The young Nautolan got a welcome respite away from the Anzati when the youngling padawan had gone to see the protocol droid about a change of clothing. All the while discussing different options for what he could do for a [i]padawan braid[/i]. It was obviously something Sor-Jan put a great deal of thought into, making it somewhat starkly contrasting for Zak to realize just how little thought he'd put into his own advancement. He'd been [i]Jedi[/i] for as long as he could remember. Growing up in the temple. Learning their ways. Committing their traditions to memory. He knew that he would have to prove himself in the youngling trials sooner or later, but it had never been about that.

Zak didn't wear Jedi robes. He knew some aquatic Jedi did, such as Master Fisto, but the loose, flowing fabric garments weren't intended for wear underwater. Instead, he wore Mon Cal, Quarren, or Nautolan tunics which were made of a water-repellant leather and sleeveless, so to leave the arms free for swimming. This allowed him the freedom to move between land and water without need to change clothes. A broad belt cinched the simple garment at the waist, from which the training lightsaber hung. That is, until his hand moved up to touch it.

The cylinder was cool to the touch. The metal inviting, as the crystal inside seemed to bait his subconscious mind. He was like an addict cradling a favorite drug. The presence of the lightsaber was reassuring, and yet, simply touching it was not enough to satisfy the [i]need[/i] that he felt. Before he'd even been aware of what he'd done, the training saber was unclipped and held in his hand.

It's weight felt [b]good[/b]. Good in a way that was numbing to the concerns and anxieties that he had been feeling. As he twirled the metal cylinder in his hand, all doubt seemed to melt away.

He just wanted to [i]serve[/i]. Youngling, padawan... The titles weren't important to him. 

With a distinctive [i]snap[/i] the lightsaber was brought to life. The vibrant blue blade reflected in the black eyes of the aquatic youth. The training device sang out in song as the youth idly spun the blade, letting one motion flow naturally into a second, as the speed and intensity of the sound building in the air gradually grew into a masterpiece crescendo. 

Maybe that was why Sor-Jan's attitude bothered him. A title was something so [i]trivial[/i], but being a padawan obviously meant so much to Sor-Jan. It was an honor to be a padawan, but a padawan's place was still to learn and to serve. That wasn't much different from the Jedi initiate, except now Sor-Jan would have a personal tutor. So why didn't Zak feel the same?

Except all of the teachers were dead, weren't they? So, even as a youngling, Zak would still need to attention of a particular Jedi to learn. There wasn't a clan. There was only Zak now. So he supposed he was a padawan without the title, because there was no one else to teach him and no one else to be taught.

So if he was a padawan by default, did that make it mean any more? Did it mean any less?

Throwing the live blade behind his back, the young swordsman nimbly caught the blade in his other hand and transitioned seamlessly into a Soresu guard, blending the guard into an orbit, and then letting the motion -- letting the [i]emotion[/i] -- flow through his body as he let go and allowed the Force to shape his movements.

No, it still didn't matter. He just wanted to learn and to serve. Particularly now. The galaxy needed Jedi now more than ever.