I tell you Obi-Wan Kenobi.

You'd think, "hello there."
What you would also think is the respected Jedi Master, Council member and High General, a figurehead of the calm Jedi.

But if we dive before that, before Obi-Wan became a Padawan, then you would see someone else.

Grandmaster Yoda's bane.

-----

"Do, or do not, there is no try."

"Kenobi, Obi-Wan!" Grandmaster Yoda's voice echoed through the classroom, "this disrespect, stop it, you must!"

"Sorry, Grandmaster," Obi-Wan apologise, ducking his head to hide the grin that covered his face at the sniggers of his fellow Younglings. He yelped as he felt the nobbly wood of the Grandmaster's walking stick hit him on the knee.

"Learn, you must, respect, you do not have," Yoda stated, using the stick to lift the Youngling's head.

"Yes, Grandmaster," Obi-Wan stated, "sorry, Grandmaster."

"Good, Kenobi, Obi-Wan," Yoda stated before walking away and out of the room as he spoke, "collect, the creche master, I will. Return shortly; I will."

"Return shortly; I will," Obi-Wan copied at a mock, waiting for the Grandmaster to be a safe distance away. It turns out that safe space was not enough as the Grandmaster's stick came flying at him, getting him across the other knee before flying back to the hands of the bean again.

"Are you trying to make yourself a target?" Vos asked.

"Is it working?"

"Yes," the other Younglings hissed, "now, why?"

"Then none of you will be the target; you'll get masters when I am a lost cause already."

"Don't talk about yourself like that, Obi!" Vos reprimanded.

"It's only true," Obi-Wan muttered before the creche master walked back into the room.

"We will be taking a flight to one of the distant parks of the outer cities," the creche master stated, "everyone, form an orderly line and follow me."

The line was going smoothly before Obi-Wan saw his opportunity; another line of Younglings was coming the other way. This allowed him a chance to slip out of the line quickly, escaping having to fly.

-----

"We're missing one," the creche master muttered, counting everyone again, "has anyone seem Youngling Kenobi," they spoke to the group.

"No, creche master," the younglings answered, looking around the room.

Shaking their head, the creche master dialled their comm to the universal frequency, "Youngling Kenobi has gone missing, please ring in if any sightings have been seen."

"Did you speak about flying?" Came the crackling voice of a master down the line, "he has a fear of falling, hence the fear of flying."

"I did," the creche master stated, reprimanding themselves, "do you have a suggestion as to where the Youngling is?"

"He could be anywhere in the Temple," the master's voice came, "only the Grandmaster has ever been able to find him. Comm him and check."

All the Younglings faces paled, Obi-Wan was going to be in so much trouble if the Grandmaster would have to be called in again.

Dialling in the new code, the creche master spoke, "Grandmaster, sorry to bother you again, but Youngling Kenobi has gone missing, and you were the one suggested to help."

"No worries, creche master. Found him, I have. Bringing him, I am," Yoda's voice came.

"Thank you, Grandmaster."

"Thank me not, over, the work is not," Yoda spoke before shutting off the comm.

It wasn't a long time before Yoda was seen to be leading a very embarrassed Obi-Wan towards the group. As the rest of the Younglings piled into the aircraft, Obi-Wan froze, only moving as Yoda smacked his stick into the boy's heel.

"On, you must. Wasted time, you have, already," Yoda commanded sternly.

"I don't like flying, Grandmaster," Obi-Wan stated.

"Onto the ship, you will, or drink my tea, choose, will you?" Yoda stated.

Obi-Wan blushed as he hurried onto the ship, "I'm on the ship, can I get off?"

"Drink my stew, will you?"

Obi-Wan's face went sickly pale and green as he rapidly shook his head.

"Stay, maybe Mandalorian language, we find," Yoda stated, watching as the boy's eyes shined, "after the flight, only. And no complaint, should I hear. Gone, if you complain."

Obi-Wan looked like he'd just been handed his favourite sweet, only to have it unlawfully ripped from his hands. And for it only to be returned if he does the impossible.

"Hold me, if you must, Youngling Kenobi," the creche master stated, standing to move next to the boy, grunting as a vice grip wrapped around their stomach.

"Continue, you will now," Yoda stated, watching as the doors closed and the aircraft took off to a shaky flight. His ears rang from the scared squeal from within the steel doors of that same moving aircraft. "Once more, if called I am, to 'assist' with that boy," Yoda growled, "then the target, they are also. Practice, my hits; I must."

The few Jedi near the Grandmaster at that time took a collective gulp, backing away from the annoyed Jedi Master. The stick might just be that much more terrifying than the lightsaber.

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