The Hidden Truth

Master Mirmo was the first of the knights and masters to take an apprentice from my class of students. He took me much earlier than anyone else, and as I hear some say behind my back, too early. There was a huge mountain of mystery about us. Students wondered why he took me. I constantly caught students, and even staff at times, studying and analyzing me, as if they were trying to understand the clouded history of me. The buzz of talk concerning Mirmo was clear that even knights and masters that had been part of Mirmo’s class, could not understand why he choose me, especially after refusing to take an apprentice for so many years. There seemed to be equal amount of mystery in the subject of me. No one knew me, for I didn’t talk very much and turned stone cold silent when I sensed a pryer. Even Lyn didn’t know too much about me. She knew of my personally, my unpredictable hyperness, my ever so fast changing moods, and of my talents, but she was excluded in my history. She was the only person that didn’t mind not knowing me fully. To be fair, I didn’t know much about her and it was understood that I didn’t need to know. Our friendship was strong and steady enough to respect each other’s need for privacy.

It was other training that I received on Earth that had taught me, though it was not meant to, to ignore being looked at or knowing people were trying to look at me without being noticed. I had learned enough self control not too blush, not to let my heart race, and fumble around, but to act as though I was blind to their stares of wonder and continue my every day life. Privately, I found the looks annoying. There was nothing special about me. I was a no one. Back at my home planet, I was one in billions, just a number with no name, no money, no power or fame, and no reason for anyone to give a care about me. This unasked for attention brought confusing messages of who I was and what I should think and do.

No one knew, with the exception of my master, the only Jedi I confided in my troubles of new given interest among people I didn’t know, how much of relief it was for the attention to turn on the new chosen apprentice. I was sick of awkwardly avoiding people’s same questions on a weekly basis and hiding in strange places to escape wondering eyes. It was now my turn to do the staring on the new girl, a tall, skinny with bright flaming red hair, and try to understand why she got picked. She seemed a bit pushy for my tastes, a bit more on the bossy side that I was, with less consideration that almost extended on to the side of rude, when she was around people. Unlike me, she was surrounded by a group of adoring or pitifully jealous girls. She had a loud voice that carried her commanding presence. She was picked, well, I guessed, for her skills in the Force and leadership. Her master was not quite so pompous, but the master gave me a new appreciation for Mirmo.

We were all standing in the matted floor with gleaming white walls of the lightsaber training room, nervously chatting to each other, with a few who were going over moves minutes before the test. As usual, I stood a pace away from the group, radiating my normal “leave me alone” feeling through the Force and by the position of my after turned back. The conversation predictably turned to the new apprentice, wondering how one attracts a master and if should one find the courage to ask, or to summon the patience and hope to wait for the master to ask the student.

I was nervous about the test, but the fight the night before had struck some confidence in me, as well as purple, swelled bruises. My mind accidentally turned, in attempt to stop worrying over the next hour, about the night before. Images of my father whipping a gun out and pulling the trigger, my scream over the boom of the gun shot, and the blood running down my Master’s chest, brought back the fear I had felt earlier. I squeezed my eyes shut, mastered my brain, and focused on absolutely nothing behind my eye lids. I quickly opened my eyes, glancing around to see if anyone had picked up on my brief moment of panic. Not even my master, who was standing next to the new master, had moved from his stance. I breathed a thank you to the Force.

The room went deadly silent in fear and respect when the lightsaber teacher walked in. I saw the worried or anxious looks in my fellow students, and keenly felt their emotions, as well as my own. The teacher greeted us and bowed her head to the knights in the back, before starting her talk of how the teat would proceed. When our name was called, we were to pick up a stick from the rack, bow to her, bow to the students, and begin the drill we had been taught. We would be tested on our skill at executing the moves and our memory of the order of the moves. We had already been told this, but I could tell people needed to be told that once again.

I had thought she would call us in alphabetical order, leaving me in the middle of the list, able to watch others make the first mistake, but I was wrong. I was given quite an unpleasant shock when I heard my name being called first. The students parted, leaving me a path to step forward. With trembling hands I took the stick and stepped into the open space. It was in that moment, that I knew how to do the test. I remembered the night before, the grace of my master, the sureness of his moves, and how he was careful not to waste energy with personal flare.

I bowed twice, purposely not looking at my master, worried it would ignite my fear all over again, and raised my right hand. I remembered how my mastered used the high right shoulder angle to begin an attack. As I moved the stick to my waist, I remembered how he lowered his hands down to that level. I moved my hands to my right hip, with the tip of the make shift sword pointing to the ground. Mirmo surprised me starting that low. I maneuvered the stick between my legs, imaging a blow that was meant to cut a person in half. I mirrored my right hand stances with my left hand, though not with the same skill, seeing how I am right handed. I mentally shuddered when I brought the stick over my head, knowing it was an ultimate mortal strike and then pulled back the sword and lunged, as if I was going to stab someone in the stomach.

With still, planted feet, I swung the stick, with only a whisper of wood passing through air. I envisioned the pervious fight, copying the style Mirmo had displayed. I used his courage and subtle fierceness, without dark anger, in my moves. I went through eight different swings and then repeat one, twisted my wrists and mirrored it. I carried out several more moves before ending the test with a mandatory bow. The students clapped for me as I carefully looked at the teacher for approval. Her face said nothing and she held herself in so I could not read her in the Force. I slightly shrugged, figuring she would correct us at the end. I quickly sat down, breathing deeply, trying to calm my racing with nerves mind and heart. I could only hope I did well enough to pass.