Once upon a time in a galaxy far far away…
There was a boy born to blindness. His father was a disheveled gangster who worked, or at least was beholden to, Ilithor the Hutt.
On tattoine, if one is not a moisture farmer or mechanic or black marketeer, one’s options for steady income can be hard pressed. Gambling for some, passes the time, but for others it leads to unpayable debts.
It was this that led to Zatoshazza to be muscle for Ilithor. He did bad things for a living, but his heart was pure, and every spare dime that wasn’t given to Ilithor was spent on data disks his blind son could scan to learn about the wider universe and all its marvels.
The boy was a voracious scanner of data disks and his father loved to see his son smile and the excitement at each disk given. Zatoichi had an input jack that connected to the sight receptors of his brain and though his physical eyes long became useless, his young mind greedily gobbled up every piece of information these disks carried. His father had accumulated a library for him. From jedi training to long lost philosophical debate, Zatoichi loved it all. He just didn’t love it, somehow he could incorporate it through his will to manifest it into his reality. This small boy, blind and all, marooned on a outer rim world, was one of the most powerful jedi the universe would come to know.
But the force is balanced, and so though this amazing power was within this young and small and blind vessel, he was very very humble and as merciful to butterflies as he was to the bullies in the neighborhood.
Zatoichi, 9 years old walking about with his walking stick for as he pondered deep thoughts he found his legs would carry him about in some mesmerizing meditative autopiloted manner.
One such day brought him to the scream of a young girl, not 2 years younger than him. He sensed 3 older boys standing over her and he stayed unnoticed in the periphery.
“Hi little bitch. Is your whore mother around for a spin?”
Some folks in the outer rim had to make ends meet at the cost of their dignity and yet still more passed their time rubbing salt in the wounds of the morally compromised.
The little lion girl put her hands on her hips defiant with strawberry blonde curls she stood in the light of the two suns of tatooine with her lion like hair she screamed at the top of her lungs,”Buzz off slime-o!”
“You kiss your mother with that mouth, you little red maggot?”
The firey child launched herself at the much taller much fatter foe and began to launch, in her mind, her most powerful assaults. To the big fat bully it was just a seven year old smacking a 14 year old. “Don’t touch me you little witch!” He shoved her hard to the ground and the child got the wind knocked out of her. Big and heavy tears of injustice ran down her cheeks.
Zatoich felt a heat build inside him that must have been akin to a term he had scanned called pressure. It built and built and before he knew it, he approached the big fat bully.
The bully still did not notice Zatoichi’s approach and towered over the red lion little girl sucking up her pain and anguish like how ,in Zatoichi’s mind Illithor the Hutt must do.
It wasn’t anger though that moved Zatoichi to action but the imbalance of power before him. Just as the bully went to kick the little red lion girl, Zatoichi blocked it with his walking stick in a powerful horse stance, with head bowed in shadow.
Zatoichi moved impossibly fast to the fat and towering bully’s perspective and just for a moment he considered his great error in persecuting the little girl. He pondered inwardly an refused to face the fact that the true reason for his wrath was his anger. His own father was cheating on his mother with the little girl’s mother. He gazed at the little boy’s white gaze with no pupils. “Hey guys, look at this little blind rat. Are you a hero come to save the day?” He lashed out with a wild haymaker. The bully wanted to make an example of the blind boy. He wanted to hurt him for igniting the thoughts in his mind of his father’s infidelity.
Zatoichi responded calmly, “I am balance.” He spun like a whirlwind that caught the bull in the ankle and swept his feet in the air to collapse in the dust. His friends saw him fall and with jaws dropped they ran.
Zatoichi approached the red lion girl. “Are you OK my friend?” His dark curly hair blew in the desert wind and the little red lion girl reached her hand to his.
“I’m OK.” She wiped the dust off of her and smiled at the blind boy. She just knew in her gut they were going to be good friends.
13 years later Lana the lion girl strode through the market place of dathomir confidently. Her blind companion tailed her with his dark green jedi cloak drawn low, covering his dark cherubim curls. Lana was approaching the head of the market to foster a deal that would insure any food not sold would be donated to the homeless shelter making sure the street children would eat regularly forever.
However, the head of the pickpocket arm of the thieves guild depended on the hunger of the children and exploited it regularly. Soetoro started out as an abandoned child and ended up a cold rotten hearted cancer of a Gamorian. He spoke perfect common tongue, but still drooled as profusely as his brethren guards at Jabba’s palace. He learned early in the street that it was his will and unattachment to moral codes that insured his rise to power and success. He was a very pale sickly green, with tufts of red hair the popped out of the tips of his ears. His eyes were black, not a shred of white to be found.
He had sacrificed his goodness and compassion and friends and family to be the head of the pickpockets and would not relent to this lion bitch outsider.
He was not obese like his countrymen. He was athletic and tone. He stepped out from the shadows to block Lana’s path. “Lana, I gave you more than anyone else a chance to drop this little humanitarian effort. The kids are mine, and I feed them. I love them like they were my own litter. I give them purpose. I give them responsibility. They work for their food. They earn their food.” His smile was a dark and smelly tomb of lies.
Lana did not flinch. She turned up her head at the foul beast, balled her fist and spoke plain truth to the pig. “You’re not the first slaver I’ve met. Your lies may work on the provincial imperial governor, but they won’t work on me, slime-o. Making these kids steal for you is the least of what you take from them. From the ones you think are pretty. The ones you mold to turn a profit in other ways. The street speaks slime-o. Outta the way. Your rule over these children is over.”
Soetoro’s smile turned into a impossibly low frown. “Kill her.” An eruption of blaster fire erupted from adjoining rooftops.
It saddened Zatoichi to know that more than a few of the shooters were long abused and indoctrinated children with intense Stockholm Syndrome. He quieted his mind and allowed his hero to enter his mind. The pointy eared little green jedi master known as yoda.