Pain.
Then cold. Then a distant voice.
Not a Force echo. Not a chakra signature. Just... a shriek. Sharp. Tiny.
Wait—was that me?
My first thought was: Please, not again.
My second: Did I just get isekai'd into a Mandalorian baby?
The air was sterile. Metallic. The language wasn't Basic—at least, not modern galactic.
Mando'a.
I couldn't understand much, but I caught a phrase: "Ni kyr'adyc, ni partayli, ni taab'echaaj'la."
Not dead. Not forgotten. Just forging forward.
Yep. Mandalore.
I sighed internally. Last I remembered, I was a shinobi in another life. Chūnin? Jōnin? Hard to say. I had memories from Earth too—that version of me was a total Star Wars geek. Knew everything from Canon and Legends. All those hours reading Wookieepedia during physics class paid off.
Now I was in Star Wars.
As a baby.
On Mandalore.
With chakra.
And ice in my veins.
Literally.
I don't remember much of the first two years—just that my name became Kama Vizla, an adopted foundling of Clan Vizla. My parents died in a border skirmish, apparently. Sad backstory: check.
But by age three, I realized something was very wrong—or right, depending on your perspective.
While other kids threw pebbles, I was making snowballs in summer. Indoors. Without water.
"Kama! Stop freezing the rations!"
"I didn't mean to!" I yelled, hiding my hand behind my back, frost evaporating from my fingers.
The clan's elder, Ba'ar Vizla, thought I had some freak genetic quirk. Or a curse. He even tried to send me to a shaman. That ended with me accidentally sealing his pet narglatch into a soup pot.
Don't ask.
By age five, I confirmed what I feared: I had the Yuki Clan's bloodline. I could manipulate water and wind chakra to create Ice Release. Which meant chakra was real in this universe.
Even worse?
The Force was real too. And I wasn't Force-sensitive. Probably for the best—imagine how fast Sidious would sniff me out if I could do both.
But I did have something else: chakra control. Years of muscle memory and reincarnated instinct made it easy to mold chakra. I was sealing acorns and lizards into jars before I could even write Basic.
I also discovered that charka + beskar = extremely interesting accidents.
Like that time I used a sealing scroll to hide a blaster rifle. The scroll exploded. For three days the smell of fried bantha wouldn't leave the barracks.
By age seven, I had a working kenjutsu form—heavily inspired by Leaf sword styles, blended with Mandalorian discipline.
I trained alone in a hidden ice cavern I shaped myself using Hyōton. That's where I found it.
The crystal.
Not a normal kyber. No—this was ancient. Buried in permafrost. Radiated a chill even to my chakra-hardened hands.
I meditated with it for days.
Visions came. Old Sith. Dying Jedi. An ancient battle on a snow-covered planet I didn't recognize. And a whisper.
"Power in stillness. Power in silence. Power in the frost."
I named it the Permafrost Crystal.
It wasn't just cold—it was pure clarity. Unrefined. It hummed when I focused my chakra into it, resonating with my Ice Release.
I smirked.
"Perfect for a chakra lightsaber."
And so began my greatest project yet: forging a charka-conductive saber with a permafrost kyber, housed in a beskar-ice alloy blade. Not a Jedi saber. Not a Sith weapon. Something else.
Something mine.
Funny side note? The clan kids nicknamed me "Snow Brat."
One time I froze Ba'ar Vizla's jetpack mid-flight. He crash-landed in a mud pit. Said it was a "training exercise." I said, "Sure, old man. Training your dignity, maybe."
He didn't talk to me for a week. Worth it.
But the galaxy wasn't staying quiet. Whispers of Jedi on Naboo. A Sith Lord lurking. The Republic rotting from within. I knew the timeline.
I had about 18 years before the Clone Wars.
I planned to change everything.
With ice, steel, and seals.
And maybe… just a bit of sarcasm.
End of Chapter 1