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January 6, 2002
Japanifornia Airport
6:00 AM
Phoenix tugged his coat tighter around himself as he stumbled through the snowdrifts. Snow was falling in thick sheets around him, wind lashing his face like a thousand tiny needles. It was piled so high it reached his knees, soaking through his jeans and leaving his legs red and tingling from the cold. He could see his breath escape in little puffs, like smoke drifting in the wind.
He shoved his hands into his pockets more firmly and wished, for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, that he'd remembered to put on some mittens before he left. He wished, too, that he had taken his bike. It would have been faster. But it also would have been much riskier, he reminded himself. If his parents had overheard something and caught him sneaking out at this hour...
Well. This was the only way.
His nose and cheeks felt frozen solid, his legs were going numb, and he was pretty sure a chunk of ice had found its way into one of his sneakers. But he was almost there, and that thought kept propelling him forward, feet moving almost of their own accord.
He had to find Miles.
He had to.
Up ahead, the airport stretched out before him, glittering with lights and already humming with life, despite the early hour. Phoenix’s eyes swept the crowd, and his head started to spin at the sight of people rushing past in every direction.
There was still no sign of him.
(This was stupid.) He hugged himself tighter against the cold. (There are so many people here...How am I supposed to find one kid in all this?)
He shook his head and stomped forward, squaring his shoulders against the wind. He’d come too far to give up now, and this was much too important a mission.
The automatic doors swished open with a sigh, and warm air rushed to meet him. It eased the chill in his limbs, but not the one lodged deep in his chest. That ache only seemed to settle deeper as he took in the full sight of the chaos in front of him. There were even more people inside, if that was possible. Voices layered over one another like static; the air was filled with the clatter of luggage wheels and sharp bursts of half-heard conversations. Phoenix’s chest tightened. His thoughts swam.
(Miles and I have always been there for each other before. I can't give up on him now...)
"What seems to be the matter, young man?"
The voice was booming—oddly formal, somehow loud, even in the cacophony of the terminal. Phoenix flinched and looked up. And up. And up.
The man was tall. Towering, really. And kind of... intimidating. He looked like he might be old, but not in the nice grandpa way—more like the strict principal kind of old. Then again, Phoenix thought everyone was kind of old. His hair was perfectly neat, and his clothes looked expensive and stiff. He carried a sleek briefcase in one hand, and with the other, he held on tightly to the hand of a small girl. She was maybe three or four, Phoenix guessed, though her dour expression made her seem much older. Her eyes darted around the terminal, intelligent and analytical; when her gaze landed on Phoenix, she regarded him sharply, like he was just another problem to solve.
"Um." Phoenix blinked. He swallowed hard, trying not to think too much about his mismatched shoelaces or the way his nose was still runny from being out in the cold. "Thanks, mister. I'm just...I'm trying to find a friend of mine. I wouldn't wanna bother you or anything."
"Nonsense." The man's voice was mild, but there was something about the way his brows knit together as he looked him over. "It's no bother at all. What is your friend like?"
Phoenix glanced back over at the little girl, who was still watching him with large, curious eyes. She parted her lips as though there was something she wanted to say, but then pouted again in concentration. Phoenix tried offering her a small smile; she didn't return it.
(Jeez. Guess I'm not that great with kids...)
"He's nine, like me," he stammered. "Gray hair, kinda skinny."
That got a reaction from the man—barely. His expression didn't exactly change, but something behind his eyes shifted.
"He was supposed to be here," Phoenix continued. He chewed his lip and looked down at his hands, still pink from the cold. "He's..." He took a deep breath; it was meant to steady him, but if anything, it only seemed to make him feel worse. He didn't want to say this next part; it would just make everything feel real. But if it would be helpful, he supposed... "He's moving away. His name's Miles."
The little girl's eyes lit up. She gestured frantically for the man to bend down so she could whisper something into his ear.
"Ja," he muttered back, nodding curtly to her. They both were glancing over at Phoenix out of the corner of their eyes, as though he wasn't there. "Ich denke schon."
Phoenix blinked.
"You'll have to forgive my daughter," the man said, turning his attention to Phoenix and giving him a sharp nod in turn. "She's young yet; she only knows our mother tongue, I'm afraid."
Phoenix offered him a tight, polite smile; the one he usually reserved for relatives he didn't see that often who always felt the need to comment on how tall he was getting.
"But we believe we may know where you can find who you're looking for. I would suggest checking Gate 4."
Phoenix took off in that direction the moment those words reached his ears, wet sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. He had just enough presence of mind to shout a "thank you" over his shoulder as he bolted as fast as his legs could carry him.
"Miles!" Phoenix called out as he ran, his eyes still scanning the crowds with single-minded purpose. He knew he probably looked ridiculous, but he didn't care; he was on a mission, and he was going to do everything in his power to see it through.
As he approached the gate, his footsteps slowed, then stilled. Someone was standing there, their back turned to Phoenix. They were about his height, with a tousled mop of gray hair and shoulders that sagged as though they were carrying the weight of the world. They let out a sigh as Phoenix approached from behind, and the voice sounded like...
Phoenix's heart leapt.
"Miles?!"
Miles started, then turned to face him, wearing a weary smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Phoenix. It's you."
They both met in the middle. Phoenix had been bursting with excitement and relief, but he softened now that he was actually getting a good look.
Miles looked paler than usual, drawn and worn. His eyes were glassy and a bit pink around the edges; his nose was raw and red. He was carrying a duffel bag larger than his entire torso—or, more so, it seemed to be carrying him.
"Yeah. It's me." Phoenix shuffled his weight from one foot to the other and scuffed his shoe against the floor. He wasn't really sure how else to fill the silence. Nothing he could say seemed to sound right.
"I see you met the people I'll be staying with from now on," Miles said, trying his best to sound noncommittal.
"That old guy and the little girl?" Phoenix waited for the nod, then tried braving a hesitant smile. "Yeah, they told me where to find you. They seem...nice." He felt like his tongue was too big for his mouth, but he felt the need to just say something, even if it didn't all make sense.
Miles shrugged, the weight of the bag making the movement clumsy. "I suppose so. von Karma has told me I should be grateful he's agreed to take me in." But even as he said it, the words sounded hollow, like a speech he'd rehearsed but didn't actually believe.
"Did he know your dad?"
Phoenix regretted it the instant he said it.
Miles' lip trembled, just for a moment, and Phoenix thought he could hear the other boy's breathing hitch. But then Miles looked up and gave a small, practiced smile. "I think so. Maybe. I don't really know."
Miles set his bag down and sat on top of it, limbs dangling awkwardly, like a marionette whose strings had been cut. "I think they may have worked together? Father didn't say much about him, if they did."
Phoenix nodded and took a few hesitant steps forward. Miles thought about it a second, then scooted over a few inches and patted the spot beside him on the bag. They sat together quietly for a moment, before Miles took a shaky breath that sounded almost painful.
"Father didn't like to talk about work much at all, really," he said, fidgeting with the sleeve of his coat. "He always said it was...nothing a child needed to worry about. That I would have plenty of opportunity, when I got older, to see the ugliness in the world, but for now, I should focus on its beauty."
Phoenix reached over to take his hand and give it an encouraging squeeze. Miles sniffled, but he continued.
"I think I'm starting to understand what he was talking about."
His eyes grew hot then, prickling with tears. But he clenched the fist of his free hand so hard the knuckles turned white and his nails dug into his palms. He'd done enough crying in these past few days to last a lifetime. Now was not the time.
"Your dad was a really good person," Phoenix murmured, looking down at their joined hands. "I'm really sorry about what happened to him." He knew those words were clumsy, that they didn't come close to respecting the man's legacy or soothing the pain in the child who'd been left behind. But when he glanced back up to look into Miles' face, he saw something soft and open there, and he decided that, maybe, clumsy could be okay sometimes.
"Thank you," Miles finally managed around the tightness constricting his throat.
They were quiet for a bit after that, neither one sure what to say. Phoenix just held on to Miles' hand a little tighter, and Miles squeezed right back.
"...this bag is huge," Phoenix finally put in, desperate to fill the gap between them with something lighter. "Is this, like, all the stuff you own?!"
Miles huffed something that might have been half a laugh. "Very nearly. The rest of it is supposed to be mailed to me once I'm settled in to my...new home." He spit out the words like they were poison on his tongue, and Phoenix almost flinched at the bitterness in it. "I don't want a new home, I want..."
He let his voice trail off. No use in throwing a tantrum. He could want whatever he pleased; it wasn't as though he could change reality.
A slow, heavy silence crawled by.
"I'm sorry, Phoenix," Miles sighed, at length. "It's not your problem."
Phoenix opened his mouth, then shut it again. For once in his life, he felt like he was at a loss for words.
"...I wish you didn't have to go," he finally whispered, and now he could feel his own eyes stinging, too.
"Yeah." Miles' voice came out rough and raw. "Me too."
Phoenix threw his arms around the other boy and tugged him into a tight hug. And Miles, though not normally one for such overt affection, melted into it willingly.
"I had to come find you," Phoenix murmured into Miles' hair. "I wasn't gonna let you leave without at least saying goodbye."
Miles didn't say anything. He couldn't. Not when it felt like his whole chest had just cracked in half.
"Oh, yeah!" Phoenix pulled away to scramble for his coat pocket. "I almost forgot." He dug around a few seconds before finally fishing out what he'd been looking for.
"Here. So you don't forget about me." He pressed a keychain into Miles' palm. Thought for a moment, then closed the other boy's fingers around it.
Miles' eyes lit up in recognition. "Signal Red," he breathed, bringing it to his face for a closer look. He finally chanced a smile then—shaky, a little watery, but genuine.
"Yeah," Phoenix smiled back. "I still have mine at home. I know it's kinda lame, but they remind me of us."
Miles shook his head. "It's not lame. It makes me think about us, too. You didn't have to bring me this, though, Phoenix. I don't need some...thing to remember you by. I could never forget about you."
Phoenix wasn't sure why those words made his heart stumble in his chest, why they seemed to unlock something inside him. But it felt...good. Definitely unfamiliar. But good. In spite of everything else, he couldn't resist the lopsided smile that broke out across his face.
"Are you gonna have a phone where you're moving?"
Miles shook his head. "No. von Karma said something about it being a distraction; says I'm too young."
"Jeez."
"He just wants to make sure I'm at my full potential," Miles said hollowly, like he was trying to convince himself, and if he said it enough times, it might be true.
Phoenix shrugged. "Whatever. We can figure out another way to keep in touch."
"We could write letters," Miles ventured shyly.
"Yeah! Yeah, that sounds cool!"
"I can send the first one. That way you'll know my new address." For the first time in their conversation, Miles gave him a smile that didn't look like he had to force it out. "If von Karma catches me, I can just tell him I'm practicing my penmanship!"
Phoenix had to smirk at that. "He sounds kind of strict."
"He's..." Miles chewed the inside of his cheek. "...mm, no. You're right. He's strict."
"Definitely not as cool as your dad." Phoenix knew he had to tread lightly, careful not to probe at this still-bleeding wound; but some desperate part of him wanted to honor the memory of Gregory Edgeworth, even if it was just in this small and simple way.
"Hm. No one is."
Phoenix broke out into a full-fledged grin. "Remember that time he let us make a huge mess in the kitchen just so we could have a trial about whose fault it was?"
The broad smile Miles gave him in return almost split his face, and Phoenix realized, in that moment, that he'd do anything to see it as often as he could.
"I sure do," Miles sniffed. "You were so bad at bluffing your way out of that one. I hope you don't make a habit of that!"
The giggles that followed made him feel the lightest he had felt in weeks. It didn't erase the ache in his chest—deep down, even despite their age, the boys had a feeling
nothing ever would—but he could feel it lessening. Not entirely, but just enough to make it manageable for a little while. He didn't know how to thank Phoenix enough for that.
"I love you, Phoenix," he sighed when their laughter died down, and hugged him even closer. "You're the best friend I've ever had."
"You're an even better friend, Miles. I love you too."
But, all too soon, it had to come to an end. The man and the little girl were here. He looked down his nose at Miles the way one might look at a stray dog begging for scraps.
"Come along, Miles. We'll be boarding soon." He shot Phoenix a withering look as they passed by.
Miles rose to his feet and grabbed his bag once more, but slowly, as if he was moving through a fog. He turned to Phoenix one last time. "I guess this is goodbye."
Phoenix felt his stomach twisting, but he gave Miles a tight nod.
"Hey," he called out as he watched them leave.
Miles said nothing, but looked at him over his shoulder.
"...we'll always be friends. Right?"
Miles smiled gently. His answer was barely audible over the din, but Phoenix heard him all the same.
"Forever."
With that, he disappeared into the crowd.
Outside, the sky had just started to blush at the edges, light creeping over the horizon slowly, apologizing for waking the world. Phoenix trudged back through the snow in silence, clutching his coat tight. He could still feel the shape of Miles’ hug like it had left a dent in his ribs.
In his pocket, the other half of the keychain set bumped against his fingers with each step.
He didn’t know when he’d hear from Miles next. But he believed him. They'd be friends forever.