Archive of Our Own ^beta

Lines of orange light illuminated the attic in the warm afternoon sun, giving the room a soft glow. The small cracks in the wall were apparent from the lack of care the house has had in the near past. Edgeworth grunted as he lowered another heavy box to ground, barely managing to set it down gently. He sighed, it had been his idea to go back to his childhood home, that had avoided being sold thanks to one Raymond Shields, and sift through his father's belongings. What was he looking for? Maybe to relive some fond memories, or get some closure. Either way he was already there.

The label on the box read "Miles" in faded black sharpie. He pushed it to the side. He was about to move on to another when a box darker than the rest caught his eye, under the spot the labelled box had just been. He pulled it out of the corner with a little difficulty, it didn't seem like it'd been moved in a good while. Taking a closer look revealed that the 'box' wasn't actually a box, but rather a black travel trunk. He was surprised to note that it looked large enough to fit a small man. He didn't think he'd ever seen it before, even in his childhood, but there was no doubt it had been there then. In his curiosity he rolled the upright trunk onto it's side and began to undo the latches keeping it closed.

The first thing that greeted him inside was an old-fashioned, rather fancy looking white suit. It exuded an air of royalty. It wasn't in that bad of a condition, but the style betrayed it's age. His guess was that it belonged to the Victorian era, or something along those lines. On top of it lay a piece of faded red cloth, a kind of necktie, perhaps? He gently lifted the fine fabrics out of the trunk and set them aside.

Deeper in the trunk were a few framed photographs, a cat-shaped doll of some sorts, a very old cup-hilted sword, some thick books that, on closer inspection, happened to be remarkably thick law tomes, and a well-worn red journal. Glancing at the sword and the law books, he was quite curious about who these belonged to now. An ancestor, maybe? He scowled, realizing he had no one left to ask. His gaze flitted to the red journal. Perhaps it held the answers he sought?

Gingerly picking up the leather-bound journal, he opened it, and was met with neat handwriting...in a language he couldn't read. It was probably Japanese or Chinese, which was strange because he'd always assumed his family to be English, considering that's where his grandparents had been from. Or... Was he wrong to assume these belonged to someone from his family?

Eyes narrowing in concentration, he started flipping through the pages, mindful of the journal's age. There were a good number of pages in the same handwriting with dates in the corner, like a diary of some sort. There was maybe a month's worth of logs written like that. After that was a page in considerably messier writing that Edgeworth, with all his graphology expertise, was sure had been written by someone else. Now, if only he could read it as well... Ah!

After said page came a log in English. Miles noted that the date was about a year later than the last page with a date, and the intermission page didn't have a date at all. He flipped through the pages a bit more and saw that some of them were written in a mix of English and the language from before. A quick Google search revealed that the language was most probably Japanese. He went back to the first log in English and began reading.

"I never thought I'd see this j our nal again. Looking back at it now... I will not hide anything from it, this time."

It looked like the writer paused for a second there, to write the second bit with great reverence. The reader did the same.

"I can't believe he kept it for me all this time." A long-dried pooling of ink where the pen rested for a few seconds, "No, that's so much like him, actually. Well, Naruhodou, if you were so worried about me never getting to fill up the pages... Then I will, for you. Perhaps I'll tell you someday, when I finish it."

One page in and he already felt like he was intruding upon something not meant for his eyes. He closed the journal, feeling a strange sense of dread pool in his stomach. "Perhaps I'll tell you someday, when I finish it."

The journal still had some empty pages left.

Well, that didn't have to mean something grave. He wished it didn't. He didn't know why, but he felt close to the writer of these entries already. He thought about putting the earlier entries and the rest of the Japanese through a translator, but ultimately decided that a jumbled translation would be disrespectful to the source.

Slipping the journal into his coat's inner pocket, he picked up one of the framed photos to look at. It was of a young boy and a man, who he assumed to be the boy's father, standing side by side. It reminded him of one of his photos with his father, and he wondered if the man in the picture was the owner of the journal. Underneath that one was another photo, in it the same boy, albeit a bit older and with a young girl at his side. He noted the much more somber expression on the boy's face.

Beneath those two was one that didn't have a frame. It was well worn. In the picture five figures stood at a dock, smiling at the camera. The hairstyle of the boy from the earlier photos was unmistakable, and he stood proudly in a white suit. The white suit that was in the trunk, Edgeworth realized. So, this person was the owner. Next to him was a man in a black...suit? Uniform? He was smiling earnestly, and though Miles couldn't tell why, he looked strangely familiar. The rest of the people in the picture included who he thought to be the young girl from the other picture grown up, a light haired man whose appearance screamed 'European', and a young girl with a bow for hair in a cute Victorian dress. He flipped the photo over to find some names written on the back.

"Kazuma Asougi, Ryuunosuke Naruhodou, Susato Mikotoba, Iris Watson, Sherlock Holmes, London, 1900."

Edgeworth did a second-take at "Sherlock Holmes". Huh... Perhaps the man was simply an avid fan?

He considered the rest of the names again and brought together all he knew so far.

The trunk belonged to a Japanese man, the one wearing the white suit in the picture. He thought about the journal's contents. The man had mentioned a "Naruhodou"... So, that would make the man in black Ryuunosuke Naruhodou. Belatedly, he realized the names were written in the order of the people in the photo.

Kazuma Asougi... He couldn't say the name rang any bells. He sighed, slipping the picture into his pocket as well, putting everything neatly inside again, and latching the trunk closed once more.

He spent some more time going through more boxes, thorougly exhausted by the time he made it to his apartment.

---------

Over the next couple of days Edgeworth found himself thinking about the journal's contents, curiosity gnawing at his very soul.

"-and then I said...Edgeworth? Hey, Edgeworth, are you listening?" Edgeworth was startled back into reality by Wright's poking at his arm. It was another one of their meet-ups at eachother's flats, and the warm atmosphere in the kitchen hadn't been very helpful at keeping Miles grounded in the present.

Phoenix looked at him with curiosity in his eyes. "Say, what's been on your mind lately? You've been awfully spacey." he said jokingly.

Edgeworth debated whether or not the matter was worth bringing up, before deciding to tell Phoenix anyways.

"I...I might've told you this before, but a few days ago I went to my old home, you might remember it from when we were kids, and I had a look through the things in the attic." at Phoenix's interested hum, he continued, "Among those things was this." He pulled the red journal out from the pocket of his coat that was hanging from the back of the chair and put it down on the table.

Phoenix looked at it with great interest as Miles elaborated, "Some of the writing in it appears to be in Japanese, so I've just been thinking about it a lot." He quieted, looking like he wanted to say more but not knowing how it would be recieved. To his surprise, he saw Phoenix perking up.

"Japanese, you say?" Phoenix grinned at him. Miles raised an eyebrow, he would scold Wright for
making fun of him if he didn't know the look on his face so well, the one that screamed 'I know something you don't'. Phoenix's grin widened impossibly, almost like he knew what Miles was thinking.

"Well, Miles Edgeworth, nice to meet you," he leaned forward, "my name's Phoenix Ryuuichi Wright."

Edgeworth's expression could only be described as 'dumbfounded'. Phoenix snorted. "I-I'm Japanese, Edgeworth. This is the part where you're supposed to ask me to translate it for you."

"Y-You're Japanese?" Miles asked, bewildered. "Well, technically, I'm Asian-American but my family is really keen on preserving our culture and what-not so I know Japanese pretty well." Wright said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Edgeworth sighed fondly as he pushed the journal towards Phoenix. "Well then, Ryuuichi, might I ask you for a translation?"

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The next hour was spent going through mundane logs of a journey on a steamship, and Miles almost felt foolish for making such a big deal out of something so ordinary.

That is, until they got to the intermission of who he now knew to be Ryuunosuke Naruhodou. The page itself was a deeply heartfelt message to a dear friend, making references to a grave event that's been resolved, and even though Miles and Phoenix didn't know what it was, they related to it quite a deal. Phoenix shed a single tear reading the last part and Miles couldn't quite say he was that far behind him. Mr. Naruhodou had quite a way with words, it seemed.

Now, the rest of the journal took a sudden turn for the emotional, from Mr. Asougi's perspective. Miles should've expected that, however, considering the first part of the journal's clinical note-taking was nothing like the page he had read in English.

What he couldn't have expected, however, was just how emotional it would get. It seemed Mr. Asougi had been quite the lonely man, a Japanese person living in the Great British Empire, burying his feelings between two leather covers. Most of it had been in English, the part where he talked about his cases, (he also happened to be a prosecutor, it seemed) and the parts in Japanese were...

At first, it was a comment or two about how much he missed his friends. Well, it looked like the 'friends' had been more of an afterthought, the name 'Naruhodou' bright on the paper.

Then, as the entries spiralled into the melancholy of loneliness and homesickness, the tidbits in Japanese became brokenly romantic, the yearning in Asougi's heart shining as bright as the necktie in the trunk once was. Why, there were even a few poems sprinkled in there. Towards the end Miles' heart filled with a strange sense of sorrow, somehow knowing that Asougi hadn't been able to tell Naruhodou about the journal after all.

Once they were done reading, Phoenix looked up at Miles. "It's strangely romantic, isn't it?"

Miles' brows furrowed. "Well, it'd be tragic if Mr. Naruhodou didn't return the sentiment. We might never know." He said, shaking his head.

Phoenix just smiled at him mysteriously.

The memory of a green glow, slithering chains, and a shock of bright red filled his mind.

Somehow, Miles still thought the spiky-haired man knew something more.

--------

As the latest episode of the Steel Samurai reboot rolled to the credits, Maya Fey turned to face Miles Edgeworth.

"So, Mr. Edgeworth, what will it be? Are you gonna ask me about Nick's juiciest secrets?" she said, teasingly.

Miles sputtered, taken aback. "Ah, Ms. Fey, what makes you say that?" he said, sitting up awkwardly.

"Well, you took me out for lunch and we had a Steel Samurai marathon... Nick only does that when he's going to ask me for something. So, what will it be, Mr. Edgeworth? I wouldn't mind spilling some of Nick's secrets..." Maya snickered.

Edgeworth wondered how the two were friends once again, and sighed. He became a little more serious as he turned to look at Maya.

"Actually, Ms. Fey... I wanted to ask you if you could channel someone for me." Maya's expression turned to one of understanding.

"If you don't mind me asking, Mr. Edgeworth, is... It your father that you want me to channel?" She asked. Thinking back to the channeling that ruined Misty Fey's career, Edgeworth shook his head.

Not allowing himself to think about it too hard, "Ah, no." he opted to say, sparing Maya his emotional confusion. At the curious look on Maya's face, he carefully pulled the photo out of his coat pocket (his coat was laid out on the couch) and gave it to her. "The man in white. There is...something I wish to ask him."

Maya nodded, studying the picture a bit. "He's cool, but the one in black isn't that bad either." she said, winking jokingly. Miles cracked a small smile, huffing a suppressed laugh.

"The one I want you to channel, his name is Kazuma Asougi."

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They sat cross-legged in the middle of Edgeworth's living room, the blinds pulled close and a few candles lit around them. The smell of vanilla filled the room because apparently the only candles he had on hand were scented. Maya had snickered a good deal, saying it was such an 'Edgeworth-y thing'. He.. Didn't share the sentiment. That being said, the atmosphere in the room had changed quite a bit with Maya's whispered chanting, the picture held firmly in her left hand.

It had been a good fifteen minutes and Miles was starting to doubt it would work. He was still a little skeptical about it even after witnessing the magatama's powers for himself. Just as he was about to put a hand on Maya's shoulder and tell her that it was fine, he heard the faint sound of laminated paper falling to the ground. He looked up at Maya, about to assure her that it really was alright-

Only to find that he wasn't sitting with her anymore.

The person before him was without a doubt the man from the photos, however worn they were. They locked eyes for a while, tense. As Miles studied the man's face, his sharp eyes and curious expression, he couldn't help but notice the black strands of hair flowing in nonexistent wind. He glanced at the candles' steady flames. Strange.

"You... Are Kazuma Asougi?" He asked, quite awkwardly. Reading the journal had made hundreds of questions pop up in his mind, but standing before the man now, Miles realized he didn't quite know what to say. Now he understood why spirit channeling wasn't more popular. Really, though, what could he say? 'Hello, I found your journal in my attic and read your romantic diary entries about your friend. If you don't mind me asking, did you ever get with him?'? The man raised an amused brow.

"Indeed. Now who might you be?"

"My name is Miles Edgeworth." he swallowed, "I...wished to ask you about, ah, your life?" He felt like a child as he stared at Asougi, stumbling over his words. Asougi regarded him for a second and levelled him with a knowing smile.

"It's alright."

Miles stared at him. Asougi sighed.

"It's quite obvious you don't want to hear the story of how I tripped over a cat and lost my memories, what is it you're really curious about?" Tripped over a cat? Well, he was sort of curious now...

Deciding to spare himself some embarrasment, he silently pulled out the journal and handed it to Asougi. To his surprise, Asougi laughed heartily, hands on his hips.

"I knew that journal would bring me trouble someday.." He chuckled. "Well? Ask away."

Sensing Kazuma's good-naturedness, Miles relaxed. Still, he couldn't bring himself to ask the question in his mind outright. "Well, ah, I was wondering if we could be related?" a pause, "I found your journal in my attic, inside a large black trunk."

Kazuma was silent for a while, before smiling at him.

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The two men spent quite a long time talking to eachother, sharing stories, and being completely bewildered by just how much they had in common. Miles got to hear a lot about this 'Naruhodou', Kazuma about Phoenix, and by the time Maya had become too tired to keep channeling he had come to like the man quite a bit. Maybe he hadn't gotten the answer about his most burning question, but Kazuma's company was delightful and he found himself satisfied that the man hadn't been nearly as broken as he'd feared. Perhaps, this is proof that they reunited... In the afterlife? The hopeful part of his mind whispered. The afterlife... Well, he couldn't say he didn't believe in channeling anymore, unless Maya Fey had the uncanny ability to change her appearance and voice to that of a Japanese man in his early thirties at will.

As he prepared to depart back to the spirit world, Kazuma pulled Miles into a friendly hug with surprising strenght. "It was nice meeting you, Miles Edgeworth." he smiled serenely, but there was mischief in his gaze, "I do hope you have a good life with your dragon."

With that last puzzling remark,
Kazuma Asougi was gone, Maya Fey sleepily rubbing her eyes where he'd been. He quickly waved out the candles around them, wordlessly helping her up to the couch.

Sensing that it went well and that he wasn't in a bad mood, Maya smiled at him, and he reluctantly agreed to watch another episode(It was one of the classic episodes this time, and well, he forgot all about that 'reluctance' once the opening rolled around) before dropping her off at her apartment.

--------

Exactly a week later the friends were back in the kitchen, sitting across from eachother. They made the usual small talk before Phoenix couldn't contain his curiosity anymore.

"So... A little birdie told me you asked her to channel someone with a 'Japanese-sounding name', how did it go? Get the answer you were looking for?" Phoenix asked, looking genuinely curious.

"Well, I suppose I am...satisfied. I couldn't really bring myself to ask the most obvious questions, but overall I'm pleased to say that our chat was quite enjoyable." Miles said, watching as Phoenix leaned back, reaching inside his coat that was draped on the back of the chair. Pulling out a black journal with a reasonably thick pile of papers sticking out of it, he put it on the table, sliding it towards Miles just as he had done last week.

"What's this?" Miles reached out to gently touch it's cover. Phoenix smirked.

"Why, it's Ryuunosuke Naruhodou's journal, of course!" he said smugly. Miles' eyes widened.

"How-" he started to say,

"Oh, would you look at the time! I promised Maya I'd pick Pearls up from the train station today. Let's talk about it later, huh?" Phoenix said, hurriedly getting up from the table. Edgeworth, in the haze of confusion, mindlessly escorted Phoenix to the door, receiving a 'See you, Edgeworth!' thrown over the man's shoulder. When his confusion wore off, Edgeworth realized that he'd probably been ditched. With a horrible excuse, too. After the ice melted between them, Phoenix always asked for a ride when he needed to go to the train station and he knew Edgeworth was available.
Thankfully, Miles knew not to take it to heart and walked back to the kitchen table. Sitting back down, he took the black journal into his hands. So, this was Naruhodou's journal, huh? Opening it up revealed the papers inside to be a translated manuscript of sorts, written in Phoenix's familiar scrawl. Feeling a sense of déja vu, he began reading once more.

"February 19, 1900

I am My name is Ryuunosuke Naruhodou. I am writing this journal to document my time in the Great British Empire. Just yesterday I arrived here, and also had my first trial as a defense attorney. My client was a man named Cosney Megundal. I ended up winning in an unbelievable turnabout." 'Unbelievable turnabout', huh, Miles thought. "Against that fearsome prosecutor, too! Though I.. I fear I am not sure if the trial ended on the right conclusion or not. But, if the Chief Justice himself has assigned me this case, he must have been innocent, right? At least, that is what I tell myself. Of course, I wouldn't have been able to even do this much without Mikotoba san at my side. I feel she should have become the attorney instead of me I am very grateful to her for all she's done for me." Miles was reading the manuscript side by side with the journal page itself, and he couldn't help but notice how the ink had dispersed in some places, as if it had been spattered with water. As if... Naruhodou had been crying.

"Every moment of the trial, I couldn't help but wonder, 'What would Asougi do?'. It kept me going, but then... I c ou ldn't help but think, 'It should've been Asougi here instead of me.' I know it is not what he would've thought, but I couldn't help it. I still think I am unfit for this. Letting that happen while I was sleeping in the same room, I don't think I'm fit for anything anymore . I wonde r ... Are you watching over me? What did you see in me, Asougi? I don't see anything."

Miles took a shudderring breath. That was... Something. He flipped the page and shuffled the papers for it's translation.

"February 20, 1900

It was such an eventful day today! I had my second trial in the Great British Empire, defending a fellow Japanese exchange student named Souseki Natsume. He was quite the character, but I believed in his innocence. It was a little hard, but remembering your words helped a lot, Asougi. Although, I do fear for him... I heard something about the prosecutor, Lord Barok van Zieks. Apparently he has the 'Grim Reaper's Curse' on him that makes all the defendants he prosecutos perish. I am... quite wary of him, to be honest. He's very intimidating and I feel he especially dislikes me, for whatever reason. I can't say I have any idea why. I really hope nothing happens to Souseki, though."

Miles relaxed, noticing that this entry was more... tame. He kept reading, finding Naruhodou's bright optimism and tender sorrow more and more charming. He read about Souseki Natsume's second trial and departure from London, more about Kazuma Asougi's death(but it couldn't have been, the person channelled had clearly been older than 23), Ryuunosuke and Susato's moving in with Sherlock Holmes who appeared to really have existed, the trial of Gina Lestrade and Ryuunosuke's ban from court, daily life at 221B, and his return to defending. He read about Ryuunosuke's suspicions on Prosecutor van Zieks' new apprentice and he was on what he guessed to be the last page of Benjamin Dobinbough's trial. Glancing at the particularly messy scrawl and obvious tear stains on the page, Miles steeled himself before resuming reading.

"October 24, 1900

He's alive. Asougi is alive.

And he didn't even stay, he just left, again. Why? I couldn't be happier, but... He seemed quite troubled. Why won't he tell me?Are we not partners anymore? I hope everything is alright... And I hope I can see him again soon. I almost felt jealous that he spoke more to Susato san, but then I felt really bad about it. Susato san's my friend , I shouldn't think like that. And, a fter all, he's known her for longer, hasn't he? And now that he's back, what am I , the substitute, doing ? When we are finally able to reunite, I wish to tell him that I lo v miss him very much."

He pressed his palms against his eyes, cursing Phoenix and his attention to detail in the manuscript. As the pages went on, Miles read a flat-out confession(that historians would try to pass off as 'very close friendship', he thought jokingly to himself) and finally, finally, breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn't been one-sided, then. Yes, he still didn't know if they found eachother while alive, but the more he read the more he realized one thing: this was a measure of pure love that not even death could tear apart. He smiled, remembering the phase he had in his childhood, watching Signal Samurai and trying to learn Japanese.

'Ryuu' meant dragon. "I do hope you have a good life with your dragon." Yes, he still had his whole life ahead of him. And a Ryuuichi to spend it with.

'What time better than the present?', he thought, pulling out his phone. He had a reservation to make and a defense attorney to ask out.

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In the attic of the Wright family home, the red ribbon tied around the blue armband seemed to flutter happily in a warm breeze, regardless of the lack of wind indoors.