Anakin's muscles burned as he swung his practice blade through the air, the sound of its heavy arc filling the training room. His arms were sore from days of training, but his mind was clear. Obi-Wan had pushed him harder than anyone ever had before, and now, on his last day of the internship, it was time for one final test.
The early morning sun streamed through the windows of Kenobi's agency, casting long shadows across the floor. Anakin wiped the sweat from his brow, glancing at his teacher. Obi-Wan stood at the other end of the room, watching him silently.
"Are you ready?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice calm but expectant.
Anakin hesitated, taking a breath. The day before, he'd finally gotten the hang of Form V, Djem So. The aggressive, powerful stance felt right to him—it was a style that matched his temperament, his desire to charge forward and take control. But now, Obi-Wan wanted him to spar, to test everything he'd learned.
Anakin gripped his practice blade tighter. The familiar weight of it felt reassuring, but the doubt gnawed at him. He had never beaten Obi-Wan in a sparring match. Obi-Wan was the master, the teacher—Anakin was still learning, still struggling to keep up.
"Come on, Skywalker," Obi-Wan prodded, sensing his hesitation. "No use standing around."
Anakin met his gaze, his jaw tightening. "It's not fair," he muttered.
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "Not fair? How so?"
"I'm going to lose," Anakin said bluntly. "You're better than me."
Obi-Wan chuckled, a light smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You're learning, Anakin. You won't know unless you try."
"I'll still lose," Anakin insisted.
Obi-Wan stepped forward, the smile fading into a more serious expression. "Perhaps, but there's a reward at the end if you accept the spar."
Anakin's interest piqued. "A reward?"
Obi-Wan nodded, his eyes twinkling with that familiar gleam. "If you can last long enough to make me sweat, I'll consider it a victory. If you can surprise me, I'll consider it a reward."
Anakin couldn't help but scoff. "You're just going to throw a compliment at me when I lose?"
"No," Obi-Wan said, his voice calm but firm. "You'll earn it. Trust in what you've learned."
Anakin stood silently for a moment, the weight of Obi-Wan's words sinking in. The challenge hung in the air between them. He didn't like losing, but the promise of a reward—of Obi-Wan recognizing his effort, his progress—made him pause. He wasn't about to back down.
He squared his shoulders, ready for the match. "Fine. Let's do this."
Obi-Wan's smile returned, faint but sincere. "Good. Let's see what you've got, Skywalker."
Anakin stepped into his stance, his body shifting into the aggressive, forward-facing form of Djem So. The practice blade in his hands felt familiar, its weight now a part of him. He was ready.
Obi-Wan, on the other hand, slowly sank into the stance of Soresu, Form III. His body became a wall, his posture relaxed but prepared, his hands steady on his own weapon. He was the calm before the storm, the steady rhythm to Anakin's quick beats.
For a moment, the room was silent—two fighters, one prepared for the storm and one ready to unleash it.
Then, Obi-Wan made the first move. He was fast, his blade coming down in a swift arc toward Anakin's head.
Anakin reacted instantly, raising his blade to meet Obi-Wan's in a clash of steel. The force of the impact sent a jolt through his arms, but he held firm. Obi-Wan's expression remained unchanged, his focus unwavering.
Anakin gritted his teeth, using his footwork to push forward, pressing Obi-Wan back. The aggressive strikes of Djem So were designed to overwhelm an opponent, to force them into defense. Anakin wanted to push Obi-Wan to the edge—to make him feel the pressure of a real fight.
Obi-Wan's blade shifted effortlessly, each movement flowing with precision as he parried Anakin's strikes. His stance didn't change; it remained unshakable, centered. The force of Anakin's blows, no matter how powerful, couldn't break Obi-Wan's rhythm.
Anakin gritted his teeth, frustration building as he launched another series of attacks. He was fast, his body moving with the momentum of Djem So, but Obi-Wan didn't falter. Each strike was deflected, each thrust blocked with ease.
"You're trying too hard," Obi-Wan observed, his voice calm. "You're forcing the attack instead of letting it flow."
Anakin's teeth gritted. "I'm not letting up."
"That's your problem," Obi-Wan said, shifting his stance just slightly, still in Soresu. "Djem So relies on control, not just raw power. Let the attack come to you. Trust in your footwork and your blade. Don't force it."
Anakin took a step back, trying to steady his breathing. He wasn't used to slowing down. Djem So was about overwhelming the opponent, but maybe Obi-Wan had a point. Maybe he wasn't letting the fight flow.
"Focus," Obi-Wan said, his voice soft but firm. "Use your senses, let the rhythm of the fight guide you."
Anakin hesitated, letting the words sink in. The pressure of the fight still tugged at him, but now he tried to center himself. He felt the floor beneath his feet, the way his body was aligned. He allowed the tension in his muscles to ease, just a little.
This time, when Obi-Wan struck, Anakin didn't fight it. Instead, he let his body move naturally, letting the flow of the fight direct him. He didn't think. He didn't force the attack. He just reacted.
The result was immediate.
Anakin's blade met Obi-Wan's with a clean parry, and for the first time in their sparring match, Obi-Wan's stance faltered, just for a fraction of a second.
It was enough.
Anakin pressed forward, his blade sweeping in a fluid motion toward Obi-Wan's side. Obi-Wan parried again, but Anakin could feel the shift—his teacher was working harder to keep up.
"Not bad," Obi-Wan murmured, stepping back slightly to reassess.
Anakin grinned, adrenaline surging through him. "I told you I'd surprise you."
Obi-Wan's gaze sharpened. "That was good, Skywalker. But don't get cocky. The fight is far from over."
With a sudden fluidity, Obi-Wan launched another flurry of strikes. This time, his movements were faster, more intense. His Soresu had evolved into something more aggressive—more like Form IV, Ataru.
Anakin found himself on the defensive for the first time. Obi-Wan's strikes were relentless, each blow landing with a precision that Anakin couldn't match. His teacher's form was an unyielding defense, his blade moving with such grace and purpose that Anakin had to strain just to keep up.
The sound of clashing blades filled the room, echoing against the walls. Anakin gritted his teeth and stepped back, barely avoiding a strike to his side. He was learning, yes, but Obi-Wan was still the master. Every time he thought he'd made progress, Obi-Wan was already one step ahead.
"You can do better, Skywalker," Obi-Wan said, his voice full of challenge. "Don't stop now."
Anakin's breath came in quick gasps. He didn't want to disappoint Obi-Wan. This was his last chance to prove himself, to show that everything he had learned was worth it.
Taking a deep breath, Anakin readied himself for one final push.
Anakin's feet shuffled across the floor as he moved to block Obi-Wan's blade. His breath came hard, his muscles sore from the previous training, but he didn't relent. His focus sharpened with each strike, each movement a little smoother, a little faster. The match had gone on longer than he expected, but this time, he wasn't just reacting out of instinct. He was thinking, adjusting. And it felt different—more controlled, more natural.
Obi-Wan's eyes remained steady as he parried Anakin's blows, his own strikes deliberate but restrained. He was watching, waiting. After a few more exchanges, Obi-Wan stepped back, his blade lowering slightly.
"You've made progress," Obi-Wan said, his tone almost casual. "Not bad for someone who thought he was going to lose."
Anakin's arms were sore, his breath heavy, but he managed a tired grin. "You didn't make it easy."
"I'm not here to make it easy," Obi-Wan replied, giving him a small smile before stepping back further. "That's the point of a sparring match, isn't it?"
Anakin stood, steadying himself with a hand on his knee. "It's not really fair, though. I don't even have a real lightsaber."
Obi-Wan's smile didn't fade. "Fairness has little to do with this. You've learned more from this than you think."
Anakin wasn't entirely convinced, but before he could respond, Obi-Wan gave a slight motion toward the side of the room. He gestured to a small table with a cloth draped over something. Anakin raised an eyebrow, but he was too tired to ask questions. Obi-Wan walked over to it, his movements slow but deliberate.
"I promised you a reward, didn't I?" Obi-Wan said as he reached the table.
Anakin straightened up, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "A reward, huh? I guess I could use one."
Obi-Wan carefully unwrapped the cloth. What lay underneath wasn't what Anakin expected. It was a lightsaber, but not like the one Obi-Wan wielded. The hilt was sleek, with no visible kyber crystal. Instead, it was connected to a small, cylindrical casing that looked out of place. Anakin stepped closer, his curiosity piqued.
"This is yours," Obi-Wan said, handing the hilt to him.
Anakin held it carefully, inspecting the design. "What is it?"
"It's a lightsaber, of sorts," Obi-Wan explained. "Since I'm the only one with a real kyber crystal, I had this made for you. It's powered by a high-energy battery. It's not as strong as the real thing, but it'll replicate the blade—just a little weaker."
Anakin took a deep breath as he activated the weapon. The blade flickered to life, a blue glow that wasn't as bright as Obi-Wan's but still enough to feel familiar. He swung it through the air, testing the weight, the balance.
"This... this is awesome," Anakin said quietly, a hint of awe in his voice. He looked up at Obi-Wan. "It's not the same as yours, but it's close."
Obi-Wan nodded, watching him carefully. "It's a start. And you've earned it."
Anakin tightened his grip on the hilt, the weight of it grounding him. It wasn't perfect, but it was a step forward, a sign of progress. More than that, it was a reminder that Obi-Wan had placed his trust in him, even with a weapon that wasn't quite the real deal.
"Thanks," Anakin said, his voice a little more subdued. He glanced at Obi-Wan, who was watching him thoughtfully. "I'll make it work."
Obi-Wan smiled slightly. "I know you will. But remember, the blade doesn't make the fighter. It's what you do with it that matters."
Anakin nodded, feeling the weight of the hilt on his belt. He wasn't sure exactly what the future held, but with this, he felt like he was finally on the right path.
Obi-Wan gave him a small, almost approving look. "You're ready for more, Skywalker. But remember, it's not the weapon, it's the will behind it. The heart that drives you."
Anakin smiled, more confident than before. "I'll make sure my heart's in the right place."
Obi-Wan inclined his head, as if satisfied. "That's all I can ask."
Anakin glanced down at the lightsaber, then back at Obi-Wan. "I won't forget what you've taught me. I won't let you down."
"You already haven't," Obi-Wan replied simply, his tone calm but firm. "But the real work is just beginning."
Obi-Wan's words hadn't been full of grand promises or overblown speeches. They were simple, and that simplicity carried more weight than any flashy statement.
The training wasn't over, and neither was his journey. But for the first time, Anakin felt like he could face it head-on, without the weight of uncertainty bearing down on him.
With a final glance at his mentor, Anakin turned to leave the training room. Obi-Wan's voice followed him, calm and sure. "The real journey starts now, Skywalker."
Anakin paused, then turned back. "I'm ready."
A/N: He'll get a Kyber Crystal later down the line. For now though, he has a Disney light saber