Omake: Emotion, Yet Peace
My heart was a low thumping beat - the drum something I counted out in my head, another useful mental exercise I'd picked up. Oxygen carried through my body, with the Force picking up the weight to make the process more efficient; cool air licked at my body and I attempted to ignore the way old scars tingled sensitively at the sensation. It was a real hassle nowadays, distracting my mind - the best of exercises were at times entirely futile nowadays. Back when I was just avoiding hordes of Sith Assassins, jumping from place to place with Surik. Well, those times were at least simple enough.
Responsibility was an entirely different card game that I'd still been struggling to adapt to. Dantooine was a haven for new Jedi wanting to learn, and while I'd been holding my own in my teachings, there was still so much more I didn't know. How could I teach others what I myself couldn't even claim to be altogether too special at? 'Ask Brianna,' had been a phrase I'd grown pretty comfortable with nowadays, even as it fought against the tiny hints of pride I'd slowly been building up. She knew most of the forms that Surik had taught, even if she excelled particularly with Makashi and Ataru; her lithe form allowed for some pretty impressive movements, and her efficient switch into Makashi let her dismantle just about any foe… Bao-Dur had disabused the notion that she was untouchable when he'd broken, shattered really, her entire style in front of everyone during a sparring match - Djem-So could be absolutely monstrous in the right hands.
Myself though? Well, I had a keen hand with Shii-Cho, gave me nice and ample adaptability to most situations, really great for large swathes of opponents. But it wasn't exactly something I'd clicked with. It was something that had been resolved by, funny enough, Mical of all people.
The man hummed lightly to himself, giving me a once over that I couldn't help but roll my eyes at. "Getting a good look?" I questioned, arms stretching out to give a proper showing of my, admittedly glorious, form. Waggling my eyebrows, Mical simply gave a frown that I'd chalked down to being minor amusement expression #7. My … friend is a stretch, but it's close enough, simply continued his analysis before clicking his tongue.
"A moment," he sped off at that, leaving me standing awkwardly within the archives, giving a likewise awkward nod at some passing trainees, who whispered amongst themselves in what they probably considered an entirely inconspicuous manner. Mical returned eventually with a dimly lit cube, tinged with blue and already open - it was an object the man had fiddled with considerably, given he was a large part on why we had full access to it.
"A Holocron?" I eventually questioned, to which Mical simply nodded.
"Arca Jeth," he said simply, as I raised an eyebrow at the statement. "A very well renowned saber practitioner - I don't believe you'll find a greater blademaster within the archives. He will most certainly be capable of assisting you in this manner." I'd considered the concept for a moment, before shrugging and snatching the artifact from his hands, walking out with a jaunty tune whistling out from my lips as I ignored the surprised sputtering that came from my colleague.
'Wonder how hard it'd be to sneak bantha dung in Mical's boots?' I questioned to myself, the shining of the Holocron casting the holographic image of an old wizened looking man above it. My muscles ached, and my face was surely turning purple - the man scoffed, his derision clear.
"You've been at this for just under an hour now - as a Knight, I could hold your pose for upwards of three days before exhaustion overtook me!" His scathing commentary wasn't something I was capable of responding to given the circumstances. He looked even more displeased when I remained silent; I idly considered the prospect of ditching the ancient relic in one of the Kinrath caves and seeing if he could just quietly disappear, before abandoning the concept - Mical would throw a hissy fit that just barely outweighed the pros.
Holding my breath had seemed simple enough, and Meetra had talked about the technique before, enough that I'd been able to get a basic handle on it fairly quickly. Doing some warm ups along with it, sure no big deal! Want me to do a backflip and not breathe? I'm your guy!
… channeling something as dangerous as Juyo without even the basic ability of expelling air from my lungs and taking in deep lungfuls of lovely, lovely oxygen? Well, it was a torture method not even the Sith had thought up.
The man grumbled, before speaking again, "Alright, up! That was two minutes of rest - back to your forms! Remember, Juyo relies on your natural anger and primal urges; it's a powerful channeling device, but you must exercise utmost caution when utilizing it. There is no certainty that you will avoid the lure of the Darkside when using such a technique, but these practices will give you absolute control over yourself, providing you with the inner focus that you'll need when you eventually avoid temptation." I cursed the lecture, rising to my feet as my saber lit again. We were surrounded by old obelisks, each one with rooted scars that went deep, but despite every clash my saber struck, they merely scratched the surface of the structures. Certainly useful for practicing, that was for sure.
"Begin!" I leapt outward with a silent snarl, the breath that still looped within my system rapidly getting more diluted and harder to circulate; it was a difficult exercise, to focus on the absolute control necessary in the emotional usage of Juyo, alongside the very distracting sensation of asphyxiating. Even so, Juyo resonated with me better than anything else I'd practiced before. It spoke well with a lot of deep seated anger that I'd pretty much considered long buried. Imaginary opponents danced within my vision, as I struck deep against the obelisk, anger beating against my shielded thoughts and just amplifying my physical movements. These motions went on for a few minutes longer, until again, the Holocron spoke.
"Enough!" He shouted, and my lightsaber unlit just as soon as he uttered his words - already my vision was darkening, "Breathe."
Sweet… oh so sweet oxygen. Oh how I missed you - to think I'd ever taken you for granted, please never leave me again baby, I'll treat you right from now on.
The long deceased memory of a Jedi chuckled harshly, "Good. Your focus has remained sharp. You're learning rather swiftly all things considered," he considered for a moment before speaking. "Alright. Take a breath, make it deep too! Next step is thirteen hours - get to it!"
Was it too late to hand in my resignation to the Order?
A/N
So, totally aware this isn't how canon Jeth really operates, but in this case it's intentional. It's not to make him completely OOC, it's honestly to show a different side of the training method - the darkside won't go easy and the Sith will find more than a few ways to psychology damage you mid battle. Jeth is intentionally heckling and unbalancing for the sole purpose of creating a more realistic environment for utilizing such a precarious technique. Wanted to throw that out there, he's still the same kindhearted man he is in canon.
