Luke Skywalker is now seven years old.
Children on Tatooine were not sent to anything resembling a formal school until they were at least ten, so my education remained home-based.
Officially, Luke spent his days learning how to help Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru maintain the moisture farm while slowly assembling a droid from scavenged parts in the garage.
Unofficially, I continued experimenting with the Force whenever nobody was looking.
To be honest, I was not entirely sure how quickly humans from the Core Worlds were supposed to develop, especially after thousands of years of selective breeding and genetic refinement.
Add the Skywalker bloodline and Naboo’s aristocratic heritage into the mix, and things became even harder to judge.
Still, I seemed a little taller and more physically developed than an ordinary seven-year-old should have been.
Then again, maybe that was just because I had been a short guy in my previous life.
Luke Skywalker, by comparison, was practically built to become a superhero.
At that particular moment, I was once again attempting to bend a piece of scrap metal with the Force.
Over the previous two months, I had discovered that different materials possessed distinct structures and densities within the Force.
Understanding that fact, however, had done very little to improve my practical results.
Theory and practice rarely agreed when the Force was involved.
“Wrong.” The voice came from nowhere.
I nearly jumped out of my skin, spinning around as I searched the garage where I had been quietly tormenting bits of scrap metal.
The source of the sound, or rather the voice echoing through the Force, revealed itself directly behind me.
A translucent man stood there.
He wore the traditional robes of a Jedi from the days of the Republic.
Unfortunately, he was another face I recognized immediately.
Great.
At this rate, I’m definitely going to end up meeting Yoda one day.
“W-what?” I stammered, doing my best impression of a frightened child.
Surely any normal seven-year-old would react that way when confronted by a glowing Force ghost.
“Wrong,” the Jedi repeated calmly.
“You are trying to apply the Force directly to the object’s exterior.
Instead, you should saturate the essence of the object itself.” “Uh…” The suggestion was genuinely fascinating.
The possibility had never even occurred to me.
Unfortunately, the act had to continue.
“So…
what’s the Force?
Who are you?
And how did you get in here?” I already knew the answer to almost all of those questions.
The last one genuinely interested me, though.
As for the Force, I obviously knew plenty already.
What I really wanted to know was why this particular person was on Tatooine.
Shouldn’t he have become one with the Force by now?
Did the Force Police finally catch the transmigrator?
Is this some kind of celestial eviction notice?
“The Force is everything around us,” the figure answered after a brief pause.
“It is the energy that exists within every living being and every object.” He folded his hands into the sleeves of his robe.
“My name is Qui-Gon Jinn.
I was a Jedi Knight, just as your father was.
Many years ago, I was the one who discovered him on this world.” “Was a Jedi?” I immediately latched onto the wording.
“You knew my father?
Uncle Owen says he was just a freighter pilot.” Questions poured out one after another.
Whatever Qui-Gon was doing here, he seemed to have accepted my disguise as nothing more than an unusually curious child.
That was encouraging.
At least I was not being forcibly evicted from my own body.
… Qui-Gon did not appear very often.
Apparently, Force ghosts had limits of their own.
Whether maintaining their presence consumed energy, the Force itself, or something else entirely, I could not tell.
Even so, his arrival transformed my life.
Imagine spending years stumbling through blind experimentation, only to suddenly acquire a competent mentor.
A teacher.
A walking encyclopedia.
Well…
not technically walking.
Qui-Gon claimed he had already resolved everything that tied him to the mortal world.
According to him, he would have passed on completely if he had not happened to notice a certain Skywalker son of Skywalker stubbornly trying to bend a piece of scrap metal through sheer force of will.
Personally, I suspected he had finally finished teaching Obi-Wan everything he needed to know about becoming a Force ghost and had been preparing to depart when I accidentally caught his attention.
Then some deeply ingrained Jedi instinct had taken over.
An unfinished duty.
One final responsibility.
Whatever the reason, I had become his newest project.
The first thing he did was dismantle my self-taught approach from the ground up.
We went all the way back to the fundamentals.
How to sense the Force.
Naturally, I wanted to complain.
That urge disappeared very quickly.
Add to library！ Creation is hard, cheer me up!