I was born beneath the harsh glow of Tatooine's twin suns, a child of the streets, raised in the shadows of Mos Eisley. My mother was a trader, my father—whoever he was—never stuck around long enough for me to know. All he left behind was a necklace with a small crystal embedded in it, something I had carried with me for as long as I could remember. Life in the Outer Rim was never easy, and by the time I was old enough to hold a hydrospanner, I was already scraping by fixing up speeders for second-rate smugglers and bounty hunters.
But I was different. I always felt it. Like the time I dodged a swoop bike before I even saw it coming, or when I knew which crates in the market had the best supplies without opening them. Once, I even made a vibroblade skitter across a table just by willing it to move. I told myself it was luck, instinct—but deep down, I knew it was something more. There was something in the way I could sense things before they happened, the way my gut told me which deals would go bad, the way I could move faster than anyone else in a fight. I kept it to myself, of course. No one on Tatooine believed in the Force anymore. Not unless you were some crazy old hermit in the desert.
The twin suns beat down on Anchorhead, scorching the dusty streets as I pulled my hood up to shield my face. Tatooine was unforgiving, but I'd grown used to it. Born and raised in Mos Eisley, I had learned early that survival meant keeping your head low and your blaster close.
I'd heard whispers of the Empire cracking down on smugglers, and with work growing scarce, I spent most of my days fixing up speeders in a dingy little garage. It wasn't glamorous, but it kept me out of trouble—mostly.
That day, I had been picking up a part for an old SoroSuub landspeeder when I heard the commotion in the cantina.
"Stormtroopers," someone muttered as they brushed past me. "Looking for some droids."
I kept walking, minding my business, but my gut told me something big was happening. And when I caught sight of the kid in the white tunic—Luke Skywalker—I knew I was right. He was with an old man in a robe, a walking Wookiee carpet, and some Corellian hotshot. The Millennium Falcon had always been a legend in Mos Eisley, and here it was, about to lift off right in front of me.
I didn't know why I followed them. Maybe it was boredom, maybe it was fate. But when the stormtroopers started firing, I pulled my DL-18 from my belt and fired back.
"Hey!" the Corellian—Solo, I remembered—shouted. "Kid, you wanna get fried? Get lost!"
I hesitated. I should have turned away. I should have left Mos Eisley behind. But I saw something in Luke's eyes when he turned to look at me. The same restlessness I felt. The same longing for something more.
The next thing I knew, I was sprinting up the Falcon's ramp, my heart pounding as the boarding ramp closed behind me.
The ship shuddered as it lifted off, and I grabbed a support beam to steady myself. The old man—Kenobi—looked at me with a knowing expression, like he expected me to be there all along.
"Who the hell are you?" Solo demanded, striding up to me. "Some punk who thinks he can just hop on my ship for a ride?"
I took a breath. "Name's Kai. And you looked like you could use an extra blaster."
Chewbacca growled, and Solo rolled his eyes. "Great. Another one."
Luke stepped forward. "You're from Tatooine?"
"Born and raised," I said. "You're Skywalker, right? Owen Lars' nephew?"
He blinked. "You knew my uncle?"
I nodded. "Bought some parts from him once. Sorry about what happened."
Luke's expression darkened, but he didn't look away. Something told me he had already set his sights beyond Tatooine, beyond the life he'd always known. Just like me.
Kenobi placed a hand on my shoulder, his expression unreadable yet knowing. "You have made a fateful choice, young one. The Force moves in mysterious ways." He glanced briefly at Luke, a flicker of something—recognition, perhaps—crossing his face. "It is rare for two such kindred spirits to cross paths at the same time."
I wasn't sure what he meant, but I knew one thing: I wasn't going back to Tatooine.
Not now. Not ever.
And whatever lay ahead, I was ready to face it.
The Falcon jumped into hyperspace, the starry void stretching into streaks of light. I exhaled, feeling the weight of my decision settle in. I had just left everything I had ever known behind.
Kenobi was watching me, his blue eyes calm yet piercing. "You feel it, don't you? The Force?"
I hesitated. "I don't know what I feel. Just... sometimes I know things before they happen."
He nodded. "The Force is strong in you. I sensed it the moment you stepped aboard. You are not here by accident."
Luke glanced between us, curiosity in his gaze. "You mean... he's like me?"
Kenobi smiled. "In a way. But each Force-sensitive walks their own path." He turned back to me. "I can teach you, if you are willing."
A part of me wanted to laugh. Me, a Jedi? It sounded absurd. But the other part—the part that always felt different, that always knew there was something more out there—wanted to believe it.
"Alright," I said. "Teach me."
Kenobi's smile deepened. "Then we begin." My heart pounded with anticipation. This was it—the moment my life truly changed. Whatever lay ahead, I was ready to embrace it.