Kiddo | Kylo Ren

XXV. Kiddo

The Finale

You'd spent four weeks training with Kylo after returning from your trip to Tarot.

Four grueling, arduous weeks, spent under the heed of your Supreme Leader's flaming red lightsaber. Though your newly-made purple saber was in pristine condition compared to Kylo's seemingly ancient one, it was no match. Week after week, training session after training session, Kylo swung his enflamed weapon in every direction possible until you'd beg him to stop; claiming every bone in both of your arms was broken, and that your sore legs would never walk again. Kylo would only huff in response, rolling his eyes from behind the mask and allowing you five minutes to gather your strength before he swung again.

Though you were a weak, sweaty mess by the end of every session, you enjoyed the time spent with Kylo. If anything, it was nearly too much time spent with the Supreme Leader; you'd become his priority above all else, bar running the entirety of the First Order. Every morning, day, and night, you were with Kylo. Swinging a bright purple lightsaber through the air, cutting and nipping at pieces of his cloth cape, praying at some point his impressive stamina would dry out and he'd finally give you a break.

But a break never came. Nor did a day off. Even when you were a sore, aching mess, Kylo would pull your limp body out from beneath his silk sheets and force you into your training gear. Thick gloves tied firmly around your palms so the hilt of your lightsaber did not irritate your skin. Breathable shirts and shorts that hugged your now nicely toned body. Shoes with soles made of nothing but the heavenly feeling of soft, plush clouds. But no matter how comfortable the shoes were, or how tight-fitted your outfit was, nothing was better than the feeling of your buzzing lightsaber held tightly in your hands.

Something about holding that saber felt right to you. Like you were meant to be holding it.

Like the saber Kylo had built was made for you and no one else; like he'd molded it to the exact shape of your hands. Every time you happened to pick it up, whether it was for training or only a second of admiration, it found a comfortable place in your hand almost immediately. Today was no different; four weeks of holding the metallic weapon in your hand, yet nothing had changed. It was still just as perfect as the day you'd received it, only better now that it had an actual kyber crystal inside of it.

The crystal you and Kylo had bled together.

You'd never expected the crystal to be as powerful as it was. The first time you'd turned on the damn thing with the crystal placed inside of it, it nearly dropped from your hands and sliced through the linoleum floor at your feet. Of course, Kylo caught it before that could happen, holding it steady from behind as he guided you through the simplest ways to swing a saber. That alone took a week to learn; Kylo hadn't even let you hold the weapon by yourself until you'd learned how to maneuver the deadly bolt of light without sawing an arm or leg off. After that, he'd finally let you swing at him. Take out all your frustrations, even if he dodged every attack. That was another week of easy training.

The next two, however, were much more dangerous.

Sometimes, Kylo would put the two of you on circular pedestals raised high in the air, and swing his saber until one or the other was knocked off. It was usually you being knocked off, landing hard on the safety mats from below. The term "safety" used lightly, seeing as most of the falls landed in a sore elbow or bruised buttock. Other times, he'd let you practice in the large space of the training arena, letting other First Order brutes watch as you swung your ludicrously large saber talentlessly through the air. Only once did Kylo allow one of the fellow trainees to join a lightsaber battle with you, but it ended soon after they'd nipped the skin of your bicep.