I Am No Jedi: Ahsoka x Reader

Chapter 1

Thanks guys for reading! Sorry for the late update. If you started reading before Jan 10th 2020, all the Hunt Keyne's have been changed to y/n l/n. Shoutout to Greenwizard23 for first comment!

If you've started reading from Before-31, y/n and Ahsoka were friends when they were younglings. They were separated when they were assigned their Masters. This is during the Clone Wars, around Season 4-5. 

The air was filled with the rotten, acrid stench of smoke. Large, suffocating clouds of it billowed in the Chandrilian sky, circling in the air, painting the previous canvas of azure blue over with angry strokes of grey. The ground fared no better, pockmarked by craters like freckles on a face. Rubble littered the ground, the dust stirred up by fallen debris still loitering in the air, as if unwilling to leave. Crashed fighter jets, crumbling infrastructure, half-burnt bodies lay on the ground. Silence was a bomb dropped onto the city. Just seconds before, screams, shouts, gunshots and explosions had rung through every person's ears. Now, most of it was still.

He moved slowly and solemnly through the infinite sea of bodies. Destroyed battle droids surrounded the brave men who had fallen, fighting for peace and the Republic. His boots stirred up puffs of blood-stained dust as he walked melancholily through the display of deaths.

He was not alone though. The surviving clones of the 327th Star Corps still grasped their blasters gingerly, as if this place were still an active warzone. It very well could still be, despite the electrical bomb the Republic had just dropped in the area. It should have cleared the city free of droids. Should have.

Injured troopers were rushed to the few available gunships by medics. Posthumous goodbyes were uttered by living brother to dead brother.

Another victory. But at what kriffing cost? Needless death, all for what? He thought bitterly to himself. His h/c hair glowed in the dim sunlight that managed to penetrate the clouds of smoke. In one hand, he gripped a double-bladed lightsaber; one half crimson red, the other half cobalt blue. The blades cast a faint light onto the fallen figures below.

Every dead soldier he paid close attention to, distinguishing their identities by their armour, removing their helmets when he couldn't tell. Their names were tattooed onto his left arm.

Gravity, Tarmac, Paint.

Sometimes the clones' faces were destroyed by a blaster bolt or explosion, leaving only scarred, sizzling flesh and a face to torn, damaged and broken that he would never know which brave man it was who had passed.

Buster, Clearway, Pollock, Rocco, Ratchet.

He knelt down beside a body, prising the helmet of a trooper off. The helmet was already so dented and crushed that he doubted he would even be able to recognise the facial features of the poor man.

Gallant and Taz and Blitz.

He was wrong, but he would have preferred it if the man's face was less horrid.

One eye had been gouged out by the helmet's collapsed material, leaving only a bloody mess where it should have been. The clone's head was bashed in, a huge chunk of stained shrapnel sticking out from above his ear. The nose was smashed in, bits of bone visible through the flesh. He didn't know where the soldier's face should have ended, for there was a gory goop of bloodied tissue hanging off the man's mouth, most likely the remains of his chin.

It was only then that he realised the bodywasn't even complete. Everything below the hip had been blown off by anexplosion, and the armour was stained with blood.

He recoiled, not from disgust-he had grown used to seeing injuries and dead bodies two years ago when the war started, though only after months of puking - but because of sadness.

The Clone Wars had matured him, twisted the naïve, careless, cocky, over-confident and effervescent boy, carved him, refined him, and turned him into an experienced, attentive and bright young man. He was no longer the blank piece of paper, waiting to be filled, unknowing of the world and how innocent he was. Now, he was a bound book containing the wisdom of thousands of generations before him. No longer blank, no longer unknowing, no longer innocent.

If only the electric bomb had arrived sooner, and been dropped earlier. Then maybe, just maybe, there wouldn't be that many names he would have to engrave on his flesh to remember.

"y/n," his master's voice was loud and clear, cutting through the thick clouds of dust and smoke. "Come. Our business here is finished. Chandrila is safe from the Separatist army."

Sighing, sixteen-year-old y/n l/n stood up. The young Jedi was still gazing at the battlefield. White streaks, clone armour and remains, were dotted across the landscape. Hundreds of clones had died in Chandrila just then. He had only identified and kept track of eleven.

y/n imagined their corpses, lying there, being torn to bits by scavenging animals, ripped apart by the weather's unpredictability, or perhaps being covered by sand and dust and earth, forgotten forever.

"Yes Master," he replied, still gazing at the fallen soldiers. "Where are we going?" he prayed it wasn't another warzone. The sound of firing blasters still echoed in his ears.

"Coruscant," Master Aayla Secura said. She was now next to her apprentice. She put a hand on his shoulder. "I understand how you feel. But it is the will of the Force."

y/n nodded blankly.

Together, master and apprentice left the smoking remains of Chandrila.

The gunship zoomed through the atmosphere, passing through the smoke, then into bright sunlight, and then into the silent blackness of space.

The vessel approached a large Republic cruiser hovering above the planet. Within minutes, y/n and Master Secura were inside the larger ship.

"Reporting for duty, General Secura, sir!" Commander Bly, the second in charge of the battalion, announced to the Jedi Master. y/n was glad to see the clone was alive and well, Bly had saved him from so many dangers and been one of his best friends.

"Make sure everyone is on board. We want all the gunships out before hyperspace. Other than that, good job, Bly. You've done well," Aayla replied.

"Sir, yes sir! Thank you, sir!" the commander saluted smartly, nodded at y/n, who grinned back, and marched away.

Soon, one of the operators in the cruiser's bridge was pulling the hyperspace lever.

y/n thought that he could see a small dot of white on Chandrila's surface. Perhaps it was his mind playing tricks, perhaps it was actually the remains of the dead clone troopers they were leaving behind.