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Yoda watched the younglings carefully. He didn't want to make a mistake, choosing a young for oneself was always an adventure, and even if they weren't Initiates to be watched over relentlessly, these humans needed supervision to discover life.
Hmm... he looked away from the noisy Padawan Kolar – no, wait a second, he was a Master, how quickly the years went by... – and his angry human who hid a lot of fear and turned to others. Spontaneously enough, discussion groups had formed all over the place, and he could see how most were very tense and uncomfortable, but others seemed... the opposite of that. Many of the clones looked puzzled at the way Master Kolar and his partner made their fists talk and seemed envious, but others managed small, awkward conversations very well like Master Unduli, still unwavering. Incredible girl, this Jedi, truly skilled and in control. The clone with her wasn't handling it as well but the Padawan between them seemed to calm him down. Hmm... were the clones calmed by the presence of the youngsters? He would have to call Master Koon and the Initiates back from playing in the woods.
Another one caught his eye and Yoda only had time to snake in and out to hide behind a bush before he burst out laughing, trying to contain his amusement. Some people were bolder than they had imagined! The look on Master Di's face at an unexpected kiss was just magical, he wished he had a holo to remember it by. Master Ausar Auset had just woken up like a startled cat when a clone climbed up his tree to introduce himself and another clone was making eyes at Knight Secura. Right under her nose.
Some of them knew what they wanted, clearly, the Kaminoans' attempts at emotional repression had not been successful, and that was good.
Then suddenly someone was insulted in Mando'a, much to his surprise. Yoda knew that the youngsters had been trained by a large majority of Mandalorians, but he didn't think they would have been taught the language.
Was he going to correct the individual for his vocabulary?
And lose the strategic advantage of speaking almost every possible language after nine hundred years of life? Never! However, Yoda let his golden eyes linger on the group from which the shouts were coming. He couldn't see very well, so he stepped back into the shadows, stretched carefully so as not to hurt his old body, and jumped. No one but Yaddle, herself in a tree directly in front of him, saw him, and he lay down quietly on a branch to watch the scene peacefully.
He couldn't quite work out what the conversation was about, but it was lively and animated, and suddenly one of them came into his field of vision to walk away, rolling his eyes, only just stopped by another.
That would be him.
Yes, he liked him.
He'd seen him and liked him before they'd even exchanged a word, it had been the same with Dooku, his last Padawan picked up from the Crèche, one look was enough.
He just... had this energy, this je ne sais quoi that screamed "I'm a little shit" to the world for anyone who paid attention. Like Dooku. Like Qui-Gon. Like Mace. Like Kit. Like Obi-Wan.
Yoda, in his old age, had decided in good conscience to become a little shit after a strict and serious youth, and the youngsters of the Crèche were a endless inspiration in this. He had begun his apprenticeship by careful observation, and now he recognised his fellow creatures at first sight, which was why he got on so well with Mace and little Kit, they were aware that deep down he was just a mocking old troll who took pleasure in messing with them. He liked this sweet carefree attitude, achieved with great effort. He'd given up a lot to take care of the kids, he'd had to find a successor and trust him to run the Jedi Order, and after centuries of being its leader, Yoda had found it very hard to let go of the grip he had on things. It wasn't that he thought Mace would do things wrong, but he wouldn't do as he did, and it was so unsettling to see things change. At his age, even moving a flowerpot or a statue in the halls, if they'd been there long enough, was going to make him grumpy. He didn't like change very much, it was a consequence of his old age, he had become accustomed to things and he was attached to his past and his memories, he didn't want to let them disappear into nothingness, never mind that a Jedi shouldn't get attached to anything. You couldn't get attached to anything, but you could choose to what you attached yourself and how, so he told the Young stories about every change, no matter how minor it was, in the Jedi and their Temples, so that the memory that lived in him could live on in them, and through them, through time.
All the stories he could tell to so many young people probably secretly eager for stories of adventure...
It was decided, he would adopt this little one.
So as not to surprise the poor group of worried humans, he crawled back to the trunk before letting himself slide to the ground, not flinching when a larger hand landed on the tree, healing in a few seconds the bark his claws had removed.
"Master T'ra."
"Master Yoda, I understand you have someone in mind."
"A son, I'm off to win at Sabbac," he explained, drawing his cane with the Force.
The Neti nodded with an amused smile:
"Yes, we were thinking something like that. Don't let our careful observation slow you down."
The troll gave Yaddle an annoyed look, and Yaddle gave him a cheerful smile, which Padawan Yuster mimicked out of habit. No matter, the audience was almost inevitable here. He walked away, weighing the pros and cons of muttering against the youngsters, but Master T'ra was almost as old as he was, the Neti had truly exceptional longevity and in much better health than he was. Finally, he chose to retire with as much dignity as a man of his age could muster having been seen sliding down a tree trunk like an Initiate.
The clones did not see him coming. It was really funny for him, because usually everyone knew he was coming and he was the centre of attention, but now the humans didn't even see him, because he was too small for them to even think of looking at someone who was a third of their size. It was incredibly funny.
Finally, he made himself known by banging his cane on the ground several times to get some attention. The two right next to him had the strongest reactions, the first one flinched and the second one immediately tried to hit him, but his foot went way over his head. His future son looked down at him with a bored expression.
Yes, that was the kind of reaction his son would have.
The kind that recognized him for the annoying little shit he was so good to be.
"Nice to meet you, I am."
"Who are you, General...?"
"A General, I'm not. Wise and venerable Jedi Master, I am. Yoda, my name is."
"Hng."
"You, your name, you tell me."
His son looked behind him but Yoda wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily and approached.
"For now, I'm going by Thire, but I'm not sure I will keep it."
Hmm... Thire. His youngest was called Thire. Yoda took a moment to feel the moment in the Force before smiling.
"A game of Sabacc, we'll do. If winning I do, adopting you I will."
"No wedding for me?" replied the clone, quick-witted.
"Nine hundred years, I have. Past the age of marriage, I have. To the young, I leave marriage, my son, you will be."
"You haven't won yet, and I haven't even agreed to play," the other pointed out.
"If playing you do, then winning I will. A child you are, cheating I wouldn't even need to win," Yoda hummed with a mocking smile.
As expected, the other squinted at him in response, but offense and indignation burned in the Force around him. He had already won.
"I see. We have no cards."
"Fortunately, I do."
Yoda had a lot more stuff in his pockets than the average person would assume, and he produced a pack of cards without batting an eye.
"Old man, I am, mix it up, you go. Know the rules, I hope you do."
"Of course, I know the rules," muttered Thire, "old fool."
His son dodged the first cane stroke, but not the second.
"Old fool, hmm? Old, I am, but crazy, I am not."
The clones around him didn't exactly seem to agree, but they were also very eager and attentive as they watched their comrade shuffle the cards and prepare the game by sitting comfortably on the floor.
A few minutes later Yoda had, like a very proud child, proved his superiority and quietly stood up, banging his cane on the floor.
"Good. My son, you are."
"Okay, a bet is a bet," the other agreed with a shrug.
Yoda chuckled, satisfied: everything had gone according to plan. Then he waited patiently until Thire's back was turned and jumped with the help of the Force to hold onto his shoulders.
"What the-"
"My son, you are, doing things for your old man, you will."
"And that includes walking for you all around?"
Yoda hummed and held on a little tighter, just in case his son was being rebellious – like Dooku – or particularly clumsy carrying someone on his back – like Kit.
"Of course, it does. Presenting you as a doddering old man, I will. Forward!"
"Why is this my life?" Thire asked.
"Because my son, you are."
The clone glanced at him and finally smiled knowingly as he walked towards a large group of Jedi.
"Hmm... yeah, I think I know what you mean, Dad."