1. Initiate
The first time Kit Fisto could remember being actively underestimated was at his first tournament. He was still an initiate, facing then-recent padawan Agen Kolar.
Kit loved being a Jedi from the beginning.
There was so much to learn and so many people to learn from. He loved swimming and sparring and meditating and yes, some of it was a little boring but being a Jedi just felt right to him.
As they grew some of his crèchemates started to imitate their favorite teachers, moving sedately and bowing politely to each other. Kit saw masters coo from around corners sometimes.
He started to change too, as all growing beings did. His movements became more fluid, precise enough he was moved to a more advanced class. He didn’t start to tuck his hands in his sleeves or hold his head up with dignity. There was plenty of time for that later.
Eventually, he found himself facing Agen Kolar. They’d never met before, just enough standard years between them to make extended contact between them unlikely. At least until they were much older. Kit’s instructors were impressed with his progress, though, and let him join the fun.
Kit couldn’t help but grin across the mat. It was a challenge, to face someone with years more experience, but one he relished. For his part, Padawan Kolar glanced over at the officiant, a dubious expression on his face.
The officiant nodded, confirming the match.
Kit tightened his grip on his lightsaber, a little frustrated at his opponent’s assessment. After all, the matches had been organized with care and his instructor had gotten special permission for Kit’s participation.
He lost, a smooth transition from defense to offense he’d never faced before that knocked him off balance just enough to shatter his careful guard, but took pride in the fact he’d clearly held out longer than expected.
Padawan Kolar helped him up.
“You did good.” He muttered, somewhat awkward. “It was… a nice challenge.”
“Could you teach me that last move?” Kit asked.
Padawan Kolar nodded as they completed their bows.
2. Padawan
The second time Kit was really too distracted wishing his master was there to be terribly offended.
He registered Padawan Koon’s stumble and small hiss of pain as he stepped in front to defend him.
Their masters weren’t here to protect them but he could fight too. They just needed to hold out a little longer.
He took stock of their opponents from behind his ready stance and saw their leader's expression shift to something triumphant, as if she’d already won.
Kit recognized her, from the stately dinner the night before. She had asked him if he was worried and he’d said he wasn’t. That worrying in advance did no one any good. She’d smiled and he’d felt a little like she was mocking him when she said that he was very wise for his age.
Now, he saw the condescension drip into something actually sinister. The look of a person that didn’t just think he was a naive teenling missing some life experience but that his inexperience was going to kill him. The look of a person who really wanted to see him fall.
Somehow, it struck him that she was the arrogant one, so confident in her own perspective she was missing the point. They’d spoken for only a few moments. She thought she knew what he was capable of? Just because he smiled and joked with the waiter handing out drinks while his master made serious conversation?
He took a deep breath.
There were so many of them. She didn’t even know this was his strength.
Plo wasn’t focusing his studies on Shii-Cho. Kit was.
She stopped smiling, eventually.
3. Knight
“C’mon, you understand!” The smuggler smiled. He tried to match Kit’s body language but couldn’t quite manage to untense enough to get the same effect. “It’s not that big of a deal, right? Just a little spice.”
Kit tilted his head, neither agreeing or disagreeing. They both knew it wasn’t just a little spice. He wondered how long this one would convince himself Kit didn’t know about the rest of the cargo.
“You seem like a nice guy.” The smuggler continued, taking a step back. “Everybody’s gotta eat, you know.”
“That’s true.” Kit agreed, and took a step forward.
The smuggler nodded hard, his smile starting to strain at the edges. “Right, so, you know. I was thinking. I’ve seen the error of my ways! You let me go, I’ll go back to my parents, apologize for running off and getting involved with that gang, work the farm again. You know, turn my life around!” He took another nervous step back. “I really feel bad for calling my mom all those names and they’re getting up there in years.”
“What’s in there?” Kit asked, his voice vaguely curious but not at all suspicious.
“Oh, that’s nothing, just– the kitchen. Pretty empty. I don’t cook much.” The smuggler didn’t turn to look at the door, failing to hide the flinch when a thump sounded through the ship from the room beyond. Kit had already passed the ship’s kitchens. They both knew that. “Or, uh, I know! I could cut you in? I think there’s a good pallet’s worth here that could go missing, no one’s the wiser. It’s all top quality stuff I promise, good credits if you know who to get it to.”
“Really?” Kit pretended to consider this for a moment and then darted forward, ignoring the smuggler’s nervous protests to force open the locked door to the ‘kitchen’ with his lightsaber. “Can I have that one?” He pointed to the cages sitting on the floor.
The animals looked unhurt, which was good. The little youngling was crying through a gag, which was not. But Kit had found them, that was enough for now.
The smuggler was smart enough to know he wasn’t talking his way out of it now and gave running a try.
He didn’t make it very far.
4. Master
Kit found assassins tended to underestimate him more often than other criminals. He had a few theories as to why. The personalities that found success in the profession perhaps. The likelihood of some degree of experience with Jedi before him was another possibility. They got away sometimes, more than sometimes.
There were a few who liked to try their skills against Jedi just for the thrill of it all.
The ones that had just enough skill to get cocky but not enough experience to have had a real scare yet tended to think they could tell what a skilled Jedi looked like at a glance.
That was never a wise thought, in Kit’s opinion.
The only Jedi that outsiders could tell the skill level of at a glance were padawans and even a padawan was often more dangerous than any ignorant passerby might give them credit for.
“I wonder… What color do you bleed, Jedi?” The assassin inquired, moving her head back and forth in a manner Kit knew humans tended to find intimidating. It looked a little like the underwater dances his crèchemates choreographed as children.
“The usual, why?” He put on his most charming smile. “Are you offering to compare?” He wondered if there was a new rumor about the Jedi going around. The idea made him a little uncomfortable. He wasn’t meaningfully different from any other Nautolan just because he was Force sensitive but it was hard to correct rumors once they’d started to spread.
She licked her blade. It was probably supposed to be terrifying.
The governor cowering behind Kit’s back clearly thought so if the squeak was any indication.
She lunged fast, but not faster than Kit could match. It was clear to him she was expecting him to flinch back, maybe even hoping for another shot at her target. He blocked her strike and pushed her back.
She lunged again, like she was aiming for another attempt, only to skirt around the side and leap for the window.
Kit smiled at his padawan, using the assassin’s surprise at Nahdar’s place blocking her planned escape route to incapacitate her.
They so rarely checked for anyone else.
+1
“You know…” Qui-Gon started, waiting for Plo’s sound of acknowledgement before he continued. “I heard this fascinating term the last time I was over in Corellia.”
Kit continued his stretching with a smile.
“What’s that?” Plo tilted his head, inspecting his training gear for loose pieces.
“They described it as the way people treat those they find especially beautiful.” Qui-Gon said.
“Is that so?” Plo politely inquired.
“Our companion has wondered,” he tipped his chin in Kit’s direction, “why his opponents seem to underestimate him so often.”
“Because they’re convinced serious people don’t smile?” Kit posited.
“I have a different theory.” Qui-Gon finally lost his battle with his expression and allowed a small amused smirk as he announced: “Pretty privilege.”
“I see.” Plo nodded solemnly.
“Pretty privilege!?” Kit squawked in outrage.
“No need to worry, Master Fisto.” Plo intoned. “Your fellow Jedi are immune, we shall ensure that you are taken seriously. Proper robes or no.”
Kit slumped into his final stretch dramatically.
“I might be slacking.” Kit said and blinked his eyes winningly at the two of them. “You never know, maybe you should just take it easy on me this time? See what happens?”
Plo said nothing, but years spent together meant Kit easily read the doubt in his body language.
Qui-Gon huffed, an amused smile on his face.
“Well, it was worth a shot.” Kit shrugged and darted forward.