By the time I was eight, I was already what the Mandalorians called a "problem."
Not because I was a brat—though I was, proudly—but because I kept breaking the laws of physics. And I did it with flair.
"What the kriff is that kid doing!?"
That was Ba'ar Vizla. Again.
I was standing upside-down on a training pole, shirtless, balancing a flat iron pan full of boiling water on my toes.
Don't judge me. Chakra control drills are a time-honored ninja tradition.
"You know," I said casually, "if you all used chakra, you wouldn't have to strap rocket engines to your backs like lunatics."
He growled. "We're warriors. We don't use magic."
"It's not magic. It's science. With hand signs."
"Still sounds like sorcery."
I flipped down, poured the now ice-cold water into a canteen, and winked. "You're just mad you can't do this."
I froze the canteen lid shut with a flick of my fingers.
He left muttering something about "adopting a Force-warped icicle gremlin."
Discovering the Core
I knew I had chakra since I could form hand seals naturally from age three. But until recently, it was mostly instinctual.
So I started meditating daily in my ice cavern, seated on a sheet of chakra-frozen water that hovered midair. It was like floating on a memory. Cold, but weightless.
There, I worked on feeling my tenketsu, the chakra nodes inside my body. Bit by bit, I gained control. My internal chakra coils were… off. Sharper than a shinobi's. More potent.
Maybe it was because this body was born in the Star Wars universe? Maybe it absorbed the Force… or something like it?
I couldn't use the Force, but I could feel something whispering at the edge of perception.
Something ancient. Watching.
Creepy.
So I did what any shinobi reincarnate would do:
I ignored it and kept training.
First Technique: Snow Clone
Not a Shadow Clone. That was still beyond me for now. Chakra control had to be exact. This one was simpler.
Hand signs: Tiger → Rat → Boar → Dog → Ram.
"Hyōton: Yuki Bunshin no Jutsu!" (Ice Style: Snow Clone Technique)
A copy of me appeared, made entirely of compact snow and chakra.
It saluted.
"Reporting for duty, Commander Coolpants."
I raised an eyebrow. "Did you just call me—?"
"I'm literally you, genius. I know what you were thinking."
"Don't sass me."
"Make me."
I punched it. It exploded into snowflakes.
So yeah. I invented a sentient snow clone. First try.
Downside? It inherited my sarcasm.
Sealing Madness
Next up: fuinjutsu.
Now, sealing was fun. Especially with Mandalorian tech around. I made chakra-powered blaster capsules, scroll grenades, and even a pocket scroll that released hot soup.
My favorite invention? A scroll that stored insults.
Yes. Actual audio insults. With different triggers.
One time, during a sparring session, my opponent tagged me with a training knife.
The scroll on my belt activated and said:
"Congratulations. You stabbed a 9-year-old. Your parents must be so proud."
He cried. I had to apologize. Still worth it.
Kenjutsu + Mandalorian Armor = Overkill
Mandalorians loved weapons. So I played along.
I forged a blade of beskar-steel alloyed with ice-infused chakra, laced with seal patterns that adjusted its density.
It wasn't a lightsaber—yet—but it vibrated with cold energy and chakra flow.
Using chakra to enhance my strikes became second nature. Each slash froze the air. Each parry misted the surroundings.
My style blended Leaf sword stances with the brutal elegance of Mandalorian knife fighting.
I called it:
"Frost Fang Style."
Ba'ar Vizla called it:
"Show-off snow twirling."
He wasn't wrong.
Oops, Jedi
So here's the thing. I might have caused a chakra surge big enough to trigger a Force-sensitive's senses.
A week later, a Republic diplomatic envoy landed.
With them? A Jedi Padawan.
She was maybe 14, green robe, blue saber, and that look Jedi always have when they think they're in charge.
She stared at me like I was a Sithspawn.
"You… don't have the Force," she said, narrowing her eyes.
"Nope."
"But you're… not normal."
"Neither is a Gungan politician, but here we are."
She looked deeply disturbed.
"Your energy… it's cold. Alive. Flowing."
"Yeah, that's what happens when you use chakra instead of waving your hand and saying 'the Force wills it'."
She reported to her Master. He said I was "a potential threat but not aligned with the Dark Side."
So naturally, I sealed a snowball in a scroll and left it on their ship. It exploded mid-atmosphere.
Somewhere in the galaxy, a Jedi is still confused about how a snowball hit their windshield in space.
A New Path
At night, I meditated with the permafrost crystal.
It pulsed stronger each day, attuned to my chakra, growing in resonance.
It wasn't just a crystal anymore. It was part of me.
When I activated it with chakra, it created a glowing blue-white blade of frozen light—not a saber beam, but a sword of focused cold plasma. Silent. Deadly.
My lightsaber sword. Frost-bound. Chakra-driven.
No Jedi. No Sith.
Just me.
Kama Vizla.
Snow brat. Shinobi. Mandalorian.
End of Chapter 2