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“Please, watch your step.”
“Which one? There’s a hundred steps here!”
“Good one, Truce.” Phoenix’s chuckle echoes through the front entrance of the von Karma manor. In his hand are bags of luggage, one trolley for him and Trucy, and a big suitcase that he insisted on carrying for Miles.
“This place is really cool, Mr. Edgeworth! You can see a lot of hills around… like… like Peppa pig!” Trucy exclaims, her chatter livening up the grueling experience of Manfred von Karma’s hundred steps of doom. She sits on Phoenix’s back, giving up after the twentieth step.
The empty manor sits tall on top of a hill, surrounded by a lush green forest. Miles had once spent a couple of years of his childhood here, but then they moved to another property his mentor had owned once he was a tween. Franziska took residence in that manor once the inheritance was settled, after insisting that Miles should get something.
“Destroy it, sell it, do whatever you want with it. I insist you get this at the very least.”
Now here he is, suffering through the very grand staircase that von Karma once cursed with his old legs. Miles and Franziska had both agreed that this was the reason why they moved to a smaller property. Small is an understatement, seeing that place was big enough for a field for horses. Still, this was the biggest property that von Karma owned, and if you can’t go for quantity, you can go for quality instead, whatever Franziska meant by that.
“I swear that show turns kids British." Phoenix mumbled to himself, but audible enough for the other two to hear. “How many steps are left? I haven’t been exercising lately and my legs are sore.”
“Just about twenty left. If it weren’t for the overgrown bushes, we would’ve been able to walk a little less through the front yard.” Miles spoke, it has been a while since this place had been maintained, particularly the garden. Other than that, it was rather impressive that Phoenix could handle two bags and a child at the same time if his claims of lack of exercise are true.
“Mr. Edgeworth, how aren’t you tired?” Trucy chirped, arms almost suffocating Phoenix’s neck.
“Truce, let me breathe for a bit here. These stairs are no joke.” Phoenix tries to adjust her arms farther from his neck.
“I’m used to climbing twelve flights of stairs daily.” Miles answered plainly.
“Why don’t you take the— ….” Trucy’s volume gradually decreased, trailing off till her words were barely audible. “Did you know I brought my crayons today?” She quickly changed the topic, like she had sensed that it was something she could not talk about.
“I did not.” Miles replied and paused. He has never been good at talking to children, so in each word he speaks, he wishes that he would utter the correct one. “...What colors are they?” A question related to the topic has always been a reliable option in conversations.
“The rainbow! I brought the whole pack!” Trucy smiles proudly.
“That is amazing.” Miles means it, he had never been inclined to any form of art other than writing.
“Finally…” Phoenix slumps as he finishes the last step. Trucy hops off Phoenix’s back carefully. “Must be getting old, my back can’t handle it anymore.”
“Keep up, Wright. There will be more of those going forward.” Miles unlocks the massive front door revealing a grand receiving area. Another staircase greets them a few steps away, and a long winding chandelier in the middle.
“It looks like it never ends!” Trucy peeks around the halls, expensive paintings and vases decorating the hallways.
“No thanks, I’d rather live on the couch.” Phoenix adjusts his beanie, sinking in the leather couch. He had placed the luggage near the door to be sorted later. “This is pretty nice.”
“I would hope so. It’s an antique couch from a few generations ago, it would've been a waste to keep it.” Miles sits prim and proper on the other side of it.
“Hear that, Trucy? Don’t do magic tricks near the expensive stuff.” Phoenix calls out. “Get the snacks out of the luggage, will you?”
“Yes, captain!” Trucy salutes, following her dad’s instructions. “No promises on the magic tricks though!”
“Hear that Edgeworth? Prepare yourself to lose your fine china.” Phoenix teases, Miles can only sigh in return.
“I could care less, but I’m sure the von Karma ancestors will surely be cursing your bloodline.” Miles crosses his arms, leaning on the couch for once. Phoenix can only shrug as a response.
“Snacks incoming!” Trucy shouts as a pack of chips lands smack right to Phoenix’s face.
“Maybe a little early warning next time?” Phoenix smiles crookedly, opening the packet. It’s a typical cheese flavored potato chip. “You want some?” He says to Miles between his chewing.
“I have already eaten.” Miles refuses the offer.
“I’m sure there’s peanuts somewhere in the bag. You can get those instead.” Phoenix points to the luggage, now fully open with Trucy digging through it.
“I might give it a look later.” Miles responds tiredly. There is really no winning against this man.
“Mr. Edgeworth, can I draw on the table there?” Trucy asks, approaching them with a sketchbook and crayons on hand.
“Go ahead.” Miles adjusts his glasses, bringing his phone out to read. It has been a while since he read, so a backlog of updates in his personal email awaits him.
“Yay! Thanks, Mr. Edgeworth!” Trucy smiles and settles on the floor, making room and placing her art supplies on the wooden living room table.
Trucy hums, happily in her own world, switching between multiple colors. Yellow, Red, Blue, Pink.
“It looks like she drew the classic sun on the edge of the paper.” Phoenix whispers. He already finished eating his pack of chips, the packaging lying on the small side table.
“I believe that’s why they call it classic.” Miles raises an eyebrow, as if questioning why Phoenix had interrupted his reading time.
“Time flies.” Phoenix says all of a sudden, nostalgic. His mismatched eyes turn to gaze at Trucy, who is fully focused on her work.
“So it does.” Miles’ stormy gray ones follow Phoenix’s sight. To the child that was an unexpected blessing to his dearest companion, yet a welcome miracle.
“She was so small before, y’know?” Phoenix’s voice was small, barely a whisper. Miles remembers, he remembers it so well.
Trucy is turning eleven soon, one of the reasons why Phoenix had agreed to another vacation in Germany. In Germany, away from everything, they can pretend everything is alright. Phoenix can just be Phoenix and Trucy can just be his daughter. It has almost been three years since Phoenix’s world was flipped upside down, and to an extent, Miles’ as well.
“Your ‘law aid’ excuse must be getting old for you to involve Trucy this time.” Phoenix chuckles, not a trace of the sadness that Miles could hear from his voice just a second ago.
“Hm.” Miles chose not to answer. It’s been a rough couple of years, and sometimes Phoenix having a daughter still feels unreal. He could never forget the day he met Trucy, around as old as when he arrived in this very place they’re in right now.
“My name is Trucy Wright! What's your name, Mr. Daddy’s special friend?”
He never knew what having children around the house was really like, as he already felt grown enough at that age. It feels surreal to remember feeling so old but truly seeing how young he was back then. Maybe he was as small as the smiling strong girl he saw barely a year ago. Maybe even smaller. Unlike him who had to face the horror of his new reality with minimal guidance, Phoenix desperately tried to protect her and shield her away from everything, and that meant even his closest confidants.
Trucy doodles in the wooden table with her sketchbook and green crayon, vaguely resembling three stick figures and a blob.
“Daddy! These new crayons sucks! It smudged all over my hand, now it's all messed up!” Trucy complains, showing off the art.
“This is still pretty good don’t you think? I like the uh, bush thing you got going here.” Phoenix points out the unrecognizable figure marked with a gray crayon.
“That’s Pess! The crayons made him not at all Pess-like!” Trucy exclaimed. “Ugh! I have to start all over now!”
“How about you draw with a pencil instead? You’re great with a pencil.” Phoenix suggests, he turns to Miles. “You have a pencil?”
“It’s ‘Do you have a pencil?’, Wright. I had already let you have a pass with the chips, I would not let this one go by.” Miles sighs, “But yes, I do have a pencil in my study. Second floor, fourth room to the right.”
Trucy dashes to the room, in an adventurous quest to find decent art supplies.
“What are you planning to do with it?” Phoenix starts as soon as Trucy is out of hearing range.
“Excuse me?” Miles got caught off-guard with the sudden question. He can never truly know what’s running in that man’s head. “...The pencil…?”
“The manor. You clearly don’t like this place.” Phoenix speaks casually, as if his logic was perfectly absolute.
That was the thing about Phoenix Wright, he speaks of his convictions and accusations confidently, regardless if it’s incorrect. Truly living up to his name, the ‘Turnabout Terror’. Miles has been a witness of this time and time again, and it never fails to surprise him each time.
“Urgk…” Miles couldn’t bring himself to answer. It was clear that Phoenix hit it right on the mark.
“I really don’t feel like getting chips out of the luggage right now…” Phoenix murmurs, and puts his hands on his jacket pockets. It was clear he was waiting for a reply.
Miles takes a deep breath.
“I…. do not know.” Miles answers truthfully instead of saying objections. He has been trying to learn to speak out instead of caging himself in the past years. “This manor carries some… unsavory memories… yet I did grow fond of it.”
There was once a time where Franziska toddled through these halls, where she welcomed him even if she didn’t fully understand what it meant for him to be here. An easy acceptance of a new brother whose nightmares never died down every night, a promise of a big sister to protect him. Those days were easier because of her, but he would never say it out loud.
“...I’ll have to think more about it.” Miles clutches his arm, averting his eyes.
“I found it!” Trucy yells out, holding a pencil with one hand. “It was pretty easy finding the pencil… The hallway just went on so long I didn’t know if I was going the right way!” Trucy slowly goes down the stairs, looking exhausted.
“Maybe you should take a break from drawing, Truce. I’ll keep the drawing for now, you can fix it again later.” Phoenix picked up the paper from the table, folding it and stuffing it neatly in his pocket once Trucy nodded.
“You can put your stuff away in the room on the third floor, third to the left. Wright, your room is right beside it.” Miles got up to bring Trucy, who was still standing at the end of the staircase, the luggage himself, but Phoenix got to it first.
“I can handle it.” Phoenix says, almost threateningly.
“Of course you can.” Miles tries not to provoke him. He has learned his lesson before. “I’ll call for a dinner delivery.” Miles takes out his forgotten phone, exiting his browser to open a delivery app. He cannot believe he’s going to say it but, “....You want anything in particular?” He sighs. Being with this man truly, truly changed him.
Phoenix let out a small smile that sounded like he was trying to stop a laugh.
“Anything you want, my taste might not match this fancy manor.” Phoenix replies. Miles rolls his eyes in response.
“I want Pizza! Pepperoni, please!” Trucy spoke up, raising her hand up.
“You heard the girl.” Phoenix shrugs.
“Pizza, it is.” Miles says. He opens the app, ordering one pepperoni and one spinach pizza as the two depart to their respective rooms.
Once they are gone, Miles decides to take a stroll around the manor. Apart from being dusted, he hasn’t been here for a long time. He spends his days and nights on cases and whatever time is left living in hotel rooms or visiting Phoenix and his daughter.
His hands trace along the walls, feeling every ridge and bump.
Why did he really come back to this place? He asks himself. If he had wanted Trucy to have a change in scenery, he could’ve brought her anywhere. If he really felt pity for the rundown manor, he would’ve maintained it better or donated it to charity like Franziska did with other properties. What was it that pulled him back to this cursed place?
As he approached a certain area, he stilled.
Nothing changed. Everything was just as he remembers. He still knows the very spots where Franziska would hide whenever she insisted on playing hide and seek, a ‘childish game fit for a foolish child’, something that Franziska used to cheer him up. He could remember the tranquil days where he would sit in the inner garden’s stone benches, longing for his father. Nights where the stars would accompany him whenever he couldn’t sleep. Those little moments drowned the scolding and harsh teachings of a mentor that betrayed him.
This was a shelter that once provided comfort to him, in some twisted way.
Although everything looked exactly the same, something had changed. Everything looks smaller now, lighter even. Back then when he was a child, everything looked imposing, intimidating. The atmosphere only served to aid his perceptions. Before, the shadows used to be a lot darker, as if ready to consume him whole. Now, Miles finds himself looking for the shadows of his childhood in an empty manor of an empty man.
Miles Edgeworth, once a boy who felt like he had lost everything, now had something after all.
Ding!
The doorbell rings, which means that the pizza must be outside of the gates that surround the manor. The downsides of an inherited ancient manor is the lack of automation around, he would need to open the gates himself, which meant going back to the hundred steps that never seemed to end once more, and half the garden to drive his car to the gates. He really should’ve hired a gardener.
The things he does for those two really. He shakes his head, yet he couldn’t stop the small smile showing on his face, his eyes crinkling a little.
“I must’ve gone all soft.” Miles sighs, crossing his arms. They could never see this, or else he wouldn’t be hearing the end of it.
He turns back on the shadows that followed him throughout his childhood, and into the warm light that started creeping in on the day he was saved. He never looks back.
—
“Do they put some special pizza ingredients in Germany?” Trucy asks between chews, devouring her pizza.
“Slow down, Truce, the pizza isn’t going anywhere.” Phoenix chuckles, taking a bite of his’ as well.
Phoenix, Trucy, and Miles all gathered together around the living room table, eating their dinner as Trucy insisted that the dining room, with its long fancy table and heavy memories that she couldn’t have known, looked a little too sad. Trucy and Phoenix both eat pizza straight out of the box, but Miles opted to use a paper plate and utensils to cut his pizza and eat it with a fork. It was much tidier that way even if Phoenix teases him for being ‘pretentious’.
“How is school? Are there any kids giving you a hard time?” Miles asks Trucy. He read in a parenting book that showing a safe, open environment to express what the child feels is needed.
“Pretty good. Kids at school love my magic tricks. The only other interesting thing in school was this couple who kept breaking up and going back together so seeing magic tricks is pretty amazing to them.” Trucy says simply.
“Goodness, relationships that young…” Miles murmurs.
“I mean, I had the biggest crush on you in grade school, Edgeworth. Kids being in love isn’t anything new.” Phoenix takes another big bite of his pizza.
“Really, daddy!? Tell me more!” Trucy, all of a sudden got interested, tugging her dad to shake the details out of him.
“Well—” Phoenix starts.
Suddenly, an old memory pulls Miles back, to the writings that once professed love and longing that he wanted to reply but couldn’t bring himself to even if he were able to. Those nights spent under a flickering candle flame hiding, trying to think of a response, but never ending well. Letters that kept him company until he ultimately tried to erase his past.
“That reminds me, I should get something quickly from my bedroom.” Miles smiles slyly, throwing away his plate and utensils and washing his hands on the sink nearby.
“What was that about?” Phoenix asks, eating his last pizza and washing his hands as well.
Trucy shrugs, eating her last pizza as well, throwing away the box and following her dad by washing her hands too. “I’m gonna brush my teeth.”
“Yeah, me too.”
—
“My apologies that it took me long, I figured I should do my nightly routine while I’m at it.” Miles reappeared with his pink pajamas on, but without the nightcap that Trucy once called ‘silly’, holding a box in his arms.
“What’s in the box?” Trucy curiously asks. She’s in her pajamas as well, matching the ones Miles wears. After the first time she saw Miles in pajamas, she wanted one to match with him.
“Your father might know.” Miles says, handing the box to her.
“Know what?” Phoenix asks, appearing as he discarded his typical hoodie for a set of the same pajamas. They all looked like a family ready for picture day.
“This is a bit heavy.” Trucy complains, and places the box on the living room table, opening the lid.
“Those are—” Phoenix’s eyes widened. “No, no, no, no,” he says in disbelief. “You kept these?”
In the box are letters sent by little Phoenix after he had found out the residence’s address. The box is filled to the brim with these letters, the handwriting on the pages getting a little neater as time passes.
Trucy picks one up randomly.
“I miss you everyday. Cherry blossoms bloomed this spring but I couldn’t care less because I could not stop thinking about you—” Trucy gleefully starts to read before Phoenix snatches it out of her grip and closes the lid on the box.
“Some things are meant to be unread.” Phoenix says, eyes stern, but his face betrays him as he reddens out of embarrassment. He glares at Miles. “I’m not gonna ask about these as long as we never talk about this again.”
Miles can only smile so smugly, till his mouth starts wobbling. Once Phoenix glared at him, like a dam that bursted, he let go of his self-control. His eyes crinkled in delight and he let out small giggles that made him sound like a pig. It doesn’t sound pretty, but it’s genuine and raw. His uncontrollable laughter erupted, evolving to a much louder sound. A rare laughter that never once rang out in these halls.
All his worries vanished in an instant. Gone was the little Miles Edgeworth who felt grown in this big manor, gone was the bitter memories that clung to him like poison. The sight of the manor fades away, and his world feels like it's just him and them, together like a family, like how it’s supposed to be. Trucy joins in with her giggles, while Phoenix just brightly smiles, still guarding the box.
“Let’s watch a movie!” Trucy suggested, raising her hands up to the air to emphasize her point.
And of course they did watch one. It was fun and it was amazing. It was even better because they all had each other.
—
Miles finds the pair of father and daughter fast asleep, their hair ruffled, drooling over the thousand dollar couch, their expression looking more similar day by day.
With silent feet and a gentle touch, he wraps a blanket around the two. Trucy burrowed under it, wrapping her snugly. As Miles sits next to them, he suddenly notices the couch has plenty of space for one more. Miles can feel the weight on his eyelids and the siren call of sleep taking over him, but if anyone asks, it was simply an accident.
Although shadows still lurk around this manor that he grew up in, the light that continues on saving him still shines so brightly. As he falls deeper and deeper to sleep, he gets enveloped into a familiar yet unfamiliar warmth. The warmth of love, family and most importantly, coming home. Miles wouldn’t trade it for any other way.
I am home, he says.
Welcome home, they say back.