sanctuary
Inosuke Ashina

Snow blanketed everything around Kyric. It was almost a beautiful sight, if not for the irritating cold that clung to every inch of his body as he strode across the lawn. The promise of heat within proximity of the two burning braziers before him spurred the kiffar forward into the flickering orange light. Warmth washed across his body in tandem with the fire's glow. Kyric took a deep breath in relief and immediately winced as what felt like blades of frigid wind cut through his chest.

He started to regret leaving without giving himself time to recover in full.

A point the twins Talin Treicolt and Tansu Treicolt made one thousand times over amid his departure.

No part of him disagreed with the assessment. The exposure to that Sith Lord's life drain had nearly sapped away the entirety of the kiffar's life force. If he seriously expected to take care of the others while they were in his care, he couldn't fool around any longer. Kyric needed to grow. And to do that, he required help from someone specific.

A master.

A real one.

The kind that wasn't obligated to teach him due to their owing his father the kind of favors one never truly paid back.

Kyric eyed the entrance to the Hirata Sanctuary. It was one of the few times in their travels that BD-8, his father's droid, had nothing on their destination–a fact made even more bizarre given its connection to the New Jedi Order's enclave initiative. This made the outing all the more exciting.

Get it together. You're going in there to ask him how to help you not get dead, not to give you an autograph.

He rubbed his gloved hands together for warmth and slid them into his jacket pockets. It wouldn't do him any good to look the part of a fool right now. Kyric needed Inosuke to take him in as a pupil if he truly wished to grow with the force. Natural talent and recycled lessons would only get him so far.

It's now or never.

Kyric took one final breath and stepped inside.

 

[Inosuke Ashina]

Kyric
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​

Flames snapped and danced across the sanctuary hall's irori, bestowing a labored warmth throughout the chamber. Flickering shadows were cast across the woodwork, giving the quiet hall the illusion of liveliness. Skewered sweetfish sizzled over coals, wisps of smoke dancing around their descaled flesh as they were turned by a calloused hand. A kettle was placed on a hook above the blaze by the same hand, sending a sizzle through the air as excess water droplets evaporated off the exterior.

"Almost done," Goro Ashina announced softly, rising from one knee over the flames. Leaning on his cane, he glanced toward his nephew-made-seigneur, bushy brow furrowing at the sight of his turned back. "Hey, Inosuke, did you hear me?!"

Inosuke's concentration lapsed. "Yes, Uncle." He remained cross-legged, facing an old shrine to Ashla with the warmth at his back. A deep breath called his shoulders to rise, breaking his eerie stillness before settling back into his attempt at meditation.

Goro's cane struck hollow taps into the woodwork, an uneven tempo along his limping stride. "Where's that woman?" he asked.

"My wife."

"That woman," Goro reiterated, firm in his refusal. "Tell her to bring the children, there's enough here for everyone."

"They are elsewhere."

"Where?"

"Hera and Inara went with Henna. A teaching excursion, she claimed."

"And Ikuma?"

"The Ten-Thousand Waterfalls. You were told this already."

Goro thought for a moment. "So I was. My memory isn't what it used to be."

"I should remind you again not to defame my union," Inosuke mentioned, a hint of venom seeping through his teeth.

"With an outsider?"

"We are exiles, Goro. There is hardly a difference between us and 'outsiders'."

Goro scoffed. "You act more and more like him every day, you know?"

It struck a nerve, but Inosuke let it go for the sake of his focus. Ishida Ashina had made the same observation some years ago. It was just as vexing now, even if Inosuke was starting to see the reality himself. It was usually unlike an Ashina to be in denial, but few things were harder to accept. Genichiro's temperaments had started to rub off him from impossible distances. Henna Ashina had said something about the inevitability of becoming one's progenitors. Inosuke was never one to have a conniption, though this might prove the difference.

"What am I to do with all this food, then?"

A notion wriggled into Inosuke's precognitive sight; a vague flash of Karis and the growing image of Atrisia against a sea of stars. "Salt the excess, a visitor approaches."

Goro assumed it would be niece. He was wrong.

• • •
​

When Hirata's doors swung open nearly an hour later, Goro was on the other side ready to receive the visitor. Respectful countenance immediately gave way to a blatant, disappointed frown. Umbrage followed. "Inosuke!" Goro shouted, turning to march into the hall from the foyer. Before he could take a step was met with Inosuke approaching from the threshold. "First that woman, and now this? You assured me she would be the only one!" His Atrisian dialect was likely gibberish to Kyric, but the irritation was clear.

"Years ago. My assurances have changed since then," he declared. As the ostensible lord of Hirata, he was under no obligation, even to his elder.

Goro sputtered. "But he's-"

"Goro!" Inosuke raised his voice slightly. It was a rare occurrence, even unto his children. A lot was required to force his patience to waver, and Goro was a considerable frustration this evening. A glance signaled Goro to leave him with Karis, it was clear he would hear no more.

With a conceding breath, Goro nodded and departed from the pair.

"I apologize for my Uncle," Inosuke said, switching to Basic. "He is set in old ways." A half-asked gesture signaled Kyric to follow as Ashina returned to the hall where the heat had yet to dissipate. "Come."

 

[Kyric]

It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say Kyric expected near-endless possibilities immediately upon entering Hirata. He prepared for a duel. Stories he read about more traditional masters speak to their tendency to stage over-the-top challenges for potential students. He even prepared for the impossible–some test of wit that required him to look within the meaning of the challenge to overcome otherwise insurmountable odds.

Kyric did not expect such a blatant and casual display of racist hostility by the master's uncle. Unsure of what to say or do in such an event, the outsider coughed awkwardly into his gloved hand and stared straight at the ground.

You're such a pushover. Why didn't you say anything to him?

He maintained an even visage. Dad warned us he pissed a lot of people off in his life. I'm prepared to be treated like the worst of the worst if it means keeping the rest of you safe. A little bit of misinformed racism thrown my way? I'll be fine. Plus, I don't speak the language.

Goro's departure surprised Kyric. He expected the elder to be afforded special privileges for living this long, but the vagrant should've known better. Inosuke was his choice of master after all.

Unsure of what to make of his surroundings, Kyric dug his hands into his jacket pockets and followed after Inosuke. The complete lack of flashing lights and beeping droids felt strange–not wrong, per se, but different. Even the Treicolt homestead housed a steady and useful spread of technology. Walking through the Hirata Sanctuary felt like walking through a graveyard. He was surrounded by that which was already lost.

Kyric frowned.

A rush of warmth pulled the kiffar from his revere. "Thank you for agreeing to see me, Master Ashina. I understand this was rather sudden." Kyric tipped his head forward in a more informal bow. Part of him chided himself for not going with something a little more correct, but he wagered his host preferred this.

 

[Inosuke Ashina]

Hall doors closed behind them, hinges groaning slowly. A wooden thud heralded a quaint stillness accompanied only by the crackle and sway of an open flame. Heat rushed outward to occupy the void left by what had escaped in the foyer. The atmosphere was an agreeable contrast to the bitterness of Hebo's climate, achieved entirely without the modern systems one would expect.

Inosuke received the gesture and words of gratitude stolidly. "I foresaw Jedha would not be our final meeting," he assured Kyric, dispelling the notion of any suddenness. Crossing the small gap between a table and the irori, Ashina lowered himself to sit opposite Kyric. A pair of warm beverages steamed at either edge. Pescetarian foods accompanied them, each morsel meticulously presented in traditional Ashina fashion.

"My family is away, aside from Goro. You could not have picked a better time." As Hirata's keeper, Goro was an unavoidable constant in this place. A slow, fluid gesture invited the young kiffar to sit. The near-buffet before him would be another sign of his alleged good timing.

Steam fluttered around Inosuke's features as he indulged from a porcelain vessel. He would allow Kyric a moment before asserting a demand, "Speak." Inosuke knew he wasn't here for the cuisine.

 

[Kyric]

Kyric took his position as presented to him. In what could only be described as failing to stop an intrusive thought, he picked up one of the fish and sniffed it like an uncouth peasant. He set it down, allowed himself a single small sip of tea, and remained silent. When signaled to speak, he did.

"I will not waste words, Master. You have shown me great respect in inviting me here whether or not it was convenient for ye'." He lowered his head until it hung below his host's. "I ask that you take me on as a pupil and complete my Jedi training. My family, well, they did their best. Honest. But I wasn't ready then. I didn't take it seriously enough."

Any one of them had the skill, experience, and knowledge necessary to bring him through the process. Kyric knew that better than anyone. Maynard, Loske, Dagon, Auteme. All of them. He also knew none of them could bring it upon themselves to put the lightsaber in his hand. His father died for Kyric and his siblings to live a better life, but he felt differently.

This was the life he wanted.

The life he needed.

"I'm ready now."

 

[Inosuke Ashina]

It was hardly an audacious request, though the kiffar's incertitude was easily sensed.

"Are you?" Inosuke asked, the monotonous timbre of his voice taking on an inquisitorial edge.

Atrisia was a long way to come for someone unsure if they were ready, yet a subtle stench of doubt lingered. Any pupil of Ashina must be free of even subconscious demurral. This was true now more than ever, as the methods of the New Jedi had proved unavailing. The will of the Force knew no dubiety, its tools should be no different. It echoed the ancient lesson of the carp ascending the waterfall; even a small lapse in conviction could prove deadly. One the Jedi learned too late, with Tython festering beneath the Dark Empire's boot.

"I sense you harbor doubts. "

Likewise, he sensed the young Jedi's yearning for the path. Still, if Kyric was to be his mentee, even the slightest notion of hesitancy must be purged.

"Search your feelings, expel them." Ashina followed with a harsh ultimatum; "Evince zeal, or begone."

 

[Kyric]

"I cannot hesitate, Master," Kyric stated resolutely. "To delay any further will mean death." A tad dramatic, yes, but Kyric believed it to his very core. Jedha would only be the first of many battlefields.

This last year proved time and time again no matter where he went, or what he aimed to do, the Will of the Force could not be ignored. His father's legacy meant more than that to the galaxy. Countless sentients knew his father to be a hero. One who sacrificed everything to rid the stars of the menace Solipsis, yet he somehow clawed his way back up from the nether, and Kyric's father was nowhere to be found.

"If we're ever gonna have a shot at taking down Solipsis, we must destroy his champions. My dad gave it all when he sliced away the head of that freakin' snake," his words were laced with venom. "But it didn't work. We need to try something new, and I firmly believe this is it."

Kyric set his plate of fish to the side, carefully as to avoid losing anything. His tea followed suit, effectively freeing up a portion of the tatami mat before him.

"I would go so far as to beg, Master." He pressed both his hands and forehead against the mat in supplication. "Please." He pleaded. "I've never seen a force-damned thing through to the end in my life. That ends here, in Hirata Sanctuary."

 

[Inosuke Ashina]

"I cannot hesitate, Master. To delay any further will mean death."

Kyric didn't know it, but he had inadvertently cited the oldest Ashina axiom. It was a simple truth upon which every principle of Hebo's insular microculture was founded. Even the Ten-Thousand Waterfalls, with increasing distance from its Ashinic roots, taught this principle to foreign and endemic students alike. In the callous years of war, strife, and uncertainty that preceded this very moment, it had time and again kept Inosuke and his family alive.

Hesitation is Defeat.

Hesitation is defeat.

Hesitation is defeat.

This principle was absolute. Perhaps no pedigree in the galaxy understood it better.

"Stop this," Inosuke ordered, abhorring the kiffar's chosen method of petition.

It was clear he was desperate. Likewise, his supplication, no matter how abominable, made his genuine longing just as clear. Alas, the shortcomings he could sense were paired with a precariously clouded premonition. Bad signs all around. Luckily for Kyric, Inosuke had seen first-hand evidence of his merits. On Jedha, and beyond in the eyes of the mind.

Though he'd hardly evinced zeal as Inosuke had demanded, his drive was indisputable.

"Never beg," he commanded firmly. Aspirations meant nothing if they could only be fulfilled upon request.

Inosuke rose from his seat and strode silently to a door opposite the one they'd entered from. There was an expectation that Kyric would follow him. A large room, barren of furniture and chilled by thin glass windows on its western side.

"Know that the way of Ashina is to embrace death." Once at the chamber's midway point, Inosuke pivoted to face Kyric, sapphire blade exploding from his fist. "Prove you can see this through. Hesitate, and I will cut you down."

It could have been a bluff, a simple test, but the timbre of his voice resonated with the soul of a killer.

 

[Kyric]

Dammit. Kyric's hands tightened into fists as he raised his head from the table. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. He followed after the Jedi Master without any attempt at disguising his frustration.

When they crossed from one room to the next, Kyric met Inosuke's gaze. This was the test he was expecting. It was an unwinnable battle, the boy's inexperienced sword against that of the master. He wasn't expected to win. He was expected to act. But it felt wrong to know that. No amount of pushing himself up against the master would matter if his every intention was not to kill him.

And Kyric already failed.

He didn't belong here, either.

Gritting his teeth, the kiffar ran his hand along the hilt of his lightsaber. No, his father's lightsaber. It was a borrowed blade, one afforded to him like everything else in his life, a consequence of his father's heroics. A consequence of his death.

And here he was being given another handout.

The lightsaber surged to life with a snap-hiss, painting his half the room a brilliant emerald. He knew he should only go for the first strike and prepare for the inevitable counterattack. In his heart he knew he could not defeat him, but the kiffar stopped thinking. He stopped caring. He stopped trying.

His blade flashed for Inosuke's throat

Inosuke Ashina

 

[Inosuke Ashina]

Even as emerald death screamed toward him, Inosuke didn't move. His sharp gaze remained locked on Kyric, sensing outward for his intentions. There were precious few inches between plasma and his throat when he felt a sudden vacancy. No hesitation, no doubts, only a void of intent. It was exactly what he was looking for. Cerulean plasma flicked upward, stopping the nigh-fatal strike at what must have seemed like the last possible second. A riposting push sent emerald droning away through the cold air.

In the next instant, a sapphire flourish flickered around the master. It purred maliciously as it plummeted toward Kyric's neck. Just before it could snatch the life from the young Jedi's vessel, its momentum ceased. The blade murmured in the kiffar's ear, motionless and lacking volition. A hiss emanated, sending the energy retreating into the master's fist.

Failure wasn't predestined.

Even the heirs of Ashina struggled with this old principles at first.

"It is not easy," Inosuke said, validating the kiffar's frustration. "If Solpsis' blood machine is to be your quarry, you will need all you can learn from me and more. It will be onerous beyond any expectation you could fathom."

After all, the complete might of the New Jedi Order seemed to struggle even to compete. What was one kiffar, or one atrisian, to such an insurmountable foe? Nothing if they refused to endeavor for righteousness.

"If knowing this does not deter you, then you are ready."

 

[Kyric]

Kyric's attempt ended as quickly as it began. His blade turned wide by the master's parry could not be brought to position to stop the counterattack. Inosuke's blade swept through his non-existent guard toward his neck with lethal efficiency.

Then the blade stopped and Kyric could breathe again.

"It is not easy," Inosuke said, validating the kiffar's frustration. "If Solpsis' blood machine is to be your quarry, you will need all you can learn from me and more. It will be onerous beyond any expectation you could fathom."

Boy was that true.

"If knowing this does not deter you, then you are ready."

"I've never faced anythin' like this before," Kyric admitted without shame. "I'll see your trainin' through to the end, Master."

 

[Inosuke Ashina]

"I'll see your trainin' through to the end, Master."

"Good."

Inosuke's lightsaber recoupled to his belt, hidden behind the excess of his robes. Eyes strayed from Kyric as the master strode past and toward whence the two had entered.

"It begins at dawn," he declared mid-exit.

Atrisian doors slid shut, evoking a wooden echo across the empty chamber. The young kiffar was left in cold solitude. Perhaps he would reflect on the extemporized lesson he'd just received, or dwell on what he accomplished internally at the last possible moment.

No matter what he did now, Ashina would ensure his doubts died with the rising sun.