My name is Avtus Ida. I am a Knight of the Jedi Order, a guardian of peace and justice for the Galactic Republic.
...Or, at least, I was supposed to be.
Having fallen in battle as a Jedi, I found myself—by some strange guidance—laid to rest in a place that bore absolutely no resemblance to the Jedi Temple where I spent my final moments. Furthermore, I was an infant. I had no idea what was happening.
Subjectively speaking, it felt as though my consciousness had been snuffed out the moment my head was severed, only to flick back on to find myself in the body of a newborn. Yes, "clueless" was an understatement.
The greatest mystery was the fact that, despite this being an infant's body, I possessed the full awareness and memories of Avtus. Even for a child of the Force, such a feat should have been physically impossible given the limited neural capacity of a baby's brain.
However, I do not believe in mere coincidences. Accepting this as the will of the Force—or perhaps a trial—I decided to dedicate myself, for the time being, to mastering this unknown tongue.
Yes, a completely unknown language.
As a Jedi Knight, my primary duty had been information processing within the Archives. Consequently, I hadn't gone on many missions far from Coruscant, but I had still made a point to learn the languages of the major systems as a matter of professional etiquette.
Yet, the language spoken here was one I had never heard nor seen. This meant my current location was not only far from Coruscant, but likely outside the Core Worlds entirely. While it seemed it would take considerable effort to eventually return to Coruscant and join the fight against the Sith, I could do nothing without first acquiring the local language. In any sentient society, that is a mandatory requirement.
And so, I mobilized the vast amount of free time afforded to an infant to focus on linguistics. I am a Jedi, after all. Mastering a single new language at this stage was hardly a challenge.
I didn't keep track of the specific number of days, and I still didn't know how much this planet's day or year differed from Standard Time, but by the time I was able to pull myself up to a standing position, I had attained a general understanding. As for conversation... my physical functions were still immature, and my tongue wouldn't quite cooperate yet.
Thus, another day began.
"Good morning, Kotoha! It's a beautiful day today. Look!"
"Ai... Fath-er... goo' morni'."
"Mmmph! What a good girl! Our daughter is so cute it's actually killing me...!"
These days, my mornings began with a greeting from a man with a head reminiscent of Master Windu. He was my current father.
His name was Juyu. Or perhaps Shigeo. I wasn't entirely sure which was correct, but since the men who occasionally visited—who also sported shaved heads—called him the former, and my current mother called him the latter, I assumed it was a distinction between a title and a given name.
For now, I was in his care. Being his daughter, so to speak, I recognized him as Shigeo. Besides, if I called him Juyu, it sounded too much like Form VII, Juyo, which made it difficult for me to distinguish.
...Oh, that reminds me. Once I had reached a baseline of language mastery, I realized that for some reason, my gender had changed to female. I didn't particularly mind, but it did suggest that I was likely not a direct continuation of the person known as Avtus Ida.
In other words, I hadn't simply been turned back into a baby; I had been reincarnated as one. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that my departed soul had been guided by the Force to inhabit this body.
This was a troubling thought. If it were the former, it would be fine. But if it were the latter, there was a high probability that I had usurped this child's body. The guilt of that was nearly unbearable.
However, as much as I agonized over it, I could not change the reality of the situation. Even with the Republic's most advanced technology, one could not return to the past. Thinking about it further was a dead end.
Perhaps this, too, was a trial of the Force, though the Force could be cruel at times. I was a Jedi and could handle it, but this was no trial to inflict upon a newborn child.
Therefore, I decided that if the day ever came when this child's original consciousness returned, I would fade away gracefully as an act of atonement. While there was a chance it might never happen, such a possibility had to be carefully considered. Once my body was more capable, I intended to keep a daily diary to prepare for that moment. I can only hope for forgiveness.
At any rate, while I maintained my self-identity as Avtus Ida, speaking of it would benefit no one.
Furthermore, considering the possibility that I would one day have to return this body to its original owner, I decided to seal away the name "Avtus" for the time being. I accepted the name that Shigeo had spent three days agonizing over.
Thus, Kotoha. My name for now is Kotoha Masue. I hope we can get along.
...I've wandered off-topic. Right, my daily routine.
I was carried by Shigeo toward the family dining table. On this planet, three meals a day was the standard, and it seemed customary for the family to eat together.
"Good morning, Koto-chan! You're adorable today, as always!"
"T'ank you."
Greeting Shigeo and me was my current mother. Her name was Hiromi. She was a good wife who supported Shigeo and, like him, a good mother who showered her daughter with bottomless affection.
With these two and myself, the Masue household was complete. I was the eldest daughter.
"Here you go, Koto-chan. Say 'ahhh'."
"Ahhh."
During meals, Hiromi's assistance was required. This body was still too young and lacked dexterity.
From my perspective as Avtus, I naturally felt some resistance to being fed, but it was far better than breastfeeding. That had been an agonizing ordeal of the highest order. I would prefer not to discuss it further.
And so, I received my meal from Hiromi. It was what they called "baby food," whereas my parents' meals were naturally different.
Their staple food consisted mainly of a collection of small white grains, usually accompanied by a whitish soup. The lineup included various main and side dishes that changed daily; judging by the variety, the food culture on this planet was remarkably rich. I only knew the confines of our estate so far, and while technology didn't seem particularly advanced, the quality of the meals rivaled that of the wealthy elite on Coruscant.
Perhaps this planet belonged to a civilization that prioritized culinary excellence over the advancement of living standards. What a peaceful world this must be. How wonderful. (Of course, this was a massive misunderstanding on my part, but that was what I believed at the time). I looked forward to the day I could finally taste those dishes myself.
Now, after breakfast, I was generally under Hiromi's supervision. She often used a primitive computer to create data or handle communications. Procurement of ingredients, cleaning the house, and managing the finances also seemed to be her responsibility.
As for Shigeo, his main work involved managing a large religious facility on the grounds (called a Tera, or temple) and tending to its followers. The latter seemed especially important; he often traveled to the followers' homes to perform various rituals for them.
...I had yet to see him take a day off. He must be a leader of this planet's unique religion, and a devout one at that. In Jedi terms, he might be someone of Master-level standing.
In any case, since both my parents were quite busy, I used this time for my own training.
Training for what? For being a Jedi, of course. Perhaps because I was in a new body, my connection to the Force had been severed. As someone who had been familiar with the Force since before I could remember, the sensation of being unable to feel it was profoundly unsettling.
Because of this, I would position myself in areas where the Force felt "thickest" (a guess, since the connection was still gone) and engage in meditation...
"I cannot feel the Force," I muttered to myself.
I had actually been attempting meditation in parallel with my language studies, but there was no sign of a connection forming.
Thinking my method might be flawed, I tried to recall how I had first gained that connection... but since I had been at the Jedi Temple since before I had a sense of self, there was nothing to remember.
To be more precise, Force-sensitives belonging to the Jedi were brought to the Temple from across the galaxy as infants—specifically, within six months of birth. This was because as one grows, there are more opportunities to experience anger and hatred, increasing the risk of falling to the Dark Side. The only recent exception was Anakin, who became a Padawan at an age where his ego was already fully established.
In short, almost every Jedi had a connection to the Force from the moment they gained self-awareness. It was a given.
So, looking back at my current situation...
"...Is it possible that this body lacks sufficient midi-chlorians?"
I had been trying not to think about it, but the possibility seemed high.
The ability to touch the Force is determined by the abundance of midi-chlorians—microscopic lifeforms that live symbiotically within the cells of all living things. In an average human, the count is about 2,500 per cell. To actually connect with the Force, however, one needs roughly 5,000. I... or rather, Kotoha's body... likely fell short of that mark.
"This is... problematic."
It was more than problematic. I had become a baby, but I was a Knight of the Jedi. Though my duties rarely involved combat and I was by no means an elite Force-user, I still took great pride in being a guardian of peace and justice.
If I couldn't meet even the minimum requirements for a Jedi, I would never be able to return to Coruscant and join the fight against the Sith!
Given the level of technology on this planet, it was highly likely that interstellar travel hadn't even been established yet. Even so, I felt I should be prepared to sacrifice myself whenever the opportunity to fulfill my duty as a Jedi arose.
"...Is this, too, a trial?"
I mustn't let my mind wander. A Jedi must remain calm at all times.
...Yes. To begin with, a one-year-old is a creature with nothing but room for growth. My body still had potential. The midi-chlorians within me would surely increase bit by bit.
This was likely a time to focus on refining my spirit for the day I finally reached the required threshold. That was the nature of this trial.