It was a beautiful morning on Takodana. The sunlight pierced through the trees. The sounds of flurrgs can be heard croaking and convors chirping in the distance. The only other sound was that of armor hitting at high impacts.
Within the secluded trees, two mandalorian-clad warriors stood their ground in an attack stance. One male and the other female. The female Mandalorian warrior was known as Okha Zaan, the Huntress of Mandalore. Her armor looked relatively new. A few scratches, and dings. For as long as she could remember, Teräs-Kasi was a hand-to-hand combat skill Okha wanted to perfect. Her opponent/mentor, wore a heavily worn armor that had seen plenty of combat. The outermost green gave way to an undercoating of yellow, and bare metal. The red accents around the visor had also seen a fair share of action, as bare metal was clearly visible revealing a directional impacts.
BAM!!!
Another blocked hit. Okha took a deep breath as she planned her next move. She drove her right gauntlet into his ribcage right behind the area the armor ends.
CRACK!!
Not enough for a knock-down, but will definitely slow him down.
“Must you be so predictable...”, her mentor said in a taunting fashion.
In that moment, something clicked inside Okha’s mind. She was holding back. She knew she wanted to knock him down, and finally win a fight. But she had to change it up. She needed to deliver a knock-out blow. One that would be considered fatal. Within a mere second, and before her opponent could say the next set of words, she revs up her jetpack and springs upward with a force she alone would never be capable of. She target’s her opponent's head and delivers a blow to the leftmost forehead with a sound that will never be forgotten.
BLAMMM!!!
The impact was so hard, the sound rattled all the surrounding convors in the trees and took flight. Her opponent's head reels back, and his entire body follows. Losing his balance and bearings, he breaks his fall with his hands, rolls on the ground and tries to sit up. She can hear his moaning and grumbling under the helmet.
Okha removed her helmet, and triumphantly cradled it with her left arm, “How’s that for predictable…?”
Her defeated mentor got to his knees. Shaking his head slowly, he begins to unbuckle his helmet and regains his footing. “Better, much better”, he heavily breathed the words as he removed the helmet and looked straight into Okha's eyes, “one day, you will not be able to afford holding back. One day, you will not be able to allow emotions to dictate the next move.”
Okha knew he had noticed. She had cracked his ribs countless times, for her it was a victory, but her opponent was never really defeated. After all those sparring matches, he finally removed his helmet. She saw his face. But it was short lived, as he proceeded to look at his helmet, admire the new dent, and proceeded to put it back on.
Okha had a feeling that this would be the last time they would meet. Unable to express her sadness, she looked down at the ground and tried to focus on the gratitude she felt. “Look, I want to thank you for all the times you’ve met with me. All the times you’ve instructed me and allowed to spar and improve my fighting style.”
Suddenly, she felt the touch of his gloves softly lifting her chin. She allowed him to gently lift her head.
He lightly shook his head, “No. Do not thank me. It is I who needs to thank you. For it is you who has taught me.”
Okha could not believe what she just heard. She felt that there was nothing she could’ve offered or provided to be worthy of such praise.
“Now that I have something to always remember you by, so should you.” Her mentor reached into a satchel he had always brought with him. Okha did not even recognize what they were at first. Gleaming in the sunlight, each hand held a purely reflective silver Westar-34 pistol. He hadn't spoken much of his past. However, she was certain that they belonged to someone that was near and dear to him.
Okha was at a loss for words. She kept staring at the gift in awe.
Just as he took a step back, he assured her, “I wouldn't entrust these to just anyone.”
She knew in her heart of hearts that this was the last time they would spar, but she didn't want it to be goodbye. There was a connection between them she could not explain. “How will I ever find you again?”
“You might not.” Okha's face gave away her confusion and concern. He continued, “I have word on an Imperial matter. I'm sure you heard about their station.” Okha’s voice showed excitement, “yes, that it was an inside job! That's great news, I'm sure there's a lot of credits! Please let me know if there's an Imperial matter I could offer services for. I'll never be able to afford my own freighter and crew with the little jobs I land at Maz's.” He somewhat interrupted Okha's thoughts, “The Empire isn't everything you'd want it to be. I know you have dreams of having your own crew and one day avenging your family and the untimely death if your brother, but you might want to rethink your strategy.” Okha was taken back. She had confided in him childhood memories that were traumatic and dreams of creating a crew to potentially find those responsible. Not to make small talk, but because she thought he might have actually cared. She never thought to have such things used against her. She felt betrayed as her eyes began to well up, “strategy? You think everything I do is part of a strategy ?”
“Okha, I can be reckless. You cannot. You may not understand this, but you are more important than you know.” Okha's face read a new level of confusion with tears beginning to pool in her eyes. “Become who you are meant to be. But please... take care of yourself.” He gently held her hands that were still holding the Westar-34 pistols, ”Like I said, I wouldn't give these to just anyone.”
With that, he turned away, picked up his satchel and headed back to his ship.
Okha tried to get his attention, “you know I will need to find you one day.”
He continued to walk away without hesitation. She resisted the urge to chase after him, and projected her voice as the distance between them increased, “how can I find you?!”
He kept walking and did not break his stride, “Maz will know. Tell her, Boba Fett needs me.”
