Chapter Text
“There was no father.” In another universe, Shmi words could have been recognised as a standard explanation any slave mother, a person that has only as many rights as their owners give them, would say when politely telling a stranger that they really don’t want to know the answer to their questions. Here the truth is a little bit more litteral.
Half of her son's actual midichlorians are busy stabilizing his DNA.The only reason he is male is because the chromosome Y is shorter than X and as such less effort to maintain. Bless his maternal grandfather's genes for his looks. The medical droid who did the boy scans at the Temple didn’t notice anything amiss because midichlorians are normally always recognizable within someone's blood work, not hiding right in the literal middle of their cells.
Anakin being himself, it is a miracle that he didn’t need a blood transfusion during his early years and mostly only got bruises, electrocutions, burns and cauterised wounds before his knighting. Nothing that bacta or a prohestetic couldn’t fix.
Thankfully, Shmi was human and her blood type was the same as Jango Fett.
Rex is his first blood donor ever. A single liter drawn by Kix in the medbay. Easily fixable double aging aside, the clone is in the human higher percentile for about everything a great soldier and leader might need while at war, as planned by the Kaminonians who created the man and his millions of brothers. It is more than good enough to start completing the Chosen One DNA.
Sadly for the nerves of the poor medic in charge, on scanners it looks as if the blood just transfused is vanishing. Sadly for Vokara Che future sanity at the Temple once she runs her own tests, there are now a lot more midichlorians on the loose in the patient body. This will also influence the patient's health and capacities in unpredictable and unknown ways. Sadly for non Jedi natborn medical professionals, none of them will be on site for any of these instances.
DNA is not only found in blood, it is in hair roots, bone marrow and every organ of the body, including skin. More members of the 501st are called in a panic to give blood. Their General is a tall young man and it takes nine liters before things stabilise. Happily for everyone peace of mind, the great deshydratation from the battle efforts is the only other thing that vanishes during this.
Anakin isn’t even twenty-one yet, the age at which his species stops growing.