Chapter Text
Prosecutor Edgeworth looks down at the request document with tired eyes. The defendant in tomorrow’s trial, Maya Fey, requests attorney Phoenix Wright to defend her.
Now that's a name he hasn't heard in a while. It's been fifteen years since he met one Phoenix Wright. Just about three years ago, his childhood friend sent a letter to his office. That day, the envelope was unique compared to the rest: standard save for the pattern of paper cranes decorating the back. The addresses were printed in helvetica, and along the seal was a black and white sticker of a firebird. He remembered how whimsical he thought it was.
The letter was only a page long and handwritten on standard printing paper. When he looked hard enough, he could make out the graphite underneath the ink. It came with a ticket from Ivy University.
‘Dear Miles Edgeworth,’ it read…
‘It's been a long time since I've heard from you, or about you. I'm surprised you're a prosecutor now, I thought you wanted to be a defense attorney! Either way, I hope you love your job, no matter what you ended up being. And I hope you're doing well in general.
Anyway, you must be busy, climbing up the ranks like you are. But hopefully you have a little bit of time by the end of May. Inside is a ticket to Ivy University's Commencement. If you're unable to come, don't worry about it. But I'd be happy to see you again!
See you someday,
Phoenix Wright
Edgeworth remembered driving to Los Tokyo’s Convention Center. He cleared his schedule for it. All he planned to do was watch his old friend walk across the stage. While waiting to give his ticket in the lobby, he heard someone call a familiar butchering of his name.
“Edgey?! Is that you?!” Oh, he's gotten lanky… and hairy. His attire looked way too kitschy for Edgeworth; a bright golden-rod orange suit with a black, wrinkled dress shirt. He didn't even bother tying the white neck tie.
“... Larry Butz.” He tried not to grimace or sneer at the man. He was met with a bright, stupid grin.
“Oh Em Gee??? You remember me!!” Larry tried to come in for a hug, but Edgeworth held him at arm's length. He used to sort of enjoy his company when he was young and dumb and nine years old. But most of that enjoyment was brought out by Phoenix. When it was just the two of them, he found his loud, energetic nature exhausting.
“Err… it's. Been a while, L-Larry,” 'Be polite, be courteous, don't make a scene. Not at a graduation ceremony of all events.' “I trust life has been kind to you? It doesn't seem like you've changed…” Edgeworth scanned over him again, “... in the slightest.”
Of course Larry wouldn't get the slight dig at him. He never did. “Yeah, man! Life's been real chill for me! I got a girlfriend the other day, started a new job— life is great!” His giant grin quickly shifted as tears started to form in his brown eyes. Edgeworth uncomfortably noticed how people were staring at them. No doubt, they wondered why the “Demon Prosecutor” was here in this convention center lobby. “And now? Could you believe it, Edgey?! Things are lookin’ up for our little Nicky! I can't believe he's graduating already !!”
Already… He didn't want to mention how he himself passed the bar at nineteen, and how his sister passed at thirteen. “Yes, it's quite the feat to graduate college at all.” Compared to the average, it was a little impressive that Phoenix would be graduating so early. If he remembered correctly, he turned twenty-one just last month.
“Hey, did he get you a ticket, or are you here for somebody else?? He said something about mailing it—”
Edgeworth lifted the ticket to Larry's face. “Yes, this is from him.”
“SICK, DUDE!!” Jesus Christ, he's loud. Now he's certain everyone is staring at them. “Dude, you gotta gimme your number! You, me, Nicky? We gotta keep in touch!”
“Uh,” He panicked. His eyes roamed the crowd in search of the nearest exit. Surely Wright wouldn't mind if he wasted the ticket. He said so in his letter. “I'm not sure…”
“Come onnnn, Edgey, man! Dontcha miss us??” In a sense, sure he sort of missed them. Sort of missed Larry's obnoxious behavior. It reminded him of a time when he had no responsibilities. Phoenix, on the other hand, he missed a lot. But he'd admit neither of these things to Larry. “Listen, I just wanna keep in touch with my old pals! I probably won't even text that much! You can ask Nick, I'm SUPER hard to get in contact with… anybody that isn't my girl, you know? So don't worry about me blowing up your phone, I just wanna be your friend again!”
All this said with that idiotic grin. It exhausted Edgeworth. At the same time, speaking to Larry made him nostalgic. So with a sigh, he exchanged numbers with his old friend. But only on the condition that he doesn't give the number to Wright. He… He wasn't ready to talk to him yet.
Yes, he was at his Commencement. But as he sat in the very back of the auditorium — alone and away from Larry and everyone else — he planned his exit route. He wouldn't stay long. He just wanted to watch him walk.
Edgeworth remembered seeing Wright near the end. The big screen displayed his name and honors in white against dark green:
Phoenix Ryūichi Wright
Summa Cum Laude
He could hear a few people scream his name in joy. Larry was the loudest of them all. At that moment, Edgeworth felt too far from the screen. It… was hard to recognize Phoenix. Maybe it was the fact that his spiky hair was pushed down by his cap. Or the camera was zoomed out to show the graduates’ full bodies. His face seemed… uncanny. Though he couldn't put his finger on why.
From Wright’s cap hung two tassels, one violet and the other white. On his shoulders hung a golden cord, and a royal purple cord. He shook the college president's hand and received his diploma covers.
There were a few students who were as decorated as him, graduating with two degrees. The valedictorian and salutatorian were even more decorated. Even so, the smile on Wright's face was the most brilliant accoutrement on stage.
Just as he planned, Edgeworth left right after everyone walked. He was a busy man after all. Having graduated in Germany, he wondered what those colors meant. But never looked it up.
Even when he was invited once again to Wright’s second Commencement a few months ago, he didn't look up the meanings. He didn't necessarily care, because there was a certain swell in his chest, seeing him in a dark green hood and stole. His cap was decorated with paper cranes on the top. The same cords and tassels hung from his regalia, too. And his honors were the same as last time.
It was so strange… he hadn't met Wright face-to-face for almost fifteen years. But for just a moment, with that shining smile on his face, it felt like Phoenix never left his side.
…
He should have checked those colors sooner, though. But what exactly would that do for him? There are plenty of jobs within the world of Law. But he never expected Wright would want to be a defense attorney.
The Phoenix Wright he knew in childhood — that Phoenix said he wanted to be an artist when he grew up. He wanted to make his stories come to life like they did on TV. The Phoenix he knew couldn’t defend himself to save his life, always getting in some sort of trouble with bullies who took advantage of his shyness. ‘Just like I did, we used to bond over that.’ So his Phoenix would never be a defense attorney of all people.
Or perhaps that was just how he was in childhood. The next day, as he set up his notes in the courtroom, he saw the greenhorn attorney who, just a month prior, managed to beat the so-called “rookie killer”. As he walked to his bench with an old-looking messenger bag, the two locked eyes. In that moment, it clicked in Edgeworth’s mind that the man he was about to face off against was unmistakably The Phoenix Wright. His Phoenix Wright. He knew by his absurd hair alone. The blue-clad rookie gazed at him with his head down, then turned his attention to unpacking his bag.
… While he appreciated that the man across the room was his old friend… Edgeworth judged him a smidge different-looking. He couldn’t tell what exactly it was across the bench. Wright’s reserved irises were shadowed due to the courtroom’s lighting. Perhaps he just misremembered. It had been fifteen years since he last saw him.
Oh, it didn’t matter. Five minutes until court was in session and the gallery talked amongst themselves. Wright is nothing but a rookie. His dark-eyed attention turned towards his notes, nervously skimming over all the documents in his hands. The strange girl was ushered in by the bailiff. His Honor sat at his bench. Maya Fey is guilty of murdering her own sister. That truth sealed the defense’s fate. He can end this trial today.