Obi-Wan blocked the strike, but the strength behind the opposing lightsaber drove him back a step, knocking him off balance. When the other blade withdrew, so did he, backing away from it to get his balance back. He tripped over his own feet and went down.
It was all too familiar; the lightsaber fell from his hands and he twisted to try to catch himself, glad that at least he had been allowed to wear his thin training tunic this time. To his surprise, there was no pressure in the small of his back, no burn, and he got quickly to his feet.
"Are you alright?"
He stared at Master Zichri with incomprehension. The Master looked back at him, his own lightsaber powered down, a worried expression on his face. "Obi-Wan. Are you alright?"
"Y-yes," he stuttered, and looked down, searching for his fallen lightsaber. He picked it up. "I'm sorry," he said softly.
"For what?" the Master asked. "You're a growing boy, and I remember well how it is at your age, to be uncomfortable in your own body." He smiled reassuringly at him. "It's to be expected. Now, let's try that again."
With a hesitant nod, Obi-Wan activated his lightsaber again and found his stance.
This time, the form went without a hitch, and when they finished, Master Zichri turned off his lightsaber. "Very good," he said as Obi-Wan deactivated his own blade and bowed.
"Thank you," he said, still confused.
The Master paused a moment. "I was asked to make sure you regained the basic skills you seemed to have lost," he explained gently. "Today you have proved to me that you have done so. Your time with me is finished." He smiled, and Obi-Wan stared at him, stupefied. "You are to return here tomorrow," Master Zichri went on. "There will be someone else to continue your training."
"Why?" he asked, surprised that he'd spoken his thoughts.
"Because Master Jinn said you enjoyed working with the lightsaber," the Master said with a smile. "He requested that you be allowed to continue to learn, even though you don't yet have a Master to continue your training."
Obi-Wan bowed again, trying to hide the flush that crept up his cheeks. "Yes, sir," he said. "Thank you."
"Go get cleaned up."
The shower felt good, but he didn't have the time to linger. He had to meet Master Yoda.
To his surprise, it was not Master Yoda who waited for him. Instead, the tall, imposing figure of Master Mace Windu stood inside the room. Obi-Wan slowed, still out of reach, and paused in the doorway. Not that distance made a difference, he thought, watching the Master warily. "I'm supposed to meet Master Yoda here," he said, although it was more than half a question.
"You'll be working with me today," Mace said.
Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, Master." He stepped hesitantly into the room and made his way to where Master Windu waited for him.
Master Windu taught differently than Master Yoda. Obi-Wan struggled to follow his instructions, building a wall brick by brick instead of envisioning it complete. Still, the spikes reappeared when the shield was touched, but it seemed to take longer. Maybe he was imagining things.
By dinner he was exhausted again. When he was dismissed, he walked toward the door, wishing he could simply collapse where he was and sleep, and the memory of the white rug in the cabin - and missing it and the time spent there - made him want to cry. Qui-gon stood outside the door, and he halted in confusion.
"How are you doing, Obi-Wan?" the Knight asked.
Obi-Wan smiled wearily. "Better, I think. Thank you."
"Go have dinner," Mace directed him. Obi-Wan bowed to them both and went, catching a last glance of the two Masters meeting in the room. Bant smiled at him when he sank into the seat across from her in the food hall, but she seemed to see his exhaustion and waited until he'd cleaned half his plate before beginning to engage him in conversation.
He felt better once he'd eaten something, and suggested that they go swimming in the Room of Ten Thousand Fountains. Bant thought it was an excellent idea, and soon the two of them floated contentedly in the pool at the bottom of the falls.
"Is it getting better?" Bant asked. She swam more than floated, really, circling him with an ease of which he had long since given up being jealous. It was just not worth their friendship that she had been born a better swimmer than he.
"Depends on what you mean," he said lethargically. "I'm better with my lightsaber, and managed to get through all the forms today. I'm not sure what it means that I worked with Master Windu today," he added, but he was too tired to be concerned.
"You didn't work with Master Yoda?" She'd paused and floated near him in the water, one eye looking anxiously at him.
"No. But I don't know if it'll be a regular thing, or what." He sighed. "But I can't seem to get it right. They both told me I was trying too hard. How do you try too hard?"
She chuckled. "I don't know, but it sounds like something they'd say, doesn't it?"
He stared at her, then grinned. "Yeah, it does."
"How about your work in the creche?"
The good mood faded. He wasn't ready to answer her immediately, so he rolled over and dove into the water, enjoying the feeling of it in his hair, flowing past his body. He came up shortly and settled himself on his back again, and she joined him. "It's going better," he hedged. "I never realized how much little ones like to pull on things."
"Pull on things?" she asked.
"Like Padawan braids." He waved his at her, and it caused it him loose his balance. It took him a minute to find his balance again.
"Why don't you just tuck it into your tunic?"
Obi-Wan grimaced, then looked at her. "Master Sorin used to pull it all the time, to hurt," he said softly, and his eyes drifted from hers. "It felt sometimes like he would rip it off. And sometimes," he added, his voice dropping, "he'd pull that hard when I couldn't move. That was worse than when he hit me."
Bant said nothing, and he didn't dare look at her. "I can't be afraid of that." His voice was stronger, determined, when he continued after a moment of silence. "Master Elaida told me not to hide it, that it would help. The children pull on it, but they have no malicious intent."
"That's true," Bant agreed. "So it's getting easier to take?"
"Yeah...." His voice trailed off at the sudden unease he felt. His eyes were drawn to the top of the falls. Someone stood up there, probably a Knight, but he couldn't make out who it was. Only then did he realize how dark the lighting banks had become. Beside him, Bant's hands moved uncertainly in the water.
"Let's go," she said, and he could tell she was an uncomfortable as he was.
"Yes," Obi-Wan said, and they struck for shore. Wrapping themselves in large, warm towels, they left the room and started through the halls toward their quarters.
"What will you do?" Bant asked once they'd reached their floor.
"Keep studying. I mean, until I get sent to the Agri-Corps." It just slipped out. He was sure he was destined to study crops; he'd really messed up.
"Do you really think they'd do that?" Bant asked doubtfully.
Obi-Wan smiled at her. "Probably. I mean, after I've failed three Masters, who would want me? And how many second chances does a person really deserve? I had two." He shrugged. "But it won't be so bad."
He left her standing in the hall when he went into his room, knowing she didn't understand. In the light of the last two years, he wasn't sure he wanted to be Padawan again. Then the random thought he'd had in that cabin made him pause. What would it be like to be Padawan to someone like Master Jinn? He'd seemed kind, and fair, and certainly had never punished him for doing something wrong....
The laughter burst out of him, bitter. Of course he hadn't. What would be the purpose in that? The idea was for Obi-Wan to trust him. Another thought shook him, and the laughter stopped. He had been corrected. He remembered now the look Master Qui-Gon had given him when he'd smarted back to him, and it had been enough of a correction that he hadn't done it again. And not because he was afraid of being hit; he'd actually cared what the Master had thought of him.
He sighed and sank down on his sleep couch. It was all so confusing! He didn't know what to think any more.
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