Sayuri led Anakin to her hidden dwelling deep within the forest, a place she had claimed as her own refuge away from the endless war. The canopy overhead was thick, moonlight barely filtering through the branches as they walked in silence. Anakin followed her without question, his steps heavy, his mind lost in thought. He seemed almost haunted by the weight of his confession, as though the mere act of speaking his truth had drained him of what little strength remained.

The clearing opened before them, revealing a small, makeshift campsite nestled beneath the sprawling roots of an ancient tree. Sayuri moved with practiced ease, gathering wood from a nearby stack and arranging it in the firepit. She crouched low, her fingers sparking with a subtle flicker of the Force as the wood caught flame. The fire crackled to life, casting warm, flickering light across their faces.

Anakin stood nearby, watching her in silence, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze was distant, locked on the fire as if searching for answers in the dancing flames. The shadows carved deep lines into his features, the flickering light making him look older, wearier. His shoulders sagged, the weight of everything he had endured pressing down on him.

Sayuri glanced at him as she tended to the fire, her sharp gaze catching every subtle shift in his posture. She could see how tightly he held himself, like a man ready to collapse in on himself at any moment.

"You should sit," she said gently, her voice soft but firm.

Anakin hesitated, then lowered himself to the ground by the fire. His hands hung limply between his knees, and his head bowed low. For a long while, neither of them spoke. The crackle of the flames filled the silence, mingling with the distant sounds of the forest.

Sayuri moved to a small pot she had tucked away, filling it with water from a flask and setting it over the fire. She began adding herbs and dried vegetables she had gathered, her movements calm and precise. As she worked, she spoke softly, her voice like a steady rhythm against the quiet night.

"When I was a child," she began, stirring the pot slowly, "I used to sit by the fire with my family. My mother would make soup like this, and we would talk about the stars, about the stories they held."

Anakin glanced up, his blue eyes catching the firelight. There was a faint flicker of something in his gaze—curiosity, perhaps, or simply a desire to listen. Sayuri's voice was soothing, a balm against the turmoil inside him.

She smiled faintly, continuing, "We believed that the stars were the souls of those who had come before us. They watched over us, guided us. Even in the darkest times, they never left."

Anakin's gaze drifted upward, to the sliver of sky visible through the canopy. The stars shimmered faintly, distant and untouchable.

"I used to think the stars would guide me," he murmured. "But now... I don't know what I believe anymore."

Sayuri knelt beside him, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. "Belief doesn't have to be certain, Anakin. It can change. It can grow." Her fingers tightened gently, a grounding touch. "And even when we feel lost, we're never truly alone."

Anakin closed his eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the fire and her presence wash over him. Slowly, he exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little.

As the soup simmered, Sayuri continued to stir, humming a soft tune—something ancient, something soothing. Anakin watched her, the flickering light illuminating the quiet strength in her expression. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a small sliver of peace settle in his heart.

When the soup was ready, Sayuri ladled it into two simple bowls, handing one to Anakin. He accepted it with a quiet nod, his fingers brushing hers for a fleeting moment. The warmth of the bowl seeped into his hands, grounding him further.

"Thank you," he said softly, his voice rough but sincere.

Sayuri sat beside him, her own bowl cradled in her hands. She glanced at him, her eyes filled with quiet understanding. "You don't have to thank me, Anakin. Just... rest. For tonight, there's nothing more you need to do."

Anakin looked at her for a long moment, his gaze lingering on her face. The firelight danced in her eyes, reflecting a steady, unshakable resolve. In her presence, the weight of the galaxy felt just a little lighter.

And so, he did as she asked. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he allowed himself to rest.

SCENEBREAK

Early the next morning, Sayuri stirred from her restless sleep to the shrill ringing of her comlink. She groaned softly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she fumbled for the device. The cool morning air brushed against her skin, but she barely noticed as she sat up, squinting at the flashing signal.

"By the gods," she muttered, pressing the button to answer. "Who in the galaxy is calling me at this hour?"

The familiar voice crackled through the comlink, strained but unmistakable. "Sayuri! Thank the stars—you answered."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Rex?" she breathed, her mind snapping to full alertness. She hadn't heard from him in what felt like an age. Her brow furrowed as she listened to the static-filled transmission, the connection barely holding.

"Rex," she repeated, more firmly this time. "Where are you? I thought you were—" Her voice caught, her mind racing. "I thought you were light-years away, on the far edge of the galaxy. You shouldn't be anywhere near here."

There was a pause on the other end, the sound of heavy breathing mingling with the crackle of static. Then Rex's voice came through again, quieter this time, weighted with something she couldn't quite place.

"I know," he said. "I shouldn't be here. But things have changed. I... I'm back. In our galaxy."

Sayuri's heart skipped a beat. "You're back?" Her mind whirled with questions. "Rex, what's happened? Why would you return now? It's too dangerous—"

"There's no time to explain," Rex cut her off, his tone urgent. "I'm on Ord Mantell. You need to come. We need to talk... in person."

Ord Mantell. The name tugged at her memory, conjuring images of shadowy alleys, bustling streets, and hidden corners where secrets were exchanged. It was a dangerous place, a smuggler's haven, and a risky location for any former clone to be lingering.

"Rex," she started, but before she could say more, the comlink began to fizzle, the connection breaking apart.

"Sayuri... can you hear me?" His voice was fragmented now, distant.

"Rex! You're breaking up," she said, pressing the device closer to her ear. "I'll call you back—"

But the line went dead.

Sayuri lowered the comlink slowly, her mind still racing. She sat there for a moment in silence, the weight of Rex's sudden reappearance pressing down on her. She hadn't expected to hear from him again, let alone to be summoned back into the tangled mess of the galaxy's conflicts.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft rustling sound behind her.

"Sayuri."

She turned sharply, her heart skipping a beat as her gaze met Anakin's. He was sitting up, wide awake, his sharp blue eyes locked on her with an intensity that made her pause. The firelight from the dying embers cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the familiar lines of his features—lines that had hardened over time, carved by grief and regret.

"What was that?" he asked, his voice quiet but firm.

Sayuri hesitated, slipping the comlink into her cloak as she rose to her feet. Her mind raced, weighing what to tell him. Anakin wasn't the same man he had been when they'd fought side by side during the Clone Wars. He was freer now, unshackled from both the Jedi and the Empire, but the wounds of the past still lingered.

"A message," she said simply. "From an old friend."

Anakin's gaze didn't waver. "Rex?"

Sayuri blinked, surprised by his intuition. "How did you—?"

"I know Rex," Anakin said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "He's stubborn. He wouldn't let you go without a fight."

Sayuri crossed her arms, her expression softening. "He's on Ord Mantell. He wants me to meet him."

Anakin nodded slowly, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. "Then we go together."

"Anakin—" Sayuri started to protest, but he cut her off.

"You're not going alone," he said firmly. "Not this time."

There was no arguing with him, not when he set his mind to something. And in truth, she didn't want to argue. For all her strength and independence, the idea of facing the unknown with Anakin by her side brought a sense of comfort she hadn't realized she needed.

"Alright," she said softly. "We go together."

Anakin's smile widened just a fraction, a rare glimpse of the man she had once known. "Then let's get moving."