I don't remember my parents. Not their faces, not their voices. What I remember is the day Death Watch found me. The smoke. The fear. The helmet that bent down and offered a hand.
They told me I was saved. Told me I had a new family now. A new purpose.
Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been. Would I have been happy? A farmer? A mechanic? Someone who sleeps without armor, who takes off their helmet in front of others without thinking twice?
But then I touch my sigil. Feel the weight of my creed.
I am Din Djarin. I am a Mandalorian. The foundling who was found.
That is enough.
This is the way.