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Phoenix had never truly intended to compete with Edgeworth at anything, not in the classroom, and certainly not beyond. Little Miles submitted all his homework early and got 110% on every exam. From afar, Phoenix watched in the news as a teenage Miles entered the University of Munich early—not quite as early as Franziska, but still at a respectable barely-sixteen.
And if Phoenix was even remotely comparable in the courtroom as an adult, he knew full well that was only due to luck, and to his rotating crew of supernaturally lie-detecting assistants. Here was Mia flouting death itself to give him courtroom hints, and there was Edgeworth keeping up on human Logic alone. So when he found himself disbarred, it felt like a return to the natural order of things. Phoenix was homeless, and Edgeworth was an internationally-renowned prosecutor. Phoenix was jobless, and Edgeworth had a waiting list several months long. Phoenix was badgeless, unlike Edgeworth.
Edgeworth was taking on crime syndicates that threatened the world; Phoenix's daughter was his world.
And that was just fine by him! Really! Phoenix wasn't made for the global stage, after all! He was a normal guy, for crying out loud! Just a normal guy living a normal life.
But Trucy wasn't going to be a normal girl in a normal world. Phoenix's little girl was born from a long line of performers. The world was her stage, and performing was in her blood, and the world would not be safe for her while that scoundrel Kristoph ran amok with the legal system. So Phoenix heaved a great sigh, stitched a recorder into his beanie, and got back to work.
Seven years later, he came out the other side, sagging in relief—but not surprise. He'd taken apart and reshaped the courts with his own hands and the work of his own body, become the schemer he never thought he could be. "You haven't lost your touch," the judge had said. Phoenix hadn't realize he'd had a touch. But now... now he knew it in his bones. Never again would he rely on magic and the supernatural for his success. He was worthy to stand in court as Miles Edgeworth's equal.
His equal, and more. He'd even caught the prosecutor's elusive attentions.
And, like an afterthought, he had a badge again. Such a minor thing, yet it seemed the gleaming symbol of their newfound equality. Lying next to Edgeworth in the dark, in the deep contentment of post-coital bliss, he idly voice the thought out loud. "It seems we are on even footing again, Edgeworth."
"What do you mean?" Edgeworth replied drowsily. "Though our circumstances may have differed, I never considered you anything but."
"Abroad, perhaps. But here? What would the papers have said?"
"Enlighten me. What would they have said, Wright?"
"Demon Prosecutor Associating with Evidence-Forging Ex-Attorney," Phoenix replied. "Your professional integrity would have been in question."
"Very well, Wright. You're no fool, and I won't pretend otherwise. I can only serve the city and its people due to their trust, and I'm insufficiently skilled in lying to carry out a clandestine relationship. We could not have dated so long as your name was tainted."
"How romantic," Phoenix scoffed. "I supposed I'm flattered you'd risk your professional career to impersonate a Defense Attorney on my behalf."
Edgeworth frowned, but said nothing.
"But now that's changed," Phoenix continued triumphantly. "Now we are equals, in name, standing, and accreditation. I'm finally a suitable partner for you!"
"... yes."
Edgeworth was a man of many talents, but lying was not among them. The slight tensing of his shoulders, the half-second's hesitation—it was all Phoenix needed to sit up, wide-eyed and alert. After so long in the Borscht Bowl, among seasoned poker players and career liars, he didn't need the familiar clacking of chains to inform him of Edgeworth's lie... though the confirmation was nice to have.
In the darkness, the magatama glowed blindingly-bright. Phoenix brandished it like a weapon, pointing it at the one red lock over Edgeworth's chest. "You don't think I'm a suitable partner for you!" he wailed, betrayed.
Edgeworth sat up too, with a sigh that lasted a full twenty seconds. The magatama illuminated his most condescending, slow drawn-out eyeroll. "Use your head, Wright. If that's what I believed, the magatama would have lit up when I asked you to dinner, or when I invited you in, or when I said yes harder, or any of a thousand other times I encouraged your attentions!"
"Oh yeah. Right," Phoenix said sheepishly. "Then—"
"Nonetheless, my dedication to the literal truth has come to my disadvantage. Yes, my statement would have been considered perjury in court."
What statement? Phoenix replayed his last words in his head. We are equals in name and in standing? Though he couldn't compete with Edgeworth's fame abroad, Phoenix was practically a celebrity in Japanifornia. Name and standing weren't measurable quantities anyhow; imprecision in those measures would not have constituted perjury.
That left....
Edgeworth reached over, rummaged in his drawer, and then held out his hand. In the magatama's dimming glow, light glinted off the flower-shaped badge resting on his palm. His prosecutor's badge, Phoenix thought at first glance, but by habit, he took it anyway and turned it over in his hand, examining it from all angles. This badge had five petals instead of the usual four.
"My accreditations outnumber your own, Wright."
Phoenix squinted at the tiny letters in the center: C.A.F. "Crimson... Annoying... Fussyface," he guessed.
"Certified Associate Florist," Edgeworth corrected. "I hope you know I consider this difference between us to be negligible."
"...... yeah."
Edgeworth sighed again as he flopped himself back down on the bed. "Wright, you're brooding."
"I am not brooding!"
"You are absolutely brooding! See, this is precisely why I didn't want to bring it up!"
🎖️
Phoenix tried to put it out of his mind, with about as much success as all his years spent trying to put Edgeworth out of his mind. Several times a day, he'd catch himself fingering his one badge, lost in his thoughts. He'd shake his head vigorously and refocus on his witness or crime scene. But at night, when there was nothing before him to read or investigate, his thoughts ran amok. Less qualified, less certified, lesser lesser less—
In the morning, Phoenix stared at his reflection with bloodshot eyes. There was only one way. He had to get certified in something, or it would never end. He'd never get a good night of sleep again.
But what? Something quick. Preferably something he could self-study. Not flowers, certainly not, that would be like copying Edgeworth, but something along that line. He contemplated while getting dressed, biking to the office, and brewing a pot of coffee.
The aroma of Kurain's Medium Brew, a gift from Maya, filled the room. Phoenix paused, then smiled. He knew just the thing.
"Now we are not only equals de facto, we are equals de jure!" Phoenix announced a week later.
"Oh?" Edgeworth said with a little resigned sigh; he'd given up on cajoling Phoenix out of his misery.
Phoenix nodded. "Today I went down to Kurain Village's Coffee Management Office—their coffee brews at a lower temperature, and it would hurt their sales if people served it burnt! Only their list of Official Coffee Makers are allowed to advertise it by name, as Kurain's Medium Brew on their menus."
"Get to the point, Wright."
"I'm getting there! Patience, Edgeworth! Anyway, to become Official, one must apply and then brew the coffee for a panel of tasters. And guess who had their scheduled taste-test appointment today!"
"How could I possibly guess."
Phoenix thrust his hand out, proudly displaying the Official Coffee Makers badge. "Yes! Me! I'll wear this badge beside my Attorney's Badge, and all the world will know that I can be just as accredited as the Chief Prosecutor! How's that, Edgeworth?"
Edgeworth glanced at the badge. "It's all rather unnecessary, but if it makes you happy, I won't object. We are fully equals, and now we can put this whole ordeal to rest—Wright? Wright? What's the matter? Oh, come now. You can't be serious."
Edgeworth went back to his reading, ignoring Phoenix gaping like a fish and pointing a horrified finger at his chest, where the red lock must surely have been.
🎖️
It turned out that Edgeworth was also a registered Specialist Dog Groomer.
"I never said I had exactly one accreditation more than you," he'd huffed, when Phoenix had finally found his voice and questioned him in anguish. "You made that assumption yourself. If you must know, I wished to purchase Pess's shampoo from the manufacturer at wholesale prices. To do that, I had to be a registered groomer. It's hardly a relevant certification."
But that did not comfort Phoenix in the slightest, and soon he was a registered Cat Handler. "Are we equal now?" he demanded, barging into Edgeworth's office unannounced.
"Really, this foolishness has gone on long enough. Why do you care so much about badges anyway? You are a defense attorney who stands as my equal, and the equal of any prosecutor in the city. Whether you're a Cat Handler has no bearing on that."
"You didn't answer the question!" Phoenix countered. "You're avoiding perjury again! Well? What else is it?"
The angrier Edgeworth got, the more pompous his speech became. "I plead the Fifth," he now said icily.
"You what?"
"The Fifth. Truly, Wright, your understanding of trial law rivals only your lack in evidence law," Edgeworth sneered. "Just as I refuse to perjure myself, neither shall I incriminate myself. If only because enumerating my accreditations is an extensive waste of my time and yours."
"Extensive...? Jesus, Edgeworth. How many do you have?"
Edgeworth called Security to have Phoenix removed from his office.
🎖️
Undeterred, Phoenix enlisted all his friends and subordinates to help him track down Edgeworth's certifications. Kay found a new way to break into his apartment or office each day, Ema supplied an endless array of powders and lab tests, and Trucy stood guard with a bag of tricks ready should they need a distraction and a quick escape. It took him half a year before he'd searched every nook and cranny, uncovering badges and certificates along the way, and declared the investigation complete.
"We're finished?" Kay said in disappointment. "Alright, I guess you can have this now. Here." She gave Phoenix a copy of Edgeworth's apartment key.
"You've had this all along and yet you made me climb the fire escape?" Phoenix sputtered.
Silence. Phoenix looked up to find the window open, and Kay nowhere in sight.
Meanwhile, Apollo scoured the public registries for any mention of Edgeworth's name, and Athena handled 24-hour surveillance of his movements. Phoenix got certified in one thing after another. When he discovered Edgeworth was a Notary Public, Phoenix became an ordained Wedding Officiant. When he found Edgeworth was an FAA-Certified Remote Drone Pilot, which he used to investigate criminals, of course, Phoenix became an OSHA-Certified Forklift Operator. It wasn't quite as useful in his line of work, but close enough.
But the real test came when Edgeworth showed up on the Steel Samurai official listing of Top Fans: Stainless Steel Grade. He was one of only two fans who'd ever made the cut. With apprehension, Phoenix clicked into the qualifications page and read the requirements. "Complete a thousand-question exam with 95% accuracy," Phoenix read aloud. Well, he wasn't an expert, but he knew Steel's favorite foods and his most famous battles. "How hard can it be? I can do it!" He downloaded a sample test filled with absurd minutiae, What are the Nickel Samurai's five favorite attacks and so on, and immediately fell into despair.
"It's easy," Maya said, reading over his shoulder. "The strongest is the secret move he used to defeat his archnemesis in the season five finale...."
Phoenix came away with a strong hunch who the other Top Fan was.
So becoming a Top Fan was out, but so was becoming a Junior Fan. "I can't be so directly inferior to him in the same thing!" Phoenix complained, and Maya relented. But after hours of brainstorming, the only alternative they'd found was a stab in the back: the worst betrayal.
"What's this?" Edgeworth snarled, storming into the Wright Anything Agency and holding an envelope in his fist so tightly it was wrinkling.
"Oh, just my Jammin' Ninja Apprentice Certificate," Phoenix said blithely. "Problem, Edgeworth?"
"N-none, none at all!" Edgeworth stammered out, as his face began to crumple. "I just thought... we seemed in agreement, you and I, that the Steel Samurai is the superior franchise, and one that united us... but if this is what you prefer, I'm prepared to accept—"
"I don't," Phoenix interrupted. "The Steel Samurai would've my first choice too. But I can't get the same thing as you! Doesn't that feel disingenuous?"
The grief was fading off Edgeworth's face, leaving only bafflement behind. "Why would you think that?"
Phoenix waved his hands haplessly in the air, struggling to find the words. "Like... like... like I'm following in your footsteps? I dunno," he said with a sigh. "Just kind of like I'm a worse version of you... like I'm letting my life be steered by someone else. I mean, can you imagine you with a defense attorney's badge?"
"Yes, if my childhood had allowed," Edgeworth said, unsmiling.
Too late, Phoenix remembered everything. He groaned into his hands. "Sorry," he mumbled, ashamed. "What I meant was, can you imagine you as a defense attorney now? You, the famed, established Chief Prosecutor?"
"Yes," Edgeworth repeated.
"Wh—really? Now you're just saying that to argue."
Edgeworth's wording was growing grandiose again. "I assure you that your narrow imagination is not a limitation I share."
He sounded so certain that Phoenix was struck by a sudden suspicion: Edgeworth did not seem to be speaking hypothetically.
"As it happens, you needn't strain your faculties," Edgeworth continued. "To my office. Now."
🎖️
Phoenix was surprised when Edgeworth opened his top desk drawer, the most obvious place in the office. Phoenix had spent six months searching, dusting, and fingerprinting the place. He was sure there was nothing of interest in the desk.
Edgeworth took out a keyring. "Follow me," he said tersely. He led Phoenix down eleven flights of stairs, through a security checkpoint, and then down another flight, until they arrived at a familiar room.
"The evidence locker?" Phoenix yelled, outraged. "You've been hiding additional badges here?"
"Not badges, plural," Edgeworth said tensely. "Just the one." He walked over to a small locker containing the evidence from the Furio Tigre case.
Inside, next to the cardboard attorney's badge, was a real one.
"No way," Phoenix breathed.
"Feel free to inspect it," Edgeworth said. "You're quite the expert on these."
Phoenix picked up the gleaming golden badge. It was exactly the right shape, a familiar little weight in his palm. "How?" he asked, disbelieving and shocked to his core.
"I took the examination early in the morning, the day that I was to defend Miss Iris," Edgeworth explained. "It was a hefty fee to expedite my testing, not to mention the cost of flying in the examiner. But I assure you, in every regard, the test was entirely official and conducted honestly."
"But... but... I would've been so happy for you. This is like your childhood dream coming true."
"The only reason I kept this from you was that I couldn't bear the injustice of holding one, while you were stripped of yours."
"That's... huh." A new implication crossed Phoenix's mind. "So... when I thought you'd risk it all by impersonating a defense attorney in court—"
"Sorry to disappoint, Wright. I stood in court an honest defense attorney."
"Objection," Phoenix protested weakly. "You still walked into court and introduced yourself as Phoenix Wright. Why care so much about one perjury when you were committing another? Unless...?"
Edgeworth gritted his teeth, and said nothing at all.
"No," Phoenix said, aghast.
Edgeworth gripped his elbow tightly, but he met Phoenix's gaze squarely, almost defiantly. "I also legally changed my name to Phoenix Wright."
Phoenix spent several minutes tearing at his hair and screaming before he calmed down enough to continue the conversation. "How?" he sputtered indignantly. "Don't you have to publish your intention to change your name in a paper, and let it run for three weeks? Did you expedite that too?"
"Under normal circumstances, that is the correct procedure. However there is one method that does not require that particular step. Can you think of what it is, Wright?"
He could. He did not want to believe it. "Marriage," Phoenix croaked.
"Precisely." Edgeworth gave a sharp nod. "Upon marriage, I could choose any name I desired, and the change would take immediate effect. Naturally, I married Sister Bikini that very night, the night you made your request."
Phoenix's mouth was so dry he could barely talk. "Are you still married?"
"Goodness, no. I waited a respectable year, and then we amicably divorced."
"Are you still named Phoenix Wright?"
"Perish the thought."
🎖️
So now Phoenix knew that Edgeworth was the most honest, most literal, and most pedantic man on Earth. He himself couldn't hope to become a prosecutor in a day. Fuming, he went to Trucy and learned how to tie handkerchiefs together for her magic tricks, and then got certified as a Rag Tangler.
He stumbled into Edgeworth's office during lunch hour. "Am I as accredited as you now?" he asked wearily.
Edgeworth had given up on attempting to lie. Now, he simply massaged his temples, heaved a long sigh, and then said "ZS-5" with no explanation whatsoever. Phoenix went over to his shelf and found the case—the Bruce Goodman case. He opened it and read until he came across a photo of Edgeworth, frowning, shaking hands with a beaming Gant. He was holding a large trophy.
"The King of Prosecutors award," Phoenix groaned.
"The trophy itself was taken as evidence, and photos of Gant were removed from display after his crimes came to light. You wouldn't have come across it in your many searches," Edgeworth said gently.
"You knew about that?"
"Of course, Wright. Did you think I wouldn't notice the footprints on my rugs, or my things turning up crooked?"
That night, Trucy made him a Best Daddy medal.
"How about now?" Phoenix asked the next day.
"Apologies, Wright," Edgeworth said, and he did look genuinely sorry. "Last night, I was reviewing the evidence photos of the shattered fish tank. The arguments puzzled me, so I began an online tutorial on tank setup to better understand the reasoning. Upon completing the video, I was automatically awarded the Small Tank Specialist certification. I will send you the link so that you can complete it too."
'My office computer doesn't even work!" Phoenix howled. He went over to Edgeworth's apartment after work, and watched the video on Edgeworth's computer, and became a Small Tank Specialist as well. Then he let Edgeworth take him out to a nice dinner, followed by a lovely hot couples shower, and a delightful evening in bed.
"And now?" Phoenix asked drowsily, expectantly. They were right where they'd started, so many months ago: side-by-side, hand-in-hand, heart-to-heart. Equals.
"Yes," Edgeworth said, with conviction. He did not reach for his elbow, nor did he hesitate. With all his years of poker experience, Phoenix did not see any hint of a lie.
Yet still, the chains clattered down, and the red lock formed over Edgeworth's heart. Exactly as before.
Edgeworth looked at Phoenix's face, then his own chest, and he sighed deeply. "Your guess is as good as mine," he said simply. "Perhaps my subconscious is aware of something I am not, but I give you my oath and my word: I have thought long and hard, scoured all my records, and done my best to enumerate my many accreditations. There is nothing else that I can recall, nor is there any need to continue this wild goose chase. You are my equal, as you have always been. You shine as brightly and true as stars in my eyes. I would have none other than you."
"Y-you mean it?" Phoenix stammered, his voice choked with emotion.
"I solemnly swear that this is the truth. The whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I swear it."
No chains appeared, no locks formed over his heart. The magatama lay dark and silent.
"I have a license in mind that we can acquire jointly. You can even change your name if you wish," Edgeworth added.
Phoenix swiped futilely at the tears pouring down his face. "Alright," he whispered, and he meant it. For the first time in many months, he was at peace.
🎖️
Neither of them would ever know that Phoenix had been just one accreditation short. Edgeworth held a driver's license, and in all his years, Phoenix never thought to get one.