Chapter Text
Obi-Wan and Anakin were opposites.
That’s, at least, what Obi-Wan believed. There were some opposing forces that were never meant to be combined and no matter how hard you tried to make them get along, their natures would never allow it. You would never manage to make oil dissolve in water. And of course, in this allegory, Obi-Wan was doubtless the pristine, clear water. And Anakin was the dirty and annoying oil.
If Master Qui-Gon could read his mind –something that, sometimes, Obi-Wan seriously suspected he could considering the uncanny way the older man was able to react to his repressed feelings– he would chastise him for being so petty and belittling over his agemate. For begrudging the Chosen One . But Qui-Gon couldn’t read his mind –at least he really hoped he couldn’t– so Obi-Wan could be petty and nasty towards Anakin all he wanted.
What his master didn’t understand was that it wasn’t Obi-Wan’s fault and that he certainly wasn’t the instigator. It was just a natural reaction, Anakin and he would never get along. The fact that Anakin was so annoying, arrogant, and overall unpleasant didn’t help the case. Neither did the fact that Anakin was as aware of their innate differences as Obi-Wan was, and he didn’t waste one opportunity on trying to get a rise out of him. But it was so unfair that it seemed that, whenever Anakin was the one starting the hostilities, he never got caught.
Obi-Wan didn’t know if it was sheer luck, if it was some kind of favoritism from being the Chosen One, or if it was Anakin’s ability to just know when he had to behave to not get rebuked by the Jedi Masters who overlooked their lessons. It was probably a mix of all of those- Anakin’s inclination towards mischief had always been one of his more prominent and annoying qualities. It was intolerable that he even managed to manipulate situations to look like it was Obi-Wan’s fault instead of his.
Yet Obi-Wan had made a resolution. He was near his fourteenth Name Day – one year older than Anakin, and he was close to presenting his second gender too. He was older and more mature and he would act like it. ‘ If he apparently enjoys getting a rise out of you so much, why do you still let him?’ that was what Master Che had told him, and despite Obi-Wan’s natural obstinacy … maybe she was right. He smirked, trying to contain his out-of-place smugness as he sat in a lotus position on the meditation mat. Anakin would be so mad when he realized that he couldn’t irritate Obi-Wan any longer.Obi-Wan was older and smarter- he would master his emotions and project only stoic serenity in Anakin’s infuriating bratty face.
He would have plenty of time to put his plan into practice, Obi-Wan bitterly mused. Despite Obi-Wan and Anakin’s differences and clear dislike for each other, their Master’s constantly made them train together. It made sense– Anakin’s Master, Dooku, was Qui-Gon’s former Master and something like Obi-Wan’s Great-Master. Maybe if Master Qui-Gon and Master Dooku didn’t insist so much in sharing their classes and their sparring sessions Obi-Wan and Anakin wouldn’t hate each other so much. Maybe if Obi-Wan didn’t have to withstand the constant praise showered on the Chosen one even hours after they had finished their official training, Obi-Wan wouldn’t feel so flawed and ridiculous whenever he failed to do a Kata others in his generation also failed to do but Anakin flawlessly performed .
Their personalities, despite their young age and immaturity, just constantly clashed yet also pulled them together and made them both want equally to fight or just get away. ‘ You dislike him because he’s a lot like you, Padawan’ his Master Qui-Gon had said, and Obi-Wan had been offended by such an allegation. Him . Being like rank, bruteish, inelegant Skywalker?
“You aren’t meditating , ” said the calm but stern voice at his side, making Obi-Wan flinch. He straightened his back, trying to correct his stance, but it was useless. Qui-Gon’s keen eye was impossible to run away from, and Obi-Wan always felt like he was under a microscope.
Obi-Wan was trying to figure out how to respond when the doors of the Dojo opened, prompting him to look up. At his side, Qui-Gon didn’t open his eyes nor stirred from his meditation position, unbothered by the presence of Master Dooku at the door. Obi-Wan noticed though that Anakin was nowhere to be seen.
“You were supposed to bring your Padawan with you, my former Master” Obi-Wan flinched at the teasing tone in Qui-Gon’s voice, his eyes flying towards Dooku’s flinty gaze and sour expression. Obi-Wan expected Master Dooku to say something cutting, maybe even for a verbal fight to break out due to his Master’s teasing.
“Very funny” was the only thing that Dooku answered, clearly unamused by both his former padawan’s words and his current padawan’s absence. Dooku then set his eyes on Obi-Wan, a warm and indescribable look taking over his features before continuing with his speech “He ran away because he didn’t want to shower, again ”
Obi-Wan grinned, a warm, out-of-place but inevitable feeling nestling in his chest as it always did when he heard of Anakin’s inadequacies as an apprentice. He straightened his back, took a deep breath, and tried to calm his feelings. Or at least, to not share them openly. Anakin, skipping their training because he didn’t want to shower ? Obi-Wan suppressed a scoff, trying to keep his stance as a good Padawan by mimicking his Master and closing his eyes, despite his thundering heartbeat making it impossible to fall into meditation.
But as if on cue, a few seconds later the Dojo’s doors opened again, and in walked Anakin Skywalker. Obi-Wan opened his eyes and took in the sulking yet prideful stance of the young boy, who was half a year away from turning thirteen. His hair seemed lank and oily despite the short bristly Padawan haircut. His skin was caked with days-old dirt, and he smelled .
“Padawan” Dooku greeted, unimpressed yet disappointed with the young boy’s appearance. Obi-Wan knew– it was something Master Dooku complained about quite continuously– about the supposed Chosen One’s aversion to showers. He also knew that Master Dooku would probably leave the scolding for later, too polite to bring up the issue in front of other people. Obi-Wan for a second hoped that he would lecture Anakin in front of him and Qui-Gon, but that didn’t happen. Instead, their Masters quickly gave instructions as to how to start their training.
Lightsaber training was one of Obi-Wan’s favorite subjects, but any joy and pride he had from when he was younger had been suffocated and squashed by Skywalker’s ugly, smelly feet. Whenever he stretched, Skywalker stretched further. If he did his rows of Kata’s almost to perfection, then Anakin would make them faster. Every time Obi-Wan thought he had accomplished something or demonstrated any measure of improvement, Anakin had already surpassed him. And despite the earnest sting of frustration below the surface, it mostly made him feel sad . Sad, and inadequate. As Anakin was praised by Qui-Gon on his stance, Obi-Wan aspired to keep his face as neutral as it always did.
After the warm-ups, Obi-Wan and Anakin had prepared for a round of sparring. Training lightsabers in hand, Obi-Wan tried to keep his face stoic and his stance proper as he assumed his position in the Dojo, passing by Anakin’s side and glancing down at him. The Tatooinian boy didn’t seem to notice it, his blue eyes cast where the Coruscanti rain poured outside.
Obi-Wan wasn’t only a year and a half older than Anakin, he was also a few inches taller and had been in Jedi training far longer than him. The fight should have been imbalanced against Anakin, it should have been difficult for the boy to keep up with him. What angered and distressed Obi-Wan the most about their training sessions was that Anakin not only seemed to be naturally gifted at lightsaber training, but he also seemed to be able to effortlessly surpass Obi-Wan in every aspect despite his young age and blithe nature.
Obi-Wan slipped into defense as Anakin smoothly flowed into a rapid series of strikes. Repressing the turbulent feelings that churned in his stomach, Obi-Wan kept fighting while trying to maintain his mind calm and his temper collected. He was older than Anakin and therefore wiser, and he should be better. Every Padawan was different and there was no competition among them– it shouldn’t matter that Anakin’s blows were strong and precise and that Obi-Wan found himself stumbling back.
Their masters interrupted their sparring once in a while, telling them to go back and start again at their opening battle techniques, giving different advice, and correcting their stances. The day wasn’t very hot, the cool rain falling upon the duracrete of the city and creating a damp chill in the air, yet Obi-Wan felt himself burning with exertion. His robes felt sticky, damp, and heavy. His hand was clammy from holding the saber’s handle with the force necessary for Anakin to not knock it out of his hand. Their sparring was pretty even, what Obi-Wan sometimes lacked in strength, he could compensate with technique. But he wasn’t the only one growing tired, his opponent was getting more and more erratic with every round.
At one point, Anakin slashed out at him, their lightsabers clashing together. Anakin tried to crowd him, his blue eyes shining with the hum of the lightsaber as he tried to force Obi-Wan back to a wall. Obi-Wan felt the push, the boy’s strength, and the obnoxious defiance and pedantry in that gaze that stared at him from below, the few centimeters of difference in their heights all the more prominent up this close.
Obi-Wan scoffed and shoved him back, making the smaller boy stumble back and growl, anger simmering in those young, cerulean blue eyes. It was an immature sound, just a mimic of extreme anger, but a string of something pulled inside of Obi-Wan at such a display of aggressiveness. Aggravated, Obi-Wan smoothly slid back in his defensive stance, the hairs on his nape standing on end.
Their lightsabers hummed menacingly for a second before Anakin lurched towards him again with a yell, his muscles tense and face drawn with a furious intense glare. Obi-Wan blocked the attack, trying to maintain balance as he stepped back as he received blow after blow from the young boy. His arms strained and were quickly getting tired from overuse, his muscles burning with every harsh hit from Anakin’s lightsaber.
He barely heard the chastisement from his master– or was it Anakin’s Master? he couldn’t really discern– telling them both to stop seeking to win so much, and to stop moving in only anger. Yet as Obi-Wan heard and assimilated those words, his brain buzzing and coming to a halt as he tried to listen and apply them, they only seemed to be the last straw at Anakin’s temper.
It all happened in a second– Obi-Wan managed to flip Anakin’s lightsaber out of his grip but as a smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth at his victory, Obi-Wan was suddenly tackled by the little boy, who growled in his ear and pulled him into a physical fight on the ground, pulling at his clothes and trying to scratch his skin.
Obi-Wan yelped, hearing the scramble of both their masters as they came forward. Anakin’s face was red from anger and shiny with sweat, his childish features twisted and deformed into a scowl that looked unnatural and feral. Obi-Wan tried to push him away and kicked at the boy’s back but a harsh tug at his hair, at his padawan braid, made him yelp with indignation. He was playing dirty!
“Padawans, stop right now!” that was definitely Qui-Gon’s voice, Obi-Wan thought distantly as one of his hands fisted in the tunics at Anakin’s shoulder and the other tried to contain the punches from Anakin’s right fist. He yelped, using all his strength to roll and pin Anakin under him and try to get the higher ground. But, with a growl, the boy was once again turning them back and perched on top of him. Obi-Wan couldn’t even finish processing what had happened when he suddenly felt the sharp pain of teeth digging into his right forearm.
He yelled, and in that same instant, a Force pull separated them. Obi-Wan scrambled back, tears in his eyes as he looked down at the marks on his arm, a few prickles of blood blossoming from where Anakin had bit him .
“You bit me!” he yelled with a watery voice, the pain throbbing in his arm. A pair of big hands lifted him up by the armpits roughly, and Obi-Wan suddenly felt very aware of the simmering anger and disappointment in the Force coming from his Master Qui-Gon behind him. Master Dooku was also at Anakin’s side, although he didn’t pick up the boy from the ground. He just stood silently, staring at the boy as Anakin looked away, hunching his shoulders and wiping the spit from his mouth.
“We will meditate about this, Padawan” Qui-Gon hissed, and for a brief moment, all the anger and indignation inside of Obi-Wan turned into fear and dread. For a brief second, he met Anakin’s gaze, whose cerulean eyes were cold and steely, before Qui-Gon dragged him away from the Dojo.