Chapter Text
Finally.
A quiet, warm, pleasant day.
Miles couldn’t suppress a contented smile as the rays of the sun caressed the back of his neck while he worked. The fresh early-spring and the long-awaited warm weather had him feeling good, and what was even better than that was the delightful lack of disturbances he’d had all day long. Good moods are productive moods: without anything to bother him, Miles got a smashing amount of work done, ploughing through veritable stacks of bureaucratic redundancy. Sometimes, said bureaucratic redundancy made the Chief Prosecutor feel quite a lot less important than he really was, but today he felt good, and the work just melted away.
…
But, of course, things were a little too quiet. Miles Edgeworth is never left undisturbed for long.
Knock knock knock
Before he even had the chance to say “come in”, the person on the other side of the door did just that.
Miles failed to recognise the man as he approached his desk. He wore a dark greyish-blue suit and a purple tie rather subdued in hue. He had a long moustache crooked in the middle, as well as a little tuft of hair on his chin. He carried himself up to Miles’ desk with vigour, with an air of ‘you’re just the man I want to see!’. “Hello there!” The man greeted, with a wide, sweeping wave. His voice gave Miles the impression of some radio host from the 1930s. “You wouldn’t happen to be Mr. Miles Edgeworth, would you, hmm?”
“I am,” the Chief Prosecutor answered. “What brings you to my office?”
“Ah, right to business! I like a man who cuts right to the chase!” The moustached fellow came round the desk and was quickly leaning up against Miles all chummy-like. Miles was starting to feel rather uncomfortable. “Now, I hear you’re a big fan of the Steel Samurai: Warrior of Neo Olde Tokyo , eh?”
…
“…Where on Earth did you hear something like that?” Miles enquired, as suspicious as he was unsure about this strange character, and how/why he was digging into Miles’… hobbies .
“From Will Powers himself! He’s the one who recommended I speak to you in the first place!”
Miles just blinked. “…About what, exactly?”
“Oh yes, that’s the good part,” the man began, lowering his voice as he stooped over to get much too close to Miles’ face. “How would you like to play the Steel Samurai himself in a live show I’m producing?”
…
There were a great many feelings that fought for Miles’ attention in his gut at that moment.
On the one hand, being able to put on that hallowed costume and become that great and noble warrior for an all-too-brief time was nothing short of a dream come true; no matter how much time had passed, the fantasy of doing just that had lived just as vividly in Miles’ mind as it had when he first pondered the idea, back when his prosecutor’s badge lay fresh and untarnished in his pocket.
But on the other hand…
“I refuse,” Miles decided, crossing his arms and steeling his gaze.
“Now what would you do that for?” The man clutched his chest, melodramatically hurt by the statement.
“For one thing, you haven’t even introduced yourself or your company. You just barged into my office for non-legal interests during my work hours to propose a show business role to me in the most bizarre and unprofessional way you possibly could have. You aren’t exactly winning points for trustworthiness, here.”
“Aight, fair enough,” the man admitted, putting up his hands and closing his eyes with a slight nod of the head in acknowledgement. Then, he grinned, extending his hand. “Name’s Edwin Magne-Sterne, and I’m the founder and CEO of the Magne-Sterne Production Company for the Stage.”
“…Okay.”
“And, as a show of good faith…” Magne-Sterne rummaged the inside of his jacket for a moment, then pulled out a thick stack of paper, slapping it onto Miles’ desk. “This is a first-edition copy of the script! Subject to change as production continues, of course, but if you don’t want the role, you can keep it! S’long as you don’t sell it to the press, at least until the show has premiered,” he added, winking.
Miles looked down at the object before him, picking it up to flip through the pages. Indeed, he was holding a real, genuine, bona fide copy of the script in its first-edition form. If this show did well, this would go for a fortune on ssneotokyo.com in one of their monthly auctions. Miles would never have to work another day in his life, if so inclined.
Despite appearances, it seemed Magne-Sterne was serious.
Miles looked up at the man. “Why me? Why not hire Powers himself?”
Magne-Sterne was quick with an answer: “guy’s pulled out of that scene now. He feels too old for high-energy action shows. Now, he’s the costumed main character of some little kids’ show, something he doesn’t have to run around and fight in quite as much, heh.”
“But did you ask him to be in your production?”
“Oh, I did, and that’s how I found out about all that. Buuuuut…” He paused a little longer than was necessary. “After he declined my offer, he recommended you! ”
Miles’ face caught fire.
He blinked rapidly, readjusting his glasses several times in succession. “W-w-w- me?! You mean you’re actually serious about Powers’ recommendation?!”
“Yes, you!” Magne-Sterne proclaimed, aglow with pride. “He told me that you told him yourself that you’re a big fan of the show, and that statue over there tells me the rest of the story!”
Miles didn’t even have to look to know what the man was talking about. Sigh. He really wasn’t as closeted about his pastime as he thought he was, was he?
“But anyway,” Magne-Sterne carried on, “he says you’re smart, you’re of good build, and you’re young! And that’s what we need in this business! Your passion will be your greatest asset!”
“…Mr. Magne-Sterne, I’m older than Powers by almost two years,” Miles pointed out, monotone.
“Eh, semantics! You don’t look as old, that’s for sure! Not that that’ll matter when you’re wearing a mask, but that’s not the point!” He withdrew another, smaller stack of paper from inside his jacket and practically threw it onto Miles’ desk. “This is the contract right here, you can sign it now or you can sign it later!” He gave a rather odd smile. “Just let me know when you do.”
With that, he began to turn to walk away.
“I’m- I’m not doing this,” Miles protested.
“Let me know how you feel after you’ve read the thing!”
Then he went, casually strolling down the length of the office towards the door.
Miles looked down at the two documents in front of him.
His greatest, if not most embarrassing, dream could come true at merely the swish of his wrist, right there, right then.
…
…
…
…
“…Wait!”
Magne-Sterne had already stopped by the time Miles shouted.
“…We will speak in depth about the details of the contract terms, but…” Miles paused, taking a moment to fully accept the terrifying implications of what he was about to say. “…I’ll do it.”
Magne-Sterne’s grin was evil . He walked back to Miles’ desk with a scheming spring in his step. Before he’d even closed the distance, he extended his hand.
“Welcome aboard, Mr. Edgeworth.”
Miles merely stared at the man’s open hand for a moment, seeing the knee-shaking opportunity it presented.
He shook it.
Immediately, a tidal wave of emotions crashed over him.
Miles’ heart thrilled and quailed at the thought of whatever was going to happen next.
The time had come.
He was going to do it.
At least, the determination in his gait would lead one to believe so, but Phoenix was anything but certain of himself at that moment. The lobby, the receptionist, the elevator walls, none of them answered the questions pinging around the inside of his head. All he could do was push onwards.
A little digital bell dinged and he stepped onto the twelfth floor.
Yep. Sure. He was totally about to do this. It wasn’t like it was the better part of thirty years in the making or anything.
There was the door.
1202.
He didn’t get all the way there before a strangely-dressed guy came walking out. He flashed Phoenix a bit of an odd smile on his way by, then carried on towards the elevator bank.
All right. Weird.
Anyway.
Phoenix cycled a deep, heavy breath through his lungs. He could do this.
It took a moment for his fist to reach the door. His muscles were a little hesitant.
Knock knock knock
“What is it now? ”
Not quite the answer Phoenix was expecting.
Oh, he was probably assuming it was that guy in the funny suit coming back into the office. Better make his presence known.
“I-it’s just m-me.” Wow. Hadn’t even said the thing yet and he was already stuttering like a lunatic.
“Wright? Oh, I apologise; I thought you were someone else.”
“Yeah, I figured.” Okay. So far, so good.
He entered the room.
“Well, regardless, what brings you here? It’s not often I find you in my office,” Edgeworth asked.
“O-oh yeah, w-why I’m here…”
…
“…Wright?”
Phoenix blinked several times, snapping out of his reverie. “Oh! Uh, s-sorry about that,” he apologised.
He just could not think of a way to say this.
“Uh… um… w-well, uh… do- I was… w-well, um…”
“Wright, are you okay?”
He jumped a little. “F-fine!”
In the same breath, as if on the same momentum, Phoenix spat out the rest of his sentence:
“Iwasthinkingwecouldmaybehavelunchtogethersometime!”
Edgeworth blinked. “I… beg your pardon?”
Nonononononono shit . “I-I MEAN-” He threw his hands forwards. “I mean, y-y’know, since things are not super busy on my end and we both aren’t in mortal danger for once and y-you don’t really seem that busy either, a-at least compared to normal, a-and and and uh y’know I…” He swallowed hard. “I… I miss you, y’know?”
Edgeworth stared onwards, completely dumbfounded for a few seconds. “ Oh .” His expression relaxed, questions in his mind seeming to have been answered. “You’d like to sit down and have lunch sometime? I wouldn’t be opposed.” He took a sip of his tea. “I think both of us have become used to being constantly pained either professionally or personally in some way, so much so that we’re always occupied with something. I could look forward to some mild conversation.” He gave a miniscule huff, the barest hint of a laugh. “To think I would even find such a thing agreeable. I must be getting old.”
Phoenix’s return chuckle was half humour, half nerves. “Y-yeah… I- I mean, no! You’re not old, haha…” He scratched the back of his head. “But yeah, I’d love to just, y’know, sit down and catch up a little sometime. Are there any places in particular we could go to that would interest you?”
The Chief Prosecutor pondered behind a light hum for a moment. “Not that I can think of off the top of my head. I will let you decide on the venue, and I take my lunch at noon every day. Does that work?”
“Yeah, sure!” Phoenix felt a little better now that the ball seemed to be rolling. “Does Wednesday sound good? I’ll meet you here?”
“Certainly. But come to think of it, I have one question.”
Uh oh.
“Why did you come all the way here to ask me this? It’s quite a long way from your apartment and your office. Why didn’t you just telephone me?”
“ Uhhhhhhhh …”
Phoenix swallowed hard, looking around everywhere but at the man right in front of him.
“…I…just happened to be in the neighbourhood…?”
Yep. It was definitely that.
Toooooootally not because, in Phoenix’s mind, this was bound to be some life-changing event.
However, judging by Edgeworth’s all-pervasive nonchalance, it didn’t seem that the sentiment was shared. “You are a very strange man, Phoenix Wright. Your saving grace is that it makes you interesting, sometimes.”
“Ouch.”
“I stand by that.”
“Yeah, fair enough.”
…
…
“Well,” said Phoenix, desperate for anything other than silence between them. “I guess I’ll leave you to your hokey-pokey Chief Prosecutor stuff.”
Phoenix was expecting Edgeworth to give one of his trademark scoffs followed by an indignant reply, but instead, he silently looked down at the paperwork on his desk. He muttered something under his breath, and Phoenix managed to catch “… feels like it .” Then, he made eye contact again, shaking off the brief funk that had come over him. “I suppose I will see you on Wednesday, then.”
Phoenix, unable to think of anything to say, flapped his mouth open and closed a couple times uselessly, giving the most unnecessary and awkward parting hand-wave in the world.
He closed the door behind him.
And sighed .
That was a disaster .
On the one hand, he’d managed to get Edgeworth to go out with him. That was a start, and hey: maybe once they got talking, Phoenix could make a little ‘progress,’ so to speak.
But on the other hand, at no point did Edgeworth pick up on the fact that Phoenix was, in fact, asking him out .
To be fair, Phoenix didn’t exactly do a very good job at it, and he was already cringing internally at the way he’d handled that whole mess. But still. Edgeworth seemed to think that all they were going to do was have a good old catch-up chat between old friends, and it seemed like that’s what it was going to turn out to be, when Phoenix had hoped that it would be more than that. It hadn’t even happened yet, but still. Is this what the kids call being ‘friendzoned’?
Well, it would be nothing if not appropriate, really. Phoenix had been ‘friendzoned’ (for how much that term is worth) for the better part of the last three decades, and sometimes it really felt like it should stay that way. He always remembered his old man’s advice: if someone’s into you, you’ll know, and you’ll work it out. Well, that’s what he’d thought when he’d started dating Dahlia all those years ago, and look how that turned out. Phoenix did not attract strictly normal individuals. Not that Edgeworth could correctly be described as “strictly normal,” but still.
Phoenix huffed in dismay as he stepped into the elevator. Maybe they really were bound to be friends (and, ostensibly, rivals) for the rest of their lives. Could Phoenix live with that?
…Yeah, he could. Some part of it would always suck, and in a way, some part of it would always hurt, too. With every time they crossed paths, every time they spoke, and especially every time they worked together, Phoenix always silently wished that theirs could be something a little more than just friendship. He felt a little like Tantalus in the Underworld: the thing he wanted was always right in front of him, but always out of reach. So close, and yet, so far.
The elevator dinged once more and he stepped out, bracing his legs for the walk back to the office, or home, whichever he felt like heading to by the time he got to that end of town.
Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth were probably destined to be nothing more than friends, if not best friends, for the rest of their lives. Phoenix could go on like that, if not quietly a little forlorn.
He would just have to do what he’d become so good at, what he’d been doing for the last twenty years: shove it all away and sweep his true feelings under the carpet.
“ Tada! ”
Miles couldn’t be exactly sure why Magne-Sterne was presenting his office like it was some kind of grand reveal; there wasn’t exactly a whole lot to see. A few mildly interesting Steel-Samurai-related decorations here and there, but otherwise nothing of note.
The only thing that was of note was the man sitting in a chair on the far side of the lobby, looking, as he always seemed to look, slightly uncomfortable.
“Mr. Powers!” Shouted Magne-Sterne as if giving a call across a canyon rather than an office.
The venerable actor was rather startled by the sudden demand for attention, but he smiled when he took in the sight of the two men entering the room. “Oh, hello there!” He said, standing up. “It’s nice to see you, Mr. Edgeworth! It’s been a little while!” He added with a little chuckle.
“The honour is all mine, Mr. Powers,” replied Miles as he put out his hand. Powers’ handshake was grateful but with the same nervousness that always seemed to rack him. “I greatly look forward to personally working with you.”
“Yeah, me too! It’s great to know that the Steel Samurai name is in good hands!”
Ah, there was the expression much more suited to the man: beaming ear-to-ear with his fists resting on his hips. It was gladdening to know that he approved of Miles’ place in this production so thoroughly. It took all of Miles’ strength to hold back from shaking all over. He mentally chastised himself for being such a pathetic fanboy, but he just couldn’t help himself. He would be working with Will Powers , the man who gave birth to the Steel Samurai’s strong gait and booming voice, so that he himself would become, in some small way, his successor. The responsibility, the pressure , of upholding such a towering legacy was immense .
But Miles had probably never been happier in his entire life.
Magne-Sterne chuckled amusedly. “Someone is definitely ready and raring to go.” He dropped a couple of heavy pats on Miles’ shoulder. “I’ll leave you two to get to work in the ol’ acting department. You’ve both got my card, call me if you need me!”
With a wave, he moseyed off into the depths of the office.
Miles and Powers made eye contact.
“So,” Miles began, sitting down in one of the chairs. “How is this going to work?”
“Well, before we start hammering out the acting, first we’ve got to get you into a physical exercise regimen!”
Oh.
Well, that made sense: the Steel Samurai was anything but lethargic in his role in the protection of Neo Olde Tokyo.
But man . Miles hadn’t properly exercised since he was in high school .
“I understand,” he said as Powers sat opposite him. “Can we start by planning that out? I’m afraid I’ll only be available in the evenings, as I work during the day.”
“That’s okay! Whatever works for you!” Powers assured, clearly trying very hard not to step on Miles’ toes. What a bewilderingly timid fellow. “But before we actually begin working out your fitness program, first we’ve gotta take some measurements!”
“As in, for the costume?”
“W-well, not exactly.” He scratched the back of his head. “I mean like calorimetry, BMI measurements, that kind of thing. I know some folks at the school of kinesiology at Ivy U, and Mr. Sterne gave me some money to help train you, so we’re gonna get your fitness level properly measured.”
“And what would be the purpose of that?”
“It would help us make a more tailor-made exercise regimen for you, so we can use the time we’ve got most effectively.”
Hmm, that raised a good question. “Do you know how long it will be until the show is premiered? Has such a date been set yet?”
“I dunno,” Powers admitted. “But it’s not going to be long from now, we might only have a few months.”
“Really? I seem to recall the show produced for the performance at the now-Cohdopian embassy took at least a year, which makes sense to me, given both its novelty and unusual venue.”
“Yeah, I hear you, but Sterne is trying to fastrack this production as much as he can, so we’ll have to make due with the time we’ve got.” He stood up, taking Miles’ hand. “So we’d better get going!”
Miles stumbled to his feet as Powers led him out of the building in a manner equally as gentle as it was forceful, somehow. “W-wait, where are we going?!”
“To Ivy U!” Powers boomed. “I hope you’ve ridden an exercise bike before!”