Jedi! Xanatos in charge of the 501st with Ahsoka as his Padawan.
“This,” Xanatos says with perfect conviction, “is going to be an absolute disaster, I can't believe you agreed to this.”
Obi-Wan looks pained, raising his eyes to the ceiling of the transport. “Believe me, Xanatos, it wasn’t my idea, but I can see the logic behind it. If the 212th and the 501st are going to be stationed together more often than not, their generals should be familiar with each other—”
“Oh, don’t try to be reasonable,” Xanatos says crossly, folding his arms over his chest and ignoring the amusement radiating from Obi-Wan’s commander. Cody seems delighted by the fact that Xanatos gives Obi-Wan a hard time. It makes Xanatos rather more inclined to kick Obi-Wan to the 501st and take the 212th for himself. The fact that that would mean Obi-Wan gets this apparent padawan as well is nothing but a bonus. “I was doing perfectly well infiltrating the trade guilds—”
“Yes, well, as valuable as I'm sure your brownnosing with Separatists was,” Obi-Wan says, cutting, “the only other option was to promote Anakin to Knighthood, and I couldn’t in good conscience support that, given what almost happened with the Tusken Raiders.”
Xanatos pulls a face, willing to allow that. If Feemor hadn’t been along as chaperone, things might have ended very badly indeed. Making Anakin a full Knight after that would be an equal disaster, and Xanatos supposes that falling on this particular sword isn't the worst possible outcome.
“My brownnosing secured us allies in seven sectors,” he says pointedly, and flicks his fingers. Obi-Wan’s hood leaps up, folds over, and wraps itself over his smug expression as he yelps.
Cody is laughing. Silently, helmet speakers muted, but Xanatos can feel it, and he winks at the man, then turns, coat flaring as the engines of the transport cut out. There's a call beyond it, and Xanatos leaps lightly down from the edge, putting a hand up to keep his hair out of his face as he surveys the ranks of assembled troopers. Only a single squad, but—given that they're in the middle of a warzone, that’s to be expected. Their armor is painted with deep blue, and the clone approaching has jaig eyes, which makes Xanatos raise a brow in surprise.
“Captain,” he says, crossing to dirt to meet him. “I heard about the loss of your commander. My condolences.”
There's a brief pause, and then the captain nods. “Thank you, sir,” he says, though there's a note of confusion in his voice. “He—deserted? Was that included in the report?”
Xanatos waves a hand, dismissing that. “Yes, of course, a valiant and dramatic escape from the strangling grip of the Senate, it’s fantastic. I hope more clones follow his example—”
“Xanatos,” Obi-Wan says, exasperated, and leaps down after him. “That is not the correct response—”
Xanatos rolls his eyes. “Baby brother,” he says, just for the way it makes Obi-Wan instantly start to bristle. “Are you supporting the slavery these men are subjected to—”
“Xanatos, shut up—”
The captain is laughing too. He ducks his head, half-turns to hide it, but Xanatos can hear the muffled snickers, and he gives Obi-Wan a haughty and superior smile. “You couldn’t make me if you tried, little brother.”
The narrowing of Obi-Wan’s eyes says he’s most certainly about to try. “You,” he says pointedly, “have a padawan to greet, and a new captain to torment. Do get on with it.”
“Torment? I believe you mean bless with my presence.” Xanatos flicks his hair back over his shoulder, then raises a finger, and Obi-Wan jerks back but is still an instant too slow as his entire cloak flips up to wrap around his head. He shouts in annoyance, and Xanatos smirks, then takes a few long steps forward to put himself out of range of any retaliation. And to fall in with his captain, which is a bonus.
“Your name, Captain?” he asks. “On the presumption that you’ve chosen one, of course.”
The captain casts him a sideways look, then reaches up. “Rex, sir,” he says, and pulls his helmet off.
Blond, Xanatos thinks, brows rising. How striking.
“Well,” he says. “Rex. For king, I assume? How fitting—”
His boots skid all on their own, and with a loud, undignified yelp, Xanatos sits down hard on his ass, then promptly gets smothered when his hood swallows his head and drags him down into the dirt.
“Obi-Wan!” Xanatos snarls, but before he can do more than grab the edge of his oversized hood, there's a cry. Running footsteps sound, and Xanatos shoves his hood back just in time to see a tiny Togruta girl plant herself between him and Obi-Wan.
“Stop it!” she says. “Don’t bully my Master!”
Oh, Xanatos thinks, like a revelation. She’s precious.
“Yes, Obi-Wan,” he says, maybe with slightly more glee than is appropriate. “How dare your bully your elder lineage brother, for shame. I thought Council members were supposed to be above such things.”
Obi-Wan crosses his arms, leveling a disgusted look at Xanatos. “Padawan Tano, good morning,” he says blandly.
“Uh,” Ahsoka says, lowering her fists. Xanatos loves her.
“Sir,” Rex says, and he’s grinning as he offers Xanatos a hand up. “I think you missed a spot.”
“Of dust? I'm sure I’ll get to it sooner or later, given the state of the war,” Xanatos says, and grips Rex's wrist, letting the man pull him to his feet. “Ahsoka, wasn’t it? I must say, it is a pleasure to meet you, padawan.”
Ahsoka turns, then instantly gives him a bright smile. “Master Du Crion! I got a tent sent up for you, and Rex and I were just about to go on a scouting mission when we got your comm.”
She’s wearing an akul-tooth headdress, and Xanatos raises an impressed brow. “Thank you, padawan. I see you are most helpful. What a blessing, when my only experience with padawans has been Obi-Wan’s disaster of a student.”
Ahsoka grins at him, all sharp teeth. Xanatos can already feel that they're going to get along swimmingly. “Padawan Skywalker? I've met him before!”
“I'm so sorry,” Xanatos says sincerely, and waves a hand at Obi-Wan as he makes a sound of deep offence. “Oh, sorry, Obi-Wan, was there something you wished to say?”
Obi-Wan gives him a scathing look, but steps back. “Best of luck, Xanatos,” he says, bland. “Try not to fall into another swamp full of predators. It would be such a shame if you got eaten.”
“I'm sure my dashing new captain will rescue me handily,” Xanatos says carelessly, and gives Rex a smirk. “Can I put my faith in you, Captain Rex?”
Rex coughs into his fist, and he’s grinning, the tops of his cheeks and the tips of his ears red. “Of course, sir. I’ll do my best.”
“I’m sure you will,” Xanatos tells him, then gets an arm around Ahsoka's shoulders, his other arm through Rex's, and sweeps them away, leaving Obi-Wan to stew.
"Full steam ahead, full of determination, and with only a sliver of a plan" that is the epitome of Ichigo right there. Loved the new chapter, and am really enjoying this fic
I’m glad everyone likes that break down of Ichigo so much!
Baby Tal'ika: Mace takes one look at this kid and kisses any peace goodbye
ohohohohoho let’s have some fun with this. I think it’s gonna be long, so I’m putting in a break
-----------
It took a grand total of three seconds for Mace to come to the conclusion that this was his future padawan, and another three seconds for him to come to the conclusion that he was never going to know another moment’s peace in his entire life. Really, it wasn’t hard. The tiny initiate was somewhere between adorable, achingly sad, angry, lonely, scared, and something else Mace had rarely, if ever, seen on a child their age: resigned.
They were resigned, and he could see it in their eyes.
They were also like a dying star in the Force, and already knew how to trick the perceptions of sentients to pass unnoticed and unseen, which brought him to the question of why someone had taught them that at an age when that was the last thing you wanted a youngling who was not supposed to go missing to know.
Mace felt a lot of things when he looked down at one Tal’ika Fox-Kenobi, and not all of them were positive, but they were all very, very sure. Confident. Aching, in their own way.
And the child just looked at him, set their stubborn jaw, and flopped down on the grass of the Room of One Thousand Fountains before reaching up with one tan hand to grasp his own.
“I want to meditate,” they announced, and Mace felt something in his heart ache, because what child their age wanted to meditate?
“Alright,” he agreed, and sat down with them. “But can we speak first?”
They were old, but they had also been raised by a Jedi. And apparently a whole cluster of clones, but that was neither here nor there. So, realistically, they were a youngling, and didn’t need to be initiated into the Jedi, but they also needed to be verified. For a lot of reasons. The way Qui-Gon had brought Anakin into the temple had been a hot mess, ignoring a variety of regulations that were in place to protect a prospective initiate, spouting off about prophecies and things that a child shouldn’t have to worry about, but Anakin had been a lot of things. And Tal’ika had been a lot of things, too. He wasn’t going to do this in the council chambers, which were big and terrifying for someone so young. No, the fountains were a far safer place, far more secure and less scary.
“Yes,” Tal’ika replied, but they hadn’t let go of his hand. Raised by clones, indeed. They were probably used to contact, and constant contact, at that.
“Alright,” he said slowly, and let his big hand lay out on his knee so they could trace over the lines in his palm and pick at his calluses. “You can’t answer wrong, so just be honest with me, and I will be honest with you. Is that fair?”
Tal’ika paused, tilting their head in consideration as they looked for loopholes in that statement, before they nodded, firm and sure.
“Yes. That’s fair,” they decided, firmly, with confidence that made his heart sing. This was a child that was young, and well adjusted, and well loved, for all the turmoil he sensed in them.
“Thank you,” he said seriously, because he always made a habit to thank young ones. “Can I ask you about where you’re from?”
“A ship,” they replied. “The last one blew up, so Cody called help, so we’ve been on the Havoc Marauder.”
Okay, that was concerning. Mace knew that name. No wonder Tal’ika already bit three people. He couldn’t even blame them.
“Not on a star destroyer?” He hedged out, and they scrunched up their nose as they turned his hand over to trace the curves of his fingers.
“Why would I be on a star destroyer? Plo saved me from the Empire, why would I be back with them?”
The what now?
“Why did he save you?” He asked, and they looked up at him like he was stupid.
“Because they killed people like me,” they replied, like it was obvious. “They killed you.”
“I see,” he said seriously, as something uncomfortable settled in his gut. “How did they manage that?”
“You tried to arrest the Emperor, and then he killed the whole council and the Order and threw you out a window,” they replied and frowned. “You don’t take care of your cuticles, Master Windu. That’s not healthy. Plo makes a good cream for cuticles.”
“I’ll be sure to ask him for it,” Mace promised, because Plo did make good cuticle cream, and was constantly harassing Mace in that polite way about how he kept leaving his cuticles cracked and bleeding, and that was a bit easier to focus on than the whole Order being killed. “How long ago was that?”
“Uh... thirteen years? I think? I wasn’t born yet. There’s chips in my bavodu’e’s heads, and they had to kill you. Plo likes to kidnap them so he can take them out. He even taught me how! It’s fun. Better than staying on the ship, anyways,” they responded and rubbed at his cuticles with a little furrow in their brow. “Your cuticles are a mess.”
“My apologies. I’ve been too busy to take care of my cuticles,” Mace said, because they were really liking to circle back to the cuticles. Chips? What on earth? “Tell me about how you’ve been living.”
“We have to travel around a lot, on account of me and the bavodu’e being Impir-icle property that stole ourselves,” Tal’ika responded and shifted their little fingers to start pushing back the offending cuticles. “And Plo is supposed to be dead, so they’re pretty mad about that. He’s very proud that he keeps making them mad. He won’t say it, of course, but he’s very proud.”
“Who do you live with?” Mace prompted, and Tal’ika sneezed. He didn’t even flinch at the flying bits of snot that splattered his hand. They had at least tried to do it into their arm, and they wiped his skin off with their sleeve before going right back to getting his cuticles presentable.
“Uh... Right now, we have Plo, Wolffe, Sinker, Cody, Rex, and we just kidnapped Gregor. Oh! And the Bad Batch. Echo is teaching me how to slice, and Hunter gave me a knife, and Crosshair taught me how to make a headshot. Cody was upset about that. Actually, Cody is upset about everything everyone is doing, because the Bad Batch are ‘gremlins’ and are making me ‘too feral and competentent’. Neyo just left, to join the Rebellion, and he took Thire with him, because Thire keeps getting sad about me, and Neyo didn’t want him to be alone. I think I made him sad, too. But they might be sad because Bly just marched on. He didn’t do well when we took the chip out and got sick. I mean, not sick like when I get a tummy ache, but sick like he didn’t want to get out of bed and just stared at the wall all day. He wasn’t doing well, and then he was gone, and Neyo was trying to take care of him, but Rex said sometimes other people aren’t enough to make you better.”
Mace knew Commander Bly, and the casual hints being dropped that Tal’ika didn’t fully understand was making his stomach sink in his gut. Empire, Order dead, chips that made the clones kill their Jedi, Plo kidnapping clones to take the chips out... It painted a morbid picture for Bly, and a morbid one for Aayla, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to confront the picture in the presence of a child.
“Sometimes people aren’t enough,” he agreed, as careful as he could manage, and Tal’ika looked at him with the big amber eyes he’d seen a million times.
“Is that why Plo is sad?”
“... Yes. That’s why Plo is sad,” because even now Plo was sad, and Mace hated to see it. He couldn’t imagine how Plo would be in the aftermath of a very morbid future Tal’ika was painting. “Can you tell me how Plo is teaching you?”
“Everyone teaches me,” Tal’ika replied dismissively, and went back to pushing back his cuticles. “But Plo and I do meditation in the morning. And before bed. It’s a little hard, with how everyone is sleeping on top of each other right now. Not much room. Lots of people. I have to share a bed with Echo and Tech, cause we’re the smallest. We do a lot of exercises, and he teaches me things.”
“Like how you hide,” Mace supplied, and they nodded firmly.
“Yeah. And the Code, but they also teach me the Resol’nare. Plo lets them, though, so long as I understand how to follow the Code.”
It would seem that in the aftermath of devastation, what few clones left were clinging to the Mandalorian diaspora. He didn’t know how to feel about that. Did that make Tal’ika the second Mandalorian Jedi in history? Force, that was going to be a headache when they got older.
“And your regular studies?”
“Uh...” Color rose in their cheeks. “Leia says they are ‘un-or-tho-dox, but Tech says they’re re-le-vant.”
In hindsight, he shouldn’t have expected much from a half feral Jedi youngling raised by some of the most unorthodox clones he had ever heard of. Cody was wonderful, but he had met Captain Rex, and he knew for a fact their educational modules had to be a hot mess. And then Plo had gone and tossed them in with the damned Bad Batch. Granted, it sounded like he was desperate, given the previous ship blowing up, but the very thought of Tech getting his hands on a hyper intelligent Force sensitive child’s educational requirements was headache inducing.
Yes, the Temple was going to be better for them. Much better for them.
“Can we meditate now?” Tal’ika asked, their voice barely pitching into a whine, and Mace decided he’d grilled them enough. The picture they painted was a bleak future, where the survivors fought for what little happiness a hard galaxy could afford them. And, well, he still had to accept them into the temple, and he had to actually examine their Force core in order to do that.
He knew they would pass, of course, just as sure as he knew they would be his. It was a quiet, uncomfortable confidence in his gut that he hadn’t felt since he first laid eyes on Depa, but this was going to be his padawan, Obi-Wan and Plo be damned.
“Yes. Of course. May I--- Oh.”
Tal’ika had simply climbed to their feet and plopped right between his crossed legs. Right. Raised by clones. Of course Plo would indulge their tactile nature in meditation, and of course they were still young enough to get away with it.
Tal’ika’s spine straightened, and then they breathed out, their eyes slipping shut as they crossed their legs to balance on his calves. Mace just came to the conclusion that this child was forceful, possibly a little too forceful, but there was little harm in it. They evidently had a good head on their shoulders, and far be it from Mace to ever tell a little one no. So, he just balanced his hands on his knees and relaxed into a meditation with their warm back pressed up against his chest.
“Do you need me to walk you through it?” He asked, and they firmly shook their head no.
“No. Plo says it’s time for me to start doing it on my own,” they replied firmly, and Mace’s lips twitched in a smile. Of course they were going to be advanced. This was a Kenobi child.
“Alright. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
They were so firm, so sure of themselves. He didn’t think they’d ever heard a disparaging word from someone in their life, and he was quietly glad for it. There was nothing that gave him greater hope than a young child who knew exactly who they were and what they wanted, a child who had never once been given room to doubt themselves and their needs, who expressed things firmly and aggressively without a hint of shame. It was a good thing.
Slipping into meditation was as easy as breathing. Their little back pressed against his chest, and he followed each breath as they sunk into the Force together, their Force signatures tangling together as they steadily dropped their shields to share with him. Mace let them drift, cataloguing and categorizing the conflicting emotions that had risen up within himself and setting them aside. Anger was there, and pain, and confusion, and fear. How could he not be afraid? They had essentially spoken of genocides, of the clones and the Jedi, and this was his home. His family. He was the Grand Master of the Order, and he had evidently failed it in their time.
He would have to do better.
Tal’ika was still at an age where they needed a little help, and Mace set to the task with an age-old comfort as he helped them identify the emotions in their body that was too damn small for the burning Force presence that engulfed them. They were angry, and they were terrified, despite the cool exterior. They had communicated as much as they could, but someone, namely Plo, had evidently taught them extensively about when words weren’t enough, the Force would suffice. No wonder they had been so demanding about meditation. The fear of all the changes and confusion was a roiling core, and Mace nudged along at their shields, coaxing them into letting them down so he could help.
They did, easily, with only the trust of a child, and Mace hummed as he reached out to touch that fear and press forward with comfort and reassurance. Letting go wasn’t enough, sometimes. It took awhile to learn, and they were far too young to have it mastered. Being validated was important, too, and he made sure to acknowledge the fear and uncertainty overtaking them. It was only natural.
Inch by inch, they let go of the fear, and he buffeted them with warmth and acceptance as they did. The trust of a child was always an overwhelming sort of thing, and he couldn’t help but wish he could spend more time with younglings. It was a lot easier, even with time-traveling post-apocalypse younglings. Adults got wrapped up in their emotions and consumed by them. Younglings, though, did a lot better with letting comfort be comfort and fear be fear and anger be anger. They didn’t mix things up, took anger for safety and fear for a shield.
After helping them detach from their fear and pain and loneliness, which they let go with surprising swiftness, he spent a little time nudging along their shields and examining who the Force was telling him they were. Tal’ika Fox, the child of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard, was a lot more than their lineage. Sifting around, he could see that they were kind, at their core, not at all like their father, who Mace knew never hesitated to cut someone down if they stood in the way of justice. No, this was someone who would hesitate, and at any given opportunity. However, interspersed with that kindness and desire to help was an unsteady nature. No, even unstable, which could be attributed to the cloning techniques used to make them. Or perhaps they had been engineered to be more aggressive and unbalanced. He wouldn’t put it past the Kaminoans. Plo had been apparently doing his damned best to prove the difference in nature versus nurture, though, given how Tal’ika had just demanded meditation when they felt like they couldn’t keep it together for much longer. As they got older, they might need real medication to help balance them out, but for now they could do their best to balance them out in the temple and their upbringing.
Compassion was there, too. Boundless compassion, and forgiveness, which was going to be a given, given their Plo’s apparent proclivities for kidnapping and yanking control chips out of clones’ heads. They’d probably been shot at a fair number of the clones they’d saved, and probably had been scared by a good amount of them, but here they were. All of the tenants of the Order so entrenched in their being.
Yes. They would be fine for the Jedi.
It was almost nice, sitting in the grass with them on his lap, taking this meditation so seriously, serious as a heart attack. He could feel their single minded focus, and it brought a sense of fondness to the whole ordeal. He needed to do this more often, probably after he solved the problems presented by their little time traveling initiate. He almost lost track of time, just letting the Force flow around them as he let his mind drift, emotions rising up and being set to the side, correcting nudges given whenever their attention began to focus. In fact, he did lose track of time, right up until the moment someone cleared their throat behind him. He hadn’t even felt Ponds come up, more focused on fixing Tal’ika’s posture.
“Commander,” he said as he opened his eyes. Tal’ika let out a quiet noise of frustration at the interruption, and he patted them on their shoulder.
“You told me to collect you for the briefing, sir,” Ponds said, and Mace ignored the mild amusement radiating off the man at the sight of his general with a mini Obi-Wan in his lap.
“Well, we’ll have to drop Initiate Tal’ika off at their creche, first,” he replied as Tal’ika climbed to their feet and straightened their robes, which they seemed to be deeply displeased to be wearing.
“I can take myself,” Tal’ika declared, and Mace cringed at the thought.
“The last time you ‘took yourself’ to the creche, you ended up in the restricted section of the Archives with a lightsaber that did not belong to you,” he replied, and Tal’ika paused.
“Well, if you don’t want your weapons to go missing, you shouldn’t leave them laying around just anywhere,” they sniffed. “Cody told me Obi-Wan was always leaving his saber everywhere, so I was really doing a good deed. For Cody.”
Ponds was physically restraining himself from laughing, and Mace was just infinitely glad he had no bad habits, because he wasn’t sure he’d survive the humiliation of Tal’ika helpfully correcting his.
“I’m not sure Obi-Wan would agree with you, Tal’ika,” he said gravely, and Tal’ika crinkled up their nose.
“That’s because he doesn’t know what’s good for him, Master Windu.”
“Sir, you are going to miss the briefing,” Ponds cautioned, and Mace leaned over to pick Tal’ika up and set them on his hip.
“I’m the Grand Master of the Jedi Order. They can wait,” he replied, and Tal’ika snorted.
“That’s abuse of power,” they said, very seriously, like they had heard it many, many times before.
“We all have our vices, Initiate Tal’ika,” Mace replied, just as seriously, and Tal’ika took his face in two very small hands to turn it to them so they could look him directly in the eye.
“I don’t.”
Ah, yes. Their apprenticeship was going to be a nightmare. Mace couldn’t wait.
“You wanted my attention, here I am.” Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at Commander Fox who stayed placidly behind his desk.
“You think I want a Jedi trudging through my offices?” Fox’s tone was even, his mind tightly shielded, but Obi-Wan didn’t let that chase him away.
Instead, he set his datapad down in front of Fox, planting his hands on either side of it and leaning over until their faces were much closer. “You’ve refused every last request that’s come in with my name on it. And, yet, the exact same one from Commander Cody? From General Skywalker or Captain Rex? Accepted.”
“Perhaps they’ve made changes that you didn’t notice in your current distraction.”
That made Obi-Wan pause. He wasn’t sure what Fox was trying to accomplish, but now he had to wonder--had he been distracted? Had there been something from Fox he’d missed recently? It had taken a few weeks for him to realize what was happening with the requests and then think of a way to check.
A quick wave of his hand had the door behind him closing and locking. Fox stood reflexively, unused to casual Force usage and seeing only a potential threat.
“My dear Commander,” Obi-Wan hurried to say, keeping his voice gentle, “I have never meant to neglect you. I was dealing with fallout from one of Anakin’s adventures that I couldn’t put in any official reports.”
For a moment, nothing, and then Fox quickly typed some message on his own pad. Obi-Wan braced himself to be dismissed or, worse, carted off by some of the Guard. When Fox came around the desk, he straightened, but kept his body language relaxed--if he was about to be arrested, he wasn’t going to make some scene about it.
For your winged Obi fic, putting in a vote for the happy ending. Looking forward to when Anakin realizes what he's putting Obi-Wan through, and looking forward to when the 501st gets protective of little Obi. I'm really enjoying it so far!
Thank you so much! I’m glad that you’re liking it.
I’m really looking forward to writing all of this! This fic is really just self indulgence.
“Whenshould we leave?” Deku asks. There’s a little tremble in hisvoice—nota scared tremble (of course not) but an excited tremble, asif this is any other adventure in the woods.
For old light still shines through (adore the title btw), does everyone have the potential for flames? The reason that it seems to have died out could be a)destruction of families like Vongola who had the knowledge and b)people turned to Quirks in life or death situations so Flames were never reached for. So, if you're going that route, maybe there could be other Quirkless people activating their flames... maybe I'm completely off track. Anyway, love your fic, looking forward to the next chapter
thank you! :D
that’s actually basically what I was thinking! people rely on Quirks in life and death situations instead of reaching beyond that for Flames, and the knowledge of Flames has been lost -- but I also got the impression from KHR canon that Flames were (relatively) rare. afaict Flames weren’t super prevalent in the mafia; it was mostly vongola/vindice/giglio nero/millefiore/cavallone that had them, and they all either had trinisette rings themselves or were closely associated with people who did.
...on the other hand, that doesn’t really explain people like the Arcobaleno, who had extremely powerful Flames, which is why Checkerface chose them. an exception to the rule?
still, it is interesting to consider the idea that other Quirkless people might have access to Flames, but the way I was working with it was that it was rare enough before Quirks that there’s not a significant increase in people who use Flames after Quirks start coming in. though, people who were diagnosed as “Quirkless” might have accessed Flames and simply accepted them at face value as a Quirk that came in late. Izuku only knows that it isn’t a Quirk because he has Tsuna’s ghost in his head.
I adore Cody and Fox in the waking/rising update. They're such good supports for each other, and it's awesome when you have characters that will absolutely call each other on their shit. And the absolute trust that they have in each other, Wonderful!
And Fox is such a BAMF in this fic, omg. With killing Vader, surviving escaping from an exploding shuttle, catching Ferus... I'm swooning.
Lol it feels like Fox has run out of fucks to give and has just let himself go completely feral.
It's also really interesting that everyone is assuming that Cody has to be Force Sensitive. It makes sense, but its gonna make the eventual identity reveal that much more shocking and satisfying. Like, Ferus is thinking that Fox and Cody are the most dangerous beings in the galaxy, and he's right, but not because of any special powers.
Anyway, tl:dr, wonderful update!
Fox has absolutely let himself go feral, and it’s a liberation for him and a complete terror for everyone else around him.
xD As is probably apparent at this point, I love the idea that willpower and determination can overcome any fancy powers and beat even the worst enemy, and Cody and the clones have that in spades. But with the rest of the galaxy not having any idea about what was done to them, the vast majority of people are going to default to the idea that Palpatine just got ganked by a more powerful Force-user. Which is going to so fun when the reveal happens.
