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He had just settled in for a quick lunch at his desk when Miles Edgeworth noticed the email in in his inbox. Its appearance was a wholly unexpected and strangely nostalgic one — a notification from the Steel Samurai kink meme.
He’d been quite active in the fandom back in the day, but that was a long time ago. Edgeworth never would have imagined that the meme would still be active after so many years, let alone that that author would be. Half-expecting a Russian spambot, he clicked only to see the ghost of a long-abandoned fanfiction revived before his very eyes. Not only that, but it had been completely finished, with chapter after chapter of dense text filling out several comments down the page. Of course, stories on the SS kink meme were abandoned all the time, and sometimes even picked up after extended hiatuses, but in this case it was particularly surprising because the very author had gone missing.
Participation in the meme was, of course, anonymous, but Edgeworth was well familiar with the work of TheOnyxSamurai, the writer in question. His distinctive style and tendency to project the same headcanons into everything he wrote tended to give him away even in anon. And of course, the story featured his favored pairing — Steel Samurai/Evil Magistrate.
Yes, in addition to his long and elaborate fanfictions, TheOnyxSamurai wrote verbose essays on the supposedly inherent homoeroticism of the show. To Miles Edgeworth, a staunch canon-is-canon Word of God supporter, Onyx had been something of a fandom nemesis.
It wasn’t to say that he bore the man ill will. Incisive and intelligent, Onyx had been the only Steel Magistrate shipper worth acknowledging. Though they weren’t exactly friends, they had been in the habit of debating on a regular basis, and when Onyx disappeared, Edgeworth had even tried to find him and make sure he was all right. In the end, however, he was unable to uncover any personal details, and he didn’t have the time to launch a serious investigation due to the mountain of controversy surrounding—
Edgeworth froze midway through his perusal of the second new chapter as the clues snapped into place within his mind. He opened the once-familiar Steel Samurai fan forums, navigating to TheOnyxSamurai’s last post. The date was October 6th, 2020 — the very day before Metis Cykes’ murder.
Could what he was thinking really be true? It was certainly plausible. Simon Blackquill was an obvious fan of all things bushido, the time frame was too neat to deny, and with the exception of his prison uniform, Edgeworth had never seen him in any color other than black…
Another thing occurred to Edgeworth then. Based on the time of the story’s most recent update, Blackquill would have been writing at work. Naturally, he should be punished, but at this point Edgeworth had no proof of his misdeeds. Blackquill couldn’t have posted from his work computer, as the office’s firewall blocked social media sites. But if Edgeworth could somehow prove that he was posting on some sort of portable device…
He picked up the phone and dialed an internal number.
"Blackquill. Have you eaten lunch?"
——————————————
Edgeworth chose the restaurant, and almost immediately ended up regretting it as he watched the wait staff’s discomfort at the presence of the Twisted Samurai. Blackquill himself wasn’t helping anything, meeting awkward stares with cold glares or wicked smirks. Edgeworth had been aware that the man had been having some difficulty readjusting to life outside of prison, but such poor behavior would not help anything. When Blackquill flashed his steak knife at the waiter, grinning like a demon, Edgeworth had no choice but to step in.
"You cannot possibly think that is appropriate."
"It’ll keep them from spitting in our food," Blackquill replied coolly.
"This is not the sort of establishment where people spit in the food," Edgeworth scoffed.
"How much do you tip them?"
"Well, depending on the service—"
"They spit in your food."
Edgeworth frowned, filing that information away for later investigation. “…At any rate. I thought I should see how you’ve been faring since your release.”
"Is that why we’re here?" Though he spoke in a much less confrontational tone than he would have used with most, this was typical Twisted Samurai behavior; Blackquill was endeavoring to set the pace of the conversation.
(If he’s already on the offensive, there’s all the more reason to believe he has something to hide), Edgeworth thought. In order to outwit the Twisted Samurai, he would have to be cautious. He could not reveal his strategy too quickly, nor pose any conjectures for which he did not have solid evidence. “You seem surprised.” The battle of wits had begun.
"Indeed I am. I would not have expected the Chief Prosecutor to still have time for a social call. I am honored."
He seemed sincere enough, but his ulterior motive was plain; he wished not only to set the pace of the conversation, but the tone as well. Edgeworth hadn’t declared the nature of the meeting to be professional in nature, assuming that much should have been obvious, but Blackquill had swiftly moved to prevent him from doing so. As the boss, of course, Edgeworth could have overturned this move, but it didn’t seem right to declare a working lunch when there was no true work to be done. He opted to play the middle ground.
"I must confess, the occasion is not entirely social. You are in a unique and undoubtedly difficult situation, returning to the prosecutor’s office in such a way, and I thought that I should offer you my support as Chief Prosecutor." This was not a lie; he truly had wished to express that sentiment, particularly after seeing that Blackquill was still having trouble with the public. "I do not say so because of anything you have done, nor any specific concerns with your work, but rather because I know you have a history of silently taking burdens onto your own shoulders."
"Ah…" Blackquill glanced away, suddenly looking almost bashful. "I am in your debt, truly. But at the moment, I feel only relief from having such burdens lifted. If that changes… then I shall consult with you."
Edgeworth nodded. “Good.”
"Is that all you wished to discuss with me?"
"Is there anything else I should be discussing with you?"
"Isn’t there? I am not so naive as to think that you invited me here to chat about the Steel Samurai."
It was a subtle jab, but one Edgeworth caught immediately; seven years ago, a rookie Blackquill wanted nothing more than just that. Even from their first meeting, he saw the figurine in Edgeworth’s office and had grown very excited, attempting to strike up a friendship. But Edgeworth was busy then, dealing with multiple intertwined murders and a nasty international incident with Zheng Fa, and in the end he’d been more aloof than intended. Before he knew it, Blackquill had backed off on all but the most professional matters.
He hadn’t thought much of it then. He hadn’t meant to reject Blackquill’s friendship, but he couldn’t change the person he was. At the time, he’d had no doubt a bright and kind-hearted young man like Blackquill would find someone more… adept at the art of socialization. In retrospect, he wished he’d done more. If Blackquill had trusted him back then, things might have turned out differently.
"I’ve said my piece. If it is truly the Steel Samurai that you wish to talk about…"
Blackquill picked up the thread almost immediately. “I would not be adverse. Last weekend, I ended up rewatching the original series with the Wright Anything Agency. As such, I have been awash with nostalgia. The Steel Samurai was something of a hero to me, in my younger days.”
He admitted it so easily; so freely. Edgeworth wondered what that was like. “The Steel Samurai has served as a hero to many,” he offered, cautiously.
"In truth, when I first began my career in prosecution, I thought myself the Steel Samurai of the courtroom. I felt as though, in my own way, I was fighting to protect others."
"I remember your passion," said Edgeworth. "But I cannot help but note that you speak of it in the past tense."
"The Steel Samurai is an honest and straightforward hero. He would never stoop to the sort of underhanded tactics that I’ve adopted these years of late." He twirled his knife between his fingers. "Besides, an ordinary vassal such as myself could never claim such a lofty position. I remain a mere liegeman to the true protector of Neo Olde Los Angeles"
(Is he saying I’m the Steel Samurai?) The thought left Edgeworth oddly flustered. He chose to press the piece of Blackquill’s testimony that made him the least uncomfortable. “‘Ordinary’ is not the first word that comes to mind when I think of you… nor ‘underhanded,’ at that rate.” He sipped his tea, regaining his calm. “And from the start, I was never convinced that you were capable of murder.”
"You weren’t the only one. From the moment I stepped into that prison, the snakes around me saw weakness. Naturally, even with as short as my career had been, I’d put more of a few of the blackguards in there myself. Only now, I was no longer in my world, and I no longer had the law on my side. If I wanted to survive, I would need to find a new way to fight."
Blackquill spoke with a smirk, his voice snide and flippant, as it often was with things that caused him pain. Edgeworth decided it best to let him keep talking.
"And I decided then, that if I must be a villain, only a magnificent villain would do. I abandoned all delusions of being the Steel Samurai, and began to think of myself as the Evil Magistrate."
Edgeworth hesitated. Blackquill was spilling his secrets, to be sure, but not in the way that he had hoped. Once again, the man was trying to open up to him, and just like all those years ago, Edgeworth thought there must have been someone better to hear him out. But he would not make the same mistake again; if for whatever reason Blackquill felt comfortable speaking to him, then he would do his best to listen.
"You are not a villain, Blackquill. Whatever pretenses you may put on, you never were."
"Thank you, Edgeworth-sama. Your confidence means a great deal to me." He bowed, then smiled and asked, "So what did you think of my fanfiction, ScarletSolitude?”
Edgeworth choked on his tea. Of course Blackquill had known. He must have known from the beginning. "I think that you should not be writing it at work.”
"Isn’t it obvious?" Blackquill chuckled. "I wanted to see if you would notice."
"If… I would notice?”
"I always knew you were more of a fan than you claimed. But I was too cowardly to ask all those years ago, and as I rotted away in my cell, with nothing to do but baste in my own thoughts, there were things that became clear to me. So I began to think: if you had my thread pinned, surely a clever man such as yourself would also make the connection. And once you did, naturally you would think, ‘Ah, Blackquill is writing fanfiction at work and shall have to be punished.’ Such was my wicked scheme."
The logical blow struck Edgeworth hard. From the very start, this had never been a game of wits. It had been a trap, and one that he had fallen into headfirst.
"There’s no need to look so mortified," Blackquill went on. "You’ve been significantly busier than I have these recent years, and I am honored, truly, that you kept it pinned all that time. But I must insist — what did you think of it?"
Edgeworth sighed. “I think it should be obvious that I had no chance to read the entire thing. I called you the moment I put the clues together.”
"Then you did read some of it."
"…A bit."
"And?"
The sigh turned into an inward groan. Honestly, what was it with needy authors demanding reviews of their work? “Your prose is exemplary, as always, and your talent for character voice has grown. I think you have a logical basis for the Evil Magistrate redemption arc that you appear to be setting up in the following chapters. However, I am still in disagreement with many of your characterization choices.”
Blackquill snickered. “I expected as much, and am prepared to defend them with canonical evidence.”
"If all you wanted was a debate, you could have sent me an email…" Just how much time had he spent thinking about this in prison, anyway?
"I wished to see the look on your face as I tore your fandom views to shreds. Do you still deny the homoerotic undertones?"
"Naturally. You are reasoning backwards from the conclusion that you want rather than analyzing the evidence at face value. That’s no way to go about finding the truth."
"Literature bears many truths. Do you not understand the concept of ‘death of the author’? I should think a man who has met Sal Manella would."
"This has nothing to do with that—"
"And everything to do with your inability to recognize subtext—"
"You take it far beyond subtext. If you are simply going to project your own desires onto it, then perhaps you should write something original—"
"Funny you should use that word. I haven’t seen one shred of desire in your fanfiction—”
"Blackquill, we are in public—” People were starting to stare. He needed to shut this discussion down, and fast.
"My apologies. This is neither the proper place nor time for such a discussion."
Edgeworth had expected it to be more difficult, but Blackquill relented quickly, and he nodded with relief. “Precisely.”
"Then, after work."
"Would be the obvious time for such a thing, yes."
"Over dinner, perhaps."
Edgeworth frowned. “Are you attempting to engage me in a game of Simon Says?”
"I am merely inviting you to continue our debate in a more appropriate venue. What say you?"
Edgeworth’s frown deepened. Blackquill likely had more tricks up his sleeve, but he would not lose so easily. Canon was, after all, on his side. “Very well.”
"Then we shall discuss the details later."
Edgeworth summoned the waiter with their bills, and they began gathering up their things to leave.
"You asked me how I was readjusting to life on the outside," Blackquill said suddenly. "And I answered with a half-truth. In all honesty, there are scars that I will carry to my grave. However, that’s not to say that I am doing poorly. Freedom has been a breath of fresh air, and with each passing day I find myself feeling a bit more alive; a bit more whole. There was so much unfinished business that I left behind when I was locked away, things I thought I would never have the chance to do… and now, little by little, I can start picking up all those loose threads. You cannot imagine how empowering that feels."
"Unfinished business… such as finishing your Steel Samurai fanfiction and winning an internet debate?"
Blackquill simply laughed. “You truly are abysmal at reading the subtext.”