Chapter Text
The atmosphere in the Prosecutor’s Office was palpable and suffocating.
Friday afternoons usually panned out like this. Everyone was tired after a long week of court cases, anxious for the weekend to finally roll around. It was no wonder the prosecutors were getting on each other’s nerves so easily.
Nahyuta Sahdmadhi’s mouth curled into a scowl during his midday meditation. Simon Blackquill allowed Taka to screech incessantly, refusing to quiet the falcon down. Franziska von Karma was screaming at an unpaid intern just outside the lunchroom. Winston Payne was chewing food with his mouth open.
Someone must have wished for someone to put an end to their misery because that wish was granted in a timely fashion.
“Guten Tag, Fraus and Gentleherrs!” Klavier burst into the lunchroom, practically beaming with that huge trademark smile of his. A large tray sat on his left hand, threatening to topple over if Klavier didn’t keep his balance. “I hope you’re all having a wunderschönes Friday!”
Simon Blackquill swallowed a piece of salad. Taka screeched softly. “Gavin-dono. You’re late.”
Klavier’s smile fell a bit, and he had the decency to look a little sheepish. “Ach, I know… my apologies, Herr Blackquill. I got tied up and lost track of time.”
“What is that you’ve got there?” Simon asked from his table, pointing his fork in Klavier’s direction. An arrangement of small cups lined the top of Klavier’s tray, surrounding a steel kettle in the centre.
“Tea!” Klavier chirped. Simon perked up a bit at the mention of his favourite drink. “I figured you all must be tired after such a long week… so I made tea for everybody. Oolong flavour from the Republic of Zheng-Fa!”
The mention of free drinks drew the attention of the other prosecutors in the lunchroom. Nahyuta, who’d been quietly meditating in the corner, opened his eyes, and Winston ceased his incessant chewing to stare down uncomfortably.
“No offence,” Winston said cautiously, almost apologetically, poking his meal with a fork, “but I’d rather not drink anything a Gavin gives me. It’s nothing personal, I promise…”
Klavier smiled sadly, clearly hurt by the harsh words but unwilling to show it. Winston was right, after all—Klavier himself didn’t dare to touch any food from Kristoph’s old home. The detectives discarded every can and bottle recovered from his brother’s cupboards, for safety’s sake.
As if in response to Winston’s remark, Simon sat up rather quickly, startling Winston from afar. He meandered over to where Klavier placed the tray and took a sip from a cup, thanking Klavier for his thoughtfulness. “Sharp, but with a pleasant aftertaste. Not bad, Gavin-dono.” Taka chirped in apparent agreement.
Nahyuta apparently had the same idea. He wandered over, plucked a cup from the centre of the tray, and smiled delicately at Klavier. “You are very gracious, Prosecutor Gavin,” Nahyuta hummed between dainty sips. “Your coworkers could learn a lot from your decency.”
Winston grumbled something unintelligible and hunched over his unfinished food. Klavier kind of felt bad for him being singled out, but he appreciated Simon and Nahyuta coming to his defence.
At one point, between heated arguments about contentious new bills and episodes of their favourite TV shows, Franziska suddenly stormed into the lunchroom, muttering something angrily under her breath. Even in her haste, and despite her sour mood, she swiped a glass off the tray as she stomped past Klavier’s table, ignoring the three men sitting there. She took the cup along to seek her next hapless whipping victim. Hopefully, she’d remember to return it later.
Most of the tea was gone by the time the hour struck. Klavier, Simon, and Nahyuta all had their fill and gradually shuffled back to their respective offices. The Chief Prosecutor was gone for an important meeting, so Simon was in placed charge for the time being. Not that Klavier needed any supervision or anything.
As the minutes ticked by, Klavier sat alone in his office. A trial recording played quietly on his computer screen while he plucked a simple melody on his guitar. He flip-flopped between his work and his music every few minutes or so, anytime his head was getting fuzzy. But the sound of brisk footsteps jerked him from his thoughts, and he looked out towards the hallway in time to see Franziska walking by.
“Frau von Karma,” Klavier greeted as Franziska passed by his office door. The woman huffed and stopped in the entryway, leaning against the doorframe. “I hear your career with Interpol is flourishing. That’s good to hear.”
“There are many fools in this world, Klavier Gavin.” Franziska shook her head firmly. “But I am an asset to Interpol’s team. They’re lucky to have a prosecutor such as me.”
Klavier nodded along. If anyone else had boasted like that, Klavier would have thought them to be vain. But in the case of Franziska, a famed prosecutor with a breathtaking record, the self-appointed praise was well-earned. “I’m sure they are. Care to come in for a chat?”
Franziska quirked an eyebrow. “I’m very busy. I need to speak to someone about their trial earlier today.”
“Ach, fair enough.” Klavier shrugged and began plucking at his guitar once more. This, however, seemed to agitate Franziska; she strode into the office and snatched the guitar away from him. “…I thought you were busy.”
“You should be busy too,” Franziska sneered. “Not toying around with your little guitar.”
“Inspiration is a fickle mistress, Frau von Karma. If I don’t please her now, I may never find her again.”
Franziska blinked, trying to understand what Klavier just said, but gave up and shook her head. “At least close the door. I’ve gotten complaints from Payne about your volume.”
Klavier simply nodded. Franziska chose that moment to take her leave, slamming the door shut behind her. She left the guitar propped against his desk.
An hour passed. Klavier alternated between whistling a new tune and scrubbing through the video on his computer screen. It was getting harder and harder to focus on work, but his muse had long since left him struggling for new lyrics. Seemed like writing music was out of the question too.
Klavier sighed dejectedly, slumping back in his chair. His head was pounding now, strained from staring at the monitor for so long. There was no way he’d be able to get his work done like this. He quickly stood up—a brisk walk down the hall would certainly clear his aching head.
But as he approached the door, his hand trembling on the doorknob, Klavier felt his entire body jolt violently. His arms, legs, and torso shot up quite suddenly, the pain eliciting a startled gasp.
Then, before he could think to wonder what the hell was happening, Klavier fell to the ground in a crumpled heap.
“Scheiße,” Klavier hissed. His whole body was wracked with unnatural pain. Something was wrong, that much was certain, but he had no idea what the matter could be. He hadn’t felt particularly ill that day. So why was he so out of sorts?
Klavier grunted and rose to a stand. But what he saw caused him to immediately stumble backwards in horror, falling to the ground again.
The beautifully-carved office door stretched ever upwards, far exceeding its usual height. The doorknob, which used to sit near Klavier’s hip, was now dozens of feet in the air, far out of his reach.
And it wasn’t just the door. Klavier’s head whirled around, his mouth agape at the sight of his horrifically oversized office. His desk was so tall that he couldn’t see what was on it. One of his acoustic guitars, propped against a plush chair, could easily crush him if it fell over.
Klavier Gavin, previously six feet tall, was now smaller than his trademarked Gavinner’s mug.
No, Klavier thought, shaking his head. This is either a dream or a very well-orchestrated prank.
But still, even believing the situation to be fake, Klavier felt his breath leaving his lungs in leaps and bounds. The world around him was so large, so overwhelming, that Klavier couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped him. Just the idea of being so fragile and vulnerable made him queasy—let alone experiencing it with his own senses.
He patted his cheeks a few times, trying to ease himself awake from whatever nightmare this was. People don’t just shrink. That’s impossible. This couldn’t be happening.
He needed… Klavier needed help.
His focus whipped back towards the door, which was still too large for him to operate—but the crack beneath the door was just barely wide enough to wriggle under if he really tried. Mustering himself to move instead of sitting in shock, Klavier crawled towards the crack, slipping his head and shoulders underneath. It was a tight fit, and Klavier had to exert himself quite a bit, but he finally popped out on the other side.
The hallway, to Klavier’s dismay, was also incredibly oversized. He felt like he was in an ancient palace instead of his own workplace, given how high the ceilings rose and the walls stretched. But this was no time to get distracted. Klavier needed to locate someone who could help him figure out what was wrong, and hopefully get him back to normal.
The easiest place to start was the office next door.
With careful, hesitant steps, Klavier began the arduous track down the hallway. Even though the next office over was only a few meters away, it took Klavier a full minute to make it there. This particular office belonged to Sebastian Debeste, a prosecutor and tentative friend. Surely he could help Klavier figure out what happened to make him so small.
Klavier repeated the same process with Sebastian’s door, squirming between the floor and door to force himself into the room. Sebastian’s office was much cleaner than his own; the tops of a few desk toys and a single lava lamp were visible from Klavier’s vantage point, but the room was otherwise pristine.
And Sebastian Debeste sat at his desk, staring at Klavier with an awestruck expression.
Klavier forced himself to smile and wave, even when Sebastian shot up from his chair and rushed over to where Klavier stood. The heavy footsteps shook the floor beneath them, threatening to throw Klavier off-balance, but he remained standing as best he could. “H–Herr Debeste,” he managed to say without squeaking too much. “I don’t suppose… you can… spare a moment?”
Sebastian said nothing at first. Instead, faster than Klavier could even process it, Sebastian’s huge hand shot out and snagged Klavier. The massive fingers pinned his arms to his sides.
Then Sebastian moved to stand up, and the floor was suddenly very, very far away. Klavier fought the urge to struggle, knowing that escape would only lead to a long, painful drop. Besides, despite Sebastian being young and lanky, his grip was strong enough to keep Klavier from moving at all.
“Klavier,” Sebastian breathed, eyes practically bugging out of his skull. “What happened to you? Why are you…?”
Klavier swallowed hard, forcing himself to breathe. “I–I don’t know,” he admitted. “My head was hurting, and then I felt weak… and now I’m… shorter than usual, so to speak.” He smiled again, although it was more of a pained grimace than a genuine grin. “I–I’m afraid I need some assistance.”
Sebastian’s face was completely unreadable for a minute as he stared down at Klavier, still trapped in a loose fist. Klavier shifted uncomfortably. The gaze of two massive eyeballs threatened to petrify him.
In the blink of an eye, Klavier was suddenly sitting in an open palm, freed from the balled fist. A white, silky blanket was draped over his shoulders. No, not a blanket—a handkerchief. It was embroidered with Sebastian’s initials, and thankfully, it was very clean.
Klavier pulled the edges of the handkerchief over his shoulder, feeling rather puzzled. “Ach, th–thank you, Herr Debeste… but I’m not… very cold.”
“Yes, you are!” Sebastian declared as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m well-versed in the sciences. Matter expands when exposed to heat, and it contracts when that heat is lost. We just need to get you warmed up!”
“I, uh…” Klavier trailed off, feeling even more puzzled after getting an explanation. He was no scientist himself, but even he figured that cozying up with a blanket wouldn’t solve the issue.
Then again, shrinking shouldn’t be possible in the first place, right? Maybe Sebastian was onto something.
But as minutes passed, with Sebastian staring down at Klavier with bright, excited eyes, there was no change in Klavier’s diminished size. All Klavier got for his troubles was a sweaty shirt and a couple new phobias.
“It seems that my brilliant solution fell flat,” Sebastian sighed, plucking the handkerchief away from Klavier and shoving it into his front pocket. “But worry not! We will find a solution!” Sebastian lifted his hand up towards his face; Klavier was now sitting squarely in front of his nose. “Tell me… Where is Mr. Edgeworth right now?”
Klavier gulped. “A m–meeting. H–Herr Blackquill is in charge for now.” He hated how his words were so strangled, but the vertigo was making him delirious and lightheaded. It took all his energy just to keep himself from going limp and passing out.
Sebastian seemed to notice Klavier’s panic-stricken face. “Don’t worry, Klavier!” he chirped, although the strain in his voice was obvious. “I’m going to talk with Simon. He might know how to help.” He ruffled Klavier’s head with his thumb, messing up his pristine golden locks. “So relax—you’re in good hands. Because the hands are mine! That’s why they’re good.”
Klavier nodded and slumped over in the palm.