The sandstorm howled against the Skywalker home like a living thing.
Wind screamed through the narrow alleys outside, hurling grit against the walls in steady waves. Inside, the small dwelling glowed warm with low lights and the hum of power couplings. Shmi moved carefully between the table and the cooking unit, setting out bowls of simple stew and flatbread.
Padmé sat quietly, hands folded in her lap.
Qui-Gon stood near the doorway for a long moment, listening to the storm, feeling the Force coil and press against the edges of the room.
And Anakin Skywalker remained seated, helmet on, hands resting loosely on his knees.
K2-S0 stood motionless behind him like a silent statue.
HK-47 occupied a corner near the wall, optics dimmed, processing.
Shmi gestured gently.
"Everyone, please. Eat while it's warm."
Padmé rose first.
"Thank you, Shmi."
She took a bowl and hesitated, then glanced toward Anakin.
He hadn't moved.
She tilted her head slightly.
"Anakin… aren't you going to eat?"
The boy shifted.
The mask turned toward her, visor reflecting the room's soft light. His voice came through filtered and mechanical, calm but faintly distant.
"I'm not all that hungry."
Padmé frowned.
"You should eat. You've been working all day."
Anakin gave a small shrug.
Before Padmé could press further, Qui-Gon spoke gently.
"We're guests here. We shouldn't question how others choose to be comfortable."
Anakin's helmet angled toward him slowly.
"Jedi would be the first ones to judge."
The words landed softly.
But they carried weight.
The room went quiet.
Even HK-47's servos paused.
Qui-Gon studied the boy.
"Sharp," he said mildly. "What gave me away?"
Anakin didn't hesitate.
"I could tell."
Qui-Gon's brow furrowed.
"Tell how?"
Anakin's fingers tightened slightly.
"You don't walk like normal people. You don't breathe like normal people. And the Force feels different around you."
Padmé's eyes widened.
Shmi immediately stepped forward.
"Anakin," she said gently. "Please."
The boy lowered his head a fraction.
"Sorry."
Qui-Gon regarded him with new intensity.
"You can feel the Force?"
Anakin didn't answer.
Shmi placed a hand on her son's shoulder.
"Forgive him," she said softly. "He's a shy boy."
Her gaze lingered on Qui-Gon.
"And he's… the last of his kind."
Padmé looked up.
"What do you mean?"
Shmi hesitated.
Then spoke carefully.
"His people were hunted."
Qui-Gon felt something cold slide through his chest.
"Hunted?"
Shmi nodded.
"Long ago. Almost forgotten now. They looked different. Felt different. The Jedi feared what they didn't understand."
Anakin remained perfectly still.
"They were wiped out," Shmi continued quietly. "Anakin is all that's left."
Padmé swallowed.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes briefly.
Then opened them.
"I'm sorry," he said.
His voice was sincere.
"The Jedi Order has made many mistakes."
Anakin's helmet tilted slightly.
Qui-Gon met his gaze.
"I hope you won't judge me for them," Qui-Gon continued. "I am not like the Jedi of the past."
Anakin considered this.
"You say that," he replied. "They probably did too."
Qui-Gon let out a slow breath.
"That's fair."
Shmi squeezed Anakin's shoulder once before returning to the table.
They began eating.
Padmé took small bites, watching Anakin from time to time. He didn't touch the food. Instead, he sat quietly, listening, absorbing.
After a few minutes, Qui-Gon spoke.
"You build podracers?"
Anakin nodded.
"Yes."
"Your own?"
"Yes."
Qui-Gon leaned forward slightly.
"I saw the one in the yard outside."
"That's mine."
Padmé blinked.
"You built that?"
He nodded again.
"Mostly."
Qui-Gon studied him carefully.
"Is it fast?"
Anakin nodded
"It'll be faster when I finish recalibrating the thrust injectors."
Padmé smiled.
"That doesn't sound like something a nine-year-old usually says."
Anakin shrugged.
"I like engines."
"If you need parts," he said after a moment, "Watto won't sell them cheap."
Qui-Gon nodded.
"We're aware."
Anakin hesitated.
Then spoke again.
"I could race."
Padmé looked at him sharply.
"What?"
"I can win," Anakin said simply. "Boonta Eve's coming up. The prize money would cover your hyperdrive and more."
Shmi turned toward him instantly.
"Anakin—"
He met her eyes.
"I'm careful."
She shook her head.
"No, you're brave. That's worse."
Qui-Gon studied him.
"You've raced before?"
Anakin nodded
"Every year."
Then Anakin turned his eyes down, hesitating.
"I just, kinda, never finished before."
Padme's eyes widened.
"How do we know you can win then?"
Her voice carried more worry than speculation.
qui gon raised his hand, trying to calm the uneasy girl
"Anakin is our only hope for her majesty to reach Coruscant. All we can do is trust him."
This seemed to calm Padme. She nodded.
"Im sorry for doubting you, Anakin."
The masked boy shrugged.
"I wouldn't blame you for doubting me, it's natural."
"You believe you can win."
Anakin nodded once.
"Yes."
Qui-Gon closed his eyes briefly, reaching out with the Force.
What he felt nearly staggered him.
The boy was a storm held in stillness.
Light and shadow braided together.
Power coiled deep beneath layered restraint.
Not merely strong.
Ancient.
Qui-Gon opened his eyes.
"If you do this," he said slowly, "it has to be your choice."
Anakin didn't hesitate.
"It is."
Shmi looked away.
Her hands trembled.
HK-47 turned his head slightly.
"Observation: Organic maternal unit displaying elevated stress indicators."
Shmi ignored him.
Padmé reached across the table and gently touched Anakin's forearm.
"You don't have to risk yourself for us."
Anakin looked at her.
His voice came softly through the mask.
"Someone once took a risk for me."
She didn't know what to say to that.
Later, as the storm raged and the lights dimmed, Qui-Gon stood alone near the doorway again.
He could feel the Force moving.
Shifting.
The prophecy echoed faintly in his thoughts.
A Chosen One… born of no father…
But the Force around Anakin Skywalker felt different.
Not purely light.
Not purely dark.
Balanced.
Waiting.
The Jedi spoke of balance as harmony.
The Sith spoke of balance as dominance.
The Force itself offered no explanation.
Only inevitability.
///
The storm had passed sometime in the early hours.
By morning, Tatooine lay quiet beneath pale sunlight and drifting sand, as though the desert itself had exhaled.
Inside the Skywalker home, Anakin sat on the edge of his narrow sleeping mat, helmet still on, elbows resting on his knees. He hadn't slept much. He rarely did when strangers were nearby.
K2-S0 stood watch by the doorway.
HK-47 shuffled about the small kitchen area, assisting Shmi with mechanical precision.
"Statement: Mistress Shmi, your stew contains an inefficient sodium balance. Recommendation: increase seasoning by fourteen percent."
Shmi smiled tiredly.
"Thank you, HK."
Anakin tilted his helmet slightly.
"Don't poison the guests."
"Correction: My previous poisoning attempts were entirely accidental."
"That's not comforting."
HK-47 paused.
"Statement: It should be."
Footsteps approached outside.
Anakin felt Qui-Gon before he saw him.
The Jedi entered quietly, hands folded inside his sleeves.
"Good morning."
Shmi nodded.
"Good morning."
Padmé remained seated at the small table, sipping water. She offered Anakin a soft smile when she noticed him watching.
Qui-Gon hesitated for a moment.
Then turned toward Anakin.
"May I speak with you?"
Anakin stood slowly.
His mechanical voice answered.
"…okay."
They stepped outside into the sunlight.
The air was cool, carrying faint traces of ozone from the storm.
Qui-Gon studied the boy more closely now.
Even masked, Anakin's presence was overwhelming. The Force curled around him like a sleeping animal.
"I'd like to run a small test," Qui-Gon said gently.
Anakin stiffened.
"What kind of test?"
"A blood sample. Nothing painful."
Anakin hesitated.
His fingers flexed.
"Why?"
Qui-Gon met his visor.
"Because I've never felt anything like you."
That earned a quiet, filtered exhale.
"…people usually don't say that in a good way."
Qui-Gon's expression softened.
"I don't mean it badly."
Anakin was silent for several seconds.
Then:
"…fine."
Inside, Shmi watched anxiously as Qui-Gon prepared the analyzer.
Anakin extended his hand.
The device pricked his finger lightly.
He didn't flinch.
Qui-Gon placed the sample into the scanner.
The machine hummed.
Numbers began to scroll.
Qui-Gon leaned closer.
His breath caught.
He stared.
Once.
Twice.
Then recalibrated the device.
Ran it again.
The same result appeared.
His voice dropped.
"That's not possible."
Shmi looked up.
"What?"
Qui-Gon didn't answer.
He activated his comlink.
"Obi-Wan."
Static crackled.
Then his Padawan's voice came through from the ship.
"Yes, Master?"
"I'm transmitting data to you. Run an independent analysis."
A pause.
"Receiving."
Seconds passed.
Anakin stood quietly, hands clasped in front of him.
Padmé held her breath.
On the ship, Obi-Wan stared at the scanner in disbelief.
"…Master."
"Yes?"
"The count is reading thirty-four thousand midichlorians per cell."
Qui-Gon closed his eyes.
Slowly.
"That's… impossible," Obi-Wan continued. "Yoda's count is barely over twenty thousand."
Qui-Gon opened his eyes and looked directly at Anakin.
The boy stood still.
Silent.
Waiting.
Obi-Wan's voice shook slightly.
"This would make him… stronger than any Force-sensitive ever recorded."
Qui-Gon ended the transmission.
The room felt suddenly very small.
Padmé looked between them.
"What does that mean?"
Qui-Gon didn't answer immediately.
He knelt in front of Anakin.
Lowered himself to the boy's level.
His voice was careful.
"Do you know what midichlorians are?"
Anakin nodded.
"They're microscopic lifeforms that connect living things to the Force."
Qui-Gon blinked.
"You already know that?"
Anakin shrugged.
"I have a good teacher."
Qui gon ushered the slice of information away, remembering to ask Anakin of his teacher some other time.
Then asked quietly:
"Have you always been able to feel things before they happen?"
Anakin hesitated.
"…yes."
"See events in flashes?"
"Yes."
"Sense emotions?"
Anakin nodded again.
Shmi stepped forward.
"He's always been different," she said softly. "He doesn't talk about it much."
Qui-Gon stood slowly.
His expression was distant.
Reverent.
Troubled.
"You are unlike anything I have ever encountered."
Anakin tilted his helmet.
"That doesn't sound good."
Qui-Gon almost smiled.
"It doesn't sound bad either."
Padmé clasped her hands together.
"So… what is he?"
Qui-Gon took a breath.
"There's an ancient prophecy," he said quietly. "About one who would bring balance to the Force."
Anakin shifted.
"Balance how?"
Qui-Gon hesitated.
The Jedi spoke of balance as harmony.
But looking at Anakin Skywalker, he felt something else entirely.
This wasn't light overwhelming dark.
This was something that could contain both.
"I don't know," Qui-Gon admitted.
Anakin's voice came softly through the mask.
"Figures."
Shmi placed her hand over her heart.
"He's just my son."
Qui-Gon turned to her.
"I know, but your son has the potential to become the most powerful being in the galaxy one day, and with it, dangers follow."
A silence followed.
Then Anakin spoke.
"You're wondering if I'm some kind of weapon."
Qui-Gon met his gaze.
"I'm wondering what you'll choose to become."
Anakin considered that.
"…right now, I just want to free my mom."
Qui-Gon nodded slowly.
"That's a good place to start."
Later, after Qui-Gon stepped outside to think, Padmé sat beside Anakin.
"You okay?"
He nodded.
"People usually don't react well to numbers."
She gave a small smile.
"You handled it better than most adults would."
He glanced at her.
"You don't seem scared."
Padmé shook her head.
"You're still just a boy who builds engines and worries about his mother."
He was quiet.
"…thank you."
Far away, aboard the ship, Obi-Wan Kenobi stared at the data again.
Thirty-four thousand.
His hands trembled slightly.
He whispered to himself:
"What are you?"
///
Morning on Tatooine came quietly.
The storm had scrubbed the air clean, leaving the sky pale and wide. Sand still clung to rooftops and power lines, drifting lazily in the light wind. From behind the Skywalker home, the soft whine of repulsors echoed as Anakin worked on his podracer.
He knelt beside the engine block, sleeves rolled up, cloth wrappings visible at his wrists and neck. The helmet was off now, replaced with a hood and layered fabric that concealed the red of his skin. Grease streaked his gloves. Tools lay neatly arranged beside him.
K2-S0 held a stabilizer strut in place.
"Master Anakin, structural integrity has improved by fourteen percent."
Anakin tightened a coupling.
"Good. That means it won't explode when I push it past limits."
HK-47 stood nearby, holding a power cell.
"Statement: I still believe that increasing velocity beyond manufacturer specifications is statistically irresponsible."
Anakin glanced at him.
"That's because you were designed to survive wars, not podraces."
HK-47 processed this.
"Clarification: That explains much."
Padmé stood a few steps away, watching with interest.
"You really built all of this yourself?"
Anakin nodded without looking up.
"Started with a junk frame. Replaced half the parts. Rewrote the stabilizer logic."
She crouched beside him.
"That's incredible."
He shrugged.
"It's just mechanics."
Qui-Gon joined them, hands folded behind his back.
"Do you need assistance?"
Anakin hesitated.
Then nodded once.
"Hold that cable steady."
Qui-Gon obeyed.
Padmé smiled faintly.
She liked moments like this — quiet, ordinary. They felt rare lately.
K2-S0 adjusted position.
HK-47 rotated slightly to maintain a defensive perimeter.
For a few minutes, the galaxy felt almost peaceful.
Then Qui-Gon felt it.
A ripple in the Force.
Sharp.
Predatory.
Anakin felt it too.
He froze.
His hand snapped to the tool tray.
In one fluid motion, he spun, drawing a small vibro-knife and throwing it without even turning fully.
The blade vanished behind him.
A metallic clang rang out.
Someone caught it.
Everyone turned.
A tall armored figure stood at the edge of the yard, holding the knife between two fingers.
Jango Fett.
His helmet was off, scarred face calm, eyes sharp.
Behind him, Aurra Sing leaned casually against a support strut, pale eyes gleaming with amusement.
A massive shadow loomed nearby — Skud, the Gendai, standing perfectly still.
Black Krrsantan stepped forward from behind them, towering, fur bristling slightly.
And Aiylan Fett broke into a grin.
"Squirt!"
She rushed forward.
Anakin barely had time to straighten before she grabbed him and lifted him clear off the ground.
"Aiylan!" he protested through his filtered cloth around his head. "Put me down!"
She laughed.
"You get taller every time I see you."
She set him back on his feet and ruffled his hood.
"I missed you."
Anakin crossed his arms.
"You always do this."
"And I always will."
Aurra smirked.
"Aren't you two just the cutest, like a little brother being smothered by his older sister."
Anakin ignored her.
Qui-Gon subtly shifted his stance.
These weren't random spacers.
These were killers.
Skud's gaze flicked briefly toward Padmé and Qui-Gon, then away.
Black Krrsantan moved beside Anakin and picked up a heavy engine casing without effort.
A low growl sounded out from the dark wookie.
Anakin nodded, the young boy understanding the Wookie, thanking him for his help.
Jango stepped forward.
He extended the knife back to Anakin.
"Still throwing like you mean it."
Anakin caught it.
"Don't sneak up on me."
Jango chuckled.
"That's kind of my thing."
Then his gaze shifted to Qui-Gon.
His hand rested casually near his blaster.
"Mind telling me why a Jedi is standing in the kid's workspace?"
Anakin spoke quickly.
"They're friends."
Jango raised an eyebrow.
"Friends."
Qui-Gon stepped forward.
"I'm Qui-Gon Jinn."
Jango studied him.
Then shook his hand.
"Jango Fett."
Their grip was firm.
Measured.
Professional.
Jango nodded toward Anakin.
"Boy's talented."
Qui-Gon inclined his head.
"He is."
Jango glanced back at Anakin.
"I knew his birth mother."
The words hit softly.
Anakin went still.
Jango rested his hand on Anakin's shoulder
"She was strong."
A pause.
"She'd be proud."
Anakin looked down briefly.
Then returned to tightening bolts on his racer.
Aurra leaned farther onto the pod.
"So what's the plan, squirt? Racing again?"
"Yeah."
"Watto letting you?"
Anakin shook his head.
"No."
Jango smirked.
"Then what?"
Anakin glanced at Qui-Gon.
"He's going to tell Watto the pod's his."
Qui-Gon blinked.
Padmé stared.
Jango laughed.
"Bold."
Qui gon nodded.
"The plan is to enter the pod under my name and have Anakin race for me. Watto seems intent on not selling us a part for our ship, so Anakin has offered us help.
Aiylan grinned.
"He's a good kid when he wants to be."
Black Krrsantan rumbled softly in agreement.
Skud remained silent.
Watching.
Measuring.
Jango studied Anakin for a long moment.
"You running because you want credits," Jango said.
Then more quietly:
"Or because you want freedom?"
Anakin didn't answer immediately.
"…both."
Jango placed a hand briefly on his shoulder.
"Win."
Then he stepped back.
The bounty hunters began to depart, Aurra casting Padmé a curious look as she passed.
"Careful with him," Aurra said lightly. "Storms follow that one."
Padmé swallowed.
Jango paused at the edge of the yard.
Without turning, he said:
"You take care of him, Jedi."
Qui-Gon answered simply.
"I intend to."
They vanished into Mos Espa.
Anakin exhaled slowly.
Padmé looked at him.
"They're… intense."
He nodded.
"They're family."
Qui-Gon watched the horizon long after they were gone.
The Force felt heavier.
Threads were tightening.
Lines were being drawn.
And Anakin Skywalker returned to his podracer, wiping grease from his gloves, preparing to gamble everything on speed and fate.